Streets of Paris

Feeling rather awkward, I tell Emily that she might want to adjust herself a bit.

As urine continues to pour out from her cunt, Emily responds to me with a confused expression. "Come again?" she says.

I clarify. Explain inelegantly to her that her pee is starting to go underneath the door and get into the insurance office.

Emily looks towards the door. "Oh no!" she exclaims, finally realizing what she is doing. "I didn't mean to do that!" She hurriedly adjusts her posture, spraying urine about wildly as she moves, and eventually manages to position herself so that most of her piss stream is back ending up in the street. It is much too late though; I can see that a sizeable portion the insurance office's white calacatta marble tilework has already been flooded over with Emily's excreted vodka lemonade.

"Merde, Emily," Olivia laughs. "That's going to need a mop."

Emily just blushes and releases more piss. A few short spurts later and she's done. She gives her ass a quick shake to throw off any urine still clinging to her body before looking down at the enormous puddle of urine at her feet. She then stands and peaks into the piss-soaked insurance office. "Fuck," Emily remarks, "I really didn't know that was happening."

I shrug. Tell her it isn't such a big deal.

"And thanks, by the way," Emily adds, looking at me as she pulls her g-string and shorts back up her legs. She takes her time getting the clothing back into position and seems to make a point of allowing my eyes to linger on her cunt and ass and pubic hair.

I shift my eyes from the view long enough just to give Emily a quizzical look. Ask her what in the world she is thanking me for.

"Well," she says, refastening her belt. "You didn't let me get ticketed, did you?"

I laugh. Tell her that I suppose that I didn't. Nearby, Olivia is already pouring more drinks.