“I’ll let you see me pee,” said Marcy with a twinkle in her grey-green eyes, “under one condition.” The old guy had told her his fantasy, but she wasn’t about to make it too easy for him.
“Harrumph!” snorted Gerald, who didn’t like conditions. “What do you propose?”
“I hereby challenge you to a pissing contest.”
“You’re on!” said Gerald with a grin. He was relieved that that was all she was asking. Too many women got demanding, and it grated on his nerves; that was the reason he had never married. Marcy seemed different, though. That was why, out of his vast assortment of female friends and occasional lovers, he had chosen Marcy to bring to this place. That was why he and Marcy were sharing a cabin in this sylvan paradise.
Marcy and Gerald were an odd couple. They had met on a recent birding expedition and were instantly drawn to each other. A retired museum director and a senior member of the local birding society, Gerald Nash was a man of prodigious appetites, a heavyset yet handsome man whose youthful vigor belied his 75 years. A lonely librarian in her late thirties, mousy little Marcy Tate had signed up on a lark (if you’ll pardon the pun) and was hooked. The fresh mountain air put a spring in her step, and the warm summer sun imparted highlights to her dishwater-blonde hair. Gerald had noticed the transformation and praised her pulchritude, and she had succumbed to his charm. From then on, they were frequently seen in each other’s company, which caused many tongues to wag in their small community. Gerald and Marcy cared not one bit.
Now they were hiking together in the woods near the cabin Gerald had rented for the two of them, and Gerald was marveling at Marcy’s intriguing proposition. A pissing contest! A chance to see this lovely young woman’s glorious golden stream! To Gerald, Marcy was a dream come true, and this was a fantasy he couldn’t wait to see realized.
For Marcy’s part, she thought this could be fun. Never before excited by the prospect of pee games, and frankly a bit shy about her excretions, Marcy nonetheless welcomed the chance to provide Gerald with something he craved. This erudite hedonist had brought much joy into her life, and she was determined to return the favor to the best of her ability.
They agreed on some ground rules. Because of the gender difference and the fact that Marcy was inexperienced at urinating from a standing position, she would get a handicap of one foot. They marked their starting positions with tent stakes (an avid outdoorsman, Gerald always kept his camping gear in the trunk of his car). The target was a particular tree, and the person who came the closest to marking it would be declared the winner. They had the entire next day to prepare, which involved filling up on appropriate fluids. Finally, the loser would have to satisfy a fantasy of the victor’s choosing. In the event of a tie, each party would have to satisfy a fantasy of the other’s choosing.
Marcy and Gerald spent the whole of the next day preparing for the contest. Each time she had to pee, Marcy practiced urinating from a standing position, which became easier for her the more she did it. Although Gerald and Marcy remained cordial, neither could resist making occasional snide comments about the other’s chances (or, more appropriately, lack thereof) of winning. Each was excited, eagerly anticipating the next day’s proceedings.
One never can tell what a little rivalry might inspire. That night, despite their competitive natures -- or perhaps because of them -- Marcy and Gerald enjoyed some of the most impassioned lovemaking they had ever experienced. In the warmth of afterglow, they fell asleep, Marcy cradled in Gerald’s arms.
The next morning, they awoke to the sound of birds, and Marcy opened the window shade to let in the sunlight. Gerald pointed out a red-winged blackbird, much to Marcy’s delight, and they watched it while kissing and snuggling like high-school sweethearts. After a small but satisfying breakfast, Gerald smiled wickedly at Marcy and proclaimed, “Let the games begin!”
Still nude (both avid naturists, they seldom bothered to put on clothes when in or near the cabin) Gerald and Marcy took their respective places. “You go first, Gerry,” said Marcy, smiling sweetly.
