Thirst Ch. 01

"You know Bim, we had a good thing going, didn't we?" she sounded wistful.

"No doubt about that Sheel," I said, remembering the intimacy and passion of our lovemaking, "vanilla" though it was.

During the time we were lovers, we were both learning to accept our more "unusual" erotic desires. Sheila was the first of my lovers that I trusted enough to confide in my fantasies. Perhaps I felt at ease with her because she was suggested new areas to explore in everything that we did – from movies, trips, books, even if not that much in our lovemaking. She was curious about what interested me as I was about her. We would discuss things we wanted to try until, egging ourselves into doing it.

In our lovemaking, perhaps we were not as adventurous, but even there our trust was strong enough that we tried a few new things. While adjusted into certain areas easily (such as role plays that we would devise), others took more time. We were somewhat hesitant when it came to sexuality, but we were beginning to explore. Except, of course, for my last suggestion to her which had proved fatal to our relationship. Still, I had missed her spunk and vigor as a lover. It was time to see if things had changed.

"So, how's the love life?" I tried to sound nonchalant, as if merely making polite conversation, while, in fact, I was dreading her reply.

"No boyfriends for the past year, although I do have a couple of good friends who are men that I go out with now and then," She hesitated and then asked somewhat stiffly, "How about you, Bim? Are you breaking anyone's heart by moving here?"

I was relieved to find her in the same boat as I. I told her about the few relationships since our last meeting and how they had fizzled due to various reasons, primarily the lack of shared interests and poor compatibility compared with what I had shared with Sheila. I told her about the decision I took a year ago to not get into another romantic relationship where I could not be open and truthful about my inclinations and interests, and, that, as a result, I hadn't seen anyone since taking it. As I explained, she seemed to lighten up a bit.

"Hmmm. 'Inclinations and interests' – is that it, you naughty boy? Maybe you deserved what you got. Or did not get," She snickered, teasing me.

"Really, am I such a bad boy?" I put on a sad face and we both laughed.

"Well, maybe if you behave, we can share some fun, just like the old times?" Her voice rose at the end.

Was it eagerness I detected in her voice? But, what was that bit about "behaving?" Although I was flattered, I wasn't sure whether she meant what she said, or if it was merely friendly teasing.

"Hmmm. Thanks for the offer Sheel. You're a comfort, as always," I left it at that.

Even though it was tempting, what with my self-imposed exile from the kingdom of love that was now running into its second year, I reminded myself that I was not getting back with her while the unanswered question hung like Democlese's sword over my head. And I wasn't ready to bring it up yet – at least not before I had a feel for her intentions towards me. I certainly wasn't going to rush it like the last time.

Over the next hour, our conversation moved on to other topics: our families and friends, work, books we had read and such. Sheila kept excusing herself, going back in to the kitchen. I wondered if she was preparing something elaborate. We had agreed on a light, early dinner before I drove back. When she came back from the kitchen for the umpteenth time, I had to ask.

"Sheel, what's going on? I thought we were having something light? Are you preparing a five course meal in there?"

"No, no - its basic salad and sandwich and ice cream for dessert. I was just checking the water from the tap – it's been off color ever since the plumber came in yesterday to fix the leak in the water main outside. It seems to be alright now."

Later, we had a simple dinner – a salad with a lemon-vinaigrette dressing and turkey sandwiches, and homed made kahlua ice cream. We reminisced about all our old friends, many of whom were at my going away party, and the changes in their lives: marriages, divorces, children and the ones we had lost touch with. Amidst the easy banter, we ate and drank leisurely into the evening. As we were finishing up, she brought out the pitcher and emptied the last of the lemonade into our glasses.

"That's the last of it, Bim. The water from the tap here still seems no good. I should've bought a bottle of spring water, just in case. But, that shouldn't be a problem, I have a bottle of wine."

When I offered to run down to the supermarket down the road, she turned me down, saying she'd get it in the morning. Besides, since there was orange juice in the fridge, it should tide us over. She suggested that I stay overnight unless I was in a hurry to get back to my unpacking.

It was the Friday evening of a long weekend. I felt comfortable with the way things had progressed thus far. Although not a conclusive signal, that she wanted me to stay over was indeed a positive sign. The extra time meant that I could go with the flow – let things proceed at a natural pace. There was time enough to find an apartment and unpack before I started at the new office. I agreed, my hopes growing stronger by the moment.

After clearing the table, Sheila opened the curtains. The sun was not quite down yet, but the horizon was turning crimson. We went back to the sofa and chair where we sat sipping the wine, continuing to catch up on the "lost years." Sheila began to fidget and shift around in the chair. I asked her if she was okay, but she just smiled, shaking her head, brushing aside my concern. After another glass of wine, I began to feel a little thirsty, what with the dry salad and sandwich.

"I'll help myself to some of that juice," I said as I stood up.

"Go ahead. You know where it is. Get me a glass too, if you don't mind."

I went into the kitchen and took the orange juice from the fridge. It smelled bad when I opened it. It was a few days past the expiration date and so I emptied the carton into the sink. I checked the fridge again, but there was nothing else in there – no milk, no juice, and certainly no water. I checked the tap water and it seemed alright, but decided that Sheila knew better. I gave her the news about the juice and offered again to go to the store to get some water and milk.

"No, no Bim. Wait here. I'll be back," she was insistent as she went in to the kitchen and I heard the tap running.

The sun was setting in the distance and the room was flooded with a reddish light. I was examining the books on the book shelf when she returned. She handed me a glass of water. It was warm to the touch. I looked at her, puzzled.

"It's safe!" she gave me a reassuring look and smiled, standing by me next to the sofa, wine glass in hand.

"Boiled water!" my mind surmised.

But when I raised the glass to my lips, I detected a familiar aroma. I glanced at Sheila. She stood there looking into my eyes, her face blank. I brought the glass back up to my nostril, and then I was sure! I felt dizzy with confusion and shock!! It couldn't be! I must have looked comical, because she was smirking again.

"Sheel? Is this? I mean..." my voice trailed off into a helpless croak.

Her eyes glinted with the old mischief. But, there was also a hint of hesitation when she nodded her head. I was completely taken aback by the turn of events. Sheila watched me intently, as if wondering what I'd do next. I looked into her eyes as I slowly took a sip from the glass. The warm liquid was lemony. The smell that wafted from the glass was undeniably her musk, the scent of her arousal.

"The lemonade has left its mark Sheel," I commented breathlessly.

"Do you like it?" her voice betrayed nervousness, now receding.

In answer, I raised the glass to my mouth and gulped the rest down.

"May I have some more, please? I'm very thirsty," I said, voice quivering with nervous excitement.

She sighed, relieved, and almost ran to the kitchen and returned with another glass in her hand. She had never looked so happy and radiant!!!

"Will you help me fill these?" she asked, standing in front of me, looking me straight in the eye, as she handed the second glass to me.

Her forthrightness was shockingly delightful. I could only nod my head, having lost my voice altogether, as I began to understand why she had gone to fetch another glass. My heart was pounding violently in my chest, as if it wanted to get out and go thumping around the room.

Sheila twisted around, and unzipping her skirt, let it fall to the ground. My gaze followed the skirt as it slid down her smooth thighs and toned legs, then back up her to her hip, stopping at the well groomed mound. I relived the pleasures of our happier days by a mere glance of her pink, pouty pussy lips, a darker shade along the edges with hints of the deeper pink showing beyond the wet and glistening entrance, the pert clitoris peeking from behind its sheltering hood above it, all topped off by the mound of her clipped pubes. The view of the wet, soft petals of her pussy coupled with the aroma of her musk cast a mesmerizing spell, taking my breath away and making me giddy. I looked back up at her, catching her eyes, glittering with the passion and liveliness that I had so longed for. She picked her skirt up and flung it on the chair.

"God, you are as beautifully dazzling as ever darling," I managed to croak again, finding it difficult to get my voice above a whisper.

I was fast losing any resolve on keeping a strong front anymore. But then again, the resolution to stay aloof and guarded seemed so meaningless, since, with just one gesture, she had skipped past all those questions that my rational mind wanted answers for. Her gestures had rushed my mind past doubts and questions. What was there to be careful about anymore?

Sheila stepped forward and lifting her left foot, rested it on the armrest of the sofa beside me. Sliding forward, I held my now empty glass underneath the fragrant petals of her engorged flower, that object of my resurrected desire. Our eyes locked, hers sparkling and glazed with the naughtiness of what she was about to do. The sight of her standing half naked, about to give me more of her nectar made the anticipation unbearable. I could feel the feverish heat rising from my depths, sweeping across my body. The veins in my neck pulsed hot with the rush of blood, and my heart put out a fierce beat, as if it was about to explode like a nuclear bomb, mushroom cloud and all. I wondered if she could hear it thumping away.

Her eyes partially closed, she tried to concentrate, and then her shoulders quivered and a tremor traversed her torso, reverberating in her hips and parted thighs. A long sigh escaped from her slightly parted lips. She moved forward, supporting herself with her elbow on the raised thigh, head bent down so that her gaze was fixed on the glass between her thighs. As her body relaxed and steadied, a squirt of liquid emerged from between those luscious lips followed by further spurts. It then formed a thin stream, which hugged her thigh on its way down. I pushed the glass against her thigh to catch the flow. As the glass started filling, the stream steadied and separated from her thigh, now falling straight out from between her labia – a small, clear rivulet splashing into the glass.

As I sat listening to the glass fill, I abruptly remembered the large pitcher of lemonade sitting in the kitchen when I first came in. She had poured out the "last glass" of lemonade at dinner from that pitcher. It was almost full when I arrived. I must have had at most two glasses of lemonade. The reason for her frequent trips to the kitchen was now clear. She must have drunk most of the lemonade while we were talking! No wonder she grew increasingly fidgety after the meal!! She must have planned this whole thing beforehand! The little devil!!!

I was stunned, but, I was already shell shocked by then – a little more stunning hardly mattered. Still, I felt smug to have unraveled her secret. After my glass was almost full, I took the one she was holding in her hand and switched it in to the path of her stream. Holding both the glasses, one full and the other filling up, I watched and listened to the pleasant sound of her stream as it swished into the glass. Sheila was watching carefully as the second glass filled up noisily. As the warm liquid rose in the glass, she visibly struggled to stop the flow. With a spurt or two towards the end she managed to stop her stream just before the glass overflowed.

"Great control, baby. You must have had a lot of practice at this," my compliment was delivered with a sly smile that was part teasing, but more lust.

"It's your fault – you planted this idea in my head!" she blushed, pouting at me in mock accusation.

"Lucky me!" I retorted.

She took one of the glasses from me and we took our seats, she sitting opposite me, naked below her waist and with her legs lightly parted, so that I had a clear view of her lovely mound and the crevice at its center, the lips and pubic hair now glistening with a mixture of her juices and the droplets of her stream that glistened like dew drops on grass. I couldn't believe that she'd be so unabashedly open about something that she had dismissed outright in the past. Not only that, she was drinking her own sweet pee!! We started sipping from our respective glasses, sitting quietly. So many feelings and thoughts swirled around in me that I didn't know what to say.

"I've looked forward to seeing you every day since you called me Bim. And growing horny at the same time," she said finally, with a sly smile.

I had to take a few breaths before I could say anything as I was in no condition to respond clearly. I nodded my head as the strength of speech returned ever so slowly and agonizingly.

"Oh, God, Sheel! I came here expecting worse – much worse – thinking that you had kept away from me because of my interest in watersports. I can't tell you how much this means to me! How reassuring, comforting it is to know that I didn't lose you after all. Remember those days when I spent hours tonguing you? I used to fantasize that you would start flowing into my mouth and I would drink it all up. But I was so hesitant to tell you about it. And when I did tell you..." I paused. "I was sure you were offended when I told you. Were you? Did you have a change of heart since then?"

"Hmm... I don't think it was as much taking offense as being caught off guard, Bim. But, it did take me a while to come to terms with it. At first I was surprised that anyone would consider watersport erotic – it seemed so... well, strange to me. You know? But, the weird thing is, after we parted, the idea kept playing over and over in my head. I really was curious about the whole thing and eventually had to admit that it was… umm… interesting enough to investigate?" she smiled, tilting her head to the side as she held the glass to her cheek.

She looked so beautiful and wanton, the picture of a little slut who was completely in control of the situation and had me eating from her hand (or, was it drinking from her pussy?). I could feel my cock harden into a concrete pillar, straining to get out and inflict revenge upon her. But, I just sat there, biding my time as I waited her to continue.

"After you called me, I decided to do some serious research on the subject, and discovered that it was not so uncommon a practice after all, provided one takes certain steps – you know, stuff like hygiene and dilution. What's more, I found out that pee is even used medicinally - imagine that!" she paused, as if still unable to come to terms with it, "And so I thought that I'd see for myself what it felt like. It took me a couple of tries to build up the gumption to do it. But, once past that initial hesitation, I quickly found out that I enjoyed it immensely."

"What kind of research did you do? I mean where did you find the material?" I managed to ask in a shaky voice.

"Oh, on the web, of course. There's tons of material there. Of course, there's also tons of porn out there, which really didn't do much for me. What really did the trick was a really well written – very tastefully written, I must say -- manual on the topic. The way it was described really put me at ease. You know, it was just a matter of overcoming conditioned behavior and attitudes," she sighed, "as with other things."

"I know the watersports manual that you're referring to. That is exactly how I feel about it too," I answered, wondering what she meant by "other things."

"Once I realized I liked it, I wanted to tell you about it, but… Well, I wasn't sure what the point was, since I didn't know if we would get together at all. At least it seemed that way with us before you called me. I wondered if you were going out with someone. I don't know… I… well… I didn't want to muddy the situation further," she looked at me ruefully, taking another sip from the glass, before continuing.

"That's why I didn't tell you anything about it on the phone. Once I was sure you were available," she laughed, "well… here we are, Bim! Thanks for coming over sweetie. I missed you all these years."

So there it was. I sat there shaking my head, feeling cheated. The whole thing was tragi-comic. Instead of an aversion towards it, Sheila was really into watersports, even partaking in the pleasure by herself. She loved that one thing that I thought was the reason for her animosity towards me. I had given her the wrong signals by prematurely concluding that she didn't want to continue our relationship based on her initial hesitation. If only we had both been more patient and open with each other, and not rushed to judge each other, we needn't have suffered through years of mental self-torture. What touched me deeply was that she had only meant me well in not revealing her interest towards me. I realized that we had to quickly get past the regrets and let bygones be bygones.

"Awww, Sheel. Looks like both of us had read the situation and each other wrong. I thought you were offended with the whole thing and felt uncomfortable with me. When I suggested that we remain friends when I came up here just after you moved, I was trying to salvage a relationship that I thought I had wrecked. I wish I had shown more faith in your feelings towards me and trusted you to come to terms with it in your own time," I paused, "And, I appreciate your reasons for you not telling me – I felt the same way. I'm really touched that you were thinking of not hurting my feelings. I can't tell you how sorry I've felt through these years for not giving you the space and time to come to terms with it and for bringing it up as you were in the midst of the move."

Sheila gave a wry smile, nodding in agreement. The years apart, full of fears, doubts, and longing were regrettable and could've been easily avoided. But, at last they were finally over – the time we had lost was surely not a complete waste. The separation had helped us acknowledge the depth of the connection we had with each other. It gave Sheila the space to accept her interest in watersports and at her own pace. In many ways, it had strengthened the relationship, even if the path had proved to be tortuous and risky.

"Well, hey, let's make up for all that lost time now! All's well that ends well. Yes?" She said, as if reading my mind.

"Yes. Water under the bridge, I suppose," I concurred.

"Oh, yes... and more to flow! But, for the better this time!" She giggled in response.

It was a relief to be past the mutual doubts we had of each other. We both sat quietly for a while, smiling at each other like silly teenagers. I still couldn't believe that we were sitting there doing something that was so overpowering in its kinkiness.