The Fluid Swallower

Fluid Swallower

The name of this story was inspired by one of my fans and jolted a memory about how I got into the kink of piss play. If this kink is not to your taste, then click back on your browser. Please do not read it, get to the end, and provide rambling, incomprehensible, and anonymous feedback, overflowing with spelling and grammatical errors, telling me you did not like the topic of my story. Such action makes you look stupid.

Rachael Longley had an undeserved reputation at high school for being a slut. Sure, she was brash, talked a lot about sex in polite company, and was always seen to be many different men frequently.

Once high school concluded, I went on a global travel tour before heading off the university the next year. I came back to the UK in time for summer and resumed my job at the local swimming pool.

One day, perhaps a week after restarting my job, I completed my morning shift and began walking home in the pouring rain. Trudging along the wet streets, I heard a voice behind me.

"Jason!"

Turning around, I saw Rachael hurrying towards me, as equally as wet as me.

"Heard you were back in town," She puffed, "How are you?"

"Great thanks, and you?"

"A bit wet but overall, I'm good."

Our meeting was not random. Rachael worked with my mother at the town's largest and most popular tavern, The Black Swan. They did the day shift together, during the same work hours that I generally did at the pool. As a result, when I caught up with friends in the evening, they had finished their shifts, and so I had not seen Rachael yet following my return from overseas.

We were friends at high school, close but not too close. She began working with my mother as soon as high school ended, and they got on together like a house on fire. Both had complementary personalities that enabled them to control the rambunctious behaviour of the tavern's regulars with laughable ease.

There were numerous times the previous summer when Rachael would randomly turn up at my parents' house for drinks and trash talk. While Rachael flirted with me, mildly, I kept an arm's length distance between us. I was pursuing, unsuccessfully, other targets.

"Day off?" I asked as we walked along a street together.

"Yeah," She answered, "I've just come back from my grandmother's."

"She good?"

"Still feisty for 79."

"Let's hope for the same good fortune."

"You going to lunch?"

"Yes, but I've finished for today and was heading home."

"Mind if I walk with you?"

"Sure."

Our parents' respective houses were in the same general direction, but mine was closer. The rain was coming down hard. While it was not bone-chillingly cold, the wet clothes made us shiver.

"You want a towel?" I asked when we reached my house, "Dry off, you know?"

"Oh, that'd be great," Rachael replied to my platonic offer.

There was no one home, when we arrived, not that I expected anyone to be. My parents were at work, and my brother was at school.

"Take a seat, and I'll get some towels." Rachael shivered from her damp clothes.

I went upstairs to the linen cupboard and grabbed two large pre-heated towels. When I returned, my jaw dropped to the floor. Rachael had stripped down to her bra and panties.

That is an interesting turn of phrase to use with Rachael. In retrospect, I believe she used her brashness and course mannerisms to compensate for several physical drawbacks. Firstly, she was chunky, not fat, but there was a surplus of meat on the bone. Secondly, the chest and arse had not developed enough to give her a curvy figure. Third, Rachael was not tall but physically akin to a block of wood. Lastly, she was neither attractive nor unattractive. In a crowd of people, Rachael would not stand out, excepting her in-your-face personality.

"Jeez, you don't mess around!" I exclaimed after collecting myself.

"Don't be a pervert," She retorted, "Just give me the towel."

I did as ordered and wrapped my own around my fully clothed body.

"Can I use your clothes dryer?"

Rachael's suggestion was logical. Use the tools at hand to dry our clothes. The problem was that the laundry at my parents' house was, and remains, a separate external structure. Meaning, I had to venture outside in the rain again.

I grabbed Rachael's wet clothes and opened the door. In the laundry, I stripped naked, kicked off my pool shoes and re-wrapped the oversized towel around me and threw all the clothes into the dryer.

"Should be about half an hour," I said when I returned to the kitchen with wet feet.

"Great, you got anything to eat her?"

"I can make a sandwich if you'd like?"

"Fantastic."

"What do you want to drink?"

"What are you offering?"

"Beer, wine or soft drink?" I replied, looking at what options were forthcoming from the fridge.

"Oh, wine if I can?"

"Sure, I'm sure my mum won't mind."

I grabbed a beer and, together, we sat down at the table and consumed our lunch.

"What are you doing for the rest of the day?" Rachael asked after polishing off her sandwich.

"I had nothing planned before the rain," I replied, swallowing a gulp of cheap but rancid French beer, "You?"

"Nah, nothing."

"You want to hang out and listen to some music while our clothes dry?"

"Sure."

Despite the circumstances, we found ourselves in, which was ripe for a hook-up, I harboured no desire on Rachael at that point.

We went upstairs to my bedroom. I made a musical selection, Ritchie Blackmore's Rainbow, I think. I dropped the vinyl onto the turntable and placed the needle in the groove. Moments later, the room was alive with guitar genius.

I sat on the bed, and Rachael sat on the chair, each sipping our drinks and making small talk for ages. Luckily, my parents ran the central heating at low on days like this and so my room was relatively ambient.

"Avert your eyes for a second," Announced Rachael, as she turned on her chair and deftly removed her bra and panties.

"That's better," She announced holding the matching white numbers and placing them on the radiator to dry off, "I'll warm up faster naked."

"I'm already warm," I replied.

"You naked underneath that towel?"

"I threw all my clothes in with yours."

Rachael shot me a lustful glance, and the first clues that she was making a pass on me dawned.

Did I want to go there?

Sure, I had just returned from an exciting global tour and wasn't in a relationship at present, but did I want to go there with Rachael? Given her reputation, did I want to become a notch on her bedhead? What would my friends say? To me or behind my back? Still, every hole's a goal as they say.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours?" I said, half-jokingly.

"Sorry, Jason," Replied Rachael with the shit-eating grin of someone who was setting up the long con, "I'm not that easy."

What the actual Arthur Fleck? Her reputation was one of being a complete slut, allegedly! There were tales that she spread her legs on demand. Was this a rejection?

To be fair, I was hardly a Lothario. My technique lacked sophistication and did not mature until I was into my thirties. I took Rachael's behaviour as an invitation to fuck; you know as a slut does.

"I didn't mean to imply..." I stammered embarrassed.

"And I didn't infer..." Rachael was enjoying my discomfiture.

Since I misread the situation, I simply smiled and shrugged my shoulders. Looking at my digital clock, I saw that the thirty minutes were up.

"The clothes will be ready in a minute or two," I said, standing up and opening my wardrobe.

"Goodo."

The day called for warmer clothes than my pool uniform, and I made a suitable selection.

"I'll just go to the bathroom and get changed," I said to Rachael, somewhat sheepishly.

"Sure."

Bundling up my clothes and trying to retain the towel around my body, I made my way past Rachael, fumbled with the door handle, and dropped my clothes.

Offering a colourful metaphor for the predicament I found myself in, I reached down and collected my clothes. At that moment, Rachael grabbed my towel by the hem and yanked it from me.

Now I was naked and felt humiliated. Turning around to face my tormentor, Rachael wolf-whistled, and this simple act disarmed my anger.

"They said you were buff," She said, her eyes wide open, "They weren't exaggerating."

"Who said what?" I replied, snatching the towel quickly from Rachael and re-wrapping it around me.

"Those that have seen you swimming and working out."

"Now, let's see you?" I responded with a smile, "Fair's fair."

"Not today, but who's to say what the future may bring."

Thwarted again, I went to the bathroom and got dressed. Despite what happened, my cock did not respond, at all.

I went downstairs and braved the nasty weather to retrieve the clothes from the dryer.

"Here you go," I said to Rachael as I dumped her clothes by her feet, "I'll see you downstairs when you're dressed."

Minutes later, Rachael joined me back in the kitchen, dry and warm again. We finished our drinks, and then I offered Rachael the use of an umbrella to complete her journey home.

"Can you come with me?"

"Sure." It seemed the gentlemanly thing to do.

Ten minutes later, we reached Rachael's parents' house with the umbrellas performing well against the elements.

Rachael shook the umbrella out, unlocked the front door and walked across the threshold.

"Before I go, I have something to give you."

"Oh, yes, what?"

Rachael pulled me close and kissed me hard, her tongue exploring my mouth furiously.

"See ya!"

The front door was slammed in my face, and I was left standing outside like a plank of wood wondering what the fuck just happened. Being unable to figure that out, I simply walked home like a clueless arsehole.

Regardless, Rachael provocative opening salvo would not go unanswered. Indeed, her action played upon my mind but not in an impulsive way. I decided to bide my time for two reasons: first, I was not convinced I should go there; and two, I had other, more glamorous workplace targets.

Several weeks later, I wandered up to the Black Swan after finishing work. My mother was completing her shift so I could enjoy a beer and get a lift home. Rachael was there preparing to take over from my mother at 4 pm for the "graveyard shift", so-called because the hours of 4-7 pm were generally devoid of the beautiful people.

"What are you doing after here?" I asked.

"Nothing planned," She replied, with customary bravado, "You want to take me out?"

The barflies, shrouded by the acrid smoke of tobacco, laughed at my embarrassment at being propositioned so brazenly.

"Sure," I answered guardedly, "Did you want to accompany me on a walk through the woods?"

"Oh, that's so romantic!" Rachael replied with mock sarcasm, but her response elicited more laughs, including one from my mother.

"You have an alternative?"

"The woods will be just fine."

"Cool, meet at the castle at say 7.30 pm?"

"See you there."

With that, my mother and I departed the hotel and drove the short distance home.

"She's keen on you." Mentioned my mother.

"Mum..." I groaned.

"What?" She responded to my embarrassed groan, "You could do worse."

And I could do a lot better.

My ego shied away from wanting to be judged by my peers for being involved with Rachael. Her audacity and overt sexual provocation were coping mechanisms that offset her plainness and the fact that she was larger than many of our ex-classmates. Plus, I was still dreaming about my three sexy work colleagues - an ultimately fruitless endeavour.

"Why are you invested?" I asked, curious about why my mother was pushing this barrow.

"Well, you've been so down after your breakup with Beverley," She began, touching a raw nerve, "Rachael's been keen on you for a few years now."

A breakup that occurred the year before, and that motivated me to do some globetrotting.

"I don't know, mum," I answered, thinking about it, "She's not exactly Miss World."

"How incredibly shallow and, quite frankly, insulting, Jason!"

My mother's voice rose in anger at my immaturity.

"You do not evaluate people on their looks or appearance, but on the strength of their character."

That was a later-in-life lesson for me.

"But I'm not sure I'm attracted to her." I stammered, which was true.

I was horny and wanted to fuck Rachael senseless -- so long as none of my friends knew - because she had the reputation of a slut, but I didn't picture myself "going out" with - or "dating" - her because of said reputation, socially, or forming an ongoing relationship. Naivety can be a cruel teacher.

"Have an open mind, and get to know her," My mother replied, calmly and wisely, "You might find that you have more in common than you first thought."

"But we'll be departing for university in September." I pointed out.

"Doesn't mean you'll lose contact."

Pre-internet, losing contact was highly likely eventuality. I enrolled at Sheffield University, and Rachael was off to Swansea University, at least two hours on public transport, on a good day. Being separated and among so many new people, staying faithful was a dubious bet at best.

My mother was undergoing pre-separation anxiety. She figured that if she played cupid and forced Rachael and me together that we would not leave town. Or, at the very minimum, we would come back as a couple during breaks and settle after our studies completed.

"Don't force this, mum." I winced in response.

With that, we arrived home. Following dinner, I showered and swapped my pool clothes for something appropriate for hiking in the local forest. Fifteen minutes from our scheduled rendezvous, I made my way to the castle. As I did so, I caught a whiff of the air, saw the thunderheads, and knew rain was on the way.

Jeez, this was turning out to be one wet summer.

Rachael and I met at the castle's Keep, dropped down into the ancient moat, excavated 700 years earlier, and followed the track into the forest behind this old historical monument. The unmistakable rumble of thunder began rolling across the sodden landscape as the storm began to rise.

Was this ramble a good idea?

No, but we kept delving deeper into the woods. As each rumble grew in anger and volume, I noticed Rachael shudder in terror. Thus far, our conversation was pedestrian to the point of being mundane. No sexual innuendos, no teasing, nothing to indicate Rachael was keen on me.

Despite being the height of summer when the sun fades away around 11 pm, the thunderheads brought a surreal sense of early darkness to our ramble. There were noticeable changes in pressure, and the wind whipped up the canopies of these timeless trees. What was about to strike was sudden and deadly.

Lightning arced across the sky while thunder stunned the landscape. Then a drop of heavy rain, followed by another in quick succession, then a downpour of unbelievable violence. Within seconds, the generationally carved pathways that crisscrossed these primordial woods became an instant morass as we struggled to find shelter.

Shortly, we found a culvert, carved into the limestone rockface, that offered some protection from the elements. By that stage, however, we were soaked to the skin. There seemed to be no end in sight to the storm in sight, and the light was fading fast.

"Hold me?" Shivered a vulnerable Rachael as a massive arc of lightning pierced the sky.

I perched on a rock inside the culvert that provided just enough protection from the hammering rain and invited Rachael to nuzzle between my legs. With all that was going on outside of our flimsy protection, sex was the last thing on my mind. The situation we found ourselves in was genuinely frightening.

Rachael wrapped my arms around her ample midriff and breathed a sigh of relief at the limited protection I offered. She wore this overly generous brown wool jumper, black leggings, and runners -- not the best footwear for such terrain.

While her clothes were soaked, I soon noticed an internally generated heat emanating throughout her body that was intense enough to warm my frozen bones. I also noticed that in my firm grip, Rachael was visibly relaxing, so much so that Mother Nature's violence was not scaring her anymore.

Then her breathing began quickening with shorter, sharper intakes.

I dared not say anything, else I ruin the mood but still, I was intrigued.

Then Rachael began squirming in my embrace. Minute gyrations at first but becoming more pronounced as the seconds passed.

She was grinding her butt into my crotch!

Rachael was turned on!

Suddenly, a delicate hand grabbed my hand and began directing it below to the apex of her legs. The heat produced by her pussy was unbelievable.

I dared not move or do anything other than letting Rachael lead the action. I was frozen with fear but undoubtedly aware of a growing sensation in my jeans.

As Rachael pressed my hand again her volcanic mound, she tilted her head back towards my shoulder and silently groaned in my ear, turning me on.

The hand Rachael used to direct mine to her fabric-clad pussy was redirected to the side of my head as she let out an audible groan of pleasure.

My fingers began a tentative exploration, millimetre by millimetre. I did not dare assault the front door directly. I was barely breathing from fear that any wrong move, or brute force approach, would ruin this moment in time. And what a truly unique snapshot of life that was, never equalled.

My exploration yielded a nugget of success, a small rip or tear in Rachael's leggings very close to the prize. Exploiting this opportunity met with no objection to the wearer as my digit ripped more fabric in its attempt to reach Rachael explosive pussy.

Time slowed as my finger conquered more territory on its holy grail quest. Each millimetre of ground conquered came with a corresponding increase in temperature. I was hot on the trail to the treasure, but I plotted a methodical and slow approach.

In a ludicrous moment of movie reminiscence, my thoughts harked back to that opening scene in Raiders of the Lost Ark. In the sight of the golden statue, Alfred Molina's character says to Indy, "We must hurry. There is nothing to fear."

"That's' what scares me," Replied our intrepid archaeologist.

Slow and steady wins the race.

My purring host concurred, but my cock groaned in frustration. Each movement of my finger tore more flimsy fabric from the leggings, but Rachael did not appear to care. She was as much invested in this as I was. My digit inched ever closer to the prize.

When I finally got there, two surprises awaited my fingers. First, Rachael was not wearing panties, and second, she was utterly shaven -- my first bald pussy, and it felt beautiful.

Almost instantaneously, Rachael and my cock jumped as soon as my fingers made the first contact. She pressed her butt hard into my crotch and let out a long sigh of pleasure.

Seconds later, my fingers slipped into the honey jar; swampy, slick, and sticky. A sudden crack of thunder drowned out Rachael's audible moan at the sensation of my fingers crossing her steaming threshold.

I was unable to reach too far into that jar, but I was able to sweep the incredibly wet opening and just managed to flick her clit occasionally. The effect on Rachael was instantaneous: she melted further into my body, lost her fear of the storm, and soon began purring loudly.

Not a kiss was offered or exchanged between us.

My cock was under such strain, and I could feel it pulsate into the small of Rachael's back. Her hands were on my forearms; one between her legs while the other was resting on her stomach.

As my fingers continued gently working her lady parts, time seemed to stop, I felt Rachael shudder numerous times as pleasure waves washed over her.