First Beer Rescue Ch. 01

I tugged, and the pants moved up her leg; the one I was working on pointing straight up in the air, the other dangling loosly next to it, trapped by the waist that held her legs together. The smell of her urine was strong, gathered as it was in her denims, and now closer to me. I finally got most of a leg off one, the waistband at her ankle, and worked the other. Her legs made the work harder, holding them up like that. I noticed goose bumps on her raised thighs, the wet flesh exposed and cooling in the air. The loose wet denim hung over her feet, her legs still held together, raised in the air. Despite my fitness my arms were getting tired.

As I worked the waist of her piss-soaked jeans off one ankle and past her foot I sighed with relief. Almost done. I released the one bare leg, setting it down, still holding the far one up in the air to extract it from the wet fabric. Her released leg settled down, curling into itself on an angle, and I froze.

Released from the fabric binding them together, her thighs parted, and I was staring at her completely exposed pussy, the hairless lips looking for all the world like a ripe fleshy peach. Wrong, wrong, wrong, I heard the voice in my head, but I stared, so help me, I stared at the sight of her beautiful exposed pussy, her full outer lips neatly hiding everything, the slit between them delicate and beautiful. I knew I would never forget it, and felt a wave of shamed delight. I stood there, one of her legs still in the air, gazing in wonder.

I took a deep breath and resumed pulling, but had lost my focus, and the fabric caught on her heel. I tugged and wrestled with it, lifting her leg with the fabric, pulling her hips up in the air as I struggled, but my eyes were between her legs, damn them. I pulled unthinking, her hips lifting higher, her foot jammed worse in the wet fabric as her other leg fell away, opening her wider. I saw her pussy lips begin to open, exposing the pink slit between her labia. I held her bare leg to my chest, felt the cooling dampness against my skin, and used my other hand to slowly work the fabric over her foot, my hands moving without looking, my eyes between her legs.

It was the chill maybe, or she'd had more than I thought. But I saw it, my eyes glued to the pink flesh pointing straight up at me, open and exposed, elevated by my efforts. A golden trickle emerged from between her pink lips, spilling down her stomach and pooling in her navel before running down her sides and between her little breasts. I froze, and stared in wonder. The tickle grew, lifting from her body as a small fountain, then increased to a stream, lifting from her to rise in the air and splash down on her body, the direction altered by her raised and angled hips.

She was pissing on herself, and I was entranced; so help me I couldn't turn away. I held her leg to my chest and watched her golden flow shoot from between her labia, arc through the air and splash noisily on her stomach and breasts, turning the thin fabric translucent as she soaked herself in her own piss. I heard the sounds of her urine as it struck her, saw the golden rivulets running down her sides, saw her naked flesh coated and bathed in her piss. I pulled on her leg and the angle deepened, the arc moving up and for a second splashing across her face, wetting her hair and cheek as she slept peacefully, blissfully covering herself in her own piss.

Maybe it was the sound, the splashing, the nearness, I didn't know, but my body took over and I suddenly felt my bladder respond, felt the pressure in me, urgent to let go. The sensation stirred me, and I removed the rest of the pants leg from over her foot, and lowered her leg as her stream dwindled back to a trickle. Her hips dropped back into the tub, and the remaining dribbles of her urine spilled down; I watched it drop between her lips to her ass as I lowered her legs, one still angled sideways, her pussy still spread and visible.

I don't know why I did it, maybe the residual anger at her pissing on me, maybe the heat of the moment; more likely a sudden loss of reason and perspective. But I dropped the wet jeans at the side of the tub and pulled down the front of my gym shorts. I was breathing heavily, standing next to the tub, seeing her piss covering her, and I let it go.

And oh, did it feel good; not just the release of my bladder, but the thrill of standing there, pissing on my drunk little sister, coating her the way she had coated herself, aiming my stream at her little pink nipples, seeing the droplets slash onto her face, moving my stream to the side of her face, soaking her hair, careful not to get it in her mouth or nose so as not to wake her, sputtering as I pissed on her. I trailed the stream down her body then, and finished my release on her exposed pussy, pissing on the part of her that had pissed on me. My eyes fluttered and I took a shuddering breath, a wave of relief coursing through me, a completeness I had never before experienced. Full circle. Pissing where her piss flowed.

And then I finished. And I panicked, my elation and relief vanished like the dark when a light turns on. Oh, holy shit, I pissed on my little sister! And worse, I enjoyed it! My brain went into overdrive, evil thoughts scurrying for the dark recesses and my active brain searched for cover stories and explanations in case she woke. I pulled my shorts up and went to the sink, wetting a towel in warm water, and returned to the tub. I wiped her clean, getting all the urine off her that I could reach without disturbing her. I removed her bra; it was soaked now, and I wiped her tender little boobs clean, feeling them move under my hand, grateful for the cloth between our flesh. I wiped her legs, her stomach, then rinsed and rewet the towel in warm water, and set to cleaning between her legs, apologizing to her in my head as I wiped my piss and hers from her vagina.

I was a terrible person, I knew, and a worse brother. I was supposed to protect her, I had rescued her from the party. And then I watched her piss herself. And then, to my shame and thrill, had pissed on my drunk little sister. Her protector, pissing on her.

And my dick was full and hard as steel, and my shame increased exponentially.

When she was clean I went to her bedroom and turned down the covers, then returned. I took the big fluffy towel I had set aside and dried her as I sat her up in the tub, then hooked my arms under her and lifted her out, her head lolling onto my shoulder. I carried her to her bedroom and lay her down there, wiping a few last wet places with the towel before covering her naked body. I kissed her forehead and looked at her, listened to her steady breath, seeing her hair still wet, and smelling the piss in it, hers and my own. I felt shame and revulsion and my cock, hard as steel. I stood and hung my head and turned off the light as I exited.

END OF PART ONE