7 comments/ 78166 views/ 10 favorites Wet Ride Ch. 01 By: Goldlion1 Chapter 1: The Beginning A special thank you to my internet muse for this particular story, If you are reading this....you know who you are ;) Katrina relaxed, allowing herself to sink deep into one of the few padded seats on the train. Her legs ached and her mind races from the events of the long tiring day now thankfully behind her. Work had been the usual hell, her boss was a pig unwilling to accept the idea that she wouldn't be sleeping with him for the raise that was rightfully Hers. All that she could see upon leaving the building was the scowling face of that asshole still stewing over the hot coffee she had "accidentally" poured in his disgusting lap. Now, though, far from that place and that man, she began to finally let the tension of the day subside and began to look forward to the train ride ahead. There was a particular passenger who had captured her fancy and she was very much looking forward to the usual lewd display she was accustomed to seeing, a semi-public show form the no-frills beauty who like clockwork would park herself diagonally across from her and do what Katrina loved best. Kat lowered her head in silence, thinking of her, getting wetter by the second anticipating the display to which she was privy to seeing every day for 3 weeks straight now. Kat rubbed her legs together almost imperceptibly feeling the wetness of her pussy lips sliding along their edge. She had been watching this woman for weeks now and not once did she make eye contact, but Kat knew she was aware that she was being watched. How could she not? Kat's eyes burned a hole in the woman's crotch, barely exposed to her, her lace panties masking ever so slightly the shape of her prominent lips. And when she commenced to wet herself, that mask was nearly torn away. Yes, the woman she watched religiously would come in to the car, sit with her legs slightly apart, and piss herself, just a little at a time, leaking out her yellow nectar until they were the last ones in the car. Kat's stop was last, the nameless pissing woman's stop was just before hers. Although Kat had suspected that she may have gone a few extra stops, just to finish the heady show she had begun after the train began to clear out. Kat remembered vaguely, her head was swimming and her pussy was tingling so much at the time that a strong recollection was not possible, that she may have gotten off a few stops early the first night, holding on a few stops more every time once she had noticed she was performing for an audience. She was now one stop away from the station where the woman boarded everyday, and she was dripping with anxious anticipation. She had been on the edge of cunning for what felt like an hour now and desperately needed relief. As the train squealed to a halt, she could barely hold back a sigh as the object of her wet desire stepped into the compartment. She was a very average looking woman, whose very normalcy made her and what she regularly did all the more sexy. She was wearing a modest white button down shirt, which barely showed the tops of her white fleshy breasts, a blue business jacket and matching skirt. In her hand, she carried an elegant brown leather oversized purse, which could almost double as a briefcase. She was already fidgeting, walking with her legs tightly together as she strode clumsily into the cabin and took her usual seat diagonally across from Kat. Kat's pussy was burning now, the wetness she was producing was threatening to cause a perceptible wet spot on her gray chinos, she had taken the precaution of wearing a panty-shield on this day but the copious amounts of pussy cream were barely held back by the wall that was the absorbent pad. She was ravenous with want for this woman, who's name she did not even know, but with whom she shared an intimate bond with, the bond of hot golden piss. Kat was so lost in herself that she didn't notice the woman surveying the room, it seems the show was about to begin and having snapped back to realty she casually clanked over at her slightly parted legs and her lacey white panties. White? She had never worn whit before, it seems that this increasing feral vixen was upping the ante, she knew what Katrina had in mind and she was now a full and willing participant in this little game of hide and piss. The sudden revelation threw Kat for a loop and the freight train of her orgasm came upon her faster than she could control. She wasn't sure if she had made any noise, or even if she was flushed, and she simply didn't care all that she knew at this point is that she had to have this woman, she had to taste her pussy and feel her piss cascading into her mouth and falling over her breasts. She knew that she needed to drink from her and soon. The woman spread her legs ever so slightly, the train was nearly empty now, with a few passengers dozing and others reading their books, newspapers or simply staring out the windows in that lemming-like ride to the oblivion called home. Kat was convinced that between them there was an unspoken agreement that for all intents and purposes, they were the only two there, fuck what went on or who saw it. Then, suddenly, the whole world shifted... The woman took out from her briefcase a pair of tortoise shell glasses and a pen and struck her best librarian pose, looking for the first time directly into Kat's eyes and.... smiling. Kat was so caught off guard by this, so flustered by the thought that this woman with whom she shared a very intimate bond with, but until this point only in her own mind, had broken the barrier between them, for the first time acknowledging the presence of her watcher, and seemingly appreciating it. Kat was floored, but the most shocking surprise was yet to come. The woman placed the pen to her lips and slowly drew her lush bottom lip down, exposing her white teeth to Kat as she sat rapt, unable to move. Then the next surprise came, parting her legs now perceptible to anyone who might be paying attention she closed her eyes and smiled a little devilish smile. A small ruvelit of wetness formed in the shape of her pussy as she let out a very controlled pee. It spread so slowly that it would have taken time-lapse photography to capture the spread. But Kat was so intencely watching her crotch that she could swear she could see every little squirt. A muffled voice came over the speaker announcing the next stop, the woman took her cue and adjusted herself accordingly as to not give her toilet away to those who wearily exited the train, there was only one woman left, and she was curled up in a ball in the last seat near the rear of the car, knocked out, dead to the world. The wet woman now relaxed and spun herself back in the direction of Kat. Looking her dead in the eye, she ran her finger along her dampened slit and spread the wetness over her crotch, making her trimmed pussy stand out in all its fleshy wonder, she was not only wet with piss, but with excitement as well as evidenced by the extreme puffiness of her labia, seen clearly now through the gauze of her semi translucent panties. Without another moments hesitation she placed her finger along her slit and pissed out a short sharp burst, her finger parting it much like the proverbial red sea, or in this case "yellow river." Then she did something that shocked even Kat, she quickly brought her dripping finger to her lips, and inverting it, let the clinging yellow tinged piss drip daintily into her open mouth. Then, running her tongue along the edge of her forefinger she licked it clean. Kat was on the verge of another orgasm when she realized the woman's usual stop was next, she dreaded the thought of this ending and silently wished for a breakdown to prolong this sweet agony she was feeling. But the bespeckeled woman showed no signs of moving, preparing, as she usually did to de-board, she only casually fingered herself through her soaked panties and continued smiling at Kat. Kat was beside herself with lust and did all that she could not to unfasten the button on her chinos and reach deep within her sopping cunt to finger herself and maybe, just maybe join this mystery woman in pissing her pants. But she stilled herself, afraid of breaking the spell. The loudspeaker crackled and a disembodied voice announced the second to last stop, the woman to Kats amazement, still did not move. However the groggy rumpled woman to the rear did. Dazed and stumbling she stood to wait at the door for what was her stop. To Kat's amazement the wet librarian did not change her position. She still sat; legs wide open openly playing with her pussy. She was either convinced that the waking woman either would not notice or she was far beyond caring. The train came to an abrupt halt and the tired woman exited, either she had not seen or had not cared about the wanton display occurring just feet away from her. Either way, the final curtain had now been raised and they were all alone in the car. Kat had no reason to be shy at this point, and slowly unbuckled her pants, sliding the zipper down with a sexy "ziiiiippppp". Her panty less crotch and trimmed patch of brown pubic hair now visible to the woman busily frigging herself in the seat across from her. "Diane," the woman breathed as she began to piss in earnest, moving her panty aside to push two fingers into her gushing cunt. "Kat," Katrina said through a veil of lust, searching out her own sopping tunnel with her middle and index fingers. "Fuck you're hot," was all Kat could say as she watched the woman openly frigging and pissing, leaving a wet line from her pussy to nearly Kat's feet. Diane only smiled in response and continued pissing herself as her face contorted, ready to cum. Suddenly Diane arched her back and unapologetically sent a shower of piss all over Kat's legs, which was all it took for either of them. "Fuck, cum with me!!!" Diane screamed, now far beyond caring. And at the finish of that drawn out E, they both came soaking themselves in cum. Not to be outdone, Kat scooted back on her chair and catching the hem of her pants in her fingers drew out her wet pussy. Pulling back on her lips, she fired a shot of Piss directly at he new friend soaking her in it. Without hesitation Diane fell to her knees and drank in everything Kat had to give her, swallowing lewdly as she did, fucking herself with her fingers until she came again. Exhausted and disheveled, and covered with piss Diane moved up Kats body to give her a deep tongue kiss. "Luv, that was wonderful, I've been meaning to do that to you ever since I knew you watched me pissing myself the first time," Diane smiled. "But now I'm afraid you've missed your stop," Kat said with a mock frown. "No I haven't honey, I was hoping to go home with you, if it wouldn't be too much trouble....maybe get to know each other wetter...I mean better," she laughed. "I would Love that hun, I just hope my girlfriend doesn't mind, but I think we can convince her," Kat grinned. The final stop had arrived and the two very wet women walked arm in arm into the cool evening, smelling of piss and cum, and reveling in a fantasy come true. But that was only the beginning... Wet Ride Ch. 02 Chapter 2 : Home Authors note: Thank everyone who responded so graciously and enthusiastically to the first part of the story. Upon re-reading it I discovered that I had left out a great number of details and characterization, with great editorial effort, and I might add, restraint...I tried my best to remedy that in part 2 I hope the heat of the story isn't lost in the characterization, but that dear reader is for you to decide...enjoy, and remember feedback not only strokes the ego but kindles the creative forces that allow me to entertain and hopefully arouse... After the lewd display they'd put on in the car of the train and the mess they'd left behind, you might expect both Kat and Diane to be embarrassed, or at the very least experiencing the post-orgasmic let down that often follows such an intense experience. Both had cum violently, and it wasn't only the anticipation of this particular day, but of the past few months that built in both of them. Strangely enough, neither felt embarrassed nor let down by the amazing experience. Diane was bi, she had come to grips with that a long time ago, her long time boyfriend introduced her none too slowly to sex with other women. He was an amazing lover, kinky in all the right ways and he always did his best to ensure her climax. He was unhinged in the bedroom, the basement, in public and wherever and whenever the urge took him. The sad fact though was that he was a bastard in all other aspects of their relationship. What he had left her with though was an unabashed love for sex, and a confidence in herself sexually that she carries with her to this very day. What he did not leave her with were feelings of guilt for this love of sex; man woman or any combination of the two, she loved it all. Her demure exterior belied the fact that she was confident in this, not prudish about it. She had enough sense to know that her love of woman as well as man was neither unusual nor dirty. Neither was her love of all things kinky. She had experienced things during her time with Theodore and since, that she never would have dreamed of, and she planned on showing this woman who she has relentlessly drawn into her dark web. She was as patient as a black widow but as gentle as a moth, the irony of that statement, pertaining to her and further to her sexuality was not lost on her. She had to walk a tightrope of desire, neither the spider nor the moth should have the upper hand, or one would surely consume the other; the powdery wings of the moth choking the spider, or the spider liquefying the butterfly and taking over her life. She did not hate him, nor did she hate all men. The stereotype of the meek woman dominated by the strong man and then running to the arms of woman was laughable to her. She was no weakling, in spirit, body or stamina. Kat, now beaming from the encounter, was lost in her own reverie, wondering what her girlfriend, her lover and soul mate, would say to this a new piece of the puzzle of their already complicated lives. Jennifer was a classic beauty; Kat was a tough girl, not a Dyke. She hated that word, to her the thing it described did not exist; she was queer, gay, a lover of woman and the (very) occasional man. She possessed not a single quality that could be identified as "boyish" even in black jeans, a spiked chain wrapped around her waist and a tight black tee-shirt, she was all woman. She had admirers across the sexual spectrum, one of her gay male friends (after an exhaustive lovemaking session) once remarked that if she had ever happened across the notoriously "sexually ambivalent" pop star Morrissey, he would have fallen to his knees and begged to feast on her tangy perma-wet (but never sated) pussy. Jennifer was a marvelous specimen of a human being, kind, tolerant and patient and an unbridled sexual animal. They met through the usual means and had the usual frictions, nothing too unusual. What was unusual was the berth, the latitude given by her to her lover. She was as jealous as any person connected to another but she was also well aware that Kat lover her deeply, completely and that Kat and only Kat would be at her bedside in her dying hour. What worried Kat was the fact that this woman walking with her, wafting the scent of piss and continuing arousal, affected her in much the same way. Jenn would see right through this as any person who one half of a whole, her reaction would determine the direction of not only the rest of the night, but the rest of her life. Silence is golden, funny how that cliché translates and transforms now. They both had drifted away for a few minutes, the intensity of the evening and what was to come bringing up both current and former shadows. Some looming large like dark clouds above them, others supporting them as would a tightly secured but tenuous bridge to the future beneath them. "Lover?" Diane called, clearing the clouds, her voice breaking them like the sunlight through storm clouds. Kat broke through and saw her stepping out; "yes?" she smiled. "A penny?" Kat suddenly laughed, "I'm afraid I've spent my last one dear, for now that is." Diane laughed a hearty laugh, her still piss-wet breasts jiggling slightly under her nearly transparent white shirt. "Why, I may have found myself a punny pisser here." Kat pulled her tight, they had managed to walk about a quarter mile into the 2 mile distance from the station to her and Jenn's home. Kat aggressively pulled her lover to her, kissing her deeply and wetly. Her nipples, once again had become enraged, eagerly pushing her shirt away from her chest. She groped Diane without restraint, un-tucking her shirt and roughly shoving her hand under her skirt. Suddenly seized by a possession of the ghost of the person she had always wanted to become. Pushing her fingers into the damp crease of her panty-covered sex. Roughly fingering her, forcing her to orgasm. Diane moaned, long had she waited another lover who would take her like this. Theodore was relentlessly brutal in his lust, not violent, as violence would be assuming she did not want to be handled in this manner. She did, she longed for it. Not to be dominated, but to be TAKEN. Possessed by a lover for a time and pushed over the edge, as Kat was doing to her now. She shook with the realization that Kat was, for better or worse, a permanent part of her life, as long as they both shall live. Kat pushed past her panties, through them, into Diane's slippery box. She could no longer determine whether there was any material there. The heat and the utter torrent of fluid coming from Diane's pussy left her wondering if there had ever been any material hindrance at all. There was certainly no hindrance of spirit residing in the body of the woman she finger-fucked under the streetlight. She was willing and eager to be taken, and she was pissing a river down the hand shoved halfway up her cunt. "Oh my fucking GOD," she blasphemed. "I'm pissing!" "Soaking your fucking hand you hot BITCH!" "Fuck my cunt!" Kat heard no words, only guttural deeply sexual sounds from Diane. Pleading, demanding words of sexual power, a shared power that would nearly knock her down as she... came... "Fuuuuucccckkkkk!" Apparently they were not as far from home as they thought, standing on the steps of the brownstone behind them was a familiar figure. Hands at her side, mouth agape with shock and too many other emotions to enumerate, stood Jennifer. To be continued... Wet Ride Ch. 03 Chapter 3: The aftermath Author's note: In every story there is a high and a low, a dark chapter where everything seems to go to hell and nothing is certain, this is my dark chapter. Jennifer was aghast, humiliated, disappointed, and utterly and completely aroused. Somehow, maybe it was the shock of being betrayed so blatantly, she removed herself from the actions she viewed and what she saw was like nothing she had seen before. Kat was hunched over, what looked like half her hand pushed into the crotch of this woman. Mouth firmly attached to her chest through what she assumed was her shirt, if in fact she had been wearing one at all. Her (wet?) jacket obscuring half of Kat's face, but what she could see of it was enough to realize that she had a tight grip on the woman's nipple. Kat was oblivious. She was too busy trying to get Diane to swallow her whole, absorb her and create one perfectly hot cunt. She had already come once and was on her way to a shattering second. Kat was not far behind, the grinding of her pelvis against some invisible cock and the slippery friction of her abnormally swollen nether-lips all combined to create a flash fire in her cleft. She had no idea how far she had her hand up Diane's puss, her arm was so wet from tow forms of lubrication that she couldn't distinguish where she ended and Diane began. Catcalls horn honks and the occasional sound of someone yelling "fucking dykes..." could not break her trance she was on her way to becoming one, that would solve everything, her mind flashed, she could reside in this body and still have the other separate piece of her life intact. She was again possessed by that intangible entity, the elusive one she wasn't...yet. Dianne was on the verge of coming hard her whole body liquefied engulfing the hand and the body and soul attached to it. She could feel the pulse, the supernova of white cold/heat forcing its way from her center, she wanted it and it frightened her. Like everything so intense and overpowering she was concurrently and alternatively frightened to the core and begging for its bright release. No sound can escape in the space between fear and desire, but there was a roar. Back on the train...her legs splayed, laying on the tracks...waiting for the train to charge inside her. Her aching gaping hole a tunnel waiting to accept...... Gunnnnhhhhhhhhh Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!! The cry could be heard from blocks away. Dogs and cats cried, families in the middle of dinner paused. Even in this city that has ignored the wails of orphans, and the screams of those about to have the candle of their lives snuffed out, for a split second...there was absolute silence. Unknown to the two now slumped together against the post, part of the cry came from the bottom of the steps, there sitting on the last one, was Jennifer. Her legs splayed, panties down hanging on her left ankle torn asunder from her left, a puddle of her essence sprayed to the edge of the sidewalk. Her orgasmic cry was the wattage that pushed the sounds of Kat and Dianne off into the city, pulsing through windows and penetrating flesh. Now in the waste of the blast, she sat, stunned, mentally, emotionally and physically exhausted, drained of all blood, sweat and urine. She was a shell. The rest of the night was a blur, once regaining her composure (hours, days it seemed) the three retreated into the house robotically. None were ashamed, all were afraid. Uncharacteristically in this type of situation (if one had ever existed, yet a close approximation might be the walking in of a partner in the act of betrayal, or worse yet murder) the "other" spoke first. "My name is Dianne," she said simply, barely able to choke out the words. Embarrassment set in, as did a seething hatred and betrayal on Jennifer's part. She, with every measure of energy left in her, seethed; the boiling of her blood causing the dampness of her sweat to steam off her skin, rising into the heavy air-conditioned room. Without a word she turned on her heels and stormed off , slamming the door of the bedroom behind her, the guest bedroom. Aside from the weight of the betrayal, the palpable feeling of dread, there was exhaustion. In the absence of buoyancy in the air, nothing could keep them from sinking into the depths of sleep. Four weeks had passed since "the incident" and life had certainly changed. After missing work in the morning and sleeping through the early afternoon Kat awakened to an empty home. The haze of the last 20 hours was slow to clear, the deafening roar of what felt like a hangover crowded her ears. Stumbling to the bathroom, Kat's recall kicked in. She felt fucked, on many levels, and it was no surprise that hanging on the bathroom mirror there was a note. The note, written in a hasty shaking hand, read simply, "goodbye." To be continued... Wet Ride Ch. 04 Authors note: To all of you chomping at the bit for more "hot girl on girl piss action," this chapter may disappoint. Longer and harder to write than the first few, I find myself as most writers do, drawn into the lives (internal and external) of the characters I have created. I like these people and I want not only to show them in the heights of ecstasy, but the depths of despair. Also I want to delve a bit into the very real world of sexual ambiguity, the belief that the majority of people are either straight or gay assumes that people are one-dimensional, in my life I have consistently found this to be untrue. If you skip this chapter in favor of "the action" I fear the final chapters may have less of an impact. But again, I leave it up to you, the reader, to decide. Jennifer smiled, for the first time in several weeks a toothy grin opened up across her face. She had spent the last two weeks at Mark's house, thankful she had finally found a place to rest, an aerie to perch upon and rise above herself. The air up there was thin, but with every deep labored breath she managed to come to grips with the fact that she wanted to feel it, wanted to live. She wasn't the type to sink into depression, nor was she apt to indulge in drug or drink to fill the void. She just sat in it, rested behind the rocks of a cold grey hell, keeping the demons of betrayal at bay, but keeping them in her sights. She had become an impartial observer to her life as it was. Surveying the wasteland, occasionally feeling the cold shiver of the reader drawn into the story, but steadfast in her resolve to remain the narrator and not the protagonist. But for now, for this fleeting moment she smiled. After the darkness the light comes unexpectedly, creeps in like a chill up the back of the unaware. At that point the choice is made to either accept or reject it, let it come over you or push it away; the momentary feeling of the harsh cold reality of any given situation lasting only a moment, then subsiding for a light warm purging...smile. She was beginning to let go of herself, to finally step back into the story of her life. As with many things in life it came without warning, creeping through her being stealthily, invading her with her permission. She was finally ready to move on. To what she did not know, but the impetus was there. The fog had cleared and she stepped through and back into the story. Everything in that new landscape was unfamiliar, unknown. One thing she did know for sure, Mark was a good friend. No questions asked, he invited her to stay with him. He was probably the most successful of their wide circle of friends and acquaintances, and uncharacteristically he was also the most gracious. He was a professional set designer, and NYU graduate, one of the few truly self-made men. His parents were dirt poor, raising him as best they could in a housing project in New Jersey. They loved him deeply. He was their only child and was a late life surprise; neither his father nor his mother expected that pregnancy was possible. Having no means to seek medical help for whatever condition he or she may have had they accepted their childlessness and loved each other with wild abandon. This appetite was passed to their son; he had no qualms about pursuing what he wanted, be it material, sexual or spiritual. Also passed to him was a deep respect for the fortunate condition we call life, in others as well as within himself. They were never shy about showing their love for each other, swats on the behind, deep kisses in front of the kitchen sink, screaming chorales of ecstasy as they snuck away upstairs for an afternoon interlude. They were never too explicit in their affection in front of him, but there was no hiding their love and great lust for each other. They were open about sex with him, and he felt free to ask them anything about any topic, however forbidden. They hid from him nothing, they shared the radical social and political views, "libertine" they called them, where pleasure ruled and all things had their place. And most of all they loved him, at every turn there were comforting kisses and warm hugs, reinforcement of all things positive. Mark became exactly the man anyone would become under these circumstances, a bright, inquisitive, hard working wonderful man. He was the first person to lend a hand and the last to judge, highly imperfect, yet always striving for perfection. Sexually, he had tried it all. Every new experience enjoyed or not, was a new and therefore beneficial one. He had been with men women and each shade of identification in between. Only recently discovering that all the experimentation amounted to the sad fact that he was simply this, a heterosexual. Remembering the exact moment of discovery, the chiseled beautiful body of the grip (and his unusually large member) slamming into him from behind. He laughed just as he did then, then it was an inappropriate laugh, now as he danced in front of his friend in his jockey shorts and a collection of leftover "La cage aux falles" props, it was more than appropriate and it was shared.. He had been waiting for the right moment to break her out of her funk, seeing the way she had straightened her back and walked with the beginnings of her confidence emerging again, his timing was impeccable. A smile became a laugh, and laughter rolled into gales, tears now streaming down her face she begged him to stop. Impressed by his own ability to make her feel better and relieved by the knowledge that she had surrendered to his silliness, he plopped down beside her whit a hard "thud." She was still chuckling, holding her sides as she came down from the release; with a deliberate movement she reached out with both hands and planted a firm wet kiss on his lips. This was not unusual for them; they shared affection with met lips on more than one occasion. What was unusual was the manner in which she kissed him, lingering, moving and parting his lips, no tongue but this was far beyond any kiss of appreciation they had shared before. Still holding his head in her hands she whispered gently, "thank you, for everything." Leaning her head against his, she started to cry. Kat stood by the stove. Since surrendering herself to the fact that her lover and soul mate was most likely gone for good, she had invited Dianne to stay with her for a few days. Dianne, wise enough to know better, declined at first, until last night, and a light knock on the door. Behind it stood Dianne, dressed in sweats and unmade. Tentative smiles grew on their faces, an almost perfect reflection one of the other. Then a tight embrace, held in the open doorway for the world to see. There was no kiss, no expression of or remnants of the last time they met, just a comforting encirclement of limbs. Now standing by the sink, Kat impatiently shook the kettle, willing it to boil. Dianne slid in behind her, arms feeding under Kat's hands resting on hers settling her movements. Gently easing her away from her own impatience, only one other person could clam her like this... No words, as Dianne held her tightly from behind, Kat's arms crossed over Dianne's as her hands grasped the thick sleeves of her robe. For the first time in many years Kat bawled. Dianne continued to hold her as she violently released all that she held within her for so long, convulsing, howling as a banshee would, sputtering out curses at herself Dianne held on for dear life. Late into the evening they lay in bed Dianne still clutching Kat from behind, listening with a heavy heart to her sobs as she drifted in and out of sleep. When she finally settled Dianne slowly extricated herself and with a lithe series of moves managed to roll gently from the bed. Dianne was beside herself, she had caused all this and it was up to her to fix the unfixable. For the first time in a long time, the spider won and now she was feeling the smothering embrace of moth wings surrounding her. She resolved to make this right, or be dammed trying. Jennifer was wet with sweat, her pulse pounding in her ears. Beneath her was Mark getting fucked harder than any man had ever done him. Above him, the object of his affection for so long, was slamming herself on to him for the seventh time in so many hours. This wasn't a hate fuck, nor was it one of revenge, she felt almost as close to Mark as she did Kat and now that Kat had...."fucked me," she whispered through clenched teeth. Mark was momentarily stunned, her use of the past tense betraying her thoughts. It took every ounce of strength for him to stay hard knowing she was using him for her release and nothing more. But he was wrong, in some twisted way she was repaying him for his kindness, reconnecting herself to humanity and physically breaking the chains that held her to the memory of Kat. She wanted to come, but not without him. She had already wrung 6 orgasms out of him, amazingly he managed to fill her with hot slippery spunk at the climax of every one. She had been so long in having a man, a living protrusion of flesh shoved between her wet pussy lips, a pulsing hot shaft stroking her clit, that she had forgotten what it felt like to have cum inside her. Nearing her climax once again, she bore down on him opening her eyes as wide a tea saucers, looking him in the face. Then without any hesitation she leaned like a redwood felled by the last cut of a perfectly placed axe, and sealed her lips over his. Opening her mouth and sliding her lips along his she plunged her tongue deep inside, tasting his entire mouth from tip of tongue to edge of teeth. This final barrier broken she finally let herself go, admitting for the first time that she too was capable of loving another. "Oh FUCK," she shouted, sputtering her spittle all over Mark's face. Marks eyes popped as she gave the final gift to him, one that he had only experienced once before. Jennifer's face was awash with desire, she just had to claim him as hers, if only for tonight. She bore down using all her reserves to milk him of his cream, and then she really let go... "Garrrrrraaajjajjaaaa," came the indistinguishable succession of sounds from deep in her throat, ending just as she released 12 hours of pent up piss down the shaft of his angry reddened cock. A woman on a mission, she pulled off him and sprayed him with her pussy pee, aiming uncontrollably as she came violently. Again possessed by her desire she smiled evilly at a stunned Mark and in one motion closed off her pee hole and slammed her knees on either side of his head and simply stated..."open." Dutifully he did as she commanded opening his mouth just as her hot acrid stream came at full force. Her expression suddenly transformed, she pleaded..."drink me Mark,. ...Please..." Seeing her need to be accepted by him and his great need to have all of her he happily gulped her hot piss. Raising his head and sealing his mouth over her still spewing cunt, he gulped furiously. With a sigh she pushed the last of herself into his mouth. Taking a second to breathe and survey the damage to her dear friend and everything surrounding him she felt a tinge of shame for taking advantage of him. But this was a unnecessary and reactionary feeling. She truly did love him, and now she truly understood how Kat was feeling. Her heart swelled and her smile grew soft as she slid herself down his body and again locked lips with him, kissing him as furiously as she had earlier, but this time tenderly as well. Suddenly she burst into a fit, a maniacal fit of laughter and tears. "I love you," she kept repeating...."I love you also," she slobbered. It all made some bit of sense to Mark now, all his fumblings, pokings and proddings had lead him to this moment. As they settled into a deep sleep, her wet body draped over his, he began to realize that his life was about to change, dramatically. A pounding on the door startled Mark. He shot up in bed feeling the stalling of his head behind him. Dazed for a second, he thought he smelled bacon, that aroma of domestication coming from the kitchen. Jennifer had not bothered getting dressed; she had simply slipped into a soft lined apron to keep off the splatter. Feeling free, she placed the griddle off to the side and strode across the floor to the door. Unselfconsciously she grasped the handle and unlatched the lock. Opening the door she suddenly felt a weight fall on her shoulders, standing in the doorway was Dianne, bleary eyed and pale. "We have to talk." To be continued...