Make it a Double, Neat

"Here is my suggestion. I will not back-burner this and pretend it was never discussed. Both of us will work tomorrow, and I'm okay having you here. Cindy is a big girl, and not stupid. I will give her the broad strokes if I have to so the two of us-you and I-don't get ambushed and have to explain ourselves. Stay tonight. Leave early to be fresh for work. I'll sleep on things. I'm not sure I can completely satisfy your erotic desires, given my bowels and their pattern. But I invited you into the bathroom once, and I didn't really feel awkward. I can certainly do it again. I can probably even let you use my lap. Go crash. End of tomorrow means we can see where this might go."

With that both of us occupied the respective bedrooms and went lights-out.

Chapter Three

I rose by seven a.m. to haul ass back home to shower and change before work on Friday. I packed a small overnight bag with essentials for two days or so away from home, though the clothing I chose could be sacrificed in pursuit of my interests, if necessary. Honesty it ranked as one of the slowest days I'd ever had to pass in my office just off the showroom floor. By 4:30, we'd dealt with what would probably be our last customer for the day.

I tied up routine paperwork at my desk as my thoughts roamed to Monica. My 'confession' had gone better than I had a right to believe it would. Given Monica's sensible nature, her application of logic in everyday life, and her age, I'd expected to be shot down. Not yelled at and told we could no longer be friends, but told that she couldn't do what I was asking.

But Monica had used one of her strengths, the logic, in a way I didn't expect. Plus she had employed a well-honed ability to listen completely before passing judgement or rendering an opinion.

Beyond these traits that made me first respect her, and second, like her, Monica belied her age and was attractive. She was 5'9" and possessed a figure that many women chased for a lifetime; she was blessed to inhabit the sacred ground of 'not beanpole skinny, meat on her bones but not fat.' I guessed she was 140 pounds or so. Her butt made me envision two halves of a ten-pound bowling ball side by side. Her hair was nearly black; I doubted it was dyed. It framed her face and hung straight a couple inches below her shoulders; she often wore it down but regularly employed a ponytail. Her face remained youthful, taking in the world through hazel-colored eyes. Her smile didn't melt me, but it made me want to grin back at her constantly.

In light of our first meal being Italian, I picked up soup, chili, salad and breadsticks from a mom-and-pop eatery three blocks from my house, opposite my route to work and Monica's shop. Healthier and more sensible than carb and calorie heavy pasta.

I'd never been in on a Friday evening, but when I entered two things happened; Cindy questioned the contents of the bag I carried and put it in a fridge somewhere behind the desk; I was then told that Monica was ten minutes from closing out her last client of the day. Fine, no rush.

But then Cindy asked if I had a few minutes, and led me along a hall that began at the reception desk and paralleled the outer wall. Somehow I'd never registered this detail in all my visits here. She picked a door out of three and in we went. It was small, about eight feet square. It held spare waiting room chairs on two walls, and small wooden office desks on the other two. Cindy picked a chair at random. I occupied one next to her.

She got straight to the point, and I nearly pissed myself when the complete sentence was out of her mouth. "I heard most of what you and Aunt Monica talked about before bed last night," was how she put things. My face blanked and my mouh opened a couple inches.

"Were you deliberately eavesdropping?" I asked carefully. It made no sense to yell and get mad, both in light of where we were and also the fact that Cindy was a friend, not a random person or some brash teenager. It wasn't as if she was somewhere she wasn't expected to be during my discussion with Monica.

Cindy answered my question with a 'no.' "I guess at least my voice carried," I ventured.

She admitted, "Not really. I just have good ears, and by the time the conversation started, I was into a relatively easy assignment for one of the classes in my therapy degree course. I just tuned one ear in, not on purpose or out of disresrect to either of you."

"Well, I feel awkward. And stupid. Monica was going to give you a broad outline of things so we didn't have to sneak around you, and in the interest of not treating you like the kid we all know you aren't," I said quietly.

"My objective was to approach you personally and let you know that I was aware of things. Don't feel bad. You and Aunt Monica are adults. Friends. You aren't some random guy either of us are meeting for the first time. All three of us are sensible people. What happens between you and Monica is fine with me, Martin," Cindy stated.

"Thank you. That could have been worse, but you are smart, even packing a strong dose of maturity. Understand that I like your aunt a lot, given our friendship over the years. But I respect her more. No matter what happens through this weekend we plan to spend together, I will not hurt or disrespect Monica in any way. I don't think I even have it in me to be mad at her or raise my voice at her. We are gonig to explore, and then go about our lives, and determine if more happens later," I explained.

"She's always been single, never made the effort or took time to date. I'm glad she found somone to share some time with, even temporarily. Besides that, I'm glad it was you," Cindy said.

What happened next I couldn't form a response to, and I said a total of four words just before things slid a little sideways. Cindy walked over to the desk on the far wall and opened the bottom right drawwer. She removed a dark beige towel, unfolding it as she came back to me. She draped it completely over my lap. She unfastened her black slacks, let them drop, and stepped out of them. She pushed them well aside and started sliding out of her pair of lacey white panties.

"Are you sure that's wise?" I asked her.

"It'll be fine," Cindy replied. "I'd like to give you something."

She stepped over and straddled my lap. My first thought was lap dance. Oh, how wrong I was. Carefully, Cindy parked her bare posterrior on the towel, and let herself relax. Abruptly, she passed gas into the towel with a loud, short raspberry, perfectly at ease. She waited several seconds and stood up, still facing me and poised over the towel. She put her hands atop my shoulders and sighed deeply. A long hiss put more gas in the air. I noticed no odor.

Standing there, nude from the waist down, Cindy squatted toward my lap and watched me. Unintentionally, my eyes were fixed in her vaginal area. I idly noticed it was completely shaved. Her shapely, toned legs were easily three and a half feet long. I estimated she might have been an inch taller than Monica. Those lovely legs were serving her well at the moment.

I remained eyeing Cindy's nether regions. Suddenly I noted dark brown beginning to droop from what I could only speculate was her anal opening. I noted Cindy taking a breath, letting it out. I watched her abdomen flex slowly. The brown mass at her anus grew a few inches at the same time. Cindy relaxed, letting her rectal muscle work the rest of her dump out of her. Looking, it was probably more than six inches long. It dropped sideways onto the towel. Whoa. The diameter was healthy right up to the point where it tapered to the end. The smell was pungeant, immediately noticeable. Cindy's 'depsoit' appeared fairly soft, as well.

Cindy retreated back to the desk and opened the bottom left drawer this time. Out came a roll of toilet paper. Cindy unrolled, tore, and wiped clean, and added the used TP to the towel. She put her panties and slacks back on. Carefully, she pulled the ends of the towel together and took it out of my lap. One-handed, she opened the door and poked her head out, checking both directions. It must have been clear, because she disppeared to the right and presumably into one of the two remaining doors. I heard a toilet flush. Obviously, one of the other rooms was a second bathroom.

I then heard the chime of the studio door; Cindy exiting, no doubt. A couple of minutes later, she entered again. Soon she cracked the door to the small storage room and entered. Predictably, I asked, "What'd you do with the towel?"

"In a dumpster, an alley two buildings down," she answered.

"Sneaky," I said, with a careful half-smirk.

"We order replacements and new stock every two or three months. The occasional kinky stunt is no big deal," she volunteered. "That evidence couldn't stay here, though. See? Even skinny chicks take big dumps," she added.

And she was skinny, though not uncomfortably so. She was probably a fit 130 pounds. She got enough sun to give her skin a proper dose of color, not overdone. Her hair was dark brown, but not nearly black, like her aunt's. Cindy wore hers in a very short neck-length bob that left the mass of her hair around the back of her head. I found this very appealing. Cindy had very green eyes contrasting her dark hair.

I inspected myself. No evidence of decidedly dirty deeds. Cindy left the room, and I followed shortly, taking a chair in the front waiting area. Five minutes later, Monica and her client exited and Cindy settled the woman's bill. When she had departed, Monica closed the studio. Cindy grabbed my to-go order from the fridge. As we left out onto the sidewalk, I had my duffel, and Cindy explained to Monica that I had bought dinner. We departed and walked four blocks to Monica's house.

We entered and removed shoes and got the food to the kitchen table and unpacked it. I chose chili, and the ladies chose soup. Each of us had a small salad and two breadsticks. Cindy decided she was still hungry and added a serving of chili.

"Where do you put it all?" I quipped at her.

"Wherever my body decides it fits," she fired back with a sly smile. We finished the meal in silence and disposed of trash. Monica and I did some recreational reading. Both of us drank plenty of water in the next two hours to help the digestive process. An hour after eating, Cindy retreated upstairs to continue her class work.

After Cindy's vanishing act, Monica sniffed things out. "Something happen with Cindy at the shop today?" she asked.

"Well, let's just say you won't have to share with her regarding what you and I decide to do over the course of the weekend." I answered.

"Go on," Monica prompted.

I related how Cindy had admitted to me in discussion in the storeroom that she had overheard Monica and I talking and kept one ear on the conversation. "And you may have competition, or you may have to agree to share," I added. I told her Cindy had taken a dump in my lap in just a couple of minutes. "She may give encore performances," I said. "That ok with you? Maybe it's weird having your neice be involved with a guy you yourself have some desire to be with."

"I never suspected she was into that kinda thing. But like I said, she is a big girl, makes her own way in the world. If she wants to go down this road with a guy, I think I'd prefer it be you," Monica decided. "If t you wanna make love, go ahead. She isn't a virgin, but I'd prefer no conventional sex between you."

"She's attractive, and if she wants to enjoy herself, I wasn't planning on using my standard equipment. I'll stop things if she wants to take a ride," I promised. "But I'll let you ride, if you choose," I added.

She smiled. "I might take you up on that. But right now, I gotta pee. Maybe you'd like to come along?"

"As long as you don't mind, and you're not uncomfortable," I said.

"Hell no...I let you into the bathroom while I took a shit. If I can do that, damn near everythng else should be easy," she retorted, though she waasn't mad at me. "So let's go," Monica said. We crossed the room and entered the bath. Her bottoms and panties came down again, and she settled on the toilet seat.

"Hey, you can come and sit down if you want," she said to me. I moved over and carefully straddled her lap, gently lowering myself so that I faced her. Her bare skin was smooth and lightly tanned. I placed my hands on her shoulders. Monica responded by looping one arm behind me.

With her other hand, she took my left and slid it between her legs. I left one finger on each of her labia. She moved her own hand. Shortly her stream of urine started, as her labia parted. I could feel the pee coursing out of her; there was a slight trembling sensation in her pussy lips while her stream was at it's strongest. Several seconds passed while she emptied herself.

Carefully, I moved my hand and stood, stepping out of her way. Monica wiped and flushed, replaced her clothes, and we washed hands and returned to the living room.

"Well, was it good enough for you? With your hand where it was, did you feel anything interesting while I peed?" she asked.

"It was a good piss. I could feel a little tremor in your labia. I got a mild erection while it happened," came my answer.

"A mild erection. I'll have to ty harder next time," she decided.

i said, "Don't be ridiculous. The intensity of my arousal wasn't lacking because you didn't do your part. It was a partial physical response to a circumstance I hadn't experienced before. I'm not in any way disappointed."

"Well, one bathroom visit down then," Monica said.

The evening had worn on as we had our discussion and the toilet detour, and it was nearing ten o'clock. Monica decided we might want to turn in, and I agreed. She said one more thing before we headed for our respective sleeping areas.

"I have a conference to attend for about four hours tomorrow. Cindy isn't required to be there. It starts at nine, they're serving breakfast, and I should be here again shortly after one."

"I'll start my day after you leave," I decided. With that, the beds called. I turned and thanked Monica for letting me share the bathroom and the toilet with her multiple times. She responded by saynig that things seemed somewhat easier, and that she was growing rapidly more comfortable being together during bathroom activities.

My door closed and I hit the bed, falling asleep very shortly.

Chapter Four

I heard Monica rise a little before eight Saturday morning. She took about forty-five minutes going through her routine and getting a cup of coffee. She was out the driveway in her car by egiht-thirty. I lounged until nine, then washed my face, tended to breakfast and brushed my teeth. I took a fast shower after questioning Cindy about spare towels, the only thing I hadn't brought with me. She was up shortly after me and took more time waking up and starting her day. She returned to her room after a shower in the upper bath. I could hear her walking between rooms.

For a while I lost myself in a book. Eleven o'clock came and I heard Cindy descending the stairs. I closed my book, anticipating that she wanted my attention. I anticipated correctly. She appeared on the lower stair and stepped into the room. "Martin?" she asked, looking into my face. "Nature calls. Maybe you'd like to join me?"

"If you want," I said. Anticipating this kind of thing, I'd put on clothes I didn't mind sacrificing. I left my book and stood to follow her up the stairs. To our immediate left was the den area. To the right was a wall with two doors in it, spaced about four feet apart. Cindy opened and entered the second door, turning on lights. She stepped over and lifted the lid on the toilet. She dropped her jeans and slid her panties to her ankles. She remained bent over for several extra seconds. Of course, I had a fine view of her nicely toned posterior.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it. You have a nice caboose," I said. She looked at me and gave a coy smile and a shimmy of her hips as she parked herself on the porcelain. She beckoned with a couple of fingers. I stepped over and asked if she was sure her legs would hold me, though I was 5'7" and 130 pounds. She assured me we'd be fine. I faced her and settled gently onto her lap.

She immediately leaned in and wrapped her arms around me and rested her chin on my shoulder. She sighed contentedly in my ear and I felt her breathing softly. Shortly I heard a trickle going into the toilet bowl. The trickle built into a strong stream lasting several seconds. This elicited another sigh from Cindy. She kissed my cheek slowly and nuzzled my ear. My standard equipment began to stiffen.

She took and released a deep breath. Suddenly gas trumpeted very loudly into the toilet, and Cindy groaned while it happened. I smelled nothing. Cindy was inhaling again. Her legs shifted just a little under me. Then I could tell she was tensing her stomach. I shifted my hands to her lower back, just above her butt. My erection increased. Breathing out, I felt Cindy pushing. I pictured her anus widening. I could hear her deposit begin to make its way out. She inhaled and slowly tensed again, and I heard her load slide out rapidly and drop heavily into the bowl. I smelled sulfur. My erection was fully active. No complaints whatsoever. Even the odor was bearable.

Cindy was paying wet lip-service to my left cheek again. She shifted toward my lips and used a hand to turn my face just a little. We looked into each other's eyes, and hers seemed to ask permission. Mine gave it, and her lips gently and fully surrounded mine. My mouth opened automatically. Her lips moved more aggressively. Her tongue slid into my mouth, warm and wet. She shifted it around slowly, all the way to the back. My own tongue worked around hers, and eventually our mouths parted.

I stood to move out of Cindy's way. As I did, she reached out and gently cupped my testicles through my shorts, then slid her hand up to rub along my penis and verify the intensity of my hard-on. She removed her hand and I retreated across the small room. Cindy wiped clean and stood, giving her attention to the toilet bowl. I stepped over to have a look as she replaced her clothes. Her dump was probably four inches long, light-colored and soft except for one end, and packing serious diameter.

"Another big one," Cindy said with a grin, stepping over to soap her hands.

"It was healthy," I admitted as I took my turn at the sink. Cindy landed a playful fist in my shoulder and said, "You know it was worth gawking at, and you liked it." She flushed before we left, and returned downstairs.

As we sat, I said, "I'm surprised you didn't leave a present in my lap again."

Cindy answered, "I'm not sure we're equipped to handle that here. Don't know if Monica has any supply of spare linens. So I chose not to. Cleanup can be a pain."

"That's true," I agreed.

"You don't seem like you've had many relationships in your life," Cindy observed.

"I haven't. And I haven't put a ton of effort into finding and maintaining any. I'm very fond of your aunt, but I have no expectations about committment or longevity. I certainly don't want it to feel like a fling for her. It's more of an affectionate experiment," I said.

She continued, "But you liked kissing me?"

"Of course. You''re very good at it. And you certainly have the looks. The bathroom work was definitely enjoyable," I added.

"I've had a bit of a fetish for a few years, but never done anything like that with a guy, before now. Even if I didn't already know you were into it, I might have gotten to that point with you if the two of us were romantically involved. That said, I enjoyed it. It had kind of an erotic sense that gave me a warm, fuzzy kind of feeling. I'm glad you felt somethng too," she finished.