Life of Pits

"Four," I say, and I mean it. For some reason I have always wanted four kids, I just never thought it would happen.

"God, four, wouldn't that be great." She thinks for a moment, "Girls or boys?"

"Three girls, like you and a boy."

"Like you?"

"A boy that can find himself someone like you." She laughs and squirms into me, sending rippling waves against the tub. "But I didn't find you, did I?" I say, "you sort of found me."

She continues to laugh, "And it took me awhile, too." She can see I don't understand. "I read a lot on Literotica, but only the stories written with what I thought were men's names. I was looking for you, someone who is sensitive and loving and interesting and, well, you. When I wrote to you I was hoping to, you know, get you to write back so we could get to know each other. I was ... well, I was kind of hoping ... and then we connected, did you feel it? I knew exactly when we connected. I knew I wanted you almost right from the start. Ask Allie, I told her I was going to marry you the second time you wrote to me, but, really, I knew that was a real long-shot, too, but then we connected and I knew it could happen. The bus trip here was like a magic carpet ride, I was being transported from one life to another." She hesitates, "Maybe it was more like death, like you die and a white light takes you up to heaven. Everything was perfect. And then I'm standing in front of you and you're calling me a child."

"You are, or you look like one."

"I'm tough, Pete, I'm tougher than any child you've ever heard of. Ya, I'm kind of skinny and flat-chested and I'm kind of pixie-looking, well ... you'll see. God, you stink, I had no idea I smelled that bad."

I dip below the surface and rubbed the oily sheen from my face and when I come up she rubs me with a face cloth. "Get used to it, Pits, I love it."

"Let's get us clean, Pete, I want to start working on those babies."

"So, soon ..."

"Hey, what do you get when you add 20 to 35?"

"But, do you want to screw up your youth by having children ..."

She is soaping my body, really rubbing, "I'm ready, Pete, I can't tell you how ready I am to look after you, to look after our children."

When we get out we fight for the towel and I sit on the edge of the tub and rub her dry. She's like an eel, squirming and laughing and she finally escapes and runs from the room. When I find her she's kneeling on my bed, resting on her heels.

"Do you have a camera, Pete?"

"Film or digital?"

"Doesn't matter, I read about this in one of your stories. I really thought it was beautiful. I want to take a picture of us; I want to be able to show it to our daughters and sons, to tell them that this is what we looked like just before we had them."

I go and, for obvious reasons, get the digital camera and when I return to the bedroom she is lying down, her head on the pillow, her legs slightly apart with her hands reaching out to me. I stand at the foot of the bed and focus on her, imagining her leaning beside our daughter, who would look very much like her, discussing the moment before her conception — with Pits I can see that happening, it's as natural as the hair under her arms, which I just now notice, wispy hair, like the hair at her crotch.

I take three pictures of her and when I put the camera on the dresser she springs from the bed and asks me how to work it. At first I can't figure out why but then I realize she wants to take pictures of me, too. I am going to object but how can I, so I focus the camera for her, show her what button to push and I climb on the bed feeling like I am breaking every rule I'd ever learned about common sense. But I am learning that around Pits there can be nothing common about sense, everything always seems a little usual, maybe just a little 'off,' as if I still have a few years to go before I have to grow up. It's really exciting.

She takes a picture then puts the camera down on the dresser and crawls onto the bed but she didn't crawl into my arms, instead, she takes my semi-hard penis in her mouth and sucks on it for a moment until it's stiff, then she quickly jumps from the bed and retrieves the camera, "You look great, Pete. They're going to be so proud of you." The flash goes off three times as I try to make sense of her and then she is on the bed beside me, handing me the camera. "Can you take a picture of when you enter me, Pete, so we can always remember it?"

"Jeez, Pits, I don't know."

She lies down beside me, "Just kneel between my legs; maybe you can point it down. Maybe it will work."

It doesn't so I take a couple of close-ups of her face which I'm surprised to see is etched more in concentration than desire, as if the pictures are more important than the act, then I take a few shots of her nipples which are really stiff and really brown against her flat white chest, then I turn the camera off and put it on the night stand.

"Pete?" She's looking up at me with an almost pained expression. "Can you write about this, put it in our story. I really need to remember this, I really need to remember when we got our first kid. OK?"

"I'll write about it, Pits. Anything else?" The words sound kind of sarcastic to my ear so I'm about to soften them but she interrupts me.

"Ya, let's concentrate on a girl like you want, Pete, you concentrate and I will, too, that way we'll have a better chance. OK?"

I lie down beside her and take her in my arms and hug her tight. "Look, Pits," I say, releasing her, "maybe you're putting too much pressure on yourself, on us. Maybe we should just get to know each other for awhile, enjoy each other, have fun with each other. Maybe it would be better to concentrate of having kids later, you know, next week or next month. Let's just get to know each other and worry about the kids later, OK?"

"Oh, Jeez, sure, Pete, I thought you wanted kids ..."

"I do, and we'll have them, when nature is ready but until then let's ..."

"No, I totally get it, Pete, I just wanted kids now because ... you know, your age but you're right ...," she settles back and spreads her legs a little, almost like this is some sort of ritualistic sacrifice and she looks over at me, "remember to write about this, Pete."

I climb between her legs and gently lie on her and pull her against me, "Are you nervous, Pits?"

"Oh, God, ya, Pete, I want this to be just so perfect for you, I want you to love being in me, put it in me, Pete, let me feel you all the way in me, I want to feel you explode in me ... yes, ... yes deeper, Pete, push through me, oh, God, ya, Pete, deeper ..."

There is love and joy in the little face that looks up at me, and hope and desire. Her lips are moving, she always seems to be talking but I can't hear her, my senses are concentrating on feeling her, feeling me press against her, press into her, feeling her arms tug at my shoulders, her legs dig into my thighs. I know I love her, I knew that when she stepped off the bus. I love her because I want to love her, want to commit myself to her and she wants to love me, that is absolutely clear to me and I guess it is the sudden realization that we really do love each other that causes me to lose it. In an uncontrollable surge of passion I press my lips against hers, stick my wet tongue in her mouth and buck out an orgasm that makes me moan almost in anguish. And then I collapse, like a carcass, inert, unmoving and at her push I flop off her and lie on my back looking at the ceiling but seeing nothing.

I feel her lips on mine, they are sucking and biting, then I feel her tongue poke into my mouth and her groans start. She is squirming, of course, then I feel her straddle me, take my still erect penis and put it in her, then she squirms on it sending me in deeper and when I am fully in she rests on me and shimmers against me, almost imperceptibly.

"It's coming, Pete." She puts her mouth against mine and squeals into me with such force that I can feel her voice vibrate in my throat.

And then she is still. "Don't move, Pete, leave it in there, let everything go to where it's suppose to," she has her head on my chest and she is kissing my nipple. "That was wonderful, really wonderful, for you, too?"

I am softly stroking her back, marveling that for the first time she is quiet and still, "I love you, Pits."

She pushes a little against my semi-hard penis as if trying to encourage it to life. "Do you look at porn pictures on the internet, Pete?"

The question surprises me, "I have, sure."

"I would like it if you don't any more. I'm really jealous of those women, they all have such great bodies, such big breasts, I can never ..."

There is pain in her voice and on her face, "I won't look at them, I'll only look at you. I love your body, Pits, I love the way you feel against me, I love the way you move, the way you smell, the way you squirm and I love being in you. You don't have anything to be jealous about, Pits."

"Will you get me the bras and panties so I can be sexy for you?"

"You don't need them, Pits, you're sexy without them."

"But I'll feel sexier, Pete, can we go and get them?"

"Sure, whenever you want."

"Let's go this afternoon and maybe we could look at bathtubs, too."

"Bathtubs?"

"We want to get you one that has those water jets that will massage you, Pete, remember we talked about it. You said we had enough money to get you one."

"We have enough money, Pits, we have enough for anything you want."

"Anything?"

I laugh, perhaps a little nervously, "Well, within reason."

"Well, I have to get around, shopping, to my courses ..."

"You'll need a car, sure, we'll get you one ..."

"Oh, jeez, I don't want a car, Pete, but I'd sure love a bike, the one I have at home is so old the frame is bend and so is the front wheel. I could get it but it ..."

"You should probably get a car, Pits ..."

"No, I won't drive a car, a bike is what I'd like, a nice one that I can hitch on a wagon-thing to pull the the kids, and the groceries."

"Maybe we should get you a car ..."

"No car, Pete, I don't believe in them. Maybe later we can talk about yours."

I have never shopped for woman's lingerie and Pits hasn't either but it was far from a case of the 'blind leading the blind:' she knew precisely what she wanted, and what she wanted was my approval. I could have given my thumbs up to the most uncomfortable, most impractical undergarment ever devised and it would have been be OK with her. Pits and the saleswoman made it really easy for me and I think I would have quickly gotten over my embarrassment had Pits not looked so young. But, instead, I felt like a lecherous, dirty old man and I was happy to be out of the store, but I was happy for Pits, too, because she was so excited — and her excitement was contagious.

I am thinking of this in our usual Monday afternoon planning session when there's a knock on the conference room door and Pits walks in. I think she must have thought it was my office because she stops, obviously stunned there are nine people in the room. Her eyes quickly scan the table, landing on me, "Oh, sorry, Pete, I didn't mean to barge in."

I stand up and am going to walk over to her but she holds up her hand to stop me. "No, I don't want to interrupt, I just wanted to tell you that I've picked out a bathtub and a bike and I wanted to tell you that my classes start on Thursday, but I can do that later, Pete, sorry to interrupt you, I'll go." This all happens so fast I don't really have time to react. But at the door she turns back, "The woman out there said that this is your company, Pete, that this is your building. Is that true?"

"Ya, Pits, it's ours and I want these people to meet you."

She doesn't hesitate, she walks up to the nearest person, sticks out her hand, looks him square in the eye and says, "Hi, I'm Pits Kimmel."

Chapter 3

We were lying on the bed on Sunday morning and I was watching Pits' lips move as she read my story.

"Why did you end with that boardroom scene, I mean, why not end in bed or something?"

"I wanted to show our commitment to each other in ways other than just physical. I wanted the readers to understand that we really love each other, otherwise the story would be sort of pointless, like just a long physical experiment with no ending."

She put the pages down and leaned into me, kissing me gently on the lips, "I get it. Should we post it?"

"It's up to you, Pits, it's your story."

She snuggled into me with her head on my shoulder, "I was thinking."

I've know Pits for almost a month now and was getting to know her character tics; she often wanted encouragement. "Thinking? About what?"

"About our kids. They're going to want to know a lot about their heritage, right? I mean, they will probably want to know a lot about their parent's life — when they get older." She looked up at me with that intense look that meant she had put a lot of thought into what she was about to say. "Maybe we should keep a journal of some of the things we do so they can read about them later."

"Do you really think they'll care, Pits?"

"Oh, God, yes, sure they'll care, Pete, they'll totally care."

Thinking about my own parents I was entirely less sure, "What kind of journal did you have in mind?"

She tapped on the pages beside her, "This kind of journal."

I wasn't sure I knew what she meant, "You want our kids to read this story?"

"Ya, this ones and the others you will write about us. What do you think?"

I though she was nuts, "This is kind of personal, isn't it? Do you want your kids reading about how we had sex, stuff like that?"

"Well, not until they've grown up, but sure, that's exactly what I want, I want them to know about how we fell in love and how we loved each other. Why not?"

"It's kind of personal, Pits, some things are best not talked about."

"Our family is personal, too, Pete, that's what a family is. I want my kids to know about us, how much we love each other, how much we love them. I think we should write about our life together and post the stories on Literotica so they will be able to read them when they get older."

"But Literotica just wants sex stories ..."

"That's what'll give them, stories about how we love each other, like the stories you've already written, except they'll be real, they'll be about us, what we do together. Sex can be love, too, Pete. Your old stories were about sex pulled from your imagination, I think we should get rid of all of those. The new stories will be about us and how we use sex to love each other. Why wouldn't the kids want to know about that?"

I couldn't really understand where she was going with this. "But what do you want to write about, Pits? Do you have anything in mind?"

"Sure I do, like we've already discussed, I want for us to do together all the things you've already written about in your Literotica stories. I want us to do those things together, to make all the things from your imagination kind of come true."

Pit's could be bizarre at times and this was obviously one of those times. My stories had been about incest, lesbianism, groups, fetishes, hardly the stuff you want your kids to read about. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't say anything.

We were quiet for a few minutes but I could hear Pits' mind ticking over, I could feel her thinking. She jumped from the bed and hurried from the room and came back in a minute with a pitcher of water and two full glasses. Before she got back into bed she put the pitcher on the bed stand and handed a glass to me and drank her glass almost in a single guzzle. "Come on, Pete, drink up."

"I haven't even had my coffee yet," I protested.

"You can have your coffee later, when you're writing the story."

"What story?"

"The peeing story."

"What peeing story?"

"We're going to drink all this water then pee on each other like in your story, come on."

"Come on, Pits, Jeez."

"What's the matter? Your story was about love; in your story peeing was an act of love. I want to do it, with you. Don't you?"

"I don't know, Pits, I never intended to actually do it, just to write about it."

"And you did write about it. I was disgusted at first, but you made it sound really loving so I want to try it with you, so drink up."

"Ah, Jeez, Pits."

"What? Don't you want to do it with me?"

"It's sort of ... kinky."

"Maybe but you made it sound really loving, too and I think it can be, and I want to do it with you, so drink up — we can't do this on an empty bladder."

Right from the beginning of our relationship it had become absolutely clear to me that if she wanted something, she got it, I just didn't have it in me to resist her, for two reasons: her passion for something is always greater than my resistance to it, and she is a little Pit Bull: she just won't let go. I drank, one glass, then another and most of a third.

When she climbed onto me I felt like a water-logged blimp but I loved her heat and I loved the way she slithered across me, that never failed to excite me. She kissed me in the way that she does, gently, with wet lips and a little tongue and then I felt it, or at least I thought I did, a little wetness in my crotch. I wasn't really sure what had happened until I saw her smile.

I guess she saw my look of surprise because she said, "Just a little." She kissed me again, longer and more passionately this time, "How did it feel?"

A few weeks ago I couldn't get a date, now I was lying in my bed with a woman I adored and she had just peed on me. "It felt warm and wet and intimate, Pits, and naughty and exciting ..."

"Ya, that's what I felt, too, excitement. Imagine pissing on someone. Come on," she was off the bed and pulling at my arm and I was going with her, wondering how I was going to pee on someone I loved — and with a growing hard-on.

"Who's first?" She was standing beside our new bath tub, which I had discovered has almost enough jets to lift my body out of the water.

"I don't think I could pee on you, Pits."

"Sure, you can. I'll show you how. Get in and lie down."

I did as directed and noticed my hard-on was now virtually complete and why not, she was standing over me, her nipples as stiff as my prick with a look of utter concentration on her face, as if she was trying to remember how it happened in the story I'd written. "I've never aimed before, Pete, don't know if I can. Are you ready, and remember, you have to write about this?"

"Pits?"

"Ya?"

I was feeling really uncomfortable with this, "Can you just lie on me and go, so I can hold you?"

She seemed a little relieved at my suggestion, "Ya, sure I can, Pete."

She was in my arms and I was holding her tight against me with my lips pressed against her forehead. She let out a little at first and when I felt it hot against my leg I felt a sexual jolt surge through me, "Let it come, Pits," and I pulled on her bum to bring her higher on me so I could feel her wet heat on my belly but I guess she wanted to watch because she pushed up off the end of the tub and brought her knees up beside me and she was looking down, watching her urine spread out onto my chest. I could see her concentration was gone now, there was a look of fascination on her face and it really got to me. I took her by the waist and lifted her up so I could see her and when I did, she brought her knees up and I tilted her back so the golden stream was spilling onto my chest and then I kind of lost it and pushed her back further until I could feel her urine drilling into my face, splashing into my eyes and nose and mouth in a shower of intimacy that made me moan.

At first I thought the moans were hers but when I looked up at her through eyes stinging with pee I could see she was looking at the source of the shower and she had shock in her eyes as if she was watching something unbelievable. And now I looked too and watched the the golden stream slow then dissipate as the last dribbles fell from her hair and then I pulled her to me and pressed my face into her slim white belly.