Laughing All the Way to the Bathroom

The sun was setting majestically on the ocean, and the crowds on the beach had dispersed, but there were still quite a few sun–worshippers there. The beaches never emptied entirely on their island. Through her sunglasses, Rosemary looked up from her novel and admired the sunset. Another long, slow, beautiful day in paradise was coming to a close, and after nearly ten years she was finally beyond the too good to be true stage. It was true. She really lived here, and she really was a hero for the very reason she’d been ostracized back home. She set the book down on her lap and pondered that thought once again.
Naturally, since she’d stopped concentrating on the book, it wasn’t long before Rosemary’s attention turned to her bladder. Lying there on her beach chair and admiring the sunset, she soon noticed herself squirming with her trademark fullness. She looked at her watch and was surprised. It had, she realized, been well over an hour since her last sojourn into the water to – as they used to say back home – relieve herself. Such a negative term for such a beautiful event was never used here, especially not in conjunction with Rosemary, who was renowned for her copious peeing, but old habits die hard and she still used the phrase privately now and then.
An hour was about as long as she ever tried to go anymore unless she was scheduled for a public event of some kind, and she was surprised at her own endurance. Stretching, Rosemary sat up and set the book aside on top of her tote bag to consider her condition. With the brazenness that came with living in a place that celebrates the human body and its functions rather than acting ashamed of them, she placed her hands on her lower abdomen to feel her bladder. It was indeed distended, and she could feel the rigid pressure just beneath the bright red cloth of her swimsuit. The pressure made the already considerable urge greater, but Rosemary was fascinated by how much she seemed to be holding and didn’t let go just yet. Instead she removed her hands and looked down at her body. Someone else wouldn’t have noticed the bulge in her swimsuit, but she was quite sure she could see the difference her fullness made. She smiled at the recognition, and felt herself getting moist between her thighs as the anticipation of release and the likely accompanying praise that was soon to come.
That condition had always defined Rosemary, for better AND for worse. For the first seventeen years or so of her life, Rosemary was known for having to pee frequently; in not quite a decade since then, she was known for being able to pee frequently. One and the same, yet it made all the difference! Throughout her childhood and adolescence, Rosemary knew that kids would pick on anyone who was different, and that if it weren’t her bathroom habits, it would be something else they would use to tease her, just like so many other kids were teased. So she did her best to grit her teeth and ignore the cries of “She’s leaking!” and “Baby Pissypants!” every time she was excused to use the bathroom, which was at least twice as often as most of her classmates. There were good days and bad days, good classes and bad classes, but it was not a happy way to grow up.
Her family wasn’t much help. Rosemary’s beautiful and popular older sister and rebellious younger brother could be just as cruel as the kids at school, and her mother never missed a chance to criticize Rosemary for taking so much time in the one bathroom in their house, as if she had a choice. Early on in life, a trip to the doctor had established that there was nothing really wrong with her – “Some people just have to go more than others,” he’d told Rosemary and her mother – so there was no hope for change and no comforts to come home to after being teased at school. By high school Rosemary was just hanging on for adulthood, hoping to get away after graduation, to somewhere where people either wouldn’t notice or wouldn’t care how many times a day she peed. Not that she could imagine where such a place might be.
Only one person in her life offered any comfort, and he was only slightly in her life. Jason was a year ahead of Rosemary in school, and had the same problem she did. Jason was shy, quiet, but stoic and didn’t let the teasing get him down like she did. Of course they became friends and he was supportive when she needed it, but she couldn’t recall ever actually talking about the problem they had in common. Just one of those things people didn’t discuss back in the bad old world. But then even Jason disappeared, for a while.
It was early in junior year – senior year for Jason – when Rosemary noticed he was gone. No one else seemed to miss him, but she certainly did. After no contact all summer, she was looking forward to seeing her comrade, but he was nowhere to be found. For an agonizing month, Rosemary soldiered on to school on her own and learned once again to go it alone. She was just about resigned to making it the rest of the way through on her own when the miracle happened.
The miracle came at the end of what had started as one of the worst days of her life. They’d had a substitute teacher in history class, and while Rosemary’s regular teachers knew her well enough to let her use the girls’ room whenever she needed it, the subs did not. This particular guy was a stickler for the rules, and, Rosemary thought ever after, he also probably got a kick out of seeing her squirm. About halfway through class, Rosemary knew she had to go. Now. Not in 20 more minutes when the bell would ring, but now. The teacher didn’t agree. “You’re almost a grown up, young lady, you can hold it,” he’d said.
“But–”
“No buts. You can go after class.”
“But I don’t think I can–”
“AFTER CLASS!” he repeated, to the giggling delight of several of Rosemary’s classmates. Humiliated even if her classmates already knew about her condition, Rosemary had no choice but to try to hang on. For ten minutes she managed okay with just crossing her legs tightly. Then for five more, vibrating her legs and squeezing her pee–hole did the trick; but with five minutes to go, the pressure was just too much. Rosemary clinched the sides of her chair with her hands and rocked her pelvis back and forth just to at least shift the worst pressure–points around from one part of her bladder to another, not caring that several of her peers were openly staring at her and one or two were laughing quietly.
The bell rang at last, and Rosemary heaved a quiet sigh of relief. She uncrossed her legs to stand up – and that did it. Even before she was all the way out of her seat, Rosemary could feel the flood warming and soaking her panties and then her jeans. Deep in denial as she realized what was happening, she reflexively tried to clamp down on the flow. She succeeded in stopping, but the desperation was worse than ever and she quickly let go again as she realized the damage was done. By then the inner thighs of her jeans were visibly soaked most of the way down to her knees, and the evidence was spreading out to the front and back as well. First one girl, noticed and pointed, then two guys started laughing loudly, and soon the whole class could see. Rosemary Pissypants had done it again.
Without a word or a tear, she rushed out of the class, followed by someone’s sarcastic demand that she clean up her mess. Getting more rude attention in the hallway, she finally escaped into the sanctity of her beloved Girls’ Room. There were a few others inside, but there was a free stall. Rosemary locked herself in it, sat down on the toilet without unbuttoning her cold, damp pants – why bother now that she didn’t have to go anymore – and allowed herself to start crying.
She didn’t stop for quite a while, and soon the next class had started and she had the bathroom to herself. No point in going back to class, she thought bitterly. I might just as well stay here now. Her tears mostly dry but her pants still soaked, she stood up and kicked off her shoes. I can at least try to let these dry out, she thought. She undid her jeans and stepped out of them and her sopping panties, and hung them over the stall door. Seeing nothing else to do and not wanting to see another person just then anyhow, she’d sat back down on the toilet and rested her elbows on her chilly thighs.
She hadn’t thought much of it when the door opened. Someone else is cutting class, she figured. But then a voice called her name softly. “Rosemary?”
It was a male voice, unexpected in the girls’ room. “Rosemary?” A familiar one she hadn’t heard in a while.
Through her anger and hurt, a flash of recognition came to Rosemary, and she perked up. “Jason!” She stood up and flung open the stall door to see if it was really him– and it was! “Jason!” She flung her arms around him, not at all embarrassed or ashamed to be naked from the waist down in his presence. “It is you! Where’ve you been? Why are you here?”
“I’m here because you needed me,” he whispered, still holding her tightly. “And I’ve been where you’re going.”
She pulled back, perplexed but still happy to see him. “Where I’m going? What do you mean?”
“There’s a place where they appreciate people like us. I’ve been hoping to get the chance to come for you, but they wouldn’t let me. Not until they saw what happened to you today, anyway.”
Now Rosemary was getting a bit uncomfortable. “How do you know about that? And who’s ‘they’?”
Jason shook his head slightly, but was still smiling and, Rosemary would later remember, he very carefully avoided looking down at her exposed pussy. “It doesn’t matter how I know. You’ll see all that when you get there. The important thing is that you do get there. You don’t deserve this!”
“Get where?” She was confused and even a bit scared, but in her present condition, the idea of going somewhere else sounded wonderful indeed.
“Where I’ve been,” Jason replied. “I got called there this summer, after a day like the one you had. I was waiting tables and the manager wouldn’t let us take any unscheduled bathroom breaks. I had an accident in front of a bunch of customers, got fired on the spot. When I got home that night, I found a bus ticket like this one on my bed.” He pulled a ticket out of his pocket and handed it to Rosemary. “I don’t even know who put it there, but there was a note saying to catch the bus if I never wanted to be ashamed like that again. I was so messed up and depressed I went ahead without really thinking about it. I’m sure glad I did! And I hope you’ll do it too, Rosemary. It’d be wonderful to have you there.” He kissed her gently on the cheek and wiped away a stray tear.
“Have me where, Jason?”
“You’ll see, if you come down to the bus stop tonight!” He gave her another hug, which she returned, and then pulled his backpack off his back. “Oh, here, thought you might like these.” He handed Rosemary a fresh, clean pair each of jeans, panties and socks, all in her size and style.
“How did you know?” Rosemary was delighted, but amazed.
“You’ll see, I promise. Now I have to pee and then I need to go. But if you do come out tonight, I’ll see you when you get where you’re going!” One more kiss on her cheek, and he went into the same stall where Rosemary had been. She heard him put the seat up and undo his pants, and then heard him peeing – hard and fast, just like her most of the time. Suddenly more self–conscious of her nudity even if he hadn’t hassled her at all, Rosemary quickly put on the clothes he’d given her and washed her hands. Jason joined her at the sink and did the same, and then with a wave he was off. “Tonight. I hope you’ll believe me, Rosemary!”
And he was gone. Before the door had even shut, two girls came in, neither of them showing any sign that they’d seen Jason. They did, however, see Rosemary’s damp jeans hanging over the stall door. “Well, well,” one of them said. “Smart enough to bring a change of clothes after all these years, huh?” The other girl burst into peals of laughter. Rosemary didn’t respond. She just walked out of the bathroom, looked at the ticket and made up her mind that she would go to the bus stop. If cracks like that from girls she didn’t even know were all she had to look forward to in life, then whatever Jason had told her about couldn’t be any worse at least.
Rosemary couldn’t remember much about the rest of that afternoon. She’d headed downtown to try to stay out of sight until the appointed hour, that much she could recall, and she was pretty sure she’d spent some time at a bookstore looking for a book or magazine to buy for the trip before realizing that she’d left her wallet in her wet pants at school. Then there was half an hour or so at the bus stop on the corner outside the drugstore, where she saw a few people she knew walking by. Luckily no one asked where she was going, because she still had no idea herself.
The bus got there right on time– even though Rosemary had gotten there so far ahead of schedule. The door opened and a friendly looking older woman waved at her from the driver’s seat. “Hello, Rosemary!” she said cheerfully, with no explanation as to how she knew Rosemary’s name. “We’ve been hoping you could join us tonight. Happy to see you!”
Rosemary gingerly climbed aboard the bus, which was about half full, mostly with teenagers about her age who were asleep. She didn’t recognize any of them. It was a luxury tour–bus, with deep, soft seats and, Rosemary noticed to her relief, a bathroom in the back.
“Have a seat, sweetie, and we’ll take care of the rest,” the driver said, taking Rosemary’s ticket. Rosemary looked out the tinted window at the bus stop and the drugstore behind it, somehow surprised that her hometown was still out there. Her last clear memory of the bad old world was turning away from the window and settling into an empty seat. She was vaguely aware of the door shutting and the bus moving, but the warm air and soft seat and the relief of not having to see anyone after such a miserable day soon had her feeling very sleepy. Rosemary figured later on that she’d fallen asleep before they even got to the next block.
She never did find out how she got to the island. Probably not on the bus! Nor did she recall how she ended up in the luxurious hotel room where she awoke late the next morning, or who provided the closet–full of clothes in her size – not her style at the time, too girly, but her size anyway – that greeted her. But there was no need to worry about any of that, as it turned out. Just like Jason had said, all these things faded away once Rosemary began to discover her new life in this strange, wonderful place.
After showering and dressing (preceded, thanks to the long trip and sleep, by a very long and refreshing pee), Rosemary made her way down to the hotel lobby, where the attendant explained that the first night was free and handed her an information packet about working and living on The Island. That’s all anyone ever called it, she would learn, The Island. Still bewildered, she wandered outside to start her new life. Within an hour of bright sunshine and bright faces, Rosemary had stopped worrying about her life back home. Who cared who was worried about her? They could find someone else to kick around, and maybe Rosemary could become known as someone other than “that girl who has to pee all the time.”
The memory of thinking that made Rosemary laugh now, for that was exactly how she was known – except that here, that was a good thing. And they didn’t call it “having to pee.” They called it being able to pee. Being able to partake in that most basic and universal and naughtily enjoyable part of life. And it was treasured here like nowhere else Rosemary had ever heard of. She hadn’t learned that right away, since in those first hours she’d been determined to keep that part of her to herself, but an afternoon on the beach had set her right.
She’d frittered away most of that afternoon when the revelation came through for her, wandering on the beach in her bare feet with her sandals in her hands, drinking in the sights of her mysterious but wonderful new home. It was all perfectly delightful, but she’d put off peeing for as long as she ever had in her life. There was just too much on her mind to think about that for once, and besides, she hadn’t seen any public restrooms anywhere. But as the time went by and her bladder was growing more balloon–like and ticklish, Rosemary had begun to notice an odd thing. Quite a few people, men and women alike, were lounging or walking around in wet swimsuits – not wet from the sea, but from themselves, wet only around the crotch. And not a one of them looked the least bit uncomfortable with this. A perversely wonderful idea occurred to Rosemary, but she put it out of her mind quickly. Things were already looking too good to be true, and she wouldn’t chance it any further. Besides, after seeing several people who had clearly wet themselves, she was unsubtly reminded of her own increasingly pressing needs.
It was right around the time Rosemary resigned herself to stripping down to her swimsuit and then going in the water to pee that she made the biggest discovery of all. She had spread out a towel on the sand and was removing her shorts when she saw two lines of people, one of men and one of women, all of them fidgeting in a manner too familiar to Rosemary, leading into a crowd. Figuring she could hold for a few more minutes, Rosemary finished undressing and pranced over to the crowd to observe. What she saw shocked her at first, but her shock turned to delight as she recalled bits and pieces of what Jason had told her, less than a day before, incredibly.
Amidst hoots and hollers from the observers, the pair at the head of the line stepped into the clearing, held hands at arm’s length, and at the judges’ signal, they peed. Rosemary watched in amazement as the first pair of contestants to start after her arrival assumed the position. After the lead judge said “go,” she looked back and forth from the man to the woman as small wet spots appeared on both of their suits and then gradually grew bigger until the cloth was saturated and the pee ran down their legs and to the sand. The crowd egged them on and cheered as the man signaled he was done (the woman having already finished, being either faster or smaller–bladdered). The judges announced a score, which Rosemary figured was based on how long and how much they peed, and the couple embraced as they heard their score and stepped to the side.
“I can beat that,” Rosemary whispered under her breath.
“Can you?” asked a woman next to her, not unkindly. “You’re welcome to try. Just pick a guy and get in line.”
“Really?” asked Rosemary after she realized the woman was talking to her.
“Sure, it’s open to all amateurs. Dollar to play, winners split the take.” She motioned to a spot on the sidelines where six young men were waiting hopefully. “That’s where people without partners go until the next one comes along. You’re lucky, we’re short of women today.”
“I don’t –” Rosemary stopped herself. “Okay, I’ll give it a try. Thanks!” She’d been about to say she didn’t have a dollar to play, but perhaps she could get one of the guys to loan her one. Screwing up her courage, she went over to them, and all their eyes lit up as she did! Rosemary had never really known it, given the low self–image that was foisted upon her back home, but with her long, dark hair and slightly plump figure, she was very attractive – all the more so in the lime–green swimsuit she’d chosen, and surely could have had any of them. “Hi, guys,” she said innocently, wrapping one leg around the other for more reasons than one. “One of you wants to join me?”
All six answered at once. “Yeah! Oh yeah. Me! I do.”
“I have one condition,” she said, her confidence growing. “I need someone to spot me a dollar for the pot.”
One of the guys said, “forget it,” but the other five still showed willingness. Rosemary settled on the shortest of the bunch, figuring he might need an ego boost like she’d needed for so long. Clearly thrilled, he took her hand and they joined the line.
“I’m Tommy,” he said a bit shyly.
“Oh. Rosemary. I’m new here, just got in last night.”
“A newbie! That’s great. So you’ve never played this before?”
“Never,” she confirmed. “Looks a little embarrassing, but peeing a lot is my strong point.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Tommy said. “It’s not really mine. I play this a lot, but I don’t win very often.”
“I’m sorry,” Rosemary said sincerely, but she was suddenly a bit worried. It occurred to her that she should have tried to figure out which of the guys could pee the most. But she couldn’t think of any way to do that, and in any case it wasn’t even her dollar. So she added, “Well, maybe I can do well enough for both of us. I have a reputation.”
“Really?” He seemed pleased at this.
“Yeah,” she admitted shyly. “That was my thing back home, in school. The girl who has to pee all the time.”
“Has to pee?” he asked. “You say that like it’s a bad thing!”
“Well, it is,” Rosemary groused.
“Not here!” Tom assured her. “Here it’s a badge of honor. The more you can do it, the better.”
“What?” Rosemary asked, but before Tommy had a chance to correct her, they were at the head of the line. Rosemary, by now quite desperate and more aware of that from watching the contestants ahead of her give in to glorious relief, was more confused – but cautiously delighted – than ever.
At last, Rosemary and Tommy were up. Tommy dropped the two dollars in the pot, took both Rosemary’s hands in his, and they stood, legs spread, facing each other. Rosemary could barely hold on at this point, especially with her legs apart, but she only had to do so for a few seconds before the judge said, “And, go!” For the second time in as many days– and as many lifetimes– Rosemary found herself putting on a show. But whereas the day before had been a depressing disaster, today it felt like a triumph. With the encouragement of the crowd and Tommy smiling at her, she felt the gushing pee warm the crotch of her swimsuit, then work its way out to her buttocks and hips and finally out onto her bare legs, which the streams tickled slightly as they made their way down to the sand. She watched in awe as the same happened with Tommy, having never seen a man pee before; his baggy shorts grew splotchy at first and then thoroughly soaked and soon his feet were outlined by damp rings in the sand. Still peeing hard, Rosemary looked down to see the same around her own feet. And she couldn’t even feel the end coming yet!
Tommy finished shortly after she looked back up at him, and he nodded at the judges to signal as much. The judges looked surprised. Later on it occurred to Rosemary that it was probably rare for the man to finish first in these competitions. She was not only not finished yet– she was still going full force. After another ten seconds, Tommy was looking as surprised as the judges at his partner, who was grinning ear to ear and basking in the sudden celebrity as she felt her overfilled bladder drain; the end was finally near.
“Okay…” she said tentatively as she felt the last bit come out. “There,” she said as the stream finally ran dry. The crowd, she realized as she stepped back, had grown silent. “What?” she said, a bit confused. “Did we do something wrong?”
But everyone else was looking at the judges, who were conferring. “Ten,” one of them finally announced, to thunderous applause and everyone within reach clapping Rosemary on the back. In the confusion, she heard a number of comments, “Amazing.” “Wow!” “What did you drink?” “And you’re new at this?”
“Ten,” she repeated to Tommy. “So that’s good?”
“Good!” Tommy gushed. “It’s a perfect score! It hardly ever happens! We won!”
“We won?” she repeated.
“Unless somebody else gets another ten now, yeah!” He threw his arms around her, and as the news dawned on her, she returned the wet hug. “I’m so glad you came by!” he joked.
“Magnificent,” one of the judges said to Rosemary once they were disentangled. “I’m really impressed with how much you held and the way you released it so gracefully and steadily. You must have had a lot of practice!”
“You could say that,” Rosemary said with a grin.
Now, across the years, Rosemary laughed at her own joke. What an introduction to the island. She and Tommy had indeed won the prize, which gave her enough money to buy one more night in the hotel. Then it was off to find work the next day, and soon she was settled in to a small cottage just off the beach and a job at one of the many drinking establishments along the main drag. Her natural abilities had led to many more prizes and invitations to appear in shows around the island, and she now owned one of the bigger houses in town which she regularly shared with men she “worked” with on the beach. It had taken a long time to sink in, but it was real and it was wonderful.
But Rosemary’s trip down memory lane was cut short by a reminder of the circumstance that had led her here in the first place. Without really thinking about it as she reminisced, she had moved her right hand in between her legs to help hold back the flood. Realizing this, she laughed to herself and looked up to see a few admirers looking on.
“Oh, hi,” she said without a trace of shame. “Just got carried away with holding off,” she explained.
“I can identify,” said one of the onlookers, turning towards Rosemary to show that her bikini bottoms were damp. She then turned to the younger of her companions, a young blond guy whom Rosemary had never seen before. “Rosemary is a legend here. She can pee with the best of them.” She turned back to Rosemary. “This is Nick. He’s new.”
Rosemary stood up and extended her hand. “Hi, Nick. Are you over being shocked yet?”
Nick laughed. “Getting there,” he said.
“He’s getting there, all right,” said the other woman, whose name Rosemary couldn’t remember. Such was life as a minor celebrity, everyone knowing your name whether you know his or hers or not. “But he’s still holding on for the first time, if you know what I mean.”
“Well, that’s understandable,” Rosemary said, smiling at the handsome young man. “It’s overwhelming the first time, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” he said shyly. “But you do get over it?”
“I did,” Rosemary replied. “I just walked down the beach until I had to go right now, and–”
“And she won a contest,” the other woman laughed. “I was there that day, it’s become a legend. That’s why I wanted to introduce you, she’s good with the new people since her own story was so great.” She nodded knowingly at Rosemary, who smiled back and nodded her consent. “Okay, I’m off for a bedtime swim, Nick, I’ll see you soon!”
Before Nick knew what had happened, his companion was frolicking off to the water and he was left alone with Rosemary. “So, you live here? On the beach?” he asked after an awkward silence.
“Yes,” Rosemary said gently. “Just up the hill. Let me show you.” She took his hand and led him up over the sand dune into her secluded backyard, which was mostly more sand. “This is where I come when I want to be outside on my own,” she explained, “Only that doesn’t happen very often. People here are so friendly. But it’s nice to have the space.” She beckoned to a table and lawn chairs in one corner. “Have a seat. Would you like a drink?”
“Maybe, but…” he squirmed a bit. “Can I use your bathroom first? I really have to pee.” His request reminded Rosemary once again of her own condition, which was by now dire. The walk over the hill had kept things in check for a while longer, but she definitely couldn’t hold it much longer herself, especially not while watching Nick fidget.
So Rosemary just laughed gently. “Me too. But don’t think of it as ‘having’ to pee, Nick. Think of it as being able to pee!” She was amazed at how long that one had taken her, but if she’d done it, he could too. “And you’re free to do it here. In fact…” Without any hesitation, Rosemary peeled her swimsuit straps down and slowly pulled the suit off. Standing joyfully nude before her young friend, she smiled, “Feel free to join me whenever you like.” With that she unleashed a torrent of pee, which splashed hard and fast in the sand around her feet. Hands on her hips, she arched her back and let out a sigh as she sprayed, looking Nick up and down as she did. Nick looked on, amazed, his trunks bulging so far out it looked like they might rip in half.
Before that could happen, he pulled them off and walked gingerly toward Rosemary, his erect penis resting in his right hand. “Beautiful,” he whispered.
“Join in whenever you like,” said Rosemary, who was still gushing at full force.
“I can’t, right now, but…” Nick trailed off, drinking in the sight.
Rosemary smiled in recognition. How could she have forgotten men can’t pee when they’re aroused? Poor thing can’t let go now that I’m here with him like this, she thought to herself. As her bladder finally finished emptying, she turned to him and placed her hands on his sides. “I see what you mean, Nick. But we can take care of that too.”
“You mean–”
“Yes.” Gently she took his hand and placed it between her damp thighs, delighting in the feel of his young touch in her most intimate spot. “Yes, Nick.” She kissed him lightly, then harder, and soon his hands had found their own way around her body. Rosemary quickly followed suit, eliciting delighted moans from Nick.
It didn’t take her long to direct him to the beach blanket she kept spread out near the garden fence, just for this use. Soon she had him prone and was straddling him on the blanket, with the young man looking adoringly up at her and reaching deep inside her. Knowing how full he was and how that felt with another person on top of you, she was gentle. Gentle but firm. She rocked back and forth, slowly, slowly, listening for Nick’s responses, which were soon forthcoming. She could hear him getting more lost in the moment, and as he did, she pushed harder and faster.
Nick’s youth and inexperience and his full bladder meant he couldn’t go at it forever, but Rosemary knew these things from experience and had herself squared away in a matter of minutes. “Ready, Nick?” she asked him breathlessly.
“Yeah.”
“Ready?”
“Yes!”
She ground into him harder than ever, and felt herself going off the deep end in a wave of delight. While savoring her own sensations, she felt his reaction splashing wonderfully inside her. He was writhing and laughing as he came, and then as he came down from the high. Soon enough, as she sat breathlessly but triumphantly atop him, she could feel his erection receding and knew his predicament would be solved momentarily.
“Think you can go now?” she asked coyly.
“Oh, yessssssss,” he said. “Yes. I can. Ohhhhh. Yes. I gotta go. Bad.”
Rosemary gently dismounted him and lay on her side, enjoying the show as Nick got up from the blanket and looked around for something to hide behind. Finding nothing, he went over to the same, still–wet spot where Rosemary had put on her show for him, and tried to let loose with his back turned. Then, remembering that he’d had a full frontal view, he turned around and smiled at her as he aimed his flaccid penis at the sand and let loose, giving her an equally open view.
He went on for quite a while, perhaps as long as Rosemary had done on that first day, even. Admiring him from the blanket, she was more than impressed. “Oh, Nick,” she said appreciatively, “You’re going to fit right in around here.”
“You think?” he asked, sounding a bit surprised. “This never did me any favors before, I’ll tell you that. I got laughed at in school all the time for how often I had to pee.”
“That’s perfect,” she reassured him.
“Perfect?” He looked skeptical as he finished up and returned to Rosemary’s side.
“Perfect, Nick,” she assured the younger man as she welcomed him back into her embrace. “I used to get teased all the time too,” she whispered. “But not here. Here it’s people like us who get the last laugh. We’re laughing all the way to the bathroom.”
E–mail welcome (I am male): skirtgirl410REMOVETHIS@hotmail.com
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