Serendipity

"I don't mind," she said. "But first I have to pee out some of this beer I've been drinking."

I could not believe my good fortune. I was only half serious when I half-jokingly suggested I should take a nap on her lap. Despite the volume and activity level of the frat party going on all around us, I'd just smoked a joint and, combined with the previously ingested beer, was extremely drowsy. She was just sitting there on the couch, wallflower-like, and my first thought was that she was in the way of my nap. My second thought was that she wasn't bad looking and would make a nice pillow. Never in a million years did I think she'd actually agree to my request. She later told me that I reminded her of a lost puppy and she just wanted to help me. Help meant keeping anyone from getting any ideas about vandalizing me for a YouTube moment, or anything else they could do to jeopardize my well-being or reputation. This was a frat-house, after all.

You have to understand that I didn't really take the time to assess her beauty or the chances that she would be disposed to suffer with my head on her lap for a couple of hours before I blurted out my proposal. I was high. She was in the right place at the right time. After she agreed, however, I sobered up enough to take stock of my situation.

She wasn't beautiful, but she was attractive. Her face was pleasant, especially when she smiled, and her eyes had depth and mystery to them. Her figure wasn't exquisite—she had a slight pear-shaped figure with hips wider than her shoulders—but a really nice ass, I thought, as she got up to go to the bathroom. She had a small bust, but her clinging top revealed that what she had was firm and pert.

As I watched her go, two things occurred to me. The first was that I would never see her again. She had just deviously let me down gently so she could make a hasty retreat. The second thing was that I wanted to watch her pee. Apparently the second thing made it out of my mouth out loud—a side effect of being inebriated. Remarkably, she agreed to this request also.

"Come on, then. Hurry up!" she said and took my hand. "I've got to go!"

She led me down the hall and into the master bedroom. There was a couple making use of the bed and reveling in the audience that had gathered to watch. But the bathroom was empty. She pulled me in and closed and locked the door behind us.

"I can't believe I'm doing this," she muttered more to herself than to me. She pulled off her jeans and I could see the dark triangle patch of pubic hair through her thin pink cotton panties. Seconds later, those were down around her ankles, and I could see that she did indeed have a healthy growth of pubic hair, neatly groomed, not untamed jungle. "You better kneel down here if you want to see." I knelt in front of her, though space was cramped, just in time to see her gush into the bowl. I guess she really did have to pee!

I thought that seeing her piss was kind of anti-climactic. It wasn't arousing, per se, but it was interesting. The thing that really got to me, though, was that she let me watch. I didn't even know her name and she drug me into the bathroom so I could watch her piss! That was awesome.

"My name's Becky," she said as though she could read my mind. I would find that she would exhibit this mind-reading capability again and again. Apparently, my thoughts were not all that difficult to discern—or maybe she really could read my mind.

"I'm John," I answered, "Thanks for letting me watch you piss."

"You're welcome," she said as she wiped. "I've never had anyone ask me that before. It sounded like fun." She stood up but made no attempt at modesty—probably realizing the pointlessness of it. I was transfixed, like I'd never seen a pussy before. Well, I had. Once. But it was dark. And hers was pretty. I also noticed that she had a marvelous ass. It was a little bigger than the scrawny skinny cheerleader asses I normally drooled over, but firm and round. I decided it was perfect.

"Your pussy and ass are wonderful," I said tactlessly. I would blame it on the weed, but the truth is I just didn't have a better way of expressing myself. Lame, I thought. But she liked it.

"Thanks, John. Maybe they'll make up for my lack of boobs." Sadly, she pulled up her panties and fastened her jeans again.

Clearly she was self-conscious about her breast size, but even in my marijuana induced haze it occurred to me that implicit in her response was the notion that I would have them all and that my disappointment with her small boobs would be outweighed by her great ass and pussy. I reveled in this knowledge because I was never a stickler for large breasts anyhow. To my mind, quality outweighed quantity.

The crowd in the bedroom was still watching the fuck show and paid us no mind as we made our way back downstairs. Sadly, the couch was no longer empty. One couple, doubtless inspired by the goings on upstairs, were busy groping and spit swapping. I was crestfallen. I was really looking forward to napping on the lap of my newfound love. Perhaps it was too soon to speak of love, but I was high and it felt like love to me.

"Looks like we have to find a different place to nap," Becky observed. "Where's your dorm?"

"Across the street from the soccer field," I answered.

She took my hand. "Let's go," she said.

We walked out across the soccer field. I was still tired but exhilarated by this new turn of events. But by the time I made it up the three flights of stairs to my room, tired was winning out. I couldn't quite fish my keys out of my pocket. Becky fished around in my pocket to retrieve the keys. Good thing. I probably couldn't have unlocked the door anyhow. She led me into the room and sat on the bed and began unfastening my jeans.

"Here," she said. "Lay on the bed so I can get your pants off." I was still conscious enough to think that it was sad that I couldn't get my own pants off, but, more importantly, that I couldn't do anything while they were off. She pulled my shoes off, then my jeans and skivvies. I was able to get my shirt off by myself.

I watched numbly, like it was someone else's pants she was undoing. I was fading fast. I couldn't adequately appreciate the fact that my new girlfriend was getting her first glimpse of my man thing. Of course, in my current condition, it was nothing too impressive. I was too out of it to even get hard from the thought of her seeing my naked glory.

"You need to pee?" she asked. Interestingly, I didn't realize that I did until she said that. Maybe that's why drunks piss themselves? They don't know they need to.

"Come on. I'll help you."

"I think I can do it," I said, feeling a little embarrassed at my own helplessness.

"Oh no," she countered. "You got to watch me pee. It's only fair I get to watch you." Only she didn't just watch. She held it for me. She stood behind me peering over my shoulder while she aimed my stream of piss into the toilet. I probably should have been worried that she got such a kick out of it, but I wasn't thinking very deeply anymore. It made sense to me that she would like it as much as I liked watching her.

"You don't have a roommate?" she asked while she poured me into bed. She had noticed the empty bed on the other side of the room. "He moved out," I sighed sleepily. At this revelation, Becky pulled off her t-shirt and unfastened her bra to reveal that I had been right about her breasts being pert. Not large, but perfectly round peaches mounted to her chest, punctuated with quarter sized areolas and perfect pencil eraser nipples.

I woke up about three. Becky was nestled up next to me, naked. I was too out of it manage anything beyond a smile. She must have heard me stir. She snuggled her ass up in my crotch even more and pulled my arm over her like a blanket and put my hand on her breast. I felt her nipple harden at my touch. Then something else began to harden. Of course, she noticed. My penis was growing up her ass. Parts of me were awake.

Becky just adjusted her hips a little and slipped my now rock-hard cock inside her. You might have guessed from my earlier comments that I was inexperienced sexually and you would be right. I'd lost my cherry, but just barely. But Becky knew what she was doing and, apparently, so did my penis. Soon—no sexual records set here—I was ejaculating inside her love canal. I didn't even consider birth control. Never crossed my mind. I was a guy. My little head did all the thinking. She had moved my hand off her breast and down to her nether and used my fingers to rub her clit. It was an education for me and a climax for her. I was a little disappointed that we didn't come together but was glad that she got to go too.

Afterwards, well, there's the part you never see in the movies, jizz running cold onto the sheets. The realization that something magical just transpired—that is, as long as she thought it was magical. The realization that—oh shit!—you just had unprotected sex with a complete stranger, albeit one that you are strangely connected to. Laying there wondering what to do. Should I do something? Say something?

"Hold me baby," Becky said. I put my arm around her. She repositioned it so I was cupping her breast again. "That was good," she said as she pressed my hand against her tit for emphasis. "You don't have to say 'I love you.' I know you do. I love you, too."

Well, hell, I thought. What do I say to that? I certainly couldn't deny it. But I wasn't sure about it either. I know I talked about loving her earlier, but I was high then. What is love, anyhow? I wondered. If it was a feeling, well, hell, I had that. The proof was running down Becky's leg onto the sheets. I knew it had to be more though. Then it hit me. Love was a choice. A decision. An act of will. You set your love upon someone and then, come hell or high water, it was your act of will, your decision, that made it stick when the shit hit the fan. Maybe people these days didn't realize that. Maybe that's why the divorce rate was so damned high. But knowledge is power.

Did I love Becky? She went from a potential pillow to something much, much more in mere moments. I played back the hazy events from the previous evening. She accepted me out of the gate, willing to let me use her lap for a pillow, accepting my sordid request to watch her pee without blinking. She stood by me in my frailty with patience and compassion—and a sordid desire to help me pee. She gave herself to me without reservation—no demands, no expectations. She helped me be great. Was she the beauty queen from the porn magazines that I always hoped I would bed? No. But my dick didn't seem to mind. I liked her body. I thought it was hot. I thought her face was pretty. I could imagine looking at that face for the rest of my life. Was I settling, or deciding? I was pondering this when I was interrupted by an urgent need to pee.

I moved to get out of bed.

"You need to pee?" Becky asked intuitively. I answered affirmatively. "Let me drink it," she said.

"Huh?" I asked, not sure I heard her correctly.

"I want you to piss down my throat," she reiterated. "Come here," she ordered. I walked over to her side of the bed. Sure as shit, she sat up and took my dick in her mouth and waited for me to piss.

Now I've experienced the sensation of needing to pee but not feeling enough privacy to get it started before, like in a crowded restroom with a tall dude standing next to you at the row of urinals, but it was nothing like what I experienced now. There was a real psychological hurdle I had to jump before I could get the stream going, but when it started, Becky almost choked. I can't explain the sensation of pissing down a girl's throat. It's kind of like pissing your pants—pissing somewhere you know you're not supposed to. But this was her idea. Some may find this activity repulsive—and I'm not sure why I didn't. Perhaps my request to watch Becky pee was the key to her heart. I don't know. Maybe she felt a kinship with someone who had a thing for pee—although I wasn't ready to admit that I "had a thing for pee." I can't say, though, that I didn't enjoy pissing down her throat. I considered the idea that it was a power thing, a feeling of domination—but remembered that this was her idea. Was she submitting to me by drinking my piss? Perhaps. Or maybe I was submitting to her by doing what she asked me to do. The fact that this was all her idea kind of boggled my thinking. So I quit thinking about it. She wanted me to do it. I did it. I enjoyed doing it—however perverted that makes me. She was happy. I was happy. Win-win.

"Thanks for not freaking out on me," she said afterwards. "I know I'm kind of a freak."

"Well, I suppose piss drinking is not super popular among fetishes," I answered, "and I was surprised that you wanted to do that, but I'm okay with it," I told her. "I'd do it again. In fact," and I paused a moment to think about whether I really wanted to complete the sentence, "I'd even drink your piss if you wanted me to."

"You would?" Becky squealed delightedly "Would you consider licking my ass, too?"

"Definitely!" I answered more enthusiastically. I had seen her ass and it looked tasty. "Of course, I'd want to clean it thoroughly first."

"Well, that's what your tongue is for," she shot back.

"Don't push the limits of my perversion," I retorted.

"Okay," she said. "Cleaning an asshole can be almost as sexy as licking one. Just not as dirty."

"Which is precisely the point!" I said, ignoring her double entendre.

"Come back to bed," she urged.

I did. We cuddled. We slept.

I woke up to daylight streaming in through the only window in the dorm room, which happened to be an east-facing window—very annoying to non-morning persons such as myself. Becky was still curled up in a fetal position next to me. Of course, with two people in a twin bed, there's no way not to be next to one another, but that suited us just fine.

I managed to get out of bed without waking her, although she probably was awake, but pretending not to be. I freshened up in the bathroom, part of my normal morning ritual, although now I had a real reason to be fresh.

"I have to pee," Becky said groggily, leaning on the door jamb. She looked sexy as hell, even just waking up with her hair a mess. The fact that she was naked may have been a contributing factor. "Do you want to be my toilet?"

Wow! That didn't take long. I shouldn't have been surprised. Becky has been full speed ahead since the very first interaction we had together. I knew she was referring to our previous conversation where I volunteered to join her in her piss-drinking fetish. But now, I was second guessing myself. Was this really something I wanted to do? Not really. Nevertheless, I had opened my big mouth. I should follow through and at least try it. Once.

"Um, ok. I'll give it a shot."

"If you don't want to, I'll let you off the hook. It's my thing not yours."

"I'll try it. Once," I agreed.

"Fair enough," she said. "The shower would probably be the best place for this." I agreed. I didn't really want to have to mop a puddle of piss off the floor.

I positioned myself kneeling in front of her. Becky spread her labia with her fingers and let it fly. There was no hesitating. No nervousness to overcome. She gushed piss all over me.

"Open your mouth," she urged. "You don't have to swallow, but at least try it." I did. It didn't taste horrible. Mostly just bitter. I did swallow a bit of it, but more because I couldn't help it than because I really wanted to. I wasn't as enthusiastic about it as she was. By the time she finished, I was a pissy mess, but I had fulfilled my commitment to drink her piss. I had to admit that the naughtiness of it made me kind of horny. Or perhaps it was just Becky spreading her pussy in front of my face. In either case, I wanted her. And since we were both already naked in the shower, I meant to have her.

"I want to eat your ass," I told her.

"Really? Well I think I would like that a lot. But kiss me first."

We kissed. It didn't bother her that I still had her piss all over my face, and the taste of it still in my mouth. And she had morning breath—but that didn't bother me at all. I guess, lust conquers all. At least it caused me to forgo my earlier insistence that her asshole be thoroughly cleaned ahead of time. My need was urgent. It would not wait. I knelt again and Becky bent over in front of me.

I loved her ass. It might not have been everyone's ideal and, truth be known, it hadn't been my ideal either until I met her. Maybe that same ass on another girl wouldn't hold the same allure for me, I can't say. I only know that I loved her ass. And I wanted to lick it real bad. So I did. There's an old joke that once you get past the smell, you've got it licked. It's true. Yes there was an odor initially, but with persistence, I made it disappear. It felt like I licked her ass for about a half an hour, but it was probably actually closer to ten minutes. Still, she came about three times during that period with a little help from her own fingers.

"I think you should come home with me," she said, after I dumped another load of cum into her and we showered. "Or do you have other plans?" I didn't bother to tell her my original "other plans" consisted of watching porn, grabbing a burger, and maybe watching a movie. None of those plans anticipated this new development in my life.

"Okay," I agreed. In for a penny, in for a pound, I figured. I was already living an adventure. Might as well go all the way.