[Part 1](https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i19kdz/1_ignorance_brings_chaos_not_knowledge_or_the/)
[Part 2](https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i1qyla/2_how_i_learned_to_stop_worrying_and_love_getting/)
[Part 3](https://old.reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i2b6bb/3_learning_is_always_a_painful_process_ff/)
Whatever I had with Lucy, brief as it was, came to a swift and sudden end. Variously wounded, jealous, angry and racked with guilt, we retreated into our own social circles, consciously avoided each other wherever we went, and we didn’t talk for over a year. Lucy’s hard exterior was reset; she swanned around campus looking ready to bite the head off anyone who got in her way, and when I saw her from a distance it was with a pang of regret that I would no longer see her naked, touch her body or sleep in her bed.
A long time later, by chance, we met in a pub for the birthday of a mutual friend whom we hadn’t realised was a mutual friend. We had a long, air-clearing conversation. Typically, stubbornly, Lucy insisted that I hadn’t done anything wrong, mainly in order that she wouldn’t have to accept my apology. I tried anyway. She told me she had, once, really liked me. It might sound like she was saying this just to be cruel—to emphasise the fact that, now, she didn’t like me at all—but I knew she didn’t mean it that way. We realised, quickly enough, that all the hard feelings between us had gone, but a lot of the tender feelings had gone with them, and we both knew that there was no going back to what we had.
I thought that night, as I walked home alone, Lucy and I having taken immediately branching routes from the pub, and said goodnight without any unkindness, about all the things I had shared with Lucy. I had the painful realisation that many of them I didn’t want to do with anybody else, and in some cases it would take years for this aversion to lift.
The idea of watching someone else masturbate, let alone someone who had told me sternly to watch, did nothing for me at all. I thought of a couple of guys I had slept with over the preceding year, both of them sturdy and thick-wristed engineers, both of whom had a certain swagger which would fall away, dramatically, when they descended into pathetic and petulant whining that they be allowed to fuck me in the arse, and the thought vaguely revolted me. And I thought of how extremely inappropriate it would be—and yet so tempting—to send Lucy an immediate text detailing how badly I wished she would let me swallow her piss again.
I don’t really remember how far into our relationship it was; sometimes I get a little hazy about the details and the order in which things happened. But I remember, I think, that I had been in a bad mood that day. It might have been family troubles or money worries or study woes. But at any rate, even though I was usually the calm counterpart to Lucy’s unpredictably nasty streaks, I had snapped at her or something, and the situation had been mildly reversed.
To her credit, Lucy didn’t respond in kind. I had somehow brought out her gentle side; she asked me, I remember, as I lay back on her bed and seethed or cried or whatever it was, whether I wanted to have sex. I said yes, and I meant it, but I’m sure I said it in some surly and pouting way, wanting, for no reason at all, to let Lucy know how it usually felt to be me, met constantly with her sulky mannerisms.
She touched me, slowly, through the fabric of my clothes. She kissed my breasts, thumbed my nipples where they hardened through my shirt. She nuzzled and kissed my stomach, peeling my shirt up just a little bit to place a line of kisses along my waist. She stroked and squeezed my thighs, and ran the tips of her fingers along their insides so it tickled ever so slightly, and only then began slowly undressing me. She kissed my calves and shins and knees and thighs, and breathed in the warm scent of my cunt through my underwear, dragging her lips gently over the wet fabric to kiss the peak of my pubic bone.
She continued until I was naked and she, looking down at my vulnerable self, was fully clothed. I had learned not to cringe as she looked at me, not to yield to my basest urges and curl up and cover myself, even though there was still something so fierce in the way she stared, possessive, perhaps, or just intensely desiring. I realised that, if I forced myself to look back, or if I closed my eyes and let hers play over the surfaces of my body, the sensation of being taken in was almost as intense as that of being touched.
And touch me, sooner or later, she did, slower and more carefully than I had become accustomed to. She repeated the movements and the gestures she had made twice already, first through all the layers of my clothes, then through just the skinny fabric of my underwear, and now finally on my bare skin. Without a hint of her teeth she swirled her tongue around each of my nipples, took them into her mouth and sucked slowly, tugging them just a little between her lips, widening her mouth to fill it with the milky skin and the firm flesh of each of my breasts in turn. She let me stroke her hair as she did so, and again as she settled herself between my legs, repeating the wet and warm motions of her mouth. She sucked at the skin on my inner thighs, as pale and as soft as that of my breasts, my lower stomach, my inner arms. I bound my fingers into her soft, delicately straightish blonde hair, and she settled her mouth over my cunt, sucking and licking again as though she wanted to fill her mouth with the taste and the smell and the feel of me.
With no apparent expectation that I reciprocate, Lucy let me come twice in a row, first with just her mouth, then with her fingers as well. She took up that position she liked, sitting slant-legged between my thighs, and stroked my legs and my hips, and then asked with glistening lips if I felt like taking a shower. I said I did, and we went into her bathroom.
‘Do you want me to piss on you?’ she said. I remember vividly that she said it exactly this way, because it struck me as a little strange. The thought had never once occurred to me, but Lucy said it as though she would be doing me a favour; as though this was some special treat that I had earned, that would raise my spirits despite my bad day, and her saying it in this way was more than enough to convince me that it was the case. Not in a million years would I have said no.
‘Get on your knees,’ she said.
I knelt in Lucy’s shower (Lucy had her own bathroom and I didn’t, which was part of the reason why we were more often at her place than mine), and sat back on my heels, and watched Lucy take off her clothes. I enjoyed the vulnerability of being naked when she wasn’t, but I also loved to watch her undress. She artfully stepped out of her shorts; she somehow made elegant the act of taking off a pair of tights. She unclasped her bra and shrugged it forward, down along her forearms until it felt silently to the floor. She stood naked, her feet delicate on the cold tiles of the floor, then she turned and kicked the pile of her clothes out of the door and back into her room, and I watched the muscles tense in one side of her ass as she did.
It was a little bit awkward trying to find a position that worked: the shower was predictably small, and though between us we didn’t take up all that much space, Lucy had a hard time arranging her limbs around me, and I giggled nervously. There was a small, shelflike protrusion in one corner of the plasticky moulded shower cubicle, and she was able to place her toes on it, raising her heel artfully like a ballerina, her calf tensing, her leg mostly over my shoulder, the tendons of her hip standing out in her leg, her pussy just a few centimetres from me, close enough that I’m sure she could feel my breath, and close enough that I breathe in the bewitching smell of her as I inhaled.
I waited. And I waited a little more. Lucy had begun by looking down at me, but she closed her eyes now, tipped her head back, took long, careful breaths. Her leg shook a little bit—possibly it was just from the effort of holding it at an angle, but all the same, it seemed as though Lucy was a little nervous.
I stroked her tummy with my fingertips, ran them around her hip, down over the skin of her bum, squeezing the sharp curve where it met her thigh. I ran my fingertips gently up and down the back of her thigh, and she tensed up a little.
‘Tickles,’ she said, and I held my fingers still, settling my index and middle fingers into the undercurve of her ass, where its soft flesh met the firmness of her thigh.
I waited another moment or two. Still averting her eyes, Lucy suddenly let out a a sharp, rattling exhale, and a gush of pee hit my chest, ran down to my stomach, and stopped abruptly. I looked up at Lucy and she screwed her face up in frustration, and then allowed herself the tiniest laugh at her own expense. A little of it ran down her thigh, and dripped from the lips of her cunt.
I angled my face into the meeting of her thighs. I licked the inner thigh of her standing leg thoroughly where it glistened, drawing every drop of it into my mouth, then moved to her pussy and did the same. Her pee didn’t taste like all that much; it was kind of salty, mostly warm and watery, certainly not bad. Mostly I loved that it was something that had come from somewhere deep inside her. I guess if you had asked me before, I might have said that this sounded gross and wrong, but in the moment it didn’t feel that way at all.
I spread Lucy’s big, soft, pink lips with my fingers, and thoroughly buried my tongue between them. She was very wet, and she tasted of mixed and oily rivulets of pussy and pee.
‘Can I?’ she said, my tongue still buried in her pussy.
‘Mmmhmm,’ I moaned into her, vaguely amused that Lucy would turn out to be the kind of person who had scruples about peeing in my mouth.
Lucy gasped, and this time an even flow ran over my tongue, down my chin, splashing my boobs and running in trails further down, over my thighs and hips, into the valley of my pussy. Her piss was clearish and shockingly hot, and she moaned softly, sounding almost like she was coming as she let loose every drop over me. I swallowed a little, then tipped back my head and allowed her to soak the front of my body; she spread and pulled up on her lips with her fingers, but still a little of it ran down the inside of her thigh until it died away, and she closed her eyes and took a few deep breaths.
‘Want to lick me clean?’ she said, and I did. She went on spreading her lips for me and I carefully drew my tongue over every smooth surface and crevice of her cunt. I licked her outer lips, the inner creases of her thighs, the wet inner skin of her standing leg. I craned my neck, shifted awkwardly underneath her and just managed to graze her asshole with my tongue, and she shuddered and tensed her legs. I grabbed her ass with one hand and moved back to her clit, wanting to make her come, but she took my hair in her hand and made me stop.
‘Can’t,’ she said, ‘my legs.’
She lowered her raised leg, and stood back from me—as much as she could, in the tiny shower—and gasped and gingerly shifted her weight back onto both legs.
‘Come here,’ she said, beckoning me upward.
She kissed me as deeply as she ever did, and put her hand on the small of my back and pulled me against her. She didn’t seem to mind at all that my lips and tongue tasted of her pee, which also formed a rapidly-cooling layer between the fronts of our bodies.
She reached for the shower dial to our side, then paused and pulled me tighter against the wall, away from the first cold blast of water. She turned it on—a little cold spray still hit my back and my bum, and yelped and cowered against her, but in ten seconds it was warm, and she guided me backward under the flow of the shower. As she started to rub a fruity lather into the skin of my back, I let my head fall forward onto her shoulder, and I sighed.
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/i2yil0/4_im_out_of_smart_titles_lucy_peed_on_me_once_ff