Page 28 of H Is for Hardcore

“You want to watch me pee?”

“Yes,” I said.

“I need a commitment before I go that far,” she said.

“We hardly know each other.”

“Exactly,” she said, and went to the bathroom.

I sat there.

I got up and followed. The door was unlocked and I went in. Hannah was sitting on the toilet; she glanced up at me. She smiled and said, “You.” I could hear the stream of her urine. I sat on the floor, cross-legged.

“You’re bold,” she said.

“The door was unlocked.”

“There is no lock.”

“I couldn’t resist.”

She stood up. “Okay, Mr. Bold. Clean me.”

“With my mouth?”

“Absolutely not.”

I would’ve done it with my mouth, if she’d asked. I took a wad of toilet paper and wiped her cunt. She pulled her panties up.

“I have to go, too,” I said.

“Then I get to watch,” she said. “Quid pro quo.”

She took my place on the floor; I stood in front of the toilet, took my cock out.

Hannah made a weird sound. She moved, snagged my cock, and put her mouth before it, drinking my urine; what she didn’t get flowed out, down her chin, and into the bowl. I liked the sound this made. I breathed hard; it was an experience in itself watching her drink from me.

She pressed her face to my leg. “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help myself,” she said, softly. “Now you know my fetish. Okay, I’m weird. You’ll never love me.”

“I could love you,” I said.

“Do you mean that?”

“Yes.”

“Will you kiss me to prove it?” she asked.

“Yes,” I said.

She stood, and we kissed, and I tasted her—and me.

“I want to make love to you,” I said.

“No, I can’t,” she said.

Hannah left the bathroom and sat on the edge of her bed. I sat next to her; we both fell back. It was a nice, big, comfortable bed, the kind of bed I liked, the kind of bed I didn’t have.

“It’s late,” she said, moving away from me. “I’m a little drunk.”

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