Wet

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She masturbates to thoughts of prostitutes and watersports.
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Are you horny? Are you wet? You’re so lucky. I never knew the value of a wet pussy till I started doing porn. It’s days like today, when I was lying on G’s bed, camera rolling and completely dry, that make me feel sorry for myself and for porn consumers everywhere.

We wrapped, no orgasm, and I got back on the T to go home. My smeared slut make-up was magnified behind my glasses, looked out of place with my baggy jeans. I elbowed my way into a seat, put my backpack in my lap, wrapped my arms around it and zoned out. My eyes were closed but I was still aware of the voices around me, the soft chattering from the others on the train and the insistent whine in my own head: That sucked, that sucked, I hate faking it, I can’t act.

I got home and lay down on my futon, felt the kind of tiredness that scares me: the kind that’s so powerful it grabs you and shakes your thoughts out of your head, steals your consciousness, drowns you.

I pulled the edge of my comforter around me and closed my eyes.

The night before, I had fucked myself so wildly it almost hurt. It was a weird night anyway. I was going to have to meet Grif at his apartment at 7:30 am, so we could block the lobby scenes before the doorman got there. I was going to go to bed early. I couldn’t sleep. I grabbed my keys and started walking, came back an hour later, dizzy and cold.

My bed felt so nice. Cuddled into blankets on a fall night, lying on my stomach, arms around my pillow.

Does it suck that THIS is when I’m the most horny? That THIS is when my fingers creep down and do their work?

I began to lightly tap my clit. Little strokes, quick and easy, setting the scene. In my head, I was thinking of fantasies, thinking of porn I’ve read.

I was thinking of watersports.

I was in the woods with my girlfriend. She had to pee. She squatted. Scene changed. I was thinking of a teenaged girl with a wet patch between her thighs. I was thinking of desperate chicks in an interminable ladies’ room line. I was thinking of three prostitutes in an alley. Oh God, yes. Three prostitutes in an alley. Jack-off classic since twelfth grade.

It’s a humid summer night in Washington, DC. Gray building walls, dumpster, bad part of town. They’re waiting for their pimp to pick them up and take them home.

Lisa is squirming in her skin-tight cut-off jean shorts. She looks like a Barbie doll. Big breasts squeezed into a neon-green crocheted crop top. Blond hair. Light-colored eyes. She has a habit of holding it too long, till she has no choice but to get creative in her relief. She enjoys it. I’ve whacked to her hundreds of times.

Once, when she wasn’t working, she was wandering around the Mall, near the Smithsonian, on that yellow sandy-gravelly path, when she desperately had to go. It was that same summer, and she was wearing the same outfit, teetering on high-heeled white sandals. She tried going into a convenience store, but the restrooms were for employees only, and she couldn’t convince the disapproving-looking clerk otherwise. She left and wandered down the block, feeling the pressure build, wanting to put her hand between her legs and hold it there. She vowed to resist.

She walked on, looking for a bathroom, knowing she wouldn’t find one, eyeing alleyways and patches of vegetation for possibilities. She remembered watching a man piss in a garden in front of an office building, his back to the street, and she wished she had the equipment and the nerve.

Lisa moaned softly. She had no hope now. She glanced around before dashing down the ramp into a small unattended parking garage. She managed to make it behind a car before squatting, but she had to go so bad she couldn’t wait to pull down her shorts. She realized too late that she had been pressing her hand against her crotch at the end there, but not before the stream had already started, and she wound up peeing on her hand. But she didn’t care. Her hands had seen worse, and right then she was completely overwhelmed with the sensation of warmth flooding out of her, gathering in the crotch of her underwear and shorts before splashing down on the asphalt in a thick stream.

But this time, here in the alley with her co-workers, her predicament isn’t her fault. It is orchestrated.

“I can’t believe he does this!” Tammi exclaims. Tammi is new at this, she’s a cute urban chick, with short brown hair. She’s further down in the alley, leaning against the wall, frequently shifting her weight and hopping up and down.

“I know how you feel, believe me,” Lisa says. “I mean, I do it outside so much I don’t care anymore, though. It gets guys off. You know, to do it in public. But that’s how I got arrested the first time. Wasn’t for soliciting.”

“I know, I know,” Tammi snaps. “Big D gave me the whole fucking speech, ‘Blah blah blah, no bathroom breaks, piss in the alleys, piss in front of the johns…’ But it’s fucking inhuman! It’s uncivilized. And there is NOTHING open in this fucking town at this hour.” She crosses her arms in front of her chest and taps her foot. “And he’s always motherfucking late. Fucking shithead.”

Lisa wants to hold out in solidarity with Tammi, but she is also increasingly desperate, and the thought of slipping back into the alley and relieving herself sounds better than all the sex she’s had that evening combined.

At that moment, Giselle arrives, flustered. “He hasn’t come yet, has he?” she asks breathlessly.

“Which one?” Tammi shouts back, and she and Lisa laugh.

“Ha ha, ladies. Big D. Guess he’s later than I am. I got the dough, though. And I really gotta pee.”

Giselle, an attractive black lady in a tight purple dress, heads straight back into the alley.

“Nooo, don’t!” Cries Tammi. “You’ll throw off all my concentration! I’ll never make it if you pee.”

“Make it where?” Giselle wrinkles her brows.

“Back home, ho! I’m not going in no alley!”

Giselle looks at her as if she’s nuts. “OK, girlfriend: First off, I don’t even know why you got such a problem with it, but regardless, Big D is fucking late and it’s gonna take at least a half hour to get home from here. So you best do your thing, or else you’ll wind up pissing his leather interior.”

Tammi moans in frustration. “You’re so right.”

Meanwhile Lisa is in her own world of agony. “Giselle, I’m with you honey. I have got to GO.”

“Well, at least go into another alley then, wimps. I’m holding out. Or holding in. Whatever.” Tammi returns to her arms-crossed posture.

“Fine.” Giselle and Lisa stumble, bladders aching, into the next alley. This one is even filthier, darker and more narrow than the last.

“Oooh, this is gonna feel so good,” Giselle doesn’t even need to pull up her dress. She just leans against the wall and spreads her legs. “Come over here with me, girl. I don’t wanna be here in the dark by myself.”

Lisa leans against the wall directly opposite Giselle, facing her, completely unashamed. She’s surprised that the sight of Giselle’s pretty hair-covered pussy is making her squirm, but it’s true. She begins to finger her clit as she thinks of how nice it would be lick Giselle’s pussy.

“What, you playing with yourself now?” Giselle barks. “Just pee. I won’t till you will.”

But Lisa is already well on her way to orgasm. The combination of her swollen full bladder, Giselle’s pussy, and her own fingers on her clit are just too much to bear.

“Girl, you turning me on,” Giselle says quietly. “And I ain’t even no dyke.”

Giselle decides she can hold it for one more minute, enough time to slide up next to Lisa and kiss her on the lips, and add her fingers to those already stroking Lisa’s clit.

“I wanna get you off, baby.” Giselle whispers. “Ladies so pretty when they come. Much nicer than men. But you better come quick sweetheart, cuz I have to pee SO BAD.” Giselle strokes and kisses until everything in Lisa bubbles up and she comes loud and pees in an amazing dam-burst, splashing all down Giselle’s legs and onto the alley floor.

Giselle cannot hold it in one second longer, but feeling Lisa’s piss-orgasm has gotten her so horny she can’t even break contact. She rubs her pussy against Lisa’s now soaked shorts, feeling the wet of the fabric rough next to her soft pussy lips. Lisa kisses Giselle and moves her arms to embrace her, brushing Giselle’s belly, which is all her overtaxed bladder can stand. “I’m gonna pee right now,” she says, and sure enough hot liquid is pouring out of her crotch, splashing on Lisa. Giselle’s stream goes on and on, and Lisa is relishing the feeling of them warmth dripping down her legs, the force of the urine from Giselle’s bladder tickling her clit.

Meanwhile, Tammi has come to a decision. “That bastard. I’m gonna give him what he deserves.” And, thankfully, Big D pulls up in his pimped-out van shortly after. He honks, and is greeted by Tammi, hopping and jumping on the curb, hand squeezed between legs, hissing at him to unlock the door, let her the fuck in, and drive.

“Where are your friends?” he demands.

Lisa and Giselle emerge piss-soaked and bleary-eyed from the next alley.

“Get IN!” Tammi shouts. “I’m going right now! I mean, we’re going right now!”

They all scramble into the car. Though Big D is more than an hour late, he won’t take any dawdling from them.

Tammi settles into a seat in the very back row of the van, while Giselle and Lisa cuddle each other and kiss in one of the front seats.

“That’s nice, girls,” Big D says, checking them out in the rear-view mirror. “Just don’t go dyke on me now.”

In the back, Tammi is slowly and luxuriously letting every drop of urine in her poor tortured bladder pour out onto Big D’s upholstery. Her pants are wet, but she doesn’t care. She has been peeing for a full minute. There’s so much pee around her that it pools and dribbles over the edge of the seat, onto the carpeting of the van. She laughs to herself and spreads her legs wider apart, letting the stream pour directly over the edge like a waterfall.

Lisa thinks she’s imagining the soft pissing sound she hears, but when she turns to investigate, her mouth gapes and her eyes bug out.

“Tammi,” she mouths. “You’re doing it!”

Tammi nods and gives Lisa a full view of the pee still flowing from her. All the girls know Lisa is a watersports fanatic.

In bed, I’d had both my hands working me, rubbing back and forth, from my clit down my lips and back. It felt so good, the tightening of the muscles in my whole cunt, that I was in that wonderful place that doesn’t always happen during masturbation: I didn’t want to come because every stroke felt like heaven. The moans that came from me were deep and real, my face pressed into the pillow was flushed and my hair was a mess. I felt the glory of my hands for a few more strokes, friction that set my whole body on fire, before I came like the porn star I’d hoped to be: with the soft panting and the pleasure vibrating in my throat, pure joy and dripping pussy.

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