and the front of his thighs, and then his penis.
“I’ve never seen you pee,” she said.
“Step aside.”
Mickey stood at the toilet and she reached around to hold his cock. It was more difficult than he thought it would be. Strange hands seemed to give him pause for such a common function. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and managed at last.
“Ooh, I wish I could do that,” Sandy said, directing the stream into the water, and moving it around experimentally.
“I’m glad you’re doing this ,” he said.
She shifted around beside him and put her hand in the stream. “Hey!” Mickey said, startled, and cut off the flow,
“Warm,” she said in a silky voice. “It feels good.”
“Um...”
She tugged at his cock. “Do it on me,” she said.
“Really?”
“Can you?”
“Well, sure, but...”
“Don’t worry about the floor. I’ll clean up.”
“With your tongue?”
Sandy made a face.
“Here, sit on the john.”
She put one foot over and slid in front of him, still holding his penis. He bent to kiss her, and said, “Let me hold it, cunt. You’ll get me hard, and I can’t pee when I’m hard.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Nobody can, as far as I know.”
Sandy sat back a little and put her hands on his hips. Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off her then, his bladder let go on command and he directed the stream onto her breasts. She jumped and gasped at the sudden wetness and the heat, and her mouth was open, watching him excitedly.
“You’re full of surprises,” he said, finishing.
She grinned at him. “I thought you’d give me a little taste.”
“Next time,” he said.
“Promise?”
“Every morning for the rest of your life. How’s that for an idea?”
“All right,” she said. “Now get out of here. I have to shower again.”
“Not yet,” he said. “Go do the treadmill.”
“But, you peed on me.”
“Doesn’t change a thing.”
“Shit,” she said disgustedly.
“That’s more advanced,” he said blandly. “I’ll work you up to it.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And who was it asking to be pissed on?”
Sandy gave him the finger on the way out and he backhanded her a good one on the ass. She hopped, rubbing the spot, and went out to the garage without looking back, dripping urine with every step.
“Damn,” Mickey said, and went to find the mop.
Chapter Fourteen
“It’s going to take forever,” Sandy said at lunch time.
She was sitting at Linus Davidson’s cluttered desk in the converted sales office. His Caddy was still outside, with her Volkswagen parked in exactly the same spot it had been exactly a week before. This time, Mickey’s truck was parked there, too. And no baseball bats were in evidence.
Mickey was sitting on the brown leather couch, thinking that Sandy was a very cool customer to do what she was doing while he did so. She had on another one of her white nylon uniforms, and had just run down from work to meet Mickey and go through whatever they could find at Linus’s.
“What’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his legs.
“I’ll have to call every one of these offices,” she said. “There are thirty of them on this page alone, honey. And more on the receipt list.”
“What’s active? I mean, how many things is he working on? Or was he working on before he got...um...disabled?”
“Sixteen or twenty,” she said, fretting. “And orders for maybe a hundred active over the next month.” She flipped pages. “He’s making runs all the way to Dania and Ft. Lauderdale. How do you make any money that way?”
“Who knows?” He patted the cushion beside him. “Come on over and sit down. Bring the accounts with you so we can see if...”
“You come over here,” she said, looking at the couch.
“Aw, baby...”
“We don’t have time, Mickey.”
“Don’t have time for a quickie on the couch? Who are you kidding?”
There was, he had to admit, a perverse pleasure in teasing her about the couch.
“I’ve never seen you pee,” she said.
“Step aside.”
Mickey stood at the toilet and she reached around to hold his cock. It was more difficult than he thought it would be. Strange hands seemed to give him pause for such a common function. He closed his eyes and concentrated, and managed at last.
“Ooh, I wish I could do that,” Sandy said, directing the stream into the water, and moving it around experimentally.
“I’m glad you’re doing this ,” he said.
She shifted around beside him and put her hand in the stream. “Hey!” Mickey said, startled, and cut off the flow,
“Warm,” she said in a silky voice. “It feels good.”
“Um...”
She tugged at his cock. “Do it on me,” she said.
“Really?”
“Can you?”
“Well, sure, but...”
“Don’t worry about the floor. I’ll clean up.”
“With your tongue?”
Sandy made a face.
“Here, sit on the john.”
She put one foot over and slid in front of him, still holding his penis. He bent to kiss her, and said, “Let me hold it, cunt. You’ll get me hard, and I can’t pee when I’m hard.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“Nobody can, as far as I know.”
Sandy sat back a little and put her hands on his hips. Mickey couldn’t take his eyes off her then, his bladder let go on command and he directed the stream onto her breasts. She jumped and gasped at the sudden wetness and the heat, and her mouth was open, watching him excitedly.
“You’re full of surprises,” he said, finishing.
She grinned at him. “I thought you’d give me a little taste.”
“Next time,” he said.
“Promise?”
“Every morning for the rest of your life. How’s that for an idea?”
“All right,” she said. “Now get out of here. I have to shower again.”
“Not yet,” he said. “Go do the treadmill.”
“But, you peed on me.”
“Doesn’t change a thing.”
“Shit,” she said disgustedly.
“That’s more advanced,” he said blandly. “I’ll work you up to it.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“And who was it asking to be pissed on?”
Sandy gave him the finger on the way out and he backhanded her a good one on the ass. She hopped, rubbing the spot, and went out to the garage without looking back, dripping urine with every step.
“Damn,” Mickey said, and went to find the mop.
Chapter Fourteen
“It’s going to take forever,” Sandy said at lunch time.
She was sitting at Linus Davidson’s cluttered desk in the converted sales office. His Caddy was still outside, with her Volkswagen parked in exactly the same spot it had been exactly a week before. This time, Mickey’s truck was parked there, too. And no baseball bats were in evidence.
Mickey was sitting on the brown leather couch, thinking that Sandy was a very cool customer to do what she was doing while he did so. She had on another one of her white nylon uniforms, and had just run down from work to meet Mickey and go through whatever they could find at Linus’s.
“What’s the problem?” he asked, crossing his legs.
“I’ll have to call every one of these offices,” she said. “There are thirty of them on this page alone, honey. And more on the receipt list.”
“What’s active? I mean, how many things is he working on? Or was he working on before he got...um...disabled?”
“Sixteen or twenty,” she said, fretting. “And orders for maybe a hundred active over the next month.” She flipped pages. “He’s making runs all the way to Dania and Ft. Lauderdale. How do you make any money that way?”
“Who knows?” He patted the cushion beside him. “Come on over and sit down. Bring the accounts with you so we can see if...”
“You come over here,” she said, looking at the couch.
“Aw, baby...”
“We don’t have time, Mickey.”
“Don’t have time for a quickie on the couch? Who are you kidding?”
There was, he had to admit, a perverse pleasure in teasing her about the couch.
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