“If it weren’t so damn hot, I’d wanna fuck,” Nick says, tilting the fan to blow across our faces.

“Me too, I answer, “But ugggggh.” I get up to refresh our drinks.

“Lots of ice this time,” he calls out.

I return, handing Nick his drink, the glass already dripping with condensation. A dribble falls on his belly and slides down, disappearing under the waist of his shorts. I’m suddenly mesmerized.

I fish one ice cube from my glass and hold it between my fingers. I place it on his neck and he shudders with pleasure. I drag the ice slowly along the top of his shoulder, it melts into a little cascade down his chest. I grab another. 

Nick closes his eyes as I trace ice down his arm, then around his nipples. Tiny goosebumps follow the wake of the trails. He sighs. I take another ice cube into my mouth and hold it to his lips. His eyes flutter open and he takes the ice from me into his own mouth.

Lifting my shirt, he takes my nipple into his mouth. My nipple stiffens instantly, coming in contact with the ice. It’s a study in constrasts, the heat of his lips, the chill, the tiny cool stream that trails down, dripping onto my leg.

He sucks one nipple, then the other. I take another ice cube, unzip his shorts, and slide my hand downward, teasing his inner thigh. Nick responds, pressing the rapidly melting ice against my cunt. Suddenly, we’re all hands and mouths and water and sweat. I cool my mouth off with a long drink of water, then plunge my lips around his cock. His fingers enter me, and we stroke each other in unison. My head bobs up and down, his fingers slide in and out.

He breaks rhythm, then enters me again, the cold inside of me is a shock. As he fingers me, the ice melts rapidly, trickling down over my clit. Sweat runs down my face, drips onto his cock. I taste the salt from both of us as I continue to suck him off.

My cunt is dripping wet. Nick spanks his hand lightly against my pussy, tiny droplets splatter my thighs. He strikes again, harder. I drag my teeth against the surface of his cock in response.

We turn animal, lost in both the pleasure and the heat. I flip over onto my back, he pins my shoulders and fucks me. Sweat runs off his forehead, we’re both slick as we rut against each other. He loses his grip on my shoulders. We ram into each other, violent waves crashing against rock. We reek of sex and salt.

I feel his first tiny shudder. We rock back and forth, clinging to each other. I cry out, he bucks. We pull apart, sticky, overheated and exhausted. We now only touch fingertips, too hot to embrace any longer.

Every time I shower for the next couple weeks I try to pee standing up. It’s not easy. As a girl it’s been so completely ingrained to sit that I can only force out a few pathetic drops. This isn’t going to satisfy anyone. The girls in the porn flicks seem to piss out gallons and I know that’s what Shane wants. I watch video after video of girls peeing on girls, girls peeing on guys and every other combination.

I keep trying. Shane asks me occasionally how it’s going. I notice the hope in his eyes when I have to pee right before sex, and the disappointment when I tell him I’m not ready yet.

One day, I drink two big glasses of water and hold it until I’m nearly ready to burst, then I get in the shower. I hold the shower head between my legs and close my eyes. As I relax, it pours out of me in a big warm stream.

I tell Shane I’m ready.

On the appointed night, I drink glass after glass of water, trying both to increase the volume and dilute the taste. I’m at the bursting point. Shane says he’ll be ready a moment, then sees me standing cross-legged and finally gets the idea. He turns the shower on and we both get in. My bladder aches, but suddenly I get shy.

Shane is on his knees in front of me, the water from the shower flows over my shoulders and drips down my naked body. I close my eyes and try to relax, but it’s harder than I thought it would be. I let out a dribble, then the stream stops. Shane places his hands on my thighs and gazes up at me. He’s so gorgeous, so hopeful. I close my eyes again and finally…the dam bursts and my pee arches from my body.

Shane positions his mouth under my stream. His cock stiffens instantly. He slowly strokes himself as my piss fills his mouth. He doesn’t swallow it, only letting it fill his mouth and running out the sides. He’s loving every second of it. I try to make it last as long as possible, but my bladder empties. Shane rocks back on his heels, letting the shower rinse him off. I turn around, placing my hands against the shower wall. Shane slides into me, pounding my cunt hard, all the while telling me what a dirty, dirty slut I am.

A few weeks later we’re at a kitchen store, I catch Shane looking at funnels. He’s feeling the edges of each of them. I suddenly realize what he’s up to.

“Is that an ass funnel you’re looking at?” I ask him in all seriousness. He nods. After our encounter in the shower, Shane confessed to me that what he really wanted was for me to pee in his ass.

“You filthy little ass whore,” I whisper to him.  We pick out a green silicone funnel, hoping that it will serve our dirty purpose. It’s hard to keep a straight face as the clerk rings us up and tells us she has a funnel just like that and how much she likes it.

So, how does one prepare to piss into someone’s asshole?

First we make a dry run. We get naked and combine ourselves into every conceivable position, checking angles and possibilities like crazed engineers. Shane is excited as hell. We decide the bed will work better than the small bathtub, both for comfort and maximum flexibility.

I spread several thick towels over the bed. Shane lays on his back and brings his knees to his chest. I lube his ass and insert the funnel.

“Ready?” I ask him.

“Uh huh,” he answers, peering up through his legs. His hand is already working his stiff cock.

I crouch over the funnel and let a stream of piss go. Just in time, I think to look down.

“Uh..” I say;

“What?” Shane says.

“Hey, you know what we forgot about?” I ask, “Air exchange. It’s just sitting there, it’s not going down.”

“Fuck,” Shane mutters.

I slowly pull out the funnel, hoping the pee will seep into Shane’s ass, but it doesn’t. Shane spreads his ass cheeks wide, and it helps a little, but doesn’t solve the problem.

Finally we decide to pack towels around Shane’s ass and to hope for the best while he makes a mad dash to the bathroom. I hear the shower running, and he returns a few minutes later, smiling.

“Even though that didn’t quite work, you tried, and you tried for me, and that was fucking hot as hell,” Shane says, giving me a deep kiss. His fingers wander, and he slides one deep inside me.

There you are, dressed for the prom, your arm around her. I’ve not seen a single photo of you in more than twenty years. Every memento I had of you, every photo, every note we passed in class, was destroyed by a jealous boyfriend back when we were still young.

He was right to be suspicious.

You were my first boyfriend, you sat in front of me in seventh grade Mythology. I’ve made this into my own myth. Tall, taller even then me, brown eyes, brown hair, people asked if we were brother and sister. “He’s trouble,” is what everyone said when I’d mention your name.

Notes passed back and forth until the first snowfall, our first kiss. I mimicked what I saw in movies, wide hungry mouth, hands pressing the back of your head. I shoved my tongue down your throat until you pushed me away.

Practice made perfect.

I’ve been having dreams since I saw your photo. I wake up so thoroughly convinced that I’m still with you that I feel like a time traveler: It’s October, the air is warm, trees rustle. We tentatively hold hands, palms sweaty. Alan sits on the concrete steps outside the wide double doors of the school. We’re all so young, so new to love. None of us has betrayed the other yet, everything is simple. I turn to you to speak and then I wake up in the dark.

I should have waited for you. I’m still convinced of that, even after all this time. We wanted to be each other’s first, even after we’d broken up and reached that age where french kissing is no longer enough. On impulse and by accident, I went first. You were hurt, angry, in that raw way only teenagers can hurt. You went on a camping trip. I heard it right from Mary Ann, she was apologetic. I couldn’t be angry. I failed us first.

I don’t remember now when we first had sex. I remember the night on the hill, the living room, your bedroom, but I don’t know anymore which one came first. I can’t remember what our sex was like, I can’t remember your smell or your touch.

I remember later on, your girlfriends became suspicious when I came back around. They all had good reason. We were each others weakness for years.  I’d sit next to you, head resting on your shoulder, wrapped in a blanket while you’d try to convince the girl on the phone that you were alone, that no, nothing was up, you really were alone. Out of breath because you ran for the phone at three in the morning.

I took satisfaction in those moments, knowing you’d betray anyone for a night with me.

I thought I saw you a few years ago, you know. I went back home for the county fair. You walked by and reflexively, I yelled your name. You didn’t hear me in the din of carnival barkers and merry-go-round music. You were surrounded by romping, giggling children. You picked up a little girl, swung her up on your shoulders, another child clutched your hand.

It hit me. These are your children! I’d never considered you’d gone on to have a life of your own. That you’d marry too, you’d build a life after we moved on, grew up and ventured out into the world.

In my mind, we’re frozen somewhere in time, twelve years old, kissing as the snow falls around us.

I want to ache from your whims. Wrap your fingers in my hair, compel me to be still. Hold the vibrator to my clit until I’ve spent every last drop of fluid, then force me to come again. Fingers, cock, dildos, fists, cram it all in, stretch me to the limit. Fill me with you.

Restrain me. Make my hands useless little clenching butterflies. Pin me to the bed like a specimen to be opened and examined. Tie the ropes tighter. Make me ache to wrap my legs around your waist, to pull you closer.

Leave me a drooling, mewling mess. Let my cries and screams and moans be muffled. Watch me choke on your cock, tears rolling down my face. Hold my head tight against your groin as your dick tickles the back of my throat.

Clamps on my nipples, my breasts, the tender inside skin of my wrists. Make the clothespins on my cunt clatter as you fuck me. Blindfold me, take away my sight. All your movements become meaningless blurs and shadows. Noises sharpen, even familiar sounds amplify, create equal fright and longing.

I want my suffering to please you as much as my coming. Shower me with little kisses. Wipe away the drool and the snot and the come and tell me I’m your good girl. Such a good girl.

Taking a much needed vacation and heading out to Austin, Texas for SXSW, so I’ll see you back here in a couple of weeks!

He went back to his ex-girlfriend, now they’ve split up. He wants sympathy from me, and I give it to him. Damon tells me all the ways Julie was such a fucking cunt, how he was wrong to leave me. How she left him for someone else, stupid bitch. I tell him I forgive him for everything. For the split lip, for leaving me, all of it. I love him, I tell him over and over, hoping to erase his pain.

“Come home,” he says finally. So I do.

The house is strewn with litter, pizza boxes stacked up on the table, empty two liters roll around on the floor. Nothing’s changed. Damon greets me with open arms and I fall into them, weeping with gratitude.

“I missed you, baby,” Damon says, pulling my shirt over my head. I follow him upstairs. He’s switched bedrooms in the months since I’ve been away, choosing the smaller, darker room over the big sunnier one we shared. He kicks something red and lacy under a pile of clothes before I can see it. Did Julie insist that he move things around? I’m disoriented. It feels like we left off yesterday, but too many things are different.

I unzip his fly, he has new underwear, black and blue striped. Did he buy those for her? Did she buy them for him? We lay back on the bare mattress. There aren’t even sheets on it, just a dirty rumpled blanket that he shoves aside. He lays on top of me, yanking my panties down. Did he fuck her here?

We have homecoming sex and I try to not cry. I won. He loves me, not her. All my wishing made it so. Damon fucks me and I cling to him. He never opens his eyes, even when we kiss.

With a grunt, he comes, rolls off of me. He sits on the edge of the mattress and looks for his cigarettes. There are long red scratches down his back, fresh, but not from me. He lights two Camels, hands me one. He sees the question before I can ask it and cuts me off.

“Hey, you know what?” he exclaims, “the rats had more babies!”  We had each started out with one of our own, then he started breeding them to sell to the pet shop.

“Show me!” I say.

Damon gets up, throws on a shirt and his underwear. I cover myself with the dirty blanket and smoke while I wait for him.

He comes back with a box full of baby rats. I peer in, there’s at least a dozen. Inside the box is a moving collage of pink and white little bodies climbing over each other.

Damon pulls the blanket from me, lays down. He tips the box on it’s side and the babies run out, up our arms and legs. A few run across my bare stomach, their tiny claws tickle and I laugh. The sunshine streams in suddenly through the window. We lay together, watching the rats crawl over us and through the sunbeams. I smile, genuinely, for the first time in months.

The box arrives, sleek, black and modern, as if it were designed by Apple. We open it to reveal a cock ring and a small charger.

The Tor II is small enough to fit in the palm of my hand. My partner looks skeptical. The finish is pleasing, luxuriously silky to the touch.

“I don’t think I’m going to fit in that,” he says, holding it up.

“It’s really stretchy,” I say hopefully. I plug it in to charge and press one of the buttons on the side.  It makes a low whrrrrrrrr sound.

“Oh.” I’m disappointed. I can barely feel it vibrate.Then I press the button on the side again. And again. I click it a few times, as high as it will go. It nearly vibrates off my hand.

“OH!” I say, shoving it down the front of my panties, “This is nice!”

I let it charge for a couple hours, then we take it out for a spin.

We climb into bed, he lubes his cock and the inside of the ring. Just as I predicted, it stretches out far enough for him to fit into. We crank it to eleven and I lay on my back. I grab his cock, feel the vibrations down his whole length and pull him into me.

He enters me, fucking me hard, then slow. We try several variations of the missionary. The cock ring vibrates strong and steady, it’s definitely pleasant, but it’s not blowing either of us away. Until…

“Let me come at you from behind,” he says.

“For science!” I agree. I get on my knees and he slides in me with the TOR II going full blast.

“Ooooooh,” I exclaim, “This is good, no, I take that back, it’s…ooooohhh…WOW.” My ability to form words suddenly short circuits as the vibrations hit the right spot.

Usually in this position, I like to hold a vibrator on my clit. It’s always a bit awkward trying to reach between my legs while I’m getting hammered from behind. This is a total replacement.

“How’s this?” he asks.

I reply with a muffled moan into my pillow. This is beyond my expectations. I’m not missing my favorite vibrator at all. The ring hits my clit with surprising accuracy, sending tiny explosions of pleasure through me with each thrust. I come almost immediately.

“I want to try something else,” he says.

“Can we write this sex off on my taxes?” I ask as we pause, “I mean, it technically is work.”

He pulls the TOR II off his hard cock, and then tries to pull it over his balls. It takes a minute, the device isn’t that stretchy, but he manages to pull everything through.

“Ahhhhhhh,” he leans back a moment, eyes closed. I place my hand on his balls, everything is humming along nicely.

I get back on my knees and he enters me again.

The sensation on my end is significantly dampened, but he’s clearly enjoying it more now. I reach around and hold the toy and his vibrating balls up against my clit. It still feels good, but it’s not as strong for me in this configuration. Normally he’s really into having his balls restrained when we fuck, the strong vibrations are only adding to his pleasure.

He’s still excited and I’ve had several small orgasms by this point, so I ask him if he wants something else. I offer to peg him with the TOR II around my strap-on, but he’s enjoying the sensation on his balls to much to take it off.

I give him a good hard ass fucking, and after he comes, he takes the cock ring off. I slide it around my cock and tell him to feel how heavily it vibrates.

“Oh,” he says, feeling it. “I wish I would’ve let you do that in the first place!”

“Next time,” I answer with a smile.

***

Additional thoughts: The TOR II is powerful enough to completely replace my favorite handheld vibrator while I’m having sex. It’s more powerful and less complicated to use.

We’re both genuinely surprised and pleased with the entire product. The small size of the ring doesn’t get in the way, there aren’t any odd or rough corners to distract from the sensation. It’s very well made and completely waterproof. It’s on the expensive end, a bit over one hundred dollars, but I think it’s well worth the price. This toy is going to be a favorite for a long time to come. Simply put, it’s fucking amazing!

The only thing I didn’t like was trying to turn it off. There are inset buttons marked + and – on either side. To turn it up you have to repeatably click the plus sign, to turn it down, you push the minus sign, but there is no instant off switch. It was rather difficult to turn it off when my hands were covered post-sex lube and (ahem) other slippery substances.

Since the first test run, he’s used it around his balls during masturbation and says he likes it better for that purpose than during sex. Next time I peg him though, we’re going to put it on my cock and see if that changes his mind.

Get yours here and let me know what you think! Questions? Leave ‘em in the comments and I’ll answer them.

Addendum: The big part that housed the vibrator was facing downwards while we had sex. He briefly tried it the other way around to see if it would vibrate against my ass, but it was really uncomfortable.