Mother & Step-Daughter Piss Fetish

"I mean," Therese confided, "I got my teeth fixed but... without this padded bra I still go straight up and down like a beanpole."

"Oh, it must be so hard for you, being tall and thin and sexy. My heart bleeds for you."

"Aw Micki, my love, you just can't see how beautiful you are."

"Hah."

"You're just as cute as a button."

Michaela looked into her step-mother's eyes to see if she was being conned. Therese held her gaze. She raised her hand and lightly caressed her step-daughter's chubby cheek.

"You're so pretty, you... you just don't know it yet."

A braying voice from the patio doors interrupted their solemn moment, more voices joined in to beckon the party hostess.

"Duty calls," Therese stood up and turned.

"Mum, your, er, hose. They're all, er."

"Aren't my seams straight?" Therese twisted awkwardly trying to see the back of her own legs.

"Just this one."

"Which?"

"Erm."

Michaela reached out and softly touched a silky, mesh covered thigh.

"Ooh, thanks,"

Therese fiddled with the lovely elasticated band until Michaela had to agree the seam was once again following its correct path up her ankle, curving over her calf, crinkling slightly the back of her knee before ascending up her thigh. The dark-brown seam ran like a river though the most glorious geography. Michaela felt her mouth moisten.

"Ooop, I've got some smut on my Louboutins. Better not let them spoil, paid a fortune for these."

Therese bent over to wipe earth from her shoes and Michaela was rewarded with the sight of the short dress rising to reveal a pair of dark purple panties. In a seeming slow-motion, the girl inspected the woman's voluptuous, unflabby bottom and her tantalising cotton crotch; she could clearly see a darker patch of purple at the curve of her step-mother's labia.

Therese straightened up and smoothed down her dress, "Wewf, headrush! Thanks for talking to me, Micki, we... we don't often, do we?"

Michaela blushed crimson and turned away, speechless.

*******

Michaela was getting hungry. She wanted to go inside to hunt out some food but couldn't face all those annoying 'dults. They'd be nice to her face but when passing, and thinking she was out of earshot, they'd make snide comments about her appearance. 'Oh, yes, Therese has tried to do something with her adopted heffalump,' etc. The patio doors swung open and a trio of men staggered out, guffawing at their own hilarity and stood at the edge of the garden to piss.

Michaela felt a growing disgruntledness at her own social diffidence but was rescued by her step-brother. Decked out in his junior version of a dinner-jacket and dickie-bow, he walked down the lawn carrying a plate and a can of soda.

"Mum said to bring you these," he said, spitting the words with all the spiteful distaste he could muster.

Michaela glared at him and he slunk away. Although her feelings towards Therese had taken a radical u-turn, relations with her son would remain as intractably uncordial as those between Israel and Palestine. She happily munched the sandwiches and chocolate cookie while lost in a daydream as the evening dusk finally began to give way to a mid-summer night.

The oldsters must've dipped into their marijuana stash, she thought, because Led Zeppelin was wafting out of the open doors and windows. She quite liked the old-fashioned hippy rock but all those lyrics about hunting little schoolgirls made her uneasy. She began to ignore the trickle of lone men who meandered out into the garden to micturate over the hyacinths.

Her bubble of meditation was popped by the voice of her step-mother. She turned to see her with another old friend, walking arm-in-arm down the lawn. Therese was seven inches shorter now she'd abandoned her stilettos; although parading in her stockinged feet she was still much taller than the friend she was holding on to. They were both visibly drunk and Michaela couldn't resist smiling broadly as they zig-zagged nearer.

Therese looked genuinely moved by the affection she was being shown by her usually cheerless step-daughter. Michaela thought about what a miserable cow she'd been for the last few years. She was a jumble of conflicting emotion. Perhaps she was growing up? The women climbed in amongst the bushes. After a minute there were complaints about the prickly plants.

"Yep, that's the juniper," Therese slurred, "It sure does tickle your bum!"

There was laughter and then, in the red-twig bushes' acknowledged gap, appeared the familiar pair of dark-brown nylons. This time, however, Therese did not turn to an alluring but obtuse angle, she deliberately, flauntingly, posed in the direction of her step-daughter. Michaela's jaw literally dropped. She goggled as this woman who'd invaded her dreams pulled her purple panties over to the side then hunched down and pissed through the hedge's hole.

Michaela was sure she could scent the perfume of the arcing clear spheres of pee as they dashed on to the closing flower petals. It was a brief pee and over way too soon. Such a short moment in time would be forever scored on the young woman's imagination.

Therese got her underwear and then her dress composed correctly and then there was a pause before both women helped each other climb out of the shrubbery. Walking past, Michaela saw her step-mother give her a tiny wink and a cheeky, shy smile.

Michaela gazed at nothing. Her brain failed to comprehend what had just happened. Her reflexes took over. She walked up the sloped lawn, in through the open double doors, through the mass of doped and drinking adults and on, finally to her bedroom. She sat on the edge of her bed in an astonished suspension.

A brief memory kindled and she got up and left her room, walked down the hall and, luckily, found the bathroom unoccupied. She lifted the lid of the laundry basket. She smiled a wild and secret smile as she picked up Therese's soiled yellow knickers and hid them up her top. She walked back to her room and leaned back against the closed door. She raised her skirt and pushed her hand down into her own panties, her fingers eased easily into her slimy slit.

She was surprised at how wet she was. Her knees went weak as her fingers danced inside her but she could do nothing but try to fulfil the demands of her begging pussy, it was aching to be touched.

After a few minutes of frantic fingering, the wave of urgency subsided enough for her to strip and get into bed. Naked, she ran her hands over her skin. For once she wasn't repulsed by her own bulging curves. She felt sensuous and newly erotic. Her fingers slid over her light bush then dived between her lips. Her hand pressed on the hood of her clit and she rotated her palm, relishing how it sent pleasure coursing through her body.

She laid her step-mother's grimy, stained cotton panties across her pillow and pressed her nose to them. The smell was fainter now but her hot breath was reactivating the aromas. She kissed the discoloured gusset.

She was lost in her icky infatuation. Her unwashed body in the warm cocoon of the bed was no longer hers, but Hers. She lifted her arm and smelled her armpit and it was Her sweat. She lifted her cummy fingers and sniffed Her pussy on the skin of her knuckles. She licked the tips of her fingers. Her self-exploration up until now had always been sporadic and inept but now, for the first time, an overwhelming lust was driving her to fingerbang with a intensity that was almost scary. What was this powerful spell she was under?

She had crushed on women before but, perhaps because she never thought she would have the confidence to pursue the person in reality, her longings had been distant and intellectual. But now, here... this woman was in her life already, in her home, in her bathroom. In her bed, by proxy. She could taste palatable pussy flavour as she breathed in the scent of Therese's dirty underwear.

She frigged away until her pleasure rose to a tipping point of ferocity. It was always at this point of almost losing control that she halted and allowed the scarily forceful sensations to descend back to a safe and manageable contentment. She curled up and enjoyed surfing the fluttering waves of warm feeling flooding through her. After a while, she slept.

*******

It was late, beyond late. Therese was wedged on the crowded couch between guests. Music was playing low, conversations were confidential and easy-going with the last of the stragglers being comfortable friends. She was letting her mind wander but was present enough to nod along half-heartedly when the discussion edged her way. She was seeing herself in a new light. She'd never considered herself particularly attractive; she knew she could dress up in a recognisably sexy way and she knew how to artifice style and elegance but, underneath, she remained that beanpole who was teased relentlessly as a child. Recently though she'd begun to see herself through the eyes of a short, pudgy twenty year-old girl who had clearly developed a fascination for her.

She stretched out one long finely-shaped leg and wiggled her toes under the reinforced dark nylon tip while imagining how a girl with dumpy legs would be envious and yet enticed by her body. Would she want to touch my legs? Run her hands up my calves to my thighs? Would she... Therese noticed the man in the opposite chair was leering at her leg exercises and the revealed view up her short dress. She flashed him a polite but fuck-you smile and adjusted to a more modest pose.

Having her thighs pressed together by the crush of gesticulating gossipers on the couch allowed her to enjoy the secret thrill of her pee-damp panties being partially glued to her sticky labia; every slight movement caused a frisson of private friction. She took a drag on a passing doobie then leaned back against the couch and began to conflate past girlfriends in a remembrance spurred by Michaela's obvious crush.

Darla, her first ever girlfriend, was short, stocky and looked not unlike her husband's cute daughter; they'd never progressed further than high-school hand-holding with a few cautious kisses. Kanika, the first girl ever to make her come, was a chocolate-coloured chubby college girl who'd had faster fingers than a Nintendo world champion; Michaela's ass rolled when she walked with the exact same geographical magnitude as Kanika's had, like two vast hills colliding and re-colliding.

Lately she'd found herself unable to look away whenever her step-daughter exited a room. She imagined having that wide, round bottom in her hands. Therese's memories of lezzy adventures always lead to Penny, her great lost love. The idea of bathing in those memories while squished between bozos on their couch annoyed her so she got up and made her excuses to retire.

In her own bathroom, that had remained free of half-filled wine glasses and cigarette butts, she hiked up her dress and peeled off her gloopy knickers; they tried to remain stuck to her lips as she pulled and there was a brief but thrilling tension before they finally detached. She high-kicked them off her foot and nearly fell backwards through the door. Laughing, she steadied herself on the wash basin and gazed into the mirror. What she saw was twenty years ago.

Penny was her first big crush and shared Michaela's spiky demeanour. Therese had always leaned towards a liking for unhygienic girls and she wondered if that was why she favoured hefty, sweaty ones. Penny had been the first person to give her a taste of pee. After their college degrees were completed they'd taken off together for a back-packing tour of Europe and Therese, feeling an exhilarating freedom from responsibility, had fallen even deeper in love with this green-eyed, pink-haired, pierced and fearless young woman.

They'd been staying in a cheap hostel in Amsterdam and, having dynamited their brains with a range of marijuanas in a near-by coffee-shop, had returned to their room hungry and horny. They'd feasted on caramel cookies and then on each other. It was while Therese had been happily ensconced between her lover's wobbly thighs, pressing her tongue inside her tight, hairless pussy with savage swirly motions she knew would have Penny climbing up the wall in a lust-fuelled frenzy, that her cannabis-blitzed girlfriend paused and tensed.

Therese had looked up, sensing something was wrong and Penny had said just one word, 'Sorry,' before unleashing a torrent of hot clear piss into her face. First had come the surprise that it was happening, it had happened so many times in her day-dreams that her stoned brain was unsure of reality; second had come the surprise at how she'd reacted.

Therese recalled vividly how she'd seized her opportunity and opened her mouth for the spraying jet to fill it. Closing her lips to swallow, the warm pee had soaked her face. She'd had to close her eyes against the splashing, stinging drops. She'd rolled the citrus flavour around on her tongue. A slight acidity in her throat then she'd opened up for more. Penny had been protesting and trying to wriggle free but Therese had gripped her thighs with a wrestler's strength, lapping at her gushing pee-hole and swallowing and letting it wash over her.

It had been the most exciting moment of her life. Later, Penny had been so freaked out that they'd shared a long, silent taxi ride to Rotterdam airport before taking separate flights home.

Therese stood in her bathroom, the loose threads of memory dangling before her. For a second she failed to recognise the tired middle-aged woman in the mirror. Why was she thinking of this now? Was it the wine and hash? That cute young girl who kept shyly staring at her... was she imagining things? Seeing things that weren't there?

Her palm was gently massaging her clitoris, a comforting reflex action. She turned to examine her body in the mirror. Bleary eyes took in the vision of her bunched up dress showing off her toned pair of peachy buttocks above what she thought of as her best assets: her long, languid legs that she always noted men lusting after. They were suckers for stockings. Did Micki feel the same way?

She stroked her tummy that took so much effort to keep flat these days, her hand slid down through her sparse pubes and two of her fingers opened her sticky petals. She toyed with her sensitive lips as she remembered losing Penny.

It had been a traumatic time. She'd analysed it over and over again and had come to the conclusion that it was partly the accidental piss but also being far from home, the heavy drug use and that Penny had already been sulking a lot. While in Belgium, they'd been invited to a party and Penny had discovered Therese wasted on ketamine, kissing and jerking off a really, really cute boy from Antwerp. Her heart ached as she recalled Penny's face screwed up in anger, yelling at her in the quiet cobbled streets. To this day she wasn't sure what had upset her more, the kissing or the wanking.

"Erm, Mum?"

The voice behind her caused Therese to stumble drunkenly and her brain, for a few seconds, went completely to mash potato. Flustered, she clumsily pulled down the short hem of her dress. She turned to see Michaela in one of the long tee-shirts she wore in bed, running her fingers through the fronds of her untameable curly hair.

"Yes, my darling?" Therese tried to appear not intoxicated, "You okay? Did the party keep you up?"

"No. I was sleeping, but..."

Therese had been caught off-guard and nervously started making a mess of her make-up removal routine.

"Are you busy?" Michaela asked softly.

"No, no, just... taking all this crap off. These cheek-bones don't just happen by magic, you know?"

Therese laughed, it sounded too loud in the bathroom's echo.

"I, um, wanted to..."

"What's that, honey?"

Michaela had been almost inaudible so she gathered courage and spoke up.

"I wanted to say, I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Therese put down the orange-black smeared cotton-wool swab, "Sorry for what?"

Michaela crossed one arm defensively and Therese, in a heightened state of woozy arousal, noticed that the action helped show the shape of her step-daughter's melon-sized breasts.

"I'm sorry for everything I did, or said, that hurt you. It was so unfair. I didn't mean it. I was just lashing out. I didn't... mean it."

Michaela was looking at the floor, ashamed. Therese felt overcome. She stepped closer and touched the girl's shoulder.

"Oh, Micki, love. I appreciate that, I really do."

Her hand under Michaela's chin lifted up her sad face. Therese's easy smile was infectious and they stood in a subdued golden light, beaming at each other. Therese leaned down and kissed her. Her step-daughter's lips were so big and soft and lovely. She had meant it to be a brief motherly peck but her lips lingered. Perhaps daring Michaela to kiss her back? Perhaps daring herself. This was so very dangerous. Preservation instinct was ordering her to withdraw but some reckless urge compelled her to press on for just a millisecond more. Michaela closed her big, sad eyes and returned the kiss.

They were both afraid to breathe. Therese pressed the kiss more firmly and the girl did not pull away but reached up a hand to very gently touch Therese's waist. It was a shared, wonderful, loving moment. Eventually, Therese began to withdraw but Michaela wouldn't let her lips depart, her hand gripped the material of Therese's dress. Their lips were hardly touching now, just slowly rubbing, feeling the almost imperceptible contact.

Needing to breathe and rather than snootle comically in the face of the woman she adored, Michaela moved back and looked up. Therese was biting her bottom lip, looking scared, and she saw not a middle-aged step-mom but a nervous beanpole girl of her own age. Michaela's cheeks reddened as he smiled openly and a reprieved Therese smiled too.

"Ah, there's my girls! So good to see you both getting along!"

Michaela's father wobbled into the bedroom and grinned like a slobbering goblin through the bathroom doorway.

"Yes," Therese said, kissing the top of Michaela's head, "We're all friends here."

They watched him turn, wobble more and then sit on the edge of bed. He immediately slid off the bed, down to the carpet. Guffawing, he struggled to untie his shoes.

"I'd better help him, the big lug," Therese rolled her eyes and they conspired with an 'aren't men useless' grimace.

Michaela grinned as she watched her sozzled parents playfully pawing each other. Left alone in the bathroom, her eyes were drawn to a small purple bundle in the corner. She kicked it with her bare toe and it opened like a flower to reveal the shape of piss-stained panties.

Michaela's heart quickened. She instantly replayed the earlier scene of her step-mother's graphic display in the garden. The cogs whirled in her mind. She's drunk, she won't notice, she won't miss them... Without hesitation, Michaela picked them up, hid them in her hands and walked out through the bedroom.

"Goodnight," she said as she passed quickly.

She dashed down the hall so fast that her bedroom door was closing by the time her doped parents replied.

*******

An hour or so later, Therese jerked awaked.

"Hot damn! Contact lenses!"

She groaned groggily, sat up, swung her legs out of bed and stood. She fell back down and lay across her sleeping husband as the room swayed. She prized her body up with effort and made it to the bathroom. She sat on the loo to pee, marvelling at how her subconscious mind had reminded her in a dream that to sleep with her contacts in would leave her itching for days. Washing her hands in a comparatively sober frame of mind, she began to groan inwardly as she remembered what she'd done.

'Micki! The poor girl, she must think I'm nuts.'

She'd flashed her, pissed at her even. She'd... kissed her.

"Oh fuck."