Lisette's Backthere Adventure Ch. 03

And then she feels a cramp.

It's strong and it's not the only one. Lisette winces and clenches hard because she's sure this isn't more gas. She gets another twitch, feels herself starting to sweat, starts feeling that this is getting urgent. She holds her breath, leans carefully on one cheek, does a slow spin and gets her feet on the floor. Ugh, she really has to go bad.

And maybe she said that out loud, because Joel hops off the bed to get the bathroom door open. Which helps, but Lisette's got to get there first. And that jostling nearly opened her up.

She braces herself, gets to her feet. Bending over doesn't help, standing straight doesn't either. Clench hard, take quick little shuffling steps, stare at the floor, hold on.

Joel slides out of her way, chirps: "I always feel so elegant when I use that toilet!"

Lisette's not feeling elegant at all. And when she hears the word 'toilet', it's over. But just as the poop passes her sphincter, she spins around - so lucky! - her butt hits the seat. She gets her hair bunched up in front of her just in time.

**

The desperation and the release and the relief and the endorphin rush. She lets out a long slow breath. She feels Joel rubbing her back and her sides and her tum, petting her and kissing her neck and throat, behind her ear, her closed eyes.

Joel's whispering about the scent of fruit orchards in a grassy field. Lisette's thinking 'stinky' but she feels really good right now and thinking stinky but sort of earthy and like overripe fruit. She feels more, spreads her legs wider, feels it slide out of her, slick and spongy.

An (oops!) unexpected fart startles her and she peeks open her eyes. Twelve hours ago this fantasy zipped through her mind in her masturbation slide show, and now here it is. The fantasy room was bit brighter and cooler, sure, but the fantasy didn'thave her feeloing so... elegant.

The bathroom's nicely warm and lit indirectly from sconces. The opaque pebbled glass windows are have subtle patterns in pastels, the floor looks like those hand painted porcelain tiles that Queen Victoria liked.

All the frames and wainscotting is blond hardwood of some kind, the mirror has that antique-y tint that Lisette thinks is likely genuine. The steam radiator's cast iron and the fittings on the pedestal sink and the clawfoot tub are all nickel. And Lisette expects that when she looks behind her, she'll see one of those pull-chain commodes with the tank up above on the wall.

"See? Told ya! Elegant, right? Don't you feels good here?"

Lisette feels very good indeed, though reality's setting in and her backside's feeling a little sticky. There's only a tiny dribble of pee - after the sweaty bike ride and all the drooling into Joel's buttcrack, she's pretty dry - and she reaches for the roll.

"Wait." Joel has her by the wrist. "Let me."

Lisette's fantasy last night hadn't been much more than a quick bit of dreamy consensual voyeurism. Here are the sights and smells and feels and she definitely hadn't thought of Joel taking care of this part.

She hears the paper tear off, hears "lean forward", and it doesn't take a second to get used to this peculiar attention. Joel's kissing her as she presses and rubs on her bottom and it's like she's inside her from here to there, way different from even the best buttsex with a guy who knows how to kiss.

Again she wonders who's the domme and who's the sub.

**

They're sitting on the bed, Joel behind Lisette, brushing her hair.

"I'm so jealous!" She drops the brush, puts her hand in Lisette's crotch. "And your bush too! So soft and thick. If mine grew like this I wouldn't shave either."

Lisette scooches up, puts her hand over Joel's, pushes her closer. Having her hair brushed is a real turnon for Lisette. So much so that she's been really really close to really really embarrassing herself in more than one stylist's chair. Not a problem here. Her hair probably feels soft because it's soaking wet.

"My shorties barely come in at all," Joel says. "And what does is like thick gauge wire."

Lisette reaches back, traces a finger along Joel's smooth soft mound and little pink peekouts. 'Jealous!' she wants to echo. Down there, Lisette looks pretty much the same as the day she was born, just a slit. She runs her finger back the other way, surprised that Joel's as wet as she is.

"Hey!" they say at the same time. "You're in the mood again already?"

**

It must have registered subconsciously, something their brains stored up during their First Kiss: the size match. Because without much preliminary, they're slithering around each other and - for the first time ever in their whole lives - successfully fit into that numerically-nicknamed position.

For the first time ever in their whole lives they're not frustrated by what seems like something that'd work but never really does, and even then a lot of times one of you has organs on the outside and one has organs on the inside and...

But if you're exactly the right size and your gear is compatible, there's none of that awkwardness, no stretching or stooping, no distracting Twister angles. Just the excitement of their First Time,

The clock on the night table ticks and a rainstorm starts and ends as they give each other this particular version of their virginity.

** Every character in this story is well above the legal age to do what they are described doing. Any resemblance to any person living or dead is coincidental. **