The Pee Therapy Nurse - Sex Stories

The Pee Therapy Nurse

... they?’ Myna nodded and then a thought seemed to strike her. For a moment, she stared off into the distance with a slight frown and then, she put down the crab leg she was holding and gave me a look. She had a gleam in here eye, that special gleam of pure (delicious) wickedness I have come to know and love. ‘I think we can maybe do something to change that,’ she said. * * * It was four months before we met again. We kept in touch by e-mail, of course, (we’ve always exchanged deliciously hot correspondence) but though I occasionally tied to pry some details from her as to the intriguing hint she had dropped at our last meeting, she remained steadfastly silent. Normally, in accordance with the pattern we had developed over the years, it would have been my turn to set the scene for our upcoming encounter but, since she obviously had something very special in mind (and she has such a wonderfully inventive approach to perversions of all sorts), I was more than happy to let her take the lead. When the time was upon us, we booked ourselves into a rather grand, and decidedly expensive, hotel. As always, we arranged separate rooms. Most of our encounters coincide with business trips for one of us, and we tend to keep a low profile in public. I took a fairly standard room, but as this was Myna’s ‘show’ and the activities would take place in her ‘place’, she booked a large two bedroom suite. Myna arrived the day before I did and, after checking in the following morning, I met her at ...

... the room just before the noon-hour and she greeted me warmly. She looked fantastic, as always, and was very prettily dressed in a light summer frock that showed off her legs at their best. I kissed her and asked if she was ready to eat. ‘Just a moment,’ she said. She was smiling, well… grinning actually, like a child bursting to tell a secret. “I want to show you something before we go,’ she announced. ‘Just a little preview of what’s to come…’ She crossed to the little refrigerator in her well-equipped kitchenette and opened the door. I watched as she withdrew two of those clear one-liter bottles commonly used for mineral water and put them on the counter. One was filled with a pale, straw colored liquid, and the other, very nearly full, had contents that were just a shade darker. I knew instantly what was inside them, of course, but when I opened my mouth to ask the obvious question, she simply announced that she had been saving her ‘collection’ since the previous day and refused to say more. She put them back in the fridge and closed the door. ‘Now then… let’s find somewhere nice where I can get a couple of frosty mugs of beer,’ she said. ‘I’m going to need them, I think’ she added, giving me a meaningful look. We ended up having a pleasant lunch at a sidewalk table outside a little place about a block from the hotel and she ended up drinking not two, but three beers. It had been sunny when my flight arrived earlier but now the sky was darkening with the threat of heavy ...