Messy Girl

My neighbor Rebekah and I had liked each other ever since the day almost two decades ago she brought over fresh baked cookies as a housewarming gift and we wound up back at her house laughing and gobbling them up together like school kids because my utilities wouldn't be switched on till the morning. I had been moving furniture and boxes all day and was sweaty so when she joked about my taking a shower at her home it was hard not to take her up on her offer. But my ex and I had been having long talks on the phone every night and had agreed to give things another try so I told Rebekah I had to go and went home to a house that was dark and hot but which belonged to me.

On my way out though Rebekah asked me if I wanted to use her bathroom to "piss" since my water was off. Over the next twenty years I could get hot just thinking about the way Rebekah had emphasized the word, stretching out the sibilants into a hissing sound that mimicked the sound of peeing. It could have been nothing but I thought her lingering on the word had hinted at beautifully kinky urgencies percolating around her psyche and soul. However, my girlfriend moved in two weeks later. Then Rebekah married just before we broke up. Then I married around the time her marriage was failing and so it went for decades without us ever being single at the same time. All the while we would regularly chat as friends and neighbors and both try to keep the flirting at bay since the attraction had grown deeper through the years.

So, when on the hottest day of the year, I opened my door to find Rebekah sweaty and dirty with yard work my heart leapt a bit. I was newly single and was determined to make the most of it. With a sinking feeling though I remembered that Rebekah had been all excited about dating a coworker. I invited her in and catching the scent of her sweat found myself breathing in deeply to savor it. Down boy I thought to myself. I figured she wanted help in the yard but I was wrong. She told me she had purchased a small blow up pool to help beat the heat and asked me If I could bring over my blower and blow it up for her. Since she had mentioned her boyfriend had a pool I asked her about that and she told me she was done with him. I tried to stay composed and told her I would be over in a few minutes but inwardly my heart was racing. I quickly shaved and showered and grabbed the blower and a minute later was knocking on her door. She had unboxed and unrolled the pool on her living room carpet. I suggested we bring it outside but she said she needed a break from the heat and we both laughed at the pool being small enough to fit sideways through her back door. I turned on the blower and in two or three minutes the oddity of a new shiny vinyl pool in the middle of her tastefully decorated and bookshelf lined living room stuck us both as a bit hilarious but there was also a hot edge to it that made the whole experience a bit surreal.

She offered me a drink and in a minute was back with two beers. As she handed one of them to me we looked in each other's eyes lingering just a bit too long. Oh, it was nice. There is something pretty amazing about watching someone you like change from their thirties to their fifties. Sure, there are more curves and everything is softer, but there is more depth, more knowing and even though we had kept each other a bit at bay we still had lots of shared history. So, looking at each other when for the first time in twenty years we were both free to do exactly what we wanted together was intense enough that everything seemed to slow way down and all my senses seemed incredibly heightened and I was sure it was true for her as well. Maybe, crazily, we were a bit nervous too. We certainly drank the beer down fast and the next round as well. It would have been the easiest thing in the world to take her in my arms and kiss her but we had twenty years of easy chat together and were doing it again now. Eventually the topic moved to relationships. For twenty years we had been spectators to each other's partnering and now in a flurry all the dirt was coming out as if the roof had been suddenly lifted on the secret theater of home. We had liked this. We hadn't liked that. Within an hour we pretty much concluded that we had both done ok with relationships without ever quite finding the right balance of flood and firestorm.

"Flood and firestorm" were her words though and I mulled them over as she grabbed two more beers from her fridge. I took a deep drink then asked her to tell me about "flood." When she demurred saying a bit shyly it was a Pandora's Box I didn't really want to open I knew absolutely I had been right that her lingering on the word "piss" twenty years before had not been an accident. I also knew from the almost wistful way she spoke of "Pandora's Box" it went way beyond watersports and that whatever combination of hungers churned through her psyche they had never had a chance to be fully expressed.

"What if I think your "Pandora's Box" is a gorgeous and sacred and crave opening it with every fiber of my being."

How can you possibly know that?

"I know," I explained to her, "because when I am in love I want to do everything two bodies can do, and I have always, always had to hold back because I never found a partner who needed to go as far as I did."

She looked at me hard. "But what if I want, need, crave things that you think are dirty or perverse?"

It was my turn to look at her hard. And as I did I felt a warmth and strength welling up from inside of me. I adored Rebekah and knew at that moment I had loved her for twenty years. I decided to be honest in a way that would just free her entirely of any sense that she would be alone in her hungers. Any of them.

Dirty isn't dirty, Rebekah, if it from you or from me or from us. Dirty is beautiful unless we want to play at the nasty dirtiness of it and then dirty is dirty, but in the best of ways.

She stared at me mouth open. "Do you remember twenty years ago Rebecca, when I came over and we ate cookies? You asked me if I needed to piss here because my water wasn't turned on yet. Do you know for twenty years I have wondered at the way you said 'piss' "

"Yes, it was daring of me but I wanted something."

"I love the word "piss" Rebekah. I want my piss on you. I want my piss in you. I want you to flood me like a race horse along the whole length of my body, I want to open my mouth to you and gulp all your wetness even when your bladder is outrageously full. When you wake in the middle of the night needing to pee and its cold and you don't want to get up I want to softly suckle the piss from your urethra even if it's a lot and I will keep bed dry. "

"But it's not just piss Rebekah is it? Do you like the word "fart" because sometime I will suck the wet farts out of your rectum?"

"yes, yes, yes."

"Do you like the word "enema"?

Oh my God, yes!

"Piss enema."

"Please, Please...Please!"

"Uterine Ejaculation."

"I'm a messy girl."

"Gag"

"Yes, till a river of spit runs between my breasts."

"What if I fuck your ass, then piss an outrageous amount inside of it making you hold it until later when you expel your shit and my piss on my cock after you have sucked it close to coming."

"After I will suck your shitty cock clean."

"Oh, that is nasty. Deliciously nasty."

"What if I deliberately make a mess?"

"Then we will play in the mess."

"What if I'm bad and make a mess."

"Then I will take you over my knee and spank you till pale becomes pink and pink becomes purple."

"Yes, I think often I'll be bad and make a mess."

Rebekah, three beers. I really have to piss.

Rebekah got up from the couch, slowly touched the side of my face, walked to the pool, knelt down lifting her head upward, stared in my eyes and opened her mouth.

The sun when it rose shone on a whole new world.