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dir/new_school/fiction: Golden Release |
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I like to pee alone without the distractions
of other people. I hate it when I go into a public restroom, and there is
another lone pisser waiting for me to urinate first. I’m sitting on the pot
this very minute, thinking about this, while I wait for the woman in the stall
next to mine, spring a leak and leave.
Nothing. We wait in silence for the other to
release her natural bodily fluids. I have to piss so bad, but I can’t, because
like I stated before, I like to pee in privacy.
Maybe a little tinkle… I try to push and
squeeze out a shy squirt, but to no avail. Nope, it’s just not going to
happen. I wish that damn bitch would leave! I shift on my toilet seat, the thin
paper separating me from the rest of the world crinkles underneath my bottom. I
stare at a crude drawing of a blue penis etched on the door with an inscription
beneath it. For a good time call- Peter Pipers Pickled Pecker. 1-800-PRICK. It
made me think of the good old days when I used to get stoned. In the past, I
would have thought that that was so funny; I probably would have pissed my pants
before I ever made it to the toilet. Back in the beer soaked party days of my
youth, peeing was never an issue for me. I used to go wherever and whenever I
pleased. No bathroom, no problem! Just squat, and piss. I used to piss on
peoples lawns, in front of ex boyfriends doorsteps; I even pissed on someone’s
shoes once. I didn’t care; I was young, drunk, foot-loose and panty-free! Of
course there comes a time in every young woman’s life, when she realizes she
needs to grow up and is expected to reform to societies rules and use a toilet
like the rest of the normal, adult women. Although it was hard, I knew I had to
change in order to become a productive member of lavatory society. And at
eighteen I quit drinking and pissing on other peoples belongings.
I hear the woman pull out a newspaper, she
fiddles with the toilet paper dispenser, she even flushes the latrine, no doubt
in an attempt to try to distract herself, in hopes of relieving herself. She
desperately sighs, and feeling her physical and mental aguish, I sigh back. I
notice her feet move apart from underneath the stall, her black stiletto slides
its way over to my side, revealing a naked, slender calf. She stretches her long
leg stiff; I watch her delicious calf muscle clench and unclench with spastic,
electrical intensity. She pants to keep up with the pulse, moaning between each
breath.
I spread apart my dehydrated leaves to
massage my swollen cherry seed, my preserved fruit tickles and grows ripe,
quickly transforming into a healthy oily red. Tepid juice drips between my legs;
accelerating into an uninhibited, flow of golden release. |