The New Room

[Gr8gtrr 9]

[pee, voyeurism, exhibitionism, masturbation, dreams, memory/dream, lesbianism, older-younger (college age), long story.]

The room was comfortable and the bungalow was close enough to the university to make sense for Jen. The price fit her budget. The landlady, Sara, was unmarried and in her 60s. She seemed well organized and clean. That was all Jen needed to know.

Besides, it was late August, and the housing market close to campus wasn’t exactly flooded with options. In fact, it took a last-minute cancellation to make the room available.

"So we both lucked out," Jen thought. Win-win.

After commuting from home for the first two years of college, Jen knew it was time to be closer to school. But as a 20-year-old who’d been in the same room since birth, she wasn’t about to make the plunge into dorm life. She had no experience living with students her own age. Her drive to and from campus had been long enough that the social aspects of college life had passed her by. Living with Sara would be less stressful than trying to fit into the college scene.

She spent the first weekend making trips between her parents’ house and the two-bed, one bath bungalow. By Sunday evening, she was exhausted from the driving and moving and unpacking and the heat. Sara had been out most of the weekend but helped Jen with the last few boxes.

“Don’t get dehydrated,” Sara said. She handed Jen a large bottle of water. Jen hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she took a sip and ended up downing the whole bottle in one. Sara laughed and brought another.

“There’s more in the fridge,” she said.

Jen thanked her and said she was going lie down. Sara said she might take a bath after starting the roast chicken and invited Jen to join her. “For dinner,” she said. “Not the bath.”

***

Late August afternoon light colored Jen’s window when she woke two hours later. It took her a second to realize where she was, but her new room looked even better with some of her stuff in it. The air felt nice. Even though it was smaller than her room at home, Jen already felt less confined.

She wanted to lay there in bed and think about her new sense of freedom. But she had to pee. The house was quiet when she crossed the hall to the bathroom and pushed open the unlocked door.

She stopped short. “Oh, I’m sorry Sara, I didn’t know you were in the bath!” Jen said. “The door was unlocked.”

“I forgot to mention, it’s sort of a house rule to leave it unlocked when possible. With just one bathroom in the house…you understand?”

Jen did. Her bladder was about to burst. But still, she was embarrassed to walk in on the landlady on her first day. “Are you going to be long?”

“Well,” Sara said, “the chicken’s not going to be out of the over for another hour. Why, you want to take a bath?”

“No,” Jen said. “I need to pee.”

“Oh, well, come on in.”

“I’ll wait,” Jen said.

“Suit yourself,” Sara said. “Door’s unlocked if you change your mind.”

Back in her room, Jen tried to distract herself by unpacking books. It was still hot and she was still thirsty. She wanted to drink, but she needed to pee.

Still, the idea of sitting on the toilet while her landlady was in the bath two feet away made Jen uncomfortable. She never felt at ease being naked around others. Her on-and-off again boyfriend Mike said “nice butt” every time he saw it. He meant well, it but that actually made Jen feel more self-conscious.

Being naked in front of other women was worse. Girls had an arsenal of passive aggressive “compliments” about her curves, or pale skin or even her patch of brown pubic hair. Her friend Elle once called her “that ’70s chick.” It was said in fun, but Jen suspected it was also intended embarrass. If that was Elle’s goal, mission accomplished.

Now, however, Jen was starting to realize she couldn’t afford to worry what the landlady would say about her body. She had needed to go when she got out of bed--and that was 30 minutes ago. She slid a hand into her jogging shorts. Even as she pressed to hold herself, a tiny jet of pee leaked into her cotton panties.

She knew she wasn’t going to last much longer. It had happened before, during a traffic jam on her way home from school. That was one of the reasons she decided to stop commuting. She had almost made it. A few spurts to relive the pressure had wet her panties but she thought she was over the worst of it.

But then she got out of the car.

After two steps the dam burst. Standing in her parents’ driveway she wet herself like a child. When she got in the house her mother looked at her with suspicion.

“It’s not like I did it on purpose!” Jen said.

So what would this complete stranger think if Jen wet herself now? Especially since Sara had already told her she could just come in and use the toilet.

Jen got up. She was in pain from the pressure. She felt a little more pee leak into her panties. No choice now.

She was already pushing her shorts down when she opened the bathroom door.  She saw Sara look up as she got to the toilet.

Jen barely got her panties down before she was able to sit. When she felt the seat against her bottom, the emotional relief of “made it!” equaled the physical relief she felt. She closed her eyes and leaned back like a runner finishing a heat. For a second, Jen forgot she wasn’t alone. As she let her body relax, the sound was loud enough to open her eyes. As she started to regain her bearings, she noticed Sara staring from the bathtub. Jen realized her legs were wide open. Would closing them now just make things worse? Make her look like a kid who'd been caught misbehaving? Before she could process everything, Sara spoke up.

“Don’t flush,” she said. “I need to go too.”

The landlady got out of the tub while Jen was still peeing. Jen’s family was very private about anything involving nudity. And here was this stranger acting like they were both old friends on the swim team.

“Bath was getting cold anyway,” Sara said. As the water drained, Sara grabbed a towel and stood in front of Jen. As her desperation to pee was replaced by relief, Jen started to realize that she was looking at the naked body of a 60-year-old woman for the first time.

Sara was a bit plump but not fat. Her breasts were full and certainly lower that Jen’s but not saggy. Her rounded hips were framed by a tan line to mid thigh. Clearly, Sara spent a lot of time outside in shorts. Then Jen noticed Sara's unruly patch of auburn pubic hair, which was almost at Jen’s eye level. At least she wouldn't make fun of Jen for that.

“I didn’t realize I had to go until I heard you,” Sara said. She could have been taking about doing the dishes. As Jen finished, it was Sara who pulled some paper of the roll and handed it to Jen.

“Hurry please,” Sara said. “At my age, when I have to go, I have to go.”

Jen got up. Sara didn’t sit. “Dammit” she said. She stood over the toilet peed straight down. Squatting slightly. She wasn’t lying, Jen thought. Watching Sara almost made her need to go again.

Seeing the older naked woman also made Jen realize how exposed she was. Sara was standing on Jen’s shorts and underwear. And Jen knew they weren’t dry. She felt her face flush.

Sara finished and picked up Jen’s things. “You should take a bath or a shower before dinner,” she said. “I’ll throw these in the laundry.”

Before Jen could say anything, Sara was gone, naked, with a towel on her head and Jen’s pee-soaked shorts and underwear in her hand.

***

In the shower, Jen prayed that she would wake up and that this was all a dream. First full day in her new place and she’d burst in on her landlady and partially wet herself in front of the woman!

At least Sara seemed to take it in stride. She wasn’t acting all judge-y judge-y. Not like mom. She didn’t imply that Jen had done it on purpose.

And Sara had to go as well. She wasn’t shy about that either. She had clearly been desperate. Damn, Jen thought, because of me the landlady nearly had an accident too.

What would she have done if Sara had lost it? 

It had happened to an aunt once when Jen was in high school. Her aunt Carol had been out drinking, and her uncle—mom’s brother—was away. A drunk Carol called Jen’s mom for a ride home. They got along well enough, but mom was asleep and Carol was just sober enough to say not to wake her.

Worried Carol was about to risk driving, Jen volunteered even though she wasn't supposed to drive after midnight. She picked her aunt up outside the pub and drove back to Carol’s house.

Carol was totally blitzed. And she’d been waiting at the pub for at least 40 minutes before the ride home, which took almost as long. She told Jen that the line to the bathroom was so long she just gave up.

Drunk and desperate to pee, Carol was no help when they got to the door. It took Jen some time to figure the keys. They had just made it to the foyer when Carol stopped short and said, “Oh no.” She leaned back against the door and lifted her dress. Jen watched her in shock as Carol let go right there on the floor.

Jen remembered how her aunt’s gray underpants became practically see-through as she urinated in them. "Help," Carol said. Almost subconsciously, Jen reached up and pulled Carol’s panties to the side. She felt the warm pee graze her fingers. The sound her aunt made was a mix of anguish and relief.

But Carol must have been trying to stop herself because she closed her legs. Jen’s hand was trapped there for a moment, caught between her aunt’s thighs for a good thirty seconds Carol squeezed her thigh muscles rhythmically. Jen felt Carol's hand over hers, using pressure as if she was reinforcing a dam.

Finally, she stopped and asked Jen to help her get her underwear off.

Seeing Sara standing in desperation had reminded Jen of that night: Of how weird it was sliding her aunt’s wet panties down. Of the way the drunk woman spread her legs, inadvertently making her wet underwear harder to take off. Jen recalled how she mopped the floor while her aunt watched her, still leaning against the wall with her skirt hitched up. She’d helped Carol to the bathroom and used a washcloth to clean her up.

So Sara wasn’t the first older woman Jen had seen naked after all. Jen had literally forgotten about that night with Carol until today. She and Carol hadn’t seen much of each other since then.

But now Jen remembered the aftermath: Putting Carol to bed and then taking a shower to get the scent of urine off herself, the strange charge of smelling her aunt on her fingers and resisting the urge to masturbate in the shower. Dry and dressed, she walked past her aunt’s bedroom before leaving. The door was open. Carol was on her stomach over the towels Jen had spread on the bed, just in case. Like her skirt, Carol had hiked her white nightie up above her hips. Her white bottom reflected the nightlight. It was enough for Jen to see that Carol’s hand was between her legs.

Jen felt strange about the memory. Better put that back in the “to repress” bin. And she felt strange about what had happened today, the way the new memory conjured up, lingered and mixed with the old. Maybe this living situation wasn’t such a great idea.

***

The roast chicken was good--crisp skin and real stuffing cooked inside the bird. “I do it most every Sunday,” Sara explained. “Saves cooking during the week. You’re always welcome to join me for dinner.”

Jen said thanks and insisted on cleaning up. “Of course,” Sara said. “When I cook, you clean and vice versa.”

After she finished in the kitchen, Jen called home. Sounded like they were already turning her room into an exercise room, or was it a study? Or a library? Anyway, Jen got the impression that her parents missed her but weren’t anxious to have her move back home.

She said goodnight, hit the books for a couple of hours and had a dreamless sleep.

The next few days were busy. Sara was usually gone by the time Jen, who had no early classes, was out of her room. There was always some coffee in the pot. Jen always took the time to tidy up the kitchen before heading to class, something Sara seemed to appreciate when they had their brief conversations between studying and evening classes. When she woke up Thursday, Jen found a basket of dirty laundry on the landing with a note. “If you have time to get do some wash and start the dryer before you leave, please throw these in.”

First class at noon that day: no problem. Jen carried the basket back to her room to added some of her own things to the pile. She noticed the shorts and underwear she’d worn Thursday folded neatly on her dresser. She hadn’t heard Sara come in with them.

Was it an invasion of personal space or a considerate gesture? Jen decided to call it the latter, at least for now. All the more reason to help Sara out with her laundry.

By the time she got back from class that night, Sara had finished dinner and folded the dry laundry. Jen thanked her for having washed her wet things, though neither mentioned why they were wet. “I didn’t even hear you come into the room,” Jen said.

“I didn’t want to risk waking you up,” Sara said. “You were having a hell of a dream.”

Was she? Jen tried to remember. All she could think of was a foyer. The smell of alcohol. And Jen struggling to get up from the floor. A weight on her chest. Knees on her arms. I need to get up. I can’t get up. Laughing. Liquid pouring onto her neck. The weight lifting off her chest and a shadow over her face.

That was when she woke up. Back in the present, Jen felt her face burning. Sara was looking at her. “Are you ok?”

“Yes,” Jen said. “A lot on my mind. I’d better get back studying.”

***

Back in her room, Jen felt dizzy. She hadn’t had that kind of dream for a long time. That sense of weight you can’t remove; the sensation of either drowning or burning. More than once, she’d woken up screaming. It had almost ruined one of the rare occasions she and Mike had slept together in the same bed.

“You kept calling for help and saying you’re not thirsty,” Mike said. All Jen knew was she was desperate to urinate and headed to the bathroom thankful she hadn't wet the bed. She planned to ask him if she said anything else when she got back from the bathroom. But by then, Mike was laying on the bed naked and hard. So there was no more conversation that night.

Jen remembered another time she’s had that kind of dream. It was worse. She’d been drunk. This time, in addition to the weight, a pair of legs trapped her hand. A voice said, “Oh my god, I’m pissing. It feels good. I’m going to cum.” Jen felt the hot liquid on her hands, the grip tightening. When she woke, she found her own hand between her legs, with her panties flooded with pee. Fortunately, her parents had been away that weekend. She was able to wash everything before they got home.

But what if that happened here?

Now that she thought about it, all those dreams had started after she took her drunk Aunt Carol home. That memory was still fuzzy. Had the woman wet herself or was that really just another one of those dreams?

Fragments of detail filtered into Jen’s mind: the conversation on the way home; the mild scolding her mother gave her about taking the car. Mom asked if Carol had been “okay or acting crazy?” Vivid little slices of memory. But were they real? Or were they snippets from dreams?  

Did she take her aunt’s wet panties down or dream it? Did her aunt trap her hand between her legs? Or was that also part of the dream? Had she felt a hand on the back of her head? No, now she was adding her own ideas to this so-called memory, right? Unfortunately, it wasn’t exactly something she could ask Carol about.

And at the end? When Jen walked past Carol’s bedroom door?

A cold chill of guilt went up Jen’s spine. Whether it was real or a dream, the memory that unfolded for Jen was standing in the hall and watching her uncle’s wife masturbate.  Jen had showered and was about to leave. But instead, she stood outside Carol’s open bedroom door—a door Jen herself had left open.

Jen was a voyeur spying on a woman too drunk to notice. It was a violation. Instead of leaving, she watched Carol push one finger, then two, inside herself. She watched Carol rise slightly on her knees. She watched Carol slide the middle finger from her left hand into her bottom. She watched Carol steadily pick up speed and intensity. She listened to the sounds of Carol’s breathing and of the movement of her hands. Finally, Carol exhaled and clamped her thighs firmly around her right hand before collapsing on the bed.

Just like the foyer. But in the foyer, Jen thought, it was my hand.

***

As her mind returned to the present, Jen realized her own hand was between her legs. Whether a dream or real, the images in her head were making her feel sick and giddy. She was disgusted with herself. But she could feel and hear and smell her own arousal.

Jen didn’t orgasm often. It had happened only once with Mike–that night, after the nightmare. At her parents’ house, she rarely had the privacy to fully let go. At least not when she was awake. She suspected it had happened during her dreams. Maybe.

But when Jen’s orgasms started building, they were relentless . There was no turning back. She was wet. The hand between her legs felt like she’d dipped it in olive oil.

As she slid her panties down, Jen looked up and noticed she hadn’t fully closed the door. But she knew stopping would grind everything to a stop. And if she didn’t finish now, she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Or worse, she’d sleep and have one of those dreams.

Sara was in the kitchen. If Jen was quiet, Sara would never notice, even with the door open. Just in case, Jen kept her panties above her knees.

With her right hand already working, Jen used her juices to make her left hand slippery and slide a finger into her bottom. Just like the dream. Just like Carol. She tried to control her breathing. Sara was still in the kitchen. But to Jen, the sound of her fingers was deafening. She worried that Sara would hear her.

But Jen was past the point of no return. She would have to risk it.

She heard steps in the hall. She stopped for a second. But she knew there was no way she was going to be able to not finish. The steps sounded close but she didn’t see Sara by her door. Then she heard the bathroom door open but not close. She could hear fabric moving against skin, a sigh, then the Sara peeing. Her panic subsided. From the sound, the bathroom door seemed wide open.

Jen started masturbating again. The fingers in her butt hurt a little but also felt good. Her body had never opened up to her like this before. She’d never been this wet. Later, she might be ashamed that she was masturbating while listening to her landlady piss. But now her body was in charge, not her conscience. And the sound of her own moisture was just as deafening.

Sara finished peeing. Jen waited for the toilet to flush. That would be her signal to stop.

But it didn’t.

And she didn’t.

The waves took her body. The spasms nearly crushed her fingers. She was doing everything she could to be quiet as the orgasm overwhelmed her.

The pulses eased up. She could finally exhale. As she did, she heard a low grunt from down the hall. Then the toilet flushed, the sink ran, and Sara was calling out that she was ready for bed. “The bathroom is all yours!”

***

When Jen finally calmed down enough to go wash her hands, Sara’s door was closed. In the bathroom, Jen noticed a pair of panties on the floor. When she picked them up to toss into the hamper, they were wet in the crotch. Had Sara wet herself or was that water? Jen looked at the bathroom door. It was closed. She brought the underwear to her nose and sniffed.

Sara had indeed wet herself a little bit that night. Or else she used the panties to wipe herself. Jen felt that weird tingle again but set it aside. Better to focus on sleep and tomorrow’s classes. She washed and got ready for bed.

The weekend was going to be busy. Mike was driving in on Friday night, and Jen had already told Sara she might be coming in late. Sara said it wasn’t a problem as long as they were quiet. Jen said she would be--and that it would just be her coming in that night.

“Either way,” Sara said. “For some reason, I seem to get insomnia on Fridays. So if I’m not awake at all hours, I’ll be in bed with a sleep mask and a sound machine on headphones. You could have the Who in here and I’d barely notice?”

Jen had no idea what Sara meant by “the Who,” but was too embarrassed to ask. She’d Google it later.

Meanwhile, she appreciated the way Sara had handled the idea of Mike staying over without making her ask permission. But she had already told Mike it was a no go and used Sara as the excuse.

It wasn’t a total lie. Not even a week into her new living arrangement, Jen thought it wasn’t exactly the ideal time to bring a boyfriend Mike into the mix.

***

Dinner with Mike was unexpectedly nice. He had clearly made the effort to dress up for her. Rather than pawing at her or giving her a hard time about not letting him sleep over, he actually listened. As they pulled up in front of the bungalow, he said, “I can already see a difference in you living here, Jen. Getting away from home is going to be good for you, and probably for us too.”

He gave her a short but hot-enough kiss at the door and drove off. Jen didn’t quite know what to make of it.

As promised, she entered the bungalow as quietly as she could. A nightlight was on in her room. Again, she wondered if she considered Sara being considerate or invasive. Between Mike’s gentlemanly behavior and this, Jen was feeling a bit confused.

She walked past the landlady’s door and saw Sara was asleep with her mask and earbuds on. Jen went into the bathroom, did what she had to do before bed, and called it a night.

Saturday was a scorcher, made worse by the fact that Jen’s mother insisted on driving down and taking her shopping. Sara was home long enough to say hello and politely decline a dinner invitation because she had longstanding plans that  evening. “It’s my turn to come in late,” she said.

Jen’s mother said, “Don’t tell me Jenny has been out at all hours. She’s not here to party.”

“Nothing like that,” Sara said. “She had a late class and was considerate enough to let me know ahead of time.”

Jen was amazed by how Sara had deflected, but she was still mortified by the way mom talked in front of her landlady.

That was all forgotten as she and mom hit the Home Goods and stopped at the supermarket. Jen said she wanted to get a thank you for Sara and asked if her mom would mind buying a couple of bottles of wine since she couldn’t legally do it herself.

“Good to see they card here!” her mother said. Always the life of the party, her mom.

But Mom not only paid for the wine; she talked to the guy at the store and asked for recommendations--something Jen was too shy to do. They got Carol fairly expensive Chardonnay and a couple of bottles of rosé for dinner.

***

The bungalow was empty when Jen and her mom got back. Her mother made chicken Marsala with plenty left over for the week and then headed back to the suburbs after dinner.

Alone at home in the evening for the first time, Jen decided to take a bath. Her mom had opened one of the wine bottles, and Jen was feeling warm inside. Fall was in the air, and the sunny day had given way to a chilly night. The perfect time to sit in the tub.

She undressed in her room and walked naked to the bathroom, carrying the rest of the rosé and a wineglass. She got into the empty tub and felt the cold porcelain against her bottom. Feeling something cool against her skin always made her feel exposed and naked, even when she was alone. She thought about the first time Mike had taken her panties off. They’d been outside on a cool autumn evening when Mike reached under her skirt and slid her panties down. His warm hand felt nice, but it was the cool air on her exposed skin that had made her wet.  

Now she was studying her white legs in the empty tub, the dark hair between them, the round curve of her belly. She looked at her firm breasts and small nipples. Like little roses, Mike had said. So different from Sara’s. She blushed when she remembered Sara in the bath and the way she had to invade the landlady’s bath time because she couldn’t hold her pee.

Jen felt that twinge between her legs again. The wine was getting to her. Sara was out. It felt good to be alone.

Jen put her feet up on the edges of the tub. She thought about opening the faucets. She loved filling the bath while she was in it, the way the hot water inched up to warm her. But there was something to be said about shivering in the empty tub. The cool air felt like eyes on her. Her nipples were hard.

Jen took a sip of wine and used her free hand to tweak and pinch first one nipple, and then the other. She felt the jolt between her legs. With her legs up on the tub’s edges, Jen looked at her reflection in the metal fixtures. It made her laugh. She thought she looked like a porn star in a fun house mirror. But it was also arousing, being able to openly look at herself without her parents in the same building. No one in the same building.

Jen took another sip of wine and then refilled her glass. “I have to pee,” she said out loud. But that would involve getting up. And the cool tub felt too good against her back.  She slid her hand between her legs. There was plenty of heat there. Her clit was already hard. The cold air was giving her gooseflesh, but that one part of her was on fire.

She felt so open, so exposed. She slid two fingers inside. She was wet. She thought about Mike. It was rare she was this wet when they made love.

She looked at her distorted reflection in the fixtures. It was like watching someone else. She emptied her wine glass and used her other hand on her nipples. Jen’s fingers felt slick and moved easily inside her. She slipped one down to the back and it slid easily into her bottom. Mike would love this, she thought. Maybe she’d let him try it sometime. But he’d need learn how to get her this wet. Maybe she’d tell him he could if she could do it to him too. “Make him earn it,” she said aloud. The resonance of her voice in the empty bath startled her.

Jen watched herself and imagined being watched. She could smell her own scent, stronger than she ever remembered it. She was going to need this bath, for sure. She thought about her dream. About watching her drunk aunt masturbate. Was it a dream? Or did Carol really do that the night Jen drove her home?

Jen felt the buildup. Should she cum before pouring the bath? Or wait. Her hand pressed her abdomen above her pubic hair. Her bladder was now aching for relief. “I should get up,” Jen thought. At home, Jen sometimes peed in the bath. But this was someone else’s house.

And she remembered how the landlady got out of the bath to pee. Jen wasn’t about to forget that image soon. The woman’s low breasts and long nipples. Her skin red from the hot water. Standing and uninhibited in her desperation.

Laying in the empty tub, Jen looked at the toilet and pictured what Sara had seen that night: Her new tenant with her wet panties on the floor gushing like a fool. God, how embarrassing.

She felt the twinge between her legs. She’d never actually watched herself pee. But she could now, in the tub. A voyeur peeking at her own nakedness. Jen pulled her legs back and looked down at herself. She was red and wet and open.  She inched up to put her feet on the tile wall above the faucet. She was desperate to let it go. But she waited until she found an angle that let her see her reflection and her own body at the same time. Watching herself was almost as good as touching.

Jen teased her nipples and opened her legs as far as she could. She wanted to touch her clit but decided to hold off. The pressure inside her was overwhelming. She used both hands to pinch her nipples. She felt her muscles relax. Jen exhaled and watched as a trickle of pee turned into a jet that arced up against the tub and the tile. She moaned out loud from the relief and the excitement. She could feel her insides pulse. She felt the warmth of her pee against her bottom, her fingers digging hard into her nipples.

The stream was still flowing when Jen reached between her legs and brought herself off in just a few seconds. The aftershocks made her lightheaded. It took full minute for Jen to realize that she was lying in an empty tub in her own urine. Finally, she started the water.

***

Jen must have fallen asleep, because the water was lukewarm when she heard the front door and the sound of keys hitting the kitchen counter. Sara was home.

She’ll probably need the bathroom, Jen thought. She would have gotten out but she was too cold and wanted to warm up. She added some hot water to the cold and decided to wait.

“Jen, are you in the bath?”

“Just a few more minutes,” Jen said. Her own voice sounded funny. She still felt lightheaded and a bit drunk. She’d finished the bottle of wine on her own, and she’d never been much of a drinker.

The warm water felt good. Jen had to pee again. She thought about doing it in the full bath but decided that would be too much. Her nipples were hard. Was it from the cold?

Sara’s voice was closer now. She was outside the bathroom door. “Thanks for the wine!” she said. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“Mom and I wanted to say thanks for making me feel welcome in your home,” Jen said, shutting off the water.

“It's your home too now. Are you taking a bath?”

“Yes, but I’ll be out soon,” Jen said. “I fell asleep and I just need to warm back up.”

“Take your time,” Sara said. “But…did you remember the house rule about keeping the door unlocked?”

Jen flashed back to the Sunday before when she’d almost wet herself while Sara was in the bath. Had she remembered not to lock the door? “I think so?” Jen said.

“Hon, is it okay if I come in then? I really need the toilet.”

Jen felt that weird twinge again. In truth, she’d been thinking about rubbing herself again when she woke up. She was about to when she heard Sara return. Her body was already expecting a reward.

“If you’re getting out right now I can wait,” Sara said. “But I heard you add more water so I assume you want to be in there for a while?”

“You can come,” Jen said. “Come in.”

Sara opened the door and entered the bathroom. She was wearing an elegant black dress and black tights. She’d taken off her shoes, but otherwise was perfectly dressed. It was the first time Jen had seen Sara wearing makeup.

They made eye contact. Jen realized she was completely naked while Sara was dressed formally.

“Thanks, Jen,” Sara said. “We were at a memorial service all day and there was a lot of toasting.”

“I’m sorry,” Jen said.

“It’s okay,” Sara said. “He passed a few months ago, so I’ve accepted it. But this was the first day we could all get together. Being with friends, drinking and remembering; it helped take away some of the sting.”

Jen wanted to ask who died. How? When? Why? But that was what her mom would have done. So she remained quiet.

She expected Sara to make a beeline for the toilet but the older woman came towards the tub and squatted to check the water. “Could be hotter,” she said. “Want me to let some cold out? You can add some hot back.”

Sara reached the drain lever and let some of the lukewarm water out. Jen thought Sara looked stunning in her formal but simple black clothes. Not a dress, she realized, but a skirt with a matching top. The white of Saras legs showed against the stretched nylon of her tights.

It all made Jen feel incredibly naked. Her legs had been spread when Sara was outside the door and Jen just realized she’d neglected to close them, just like last week. The older woman could see everything from where she was squatting by the faucet.

By the time Sara stopped draining the tub and turned on the hot tap, the water was low enough to fully expose Jen’s breasts and belly. “I see you had a few toasts as well,” Sara said, indicating the empty bottle.

Jen just nodded. The hot water felt so good. She ran one of her feet under it. She closed her eyes. Was Sara looking at her down there? She felt that twinge. She caught herself as her hand brushed her nipple. It sent a jolt through her. She knew she was getting wet inside. But she wasn’t drunk enough to masturbate in front of her landlady, right?

Sara’s voice broke into her thoughts. “Damn, the sound of the water reminded me why I came in in the first place.”

Jen opened her eyes. Sara was still next to the tub.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Sara said. “It’s…I only have to pee. I wouldn’t do the other while you’re in the bath.”

Jen looked at Sara. The older woman made no move to get up. She was squatting by the side of the tub, mixing the water near Jen’s feet. Was she really asking permission?

Jen wanted to say, “No, why would I mind?” or “It’s your house,” or even “Knock yourself out.” But instead, she said “How badly do you need to go?”

“Quite badly,” Sara said. Jen noticed that the landlady had her free hand between her legs. She was holding herself, much as Jen had done that first night.

“I know what that’s like,” Jen said. “Sometimes we don’t realize how long we’ve needed to go before it becomes an emergency.”

“Especially when you’ve had a few glasses of wine,” Sara added.

“Exactly,” Jen said. She was aware of her own need and remembered how she took care of it before her bath. What would Sara do if she just pissed in the full tub? Probably kick her out in disgust.

“I’d be afraid to ruin my good clothes if I were dressed like that,” Jen added.

“Oh, you know,” Sara said, “sometimes it can’t be helped. Especially with these tights. They can be hard to get off in a hurry.”

“You should probably take care of it,” Jen said. “I really don’t mind.”

Sara stood and unzipped her skirt and hung it on a towel rack. “I want to save a trip to the dry cleaner,” she explained. She was now standing in her black blouse and tights. Jen noticed how Sara was squeezing her legs together. It seemed like she really had to pee. But she sure was taking her time about it.

Jen also really needed to pee now. The wine had gone through her quickly. The hot water was like an accelerant.

As if reading her thoughts, Sara said, “You must also have to go after drinking all that wine.”

Sara’s words just added to Jen’s urgency. She was feeling uncomfortable. Maybe I should just get up and do it while Sara’s wrestling with her tights, Jen thought. She pictured the scene. Sara struggling to get her tights down while Jen seized the throne. She pictured Sara losing it and ruining her tights while Jen blissfully pissed. That wouldn’t be fair or nice.

But part of Jen was frustrated that she had to wait because of Sara. If Sara hadn’t burst in here like this, I’d have peed and cum again, Jen thought. The room smelled a bit of pee. Was that her own from before? Or was that Sara? Black tights didn’t show the wet.

“These tights are a pain to get off,” Sara said. She had her fingers under the waistband. Every time Sara spoke, Jen would look directly at her. Sara’s wide hips and thighs stretched her tights. Jen could see the shape of the older woman’s privates. Sara’s legs were shaking. Jen wondered if she was going to do it there in the tights—and wondered how she’d react to seeing that.

The more she started at Sara, the more Jen felt her own urge to pee. Her hand reached between her legs the way she’d seen Sara do a few moments before. But she was naked; even if it was to stop herself pissing in the bath, Jen had her hand on her privates in front of someone else. Someone she barely knew.

“I hardly ever wear tights,” Jen said. “But I know how hard they can be to get down in an emergency. I had to help my aunt one time.”

Oh shit. Jen did not mean to mention that. She felt that twinge and the heat against her fingers. But Sara said nothing about it. Of course, she’d never guess what had happened. Only Jen knew that.

“Do you need help?” Jen almost choked on her own words. Where the hell did that come from? “I mean, to speed things along.”

“Let’s see if I can do it on my own,” Sara said.

Let’s see. Let us. So--Jen was expected to watch. Fine. Just hurry up, she thought. She was going to be creating a fountain in the tub soon.

Sara worked the tights down to mid-thigh. Jen saw she was wearing back cotton panties underneath. Those came down too. The landlady’s auburn triangle was fully exposed. It was sparser than Jen realized. She could see the details of Sara’s private parts.

“This is the toughest part,” Sara said. Since I put on some weight this year.”

Without thinking, Jen knelt in the tub and reached behind Sara to help work the tights down her legs. The older woman’s pussy was at Jen’s face level, and her scent was powerful. It was different from Jen’s own. The skin on the back of Sara’s thighs felt warm and damp. Was it sweat?

“Oh God, hurry,” Sara said. She put both hands between her legs and Jen saw a little dribble seep through the older woman’s fingers. She remembered Aunt Carol and her dreams. She almost reached her hand between Sara’s legs but focused her attention on getting the tights down instead.

Finally, she worked the tights down below Sara’s knees, calves, and ankles. The landlady stepped out of them and sat down on the toilet. She opened her legs. Jen looked directly between Sara’s legs. So, this is what it must have looked like last Sunday, Jen thought. She pictured herself, exposed like Sara was now. She still felt embarrassed but also something else. Jen waited. She was staring. She knew she shouldn’t, but she didn’t stop herself.

She glanced up at Sara’s face. The older woman was watching her too. Jen knew Carol could see where she was looking. But she didn’t cover up. Sara’s thighs were shaking. Sara’s toes were curling, flexing her calves. Jen felt her hand was between her legs. God, she was drunk and she had to pee. She had to hold it in until Sara finished. That’s why her hand was there. Only for that.

Why wasn’t Sara going? Was Jen putting her off by looking? Let her tell me not to look, Jen thought. I felt like a prude for being shy. Now she’s shy. Jen pressed herself harder.

But Sara said nothing. Jen looked at her face again. Sara was looking into Jen’s eyes. But then Sara’s eyes darted towards he tub. Jen realized what she was looking at. On her knees, out of the water, she had her hand between her legs. And Sara could see it.

Jen looked at her landlady in her formal back shirt, naked from the waist down. She felt the tingle in her own privates. Why is Sara waiting? Why is she so exposed? Why am I staring at her?

Jen watched Sara watch her. The urge to pee was getting too strong. “I need to,” Jen said. Her own voice sounded strange. Thick, desperate.

Sara looked at her. Their eyes met. Sara licked her fingers slowly put her hand between her legs, watching Jen’s eyes as they followed her hand down. Jen felt the twinge again. She pressed her own hand harder into her crotch.

Sara’s hand was moving slowly between her legs as she sat on the toilet, her tights trailing off one ankle. She looked more naked, Jen thought, than anyone she’s ever seen. Her skin so white against her black shirt.

She watched Sara’s hand increase its pace. There was no mistaking what the woman was doing.

Jen felt the warmth rush up inside her own body. Her hand was getting wet. Her body above the water felt cold. Her nipples were hard. “I need to,” she said again.

Sara was watching her. Jen felt exposed, but not just because she was naked. The way Jen was watching Sara, being seen as a watcher...that was a kind of exposure too. Naked interest.

This wasn’t like watching in a dream that may or may not have been real. This was happening. Jen wasn’t hiding in the hallway with her hand in her panties. She was openly staring between the older woman’s legs. And that woman was watching her do it. And her own body, naked, nipples hard…she couldn’t pretend she wasn’t aroused.

Neither spoke for a minute. Jen was aware of a dripping faucet and the sound of their breathing. Finally, Sara said: “Do it.”

Jen wasn’t sure if Sara meant pee in the tub, masturbate, or what. It didn’t matter because Jen could not longer stop herself; she began to pee in the tub.

As she did, Sara’s hand picked up speed. Sara made no sound but for the quick grunts Jen had overheard days before. Sara was still rubbing herself as her dam burst, liquid shining against the older woman's hands. Jen felt her hard clit against her own fingers and the pulsing contractions build inside her body.

When Sara finished, Jen watched her lean back and let out a long breath. She brought her feet up onto the toilet seat. Jen stared at the older woman’s wet and open sex.

Jen felt Sara’s eyes focus on her. She felt Sara’s dyes penetrate her. Sara’s eyes pushed Jen’s fingers deeper inside her sex, into her bottom, against her clit. Sara’s eyes burned into Jen. They knew Jen’s memories and her dreams and were revealing Jen’s own secrets to her, making her remember, to know.

Jen pictured what Sara was seeing and felt herself explode.

-END-

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Edited December 29, 2022 by Gr8gtrr
typos

[Fknsl1 8]

Nice adventures, thanks for posting!!!

[Gr8gtrr 9]

Thanks!

[wetwulf 3,324]

Amazing story @Gr8gtrr. I love how you built to the "climax" of the story and how Sara's actions brought out Jen's erotic fetish.

[Gr8gtrr 9]

Thank you so much, especially coming from you! THANKS!