Weasel

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Weasel last won the day on November 29 2018

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About Weasel

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  • My pronouns are..
    he/him

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    Bathroom Control
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  1. Weasel

    My Bad Writing

    I'd forgotten all about this! Thank you -- and nicely done! The Ren Faire was a nice touch...
  2. Weasel

    Bride Bag Pee

    It's on my list to write one.
  3. Actually I was gonna branch out a little. I've got some new characters. But hey, maybe Zeph needs a solo story, too. Sorry for the delay on getting Season 3's PDF together, folks. I planned on including two bonus stories in this collection, and I've got one -- but the other is as yet unwritten and I've gotten nowhere on writing it. Work's been crazed, I'm traveling all next week... So what would people rather have me do? Tidy up the Season 3 PDF as it stands, and release it? Or write the last little "side story" and put it in? (You'll have a while to decide, since as I said, I'm away from home next week.)
  4. Thank you, everyone! It's been a great pleasure writing for you all. Now, of course, I feel sad, and wonder if I could squeeze out another few tales... but best not to, beyond the PDF bonuses. All good things must come to an end, before they stop being good. (Now of course, there are other characters I have in mind who I might develop further... but I make no promises! )
  5. Well, here it is, folks. The grand finale. A year and a half's worth of stories, leading us here. Before we get to the story, I want to thank all the fans who supported me. Without that, I would have given up on this story arc long ago. As it is, I'm walking away not because of any lack of acclaim on this forum, but because one, I'm getting a little bored, and two, it's best to end on a high note. No need for a slow decline. And I hate stories left unfinished. Best to wrap it up. What's still to come? I will put all the "Season 3" stories together, with a couple bonus tales, and make that available; then I'll release the complete set, possibly with still more bonus content. Maybe a glimpse of Meagan & Parker's future. A little behind-the-scenes stuff, too. I wonder... perhaps a Q&A? "I write omofic that somehow turned into a romance novel. AM(M)A!" [Ask Me (Mostly) Anything] There are a lot of callbacks and references to prior stories in here. Mostly in italics, occasionally in the dialogue. Sort of a "grand tour/greatest hits" approach. I was tempted to go track down all the stories but that would take me ages. If you'd like to read everything, or just want to know what Parker's remembering in this story, just PM me for the PDFs. And now, with no further stalling... time for the curtain to go up for the last time. Enjoy. (Oh, and if you've read my stories you know what to expect, but there will be sex. So much sex.) ----------------------------------------------------------- Congratulations (Graduation Day) For once Parker woke up first. He checked the clock: they could sleep a little longer. But he didn’t go back to sleep. Instead he watched Meagan breathing, the rise and fall of the sheets over her chest, hair splayed out across the pillow. It had been a good night. They’d had a lot of good nights lately, and good days, and what could have felt like something winding down instead felt new again, new and exciting, headed for the future. He was the luckiest kid on the planet. And she was just about to be a college graduate. Her alarm started to beep. He reached across her and turned it off, then proceeded to wake her in his own way. He’d thought about going down on her, but instead he used his fingers. That way when she slowly woke, and stretched in that sleepy-sexy way, he could see the expression on her face. Which was delightful. “Mmmmmmm,” she said, smiling, eyes still half-lidded. “’Snice. Kee’ goin’.” He kissed her, and did. Keeping his thumb on her clit, he slipped a finger into her. She was already getting a little slick. He kept it up until she started to breathe a little heavy, then backed off a bit. She made little protesting noises. “I’d keep going,” he said, “but your alarm went off a few minutes ago.” “Doesn’t matter. Keep going.” “We’ll be late for graduation.” “It was cute when Willow and Oz did it,” she said. “Keep going.” “As you wish. But maybe this way instead...” Now he did go down on her. Her little murmurs of approval turned into moans of delight. She was getting closer when he paused (letting his fingers take over) and asked, “Do you want to wait until tonight?” “No.” “I just don’t want you to miss anything…” “We’ve got time,” she gasped. “Keep going.” He chuckled, and went back to licking—but he left his finger where it was, beckoning. It didn’t take long after that. “Fuck yeah,” she said. “Now that’s how to wake up.” She tried to sit up, failed, rolled over on her side. He came up to join her. “So what do we need to do?” he asked. “Well, I need to shower, and get breakfast, and then get dressed. But first I gotta take my last piss as an undergraduate.” “Line-up’s at 9:30, ceremony’s at 10—and it’ll last for a couple hours.” “Are you doubting me? After all we’ve been through?” “Never.” “Better not. Besides, you know the plan. And I’m gonna stick to it.” “I’m excited.” “Fuckin’ right you are,” she said, feeling up his hard-on. She sat up, more sucessfully this time. “Pee, then shower, then breakfast, then gettin’ dolled up.” She got up, wrapped a towel around her, and grabbed her shower bag. With one hand on the doorknob, she said, “Hey.” “Hmm?” “Wanna come watch?” “Yes please.” He threw on some shorts and they went down to the bathroom together. The house was quiet. Trav, Zach, and Cara were graduating too, but they were all downstairs. So no one saw Meagan and Parker slip into the bathroom together. She stood by the toilet for a moment, posing a little for him. “If you’re just gonna stand there, can I go first?” Parker asked. “Oh hell no.” She unwrapped the towel, to his delight, and sat down on the toilet. Then she frowned. “Hmm, I gotta do something else, hon. Maybe you don’t wanna be here for that part?” “Um—yeah, I’ll go. But I really do gotta pee too.” “Mmmkay. Let’s pee together.” She opened her legs. He needed no further urging. Mingling their streams together felt… well, right, in its own weird way. He said so. “Symbolic, almost,” he said. “Mmmhmm,” she said, tracing the length of his cock with her finger. “So much. Our own twisted little symbol. But now I’m about to drop a bomb, hon, and I don’t wanna shit all over your metaphor.” “Leaving! I’ll get breakfast ready,” he added as he stepped out. “Thank you!” Breakfast wasn’t fancy—just cereal, trying to use up the last of the milk before they moved out. Besides, they were going to have a big meal later that day. He took the bowls back up to the room, and she came back in not long after, hair dark and wet around her shoulders. She closed the door behind her, then unwrapped the towel and let it drop. He admired her body as she started taking clothes out of the closet. “Wanna eat this cereal before it gets soggy?” he said. “Mmkay!” She sat down on the bed, still naked, and took the bowl from him. They ate quickly and quietly. She caught him looking more than once, and her eyes flashed with delight and desire in acknowledgement. Then she stood up and took her cap and gown out of the closet. “So I know I had that whole outfit planned,” she said, “but how about this instead?” And she put the mortarboard on. “Just that?” “Mmmhmm!” “That’s a strong fashion statement,” he said. “I feel like the president might frown on it…” “Oh, just because I’m hotter than her?” “Nah, every woman in the crowd would be thinking that.” She grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere.” She took the flat hat off and combed her wet hair out. “Hang on, let me get a picture with the funny hat,” Parker said, going for the Polaroid camera. She laughed and put it back on and posed for him—framed in the closet door, one hand on her hip and the other on the frame, a triumphant/seductive smile on her face and nothing on her body. Click. Then she took the hat off again and started putting together her wardrobe for the day. The base layer was her best bra and panties—the same matching dark-red satin pair she’d worn two years before for his first birthday present. They still brought out her hair and her eyes amazingly. “No, silly—here… I’m about to leak, I’m gonna piss right now…” “Wait!” “There’s no way I can wait any more!” He could almost hear her stream splattering on the bottom of the trash can. He watched as she tucked her breasts into the cups of the bra and hooked it up. Strange how putting it on could be almost exciting as taking it off. Then he flashed back again, this to the first time she’d ever taken that bra off for him: “No, let me, you’ll take forever...” Next a pair of jeans—but at least not ripped—and a pair of brand-new Converse sneakers. “I do love your mom,” she said. “I honestly think she was mortified,” Parker said. Meagan shrugged (oh, so amazing when she wasn’t wearing a shirt yet!)—but she did blush a little. “I’ve got my style. Deal with it.” Making a virtue of financial necessity, he thought—but instead he just said, “Graduating in jeans and sneakers is not my mother’s way.” “I know. But she bought me new jeans and sneakers anyway. That’s why I love her.” “Mmmhmm. For the record, I think my dad loves the idea.” “Probably.” She slipped into a blouse, her solitary concession to the formality of the occasion. Then she brushed her hair again. “Wearing it down?” “Best thing about me,” she said. “Oh, I very much beg to differ.” “What, you’ve got a different contender?” “Well, let’s just say you’ve got many excellent qualities that are all jockeying for first.” “Yeah? Let’s hear ‘em.” “These,” he said, running his hands over her boobs, “and these,” down to her hips and legs, “and of course this...” tapping her bladder. She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, and those too.” “What?” “Your eyes.” She smiled. “See?” he said. “Your eyes are just… amazing.” “No, I can’t see,” she said, shoving him gently, “because I can’t see my own eyeballs!” He grabbed her, starting to steer her toward the mirror, but she laughed and said, “Mirrors lie, don’t you know that by now?” “Then let me be your mirror. And this mirror says you are stunning. Every inch of you.” She kissed him. “And I’m so proud of you.” “Thank you,” she said. “For all of that.” They made out until she saw the clock. “Crap. I should head over.” “I’ll walk you there.” “I was hoping you would.” Outside it was a bright spring morning, already warm. It would get still warmer, with those clear blue skies. They walked hand-in-hand onto campus. She was wearing her funny hat, and had her gown draped over an arm. The graduates were supposed to line up in alphabetical order inside Cole Hall. Ahead of them, the rest of Meagan’s graduating class was converging. Young men stood around, dressed sharply in ties and wingtips—or just in t-shirts and shorts, pretending that they were naked underneath. Parker briefly contemplated Meagan doing the same, only actually naked under the gown, but decided it wasn’t the time. Young women flocked together (with the occasional proud loner), in high heels and skirts or dresses, with well-done hair and immaculate makeup—or, rather closer to Meagan’s style, in t-shirts and flip-flops. There was a decided hippie aspect to their school sometimes. Meagan outshone them all—at least to Parker’s eyes. “Here’s where I get off,” he said as they reached Cole’s front door. “See you on the other side.” “’Kay. Love you.” “Right back atcha.” They kissed, and Parker went in search of his parents. In time they called him, since they hadn’t been able to find him either, and with a little bit of phone triangulation, Parker finally tracked them down. Since they were not officially family, they did not have reserved seats. But it was an outdoor ceremony, and they could get a perfectly fine view off to the side. Donna Daniels had managed to get a program, though, and they flipped through to find Meagan’s name. “Oh, she got honors!” Donna said. “She didn’t tell us...” “Departmental and college,” Will Daniels added. “She didn’t tell me either,” Parker said. “I don’t think she knew! She was really worried, down toward the end…” The sun shone down through the leaves of the trees all around them, casting lovely intricate patterns of shadows. At times this was the most interesting part of the program, while waiting for the good parts. The various speakers droned on, the various performers performed. Finally names began to be read and graduates began to proceed across the stage. When they hit the L’s, Parker began searching what he could see of the line, looking ahead for Meagan. He spotted her fairly quickly. She was obviously looking around for him. He waved, but this didn’t help. Then, just as she stepped up onto the stage, her eyes made one last sweep across the crowd—and locked onto him. He put his hand up. She grinned, wide enough that he could see it from forty yards away, and put her hand over her heart. Then: “Meagan McAllister!” She strode forward, red academic gown swirling around her jeans and sneakers, took her diploma firmly in one hand, shook the president’s hand with her other—and as she came down off the stage, she punched the sky in triumph. Then there were the last impatient moments—everyone from M through Z, for instance, and the presentation of the Class of 2006, and the turning of tassels… Finally the cheers rang out, the applause rained down, and the graduates processed out onto the quad, where they broke up and found their families. Meagan was laughing, laughing out loud, as she ran to Parker and the Danielses. She picked Parker right up off his feet and spun him around and kissed him, and then hugged Donna and Will almost as enthusiastically, and everything about her radiated the words I did it I did it I did it! “Well done,” Donna said. “I got pictures of it all,” Will said. “Hope they turn out okay.” “Thank you,” Meagan said, still half-laughing, her eyes bright. “Thank you for coming, and for taking pictures, and… and for everything…” “You’re welcome,” Donna said. “How could we not come? We hear you’re going to be in our lives a while longer yet. And we hear that our son has found an exceptionally sensible, clear-eyed young woman to love.” Meagan hugged her again. “To put it another way,” Will said, “Welcome to the family.” So then Meagan had to hug him again, and started to cry. And kept laughing, at the same time. When her sobbing guffaws had settled down in Parker’s arms, and when she’d dried her eyes, commented on the benefits of not wearing makeup, and posed for a succession of pictures with the Danielses, and when they were walking somewhat aimlessly through campus, exulting in the warmth of the sun and the sheer joy of the day, Will said, “So! Lunchtime?” “Yes please,” Meagan said, and they piled in the Daniels car and headed off. Donna had wisely made reservations some weeks before, because the town was small and therefore graduation filled up every acceptable-for-parents hotel and restaurant quickly. It was the kind of restaurant that might have made Meagan nervous on any other day—it was not really a Converse sneakers kind of place, and the prices almost exclusively came in small, discreet double digits. But today she was on top of the world, and besides, the parents were paying. So she wore her mortarboard into the restaurant (but not the gown) and defied the world to question her attire. Then she set the funny hat aside to tie back her hair and actually eat. And drink. Parker watched her steadily plow through a glass of water, a glass of wine, and then another water. She nudged him with her knee under the table to draw attention to each new glass she drained. Parker felt his pulse begin to climb, for he knew the plan. “So you wanna head out now?” “Sure. Bring your water bottle.” “Bring yours. I’m gonna want more than just one bottle if I’m going to pee all over campus…I’m gonna probably have to pee in—oh, about ten minutes, after all that water. Where to next?” The memory of that most-memorable Thanksgiving break faded as the conversation came around to an important issue. “So, this summer at the camp again, and then you start at Michigan in the fall,” Donna said. “Right,” Meagan said. “The scholarship came through, and I’m getting the loans lined up. Makes me a little nervous, that part. But honestly, the roughest thing about all this is that I’m going to ‘that school up north.’ My family’s always been on the OSU side.” Donna and Will both looked a little blank. “Football rivalry,” Meagan said dismissively. “Doesn’t matter. It might matter to my family. But to me? Does not matter at all.” “Have you told your family that you graduated?” Donna asked. “I’m gonna send them a picture of my diploma,” Meagan said. “Parker talked me out of writing ‘Haha, got it anyway’ on the back.” “How wise of him,” Donna said. As the meal wrapped up, they made arrangements for the next day. “We’ll be over at ten to help you move out,” Donna said. “What’s next for you two today? Parties?” “Well, maybe,” Meagan said. “But mostly we’re gonna take a walk and just enjoy the moment.” “Be careful you don’t stay out too long,” Will said. “Forecast says there’ll be thunderstorms this evening.” “We’ll be fine,” Meagan said. She poured her third glass of water, ice and all, into her bottle, and then took a sip. The elder Danielses dropped them off at Franklin House and waved their further congratulations and take-cares. As Meagan and Parker walked up to the big white pillars, Parker looked up at the house and said, “Weird that we’re leaving tomorrow. And a little sad.” “Sad? We had some rough times here.” “And some great times.” “ ’Kay, that’s fair.” “And we’re about to have another great time.” “Mmmmhmmm.” The house was empty—none of the other graduates or celebrating housemates had come back yet—so they could speak freely. “How you doin’?” Parker asked. “Oh, I’m starting to feel it a bit,” Meagan said, and took a swig from her bottle. “Only just now?” “It was hot out in that robe! I was sweating a little. Don’t worry, I’ll make up for lost time”—and she took another swig. “I just want to change clothes, speaking of sweating—and then we can go.” She ran upstairs and came down again just a moment later, having swapped her button-down blouse for a t-shirt with the college name emblazoned across her breasts, and her jeans for cut-offs. Then they locked the door behind them and headed out. They were bound for a place they hadn’t spent a lot of time, until quite recently: the river valley. The river had carved a notch in the prairie here, not quite a gorge but deep enough that several streets crossed it on bridges. Down below those bridges was a park, if park was the right word. It didn’t get a lot of attention or traffic, especially away from the main road down to it, and was edging into wild, unclaimed, certainly unkempt land. There were some old abandoned buildings along that road, of some historical significance but without much care. And the river flowed serenely through it all. They were going to the river. It was about a twenty-minute walk from Franklin House to the valley floor: they had to cross one of the bridges, turn left and then follow a fishhook-shaped road down back under the bridge they’d just come over, and then down to the bottom. They passed the old buildings, the concrete shells no longer roofed, and went south along the riverbank, following the little path that walkers used. They met a few people here and there. Having gone pretty far south, however, they came to the edge of what seemed parklike and crossed over into the land that was much more untended. The path got narrower and the bushes got bigger. Then they re-found the little place they’d discovered on an earlier expedition: a little grass patch by the river, not so overgrown, but still mostly hidden by the bushes on either side and a tree overhead, which kept the people in the houses above from seeing anything. Having just walked for the better part of an hour, Meagan and Parker sat down on the grass and cuddled. “How are you doing?” Parker asked again. “Oh, I’m just fine. Gotta pee a little bit, but that’s no trouble yet,” she said cheerfully. “I got my lover, I got a warm spring day, I got my diploma—what could be better?” “Well, from my perspective: having to pee a little more.” “Gotcha covered,” she said, and took another deep pull on her water bottle. He rested his head on her shoulder. “Love you.” “Yeah you do.” “So how are we gonna do this?” “Well, according to the plan… “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean today. I meant when you’re in Ann Arbor.” “Well, excuse you for being so vague. Also for ruining a perfectly good setup for a ‘doing you’ joke.” “Oooh, a tragic loss! My deepest apologies.” “ ’Kay. So you mean long-disctance. Well, there’s this thing called Skype.” “I’ve heard of it.” “We’ll have to get webcams, but I think those aren’t too expensive… and I may have hinted that they’d make a great graduation gift…” “Heh. You’re brilliant.” “It’ll be important for way more than sex. I think we should make some commitments around communication.” “I agree, that’s gonna be critical. Every day?” “We definitely need to text every day. Even if it’s just ‘How’d your day go, less than three.’ ” “Huh? …Oh, I get it. Mmkay. But not calling?” “Let’s call on Skype… twice a week? Three times?” “Twice a week for sure. But we can go higher.” “Agreed. And one of those should be date night. I don’t want to suck up all your social life, though, so maybe not Friday or Saturday?” “Tuesday, maybe? So we’ve got something to look forward to at the beginning of the week?” “Mm, nice idea. But we may need to adjust based on our school schedules. Still, no matter about that, here’s what I’m thinking for date night: call on Skype and eat dinner together. And then after that… well, be sure you’re alone.” “Mmmmmmmm.” “It’s funny, I think it’ll be easy to do our kinks online, at least by comparison. It’s the other kinds of sex that’ll be harder… but we can show off for each other, I guess.” “I can see how we can do my kink,” he said, thinking of a dramatic exchange of texts two summers past. “You just drink a lot of water before dinner and then keep me updated. But yours?” “Easy. Imagine this. It’s a Tuesday. Lunchtime. You get a text from me: ‘Last piss until tonight.’ Then not long later: ‘Just finished my water bottle. Going for a refill. Goal: finish it by the end of class.’ Two hours later: ‘Done. Shall I fill it up again?’” “Oooh. I’d say yes, of course.” “Then later you get another from me: ‘Study time! One sip for every page. 54 pages assigned tonight.’” “Mmmmmmmm.” “Then we meet for dinner online. You can see that I’m already locked down, but I pour myself a glass anyway. You can see that I’ve got to cross my legs. By this time you’re all hard.” “Yeah, I can believe that.” “And then I tell you, ‘You get to come when I pee. Not before. And you only get to touch yourself when I do.’ And then I’ll proceed to hold it for you, on camera, for another hour.” “Oh, yes. I like this.” “But it won’t just be holding. It’ll be posing. Legs crossing. Stripping. Teasing. Every now and then I’ll grab my crotch, and then—but only then—can you jack off.” “Yes, please.” “Then imagine,” she went on, gently running her fingertips over the bulge of his hard-on, “as I take the camera into the bathroom, and stand in the shower—naked, wriggling all over the place. Finally the only way I can hold it in is to hold myself. So of course you hold yourself too. But then I work up the strength and I take my hands away, so you have to stop…” “Mmmmmmmmmm.” “And since just telling you this story has gotten you all hot,” she said, still stroking the crotch of his shorts, “I think it’ll work great once I actually do it.” “Uh. Yes. Yes, yes, yes.” “Can’t do that every week,” she said. “But at least once a month.” “Uh. Wow. Suddenly I can’t wait for this.” “Oh, I think you can,” she purred. “After all, waiting for it right now means you get to be here with me.” “Very true.” “Can we switch positions? Your turn.” “Sure.” She leaned back against him—subtly grinding against his hard-on with her butt as she settled in—and took his hands in hers. She guided them over her body, leading them to rest on her crotch. “Help me hold it?” she asked, over her shoulder. “With pleasure.” “And pressure, please. Just a little.” With some verbal guidance from Meagan, he found the right spot and pressed against it with two fingers. He used his thumb to run over her clit, and she shivered. “That’s perfect,” she murmured, laying her hands on his thighs. “Keep going…” They stayed like that for a time, hidden from the world, not worrying about being seen, falling quiet, the sound of the river covering the small noises of fingers on fabric and pleasure in the back of her throat. He kissed her neck and hair, and sent his free hand wandering over all of her body that he could reach. He could feel the tension in her body growing, but he could also feel her total arousal—in the quickened rhythm of her breathing, in her erect nipples under shirt and bra, in the way she twitched at his touch and tightened her grip on his legs or arms. Every now and then she would take his hands in hers and hold him still for a bit, not letting herself get too close to climax—but keeping the pressure on her crotch. The returned pressure of her body against his kept him hard. They were so lost in each other that they didn’t even register the sound of thunder for a while. Then a louder roll made Meagan open her eyes. “Oh, wow, it’s getting dark.” “Dark? But it’s not that late.” “Well, we’ve been out here a while, but it’s got to be that storm. And if it’s already starting to get dark, we’d better head home quick.” Part of it was that they were in the river valley, and so in shade. But the sky was definitely getting dark overhead. Then the thunder rolled again, louder this time. They scrambled to their feet and headed back up the trail, rather more quickly than they had come—but it wasn’t long before Meagan paused, every muscle tensed up. “I think we would have had to leave soon anyway,” she said. “I’m really getting there.” And then she took another drink from her bottle. “I love you so much,” Parker said. "I know," she said. They hustled up the trail, not saying much. After about ten minutes, Meagan said quietly, “So lover? We’ve got a decision to make.” “Yeah?” “I think I’m gonna need to change the plan a little. All that water is ganging up on me. Plus the river.” “You can hold it.” “Oh, that’s not even a question,” she said. “Of course I can. But we were gonna fuck while I was still holding…” “I remember the term I used was ‘make love,’ but yeah.” “Well, I really wanna fuck.” “I can live with that.” “So I can hold it until we get home. It’ll be close, my bladder is filling fast now. But I know I can do it. What I don’t know is if I can fuck you when we get there. You might not fit.” “Gosh, you are tight.” “I’ve got to be, I’m desperate enough… oh. Oh. Yes, this feels so good, I forgot how much… please. Please. A little deeper, but be gentle or I’ll explode all over you.” “I wanted my first piss to be after we fucked but that’s just not gonna happen,” Meagan said, brining him back to the present. “So would you rather we fucked after? Or would you like me to let a little out first, and then still fuck while I’m desperate?” “Let a little out, then fuck. Absolutely.” "Thought you might say that,” she said. “So next question: do you want me to wait until we get back to the house, or do you want me to piss out here?” “I don’t suppose we could do it all out here? Sex included?” “No chance,” she said. “Not with that storm coming.” Thunder rolled—much closer now, and nicely on cue. “Yeah, that was a long shot. But yeah, out here would be great. I’ve got a place in mind, too: those old abandoned buildings.” “Perfect,” she said. “But just to make sure I’m still bursting when we get home…” She finished her water bottle in three big gulps. “And now let’s hustle before we get wet.” “From the storm or something else?” he teased. “Either one!” she said over her shoulder as she strode up the trail. It took them another ten minutes’ fast walk to get back to the abandoned buildings. It hadn’t started raining yet, but it seemed like it would any second. “Where?” Meagan asked, one hand resting on her waistband. “Inside?” “That’ll be more out of sight, yeah.” But when they went through the doorway through the old concrete wall, they found a ton of trash waiting for them. “Let’s not,” Meagan said. “I mean, yes it’s hidden, and dear god do I have to piss, but—this is not sexy.” “Agreed. Let’s try around back?” “Sure.” As they came out, however, they saw several other walkers hustling up the trail and had to wait for them to go by. Meagan clearly wanted to cross her legs or hold herself, but she stayed stock-still until the traffic passed. Then they ducked behind the building. There was still a little trash here, but more scrub bushes and last year’s fallen leaves to cover some of it. Lightning visibly flickered as they came around the corner; thunder rolled a moment later. “Pretty exposed,” Meagan said, top button undone, checking the sightlines. “But—I’ll just be quick.” A brief memory intruded: Lara at the observatory, leaning up against the wall. He shoved this aside and replaced it with the memory of Meagan pissing off of the pipe. Meagan leaned back against the concrete wall, unzipped her shorts the rest of the way, and slid them down her thighs. Then her red satin panties. She squatted and pissed—for just two seconds. To their amazement, it shot out ahead of her a couple feet: a jet of water that came and went almost too quick to be seen. “Aaaaggggh,” she said as she squeezed it off. “Better?” “Not… really. But let’s see.” She produced a tissue, dried herself off, then whipped her clothes back up and chucked the wipe aside. “I’ve never seen you piss like that before,” Parker said. “That distance.” “Must have been partly my position and partly me squeezing,” Meagan said, clenching every muscle to be sure of her control. “I never let go entirely. I was worried what would happen if I did.” “How you feeling now?” “The rest wants out. Pretty badly.” She held up a hand. “And I just felt a raindrop.” “Let’s hurry.” They walked fast up the hill, then made the turn onto the bridge. Halfway across, the rain hit. First it was a pattering of drops. Then a few more. Then a sudden burst. They could see it coming toward them for a second, and then they were caught in the downpour. “Let’s run!” Parker shouted. “Can’t! I’ll leak!” “In this rain, who’d notice?” “You would!” “Oh, right!” They didn’t run, but they walked even faster. There were only a couple seconds between the flash and the crash now. “Three blocks to go! How are you holding up?” Parker said in her ear as they passed the gas station. “This rain is not helping at all,” Meagan said. “I’m totally gonna burst.” “Let a little more out?” “I don’t want to ruin these panties.” “They’ve got to be soaked already.” “Yeah, but not with piss.” “We can throw ‘em in the wash as soon as we get home.” “Mmm… and I might not have a choice about letting a little out, actually… mmmmkay. Talked me into it.” She paused for another second. “Aaagghg. Squeezing it off is so dang hard,” she said, and started walking fast again. “Better?” “Just a touch.” They scurried the last block and at last made it under the shelter of Franklin’s porch and pillars. The house was still dark and silent when Parker unlocked the door. “We are gonna drip all over the carpet,” Meagan said. “This carpet’s terrible anyway.” “…Right. What am I saying?” He locked the door behind them. “I’m gonna go straight down to the washer,” Meagan said. “Can you run up and bring down our other laundry? Might as well get everything clean before tomorrow anyway. I’d do it,” she said with a grin and crossed legs, “but I might pop if I tried to run anywhere.” “Understood,” Parker said. His hard-on was chafing against his sodden clothes, but he hurried. It seemed Meagan had either taken a long time to get down the stairs, or she’d been stalling for him, because she was only just starting the washer as he came down with their combined laundry in a hamper. She stripped off her shirt as he got to the bottom step—and he nearly tripped. She turned her head and grinned at his sexiness-induced clumsiness, then undid her bra. He followed her example, stripping off his wet shirt, then his socks and shorts—and then his boxers, setting his erection free. “Whew,” he said. “Wet cotton on hard-on isn’t fun.” “That’s why I’m glad I was wearing satin,” she said, putting hands to her nipples—which were indeed quite hard. She squirmed a bit as she did so. He tipped the rest of the laundry into the machine as she took off her sandals and dropped her shorts and panties. She moaned a little and clutched herself a second later, then stepped out of the puddle (of both clothes and water) on the floor and picked up her panties for inspection—keeping her legs crossed as she did. “Can’t tell what’s piss and what’s rain,” she muttered, and threw them into the washer. “Hope they’re okay.” “If they’re ruined, I can get you more.” “Yeah, but they’re the ones I wore when I first got with you, y’know? They’re special. Aaah!” “Something wrong?” “Almost leaked.” He stepped closer. “Think I’d fit now?” “Mmm—not quite.” She glanced around. “Where can I let out a little more?” “Do you have to?” “Pretty sure. Relax, I’ll still be desperate for you. In more than one way. But I do want a little time with the vibrator before I take you in me, so we need to buy some minutes.” “You wanna pee down here?” “Sure, it’ll be fun.” She pointed to the floor drain. “There, d’you think?” “Might smell.” “True.” She reached into the washing machine, pulled out a shirt that was still pretty dry, and held it between her legs—again, just for a second. Then she crossed those legs, bending forward, leaning on the washer. Finally she regained control and straightened up. “Okay,” she said. “Now I think I can take you.” “Here?” he said. “Hah, we could.” She closed the washing machine lid. “This could be my vibe for today,” she said, patting the appliance. “Girls actually do that?” She grinned, leaning back against the washer on her elbows—legs still crossed, breasts thrust out. Her hair, black with wetness, clung to her shoulders. “I have, once or twice. But I don’t suppose you brought any lube, did you.” “Nope.” “Well, I’ve got some right here,” she said, tapping her groin. “Your piss?” “No, silly. Feel me.” She uncrossed her legs, and he reached between. She was indeed wet—and not from the rain. “But I don’t particularly want our last fuck in Franklin to be on top of the washing machine,” she said. “And people might come home any minute.” “Aren’t they all at parties all night?” “Yeah, and if any of those parties are outdoors…?” “Good point. Let’s get up to the room.—You know what I didn’t bring?” “Any dry clothes for us?” “Yup.” “We’ll just have to make a run for it,” she said, her eyes flashing. She stuck a hand between her legs and started up. He followed her closely, her butt and back at eye-level. Her naked hips had never been so sexy. When they reached the top of the basement steps, however, she pulled him into the big bathroom across the hallway instead of going further upstairs. She pressed herself to him, making sure he felt the flesh of her breasts against his body, and ran her fingers along his hard-on again. Here in the bathroom the rain seemed much louder. Thunder rolled again. “What are you—?” “Remember? This is where we first met,” she said. “Just wanted to point that out. Full circle. Here I am again, desperate to pee—here you are again, so very turned on…” “I wasn’t so turned on then.” “No, and I wasn’t so desperate. But aren’t you glad I had to pee that night?” “We might have met some other day…” “I know. We did meet some other day. But it was trying to figure out why we knew each other that brought us together. That’s the first time you ever made me laugh.” “Heh. Thank the God of Hedgehogs.” “We’re still on a mission from Hog,” she said, and kissed him. “Mmm.” “And,” she went on, “aren’t you glad that I have to pee right now?” “So glad.” “That I’m desperate?” “Mmmmmmm.” “Ready?” “So very, very ready.” She poked her head out of the bathroom, clutching herself again. “Coast’s clear,” she said. “Let’s go.” They ran, then: ran naked down the hall, and through the front room—in full view of the big windows, which were wide open—and up the stairs. They were laughing by the time they got to their room, laughing with the delight of being naughty and the relief of getting away with it. “Whew, that was hard,” she said, bending over for a moment. “Okay. Still under control for now.” She went to the window and opened it up. The rain was still coming down hard. She stood, naked except for her sandals, looking out at the storm. The flash of lightning flickered over her body, and a moment later the thunder rolled deep and loud. “Can’t hold it? The rain and that angle must be making it nearly impossible.” “I promised I won’t pee until you come. So I won’t.” He teased her a moment or two longer... She was shivering with the effort of holding now, but she knew what he was doing and didn’t beg. Until she did. “Hurry,” she whispered… He savored the memory a moment, then stepped up behind her, ran his hands down her body. She gave a little sigh of contentment—which turned into a small squeak of protest as he rested his hand on her bladder and gave the very slightest push. “Don’t do that unless you want me to flood the floor,” she said. “How about this instead?” he asked, sliding his fingers down to find her clit. “Yes, yes, yes…” He kissed her neck, her shoulder. “Do you want me to go down on you?” “I wish, but I don’t think I can keep my legs open that long. Fingers are good. But I really want my vibe.” He grabbed it from the bedside, stepped up behind her again. “On a low setting, please.” “God, don’t stop, but the rumbling is making it so dang hard to hold it...” The rumble of the vibrator was a quiet counterpoint to the thunder-rolls outside. They watched as cars drove by, practically leaving a wake; they watched as people scurried past, under hoods and umbrellas. Nobody looked up at their window; nobody saw them naked as he played the vibe around her clit; nobody saw them as her breathing picked up rapidly. He slid a finger into her outer lips. “You’re really wet,” he said, whispering in her ear. “Almost there,” she said. “Which is good, because I am bursting.” His erection somehow got even harder. After another few moments she laid a hand on his wrist. “That’s enough,” she said with a gasp. “If I’m gonna have you in me, I can’t wait any longer. And god do I want you in me.” “Here?” he asked. “At the window?” “Mmm, no.” She walked—staggered—over to the bed and bent over it. “From behind me?” “With pleasure.” He found the lube, slicked himself up, and— “Holy shit, I can’t get in, you’re so tight.” “That’s ‘cause you’re competing with all the pee I’ve held for you,” she said. “I’m gonna relax, just for a second. Ready?” “Ready.” He saw the tension in her muscles ease, and he quickly guided his erection into her. She gasped. “Aw, fuck,” she said—and clamped down on him, harder than he could remember. “Something wrong?” he said. “Yes and no,” she said. “I nearly pissed there. I may have leaked. But you feel amazing. And you haven’t even moved yet…” He began his stroke—gently, trying to get a feel for what she could take. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, this feels amazing, but oh my god do I gotta pee… be careful…” His pulse was hammering. He wanted to pump himself dry, he wanted to pound against the magnificence of her ass—but he went cautiously. “Holy shit, yes, yes, yes!” “Only one thing wrong,” he said. “Huh?” she gasped. “I wanna see you.” “My face, you mean?” she said, panting. “Yeah.” “I get it. I wanna see yours.” “Can we get on the bed…?” “Yeah.” “Without me pulling out?” “Don’t think so.” He pulled out, slowly—until her iron inner muscles popped him out the rest of the way. It sent shivers racing through him. “Grab a towel, please?” she said, squeezing her legs crossed. He ran and did so. She spread it on the bed. "You’ve gotta be on the bottom,” she said. “I can’t take your weight right now.” He jumped on the bed and lay back. She knelt beside him, cradling his erection in her hand. “Have you ever been this hard, I wonder?” “Not a lot.” “I love it. So much.” “You know why it’s so hard.” “I do.” She shivered. “Shit, I gotta pee so bad. But we both gotta come first.” She swung a leg over him. Stopped, grabbed her crotch. Shivered again. Tried to slide herself down onto him. "See?” he said. “Mmhmm. Okay.” She took a deep breath… relaxed a second… Piss spurted onto his chest, just a few drops—and she slid down his shaft, squeezing all the way. “That was close,” she gasped, shuddering with the effort. “Sorry I pissed on you." “Totally not a problem,” he said. She started to ride him. Still so tight. “Fuck. Aw, fuck,” she gasped. “I don’t know how much of this I can take… and I don’t want it to ever stop…” “Me too,” he whispered. She leaned forward, one hand on his chest, the other pressed hard against her crotch, trying to hold back one release while hurrying the other forward. She rode him harder. Her breath was coming faster and faster. “So amazing,” she said, panting. “It’s all so much… ahhh, god, I gotta—I gotta—I can’t—” “Can’t what?” “I’m so close…” “To what?” “I’m—” The lightning flashed, so bright it might have been across the street. In the light he saw her, bucking wildly, breasts bouncing, thighs pumping, her fingers desperately flickering over her clit or digging into his chest. Her hair was flying around her face, which was all bliss and all agony. He felt that tension mirrored in his own body. Never had he so desperately wanted to come in her. Pour himself into her, hold nothing back. Never had he so desperately wanted to wait longer. Prolong the magic. Keep the moment alive. “Love you…” he panted. “I—love—” Then she simply screamed into the thunder. The earthquake of her orgasm surrounded him. The rippling, roaring tide through her muscles somehow squeezed him tighter still. He came, came deep, came hugely, feeling like the fireworks feel as they are born and die. Her climax was still surrounding him, for she was still coming as he collapsed back onto the pillow. A moment later she collapsed onto him. As she hit him she screamed again (much less this time) and he felt her piss spurt all over his chest again. Not the flood—not yet. But it could only be another moment. She tried to say something, but couldn’t. She couldn’t manage words yet. He was shaky, overwhelmed, but he knew he could stand, and he wasn’t sure she could. He sat up, so she was sitting—still straddling him, still holding him, for somehow he was still hard. He swung his legs off the bed. She started to slide off—which would have severe consequences for his erection in a moment. He grabbed her by the butt and stood. She spurted again, and squeezed hard—with both her hand and her inner muscles. He slipped right out—but felt a second small wave of orgasm wash over him. His legs nearly buckled, climaxed-out as they were. He fell back onto the edge of the mattress. She landed on her feet, somehow. She buckled too. But with his arms around her, and his butt still on the bed, she didn’t fall. They stood swaying, leaning on each other, for a heartbeat or two. Then she spurted again. He could see her piss flowing out between her fingers. And she ran—staggered—for the bathroom. He ran after her. It was no longer spurts. It was just a slow, barely-controlled stream. It was running down her leg, leaving drops on the terrible carpet. She didn’t so much run into the bathroom as run into the doorframe and bounce off in the correct direction. The toilet was there—lid down. She ran straight past it. The shower curtain was partly closed. With her free hand she flung it all the way aside (the other was still trying and failing to dam the flood). She tried to run right into the tub, jumping over the rim. She didn’t make it—one foot cleared the rim and went into the tub, the other didn’t. If he hadn’t been right behind her, it could have been bad. He caught her as she tripped, managed to keep her from going right over. She twisted to her left and abruptly sat down, straddling the bathtub wall—and peed. It sprayed out between her fingers. It ricocheted off the tub wall and splattered upward, sideways, all over. Some went into the tub, some went on the floor. He didn’t know why he was doing it—an attempt to stem the tide, or steer it? or he just wanted to play with her gusher?—but he thrust his fingers down into the mix. Almost instinctively they found her clit. She screamed again, and a second orgasm tore through her. Unless it was simply a spasm of bliss at finally letting go. He knew enough to take his hand away quickly. She collapsed against him again. Taking her weight, he lowered himself to his knees beside the tub—kneeling right down into her puddle. One of her puddles. The thunder rolled again. A few seconds later, her stream finally tapered off. “Oh. My. Fucking. God.” “Yeah,” he agreed. “That was…” “Spectacular?” “Ridiculously fucking intense. I never want to do that again and I can’t wait to do it again…” “Maybe a little less messy next time, yeah.” “Not even that. I feel like I just died. And got resurrected. And then died again. And got resurrected again. As the Goddess of Piss Climaxes.” “I will worship you always.” She laughed, sleepily-blissfully-sexily-almost-hysterically. Cleanup took a little time. They washed themselves last, giving each other sponge baths in the bathroom, not wanting to shower in the thunderstorm raging around them. (They almost just went outside, naked as they were, to let the storm cleanse them. But it was too far to walk on their exhausted legs.) Then they laid down several towels to soak up the small pond the bathroom floor had become, and limped back into the bedroom, where they collapsed onto the bed, and made out fervently for what felt like an hour. “Thank you,” he finally said. “For everything. Absolutely everything.” “You’re welcome. And thank you. For being you.” “I think we got a happy ending,” he said. “No such thing,” she said. “Just happy middles. But sometimes…” “Sometimes you can string those middles together…” “…For a long, long time.”
  6. “Oh hell yes. Celebration sex for sure tonight. But actually I was thinking of something else…” “Hmm?” “Peeing. I’m glad we wrapped up this conversation because I’ve had to go for a while now.” “My benefit or yours?” “Mostly mine. But you can share it a little.” “Thanks.” She looked around. “Where are we?” “Um. Good question. I really haven’t been paying attention.” “Okay, we can figure this out. What’s the street a few houses down from us? 8th?” “Yeah, I think so.” “Well, if it’s going with numbers, then all we have to do is walk back that way until we hit 8th, and then go north.” “You’re sure it’s that way?” “Well, we’ll find out when the numbers get bigger or smaller.” It turned out Meagan was right, and they found 8th after a walk of a few blocks. But the name of the street they were on was totally unfamiliar, and neither was the name of the street after that. “Pearl Street? Never heard of it.” “We could be a long way from home.” “It can’t be that bad, we weren’t walking all that long.” “Yeah, but still…” The followed 8th two more unfamiliar blocks, and Meagan sighed. “You know what’s the worst?” “Hmm?” “Having to pee and having no idea how long it’ll take you to get to the bathroom. Are we five blocks out? Twenty? Who knows?” “I’m pretty sure if we’d gone twenty blocks we would have crossed the city limits.” “Really? Clearly I should have done more exploring. Or I wish Dacy were here. She’d know where we were.” “We know where we are, and we know how to get home. It’s really not that bad.” “Unless you’ve got to pee.” “You’re so good at this, hon. You’ll make it.” “Oh, I’ll make it. No doubt about that. I’m just not gonna enjoy it.” “Well, you could always go knock on a door and ask to use the bathroom.” “Oh heck no.” “You could hide behind a bush in someone’s yard.” “In this town, that seems like a great way to get shot.” Two blocks later: “Well, I’m still not gonna pop a squat in someone’s yard. But if we found a park with nice big bushes…” “You’re getting desperate pretty fast tonight.” “I did have a beer with dinner,” she said, “but mostly it’s the not knowing. If you told me I’d have to hold it for another hour exactly and no longer, I totally could. Well, probably could. But not knowing if it’ll be five minutes or five hours…” “No way is it five hours.” “Oh, of course, but my bladder doesn’t know that.” But two blocks later, they saw the headlights whizzing past on the main road up ahead of them, and after another few short blocks, they found their alley and turned up it. “Finally!” Meagan said as they crunched up the gravel of the driveway toward the back door. But it was locked, so they went around to the side door. “This one’s locked, too?” “Weird.” “Front door, then!” A moment later: “They’re all locked?” “I didn’t bring my keys.” “I didn’t either.” “I mean, I was just going out to sit on the swing for a bit. Wasn’t planning on going for a long walk.” “And I figured people would still be here when we got back.” Meagan looked back at the driveway. “They are still here. Or at least their cars are.” “Knock, I guess.” After several repeated knocks, they got no answer. “Fuck,” Meagan said. “This is really fuckin’ annoying.” “Go around the side, under the stairs?” “For what?—Oh, to pee? Nah, I don’t need to do that yet. I just need them to open the fucking door!” This last was a bit louder, and followed by hammering. “Wait—what was that?” “Huh?” “I thought I heard… giggling.” “Aw crap. We’re getting pranked, aren’t we.” “Pssst!” They turned. Trav and Mitchell were standing in the shadows at the corner of the house. Meagan and Parker walked over. “What’s going on?” Parker asked. “So Zeph decided it would be funny to lock you two out,” Trav said. “I didn’t like that,” Mitchell went on, “so I went to open the back door. But the other girls jumped me and pushed me out, and now they’re guarding all the doors.” “How’d you get out?” Parker asked Trav. “Window. I think Lucy closed it behind me. But I did manage to bring these.” He held up two squirt guns and a bag of water balloons. “What are those for?” “Revenge,” Trav said. “I’m so down,” Meagan said. “Hand me that soaker, I’m gonna get ‘em all good.” “We need more firepower,” Trav said. “Or hydropower, I guess. I didn’t manage to get all my guns, Lucy’s still got the big one.” They’d all seen “the big one.” It was essentially a giant red syringe that could be filled with water through a simple drawing mechanism, and forced back out with considerable speed and force. “Why do you have so many water guns, anyway?” Mitchell asked. “Emergency preparedness.” “You’re certainly prepared for this particular emergency,” Parker noted. “Exactly. But we still need more. I think Zach’s still inside. Start filling these up, I’ll go knock on his window.” He handed Mitchell the water balloons and headed back around the house. “Where’s the spigot?” Mitchell asked. “Here on the side,” Parker said. “Stay low, we don’t want them to see us,” Meagan said. All three squatted down by the spigot, and Mitchell turned on the tap to begin filling the balloons. Meagan winced and shifted from a squat to a kneel. Parker rubbed her shoulder gently and gave her a Doing okay? look. She shrugged and rolled her eyes: It is what it is. By the time they had twenty water balloons filled up, and Meagan’s squirt gun as well, she was definitely on full lockdown—but with a fierce, determined look in her eyes. But now they hit another snag. Trav came jogging back, and told them, “Zach’s not home yet. He should be back soon and we’ll have another on our side, but if they don’t let him in either…” “Yeah, they’ve definitely got the upper hand, being inside.” “How many keys have we got?” Trav asked. “We don’t have any,” Meagan said. “That’s why we’re in this mess to begin with.” “I’ve always got mine,” Mitchell said. “I think that’s the only one we’ve got, then,” Trav said. “We’d better look for some open windows—or try to draw them off one of the doors.” “And stay out of sight!” Meagan urged. “We should catch ‘em by surprise.” They circled the house, ducking under windows or dashing past them when hiding was impossible. After a quick circuit, they discovered that every door and window was closed to them. “Shiiit,” Trav said. “If we can’t get in… and we can’t make them come out…” “Wait!” Meagan said. “What?” “Hon, did you close our window upstairs?” “No, I didn’t.” “Those screens on our windows can be taken out,” Meagan told the other two, not going into any detail about how she’d discovered this. “Maybe we could get up on the porch roof and get in that way?” “Good idea,” Trav said. The porch roof was narrow but would surely hold one person, what with the strong plantation-style pillars holding it up. Trav eyed these, then wrapped his arms and legs around it and started scooting up. The problem was, this put him in full view of the front-room windows, so it was quite obvious what he was doing. And the pranksters inside were not about to let him punch a hole in their defenses like that. The front door swung open. Zephyr and Lucy came out shooting. Meagan, Parker, and Mitchell ran for cover, or to put some distance between them and Lucy’s huge water gun; Trav, however, grabbed the edge of the roof and pulled himself up and onto it. When Parker looked up a moment later, Trav was already climbing inside. Parker wondered he’d left anything embarrassing or incriminating lying around. But he had other things to worry about—particularly Lucy’s portable firehose, which was launching water way farther than Meagan’s squirt gun could. Meagan had gotten drenched already but hadn’t been able to reach Lucy at all. Zeph was spraying around with a smaller water pistol as well. Mitchell was trying to get close enough to hit them with a water balloon, but he couldn’t do that and dodge their spray. Nobody was watching Parker, however, and he had a balloon in each hand. He tried to slip up alongside. Zeph saw him coming and turned to spray him down, but he hurled one balloon just as she did. The resulting explosion left her shirt totally drenched. Parker got a piece of her water, too—but his second balloon burst at Lucy’s bare feet and made her jump back, distracted. Mitchell took the moment to plaster her with another balloon in turn. Meagan charged forward and sprayed both girls down with her gun. As Lucy fled back into the house, Zephyr tried to close the door—but Meagan kept right on spraying, not worrying about the water flying around past the TV, and Parker ran forward with another balloon he’d picked up from the stash. He caught a full blast from Lucy’s cannon right in the face, however, and he was blinded for a moment. Just then, Zeph shrieked as she got hit by water from an unexpected direction. Trav charged down the steps from upstairs and hit both girls from behind—paying particular attention to his girlfriend, naturally, but both Lucy and Zeph retreated. Lucy had apparently run out of water anyway, and Zephyr wasn’t about to try and hold the front room against all four of the attackers at once. Lucy ran down the hall and into the bathroom, probably trying to reload. Zephyr fell back into the kitchen, to do the same. Val came running up the back hall from where she’d been guarding the back door, only to run right into Trav, pursuing Lucy, with Mitchell lobbing a balloon in support. Meagan chased Zephyr into the kitchen, however, and Parker stuck with his girl. As he entered the kitchen, he saw Zephyr at the sink, dripping wet and doubled over, laughing uncontrollably. In between the laughs she gasped out, “Stop, stop, I’m gonna piss myself!” “So?” Meagan said. “I already pissed myself!” And she unloaded the last of her water onto the girl. Parker helpfully tossed in another water balloon. Zephyr shrieked again and fell over. With one hand she unleashed all the water in her gun at Meagan and Parker—most of it splashed at their feet. With the other she grabbed her crotch—catching Parker’s full attention. Which meant he was looking straight at the right spot, at the right moment, to see a stream burst out between Zeph’s fingers. It only lasted for a second, and in another moment the pee would have been totally indistinguishable from the massive puddle on the kitchen floor. And it only happened because her clothes were already soaked, so there was no other evidence. But Parker knew what he’d seen. The laughter finally trailed off. The housemates finally got themselves under control and assessed the damage. The front room carpet had several giant wet spots, but it was a thoroughly disgusting carpet anyway, and so the soaking might actually do it some good. The kitchen floor was a lake. Everyone involved was drenched, and everyone’s abs hurt from laughing so hard. High-fives were exchanged, broken water balloons were picked up, every dish towel in the house was laid down to soak up the lake on the kitchen, and then everyone straggled back to their respective rooms to change. “So Zephyr totally peed herself,” Parker said as he stripped off his shirt. “Did she?” “Yup. Right when she fell over. I saw it.” She rolled her eyes and shook her head. “Trust you to spot that.” “And, um… you said something, too…” She looked coy. “Did I?” “Guess I missed something. Or was that a joke?” “No joke,” she said, half-shrugging. Since she’d paused to answer his questions halfway through taking off her bra, after stripping off her sodden t-shirt, this was a fascinating gesture. “You really…?” “Yeah, when Lucy hit me with all that water all at once. Totally lost control for a second.” “Only a second?” “Well… and then again when Zeph got me in the kitchen…” She got her bra the rest of the way off. He started to harden. Since this meant his erection was trying to work its way through wet fabric, which chafed quite a bit, he hurriedly pulled his cock loose. “Hmmmmmmm,” Meagan said. “You liked that?” “Guess I did.” “Would you also be interested to know that I still gotta go? Didn’t let it all out, after all.” “Yes. Yes, I’m very interested.” “Well, in that case—watch this.” She spread her legs slightly, leaned forward slightly, and… let go. It was her usual explosion. Since her jeans were already entirely drenched, the piss went wherever it could. A lot of it gushed right through the wet fabric. Some of it ran down her legs. He could see the rivulet through the gaping hole in the knee, and was fascinated by the branching flow of the stream. It all ended up on the floor eventually, mingling with the water she’d already dripped. “I can’t believe you did that,” he whispered, awed. And hardening all the more. She shrugged. “I’d already started. Decided I might as well finish the job. Especially if this is the result,” she added, and ran her hand up the length of his shaft. She rested her palm on his tip, fingers spread wide. Their eyes locked. Then their lips. They broke apart at last for air. “So I should probably take a shower,” she whispered, hand behind his head, fingers twining through his hair. “Anything we should do before that?” “Yes. Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes…” ------------------------- Afterward— after she’d bent over the bed and looked over her shoulder to invite him in, after he’d filled her right back up again, after they’d showered together, hands lingering as they’d washed every inch of each other’s bodies— —they cuddled naked under the covers. The clothes and towels were all tucked away, the puddle on the floor was drying. They were taking turns kissing each other, light pecks all over each other’s faces and necks and shoulders. “You know what that was, right?” Meagan asked. “Hmm. What?” “Our first fuck of full commitment,” she said. “Heh. I like the sound of it.” “Wanna hear something better?” “Sure.” “It won’t be the last.” “Oh, that sounds so good. So incredibly good.” “Believe it, love. I got you, and I’m not letting go any time soon.” “Neither am I. Nev—not never. But definitely not letting go right now.” She grinned. “You’re learning.” Then she chuckled and added, “I’m learning. We’re learning.” “I like the sound of that, too.” “ ‘Learning’ ?” “ ‘We.’ ”
  7. Hello, all. This is the second-to-last of the Meagan and Parker stories. I've written so many by now, I'm not going to link any here. I've begun writing the finale; then after a little work on the file (and writing some "extras") I'll post the whole "Housemates" series -- "Season 3" -- and also bundle the entire Meagan-and-Parker Saga together. The first half of this particular story is almost entirely about the two of them and their relationship. If you're primarily here for the "good stuff," scroll down the second post. If you're like me and are rather invested in these two kids, the first part's for you. "Based on a true story" is a total cliche, and this one is so very loosely based on true tales that it barely qualifies. But I did get locked out once, and a water fight did ensue. No peeing was involved. ------------------------------------------------- There was a swing in the front yard of Franklin House, a standard ropes-and-knots-and-wooden-board affair. It hadn’t gotten a ton of use in the winter, but the days were warm now, very warm for April. The nights had still been chilly—until tonight, when the sun had been down for over an hour but the air still felt like it was shining. After the cold of winter, it felt like summer had come. And summer was indeed about to come: in three weeks finals would come, and in four, Meagan would graduate. After the thaw during Spring Break, they’d been better to each other. More time together, especially for meals. More sex—tender, cautious, this-relationship-is-made-out-of-fragile-glass-so-for-fuck’s-sake-be-careful sex, but still sex. More stress, too, for both of them, but they were dealing with it a little better. (Largely by having fragile-glass sex.) Less of Zephyr, thank god. No kink at all, though, for either of their quirks. No talking, either. Not about the future. Tonight—a Tuesday night, quiet and warm, nothing much up—Parker was sitting on the swing, not really swinging at all (it was hard to get it going) but enjoying the hint of summer in the air, and trying not to think about what was going to happen in four weeks. The screen door banged shut behind him, and footsteps crunched on the gravel, then went silent as whoever it was stepped onto the grass. Hands slid around his waist. “Hey,” he said. “Hey,” Meagan said. “Wanna go for a walk?” “Sure. It’s a lovely night.” She slid her arm through his. She didn’t do that often—a lot of times she preferred to walk without touching him at all, since she said he walked too slow for her. Tonight she was moving at a leisurely pace. It was warm enough for t-shirts but not shorts, apparently; she had a beat-up old college shirt on over her even more battered jeans and sneakers. Her knees poked through the holes. She had her hair down. They walked in silence for a few blocks, headed away from the main streets into a quiet neighborhood. The sidewalks were well-lit but the streets were lined with trees, and so the streetlights shone through the spring leaves and fresh blossoms, casting intricate shadows. After a couple of blocks, she said, “So I’ve been thinking.” “Mm?” “And I talked with Dr. Vince a bit, too.” “What about?” “Us. You and me, I mean.” Parker nodded. He felt like they were no longer handling that fragile glass with care but starting to juggle it. Still, it had to be done. “Parker?” “Yeah?” “What do you want?” “From you?” “From me, from the relationship…” He thought about it for a while—and then said the first thing that had come into his head. “I want you to show up.” “Couldja make that a little more vague for me?” she teased him, gently. “It’s a little too clear right now.” “For a while now, it seems like you’ve been so focused on the future that you’re forgetting the present. Forgetting us. I never want to stand in your way, I’ve said that a lot. And it’s true. But you’ve been putting so much time into yourself and your future and not really talking about it with me. I mean—it’s your future. I get that. But maybe it could be our future. And I feel like you’re just assuming it won’t be. That we can’t last. Or that you can’t get to that future if you slow down and show up for me.” She nodded. “Mmkay. What would showing up look like?” “Time,” he said promptly. “It’s been better since Spring Break. But earlier this semester you were all about working in the library until it closed down, then getting up and working out and getting to class early. And then essays on the weekends. I want… I want to talk to you again. Make fun of bad movies with you again. I want to cook with you, work out with you—” he glanced around at the empty front porches they were passing, then added in lower tones, “—And I want to make love to you. A lot.” She grinned. “What do you want?” he asked. “I want you to keep asking me that question,” she said promptly. “Thank you. I’ve got another question or two for you in a second, but I’ll answer yours now. I want…” She looked up at the tree they were passing under. It was in full bloom, and smelled marvelous. “Mmm. That’s a lovely scent. I want a lot. Mostly, as you know, I want to be well away from my past. I want to learn how to help people like me. But I want you there with me as I do. You’re my bedrock, love. I know I haven’t been showing it nearly enough. But I’d never have made it this far without you.” “I didn’t know that.” “Yeah. I should have said. I know I’ve been gone way too much. But every late night, as I was dragging my ass out of the library, all I wanted to do was curl up next to you. There was definitely a whole essay I got done on time just because I was promising myself, ‘Finish this up so you can go back to Parker.’ ” “Awww,” he said. “Mmmhmm. I know I can trust you, that’s so huge for me. I’ve taken a bit too much advantage of that—I haven’t showed up, like you’re saying. But, if you’ll allow me to make it a kind of twisted compliment, the only reason I did it was because I knew I could trust you absolutely.” “Heh. Thanks? I think?” “And all those things you said—I want all of that too. Plus road trips, real road trips. I want to go all over the country with you. See real mountains. Touch the ocean.” “ ‘Mountains, Gandalf!’ ” “Exactly. And I want you next to me every step of the way.” She dropped her voice a little as well. “And I wanna make love to you too. And I wanna fuck you until you explode. Just to be clear.” “Much appreciated.” “So. Next question: what do you need?” “Time,” he said again, just as immediately. “Time with you. And trust.” “You don’t trust me?” “I trust you to be honest with me, to be faithful to me, but I haven’t quite been able to trust that you’re gonna stay with me.” “So you want commitment.” “Yeah. That’s the word.” “Mmmkay.” “That and talking. We have not talked enough.” “So true.” “And fucking.” “Most definitely.” “Your turn.” “Yup. I need freedom. I need to be able to go where I want. I’ve been so scared of getting trapped that any kind of commitment scared me. When you started getting nervous about UCLA or University of Washington, I started wanting to go there even more. To get out of the trap. I mean,” she added hastily, “you are so not a trap. But that’s how I’ve been feeling for so long, you know? Long before I met you? My dad didn’t want me to go to college. My uncle didn’t want me to go to this college. My mom tried to sabotage me so I’d have to come home. So when you started making scared noises about the West Coast schools, I felt all that all over again: ‘He’s not letting me go.’ ” “Oh. Oh, shit. I am so sorry. I never meant that.” “Oh, of course! I knew that, even then. It’s just… well, the brain knows, but the heart feels, and the heart’s got more practice.” “That is… a darn good line. You see? This is why I want to spend the rest of my life talking with you.” She chuckled. “Thank you. I never said anything about it because I knew what you meant… but I still felt trapped. So that’s what I need: freedom. And you need commitment.” “Those don’t have to be opposites.” “Yeah! That’s exactly what Dr. Vince said… okay, let me back up.” She took a deep breath. “After Spring Break things have been better, yeah?” “Mmhmm.” “Well, for me too—or I thought so. Until something broke in class yesterday. I can’t even remember what it was. It was only barely connected to all this. But I just broke down. We’ve been tiptoeing around the issue, and I couldn’t face it any more. Couldn’t face going home to you and dancing around it. “And then everyone was looking at me funny because, well, Meagan doesn’t cry, she just doesn’t. So I just about ran out of the room when Dr. Vince asked me to wait. He dismissed the class early and sat me down and we talked and talked and talked.” “That’s why you missed lunch yesterday? You said you were talking to him, but…” “Yup. I wasn’t quite ready to talk to you about it all—I had to think about it first. He asked me what I wanted, and what I needed, and then he said something I’ve never heard before. He said, ‘There are really three factors in a relationship: what you need, what your partner needs, and what the relationship needs. What does your relationship with Parker need?’ ” “What did you say?” “Well, I think I said ‘Huh?’ ‘cause I didn’t get it at first, but then I started figuring it out. I’ve been treating it all as a ‘who wins’ thing. Do I get what I need, or do you get what you need? As if it couldn’t be both. But the relationship needs something else again.” “What does it need?” “Well, what do you think?” “I don’t even know where to start.” “That’s why I had to wait a day before I had this conversation. To figure it out. Here’s what I think: it needs commitment. But not the kind you’ve been asking for.” “Huh?” “Honey, when you talk about the future, you talk about forever. And that ain’t happening. One way or another, this’ll end. I hope it’ll be a long time from now, but this’ll end someday. We don’t know when. And when we try to push it past the time it should end, well—that’s when bad things happen. Especially if it ended because one of us is dead and the other one’s going full-on ‘Monkey’s Paw’.” Parker laughed. “Fair enough. But what kind of commitment do you mean, then?” “Well, one more thing before I get to that: when you talk about forever, that’s when I start to feel trapped again. Trapped in a nice place, but still trapped. So that’s part of the freedom I need: not talking about forever.” “Okay.” “The kind of commitment I do mean, though, is a lot like what you said earlier about showing up. Commitment as in being all-in. Like the old saying: for bacon and eggs, ‘The chicken was involved, but the pig was committed.’ I don’t know when we’ll be over, hon. But I’m through with half-assing this. Like I was already halfway out the door. Not when all I want to do at the end of the day is be next to you. “So yeah,” she continued, “a lot more time together. Dr. Vince recommended that we make some commitments about time. And keep our promises. But you gotta do something for the relationship too, hon.” “What?” “You have got to stop moping. When I got super-busy, you just… took it. And moped. You didn’t complain, you didn’t get mad, but I could tell you were upset. But you never said anything!” “I’m not sure that’s totally true…” “Yeah, probably. But we didn’t talk the way we needed to. So when I start to veer off, when you’re not getting enough, what the relationship needs from you is speaking up.” “Okay. I’ll try.” “ ‘Do or do not. There is no—’ ” “All right, all right! I’ll do it.” “Good.” She took a deep breath. “Last things. Biggest things.” “I’m listening.” “The last, biggest thing we need to do is compromise about the future.” “Okay…” “What you need to compromise on—no, wait. That’s not the right way to say it, it’ll just make you mad. Hang on…” “Hangin’.” They turned another corner at random and kept walking as Meagan thought. “’Kay. Let me try it this way. I’ve always said I didn’t want to make you follow me. But Dr. Vince pointed out that this is the time in people’s lives when people do that for each other, if they want to. So: would you follow me, if I asked you to? Even to the West Coast?” “Yes.” She sighed with relief. “’Kay. And I’m willing to stay closer if that’s what we need.” Now it was his turn to sigh. “I saw a couple of possibilities. One is that I go to Michigan. It’s a good school and it’s not that far away. You finish up here next spring and join me in Ann Arbor for my second year. Then, if we’re still good—we go wherever.” “Mmkay. What’s the other?” “I could go to UCLA. It would be a lot harder to see each other that way. Different time zone. And we’d have to fly to visit each other. But then the year after, you could come and join me—and you’d be in Hollywood. Best city in the world for videographers.” “Oh. Oh, wow.” “There might be other possibilities but that’s what I’ve got.” “When do you need to decide?” “Not until after graduation.” “All right. Let me think it over.” “Of course. But that’s for the future. Can we make some commitments for the next four weeks?” “Yes, please. What did you have in mind?” “Time, for one. Can we promise each other our Saturdays? No school work, just us time?” “Yeah, that sounds good. But can we extend it to include Friday night?” “Oh, definitely. After class on Friday to Sunday at dawn: nothing in the way. Just you and me, love.” “Sounds good.” “Dr. Vince says we should work out some routines. Maybe read to each other. Or movie-watching. And sex. He blushed a bit when he said it—I love him so much—but he recommended we make a special time for sex and stick to it.” “That sounds… um.” “Yeah, I didn’t like it either, until he pointed out that we don’t have to only have sex during that time. We can still be all spontaneous other times. But he really recommend that we have a set time for it so we don’t miss it and so there’s nothing in the way of it.” “Mmmkay. I think I can see it.” “Saturday again?” “For now, yeah.” “Anything else you think we need?” “Food. Can we just make Saturday be date night in general? Make dinner, then make love?” “Totally.” “I’m worried about how we’re gonna handle it when we’re long-distance…” “We’ll work it out. It’ll have to be kind of different, but we’ll make the same commitments about time and so on. You good?” “Yeah, that’s all for me now.” She squeezed his arm. “Oh my god. We did it.” “Hmm?” “We totally had a serious adult relationship talk and it all made sense and we’re gonna seriously do it.” “Heh. I guess we did. And we will.” She stopped him, reached up for him, kissed him. And again. “I think we’re gonna be okay, lover,” she whispered. “Yeah. If we can stick to this…” “And stick together…” “Yeah. Oh, this feels so darn good.” “Y’know what else will feel darn good?” “Fuckin’?” “Oh hell yes. Celebration sex for sure tonight. But actually I was thinking of something else…”
  8. Weasel

    Housemates: The Pile-Up

    Thanks, y'all, so much. For those who say that I should write elsewhere, that's actually been my dream for most of my life. But I'm extremely glad to hear real-live people (assuming you're not all extremely polite bots) say that they'd read my work! Getting back to writing non-fetish fiction is one of my reasons for bowing out; most of my writing for the past year and a half has been for here, and it's kept me from working on other projects. It's been a fantastic experience, and I think it's taught me a lot about writing characters, but I do have other tales to tell. I'd rather not talk about them here, as I'm trying to make sure there's no link between these tales and my other stuff, just to avoid any scandal. (Although there is a long history of great artists being kinda pervy...) Still thinking about the last two stories for M&P. Ironically, I am now hung up on an entirely non-omo section that requires a lot of mapping out! But I've started planning the finale... and I hope I'll do you all proud. Stay tuned. Forgot to add: this is the highest praise of all!
  9. Kudos for coming out with it. While this issue may be causing some tension, I can guarantee that it's better to have it out on the table and in the open than chewing away on the back of your mind. I've had three partners and told each one of them about my desperation fetish. It's worked out pretty well, and so here's my advice. 1) TAKE IT SLOW. Let the subject settle for a while. If you keep circling back, you may amp up the anxiety level in both of you. Go out, do fun things, and (perhaps most importantly of all!) have good sex with no kinky content. Repeatedly. This reassures both of you that you can have a sexual relationship without it. 2) Honor her refusal and expect nothing. 3) That said, there might be a few alternatives that you and she may not have considered. Easiest of all (and something all three of my exes volunteered to do for me): ask her to tell you a story from earlier in her life when she got desperate or wet herself. (Keep it in her teens and after, though. No need for her to think you've got a pedophile side, too.) Almost everybody's got such a story. If she's got one and is willing to share it, that gives you a little kinky content that's specific to her, but she doesn't actually have to do anything aside from tell you a story that's probably more funny than embarrassing by now. If you're like me, you'll probably respond very intensely. (Funny thing: the first time this happened to me, I responded very intensely in a non-sexual way. I was in pure "fight to defend my beloved" mode. If that happens to you, then you can honestly say that you probably wouldn't be turned on by this situation if it came up. That would be very reassuring for her, I think.) The third time this happened (second time I actually stopped her mid-story), I responded very well, very sexually, and my partner loved how turned on I was. It's totally possible for someone to do something for their lover and enjoy it just because the lover is enjoying it. There are a few other small steps you could take. Watch her peeing absolutely normally, in your bathroom, for instance. That gives your imagination something to play around with, and it's something she was going to do anyway! Or if you're outdoorsy at all, watch her pop a squat in the woods. If she's willing to try out some of these baby steps, see how she reacts. If she's like, "Okay, I did that for you, glad it's over" then don't push it and savor the memories. If she responds more along the lines of, "Okay, that wasn't too bad, and I like the effect it had on you!", then go slow and see if she's willing to do a bit more. Remember that a full-ish bladder can make sex feel quite nice for women, because it puts pressure on the clitoris from the other side. That might be a good selling point!
  10. I'm not actually a wetting fan -- mostly desperation for me. So this isn't just my favorite scenario, it's practically my only one!
  11. Weasel

    Housemates: The Pile-Up

    Well, folks, thank you for the kind words. A few personal responses: @rebeljaffa: Coming to terms with this kink is one of the main themes of this story arc. I'm at peace with mine... I'm just bored. Don't feel like you're "turning bad" when you embrace this thing we share... unless, of course, "turning bad" for you is pretty good! @jippy: see below.... @corsa198: I think you might be pleased with the next story. (Not the one posted below, the one I haven't finished writing yet.) @AliasnameTO: A miniseries? Whoa, that would be intense! Casting recommendations, anyone...? Glad I found your kryptonite, though I confess she's a recent arrival in the series. Going by the feedback, I feel I shall be pleasing some and disappointing others with the tales yet to come. But what I've written feels truest to the characters, and that has always come first with me. What follows is called "The Play-Out." Ordinarily I'd post this separately, but it's really so dependent on "The Pile-Up", and rather less kinky than some, that I feel it doesn't quite deserve its own thread. ----------------------------------------------------------------- “How do you do it?” Zephyr asks. Meagan shrugs. “I’ve been able to hold it a long time since I was a kid,” she says. “I think I got used to putting it off because other things were more interesting… I remember a teacher telling me to go pee a few times. Last time was in seventh grade. That was embarrassing enough that I just ignored her and held it until the end of class.” She grins. “I’m stubborn, too, that helps.” Zephyr laughs, then winces and crosses her legs. “Plus I’ve been getting a lot of practice lately,” Meagan adds. They both look at Parker. He looks back at them. It’s quite the sight. Zephyr is topless once again, just in shorts: specifically, cutoff jeans, short enough that the pockets show—and so do most of her legs. Meagan’s still wearing a t-shirt and jeans, but with no bra. “Ohhhh, I have to go,” Zeph says. Meagan steps closer, folds her into a gentle hug. “Sounds like you need some practice yourself.” Zephyr turns in her arms, kisses— Parker’s brain shied away from the image. This is so weird. I’ll bet all my other guy friends would be so jealous. A threesome? Two hot girls making out on my bed? With all my pee-desperation fantasies coming true? But I can’t even imagine it. Don’t want to imagine it. Well… that’s not entirely true… “Sounds like you need some practice yourself,” Meagan says. “I do, I really do…” Zeph agrees. “Okay then! This whole week is gonna be all about that. I’m gonna work your bladder like it’s never been worked before. I’ll give you a couple of days off, but today isn’t one of them. You gotta go?” “Real bad.” “Hold it. Hold it until… oh, let’s say 3.” “That’s almost two whole hours!” “Mmmhmm.” “I’ll never make it!” “You’ll never make it if you think about it that way. But think about it this way instead: the longer you hold it, the sooner I’ll make you come. If you can’t hold it at all… well, maybe I won’t let you come at all, too!” Zephyr whimpers. Meagan, still cuddling her, stands on tiptoe to kiss her— I can’t do it. Besides, Zeph’s not in it for the pee stuff so much, really… so maybe if I try…? Zephyr kneels on the bed in front of Meagan. She reaches for the hem of Meagan’s shirt. “May I?” Meagan lifts her arms over her head and lets Zeph pull her shirt off, slowly. The roundness of her breasts emerge bit by bit, nipples hard with arousal. It’s a delightful contrast, seeing them both topless. Parker can’t help but stroke himself. “Mmmm, you like that?” Meagan asks him. “How about this?” She runs her hands up Zeph’s body, then leans closer for a k— Gaah! Maybe stick with desperation after all? Zephyr wriggling frantic “I can’t hold it any more, I gotta, I gotta go…” Meagan stern taskmaster but also crossed legs “You can hold it as long as I can. Do it! Don’t touch that fly, you leave your jean shorts on! Hold it or piss yourself…” Zeph dancing crying “It’s coming out” “Hold it” “I can’t...” “No.” Meagan raised her eyebrows. “No? “No.” “Just like that? I’m honestly a little surprised.” Parker sighed. “So am I. But I can’t. I just can’t.” “Can’t do what?” “Share you.” “You’re sure? You’re not just saying no for my sake? Because I can get over the jealousy. I really should get over it, now’s as good a time as any.” She ran a finger trailing down his arm. “And she could be my birthday present to you, y’know…” “No!” He jerked back. She snatched her hands back too, palms out. “Sorry! Did I hit a nerve?” “Yeah.” He sighed. “I appreciate your offer, I really do. I appreciate the guts of trying to face down your jealousy for me. But… I’m not worried about bad sex, hon. I’m worried that—” Spit it out. “I’m worried that I’m losing you.” “Yeah.” “And having Zephyr involved at all… well… all I want for my birthday is you, Meagan. I want you.” She nodded, slowly. There was a strange look on her face. “’Kay. I get it. I know this is supposed to be every guy’s dream. Especially since it’s tailored right for you. But I can see why you don’t want it. It could push us further apart.” “I just want it back the way it was before.” “Before…?” “Before you were all about grad school.” “I’ve always been all about that, hon, I’ve just been more obvious about it lately. You know why.” “Yeah. Your future. But what about our future?” He sighed. “I just feel like—like you’ve been taking me for granted.” “I’ve been trying not to,” she said quietly. “I’ve been trying to imagine going through the next few years without you. Trying to imagine what that would feel like. Because I know I haven’t been doing right by you lately. I’m sorry.” “I don’t want you to be sorry, hon. I want you to do what’s right by yourself. But I wanna be there with you when you do.” “I’ve been trying to imagine what that would look like, too.” “What have you come up with?” “Imagining grad school without you feels… awful. But imagining grad school at all feels awful for you. I’ll be so busy. We’ll be long-distance again…” “I can take it!” he said, voice cracking a little. “I know you’ll try,” she said, gently. Sadly. They hugged each other a long time. “Well, I’m glad of one thing,” she said finally. “Hm?” “We needed this talk.” “Yeah.” She kissed him. “Okay. No matter what, we have this week. Let’s enjoy it, like Christmas.” “Mmmkay.” “Spring break’s officially started. Whaddya want to do?” She leaned forward a little. “I do feel like some make-up sex is called for.” “Is it really make-up sex? We haven’t really been fighting.” “Making-up-for-lost-time sex, then. Stay-together sex.” “I just wanna hold you.” “’Kay. But at some point can we move to me holding you in my puss? Or me holding my piss for you? ‘Cause—well—I’m feelin’ the need. For you, I mean, not peeing. I wants ya, boy.” “That’s really good to hear. Compromise: can we just make out for a while? I might feel more in the mood after that…” “Totally.” --------------------------- Meagan broke the news to Zeph. “She took it okay,” Meagan reported back. “She’s sad and lonely but she understands that we’ve gotta do what we need to do.” “Thanks, love.” “Of course.” The next conversation they had with Zephyr was a little awkward—“I’ll do whatever you need me to do! Play my music real loud when you have sex! Or I could leave. Would that help?”—but there was no avoiding it. It was just the three of them in Franklin House over the break, rattling around in the big empty house. And Zephyr was, as Meagan had said, lonely. She tried to give them space but naturally the three of them wound up hanging out a lot. Although no one had mentioned it, Zephyr also discreetly started wearing shirts more regularly—and even bras. Parker could no longer see her nipples poking through her thin t-shirts, and wondered if he was glad of that or not. Or if it even mattered. Had she just moved the element of distraction? He found himself fascinated by her bra straps, which peeked through clearly. But while Zeph was clearly trying to be good and supportive on one level, Parker had to wonder if her heart was totally in it. Her clothes and her words sent one message, but her body language sent another. At first glance she was simply sprawled on a couch—but her legs were open. At first glance she was simply perched on the arm of that couch—but she was subtly humping it. At first glance she was just standing up to stretch—but her breasts were front and center when she did. And all her lithe limbs were on display. And one thing Zeph couldn’t change was the size of her bladder. And while she was not nearly so blatant about advertising the fact that she needed to pee, it still showed here and there. She would clearly be a little anxious to get away, but also anxious to continue a conversation, and she’d be wriggling a little before she finally dashed off. “She may not realize she’s doing it,” Meagan said, when Parker raised the issue. “As far as I can tell, Zephyr doesn’t have a whole lot of levels. What you see is what you get. So I doubt she’s playing it up to get us to change our minds.” “I dunno about that. In class she’s really different. Much more serious, less silly and bouncy. I think her bounciness is an act. It gets a lot of attention. I should know.” “Or her seriousness in class is the act.” “Or she’s overcompensating for her shyness…” Meagan shrugged. “She might be flirting with us with her body, or she might not be. I think she probably is, whether she knows it or not. But until she says something different from what she said when she and I talked, I’ll take her at her word. And you should too.” This was more easily said than done. Parker still had daydreams, mostly against his will, of the three of them in bed— Zephyr half-holding, half-masturbating her pussy, her eyes totally panicked and totally aroused as she tried to make out with Meagan and keep it all in —but even when he managed to envision it without his mind rebelling, he still felt more scared than horny. Meagan was feeling horny, too, but she was being very patient with him, not pushing. He felt better lying in her arms, kissing her. But whenever she moved to touch him, he felt not fully there. He’d repeated his offer to go down on her so she could get off, but she’d shaken her head. “Some of this is about what’s goin’ on down here,” she’d said, pointing to her crotch, “but mostly it’s about what’s goin’ on up here,” pointing to his head. “I can wait. No pressure at all.” It was late Monday night and they were watching a movie on TV. It was one Parker had seen before and kind of liked—Last of the Mohicans, with a young and hunky Daniel Day-Lewis—so even though the’d missed the first fifteen minutes or so, he’d gotten the girls up to speed as best he could remember the plot and they’d all settled down to watch. Zephyr was sharing the couch with them. And somehow she’d gotten her legs across Meagan’s lap. Parker was idly speculating—as he often did, considering his kink—on when or how the characters in the movie would pee. It being a period piece, the two young sisters who were central characters were always wearing period dresses. This was of course a bit inappropriate for the wilderness they were being dragged through by various men, but the dresses might have their advantages. Did they wear underpants in the 18th century? Or could the two just spread their legs apart and pee straight down? Of course, they’d probably never done that. They probably didn’t know how. Parker spent a pleasant moment spinning out a fantasy about the young blonde sister—the one who never really seemed to know what was going on—and her first time having to pee in the woods. Would she have tried to hold it in until they found a better place? Would she have ever admitted to the men guarding her that she needed to piss—to “relieve herself”, or “powder her nose,” or whatever the proper language was? Her older sister seemed much more on top of things; no doubt she’d just gone behind a bush, hiked up her dress, and gotten the job done. That was fun to think about too… For a moment the girls in the movie blurred with the girls on the couch. Zephyr would be the shy blonde sister, of course. Meagan would be the practical, just-get-it-done brunette… Zephyr’s toes were right in front of him. Her nails were painted a light blue. Without thinking about it, he reached out and rubbed her big toe between his thumb and forefinger, then rested his hand on her ankle. During the battle scenes Zephyr gasped and covered her eyes, and Meagan reassuringly patted her knee. And then, as Daniel Day-Lewis and Madeline Stowe made out under the most romantic/erotic fiddle music ever played, Zephyr reached down and covered Meagan’s hand with her own. A shiver ran through Meagan’s body. Parker leaned forward a bit to see what was going on. Zephyr swung her legs gracefully off Meagan’s lap and tucked them underneath her. This meant she was leaning forward, very close to Meagan. Her lips parted, just a little. She did not sit back. Meagan threw a look at Parker, who was looking at Zephyr, who was looking at Meagan— All I gotta do is say yes. No. All I gotta do is nod. The music faded, the on-screen lovers broke apart. Meagan’s eyes went back to the screen. Parker sat back. So did Zephyr. The movie went on, working its way to its sweeping, hear-wrenching, beautiful conclusion. The surviving characters looked out over the Great Smoky Mountains, the final theme swelled. Zephyr stood up and trotted off to the bathroom. Meagan and Parker looked at each other, the emotions of the movie coursing through them. Meagan leaned in to kiss him. They made out until the bathroom door opened and Meagan smoothly drew back for a moment. Zeph rushed past them and trotted up the stairs. Once she heard Zeph’s door closed, Meagan took Parker by the hand and led him upstairs too. She stripped the shirts off both of them once they were in their room. She took his hands and held them to her breasts. He could feel her nipples stiffening and her heartbeat pounding. He bent to kiss her; she responded ardently. He worked his way down her body, kissing neck and shoulders and breasts and belly and hips, until he was kneeling at her feet and tenderly stroking her clit through the cotton of her panties. She took this for a minute, then hauled him up and sat him down on the bed. She climbed astride him, being sure her breasts fit snug against his body, kissing his forehead, his hair, his cheek, forcing her tongue between his lips, grinding her crotch against the bulge in his. He almost didn’t hear it through the blood hammering in his ears (and the music swelling in his mind). But then Meagan left off her kissing and cocked her head to listen, too. Faintly they could hear Zephyr’s voice, crying out—well, what, exactly? “Is she crying?” he asked softly. “Sounds like moaning to me,” Meagan said. “You mean—?” “The girl’s got a good vibe.” “Still sounds like crying to me.” “Might be both.” Then, after a few moments more, it became fairly clear that it was indeed both. Zeph’s moans were unmistakeably orgasmic—and were followed, a few moments later, by gut-wrenching sobs. “Poor kid,” Meagan said. “Yeah.” It hung in the air between them again: All I/he’s gotta to do is say yes… He didn’t. After a while they lay down. Meagan put her head on his chest. “Sorry, love,” he said softly, stroking her hair. “Hmm?” “I wish I could.” “Could what?” “You tell me.” “Invite her over? Or get it up for me?” “Yeah, one of those.” “It’s okay that you can’t. Either of them.” “Just such a role reversal.” “Same fuckin’ role. I’ve been stressed about school for months and I didn’t wanna fuck. Now you’re stressed about school—still my school—and you don’t wanna.” “It’s not that I don’t want to—” She laid a finger on his lips. “Shh. You don’t need to explain. I love you. Whenver you’re ready, I’ll be there.” For now, he almost said. “I gotta pee, though,” she said. “Do you want me to wait?” “Nah, you can go ahead.” She jumped off the bed and pulled the old jar out from under. Empty and cleaned out—she hadn’t used it for months and months. She used it now, unscrewing the top, holding it to her crotch. He watched and listened with interest as she pissed out her usual big burst. She dried off with a tissue and came back to bed. He tried, then. Tried it for her, holding memories in his mind. But other memories intruded, and she eventually stopped stroking a softening cock and kissed him instead. “I’ll still be here,” she whispered. ----------------------------------------- Parker woke up to the sound of distant thunder and nearby rain. Meagan wasn’t next to him. He rolled over. In the quarter-light he saw her at the window. He got up and went to stand beside her. The sky was a deep gray; dawn hadn’t happened yet, and the storm was distant enough that the lightning gave no light. Meagan had the window up, leaning on the sill, nothing but the screen between them and the rain. The drips and trickles of the drains mingled with the patter of freshly fallen drops, the grumble of the thunder lying underneath it like a lazy bass line. The air was cool, but felt fresh, rain-rinsed. Despite the temperature, Meagan was wearing exactly what she’d worn to bed: just her shorts. Parker ran his fingers through her hair and down her back, arched as she leaned by the screen. She shivered a little at his touch, her eyes going half-lidded and her chin coming up as she stretched with pleasure. “Can’t sleep?” Parker whispered. “I woke up early,” she answered, just as quietly, “but then it started raining, and I decided I wanted to enjoy it.” “It sounds really lovely.” “Mmhmmm.” She straightened up, stretching, hair falling haphazard around her shoulders. She turned to him, pulled him closer, but rather than kissing him, she just looked, gazing into him, running a finger down his cheek. Then she wrapped her arms around him and laid her head against his shoulder, face to the rain. He returned the embrace, savoring the seconds, their bare skin, her breathing, the tickle of her hair—on his shoulders this time—and the sound of the rain surrounding them. She looked at him again. “You know what I want?” she asked. “Mmm?” “I wanna go outside.” “We’ll get soaked.” “That’s the idea. I wanna feel the rain on my face.” He kissed her. “Okay.” She went to her frisbee gear first. “Wear your jersey,” she murmured. “Designed for this.” She pulled on her own, not bothering with a bra, then slipped on her flip-flops. He followed her lead. They tiptoed down the stairs, opened the door carefully and shut it behind them as quietly as possible, down the front steps between the pillars, and stepped out into the rain. Meagan took several long steps farther than he did, out onto the lawn next to the swing. She turned her face up, eyes closed, and stretched out her arms wide, letting the rain fall on every inch of her. Parker watched as her nipples hardened visibly under her thin blue jersey, the wet fabric outlining her breasts perfectly. After a minute she turned back to him, and this time her outstretched hand was clearly waiting for his. He stepped forward and took it. “Let’s walk,” she said, and led the way into the gray dawn. He shivered—from the cold? From the moment?—and followed. It was a strange walk, a soft silence between them, nothing but the rain in their ears. He looked at her often as she ambled along, following where she led, holding her hand tight. His eyes drank in every curve of her body, perfectly outlined, and the drape of her increasingly-wet hair. She kept looking ahead, or up to the sky. She took him east, along the highway, and then turned south on College Avenue. It was, of course, ridiculously easy to get across the big road at this time of morning—they heard a single car go by behind them as they reached the far side. Meagan took them down the tree-lined street, past the dark windows of the college houses—empty over the break—to where the houses started to fall away to vacant lots, and beyond it the farmland. Here she stopped them and turned to face the storm. It was coming out of the west. They saw lightning flicker far away, and thunder growling a good ten seconds later. It was lighter now, the sun coming up behind them, but hidden behind a stone-gray sky. Meagan watched the storm come on for several silent minutes. Then she pulled Parker close and kissed him, a long kiss, holding his face gently between her hands, and after they broke for a moment to catch their breath, she kissed him again, longer still. After they broke a second time, it was his turn to kiss her. “I love you,” Meagan said, softly. Lightning flashed over her shoulder a second later. “And I love you,” Parker replied. “So much.” One more kiss. And some shivering. Then she said, “Let’s go home.” They went back through the quiet campus, past the brick of dorm and classroom, over the empty fields in front of the college, across an only-marginally-busier road, down the sidewalk, back up the steps and into the house. The moment they stepped inside, the fact that they were soaked to the skin fell on them. It made sense to be drenched outside, and they’d endured the cold without complaint. But being so soaked felt bizarre once they were back indoors, and they shivered violently. They ditched their flip-flops on the tile at the bottom of the steps, jogged upstairs as quietly as they could, and as soon as the door was closed behind them, they stripped off everything they had on and started toweling each other off. “Okay, now I’m cold,” Meagan whispered, hopped back into bed, and pulled him in beside her. Parker cuddled every inch of her naked body, big-spooning, hands cupping her belly and one breast, and felt no shame when he stiffened at the memory of her standing all but naked in the rain. Of course she felt it. She turned her head and whispered, “You wanna make love?” “Yes.” “Warm me up.” Twenty minutes later she was warm indeed, riding him slowly, hair still wet and clinging to her shoulders, watching him with green eyes that shifted from desire to love to fear and back again, all in the space of an indrawn breath.
  12. Hello, everybody. A heads-up for first-time readers: if you're a desperation or waiting-in-line fan, you'll probably appreciate the bulk of this story even without any context, but toward the end there will be a lot of character development and references to prior stories. To fully appreciate all the character moments in here, you'll need to go all the way back to "Season 1" of the Meagan & Parker Saga. PM me if you're interested in getting the downloads of Seasons 1 and 2. If you'd rather skip to the fun stuff, scroll down until you see this: ----------------------------- And now, for all my readers, I have an ANNOUNCEMENT: I am retiring from writing these stories. Relax: you'll have a few more tales from me before I go. I'll finish Parker's plotline. But after that, I'm going to step away for a long time. Probably not forever... but it's a possibility. When I first decided to write "Season 3" and create a setting for Meagan and Parker in a college house, rather than a dorm, this story, "The Pile-Up," was the one I really wanted to tell. A true classic waiting-in-line story in which everybody needs to use the bathroom all at once. As I worked my way through the season, this was the goal. Maximum desperation, maximum college-girl hotness. But as I wrote, I got more and more into the story of Meagan and Parker's relationship. And by the time I got around to writing "The Pile-Up," I realized that I was actually much more excited about writing their relationship than writing the desperation. And when I did work out a rough draft, I caught myself thinking, Darn it, I really need to add more desperation -- as if it had become a chore, something that needed to be done in order to tell the story of a struggling romance. I also find I am somewhat less interested in my kink in general these days. It doesn't turn me on the way it used to. I guess I'm a bit bored with it. I think I need to find some fresh angle, or just to give myself some time. But that doesn't mean I don't have mixed feelings. I'm particularly sad that I might be letting down my fans. The appreciation I've gotten here has spurred me on to finish the tale. "I can't quit now," I kept telling myself. "I don't want to disappoint people." So for all my readers, a heartfelt thank-you. For that reason, and for others, I don't want to abandon this part of me. But I think I need to step back a while, so I can appreciate it again, and before I burn out on storytelling. So what's next? What you're about to read is "The Pile-Up." In a few days I'll post the next story, "The Play-Out," here in the same thread. They really belong together. After that, there will be two more stories, which I will post separately. At some point I will write a few bonus stories and compile Season 3 together, as I did with 1 and 2. And that will be the end of Meagan and Parker... but of course they will always be there for you in the stories I've already told. Again, thank you for reading. ---------------------------------------------- It was a quiet evening in Franklin House—the Thursday before Spring Break, not long after Meagan’s grad-school celebration. Parker was nearly alone in the house; Lucy and Trav were off somewhere, Zephyr had asked for a girl’s night with Meagan and Dacy at a party on the other side of campus, Cara was at work, Zach was at the gym, and Val and Miranda had gone to a concert. Mitchell was in his room working on something, and Parker was at loose ends. It was raining—and pretty hard, too. Meagan had taken the girls in her car, so leaving the house wasn’t appealing. Trav sometimes let people play on the Xbox when he and Lucy were gone, but he hadn’t said anything about it this time and Parker didn’t feel like barging in without permission. Since Spring Break was right around the corner, he felt no burning need to get any schoolwork done. He was thinking about turning on the TV to see if there was anything good on—which was a sure sign that he was running out of ideas for entertainment—but then a good track came up on shuffle on his iTunes and he decided he’d just play the rest of the album, which he hadn’t heard in a while. He lay down on the bed and listened. A door slammed downstairs. From the muffled swearing, it sounded like Zach had come home from the gym, and was probably totally soaked—and cold, too. A few minutes later, water began running somewhere. Probably he’d jumped in the shower. Perhaps this prompted Mitchell to get up and take his shower. At any rate, he strode down the hall, clad in only a towel with his toiletries bag in one hand, and stepped into the nearer bathroom. Not long later, he began singing. At least he had a decent voice. Gravel crunched in the driveway beside the house. It sounded like Cara’s car—but when the door opened, the first voice he heard was Miranda’s. Then more gravel crunched: definitely Meagan’s car this time. “Everyone’s home at once,” Parker said, poking his head out. “Seems like,” Miranda said, pushing past him quickly. “Excuse me…” She quickly went into the farther bathroom and closed the door. Val followed her roommate up the steps. “Hey, Parker,” she said. When confronted by both bathroom doors closed, she turned around and started heading back down—only to meet Cara coming up, still in her work clothes. “Can I use one of you guys’ bathrooms?” she said. “The one downstairs is locked.” “Miranda’s in one—and going by the singing, Mitchell’s in the other,” Val said. “Well, I hope they won’t take too long,” Cara said. “Me too!” Val said, retreating up the steps. “I was just about to go downstairs to yours…” The door at the bottom of the stairs opened again, and Dacy came clattering in. She ditched her high heels as soon as she could, and trotted up the steps, chanting, “Bathroom bathroom bathroom…” “Get in line!” Cara said, “There’s a line?” Meagan said, coming up after Dacy. “We got people in two showers,” Cara informed her. “Fuuuuck,” Meagan said. “How does this keep happening, guys?” “You need it too?” “We all do,” Meagan said, gesturing first to Dacy, then back to Zephyr, coming up behind her. “I really do,” Dacy said. She was marching in place, picking her feet up off the ground in mincing, careful steps, bare toes on the carpet. Her nails were painted red to match her dress. “Val, can I go ahead of you?” “Umm…” “I just drank a lot of rum and cokes and I really really really need to go,” Dacy said. “Hey, I just worked a five-hour shift with no breaks!” Cara said. “And I had some coffee to get through it. I’ve had to go for two hours!” She, too, was showing some signs of desperation: legs pressed close together. But frankly, Dacy looked much more desperate. Parker was, after all, a connoisseur of such things. “Dacy, can I get past you?” Meagan said. “I’m not cutting in line, I just wanna say hi to my lover.” “Oh, sorry, sure…” Meagan stepped up to where Parker was standing in the doorway. She kissed him hello, gave him a hug, and whispered in his ear, “Hey.” “Hey.” “Just enjoy it.” “Huh?” “Just enjoy it. I mean, what else can we do?” “You’re sure?” “Happy birthday.” He gave her a skeptical look. She shrugged. He tried to take it all in… Val, in front, was quiet. She was always quiet, but she wasn’t saying anything at all now. She didn’t seem to be showing any particular signs of desperation… other than a certain look in her eyes. Parker remembered how, long ago when she’d had to pee in a bottle in the back seat of Meagan’s car, she’d gone practically nonverbal first. There was a tension in all her body that spoke volumes, however. Cara, right behind her, was expressing herself more verbally than physically. “Two hours,” she repeated, as Dacy again begged to go ahead of her. “Two hours! And someone was in the staff bathroom when I got off! I was worried I wasn’t going to make it home!” Worried or not, she still didn’t seem too desperate by comparison. But her close-pressed legs had escalated to crossed legs. Dacy, on the other hand, was showing all sorts of physical signs. She looked and sounded a little drunk and a lot desperate. She was doing a somewhat wobbly pee dance, wriggling around a little bent over. As she turned this way and that, Parker had an excellent look at her cleavage—for as usual she had gone partying in a short dress. Underneath that dress, her thighs were clenched together, or crossed, or marching in place. “Fuck,” she said. “We drank a lot at the party, but we couldn’t go at the party. The line was too long!” She marched in place again, those magnificent breasts bouncing (her bra was clearly inadequate). But most telling of all was the look on her face: she was grimacing, eyes wide in panic. “It’s true,” Meagan chimed in. She was not showing the strain that Dacy was, but to Parker’s expert eyes she obviously needed to go: she was locked down tight. “I had the least of all of us, since I had to drive, and I had two beers. They were a while back,” she added quickly. “We were there a long while. Longer than I expected…” “Sorry!” Zephyr said. “I wanted to hear the band…” She, too, was all dressed up, but in a tight shirt and a miniskirt. She was also wriggling. Quite a lot, actually. “Shit,” she whispered, apparently to nobody, a look of fear in her eyes. “I had four…” Miranda stepped out of the bathroom. “Me first, me first!” Dacy begged. “We all gotta go, girl,” Cara said. “I am literally about to wet myself, Cara! Can’t you go downstairs?” “There’s someone in there!” “I think that’s Zach, actually,” Parker said. “Really?” Cara said. “Well, he damn well better let me in, or he’s sleeping on the floor tonight…” She headed downstairs quickly. “Val, please,” Dacy said. She was now bent over, legs crossed, clenched hand held straight down at her sides or making fitful motions, like she wanted to grab herself but didn’t dare. Meanwhile, her breasts were literally slipping out. “…Okay,” Val said. She didn’t look terribly happy—but Dacy appeared to be on the brink of crying, exploding, or both. “Ohthankgod,” Dacy said, and rushed in. She was hoisting the hem of her dress as she ran, and Parker caught a flash of ass. “I’ll be quick, I promise!” she said over her shoulder. She moved a little too quickly, perhaps—she tried to kick the door closed behind her, and it didn’t quite latch, so what came next was clearly audible. First the clatter of a toilet lid being flung up and banging off the tank, and then the hiss of a truly desperate piss, and then a moan of pure blissful relief. It all came awfully fast, though—so fast that Parker couldn’t envision how she’d had time to get her panties down. Maybe she hadn’t? (Maybe she wasn’t wearing any?) The pee stream hissed on quite a while. Dacy moaned again. Val looked pained; Zephyr didn’t so much moan as whimper. “Who’s in the other bathroom? Mitchell?” Meagan asked. “Yeah,” Parker answered. “Hey, Mitchell! Can you hurry up?” Meagan said, knocking on the closed door. “I’m going as quick as I can! I’m all over shampoo!” Mitchell hollered. The toilet flushed and all three girls still waiting reacted: Val instantly crossed her legs, Meagan tensed up still further, and Zephyr… well, she was already bent over, one hand clinging to the railing of the stairs. The other hand reached under her miniskirt and just grabbed. She was shuddering. Dacy emerged, blushing a little. Val, moving with far more urgency and hurry than Parker had ever seen other than out on the athletic field, darted into the bathroom behind her, closing the door more carefully. There was a flash of urgency mixed with relief on her face that cut through her usual reserved expression. “Oh my god,” Dacy said, looking down the steps. “Zephyr, that looks painful.” “It is,” Zephyr said in a small voice. “I’m almost…” “Just a bit longer,” Dacy said encouragingly, stepping down past Meagan to Zephyr’s side. Zephyr shook her head. “I’m leaking,” she whispered. “What?” “My panties are wet…” “Oh, hon,” Dacy said, and hugged her roommate—carefully. “That does it,” Meagan said. “I’m taking you in with me.” Zephyr’s eyes widened. “Really?” “Yup.” The toilet flushed again. Zephyr crossed her legs over her hand. Her head was ducked and Parker couldn’t see her face, but the shivering could be the last moments before an uncontrollable explosion—or sobs. “Nearly there,” Dacy said, reassuringly. Val stepped out. “Didn’t even wash my hands,” she said. “Go go go!” Dacy said to Zephyr. “I can’t move...” “Just ten feet to go,” Dacy said, literally helping the bursting girl up the last steps. “You want the toilet or the tub?” Meagan said, already unbuttoning her jeans, as Zephyr tottered toward the bathroom door. “I’ve never peed in a bathtub…” Zeph said in a husky voice. She was definitely about to explode in both piss and teers. Walking double, one hand still clenched between her legs, she inched into the bathroom. “Here, I’ll show you how,” Meagan said, and closed the door behind them. Parker stepped back into his room to avoid listening (and to avoid being caught listening). He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples, feeling the churn of images and emotions in his head. So much desperation, all at once. It was a dream come true. So why didn’t he feel like it? He was barely even stiff. He lay back on the bed. The answer’s obvious, really. I’d rather have Meagan forever than five—or ten, or fifty—desperate girls in my hall. They’re sure taking a long time in there. The door opened and Meagan stepped into the room. She had a bemused look on her face. “Better?” Parker asked. “Bladder-wise? Of course. Brain-wise…? Very different story.” “Why, what’s up?” She sat down on the bed next to him. “Zephyr just kissed me.” “For letting her use the bathroom with her?” “Ummm… I guess?” “Man, you never give me a peck on the cheek when I let you go!” “Uh.” “What?” “Not a peck on the cheek.” “…Wait. Lips?” “Oh yeah.” “Zephyr kissed you. On the lips.” “Uh-huh.” “I am so confused right now.” “Right there with you, hon…” Meagan shook her head. “Fuck. I should talk to her.” “Yeah, I think you should!” “But I wanted to check on you. You didn’t really look like you were enjoying all that.” He shrugged. “No consent.” And I wish that was the reason I was bothered… “Aww. You’re so good!” “Well. That wasn’t the only reason.” “Hmm?” He opened his mouth, tried to say, I’m losing you—and closed it again. She stroked his hair. “Hey. You can say it. Whatever it is.” “I’m—worried.” “About?” “Us.” She lay down next to him and kept stroking. “Are you worried about the sex? And how we haven’t been having enough of it lately?” “Uh—yeah. That’s part of it.” “I know you’ve been jacking off,” she said. “Were you fantasizing about other girls?” “…Yeah.” She nodded slowly. “Sorry.” “Hey. I’m not happy about it. I wish you hadn’t. But I get why you did it.” She sighed. “I was afraid grad school would eat our sex life… but after I went, not just from trying to get in.” He said nothing. “Were you fantasizing about Zephyr?” she asked. He managed to whisper, “Yes.” She nodded again. “Are you angry?” “Well, irritated. But we both know it was pretty much impossible to avoid her. Besides, tonight your fantasy came to life—and you actually don’t want it.” “I want you.” She smiled sadly. “And so the battle began. Desperate girls: turn-on! Massive guilt: turn-off!” “About right.” “No wonder you’re freaking out.” “Yeah. But why aren’t you?” “Because I saw your face. If you’d been drooling I’d be so jealous, I’d be screaming at you right now. Or worse, not screaming.” He shuddered in memory. “But you so obviously looked so uncomfortable. Honestly, you seemed almost as bad as we looked. How can I be jealous of Zeph when she ties you in knots like that?” “You’re really not jealous?” She shook her head. “Sad, yes. Worried, yes. A little ticked off and frustrated, yes. Jealous? No.” They lay there for a while. “We should probably talk,” Parker said. “Yeah. You wanna do that now?” “Not really.” “Me neither. It’s late and I’m exhausted and we’ve got all of break to do that.” She laid a gentle hand on his chest. “But do you wanna make love?” “I just wanna hold you.” “I can live with that.” “Forever.” To that, she said nothing. --------------------------------------------------------------- They didn’t talk the next morning, hurrying off to class. And when Parker came home to celebrate the beginning of Spring Break, he saw Meagan and Zephyr sitting out back on the lawn chairs, clearly talking earnestly. He decided he wanted to give that conversation a wide berth. Some time later, Meagan came upstairs, looking even more bemused than the night before. “What’s up?” Parker asked. “So…” Meagan began, and stopped, and then opened her mouth again, and finally managed, “I really don’t know how to start this!” “Yeah, that’s pretty obvious!” “Zephyr’s got the hots for me.” “Huh. Did not see that coming.” “The kiss was a pretty big clue.” “Well, yeah, but before that.” “There have been some other hints, too. But here’s the thing: she also noticed that I was always putting myself at the back of the line for the bathroom. And then the way I was acting at the party… peeing in front of everyone, I guess, and making her piss outside…” ” Parker tensed up. “Yeah. She’s almost on to us. But not quite. She got the wrong idea—she thought it was my kink.” “Oh. Oh! Last night—was that a set-up?” “Yup. Not really totally premeditated, but she was feeling a little daring and desperate and so she decided to have some fun with it. I did notice she was stalling, keeping us at the party a long time… but it ended up waaaay worse than she thought it would be, since everyone else needed to go at the same moment. Anyway. We peed next to each other, in the bathtub, and she kissed me. Tried to seduce me through pee, I guess. She didn’t realize she had the wrong partner of the two.” “You didn’t tell her…?!” “Of course not. That’s your secret, not mine. But I did admit there’s a bit of a sexual rush when I hold it so long and then let it out. And she agreed.” “Whoa.” “Oh, we’re just getting started here. So apparently she hasn’t gotten laid in many months. She had a sexy Spring Break lined up to deal with that, but her plans fell through. So she knew she was gonna be stuck here, and she thinks I’m hot, and… well, she made a play.” Parker’s heartbeat was skyrocketing. “And what did you say to that?” “That I’m loyal to you, of course.” “That’s good to hear.” “Mmmhmm. I know we’re not doing great, hon, but I’m not about to jump in the sack with someone new because of a rough patch.” “Thank you. So… I guess this week could be a little awkward.” “Wellll…” “Well what?” “When I told her that I was sticking with you, she offered me a threesome.” This can’t be happening. “With pee.” This definitely can’t be happening. And he said so. Meagan shrugged. “I guess it is, though.” “What did you tell her?” “That I needed to talk with you.” “Not a ‘no’? Really?” “So… I know things haven’t been great between us lately…and I thought maybe that… this could help?” “You’d seriously be okay with a threesome?” “I’m in college! Lesbian experimentation is totally legit…” “But you’d be okay with sharing me?” “The way she framed it, you’d be sharing me with her. She says you’re a good friend and all, but she’s definitely much more into me.” “I meant in terms of jealousy. Me getting turned on by her. Her getting desperate for—well, for both of us.” She shrugged. “I guess I’m trying to tackle the jealousy thing head-on. Try to get myself past it.” “I still can’t believe this…” “I know. But anyway. I really wouldn’t mind trying it out. Zeph’s cute and sweet and I know she can get you fired up. You said as much last night. But I can also see the flip side, and why you wouldn’t want to. “So it’s your call, love. What do you say?”
  13. Weasel

    Housemates: Life of the Party

    Part 3 at last. Blame the site maintenance, it cut me off. --------------------------------------------- The music was, at Meagan’s direction, a little less raucous now. They could slow-dance to it, and they did so. But even having her arms around him couldn’t shut off the turmoil in Parker’s brain. Not long later, Zephyr came downstairs too—with a shirt on, this time. The party was winding down a bit; the more distant friends were clearing out, and it was more the closer circle now. But Zephyr seemed to be putting the incident behind her by means of more revelry. She wasn’t drinking anymore, Parker noticed, but she asked to put on a more lively dance and threw herself into it. Meagan, Cara, Randy, and several other girls joined her; Parker stood to the side and held up the wall for a while, watching. He watched all the girls. He watched their bodies. He tried to just watch Meagan, but it was impossible; someone else always caught his attention or crossed his line of vision. He tried to just watch eyes and faces, but the sway of breasts and hips was simply too distracting. And he clenched his fist so tight, he drove his nails into his palm. Meagan had apparently decided to un-cut herself off; she took another beer from the keg and drank it fairly quickly, over just a quarter-hour or so. Parker had lost his second well-nursed cup some time ago and decided to just have half of another one. But then Zach handed him a full cup and he drank a little more. So before long he was a little buzzed and a little bleary, and passed a few minutes in a fog. The house was less crowded now, but somehow that just made people cluster even tighter together. Some folks were still grooving to the music, but most of the Franklin folks had gathered in the kitchen. Meagan was sitting on the countertop, her eyes bright and cheerful; Zephyr was standing beside her, laughing; most of the rest of the crew was in there, too. Cara was trying to make French fries from the bag she had in the freezer, but had apparently decided she wanted them to be garlic fries, and this (plus alcohol) was making the process rather more elaborate. Meagan held out a hand to Parker as he stepped into the kitchen, flailing at the wrist a little, and he stepped over to her side. Since she was now a bit higher up than him, she could caress his head and neck with ease, and did so. Not long after he stepped into the kitchen, she said, “Fuck, gotta pee again!” She raised her clenched fists in mock fury. “Beeeeeer!” And when she laid her hand back on his neck, she pinched him quickly to show him what she was up to. She waited a while, but apparently the beer and the water were too much, or breaking the seal had cut down on her natural resistance, and it was only a few minutes later that her hand clenched tightly on his shoulder. And a few minutes later still, she swore again and said, “I really can’t hold it.” “Bathroom’s right around the corner,” Clark pointed out helpfully. Meagan considered, then said: “Naaah, that’s too far away.” She bumped Parker with her hip. “Can you move over a bit, lover?” When he stepped a little away, she simply scooted herself along the countertop until she came to the sink, and unzipped her jeans. “You’re really gonna piss in the sink?” Cara yelped. “It’s my party and I’ll piss where I want to!” “That’s so unsal—uns—unsanitary!” “Oh, like you’ve never done it,” Meagan shot back, wriggling her underwear down just enough. “No, I haven’t!” “I have!” Dacy said, raising the hand that she didn’t have clinched tight against Clark. “Me too,” Miranda said. “What?” she said, as people turned toward her. “Big family, small house. Sometimes you just gotta go.” “Exactly!” Meagan said, as she began peeing. “Mmmmmm, peeing feels nice.” “On that note,” Zach said, and negotiated his way out of the crowded kitchen. “Does it feel nicer because you’re using the sink?” Zephyr asked, her eyes alight and grinning. “Kinda!” Meagan asked. “There’s a kick in it, yeah. (Hand me a paper towel, love?) Breakin’ the rules. I’m a rebel.” “An unsanitary rebel!” “Best kind!” “I’ll support you, Meagan! Atta girl!” Zephyr said, clapping. “Fight the power!” “Aww, what the hell,” Dacy said. “Scoot over.” As Meagan obligingly moved out of the way, Dacy jumped up on the rim of the sink next to her, pulled the hem of her dress out of the way, and let go as well. “No underwear, Dacy?” Zephyr said. “A lady never tells,” Dacy said demurely—as demurely as anyone could while pissing in the sink and nearly falling out of her low-cut dress as she leaned forward for balance. “Now, you see, I feel like I’d be criticized for doing this,” Clark said. “Nah, it’s just that you guys can piss anywhere you damn well please already,” Meagan replied, jumping down off the countertop so she could wriggle her jeans the rest of the way back up. “But pissing in a sink seems trashy for men. There’s an odor of ‘alcoholic hobo’ to it, somehow. Whereas in the case we’ve just witnessed, it’s seen as daring and racy. A bit of a double standard, really. Perhaps with a patriarchal bargain thrown in, as the participants are young and attractive…” “You’ve either had too much to drink or not enough,” Dacy said, and jumped down to kiss him. Cara managed to get the French fries out just as most of the remaining dancers straggled home, forcing the Franklin House folks to eat them themselves. But after just a few, Meagan shook her head. “These are delicious, Cara, but I’m so full of beer,” she said. “Even PBR can get to you after a while…” “No offense taken!” “Time to go up, hon?” Meagan asked. “Yeah, sounds good.” “Thank you all so much for the party,” Meagan said, clasping her hands together earnestly. “Especially you, Dacy. I love you. I love you all. This was amazing. Drink lots of water and I’ll see you in the morning.” They went upstairs. As the door of their room closed, Meagan turned around and kissed him passionately. “I love you most of all,” she said. “Want me to show you how much?” “Sure.” She stripped them both naked and broke out the lube. But he seemed to be having a hard time with getting hard, so to speak. She lay down next to him and worked on him for a bit, and started talking to him as she did. “I drank a lot for you tonight,” she said, “and held it for you, too. As long as I could. Remember me not even being able to make it upstairs? Having to piss out back?” She retold several of the incidents in the evening—working around Zephyr and Dacy, he noticed. But at best he was barely more than flaccid; his cock flopped around in her hands, heavy with blood but not hard. She moved her storytelling back in time a bit, returning to their first time together, to the treehouse, to the planter box the summer before. “Sorry,” he muttered. “It’s okay. Beer can do that. I’m not worried.” “I need to pee, too. That’s in the way a bit.” “I need to go, too. Get rid of the last little bit. Want to go together? Would that help?” He thought it over, and then said, “Nah. Go ahead.” “’Kay.” After they’d both peed separately, and brushed their teeth, she lay down beside him and cuddled up. “How are you feeling, lover?” she asked. “A little weird.” “It’s okay. It happens to every guy sometimes. It happened to you our first time together, remember? And beer does that. Don’t worry.” It’s not that, he thought. He opened his mouth to say it, too—and shut it again. ------------------------------------------------- The next morning he woke up with his cock in her mouth. She let go once she saw he was awake. “Oh good,” she said. “I really need to pee, and I wanted to wait for you.” “It’s okay,” he said. “You can go.” “You’re sure?” she said. “Totally sure? I mean, I really gotta go, still some water left over from last night in me, I think—but I can hold it until you come.” “No. Go ahead.” “Well—mmkay. It’ll be a relief, at least. It’s been a long twenty minutes waiting for you to wake up…” She pulled her t-shirt back on (she was still wearing her sweatpants) and dashed off. She came back and straddled him. “Where were we? Mmmmm, should I tell you how nice it felt to piss just now…?” After a few minutes it seemed he was still going to remain quite soft. “I guess I’m not really in the mood,” Parker said. “God, that’s such a cliché, but…” “No pressure,” she said, and went off to work out. That night, however, she tried again. “You really want me, don’t you?” Parker said. “Like always,” she said. “But yeah, especially now. I know it hasn’t been that good lately. That’s why I was glad when I figured out you were jacking off again. Glad at first. But now that I know I’ve got next year lined up, I really did want to make love to you.” She wriggled a little. “And yeah, I’m pretty worked up. Now that the worry’s gone, I think my body wants to make up for lost time.” “I’ll go down on you if you want.” “I’d like that, yeah, but I also want you in me. It’s nice to come, but—how can I say it? There’s something connected about making love. About having you in me. Seeing you as I’m riding you.” “Yeah.” “That’s why I’ve been trying to turn you on with all this pissing and holding…” Something clicked. “‘Trying’ is the right word, isn’t it? But it doesn’t seem to be working. I dunno why. It’s like my number-one turn-on, why is it turning me off now? It doesn’t make sense.” “It’s sex, lover. It doesn’t ever make sense.” She paused. “I mean, yeah. Your kink and mine, they both make sense, considering. They’re all about control. Totally sexy. But there’s a lot of other stuff out there that doesn’t make sense at all. My eyes have seen things that I cannot unsee, and they are well and truly weird.” “True. And sometimes… sometimes my kink is actually useful.” “Hmmm?” “The reason I realized that Zephyr was all tensed up when Gavin was coming onto her. It’s because I’m so used to watching you to see if you’re all tensed up.” She smiled. “Well, thank god for your kink, then. But if you’d rather play it straight tonight…? Not bring holding in at all…?” “Yeah. I think so.” She pulled off her t-shirt, pulling her hair loose from it as she cast it aside. Since she was ready for bed, she was topless underneath. Something about that gesture, simple yet sexy, made him relax a little. She bent over him and placed his limp penis in between her breasts, gently rubbing him. Little by little, he began to stir. She grabbed some lube and kept going. I wouldn’t be able to do this with Zephyr, he thought. Running around topless or not, hard nipples or not, she can’t do this. Hers aren’t big enough. His body and mind eased their way into it. When he was hard enough, she moved to guide him into her, but he had her wait until they’d done a few minutes with the vibe. She got slick very fast (“Like I said, pretty worked up”). And soon she was looking down on him as she rode him, just as she’d said—occasionally bending down to kiss him and have her breasts brush his chest—and this time, it worked out just fine. ------------------------------------------- End of Part 3 For all of you who read all the way to the end of this: stay tuned for an announcement re: the Meagan & Parker stories.
  14. Weasel

    Housemates: Life of the Party

    Part 2 of 3 --------------------------------------------- “Go on, then, you know where the bathroom is,” Meagan said. Zephyr got up and tried to walk over, and discovered she was far too unsteady to walk unassisted. Leaning on the beer-pong table (to the consternation of the current players) she held out both hands to Meagan. “Help me!” “Might as well, I gotta go too,” Meagan said. But she was a little wobbly as well, so she turned to Parker. “C’mon lover, help us out.” So Parker found himself with both Meagan and Zephyr leaning on him as he attempted to steer them toward the bathroom. The nearest one was the big one with the keg in it, of course, and Zephyr flatly refused to pee there. She was squirming all over the place while clinging to Parker’s arm, which resulted in a whole lot of boob contact, but she refused to pee there. An attempt at backtracking so they could go upstairs brought them face to face with the dancing crowd in the front room, which looked impenetrable for the three of them together, and so Meagan said, “Nope! Let’s go out the back.” As they retraced their steps Zephyr was whimpering and clutching herself with her free hand. Meagan didn’t seem to be locking down so much, but that didn’t mean she didn’t need to go; she seemed pretty antsy too. It could have been sexy as hell. It should have been sexy as hell. Out in the back yard the cold air hit them. It was still early March, after all, and while the days were growing longer and warmer, the nights still had a lot of winter’s bite to them. The cold reached right into all three of their bladders and squeezed. Parker hadn’t even realized he’d needed to pee until he had to clench up. How it felt for the girls he couldn’t imagine, but Zephyr bent double and squealed. More astonishing, Meagan tried to lock down—he could feel her struggling to do so, since she had her arm around his shoulders—but apparently failed. She had to quickly cross her legs. To make matters even worse, two guys were peeing freely on the grass. “Fuck goin’ upstairs,” Meagan said, with more than her usual drawl. “I’m pissin’ righ’ here.” And, suiting the action to the word, she popped a squat. Or she tried to, at least. But she had to lean against the wall to keep from slowly toppling over while she unzipped her pants, and then getting them down around her knees was a longer process than usual, and once that was managed she didn’t even really squat so much as sink down the wall to a more-or-less sitting position and let fly, not even looking to see if her clothes were out of the way. Fortunately, they were (mostly). Zephyr, on the other hand, was making no move to follow Meagan’s example. She looked miserably desperate, with tears in her eyes, but instead of squatting she was doing the most frantic pee dance Parker had ever seen on a girl. The squirming was simply incredible. She got her whole body into it, legs dancing, feet stamping, fists clenched tight on wildly swinging arms. With her hair tied back in a ponytail, that was swinging too. Parker’s mind flashed back to one of the “waiting in line” pictures he’d seen on Shara and Ger’s website, helpfully captioned by the photographer, ending in the line, “She cannot stand still—yum!” Since she was topless, he also couldn’t help but notice that her nipples were rock-hard. “Zeph, jus’ pee here!” Meagan said. “No one’ll mind.” I don’t know about that, Parker thought. “I can’t! I can’t! We gotta go upstairs, I’m gonna pee in my pants!” Meagan’s piss was the usual big blast, so she was tailing off quickly. Rather than getting up, however, Meagan simply grabbed one of Zephyr’s swinging fists. (Parker noted with a rush of respect and appreciation that his girlfriend had not lost all her coordination; it was basically a classic Ultimate one-handed grab.) She pulled Zephyr over to her side and dragged the desperate girl down next to her. “You’re peein’ here!” she ordered. “In your pants or on the ground, I don’t care, but jus’ do it! Parker, turn aroun’.” He did so quickly, relieved—and disappointed. He heard unzipping jeans and then a hiss of a new stream. Zephyr’s piss sounded noticeably different from Meagan’s—it was higher-pitched and seemed to produce more splatter. It also took a lot longer. “Whew, you’re still going?” Meagan said, apparently re-zipping her own jeans. “You’ve got a lot in you! I’ll bet you didn’t break the seal before now, didja?” “Nope.” “Feels good, right?” Meagan said. “So good,” Zephyr said, her voice a little throaty with pleasure. Her stream finally slowed to a trickle (but didn’t altogether stop). “It’s like comin’, sometimes,” Meagan said, “after you’ve held it so long.” Zephyr giggled. “I never noticed that!” I have. So many times. Finally Zeph’s trickle came to complete stop, and there was the sound of rustling clothes. “Um. A lil’ help, lover?” Meagan asked. Parker turned around—and realized that the two of them were having a hard time getting Zephyr’s pants up while also keeping themselves upright. Her underwear was mostly up—but not quite, revealing a shock of dark pubic hair just over the waistband of her slightly askew panties. Her jeans were caught somehow. And of course she was still topless. Zephyr quickly covered her crotch with one hand. “Um, what do you want me to do?” Parker said. “Oh, I see,” Meagan said. “All right, I’ll do it, you jus’ hold me up, hon.” This he could do, and do so by staring down at her wonderful neck and shoulders without looking at Zephyr’s nakedness. He got the two of them back inside somehow, back inside and seated on sturdy, non-wobbly chairs by the beer pong table. Then he went back outside and had his own quick piss. It wasn’t hard, since he wasn’t hard. He stopped by the keg on his way back in, since he’d only had one beer so far, carefully nursed. He had no real desire to catch up with the girls, especially as they seemed to need him mostly sober at this point. But he’d noticed that Trav had a game going in his room, so instead of going back to Meagan and Zephyr, he watched the guys play Xbox for a while, still just sipping. After twenty minutes or so he thought he’d better check on the girls again. He didn’t particularly want to, but his responsibility overpowered his reluctance. When he got back out, Meagan was gone, and Gavin had taken her seat. He had an arm around her shoulder and was whispering in her ear. Parker stopped a few feet away, trying to process what was niggling him at the back of his brain. Well, for one thing, you’d rather be sitting there, clearly staring at her tits… For another thing, she doesn’t look all that comfortable. As he watched, Gavin reached over with his free hand. It looked like he was trying to go for a gentle, sexy caress. It ended up being a drunken pawing. Zephyr didn’t pull away—but she instantly stiffened. Parker glanced around. It was mostly guys in the room by now; the girls seemed to have moved over to dancing. And nobody seemed to be batting an eye. Okey-doke, my path is clear. “Hey.” They both looked up at him: Gavin, half-confused and half-annoyed, and Zephyr, clearly relieved. Parker couldn’t come up with a good follow-on, so instead he simply stared at Gavin. “Is there a problem?” Gavin said. It came out slightly more belligerent than he might have meant it, more You got a problem with me, buddy? “Zephyr, you okay?” Parker asked, finally getting something sensible out of his mouth. Zephyr hesitated. It looked like she was feeling very much not okay, but was reluctant to say so. “I got your water, hon,” Meagan said from over Parker’s shoulder. “Oh, thank you!” Zephyr said. As if her friend’s words somehow released her from a spell, she jumped up out of her chair and took the cup Meagan held in both hands. “Wanna go upstairs for a bit?” Meagan asked. “Sure.” “Parker, can you make sure Gavin can find his way out?” Meagan said. Well, great. I get to handle the drunken asshole. But Meagan had reminded him of a good tactic: sheer distraction. “Dang, it’s hot in here. Wanna go outside for a minute, man?” Gavin nodded, looking more confused now than anything else. Parker led him down the back hall and they stood outside for a bit, cooling off. “Dude,” Gavin said. “What?” “You totally cock-blocked me.” “Man, she obviously didn’t want to be with you,” Parker said. “You don’t know that.” “It was all in her body language, man. You didn’t notice her tensing up?” Gavin looked more perplexed than ever. “No?” Parker realized in a sudden flash that a few years before, he might not have noticed Zephyr’s discomfort, either. The way she tensed up was very similar to the way Meagan locked down when she was getting desperate, and he was now well-trained in spotting that. Heck, I might not have been paying attention at all when he put his hand on her, except I’ve been watching Zephyr for a while now, trying to see if she’s uncomfortable—just for a different reason. “Trust me, man, I know her, I’ve lived with her a while now,” Parker said. “She wasn’t coming on to you, and she wasn’t cool with you coming on to her.” “But she took her shirt off…” “Yeah, well, one: that’s normal for her. Two: it might not have been for you.” “You mean Luis?” Gavin said. Or me. “Yeah, sure, maybe. I dunno. Maybe she was just too hot. All I know is, she didn’t look happy when you had your arm around her.” “Aw, shit, I didn’t know… I didn’t mean…” “Hey, you crossed a line, but just be glad you didn’t go any further than that, huh?” “Yeah, I guess…” “You’re welcome. You play Xbox? We’ve got one set up.” “Nah, man… I think I’ll just go home…” “Take care.” Parker watched until Gavin had made it across the street (a bit of a tricky task, but less so on a Saturday night), then went in the side door and up the stairs, looking for his ladies. He found them in bed. Meagan was sitting on their bed, leaning against the headboard, and Zephyr was lying across the bed with her head in Meagan’s lap. Meagan was gently stroking her friend’s hair. “Hey, everyone okay up here?” Parker asked. “We’re good, love, thank you. Is Gavin gone?” “Yeah, I made sure he’s across the street.” “Thank you so much. Can you give us a minute? I’ll be back down in a while.” “Sure.” Parker went back downstairs to Trav’s room and watched the gaming for a while longer, leaning on the doorframe. But his mind wasn’t really focused on Trav and Clark’s playing. Instead he was thinking about how close he’d come to missing the whole thing—and how every other guy in the room seemed to have missed it, too. Heck, Gavin himself read the situation wrong. If I weren’t so tuned in to Zeph’s body these days… Naw, let’s be honest here. If I didn’t want to do what he was doing—only maybe with her as desperate as she was earlier… Shit, what am I doing? I’m almost as bad as him. But at least I saw what was going on. Nobody else did. None of those guys cared. Or they thought he was gettin’ it on and decided to let him. How much have I missed, since I just never had a reason to look? He was still simmering over that when Meagan slipped an arm around his waist. “Hey, love. You okay?” “Just thinking.” “You look like you’re overthinking.” “Maybe.” “You did a good thing.” For all the wrong reasons. “Wanna dance?” she asked. “…Yeah.” ----------------------------------------------- To be concluded...
  15. Hey, folks. A little longer and a little omo-ier this time. Enjoy it while it lasts... But first, the usual links to the previous stories. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- February faded into March at last, and with March came mail for Meagan. First was a thin envelope from Stanford, expressing regrets—and second was a thicker one from the University of Illinois, expressing congratulations. Parker felt the worry-cloud lift, just a little. Then, in the same week, two more big envelopes arrived, one postmarked Los Angeles and the other postmarked Ann Arbor. Others followed, generally pretty big. “I got in,” Meagan said for the fourth time, surrounded by her congratulator mail. “I got in to Michigan and Washington and UCLA…!” Parker hugged her again. “I am so proud of you,” he said—and it was true. But UCLA and the University of Washington were making him uneasy. “We need to celebrate, beautiful,” said Dacy. “We need to celebrate in a serious way.” “Fuckin’ aye we do,” Meagan said. “I have worked so fuckin’ hard for this. I have earned my alcohol!” “And then some, I’d say,” Parker murmured. “I’m not going to ask where you’re going yet because I know you have no idea,” Dacy said, “and I think we should make a ‘Don’t ask’ rule for the party. A party foul for sure.” “Oh, I love the way you think,” Meagan said. “Should we have a theme?” “Hmmm… generalized triumph?” “A ‘we are the champions’ party? We can do that. When?” “Is this weekend too soon?” “Well, here’s the question, do you want this to be a classic Franklin House blowout? Or do you want it to be just you and your closest friends?” “Why can’t it be a blowout for my friends?” “Blowouts require at least a hundred people,” Parker put in. “It’s state law.” Meagan grinned. “And who’s to say I don’t have a hundred friends?” “Well, even if you don’t, you’re still in the ‘shindig’ bracket.” “Well, that’s mighty fine. Dacy, I want to invite everyone I know.” “Okay, that might take some organizing. Can we put it off until next weekend? Just four days is a little too tight. Not a lot of time to line up kegs and get the decorations. We’ll put it up on Facebook, that’ll save time on the invites… oooh, question. Toga party? That would simplify.” “Ummm—no.” “Laurel wreaths fit with victory and are commonly associated with toga parties.” “Still no.” “Okay! I’ll need to branch out a little…” “I have great faith in you.” -------------------------------------------------------------------- In the end, Dacy outdid herself. The first thing she did was get the Facebook event organized; the second thing she did was hit both eBay and every thrift store she could find for old trophies, medals, and paraphernalia and apparel from championship teams (of any level). She lined up a keg of PBR (“It won a blue ribbon, after all!”). She draped Franklin’s main room with posters of Olympians, Super Bowl winners, and “Congratulations!” signs. Guests were instructed to come in appropriate garb. To get themselves ready, the Franklin House crew (or at least those who were drinkers) each knocked back a shot of gin. Then Dacy produced Meagan’s costume for the evening: yes, a crown of laurels. (The rest of what Meagan was wearing: a faded “2002 National Champions Ohio State” t-shirt, and her usual jeans.) She immediately put the crown on, said “I’ll drink to that!” and took another shot. Then she added, “Whew, that’s enough of the hard stuff for me, I think…” She did indeed switch to beer thereafter, alternating with swigs from her veteran water bottle. As more people flowed in, the party started ramping up. There was music and dancing and beer pong. After a time there was an outcry for Meagan to take her turn at the latter, and so she and Dacy teamed up against Trav and Clark, who had won the previous match. Since Dacy and Clark were dating, sparks flew, words were exchanged, and the battle was well and truly on. After Clark sank a couple of early shots, Dacy began distracting him with cleavage. She was wearing a dress that was, for once, long enough—but also fairly low-cut. She must have been wearing a truly rugged bra, because despite all the bouncing and dancing she never actually popped out. But said bra was doing a marvelous job of highlighting her already-impressive cleavage, and Parker didn’t know how on Earth Clark could concentrate. Parker certainly couldn’t, especially after Dacy roped Meagan into her “seductive distracting” attempts too. In perhaps her most impressive feat of the game, Dacy managed to catch an overshot ball with her boobs, which won considerable applause and a whoop from Zephyr, but even such heroics couldn’t win the game and soon the girls had drained all their little red cups. Meagan came over to where Parker was leaning against the wall, took a drink from her actual beer cup (helpfully labeled “FOR GRAD STUDENTS ONLY” in black Sharpie), took a different drink from her water bottle, kissed Parker thoroughly, and then cuddled up to him. “Hey,” he said. “Hey.” “I was rooting for you.” “Darn straight you were.” “You fought the good fight.” “All my throwing skills have been thrown off by playing Ultimate so long. I can only throw things that are flat now! I have no idea at all about arc…” “Heh. Nice one.” “What?” “ ‘Thrown off.’ ” “…Yeeeessss. I totally meant that. Well done spotting it,” she said, with a shifty look. “I love you,” he said, and kissed her hair just below her crown. “Love you too. Want proof?” “Hmmm?” She leaned in to whisper, “Gotta pee.” “After all that beer, I’m not surprised in the slightest.” “If I pee now, though, I’ll break the seal.” “Such a conundrum.” “I guess I’ll just have to hold it.” “That’s too bad.” “Isn’t it just? C’mon, let’s dance.” “One way or another,” he murmured in her ear. She laughed, caught him in her arms, and swung him into the dancing. The music was victory-themed too, but only to a point; one could only play “We Are the Champions,” “Eye of the Tiger,” and “Nothing’s Gonna Stop Us Now” so often. Chumbawamba’s biggest hit featured prominently, but it gave way to Franz Ferdinand’s “Take Me Out,” and “All Star” faded into “Hey Ya!”—which is not exactly a victorious song once one listens to the lyrics. But Meagan was reveling in every moment, her hair fanning out around her as she moved. She managed to hold it a surprisingly long time, perhaps because her dancing served more than one purpose. But she couldn’t keep dancing forever, and finally she pulled Parker out of the crowd. She leaned back against the nearest wall, steadying herself with one hand, and pulled him toward her by the shirt with the other. She kissed him long and hard, then said, “So, wanna reenact our first meeting?” “In the bathroom?” “Exactly. Only this time I get to pee there. C’mon.” She led him by the hand to the big downstairs bathroom, which as usual had the keg set up with ice in the shower. Mitchell was manning the keg at this point. “Gotta pee!” Meagan announced as they entered. “Here?” Mitchell said. “It’s my party and I’ll piss where I want to,” Meagan answered. “Heh, I like that…” “I’ll clear out, then,” Mitchell said. “Oh, no need,” Meagan said, undoing her belt. “Uh—you’re sure?” “I have nothing to hide!” she proclaimed grandly with a sweep of her arm. And then, to Parker’s startlement, she dropped her pants and panties and seated herself on the toilet. “Here, lover,” she said. She grabbed his hand and held it to her chest, which did serve to keep him between her and those seeking beer, but mostly it served for him to feel, more than hear, her sigh of relief and the relaxation of tension. She calmly wiped, stood, re-clothed herself, and flushed. Then she kissed him. “I love you,” she said. “I’m so lucky I met you here. Right here in this room.” “I’m so lucky that wasn’t the last time I ever saw you.” “Yeah, that too.” “Let’s hear it for hedgehogs.” “Yay hedgehogs!” She led him by the hand into and down the hallway toward Trav and Lucy’s room. She leaned against the wall again, pulled him close, and made out with him for a while. She might have kept them there longer, but then they heard Zephyr saying, “Eww, get a room!” “Got one already!” Meagan shot back. “Well, use it!” “That’s all the way upstairs! It’s my party, I’ll kiss where I want to.” “I’m sensing a theme,” Parker murmured. “It’s a good theme. I like it.” “Well, okay," Zephyr said, "but when you’re done I want you as my partner for more beer pong.” “Oh, shit, I didn’t realize it was an emergency! I’ll drop everything… which I guess means Parker…” “Hey!” Zephyr laughed. “We’ve got next game, that’s all.” Their opponents were a rather sloshed couple of guys, Gavin and Luis, friends of Meagan’s from the Psych department. Meagan continued to be unable to throw a ball on an arc (at one point she tried to use her Ultimate skills, and rather than sinking the ball she caroomed it off of Cara’s head as she passed by), so Zephyr had to do most of the actual scoring—and she wasn’t much good either. But since the other two guys were not the best at fine motor skills at the moment, the game moved a little slowly. Then Zephyr took a page from Dacy’s defensive-distraction playbook and upped the ante: just as Gavin was about take a shot, Zephyr flashed him. This did indeed make his shot go rather wild, so after Meagan took her turn (and missed again), Zephyr repeated the tactic with Luis. Then she sank a ball and, screaming with triumph, pulled a Brandi Chastain and stripped off her shirt. But unlike Chastain, Zephyr wasn’t wearing a bra. Nor did she put her shirt back on, instead posing in profile to ruin Gavin’s throw. When Meagan realized what was going on, she yelped and clapped her hands over Zephyr’s breasts. But Zephyr simply laughed and said, “Oooh, even better.” She grabbed Meagan’s hands in hers, holding them caught, and took a step back against Meagan, thrusting her butt back against Meagan’s crotch and grinding a bit. Gavin’s next throw missed the table entirely. Meagan pulled her hands away, but Zephyr refused to put her shirt back on—and kept encouraging Meagan to take off her own. Meagan didn’t, to Parker’s relief—nor did Zephyr repeat her bump-and-grind performance. But Meagan did strike a pose or two, and didn’t object when Zephyr draped an arm over her shoulder or around her waist for the sake of distraction. With Meagan’s lack of skill and Gavin’s mind being elsewhere, it really came down to Zephyr versus Luis, and Zephyr won by one cup. Since the game was really just an excuse to get more beer into them, however, everyone was a winner! Or at least so Zephyr claimed. Having drunk several cups of beer, Meagan announced she was cutting herself off—at least for a while. She had a lot of water to catch up on, however, and she kept sipping from her bottle. Zephyr drank a little water too, at Meagan’s urging—and then the beer started hitting them both in earnest, from two directions. Zephyr’s behavior was getting wilder. She hadn’t put her shirt back on. It was pretty warm in the house, with all the people, but still, she was mostly flaunting. Parker just couldn’t figure out who she was flaunting for. Was she hitting on Gavin? Gavin seemed to think so, for he’d stayed pretty close. Or was it for Parker? For Zephyr was staying pretty close to him and Meagan. Zephyr’s jokes got raunchier and her poses more explicit and her movements less coordinated. And then she burst out, “Oh fuck, I gotta piss!” ------------------------------------------ To be continued...