[This is a standalone story (though the characters may reappear in future works). Be aware, it depicts domination/submission, lesbian-to-straight orientation play, humiliation, rough sex and some pissing. Avoid if any of that troubles you.
All characters involved in sexual situations are aged over 18.]
*******
A cool, rain-misted Friday evening, the puddled street below reflecting the headlights of passing cars. I wouldn't have been going out tonight, even if the weather was better. I was busy getting my apartment ready for dinner with Lara.
I'd just finished tidying up, the bolognese simmering in the pan, when the doorbell buzzed. She was early, as usual. I liked that about her.
She came in, carrying a closed umbrella that glistened with rainwater. She wore a white buttoned shirt, oddly formal on her small frame, and a simple knee-length skirt with a blue check pattern. She propped her umbrella against the wall by the door. She'd brought a bottle of wine, a Rioja Blanco, which she retrieved before leaving her bag next to the umbrella.
Lara possessed what I would call an understated beauty. She wouldn't make you stop and stare in the street, but she was so easy on the eyes you could look at her all day. She kept her hair short, a little longer than a pixie cut, and her makeup minimal. She didn't need much. Her face was naturally sweet and girlish, with a shyness in her dark brown eyes that made her look a lot younger than her twenty-seven years. She liked to lean into her tomboy look by dressing quite androgynously -- I was surprised to see her in a skirt this time. I'd often told her she was pretty enough to model herself, a compliment she always batted away. I suppose she would know best.
We kissed hello in the hallway. It was a chaste kiss. No tongues, no pawing at each other. Sometimes we fucked as soon as she walked in the door, but tonight was going to be more of a slow burn. Dinner and drinks before the main event.
"You look great in that skirt," I told her as we went through to the kitchen. Inwardly, I was picturing how easy it would be to slide my hand beneath it.
"You don't think it's too, like, matronly?"
"Not at all. The shirt is, though," I joked.
"Maybe I should wear the stuff we were styling yesterday. It was a lingerie shoot," she said wryly.
I chuckled. "You must have loved that. Hot girls in lingerie posing for you all day long."
"Yeah, I tried not to be too obvious ogling them."
We chatted as I put the finishing touches on the bolognese, covering the usual minutiae of work, mutual friends, family, dates. We weren't the kind of friends who phoned or messaged each other every day, so it was nice to catch up in person.
Lara was a freelance fashion stylist, trying to make sustainable fashion her niche, and her career was starting to take off after years of slow going. She told me she was slightly overwhelmed by all the bookings she was getting. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for being successful," she laughed.
"Don't undersell yourself," I said, judiciously sprinkling some tabasco into the bubbling sauce. Lara liked a hint of spice. "You've got the talent, and now people are taking notice."
"That's what scares me. I keep thinking they're all going to realise I have no idea what I'm doing."
"Or that you're only in fashion to get girls?"
Lara rolled her eyes. "That, too."
As I plated up the pasta, I tried not to think about Lara and her girlfriends, twined together in bed, moaning as they licked each others' dripping-wet pussies. Okay, so I didn't try very hard. My cock started to stir.
Lara described herself as a lesbian-leaning pansexual. In practice, she almost exclusively slept with women. She hadn't dated a guy in more than three years. She had a couple of regular female lovers, in addition to occasional hookups she met through dating apps. I knew she'd even had sex with one of the models she worked with -- I loved to tease her about that one. Pretty as she was, she could have had a lot more casual flings if she wanted, but she was much too shy and reserved for that.
Girls made her happy, she'd told me once. Girls were kind to her. Girls were gentle and unselfish in bed. She'd had too many guys treat her badly to want another hetero relationship. She knew her parents disapproved, but they loved her enough to swallow their misgivings, and her brothers and sisters (she was the youngest of six) were very supportive. In the long run, she would probably settle down with a woman and get married. Maybe have kids through IVF.
I was really, truly fond of Lara. She had a genuinely sweet and guileless heart, the kind of person who would drop everything and head straight over to help you out if she heard you were in trouble. I knew life had not always been easy for her, and that she was still unsure about her sexuality. I hoped that one day she would find the loving longterm relationship she deserved.
And in the meantime, I was happy to fuck her sweet, anxious, confused brains out on a regular basis.
*
Lara drank a lot with dinner. She wasn't usually a big drinker, not like some girls I knew, but tonight she knocked back the Rioja at an impressive rate. I refilled her glass four times before the meal was over. I could tell she was nervous, trying to steady herself for what she knew was coming.
It scared her, and that was precisely why it excited her.
I didn't make a move on her right away. I wanted to keep her in suspense. I liked the way she kept glancing at me, obviously trying and failing to hide her apprehension. My cock was comfortably semi-hard, resting its length against my thigh as I waited for the moment.
We cleared the table together, like any couple would. I stroked her back, a gentle touch that would have seemed innocent and friendly to anyone watching, but it was calculated to put her on edge. I could see the tension in every movement of her body. She knew she wouldn't be leaving my apartment until I'd fucked her.
When the washing up was done, Lara murmured that she had to pee. Too much wine for her delicate bladder. I could have intercepted her as she walked to the bathroom, taken her forcefully up against the wall as I sometimes had before. Instead, I let her go. I waited half a minute. And then I followed her.
She looked up in surprise as I walked into the bathroom without knocking. She was sitting on the toilet, her skirt hitched up and her panties scrunched around her ankles, pissing noisily into the water. Her stream faltered for a moment, but she must have been too desperate to stop, because the loud gush quickly resumed. I paced towards her as she watched with wide, uneasy eyes.
I unzipped my fly and stood looming over her, not in any hurry, enjoying the discomfort in her sweet face. Neither of us spoke. My stiffening cock grew ever larger as I looked down between her parted thighs at her bare, pissing pussy.
Lara's vulva was not a smooth, neat porn-star slit. Her labia were big, fleshy, almost extravagant, flowering out from her lightly fuzzed mound. They twitched gently as her urine flooded from their pink folds. Her clit was by far the biggest I'd ever seen. Right now it was swelling out of its hood, fat and happy, eager for what was to come despite its owner's anxiety. I knew she was self-conscious about it -- she'd told me how a past boyfriend had teased her relentlessly, saying that with such a big clit she was practically a boy. Personally, I thought it looked adorable. And it was so sensitive; she always made the hottest sounds when I sucked on it.
Lara was still nervously peeing when I finally tugged out my semi-hard cock. I liked the way she looked at it, with a sort of fearful curiosity and anticipation. I wasn't huge by any means, but I was pretty well-endowed, and Lara had admitted she sometimes struggled with my girth.
I didn't need to tell her what to do. We'd played this particular game many times. Slowly, without looking me in the eye, she leant forward on the toilet and took me into her mouth.
I groaned at the wonderful sensation of her warm, friendly tongue slurping over my stiffening cock. She worked her mouth around me smoothly and steadily, her pretty head bobbing, considerately keeping her teeth from grazing me. Her piss abated to a trickle, urine dripping from her labia, but she kept sucking. She had a talent for blowjobs, and I felt privileged to be the one guy who could enjoy her skill.
"Do your girlfriends know you suck cock?" I asked her, stroking her face with my fingertips as her tongue flicked and curled around my shaft. "I wonder if they'd still want to kiss you if they knew. Not so lesbian with my dick in your mouth, huh?"
My tone was harsh and derisive, a far cry from the way I normally spoke to her. That was another part of our game. She had never said outright that she enjoyed it. But she always got so wet when I talked to her like that, her pussy flooding at the names I called her, the insults and mockery that accompanied my hard thrusts inside her needy cunt. She would need comfort afterwards, reassurance that it was just dirty talk and nothing else. For now, though, we both had our roles to play.
She sucked me and sucked me, clearly trying her best not to gag on my thick cock. I didn't outright facefuck her, though I badly wanted to. I just thrust forward occasionally to make sure she could feel my cockhead deep in her throat.
Rather than let her suck me to completion, I pulled out when I was almost fully erect. My cock gleamed with her saliva, pointing out straight at her as if in accusation. I gave her a few seconds to catch her breath before placing a hand on her shoulder and making her sit up straight. She parted her legs a little wider on the toilet. The water in the bowl beneath her was stained pale yellow with her urine. I aimed my cock down between her thighs, at the delicious floral lips of her cunt.