Awakening

[Alpian 687]

This story was written in a couple hours and was inspired by @Zorroblade's post how it all started for him. As a consequence, it has items that are not everyone's taste, especially in a sexual context. I believe I have kept within the bounds of the new forum rules, as personnally I'm not turned on by damage to third parties, either. I wasn't consciously aware when writing it, but my sudden tolerance for this beyond-naughty behavior may be related to my reading of @rann's well-written vandalism series starring Katie and Nina on vacation (warning: that one is hard vandalism, too much for me if I'm being honest).

The MILF was somewhat inspired by Ms. Paris Rose of TampaHousewives, even though I'm not aware of her having done anything similar.

Contains: female peeing, soft vandalism and damage to things of an implicitly consenting partner, hunting for animals (I had an issue with this last one, but it just belongs).

Obviously, this is 100% fictional, all characters are of legal age at the time of the events and any resemblance to anything is purely coincidental.

BTW: It was supposed to be a short story, and I ended up with almost 9k words. Seems I'm not really good at short when I'm horny...

 

Edited July 20, 2022 by Alpian
cite your sources ;-)

[Alpian 687]

Last year in high school. This is when it all started. I’d been playing with Xenia since middle school, we were just friends. And this was never to change. But something else changed: I met her mother.

“What the fuck?” is Your first thought?

Yes. For her sixteenth’s birthday, Xenia was having a sleep-in house-party. It was the first I ever attended, and the first time I went to the Minx’s house. The moment I saw her, I had a crush on her mom. Miss Minx was a blonde in her late thirties, toned body in good shape. I couldn’t take my eyes off her all night, as she served us snacks and drinks – even alcoholic ones that most of us were too young to be allowed elsewhere. She ruled the house in her tight flowery leggings (those were the days…) and a lycra tank top with no bra hiding the round forms of her smallish breasts.

 

 

Fast forward two years, and I was sitting next to Yvonne Minx in her car. I was calling her by her first name by now. My parents tended to be overly protective and insisted I stayed with someone after school when they were working the late shift. For a couple months, I had been a regular in their house, doing my homework with Xenia and fooling around. In retrospective, I’m pretty sure Yvonne had noticed my crush on her – but at the time I believed I had totally concealed it from her.

So today, she had picked us up, dropping Xenia off at her extra hockey practice for the upcoming regionals before stopping by the grocery store. We were done with the shopping for the week and I had been invited to the front seat to chat along.

Clad as always in tight spandex pants this time combined with a classy blouse, she sat in the driver’s seat. Waiting at the red light, I observed a cute possum sitting on the road opposite the crossing, cleaning itself.

“Hey, look the possum!” I called Yvonne’s attention. “Isn’t it cute?”

“Cute, huh?” she sniggered. “I hope it stays there…”

I didn’t quite get what she was aiming at until the lights turned green and she went in a beeline for the animal. It looked up with its big round eyes as we approached, got up and went towards the sidewalk. Silently, I prayed it would be quick enough to get out of our way, and my heart got light as I saw it had reached the other lane.

“And I’ll still get ya!” Yvonne triumphantly exclaimed, swerving the car.

A muffled thud as we passed indicated she had not failed her target.

I was dumbstruck. Nothing had prepared me for this. Had she just needlessly killed a living creature? A cute animal I had pointed out to her? Hadn’t she felt my affection for it?

She must have glanced at me, as suddenly she burst out laughing.

“Hey, take it easy, Zack.” she said in a soft voice. “They are pests.”

I became quiet and mulled over what I had just witnessed for the rest of the drive. Fortunately, it wasn’t long until we arrived. I unloaded the trunk, putting the bags in the shade of the house, whilst Yvonne opened the door. She then took the bags with the foodstuff and went inside. She behaved as if nothing had happened. For my part, I was deeply shaken by what had happened and preferred to be alone. I went to feed the rabbits as Xenia would normally have done. Sitting by the rabbits, I felt tears shooting in my eyes: How could someone have such cute pets and at the same time ruthlessly kill an equally cute possum?

Five minutes later, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I left the rabbits and went back on the drive. The bags with the non-perishable goods were still sitting there between car and house. I braced up, took the bags and entered the house. The door was still wide open, so I could pass without setting the bags down. I saw a light a bit further down the hall – Yvonne was already putting away the cosmetics and sanitary products, I thought. As I was carrying the cleansing articles, toilet paper and so on, I continued straight towards the light shining from the open bathroom door.

It was only when I was about to turn the corner that I heard that telltale hissing sound of a woman powerfully releasing her bladder’s contents into the porcelain bowl of a toilet. Thunderstruck, I stopped in my track.

My heart pounding, I listened to the sound. It dawned on me that the lady that had starred in so many of my wet dreams was just around the corner, her most intimate region devoid of any clothing. The source of that hissing sound appeared before my inner eye, and as I continued listening something in my pants started to swell. But I didn’t dare to do that last step, to turn around the corner and face HER.

“Sweetie, would you mind getting me a roll of that toilet paper, please?”

Her call brought me back to reality. I almost let the bags fall to the ground as I blushed, feeling humiliated at the idea of having been overheard. Did she suspect I had been spying on her? Without thinking, I took the packet of toilet paper and almost ran into the bathroom. It was only three steps, and I was standing in front of her. Almost too quick to stop in time, I failed to stumble right onto her lap. Eagerly unwrapping the roll, the ripping plastic film drowned out the sound of piss hitting the toilet right in front of me. I peeked, trying to get a glance at her pubic hair as she sat on the throne, spandex pants and string panties at her knees, body slightly bent forward. All I could see was her belly forming a small triangle of skin where her thighs met. A bit disappointed, I handed her the roll of toilet paper.

“Is it that bad?” she half-empathetically, half-mockingly enquired. She must have seen my red eyes, traces of tears still glistening on my cheeks. “You should get over it – it’s over. Just focus on the present!”

On the present! That was it. I was standing in front of her using the toilet. What did she think I should be focusing on?

A part of me exactly knew what to concentrate on – and the tent pole in my pants rose to new heights. I sheepishly smiled at her.

“Much better, right?” she smirked at me as she tore off a couple sheets of tissue and crumpled them in her hand.

Expectantly, I stared at her crotch, right on the spot where her naked thighs met the fabric of her blouse.

As she leant back to reach behind her to wipe, her blouse rose higher and revealed some skin of her lower body. It didn’t take long and she had cleaned herself, dropping the dirty tissue into the yellow puddle of pee.

Only now it dawned me that she wouldn’t spread her legs to reach between them. I had always imagined women wiping from the front – I didn’t know then that girls were supposed to wipe from front to back.

Stepping back a little, I gave her room to get up. Try as I might, I couldn’t see a bit of her pubic hair as she got up, bent forward and quickly pulled up her panties and pants. Just the plain white skin of her lower abdomen.

I helped her put away the stuff, we prepared dinner together and ate. She would then take me home and pick up her daughter at the way back.

 

 

The beginning weekend was hell. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. How she had trusted me to be with her in the most intimate moment of using the toilet. How she had not been grossed out by my presence. Sometimes I saw the yellow puddle in the white porcelain, a crumpled paper iceberg slowly dissolving in the liquid, framed by two long legs in red leggings forming a triangle crowned by two shapely buttocks as she had turned round to flush the toilet. Had she been bending forward more than necessary? Had she consciously presented her bum to me? Did she know I had a crush on her? Had she seen my boner?

Trust me, I spent most of those two days masturbating in my room. I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I couldn’t get the hissing sound out of my mind. The fragrance of her diluted pee filling the room around us. But tantalizingly, every time I approached orgasm, pictures of an opossum imploringly staring at me flickered through my phantasy, followed by a hollow thud sounding through my head. And I had to start again, concentrating on my friend’s mom and her shapely body, her hot leggings, how she had brazenly pissed leaving the bathroom door open, knowing full well that I was there, just her and I…

 

 

A week later, again Friday. Again hockey practice. Again her and I, alone in the car. As we were standing at the same traffic light, I looked at her. She looked at the light, didn’t seem to notice me. I let my eyes wander. I saw her nipples through her t-shirt, stiffly standing in the chill of the air-conditioning. The rounding of her breast was visible in the wide and deep v-neck décolleté. The force of her hard nipples lifted the fabric slightly, revealing just a hint of the forms of her tits in the dimmed light shining through the thin white fabric. I glanced down. Her shirt ended just below her belly-button. Her high-rise pink leggings covered any skin below, forming a smooth triangle where the gusset was just visible between her slightly spread legs. Could I see a hint of cameltoe, a sort of slid through the middle? Was it the seam in the fabric pushing into her private parts? Was her slit pronounced enough to be distinguishable through her pubic hair?

 “Do you remember?” she asked.

I looked up, saw that she was looking at me and blushed. She must have noticed where I had stared.

The car started to move, and automatically I looked forward. I winced. It was here that she had nonchalantly overrun the innocent animal. It took a while until I looked back at her. Just in time to see her withdraw her hand from her crotch. Did she have to adjust her pants? It looked uncomfortable how they were wedged into her nether parts. Her nipples were still hard in the chill air.

We spent a couple hours together, but I didn’t get another chance to see her pee. She didn’t even go to the toilet tonight – so I couldn’t even listen from the living room if I would hear her hiss as I had done the previous nights when Xenia was with us.

We had repotted some plants and eaten an early dinner. Time came to leave for home. It was still early, but my parents were away all night and didn’t want me to sleep over at Xenia’s house. They probably imagined all kinds of things…

Yvonne drove me home – she would be taking Xenia to the cinema after her training as it was still early.

“Thank you for helping me with the plants.” Yvonne said as we were close to my house. “I couldn’t have moved the big one all alone.”

“You have great plants, it must have been quite an effort to get them to this size.”

“Is that a true compliment?” she asked, astutely grinning at me. “I didn’t think boys your age understand much about gardening?”

“I’ve got some plants on my own.” I mentioned.

“Really? Who would have thought…” she was surprised, I could hear it in her voice.

Again looking at her, I saw her nipples were still stiffly pressing against the fabric of her shirt. And she hadn’t even put the air-conditioning, I wondered. The car was fairly warm in the evening sun, and I could see some moisture in her pink leggings. She must have sweat a little.

I was still musing about my observation when we had arrived.

“Want to see my plants?” I asked out of a whim. “You didn’t seem to believe me.”

Almost like awakening from a dream, she stirred and looked up at me.

“Yes, sure, why not?” she replied as if she had taken a sudden decision.

We walked into the house and I showed her the plants in my room. Nothing special, just standard potted plants on the window sill. I could see she was somewhat disappointed.

“So that’s your collection…” she looked at me accusingly. As if it hadn’t been worth leaving the car for this.

“Wanna see something?” I asked, desperate to regain her interest. I had saved the best for last.

She nodded, and I led her into a hallway with a mezzanine, where the windows were almost two stories high. It wasn’t an impressive plant for the space, but it was my pride.

“I’ve grown this from a pit during a school project in middle school.” I proudly announced. “All the other kids have lost theirs; as far as I know, mine is the only to survive.”

“Wow, nice one!” Yvonne lauded. “And a nice potty, too.”

She was pointing at the container. I had chosen a nice pot, maybe a little too big. The stem was in the middle, maybe two or three centimeters, one inch in diameter. The first branches were some sixty centimeters, or two feet, above the soil and formed a round canopy that had been quite an effort to build over the years.

Yvonne walked once around the tree, avidly observing it with her eyes. The pot was about a foot high, about as wide and had a large rounded upper rim about one inch wide.

“The soil is pretty dry?” she asked me.

“Yeah, I usually water it twice a week, Wednesday and on the weekend.”

She looked at the leaves, the twigs, everything. I was really proud. She looked at me and saw my emotion.

“You’re really fond of it, huh?”

I nodded.

“You should be – good work!”

I blushed.

I saw her blush, too. Suddenly she burst out:

“Do you mind? I got to pee!”

Her glance in the direction of the pot clearly indicated her intention, yet I simply couldn’t believe it. No one would just pee in a plant, especially as perfectly fine toilets were just a few steps away and we had the house to ourselves. Then I realized what it would mean if she really ignored the toilets to go here in front of me. I blushed even more and felt my pants get tight.

She didn’t wait for an explicit answer. Already she was yanking down her pants and black thong. I could see a glistening trace on the black fabric, somewhat white around the edges. Then I stared at her. Too late: she had already bent over and squat over the pot. Once again I had missed the chance at looking at her vulva! Instead, I got to see down her décolleté, seeing her firm breasts naked for the first time. She had round breasts about the size of half a grapefruit, but lower. These were topped by areola that formed a sort of round pyramid on top of which sat a pencil-eraser nipple. Wonderful to behold!

She sat with her haunches on the pot, her lower back against the stem of my tree. She was bent far forward, not only to clear the branches, but also to move her vulva over the rim of the pot.

And then I heard it. At first, there was only a faint hiss. Then the sound of her golden jet hitting the pot and the soil was heard until she had shifted a bit, moving her ass higher and increasing the angle of her pelvis to point her vulva further back.

Giving up my vantage point staring down her décolleté (it was now covered by her hair falling over her shoulders and her face being lower as she watched herself pee), I stepped to the side and was greeted by a side-view of the graceful lines of her haunches gracefully curving to merge into her back, a strong stream of yellow pee gushing from somewhere hidden and impacting forcefully the soil, creating a foaming puddle as the liquid spread around before being absorbed by the thirsty earth.

I couldn’t see her pussy, but I saw her stream. It was as if I was almost there. Her gushing jet of warm urine was magically pointing to the origin of all life. To the aim of all my desires.

The situation was highly arousing to me. I didn’t worry in the least about any consequences, I just wanted to watch and I felt honored to be allowed this intimate moment with the lady of my dreams.

“Not thinking about the possum anymore, are we?” she brutally interrupted my moment of bliss.

Miss Minx was winking her eyes at me, a half-smile on her face. Her look had something deeply erotic, also very defiant. Provocatively, she smiled and asked:

“Would you mind handing me the tissue?”

She pointed to the low buffet taking up the length of one wall where a white square was visible.

Walking over, I noticed it wasn’t a tissue but a silk doily my mom used to protect the high-gloss wood from being scratched by the knick-knack she usually placed there. I hesitated, glancing back at Yvonne. From here, I got an even better view, and I realized she was aware of it when I saw her wicked grin. Her stream had become a trickle that fell almost straight from between her cheeks to the drenched dirt. I could follow the crack between her buttocks to lead me to the source that was anointing my tree. It was then that I realized she looked like I had remembered girls from childhood – her slit was just continuing until it disappeared in the shadow between her thighs. A few last drops fell into the plant pot and she started to wiggle.

I forced myself to look at her face. She gave me an encouraging nod indicating that indeed she had meant the white spot on the buffet. Mechanically, I picked up the silk doily and walked the few steps back to her.

“Thank you!” she said, taking it from my hand before I had a chance to say something.

She was already holding it to her nether parts when I finally got my voice back:

“Bu.. but, but” I stuttered, “that’s no tissue, it’s …”

“Too late!” she cut me off, matter-of-factly.

I saw she was still holding it to her pussy, slowly moving her hand.

Befuddled, I thought by myself ‘Probably the silk doesn’t soak in her pee as easily as a tissue would have – and the backsplash from the pot might have gotten piss all over her thighs.’

I was ashamed at my thoughts, but what happened before my eyes clearly indicated I hadn’t been totally wrong. Miss Minx was dabbing her skin with the thin square foot of finest silk anywhere she felt droplets of urine clinging to it. Finally, she slowly pulled it along the length of her slit, taking her time.

As she had finished cleaning herself, she held it out for me to take:

“You wouldn’t want me to drop it into the dirt, would you?”

I took the soiled article from her hand and looked at her, trying to read her. She didn’t utter a word, mischievously smiling at me.

Had she done it on purpose? Did she know it wasn’t a tissue? She had been closer to the buffet than I when she had walked around the tree. Had she noticed it then? But she had been so focused on the tree…

It was only when she pulled up her panties that I noticed she was totally shaven. Her pussy was devoid of any trace of hair. Again, my penis twitched in my pants. That meant that my eyes had gotten to see closer to her intimate region than I had expected at our first encounter in the bathroom. It meant that the slit that I had meant to see during our drive really had been the slit of her vulva, the entrance to the secrets of her body that I so longed to discover.

“You like’t?” she asked, looking at me, amused.

I nodded. I wasn’t able to speak.

“I thought as much.” she laughed and pulled up her leggings.

I conducted her back to the door, where she gently hugged me, planting a kiss on my cheek.

“You’re such a cute boy, thank you!” and she stepped away.

Two steps away, she turned around once more:

“I was really desperate, I don’t know what I would have done without you. Thanks again!”

Blowing me a last kiss, she was gone.

 

 

It was only upon returning into the house that I realized I was still holding her used tissue in my hands. My first reflex was to throw it away immediately, betraying my prudish upbringing. Then I realized what a treasure I held in my hands: This thin, fragile piece of precious fabric was drenched in her juices. The very liquids that had touched her pussy. That had emanated from her body. Bringing it to my face to inhale her flavor, I realized it was full of gooey slime. Holding it a bit further away, I had a closer look: yes, the fabric was drenched in yellow water, but there was also a dollop of clear slime on it. It took me a while to realize this was her lubrication. It hit me like lightning: She had been aroused by her action. She had enjoyed what she had done, enjoyed in a sexual way. It had turned her on. She was turned on by me!

 

 

There wasn’t a minute in the days that followed when I was alone without me laying hand on my dick and indulging in sweet memories. There were only some moments, when pictures of a possum looking at me, accusingly, interfered with my pleasure.

 

 

Two weeks went by. It was the day of the finals in the regional hockey competition. Of course I had went with the Minxes to watch the game and cheer for Xenia’s team. After a long day, we still had three hours in the car to endure.

“We’ll drop you of and then head home, if you don’t mind?” Yvonne asked me.

“Yeah, fine with me.”

“Mom, no, please! I’m desperate – can you drop me off at home first? Please, mom!” Xenia intervened.

“What do you think?” Yvonne turned back to me. I was sitting in the backseat, as obviously Xenia was there and I was being a gentleman.

Was there a hidden fire shining in her eyes? It was subtle enough that I couldn’t be sure. But as I had peed on the park deck, I didn’t feel any need and was happy to be a gentleman again.

“No problem, Yvonne, I’m in no hurry.”

“Thank you, Zach!” Xenia beamed at me.

Why was she so desperate, I wondered? Didn’t they have restrooms in the locker rooms?

So it came that once again, I was sitting in the front seat after having unloaded Xenia’s stuff (she had darted straight to the toilet, not caring for anything that happened behind her), and we were on our way to my house. My parents were once again working late shift – as medical staff you don’t get to choose.

“Watch out, a possum!” Yvonne called my attention. Indeed, somewhat in the distance there was a smallish animal crossing the street.

“I wish it would walk as quickly!” Yvonne commented.

I cringed and my heart skipped a beat. Was she going to kill another one? She knew it hurt me – she wouldn’t do it. Or would she?

I realized she had floored the accelerator and we were speeding towards the defenseless animal trying to cross the street alive. I looked at her, pleadingly. She very briefly shot a glance at me, turned back and focused on the road ahead. A baleful smile appeared on her face as we quickly approached her game. Something in my peripheral vision caught my attention. It took a while before I realized her nipples had hardened. I was sure they hadn’t been hard before. Yes, I had sat in the backseat during most of the drive and her tight sports top was not as revealing as the t-shirt last time, but I was sure there was a change: I had eyed her more than was decent during the last quarter of an hour, I realized.

Staring at her nipples, I was oblivious to the rest of the world. My thoughts were caught in a riddle: Did it mean she was aroused? Was it because she was taking me home? Or was it because of the hunt she was undertaking? Did she really enjoy hurting the poor animal? Yes, they were pests and hunted as such – but did she need to partake in the hunt? Did she need to get aroused by it? Or was it because she knew it would upset me? Was she trying to teach me some kind of toughness? Wouldn’t she have chased down the possum if I weren’t in the car?

I was feeling guilty as I felt her arousal was turning me on and I began to suspect her arousal being caused by the hunt. I felt I was the reason she had started the hunt, she was turned on, so I felt guilty for the soon to be dead of the innocent animal.

“Sshht!” she cursed, swerving the car back in line.

I looked up, looked back. The animal had been quicker than us. It had reached the other lane and Ms. Minx had not been able to hunt it down due to oncoming traffic.

“What?” she barked at me as I gave a jerk.

But then she saw it herself in the wing mirror: The oncoming truck had flattened the poor beast that had so narrowly escaped her attack. A bright grin crossed her face.

“You didn’t like that, did you?” she commented, “Must have been quite the shock.”

Looking at her in disbelief, I saw her blush. Was she ashamed of herself?

A movement of her legs pulled my glance down. Cruising at a more leisurely speed now, she had relaxed and set the left leg a little up, foot close to the seat, and let her knee hang to the left. This movement had created a little space between her thighs. Her hand was between her legs now, pushing against her gusset. She kept her hand there for about a minute, moving her haunches ever so slightly. When she removed her hand, I got a nice view of her crotch. There was a defined cameltoe, the fabric of her light gray pants closely hugging her anatomy. The knowledge of there being just two layers of fabric and then her naked skin proved an incredible turn-on for me.

“Forgetting about your poor furry friend?” she mocked as she realized her stratagem had worked. “You can’t believe how hot I am!”

Was she speaking about the temperature in the car? About the excitement of the hunt having increased her temperature? Or was there a more sensual meaning to her statement? I shuddered at the thought of her being aroused. This was so wrong! And she was playing with it as if it were nothing. Just like that, killing animals for fun and pleasure and then trying to turn me on to quench my qualms? Yet I couldn’t help but falling for her game and feeling aroused, too. It certainly helped that I had been observing her stiff nipples for a couple minutes now and that she had consciously opened up for me to distinguish her vulva under her revealing clothing.

“Me too.” I muttered.

I only became aware of what I had said when I saw her incredulous but approving look at me.

“That’s how I like my big boy!” she lauded.

Moments later, we arrived at my house.

Desperately, I was looking for an excuse to invite her to the house. I was afraid of seeing her waving me goodbye and driving away. I hesitated, I didn’t want to get out of the car.

“Can’t think of an excuse?” she had seen through me.

I blushed, but I didn’t move, didn’t even acknowledge I had heard her.

“I believe, I have overestimated my bladder.” Yvonne suddenly stated.

I looked at her, not quite understanding what she wanted to get at.

“You see, I thought by not drinking during the game I would last until at home.”

I nodded empathically.

“I just might have – but the detour of taking Xenia home was that quarter of an hour too much.”

My look must have expressed understanding, as she continued without waiting for a comment.

“The restrooms at sports venues are disgusting.”

I confirmed, nodding strongly. She was absolutely right.

“And ladies can’t just piss on the parking lot like certain blokes do.” She smirked at me.

I had to smile at this insinuation at my behavior earlier in the day.

“So, what should you say to me now?”

It took a moment or two, but finally, I got her teasing: she had handed me the perfect excuse on the silver platter and now wanted me to be gentlemanly.

“May I invite you to come into the house with me to find relieve?”

The moment I said it, I felt the phrase was awkward. But the essential was said, right?

“Oh, that’s kind of you – yes, please!”

Whew, she didn’t make me say it again! I got up, and was about to walk around the car to help her out as she was already standing next to me.

“Don’t you get scared sometimes, all alone in this big house?”

“Oh no, and most of the time it’s just a couple hours until my parents are back. I don’t get to be alone all that often…”

“But you don’t have siblings, so that’s already that.”

“I have a sister, but she’s on an internship in the city for three months. Doesn’t make much of a difference, anyways – I think I haven’t seen much of her for the last four or five years.”

“Her brother been spying on her?” Yvonne asked with a sudden interest. She seemed to like the idea of brothers spying on sisters. Or maybe she liked the idea of being spied on? After all, she had given me a number of opportunities…

But then I realized I hadn’t really seen that much of her yet. And I remembered when I had tried spying in early puberty. Not a nice memory!

“I tried once to spy on Urina, our nanny. My father caught me, and I got the beating of my life. He made me understand that under no circumstances I was ever again to spy on a girl or a woman, and certainly not under his roof.”

She nodded absentmindedly. She seemed to be mulling something over in her head.

“Now I understand…” she said, pausing. “… That’s why it is such a pleasure to have you around – you don’t impose yourself, you wait to be invited. I appreciate that.”

Was there a hint of an invitation in her last sentence?

“Show me your sister’s room!” she ordered after a lengthy silence.

I led the way and she followed me. Past my room, down the hall and into the door opposite of my tree. Wendy’s room was tidy as always, with very few things lying around.

“She doesn’t have plants.” Yvonne noticed.

“She doesn’t like them. She wants everything proper and orderly – plants are too much hassle for her.”

“What is this?” Yvonne was holding a baby toy, a smallish stuffed dolphin, in her hand.

“Oh, that’s Wendy’s beloved Dodo, she’s had it since she was a toddler and she’s kept it all this time. She’d always sleep with it when at home, but she never takes it outside since she once lost it when she was five years old and only got it back by chance.”

“Wow, amazing how people can get attached to things. I believe we have no trace of Xenia’s kids’ stuff left in the house.”

I was a little shocked at this – I liked to keep some souvenirs of the past. Not masses, most things had been sold off. But I had kept two or three items from every major period in my life, and so had my sister.

“Sorry, I really have to go now!” Yvonne pressed her hand against her crotch. She was still holding the baby dolphin – Dodo – in her hand.

I was shocked to see her press my sister’s cherished stuffed toy right at her crotch. I had always learned that genitals were dirty, and it shocked me to see this. Even if I was aware that it was no different to holding it anywhere else on your clothes. Watching her closer, I noticed that she observed me closely. I saw a wave of pleasure rolling through her body as she saw my brief moment of disgust, quickly replaced by a dirty pleasure to indulge her behavior.

“Feels good!”

It was a statement. Like that. It wasn’t clear what exactly she meant. But it was clear she wanted it to be ambiguous. Was it the simple fact of exerting a pressure on her private parts, stimulating her clitoris? Or did it feel good to press someone’s belongings to her pussy, knowing that that person would not appreciate it? Did it feel good to be with me and see my rising arousal, the overcoming of my education? Or was it not at all related to what she felt, but rather a comment on the change in my expression and how it indicated that I felt better?

Whilst these musings went through my mind, she had left the room and was looking left and right in a searching gesture. Was she looking for the toilets?

Before I had opened my mouth, she had composed herself and stepped straight forward. This was the spot of our last encounter in this house. Here she had released a torrent of urine into the pot of my tree. Here she had wiped her pussy with mom’s silk doily.

Looking around, Yvonne drew in the place as if to remember every detail. She turned round to watch me. I had followed her closely, not wanting to miss anything. We were almost touching each other.

“You feel it too.” she mumbled.

I nodded. Yes, I too, felt the heat, the electricity, the arousal of the situation, the might of memory. This common understanding emboldened me.

“Remember?” I pointed to the silk doily.

It was back at its usual spot, a vase standing on it. It had been washed. I had washed it. By hand. After having licked her secretion from it and after having sucked at it to taste the flavor of her pee whilst I was having the best orgasm of my life. Now it was back at its place, only the slightest traces would hint to the initiated what it had been used for.

“What did you do to it when I was gone?”

The look in her eyes was too much – I fully opened up and told her how I had been aroused by discovering how wet she had been and what I did then.

“Would you think that I’m wet again?”

I nodded.

“Wanna feel?”

I nodded again.

She turned round, backing into me, grinding her butt against my groin. Then she took my hand and slid it into the hem of her leggings. Guiding it further, she let me into her skimpy string panties. I felt the softness of her mons pubis for the first time. It was the first time I felt any pubic mount. Progressing very slowly, I was allowed to discover the top of her slit. My middle finger following the crevice of her slit, my hand glided along the curvature of her anatomy as I was led between her legs. Her vulva was hot and moist. When I felt my arm wasn’t long enough to go any further, I felt slick wetness. I was right above (or below) the opening of her vagina. My penis was throbbing hard against her bum.

She let me hold my hand a couple seconds, even allowing me to wiggle about a bit.

“Is it wet enough?”

I was at a loss of words. I was in heaven. I couldn’t speak now. It was my first time!

She withdrew my hand slowly from between her legs, wet fingers sliding all the way to the top of her slit, making her shudder as they were passing by a little knob obstructing the sleek slope. I had touched her clit. I almost came in my pants.

I didn’t realize she had pulled the hem of her pants and panties all the way to the level of her crotch. Suddenly, as my finger left her slit, my hand was free.

“Here, hold that for me, will ya?”

With that, I felt her pushing something in my hand, the hand that had just left her pussy. The hand I wanted urgently in my face, to sniff and lick at her juices.

Her attention had been attracted by something else, and she had quickly stepped forward. Little did I suspect she had seen it long before – she acted very convincing.

Closely observing my tree – much closer than I usually did, I admit I didn’t look at it very often at all – she motioned me again to come closer. Not believing my luck, I snug up to her from behind. Her buttocks were half uncovered, as she had not pulled up the hem in front, and her steps had pulled the back down to almost the same level. I had hoped to be pressing my boner to her naked butt, but I realized it was at the most wrong level possible, and pointlessly pushing against the bunched up fabric.

She turned her head and smiled at me – the way a teacher smiles at a brilliant but silly idea of a pupil – at my attempt to take advantage of her semi-nakedness. Then she drew my attention to the crown of my tree.

“Look here, some leaves turned yellow. Summer break hasn’t even started yet. Is that always like this?” she wanted to know.

I was disappointed. Was discussion gardening expertise more important than our arousal now? And then I looked again. Something was different about the tree.

“I didn’t notice this last time?” Yvonne said more to herself.

“Neither did I.” I admitted. “Normally, the leaves are dark green at this time of the year.”

“Let’s not worry too much, ok?”

I nodded. But I wasn’t fully present anymore. My mind had started worrying about my tree and was mulling dozens of different potential causes. I was distracted.

“Ohh myy – that was close.” she suddenly exclaimed, bending forward. “I almost spurted in my pants.”

I looked at her, worried. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how.

“Fortunately, we’re right in front of a perfect potty.” she beamed, pulling her pants all the way to her ankles.

Her naked butt was now firmly pressing against my pants. I held firm, not retreating against her pressure. I felt a strong urge to just pull down my pants and go skin against skin. But the pants were too tight, I had tied the cordon inside to make sure they didn’t slip during the trip.

And the moment of bliss had passed as Ms. Minx straightened up and turned to face me. Her hands held my arms, and as she lowered herself back against my tree, bending forward, she pulled me down with her so I came to kneel in front of her.

Grateful that she had pulled her pants all the way to her ankles, I watched her spread her knees and thus opening up a view for me.

“You’re ok with that, right?” she wanted to know.

“Of course, it’s the least I could do!” I confirmed.

I hadn’t finished my sentence when a blast of hot urine shot out of her bladder and against the rim of the pot. Yellow pee splashed everywhere, I even felt a few splashes on my face. Immediately, a strong fragrance filled the surroundings as the finely dispersed urine released its aroma.

Mastering her gushing stream, continuing to pee with less pressure and controlling her direction with one hand right at her vulva, Yvonne managed to direct her golden nectar directly into the soil. She didn’t pee against the stem like last time, but dangerously close to the rim of the pot. Back in the day, I didn’t realize it was to offer a more compelling view to me.

Yes, she had been playing with me. Her desire to pee was genuine, and she had really planned to pee at home. But as soon as her daughter had asked to be taken home first, she had known she wanted to repeat the experience. The kick with the possum she had helped to kill on the way, teasing and tormenting her young, inexperienced and impressible companion, had only added to her arousal and set her juices flowing. She had been desperate when they arrived, but not enough so that she couldn’t play some teasing. She wanted to get up to temperature, take her time, up the game little by little. It had turned her on to be shown around Wendy’s room, it had aroused her to see the little silk doily back in use yet showing a hint of a yellowish tint that hadn’t been there before. When she discovered the discoloration in the leaves of the tree, she had immediately linked it to her last pee into the pot and the potential damage to the roots it could have done. She had enjoyed Zach standing behind her, pressing his boner against her butt and feeling her pussy whilst she was looking at the yellow leaves and wondering if any real damage had been done. Would he be aware of the probable origin of the change? Would he be ok with her peeing once again into the pot, potentially adding to the damage? Her pee would be really concentrated today – it made her extra hot to consider this circumstance. It had not been planned, but it made damage more likely and the likelihood of her pee causing destruction turned her on, she couldn’t help it.

Last week, it was just the naughty act that had turned her on. And the teasing that she did for Zach who was so easy to impress she didn’t even have to show him anything for real – just hints got him going. All the fantasy that unfolded as she contemplated the yellowish leaves, slowly turning from dark green to the color of her golden nectar. This was so hot, she had to try hard not to come as he withdrew his hand. As he touched her clit she couldn’t help it – a mini orgasm had shaken her body.

Now she was crouching in front of Zach, her ass once again against the stem of his valued and cherished tree, her urethra once again releasing a torrent of pent up urine to water the thirsty soil and cover its roots. She knew her pee would not filter through all of the earth, the pot was too big. And that was good. She didn’t intend to simply kill the tree. She just enjoyed the thought of maybe – a very probable maybe, granted – of maybe doing some damage to the roots, to the tree. She wanted to see his face when he discovered the cause and effect relationship. She wanted to tease him about it, she would return and remind him that it had happened for his sole pleasure. That she had done it only to give him an opportunity to watch her pee, to get a glance at her pussy because she knew he had enjoyed it the first time he’d run into her in her bathroom. She was going to point out to him that it would have been impossible for her to stage such a situation had she decided to use the bathroom, and that he wouldn’t have been able to be as close had she decided to go somewhere outside on the way home.

She observed her geyser of piss foaming and bubbling in a puddle where the hard jet had spilled away the dirt and left a small hole. Slowly, her bladder was emptying. She directed her stream a little further backwards without shifting her hips too much – she wanted him to see, but she didn’t want to spill any. She felt her stream dwindle to a trickle, some pee was running along her thighs. She pushed once more and with a short dribble, her bladder was empty. During these last efforts, she had been looking at me.

 

 

I had watched with vivid fascination as the scene unfolded in front of me. I was constantly on the verge of coming, only the uncomfortable kneeling-crouching position on the hard stone floor kept me from shooting my load. I still couldn’t truly see her insides, her vulvar vestibule, her urethra and her vagina were still hidden from sight. But I saw the origin of her slit on her cleanly shaven mons pubis and I could see how her inner labia emerged inside her slit, forming the clitoral hood before curving out of sight.

“Give me that!”

There wasn’t even a please. Just an order. But I didn’t mind. I was like in trance. I handed her what she wanted and continued staring at her vulva. It was worth it, as she changed her stance now and by lifting up her upper body brought her pelvis in a more upright position, pivoting her vulva in my direction. I could see pee glistening all over her labia, little rivulets had left a trace on her haunches and stray splashes sat like little yellow dots all over her exposed skin. A strong musk filled the atmosphere in addition to the strong smell – call it stench – of her concentrated urine.

It was only when she blocked her pussy from my sight that I noticed what she had asked of me: She was holding Wendy’s Dodo to her naked leg, slowly dabbing her pee away. She was doing it very conscientiously, one spot at a time, making sure the fluffy terrycloth type fabric of the toy got a chance to soak in every last bit of her urine. As she was progressing, I could see a clear viscous liquid forming a drop and then slowly falling into the flower pot. It pulled a string, remaining attached to her pussy almost all the way down. The next drop was hanging in the air for a long time, dangling on its string of cum as she dabbed her thighs.

“Why don’t you help me – you can see far better where I’m still soiled.” Yvonne addressed me after a while.

I reached forward and mechanically took Dodo from her. The cuddly toy was still fairly dry, it had only absorbed minimal quantities of pee that had gone astray. Eager to get closer to Yvonne, I turned Dodo such that its dry side was pointing away from my hand and I carefully approached the pussy that had provided me with such a pleasure and excitement tonight.

At first, I was carefully dabbing away piss on the parts of her thighs and buttocks that were closest to her vulva, before I continued to really set my sight on her labia. Gently stroking Dodo along her outer labia, I made sure there was no trace of moisture left on them. Looking at the stuffy, I noticed its “skin” was fairly soaked now, and the light grey had turned a sort of greyish-brown due to the concentrated dark yellow urine it had soaked in. All of a sudden, I vividly imagined my sister returning from her internship and finding Dodo in this state. Her shock, her despair, but also her anger played before my mind. I hesitated. I shouldn’t continue like this. After all, the job was basically done, only the slit and the inner labia remained, and they were still oozing cum. It would be impossible to truly dry them off.

“Please, continue, this is so hot – I’m wanting to cum.” Yvonne begged.

All my worries left me immediately as I heard her plea. Turning Dodo to put a cleaner part of its body to Yvonne’s skin, I pressed the cuddly toy to the top of her slit, gently moving my hand in circles to transmit a stimulating motion through the fabric without really rubbing it against her skin.

“Yes, this feels good. Yes, more please!” she moaned.

I flattened the plush animal against her vulva, using its full length now to cover the entirety of her slit. I didn’t care anymore if it got soaked or not – I just wanted to satisfy, gratify the woman who had done so much for me, assuage the desire that was burning in her and that I felt burning inside myself as well.

Cuming, Yvonne took the toy from me and forcefully pushed it against herself, riding it to an intense orgasm.

A minute or so later, she still held it against her vulva. I had watched her orgasm with highest bliss and I was somewhat disenchanted when it finally ceased. I had somehow wished this would never end!

“Look at this!” Ms. Minx seemed surprised about herself. “Absolutely soaked. I’ve never been this wet before.”

She was holding Dodo between us, and indeed the plushy had become rather soggy where her vaginal secretion had had time to infiltrate. Only its head was still relatively dry, its beak having served to stimulate her clitoris.

“Suck!” she asked me, rubbing the spine of the stuffed animal along my mouth.

Obediently, I opened my mouth and sucked her juices from the fluffy fabric. I had wanted to do this all along.

“Do you think your sister has used it in a similar way?” Yvonne asked. “You know, girls sometimes masturbate with their stuffed animals.”

I was shocked. I’d never thought this was possible – but I had the perfect proof in front of me. But my sister? I didn’t think so.

“Imagine your sister being back, rubbing my juices into her pussy.” Yvonne continued. “Wow, such a hot idea.”

And she started flipping her clit with her fingers, twirling around her nub with incredible speed.

“Hold it to my pussy. Please!”

I pulled it out of my mouth and pushed the beak into her slit. She was again so well lubricated, and the plush so drenched in her juices, that the toy quickly slid along her vulvar vestibule and its beak entered her vagina.

Bucking back and forth, still playing her clit, I had trouble keeping the toy in place.

“I’m coming again, wow, this is good, oh, thank you, yes!”

She very slowly let her hand sink away and I withdrew Dodo slowly from her most intimate zone.

“Wait – I have to pee. I always have to pee after sex.” Yvonne said matter-of-factly.

I didn’t understand the context, but I stopped moving.

“Yes, hold it like this.” she confirmed.

And then I saw it: a slow trickle of pee ran out of her urethra. It was the first time I saw this. It was amazing to watch. Her yellow pee felt warm on my hand as it soaked into the stuffing of the dolphin. Had her vaginal juices only soaked the fluffy fabric of the toy’s skin, her liquid piss easily soaked through this layer and filled the stuffing like a sponge. I could feel how the dolphin got heavier and started to loose form before dripping its contents onto the ground.

“Don’t spill it!” Yvonne admonished me. “Wring it into the plant pot.”

Entranced, I did as I was told and pressed as much liquid out of the poor animal as I could.

Taking it, wiping her pussy one last time with the toy, Yvonne returned it to me with a special request:

“Take it to your room and let it dry as is. Don’t wash it. I want to see what it looks like when I come back next time.”

The prospect of seeing her again made me feel so elated, I easily agreed to her request.

 

***

<might be continued one day, who knows. For today, time has run out 😞 >

Edited July 20, 2022 by Alpian
clarified age of characters

[rann 686]

You are a fantastic writer and your descriptions are vivid! You did a great job building Yvonne's naughty behavior and I was hoping that was on her mind when she first saw his treasured plant. Great job!

[Alfresco 11,629]

Absolutely superb!  Love the detailed descriptions, the conversations and the way Yvonne played with Zach, messing with his innocent emotions, teasing him with tantalising temptation and playing out her own desires.  

Edited July 24, 2022 by Alfresco

[Alpian 687]

@Alfresco Thank you for your kind words, I especially value them as they are a sign that I succeeded writing a story that not only attracts the hardcore vandalists among us. I admit I sometimes see quite a view points we have in common in this fetish and I wasn't sure this story would qualify as one of them 😉

@rann Thank you for the compliments - good to read that one of the person's having inspired the story likes it 🙂

Having finished the first chapter, I was in quite a frenzy to know how the story would continue. I've written a second part, but it is way too long and chaotic. So it will need heavy editing and I won't get around it before the end of the year as real life is demanding some attention in the upcoming months.

Just a question to those who've read the first part: Do you think it makes for a better read to purely focus on Zach's point of view, or would a chapter written from Yvonne's perspective be of interest? I believe you all have your own fantasy, and I'm not sure if I should impose my view of the characters on my readers who might well have gone in a different direction. Currently, I have the following options in mind:

• Purge the second part of all things not concerning Zach's point of view and have a second chapter about the length of the above
• Do a chapter on Zach's point of view, then a last chapter as a kind of wrap-up from Yvonne's and maybe Xenia's point of view
• Do a second chapter recounting the first one, but from Yvonne's point of view, then have a third chapter
  - Either mixing points of view going forward, a bit like in my prior stories
  - Or focusing on Zach's point of view
  - Or focusing on Zach's point of view, but sparsely mixing in the other's perspective's, e.g. in the form of what Zach had learned from them during the time that passed between the events and him writing the story.

Well, let me know what you think!

[rann 686]

Really I think both points of view have value as they are focused on different things. Zach is transfixed on the sensuality in front of him while Yvonne is pleasuring herself by toying with Zach. However, unless there are significant differences, I think two chapters of the same story from different perspectives would get repetitive. I think there is nothing wrong with naturally switching viewpoints as you tell the story!

[thisguy20 937]

Alpian,

Very well written.  Feels real: dialog, reactions, timing, etc are, in my opinion, bordering on perfection.

Two thoughts on the question / matter of viewpoints in stories.  Firstly, and I would apply this pretty much across the board to all stories which are written even remotely in the first person, only use one viewpoint within a given story; more than that can be confusing to read.  Secondly, people generally tend to write better stories when they are writing the story they (the individual doing the writing) want to read; so pick the viewpoint you prefer / think will work better.

[annon115 32]

I can't wait for the next update!

[Alpian 687]

Dear @annon115, the second chapter is written.

But: @rann and @thisguy20 have very valid arguments in the comments above. Indeed, the second part is both, confusing and in parts repetitive. It has twice the length of the first part, and probably half is a retrospective from Ms. Minx' point of view on the events in the first chapter.

There's a third part that currently only exists in my mind - need to write that down, too...

More to come - but I don't know when 🙂

[boochoy 42]

Alpian, as others said- very well written, You have brought the characters to life and fulfils 2 fantasies of mine (believe this is based on the true story by Zoroblade sometime ago, but you have taken it to new heights), As for the point of view - I would rather you continued with Zach's point of view, AS others have said otherwise it gets a bit confusing .Looking forward to the next chapter!