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As it was, the place was reasonably clean, for a change – I mean, it was dusty, a few dishes waiting in the sink, discarded copies of the Guardian all over the place. But it wasn't the pigsty I normally lived in ... probably because I'd imagined scenarios when I'd have come back here with ... well, with Debbie.However, here I now was, with May, and frankly she was now, I felt, a bit redundant: The stairs would have been a definite problem on my own but now that I was at the top of them – home, in fact – I didn't really need her anymore. What I most wanted to do was lie down on the bed and relax for a while, then get back on top of things by replying to a few messages, making a few calls, confident that I had enough food around the place not to be in danger of starving, that I was mobile enough to keep things together biological function wise. But rather than that, I found myself acting as host, doing the polite stuff that comes with the role as well as I could while lying prone across. She really had needed to go, and as soon we were steady, I heard a sound like the garden hose, going full blast. Whether I had intended to hold her gaze, I don't know, but the extraordinary sound made me glance down. And once I glanced, I couldn't break away. This was my first pussy, and I remember it like a photo. Her ankles were tied together by the bunched up trousers, but to give her pussy space to pee, she had her knees as wide appart as she could get them. She had a triangle of dark brown curly hair, quite thick, but not completely hiding the skin beneath. Below that, hanging down by about 1/4 of an inch, were the wonderful pink flaps I didn't know anything about before that day. And from them, almost straight down, came a fierce stream of almost clear pee. I was mesmerised, and beyond excited. Finally, the stream ebbed, and then trickled to a halt. Andi's pussy twitched a couple of times, and finally I came to my senses, and quickly looked back up at Andi's face.I.
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