A Pee on the Prairie
Introduction:
An oldie from 2011, my first attempt at writing erotica, written in the lounge car on a cross-country train trip, surrounded by cackling, drunken old ladies, and originally published on another story site (now deleted). Parts of this story are true.
Good God! How long had I been daydreaming? Where were we now? And where had all those scary black clouds come from?
Last I was conscious, the sky had been a perfect dome of pure azure. Not a trace of cloud, not even the little white fluffy kind. I’d found it sort of menacing in its own way, in its utter blankness. Nothing between us and the cosmos.
In fact, I was finding this whole landscape a bit disconcerting. As an East Coast kid, I’d spent my entire life near some sort of shade or shelter. But out here, there were no trees, no hills, no buildings. Just waves of rippling green grass, 360?, an endless plain to the curves of the earth. And that big empty sky. There was nowhere to scurry out here, nowhere to hide. If there was a God, and he wanted to smite me, I’d sure make an easy target.
And now those black, black clouds were piling up on the horizon, crackling with electricity. I heard the deep rumble of thunder, like the Earth’s crust splitting under the clouds’ oppressive weight. Another quick patter of raindrops splattered against the windshield, just three or four of them, a tiny taste of the fury we’d soon face.
I gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, and glanced over again at Maggie. She looked so blissful, with her eyes closed, shimmying to the music on her noise-cancelling headphones. Her seat was reclined, all the way back, her bare feet kicked out through the open window. The wind whooshed between her wriggling pink toes. Long strands of blonde hair whipped around her head, like a hydra. She was in her own world.
Even though I’d known Maggie since forever, sometimes (like now) I’d look at her still, and it would still amaze me just how incredibly fucking lovely she actually was. I was proud, but I was also sort of envious. I sometimes felt like, back when we’d been floating together in our amniotic bath, she’d soaked up all the good genes and left me with the crumbs. She was definitely my better half.
She had that aerodynamic nose, those perfect teeth, that adorable faint sprinkle of freckles on her pale cheeks. Briefly, I allowed my eyes to wander down her chest, and I noted the tiny breasts poking up under her t-shirt, little more than a pair of puffy nipples. The bottom of her shirt had scrunched up, exposing her soft white belly and the tight winking slit of her navel. I knew I shouldn’t, but I couldn’t help glancing down a smidge further, where, visible through her clingy cherry-colored shorts was the plump split mound of her vulva.
Kerrrr-accckkkk! went the thunder. A blinding flash of lightning shredded the sky. I nearly jumped from my seat. Then all at once the entire sky came gushing down on us. It was like the bottom had fallen out of some heavenly lake. My sister squealed and pulled her soaked feet into the car. Hastily, we rolled up our windows. I flicked on the wipers, but they were no match for the deluge. All I could do was turn on the blinkers, pull to the side of the road, and hope for the best.
After a minute, my sister asked, “Are we going to just sit here?”
“I can’t see the road.”
White-hot veins of lightning touched the prairie all around us. The rain beat so hard I thought it might take the paint off the Honda. Massive gusts of wind shook us from side to side.
“Don’t they have tornadoes here?” Maggie wondered.
“Yeah, I’m pretty sure they do.”
“What if there is one?”
“I dunno,” I said. “Maybe we’ll end up in Oz.”
“Cool,” said Maggie. “I hope they have a bathroom there. Because I really have to pee.”
Which made me aware, oddly, that I had a rather severe case of cottonmouth. “Can I get some of that Mountain Dew?” I asked my sister. “My mouth feels kind of mummified.”
“I drank it,” she said.
“All of it?”
“Yup.”
“Jesus. That was a Super Duper Mega Gulp. How could you possibly drink it all?”
“Through a straw.”
“Yeah, but it was like 900 ounces. How do you even fit that much Mountain Dew into your miniature body? It should be spilling out your ears.”
“I know. That’s why I have to pee so bad.”
“Well, you could use the empty cup.”
“Yeah, I might have to.” She took the cup from the cup holder, as if to consider the logistics. “Actually, there’s a small amount left,” she said, sloshing some liquid around in the bottom of the cup.
“Cool. May I?”
“Nah, I don’t think you want it. It’s probably all melted ice and drool. I was drooling into the straw earlier.”
“Why were you doing that?”
“I dunno. I like to drool.”
I considered it for a moment.
“If you’re really thirsty, you could stick your head out the window,” suggested Maggie.
“Actually, I think I’d rather have the drool,” I said.
“Really?”
I shrugged. “Your drool’s not that gross to me.”
Maggie giggled as I slurped the remains of her Big Gulp through the chewed-up straw, sloshing it around in my arid mouth.
“Is it delicious?” she asked.
It was frothy and lukewarm and tasted vaguely of Mountain Dew and (to my surprise) vodka. “It’s wet,” I said.
“Now, it’s sort of like we’ve kissed,” said Maggie.
“No, it’s not like that at all,” I said.
“That’s what kissing is. It’s like saying to some other person, ‘Hey, other person, your spit’s not gross to me. Please, may I have some of it in my mouth?'”
“How much vodka have you drunk?”
“Oh, y’know, more than a little, less than a lot.”
By now, the storm had abated somewhat. The sky had lightened to a leaden grey. The wind wasn’t buffeting us quite so hard, and the rain had eased to a heavy, but navigable, downpour. I pulled back onto the highway and forged ahead.
“Thank God,” said Maggie, clutching her swollen bladder.
“How far to the next town?”
“I dunno. Look at the atlas.”
Maggie, tracing her finger along our route, asked, “What was the last town?”
“I can’t remember. I think it began with an H.”
She frowned. “There aren’t any H towns.”
“Then I dunno.”
“Fuck. I think the next town’s really far,” she said. I’m not gonna make it.”
I offered her the cup.
“Yeah, I don’t have a penis,” she said. “I’m not gonna try to piss in a cup unless you want me to piss all over the upholstery.”
“So what do you want me to do?”
“Pull over,” she said. “I’ll pee on the prairie.”
“It’s raining.”
“Better rain-soaked than pee-soaked, eh?”
“There’s lightning. It’s dangerous.”
“God loves me. He wouldn’t strike me down.”
I did as my sister asked. The very instant the car rolled to a stop, Maggie flung the door open, tore down her shorts and panties in a single swift motion, and squatted right there in the open door frame, her exposed girl parts aimed in my direction. I was dumbstruck. I’d seen Maggie naked before, but never like this. Not so graphically. I tried to avert my eyes, but I failed, and instead I gaped.
“Hi,” she said, waggling her fingers at me as I watched the geyser of steamy liquid erupt from her furry crevice. She began to sing a little song. “Dum de dum.” And the piss kept flowing and flowing, a full minute, maybe longer. I’d have never thought it possible such a tiny human could contain so much piss.
Meanwhile, the rain was drenching her, her long hair clinging to her skinny body like seaweed, her once-white t-shirt now transparent, letting her bright pink nipples shine through. She threw back her head, let the rain fill her mouth and spill out over her cheeks. Then she spouted it all into the air, like a dolphin, and howled, “Woooooo!”
The stream began to dwindle. She wriggled her hips, and her last few spurts zigzagged in the air. After the final dribble, she collapsed onto her back. She lay there sprawled in the waterlogged grass, letting the rain beat down on her.
I knew it was bad, but I kept staring. I couldn’t help myself.
Maggie started to laugh, convulsively. She stood, tore off all her clothes, and flung them wildly. They smacked the side of the car with a wet thud.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“C’mon!” she yelled, and she took off running across the prairie, her milk-white buttocks jiggling swiftly into the distance.
I thought she’d gone mad. I had to stop her. So I left the car, and I set off after her across the sodden plain, through the wind and the rain, with the lightning still sparking in the clouds.
In the distance, there was some kind of structure. I could see it when the lightning flared, a lonely haven on the dark prairie. Maggie was headed in that direction, and I followed her there. She ran like a gazelle, and beat me by a couple of minutes.
The place was an abandoned farmhouse, weather-grey, and missing its windows and doors, but otherwise intact. The remaining two blades of a rusty windmill clattered spasmodically in the gusty air.
Gasping, I stepped through the missing front door, and into a big empty room with a creaking wood floor. There was an island of dry in the middle, away from the open windows. Maggie was standing there stark naked in the center of the room, under a cobwebbed chandelier, dribbling a spreading circle of rainwater onto the dusty floorboards.
“Maggie, what the fuck?”
“I dunno. I guess I’ve always wanted to run naked across a stormy prairie. Only I didn’t realize it till I was actually out there. Wasn’t it fun?”
“Fun? More like batshit fucking crazy.”
“Watch this,” she said.
“Watch what?”
Her eyes went down. I followed them. She was inviting me to admire her beautiful body. Her pert little titties, with nipples like molten pink wax, her impossibly slender waist, and the graceful curve of her hips. She directed my gaze to the neat blonde tuft between her legs.
I began to squirm. “Um, Maggie…”
“Watch me. You’ll like this,” she said.
A gentle yellow stream began to spill from her muff. It drummed against the floor and formed a little river that flowed in my direction. A splinter of stray wood floated downstream like a derelict boat, crashing against my shoe as the pee pooled around my feet. I stood there frozen in my sister’s puddle. I didn’t know how to react.
“It’s OK,” said Maggie, when she’d finished. “I like when you watch me pee.”
“Maggie, I think this is a bad idea.”
“I think it’s a good idea,” she said. “Come here.” And I’d never heard her voice like that before, all low and husky and commanding. I couldn’t help but obey.
I stood before her, trembling.
“Touch me,” she said.
I hesitated.
“Touch me,” she repeated.
I touched her arm.
“No,” she said. “Not there.”
I touched her face.
She smiled. “That’s nice, but that’s also not where I meant.”
I let my hand slide down across her cheek, softly, down her neck, graze a nipple, light as a feather, and whisper over her belly. Her skin turned to gooseflesh. The peach fuzz on her belly bristled, glittering gold in the soft light.
Gingerly, I let my fingers venture into her forbidden triangle. Without pressing down, I gently caressed her golden fur, just enough to make it tickle. I watched her squirm. Her cheeks went flush.
“Is that where you meant?”
She bit her lip, giggled. Then I began to feel it, a spreading warmth on my hand. She’d saved me the last few ounces of her nectar.
“Taste it,” she said.
I put my dribbling fingers to my lips and tasted my sister’s salty tang, like a bitter strong tea.
“You’re my property now. You’ve been marked,” she said.
“I’ve been marked for a long time,” I said.
“Open your mouth,” she said.
I did. She spit in it.
“What’s that? Your fucked-up idea of a kiss?”
“I suppose you have a better idea?”
“I do.”
* * * * *
The taste of my sister’s juices seemed to infect me with her madness. I became crazed with animal lust.
However, before I bent to kiss her (like an animal), I did take a moment to unbutton my shirt. It was soaked, from running through the rain, and was clinging to my skin in a way that I did not find pleasurable. So I took it off and wadded it and flung it wildly, the way my sister had done with her clothes. It splatted against the gray and peeling wallpaper, dislodging a dusty portrait of a man and woman in old-fashioned clothes, which had been left hanging in that abandoned farmhouse for God knows how many years. Now it lay on the floor, propped against the wall, the old farm couple staring up at us with stern and judgmental expressions. Maggie and I considered them curiously for a moment. Then we shrugged. We had more urgent concerns.
We turned to face one another. I wrapped my arms around my sister’s naked body, placing my hands lightly upon her waist. Her skin was wet and cool to the touch. I felt some trepidation, but my excitement was greater. We looked each other deeply in the eyes. She gave me a welcoming smile. And then, I bent and kissed her, on her mouth, like an animal.
It felt like something exploded in my brain (or maybe it was the thunder and lightning outside; I couldn’t much tell much difference). All I could think was: Holy shit, this is incest! I was kissing Maggie, my sister, my twin, my equal, my favorite human in the world—and now, my lover. I knew so much about her already, but I’d never known this, the way she tasted, the way her naked skin felt pressed against mine. A whole new universe of Maggie to explore. It was the most amazing thing.
I buried my tongue deep in her face. She let out a little mew, and I felt her muscles go limp—so limp that I was actually supporting most of her weight. I tightened my grip, clutching her smooth wet skin. Slowly, I let my hands slide down over the rounded hillocks of her ass, each cheek a perfect handful for me to squeeze.
Though we were twins, Maggie and I weren’t the same size. I was tall, somewhat heavily muscled. She was small—a feather, a leaf. Tired of stooping to kiss her, I grasped her slender thighs and hefted her up to my level. Squealing with surprise, she wrapped her legs tightly around my waist—so tight I could have let go and she wouldn’t have fallen. But I didn’t let go. I liked where my hands were, cradling her hot little ass, the tips of my middle fingers dipping slightly into her crack, my pinkies brushing up against her moist bush.
I could have held her like that for hours. Maybe I did. Time lost all meaning. All I knew was the swirl of my sister’s tongue, the warmth of her breath on my face, the flash and rumble of the lightning and thunder, and the endless hypnotic thrum of the rain beating down on that lonely old farmhouse.
Maggie’s kisses grew more fervent. She became the aggressor, penetrating me roughly with her tongue, biting my lips. She stopped kissing my mouth for a moment to devour my face, licking and sucking sloppily from my forehead to my chin. My face was soon dripping with her warm saliva.
“You taste salty,” she said.
She slurped into one of my ears, and it gave me such a shivery sensation that my entire body convulsed. I nearly dropped her.
Readjusting my grip on her ass, my fingers slid up deeper into her crack. The slippery warmth excited me, as did the sense of taboo. I was approaching my sister’s anus. A place I was never supposed to be. This was so, so wrong! But I desperately wanted to touch it.
I wasn’t sure how she’d react, though. Kissing was one thing. It was perverted and wrong, but it was still only kissing. It was Level 1 incest. The fact that she was naked probably made it Level 5. But how would she react if I touched the most private part of her body? Surely that would rocket things up to Level 8 or 9—just shy of actually fucking. Would she be shocked and offended? Cautiously, slowly, I nudged my finger that last little bit, trying not to be too obvious about it, until I sensed my fingertip was hovering just above her hole.
Maggie’s breathing grew rough, raspy, in my ear. “Do it,” she hissed.
Gently, I eased my fingertip forward, till it was resting lightly against her tight rubbery hole. My sister gasped. She bit my earlobe. She bit my chin.
“Put it inside me,” she ordered.
I pressed a little harder against her pucker, but not enough to break the seal. I thought it was best to let her do the work, to take me at her own pace. She began to wriggle her hips. Her asshole parted, the taut ring of muscle gripping my fingertip snugly. I was inside my sister now, one knuckle, two knuckles deep, and then my whole finger.
“Oh, God,” she gasped. She was grinding her pelvis against me, her wet bush rasping against my bare belly, her erect nipple poking sharply into my chest. I began to slide my finger in and out. She sucked and slurped on my cheek, sloppy streams of her saliva running down along my chin.
“Why are you still wearing pants?” she demanded, suddenly.
Hastily, I reached for my fly with the hand that wasn’t in my sister’s butt. Arggh! Button fly! It was awkward work with my left hand, but I managed to get enough of those buttons undone that my pants slid to my ankles. Clumsily, I tugged down my boxers, and my rock-hard cock sprung free, bouncing up to thump against Maggie’s furry crotch. Of course I was still wearing my shoes, which was a problem. But I managed to wriggle my feet out of them and step free of pants and shoes and everything, while still holding Maggie tightly and kissing her and finger-fucking her ass. It was quite an athletic maneuver, I thought, proudly.
And so then there we were, Maggie and I, gloriously naked together for the first time since we were little, when Mom would made us take baths together and scrub each other’s backs. Just then, I remembered how Maggie had always thought it was hilarious to pee in the tub.
As if reading my thoughts, Maggie announced, “I have to pee some more.”
I didn’t say anything. Instead, I kissed her on the mouth and continued to hold her tight against me. I felt the trickling warmth at the base of my cock. The trickle turned to a geyser. A hissing hot jet of my sister’s piss massaged my cock, splattering against my belly, streaming down my balls, down my legs, and pooled warmly around my feet.
“Wait! Wait! Save some,” I urged her. “I want to taste you.”
I plucked my finger from Maggie’s ass, lowered her to her feet, and knelt in the pool of piss before her heavenly body. I placed my face to her dark muff, opened my mouth, and let her fill me with her salty hot girl-juice. I swallowed a little, but mostly let it fill my mouth and spill out over my lips. It was the most delicious nectar in the world.
After the last spurt, she said, “Lick me clean.”
“Yes, my goddess.” I buried my face in her sopping crotch, reaching behind her to grasp her divine ass and clutch her to me fiercely. She ground herself against me, rubbing her hairy wet cunt all over my face. I found her slippery slit with my tongue and licked it up and down. Parting her soft plump lips, I probed deep inside her, tasting her holiest of holies. She bucked her hips and moaned, frantically grasping at my hair. She began to grind her clit against my tongue. I held it there for her, gently rippling it up and down, and doing a soft vibrato hum with my vocal chords. I reached a finger up into her, found the rough spot that marked her g-spot, and began to massage it.
I could feel the muscles in her thighs and buttocks tremble. I saw her pink toes curl and clutch at the floor. With my free hand, I rediscovered her anus, and slipped another finger into her, now penetrating both her holes. That was the trigger. Almost instantaneously, her body convulsed, and she made a high-pitched sound like, “Yeeeeeeeeeeee!” A jet of hot liquid blasted me in the face. Only, this time, it wasn’t pee. It was thicker and sweeter.
Maggie collapsed to the floor beside me and we sat there holding and nuzzling each other.
“I love you,” I said.
After she’d regained her breath, she said, “We’re sitting in pee.”
Just then, following a stream of pee that was trickling across the floor, our eyes simultaneously drifted over to the portrait of the old farm couple, about to get soaked. From this angle, they seemed to be glaring at us damningly.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said. I collected my clothes, took my sister by the hand and led her out of the old farmhouse and back onto the open prairie.
The rain was still pouring down heavily, but the wind had stopped howling, and the thunder and lightning had moved off to the distance.
“I’ve always wanted to fuck in the rain,” said Maggie.
As the warm summer rain showered our naked bodies, I laid my sister down in the sodden grass, under that big western sky, and spilled my cum into her.
THE END
