I'm not surprised when Charlotte, instead of trying to get away, pushes all the way back until her asshole is touching the tip of my cock. I glance down to see that we're standing in a pool of my own fluid and smile. When my initial stream peters out, Charlotte leans all the way forward with both hands on the tub and looks back at me.
"Look at what you did."
"I'm not finished," I say, stealing her line from before. I let go another stream and this time, I splash it all over her. I move it from cheek to cheek, and a few times, run it up the length of her back. The flow isn't as strong as before, but it's effective enough to cover her bottom.
Charlotte turns around and looks at me coldly. I can't tell what she's thinking and I wonder for a second if she's pissed. Well, she most certainly is that, but I guess I'm wondering if she's mad.
Without saying a word, Charlotte abruptly walks out of the bathroom. Her backside is still dripping and I see traces of her wet feet on the tile. Without thinking too much about it. I slip into the tub with barely enough water to cover my backside. I turn the faucet labeled "H" on full blast.
Before I'm even settled, Charlotte is back with two bottles of champagne in her hands; both uncorked. She doesn't say a word. Instead, she places both bottles down and shuts off the water. She sits down on the vast expanse of tile that surrounds the tub. It's a one person tub, but it's the sort that's large and oval, with Jacuzzi jets along each side. If you're really determined, you can fit two. We've spent a great deal of time in this tub over the past year and we've become experts in maneuvering in it.
"Why'd you turn off the water?" I ask.
Charlotte replies with a patronizing "Shhh" and takes a swig of Champagne. I reach for the other bottle, but she quickly slides it away. She takes another swig and to no one in particular says,
"Champagne makes me piss like a race horse. It always has." "I think it's the bubbles." She still hasn't looked at me. Instead, she takes another swallow straight from the bottle. "They irritate the bladder or something. I never drink it at parties because I'm always running off to the bathroom right after each glass."
She finally turns her gaze to me. "It's inconvenient to always need to go. Especially when you have company." She cuts me off as I try to speak and continues. "But I guess, you're not company."
"No?" I manage to mutter.
"No, you're the guy who pissed on me when I told you not to. Twice."
"Well, to be fair, you only said it after I did it the first time...so technica-"
I don't get to finish. Charlotte gets up and stands over me, her pussy dangerously close to my face. "Are you being smart?"
"Uh, no."
"I think you were being smart."
"No, I swe-"
She squats down over my cock and lets go. A quick stream that feels hotter on my cock then the water in the tub. Now I understand why she turned off the water. She wanted me to feel her jet. "That, was for pissing all over my ass."
"Ok, truce?"
"I brought both bottles in for a reason."
"You can't drink two bottles of Champagne," I say.
"No, you're going to help me." With that, she takes another swig and then leaning over my dripping face she reaches down and takes hold of my chin. She turns my face up and the look on her face makes me realize she wants me to open wide. As soon as I do, she drips the contents of her mouth into mine.
"Swallow."
I swallow, and she does it again.
"That's a good slut. Now you can have some fun."
She kneels down over my cock and position herself. We've done this a million times before but a voice in the back of my head whispers that it may be the last time. That I need to make it last. I draw out every sensation, every squeeze and every slip, every nanosecond that stretches across the eternity of this minute. It's as if all of our past lovemaking was designed to culminate into this one moment.
I take that soft slippery slide with every fiber of my being.
Charlotte rides me slow. It's a completely different experience from the frenzied sex-crazed woman she was before. As she pumps her hips, she takes swallow after swallow of Champagne. I get at least half the contents of her mouth with each swig. When we get through the first bottle, she puts her head against my shoulder, still straddling my cock and whispers, "Did you really like me pissing all over you?"
"Mmmmm," I respond. I'm still relishing the feeling of each stroke inside of her.
She lifts her head and lock her eyes onto mine. "You want more?"
"Oh my God yes!"