“Part Four to a Brand New Story…‘Wet Between the Legs’“
“I have to get in the zone to pee, funny, because when I have to go on my own it just spurts out, in front of somebody I have to relax, close my eyes and wait.”
He understood as he massaged my thong covered pussy, my nylon clad thighs.
Here I was, a groen woman, standing in my tub, skirt hiked above my waist, jacket still on, glasses still on, waiting to pee in front of a stranger. What a sight. I think back to my designing days and think who would have thought it would have come to this?
It’s still intriguing as hell, what makes the mind tick.
I wonder what got him going on this kind of fetish, what his childhood was like as most fetishes seem to fester and mature from childhood.
I should have asked but I was trying to get into the’ zone’ to make his day worthwhile, the money he is spending worthwhile.
What if I had said ‘No” to this, then what would we have done? I wonder to myself.
Finally I could feel the urge to pee travelling down like it should. He is tickling my pussy harder now as I say it is about to happen. My eyes are still closed shut, but I would have given loads to see his face.
The spurt of pee shoots through my thong, twisting and dribbling down and through the stayups, onto the floor of the white tub, through my arches and down the drain.
“Wonderful,” he exclaims, his hands rubbing it all over the whole stockings.
“Push your legs together,” he asks pushing my legs together.
“There is more to be had. I am not finished yet. I can pee a lot when I get going,” I laugh yet again surprised and gainfully interested in his reactions to the steamy, musky smell of fresh pee dribbling down my legs.
I didn’t feel even remotely humiliated as it is a job for me and, hey for $600 I can do this.
“Everything is washable,” I grin.
He is in heaven, giggling and finally verbal with each squirt.
When I was done he wanted me to keep everything on.
Well, at least it wasn’t dripping all over the place as he had swooshed it into my stockings.
“So, now to the bedroom?”
“Yes, yes.”
“Do I finally get to see you without your clothes on?”
No kisses, no hugs, just small smiles and studious retorts.
“So let’s see what I get to play with,” I jest as I help him unbutton the small buttons of his crumpled, but I am sure expensive pale blue dress shirt, his silver buckled belt and skinny legged slacks.
He looked quite forlorn in his brown socks and thin legs but his cock unfurled to astronomic lengths.
“You should have no problem in the Swinger’s clubs with a thing like that. You have a cliché black boy’s cock young man,” I laugh as I fondle this instrument of torture.
“I used to date only black guys and many would have a piece like this. Mind you now that I think of it it was’;t the ‘piece’ that set them apart it was what they could do with it…bubble butts grinding and swaying, yes, swaying, that was the key…they fuck like they dance…the West Indian guys that is , those are the black guys I was familiar with…hmmm, I wistfully remember those days and enjoy the odd time when a well hung black gent comes my way in the biz.”
To be continued….
I am on a roll….I will continue the storyline even though
It’s the official end of the year…my last post for the year…the end of the specific aforementioned Holiday Specials
The New Year will bring new thoughts, new activities..a refreshed website…a new way of offering my services..
Keep posted!
In the meantime, have a wonderful New Year’s celebration no matter how you do ‘it’
Be safe, be sane, be jolly!
Hugs
Madame Lucie
Your ever optimistic, die hard, sexual companion…some things just cum with Experience…smiles

By sweetjuicylucy
416 433-1144
Blackberry
www.sweetjuicylucy.com