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My girlfriend Annie and I meet every Sunday for coffee. We call it confession since we like to reveal our most embarrassing Sorority moments. Though sadly we didn’t attend the same University, we were both the bad girls on campus, so there is plenty to reminisce.
Heavy drinking and endless fucking is something we had in common, and we are both damn lucky we came away from it childless and unscathed.
This Sunday it was Annie’s turn to tell all.
She took a moment to settle on a story. A mischievous smile told me she was ready.
“By far my most embarrassing,” she blushed. “I’m thankful all this came to pass before cell phones had cameras,” she added. “Could you imagine?”
She leaned in close, stirred her latte with her finger, and offered it to me. A quick glance around to make sure nobody was looking, and I sucked it off with a wink. This is a little ritual we like to do to get in the mood for wetting our pussies in public. For sure these stories could open up a girl’s happy gates, so I always took care to bring along a few extra panty liners.
“I’ll call this one the pissing contest,” she smiled.
We always give our stories a title. Last week I told Annie ‘Bottoms up’, which was about my weekend with a few guys from my cooking class, and their boyish fascination with spanking me. They kept me naked and ass-up on a coffee table, and took turns swatting and groping my butt. Alcohol and unbridled hormones. What else can I say?
“Well,” Annie started …
I leaned in close. My heart was already palpitating, and my clit was already popping out from its nest. I love that sensation.
Annie went on to tell me about a night her and two girlfriends met up with some cute guys from campus, and headed out to nearby cemetery to do some drinking and fucking. They had to hop the fence, then scurry into some bushes to wait for a security guy to finish his rounds. He wouldn’t be back around for a few hours, so they had plenty of time to misbehave.
They found a nice grassy area and jumped right into the drinking. Bottles were passed and booze was guzzled. She said it wasn’t long before the girls were pouncing on the guys, and clothes were coming off.
Everything up to that point was your average college student romp. But Annie’s stories never stayed average for long.
“So after our first round, we were ready to switch partners,” she smiled, sucking the foam off her latte.
“But first …”
Annie told me how first one, the other two guys had to pee. They faced the bushes and immediately got into a pissing contest. The girls crawled around to watch and cheer. Annie said the girls were laughing, saying how disappointed they were in the show, and how they thought the plumbing would give guys a clear advantage.
“My mother can pee farther than that,” Annie remembered saying.
The challenge was on.
Annie told me the girls all got on their backs, pulled their knees up to their shoulders, and let loose.
“We beat them hands down,” she giggled. “What we didn’t account for was how turned on they would get,” she admitted. “Kids in a candy store.”
She told me the guys egged them on to do it again, but of course they were all peed out, so it was back to the booze and another round of sex before they were ready again. Annie and her girlfriends stood the second time, lined up shoulder to shoulder, and pulled their pee holes forward. The guys sat a safe distance and waited for the waterworks.
Annie said the girls were all giggling so hard it took a while to get synchronized. Once they did, however, the show was impressive. The guys were simply no match.
Once the show was over, the girls gave each other a congratulatory embrace. One of the guys wasn’t going down without a fight. He grabbed a shirt and hung it from his stiff cock. He seemed very proud of the usefulness of a dick, and challenged the girls to match it.
“Pissing is a useless talent,” Annie remembered him saying. “Can you beat this?”
“We huddled together and planned,” she told me.
After that, the girls each grabbed one of the guy’s shirts and stuffed the collars into their pussies. They then turned and stood with their legs slightly apart, and the shirts hanging from their sex. The guys were beaten again.
“It gets better,” she smiled, squirming in her chair.
I was squirming too, and trying to imagine the looks on the guy’s faces.
Annie next told me how one of the girls first pulled the shirt out of her own pussy, then knelt in front of her and the other girl and pulled the shirts out. She gave each pussy a kiss, then gathered up the panties. She sorted out whose were whose, then proceeded to stuff them up their owner’s sex until they were out of site. She then stuffed her own into her pussy, then challenged to guy to a little hide and seek.
“One rule,” Annie explained. “No hands.”
The guys each picked a girl and knelt in front of her, then did their best to fish the panties out using just their teeth and tongues. It took some doing, but in the meantime the girls were getting a delicious licking.
“Those panties were like sponges by the time the guys managed to get them out,” she fondly remembered. “We called it bobbing for panties after that,” she added, laughing. She also told me it became a weekend game for one whole summer.
Any lingering inhibitions broke down after that moment. The guys insisted on seeing all the tricks a pussy could do - and there are many - so the girls put on a show fisting each other, pulling and tying their labia, sitting on beer bottles, and drinking gin from each other’s pussies. They finished with a grand finale pissing contest, this time with the girls on their hands and knees.
“Can you believe that?” she asked, hardly believing it herself.
We finished our coffees and headed out. My mind was already racing for a story that could match Annie’s. Course the drinking made many of the memories hard to find, but they do come back, eventually. But for now, Annie and I were headed to her place for a little post-storytelling intimacy, our other Sunday ritual.
But that’s another story!
*****
A.W.
*****
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