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Page 24.
 She pushed me onto the bed, where I sat up leaning on my elbows while she showed me her toys. Aside from the usual sorts of penetration tools in various sizes, shapes, and colors, she had an interesting set of objects in a black case lined with green velvet. "These are from Holland. Aren't they great?" As I watched, she took off her bikini top and bottom. I saw those significant labia again. "I want to suck on those," I said. She smiled. "Oh, you will, but first I want to show you this." She took two hooks from the case and pushed them through her labia. "I had them pierced," she said. On these hooks, she hung two smallish stainless steel chains, on the ends of which were two small stainless steel balls. "Now you can lick me," she said while standing before me with her legs apart and her arms akimbo. It was a domination pose, with her small conical breasts sticking out and the long brown nipples on them pointing over my head as I sank to my knees to inspect her more closely. There were more weights in the case, but I wasn't too into this and hoped she wouldn't stretch herself to the floor. She rocked lightly from side to side and the balls swung back and forth. "I'm stretching them. Every day I do this."
"What else do you do?"
"This." She rubbed herself, slowly at first, as if spreading juice around, then faster until her fingers were blurry. "Like to see me play?"
"Oh yes."
"Play with me. Make me horny. Make me come." Her voice was urgent, pleading.
I sat down under her. I turned her slightly so I could work my way under her, and I lay down on the rug. I nudged her until her oyster was directly over my face. She asked: "You want a golden shower?"
I had no idea what she meant. I was about to lick her. I was staring directly into her hole, enjoying the pink frilliness inside, and the view of her little knob hardening pinkly under its hood, when hot pee squirted from the tiny opening above her oyster hole. Startled, I tasted her salty fluid on my tongue. Sputtering, I rolled over and wiped it out of my eyes. "Did I hurt you?" she asked. I shook my head.
She removed the hooks and balls. She pulled on my ear. "Come here, I want to show you something." Taking me by the hand, she led me to the bathroom. "Look, I'll bet you didn't know women can do this. Most women don't know they can do this." Standing with her legs slightly apart, so that her buttocks looked part and grabable as apples, she spread her oyster open and held her fingertips near her piss hole. "Watch, Peter." Out came a nice thick twirling rope of golden pee, just like from the tip of my dick. I couldn’t believe my eyes. "Then why don't women use urinals?"
"Because we like to remain mysterious to men. Maybe to ourselves." I watched as the heavy stream rushed into the toilet water just as if a dockworker were hanging his hose out over the harbor water. "Wasn't that fun?" She flushed, and we went back into the bedroom.
"One surprise after another," I said. She wiped my face with a clean, damp towel. "You weren't expecting that, were you?" I shook my head. "Did you like it?"
I replied: "Surprisingly, it wasn't terrible or anything. I like watching you pee. I'm just not sure I want you peeing on my face. I was just looking at that little hole when the pee came out all over my face."
"It's sterile," she said. "In India, people walk up to cows on the street and let them pee in their hands. Then they drink the pee, they wash their hair with it, they wash their faces, even brush their teeth with cow pee. It's sacred. And guess what, pee from a healthy person or cow is sterile."
"All the more reason for us to pee on each other," I said.
She dabbed at my eyes. "I'm sorry I startled you. Maybe later you'll want to try it again. Some people get hooked on it and can't get enough." I was sitting on the edge of the bed, and she stood before me. She wrapped her arms around my head and pulled me to her so that I could kiss the space between her breasts. "Now you can lick me. I promise not to pee on you again."
I lay back on the bed and had her crawl over me. She lowered her oyster over my face so that her wide flaps dangled over my mouth. I blew on them. They wiggled in the air stream. J squealed with sensory delight. "Yeah!"
It may seem strange after so many adventures, but I was just at that moment becoming conscious of the exact physiognomy of a woman's complicated apparatus down there. Maybe a lot of women are afraid to touch themselves and know less about their genitals than they should. I have made love to women who feel they should lie passively—what someone I know referred to as the Starfish Syndrome.
So here I was, with a woman who was not afraid to explore and pleasure herself, and feel no guilt about it—and for the first time really staring her sex organs in the face, so to speak. Our instinct to reproduce is hardwired into us. It is the strongest instinct we have—on a par with survival.
That's why, when I could have been home reading a good book or watching a movie, I was staring at this vivacious little redhead's piss hole and turned on as a three year old by a pile of wooden blocks. The best part was, her instincts made her turned on that I was turned on. She writhed low, rubbing her labia back and forth over my lips. "Lick them. Suck them. I love them. I like to play with them when I'm alone."
"Oh..." I groaned, "I love them too." I sucked on them, nibbled them, gently bit them, licked them from bottom to top. I paused only to lick her pee hole, which made her shriek with pleasure. I could feel the orgasm vibrations rippling through her body again. I put my fingers in her oyster and pulled out all the juice there, and started masturbating myself. I kept getting more of her mucusy juice that made my fingers slippery as I tightened my grip on my head and pumped up and down until it began to spurt. She came about the same time—wracked with shuddering contractions that almost made her fall over backwards—and in the last moment, as she yelled out in pleasure, she couldn't help it. She squirted. I closed my eyes and went along for the ride, snorting and spouting as if someone had poured beer over me at a kegger. I felt the shower of warm pee in my hair and trickling down my face, and thought of the cows in India. Maybe they knew something we didn't. J and I cried out loud in unison as we came together.
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