Beginnings Foreplay And Fantasy

Chapter One

Several months ago, I'd moved to a suburb of Scottsdale, Arizona. Leading up to the move was a relocation by my company. I was a proofreader and editor for a medium-sized literary publisher based in Los Angeles. They seemed to be broadening a client list through a big chunk of the state of Arizona, so off I went.

A few months back, my next-door neighbor and I began noticing each other. We seemed to depart and arrive at our respective homes around the same time each day. It started with the usual 'how-you-doing' casual hello, and then she began to take note of my routine if she was going for a bite to eat or doing other errands.

Mornings before work and about an hour after arriving home, I would take a 20-minute walk, simply for the exercise and to be outdoors and get some air.

We eventually made official introductions. I came to find out her name was Carrie. To her, I was Todd. In my book, she was rather attractive. About five-eight, maybe 135 pounds, lean, fit, but not skinny. Moderately tanned, with pale blue eyes and dark brown hair worn curled close at the top, front, and upper back of her head. Down the back of her neck it was short and straight, as well as above her ears. She had nice breasts for her build, and her butt was on the small side of medium-size, nicely rounded. Given her degree of fitness, it likely wasn't flabby. Her hairstyle was often worn by women ten or fifteen years older than she was. I guessed she was late thirties. She made said style seem attractive.

I myself was thirty-three. I had been to dinner with a handful of women in the last few months and years, but never had anything steady and ongoing.

She was attractive enough that she had been in my thoughts a lot outside of work. For several years I'd found the act of women relieving themselves highly erotic. I didn't fantasize about every woman I'd ever encountered routinely in life, but Carrie was one that peaked my interest, and I wanted to get her reaction if I expressed my desires to her.

I had to be prepared for the fact that she would shoot me down. But she didn't seem the type to make snap judgments either. I had decided to communicate via letter. For me, writing was easier than talking, especially something of this nature.

In fact, the letter was ready, but I was awaiting an opportunity to deliver it, preferably covertly, that hadn't presented itself yet. That was about to change. I checked my mail, and among my things was something meant for her.

So now I had my 'in.' But something else would make breaching the subject of sexual kink a bit easier still. I would go over and deliver the errant mail, and tuck my letter under it.

The only other neighbor in the immediate area was an older lady, alone, who didn't seem to leave her house. We were all kind of on the outskirts of the suburb, and houses were not overly dense. Carrie drove up as I returned from the mail run. I went into the house to retrieve my letter, making sure I had her piece of mail.

I expected to have to knock, but Carrie was still outside, examining a small selection of keys. I went down the walk and over.

"Trouble?" I asked.

"Hell, yes. My other set of keys, with my primary car keys, I bent the ignition key, so I switched to my spares, but I don't have a house key with the spare car keys. Locked myself out. Locksmiths are pricey."

"I know a couple tricks to try," I said. "Let me go grab a couple things."

"You look like you've wanted a shower all day, too," she said. "How about you take your time and I hang out at your place, out of the heat?"

"If you want," I said. She trailed me back to my door and we went inside. Her mail and my letter stayed with me as I entered my bedroom. I readied the shower and stepped in. Ten minutes later I was out and drying when I heard Carrie raise her voice.

"Hey, Todd, sorry, but I really have to pee," she informed me.

"All right--" Before I got any more out of my mouth, she was standing in front of me after entering the bath. Fortunately the towel was hiding the right stuff. "You want me to step out?" I asked.

"Nah, you can stay. I've peed with other people around before," she said.

"You say so," I answered.

She dropped her bottoms. She dressed conservative professional, usually dark pants and a button-down blouse. She sat. It didn't take her long to start letting things go. I continued drying myself. As I listened to her pee hitting the toilet water, I became aroused. I had opened the towel and was drying my back. As she peed, Carrie watched me, undoubtedly noticing my penis looming like the space shuttle ready for action.

I finished my back quickly, sliding the towel to cover myself. The damage was done. Carrie wasn't going to let me off the hook. But it turned out she was going to start with a simple question, displaying her rational side. I seemed to remember her telling me she worked as a paralegal for a prominent and successful business attorney, though he was a one-man show. And so she mentally formed her query before it left her mouth.

"I've heard some people find the act of women relieving themselves erotic," she said. "I wouldn't have guessed you were the type. It does turn you on, though?"

"I've come to realize it does," I responded.

"Outwardly attractive women only or other types, too?" Carrie continued.

"A good portion I've fantasized about have been decidedly attractive. But I generally don't gravitate toward skinny women. I like a little meat on the bones. I also favor ladies with bigger-than-average butts," I admitted.

Carrie stood and wiped her crotch. I'd finished getting dry. I stepped out and threw on some shorts and a t-shirt, grabbing the mail I needed to deliver to Carrie and tucking it into my waistband. I grabbed several thick plastic sample cards.

I'd seen a locksmith pop a deadbolt with a variation of the old publicized 'credit card in the jamb' trick. As we walked back to her door, I explained what I was going to try. Suffice to say, I tried, and it did work.

Carrie gave a huge sigh. "Wow, Todd. Thanks. Now I don't have to pay someone." She stepped inside, found her other keys, and added the house key to her current keychain.

"By the way, some mail for you ended up in my box." I withdrew the two items and handed them to her. "You good?" I asked.

"Yeah," she said. "Thanks for letting me borrow the bathroom."

"No big deal. I don't wanna creep you out, but I kinda enjoyed being present for it. By the way, what I did with the door is technically considered breaking and entering. I'm not a licensed locksmith."

"I was aware of the legal ramifications," she confided.

"All right. Enjoy your evening. See you tomorrow," I said. She returned the sentiment. I walked back to my place and made a quick dinner of spaghetti. I checked my e-mail, noting how much new work would be waiting tomorrow, and also which current items could be wrapped up in a couple hours and allow me to move on. I took in some TV, read a bit, and crashed.

The next day at work, I closed out three projects, finished a new one, and got a start on one more. Periodically, my mind wandered to Carrie. I wondered how soon she would take a look at my letter. Would she read it all the way through? Would she be disgusted and abandon it? If she finished, where would her thoughts go? Would she allow me to talk with her about things?

After work, I bused home as usual. Carrie's car was not on the street or in her drive yet. I checked the mail again, and found nothing, which was rare. I ditched my work attire for street clothes and kicked back with my book.

Thirty minutes passed. Though I heard nothing beforehand, there eventually came a knock on my front door. I got out of my recliner and moved to open it. Carrie stood on the other side.

"Hey, Todd. I guess I'd like to know if you want to come over for dinner, around six?"

"Uhhh, tonight?" I said stupidly, and feeling it.

"Yes, tonight. Don't put yourself under pressure. We're neighbors; we do kinda know each other. Just two friends having dinner; one asking, the other accepting, ok?" she said.

"Yeah, all right. Six then," I agreed. She said 'later then' and departed to her kitchen. She obviously had some skill; else why make an invitation to the neighbor? Just over an hour to kill.

I went back to my book and worked in a little Playstattion 3. It was a longer hour than I would have liked, and I combated the flutters in my stomach and forced myself to relax. She was not a complete stranger. She was very unlikely to lose her cool and yell at me if she had looked at my few composed pages. She probably had, and it served as another reason for her dinner invite.

I went and knocked on the door, sufficiently loudly, ten minutes early, and was admitted. Carrie wore denim shorts and a simple red top that showed a little nicely toned belly. Dinner was about to be served, and she gestured to a small but adequate kitchen table. I sat.

Very shortly Carrie delivered two plates that contained tortilla shells, stuffed with ingredients and folded closed. Enchiladas, I guessed. I was correct. Carrie added a bowl of peeled apple slices and a plate of chocolate chip cookies. A hint of spices and a backdrop of chocolate still hung in the air.

We ate mostly in silence. I recalled correctly her job as a paralegal for the corporate attorney, and she asked a few pointed questions about my position with the literary agency. Within twenty minutes we finished, and in another fifteen things were completely cleaned up and squared away.

The kitchen and living room abutted each other. A full bath and one bedroom were also on this level, the doors in a short hall in the living room. The house was actually a split-level, and down a short flight of stairs was a second full bath, another bedroom, and what could be called a family room. At one end of this large room was a walk-in closet that contained games, sporting goods, clothing, and a few items of fitness equipment, all neatly organized. At this end of the room, spaced out to allow use, were an elliptical trainer, a recumbent bike, a rowing machine, and a small selection of dumbbells.

The two of us went down to the family room area and seated ourselves in the entertaining space opposite the fitness/storage area. It was a Thursday evening.

Well aware that I undoubtedly found the situation awkward and might well struggle to confide things to her, Carrie broke the ice and steered the entire conversation I had been wanting to have with a woman who might or might not understand or acknowledge my desires.

She began, "So. This letter you presented to me. I happen to be aware that this subset of sexually oriented behaviors exists. To the trained professional, the kinds of things you talk about in your writing are considered deviancies or sexual disorders.

"To me, it only becomes a disorder or a serious problem or distraction if a person affected by such thoughts is so consumed with them as to let them control him. Then in giving in to that control, he thinks and acts on nothing else except those inner thoughts and feelings, which become intense. The person probably doesn't have much 'regular' social standing or interaction. I know you don't fit that profile. You undoubtedly have a circle of friends, though you are probably mildly introverted. You have a job. You're apparently good at it. You function in the real world on a daily basis.

"So my questions are these: when did you start experiencing these admittedly odd desires? And, have you experienced them with a majority of women you've encountered daily? Lastly, just how far do you want to go with a woman who might want to help you with these feelings? How deep is your desire?"

I began at the top of her list. "I understand everything you just admitted knowing when you started the conversation. I started having recurring desires on the subject of women and relieving themselves in my late teens and through my early twenties. When I realized that these thoughts were recurring, I discovered much of what you talked about, though it took several years and hours of research. I figured there was something wrong with me, and then I discovered I wasn't the only one."

I continued, "I don't have thoughts about every woman I've encountered in the real world--just the ones that hold a more ordinary sexual appeal for me personally. At the end of it, I would like to meet or find a woman to explore with. As of late, I am also realizing that more ordinary or mainstream sexual activities arouse me. For awhile I wondered if my 'normal' sex drive existed. It does."

I wrapped up. "It is not, and never would be, my goal to force a woman to participate in any of my slightly odd desires. To be clear, what I want is to accompany a woman to the bathroom while she relieves herself. Doesn't matter if it's number one, number two, or both."

"You've not dated that many women in the last few years, though?" Carrie reiterated.

"No," I said.

"Maybe a good starting point just to have a woman gives you some affection then. With the whole bathroom fetish, I know what a 'golden shower' is. Is that what you want? Are you hoping for me to poop on you? Do you want to be dominated? I'm not a professional," Carrie stated.

"I would definitely let you pee on me. I would like to try having you poop on me, but that gets messy in a different way than being pissed on. I suppose a small part of me wouldn't mind letting the woman control things a little bit. But you're not obligated. You have to decide what you're okay with. Or whether any of the kinky stuff even happens. I wrote the letter because I felt like you might be the right kind of person to talk to about it," I said.

"Well, I don't fault you for wanting to talk about it. I even understand where some of the odd desire comes from. Obviously, reality is going to have to continue, and we are just two people. Whatever happens stays here. But let's take some time outside of work and over the weekend and see what we can do. There is definitely some mutual attraction, which is as good a starting point as any. " We navigated back to the main level of the house

Out the back door of the house was a medium-sized deck. At one end was a sitting area. At the other was a hot tub. For the moment, we sat. Carrie reached over and held my hand, eventually playing her fingers over it lightly. We sat for about half an hour.

Carrie said, "Take a dip in the hot tub?" It happened to be uncovered, and operating.

"Sure. What the hell. It's one thing I don't have," I said. "Let me grab my trunks and a towel." I hustled back to my place and took what I needed, then went back.

Carrie is going to try to give me some of what I want,

I thought to myself as I made the return trip.

Back out on her deck, I saw Carrie had opted for a black two-piece bikini suit. It particularly emphasized the flat expanse of her belly at the front, nice tits, and from the back, the rounded-out humps of her butt.

I ditched my t-shirt and tossed it aside with my street shorts. I slid down into the tub from the edge. At this side was a short bench, probably seating three rather close. Carrie made sure I was situated. Then she circled to the other side of the tub, putting a little sway into her hips as she moved. To me, it didn't look forced or unnatural.

She squatted and went feet-first into the tub. There was probably five feet between us in the water. Carrie waded gracefully over. She placed her hands atop each of my shoulders, then moved close enough to park herself on my lap. Her ass felt nice resting there, along with the warm water.

Carrie looped her arms over my neck and slid toward my torso. She leaned in, her upper half pressing into mine. Her nether-regions were just below my crotch. I felt a hot rush between my legs. My penis hardened in record time, just from her closeness.

Lips at my ear, Carrie whispered, "Okay, Todd?" She adjusted herself so she was more or less sitting on my stiffened dick. "Oh, there's that," she said quietly. I could feel her smiling. I felt sheepish myself. "No worries," she added.

I gave in and wrapped my arms around her middle. "Just enjoy it," Carrie said. Her lips touched my neck, and then her mouth opened and sucked gently. I was officially delirious with the surge of pleasure endorphins.

Oh, fuck,

I thought. Carrie's mouth worked gently at my left cheek. It came around to my lips and worked there, and my mouth opened to accommodate her as my own lips reciprocated.

I felt my cock touching Carrie between her legs. She spread them, and pushed her hips forward. Her tongue slid slowly into my mouth. Then it roamed, warm and wet, filling my mouth. She worked, letting me feel her sliding around.

She withdrew, and her lips sucked at mine before our mouths parted. "My, my, you are really hard," Carrie said.

"Sorry," I said.

"Hey, it's perfectly all right," she answered. "It's a natural response, and if it's been a while, it doesn't take much to get things going. Truly, I don't mind."

"This is nice though. Carrie, would you just stay here with me for a bit?" I asked quietly.

"Certainly, Todd," she responded. And so we did, Carrie in my lap with her arms over my neck, sitting in my lap, and my arms wrapped around her and just soaking up her physical attributes and her closeness to me. We sat for maybe ten minutes. Then Carrie proceeded to get my attention.

"Oh, I have to pee," she said quietly. "Would you like me to pee on you, Todd?"

"Please Carrie, go ahead," I answered. She left her crotch resting around my penis, which now throbbed, anticipating what Carrie was going to do.

It didn't take her long to start, either. I couldn't feel the heat of her piss, with the temperature of the water, but I felt a strong stream hitting the fabric of my swim trunks. It lasted several seconds, then tapered off.

"You made sure it was worth it, I see," I said to her.

"Well, hell yes," she replied.

"Was it hard?" I questioned.

"Surprisingly not," she admitted. "Your hard-on was really working while I was peeing, and I could feel it the whole time. It was kinda nice. At least I could tell it was good for you," Carrie said to me.

"Yeah, it was that," I agreed. "It's kind of a weird context to say so, but thanks," I said.

"You're welcome. I admit, I didn't really feel kinky. It was kind of appealing, in its own way."

"Well, I feel better knowing you don't feel completely weird about it," I said. "Hopefully the hot tub doesn't mind."

"It'll filter out," Carrie assured. Another couple of minutes, and we separated. "Let's get dry and head in," she advised. "It's early yet." In fact, it was around seven-thirty.

We swapped swimwear for street clothes again. Inside, Carrie closed the drapes in the living room and joined me on the couch. "After that, I think I'd rather be naked with you," she said, and her shorts and top came off again. Very carefully, she settled herself in my lap, cuddling.

"I thought I was the kinky one," I noted.

"Being naked isn't necessarily kinky. I'm comfortable in my own skin," Carrie said.

"We just met," I continued.

"Technically not. We've been neighbors for a while and I will now admit I've wanted to get to know you a little for some time," she countered.

With her in my lap, I was aroused again. Her arms slid around behind me, roaming lightly up and down my back before resting at the back of my head. Carrie's bare breasts were six inches or so from my face. Gently, she nudged my head forward.

"You don't mind?" I asked.

"Go ahead," she answered.

Slowly, I buried my face in her chest. This marked the first time I'd had a woman's tits in my face, and the sensation was rather interesting. The pleasure center in my brain must have liked it, because it was sending signals to my dick. I rather enjoyed the squishy softness of Carrie's knockers, and I rubbed my face around for several minutes. For some reason, I had always held that a set of breasts would be firmer, but clearly that assumption was literally being proven wrong. This I filed away.