Chapter 3: Full of Suprises
The air in Wanda’s bathroom was steamy, thick with the scent of bergamot from a candle flickering on the toilet tank. The tub was an old, deep clawfoot, the porcelain stained in places but scoured clean. They had filled it just enough to cover the bottom, a shallow, lukewarm pool that did nothing to hide the expanse of their bodies.
Lisa lay on her back, the cool curve of the tub pressing into her spine. The water barely lapped at the sides of her hips. Her body felt enormous like this, a pale landscape of soft rises and deep valleys. Her breasts spread against her chest, nipples dark and tight in the humid air. The swell of her stomach formed a gentle dome, and her thighs, slick with water and sweat, touched from hip to knee, a solid, warm weight.
Wanda knelt over her, a goddess of warm brown skin and flowing black hair. Her own curves were more pronounced, hips flaring widely from a narrow waist, her breasts heavy and swaying as she moved. She braced her hands on the tub’s rim, caging Lisa in. They had been drinking water and weak tea for an hour, a deliberate, giggly preparation that felt like a sacred ritual. The earlier nervousness was gone, replaced by a buzzing, focused anticipation.
“You ready?” Wanda asked, her voice low.
Lisa nodded, her throat dry despite all the liquid. “Yeah.”
Wanda leaned down and kissed her. It was slow, deep, a tasting. Then she pulled back just enough to gather a thick pool of saliva in her mouth. Lisa watched, mesmerized, as Wanda’s tongue appeared, pushing the silver string of spit from between her lips. It fell, warm and surprisingly heavy, onto Lisa’s sternum, sliding down into the cleft between her breasts.
“Your turn,” Wanda whispered.
Lisa mimicked the action, the act itself feeling obscenely intimate. She spat. Her saliva landed on Wanda’s collarbone, a glistening, transient mark. They continued like this, a silent, wet trade. Spit on a shoulder, on a chin, in the hollow of a throat. They kissed again, and Lisa could taste herself and Wanda and something faintly metallic, a pure, animal exchange.
The need to piss, held at bay during this liquid foreplay, became urgent.
“I have to go,” Lisa murmured against Wanda’s mouth.
“Me too.”
They shifted in the confined space. Wanda moved to sit at Lisa’s feet, her back against the opposite end of the tub, drawing her knees up. Lisa mirrored her, so they sat facing each other, knees drawn up, their feet tangled in the middle. The position pushed Lisa’s stomach into a soft, round mound, her pussy exposed, the lips swollen and parting slightly.
“On me,” Wanda said, not a question, but a soft command. “Let me see it.”
Lisa closed her eyes, focusing on the hot, insistent pressure in her bladder. She let the muscles go. The sound of her stream hitting the shallow water was loud, a strong, hissing torrent. But she angled her hips forward. The hot, golden arc cleared the water and splashed directly onto Wanda’s shins, her knees, the dark thatch of curls between her legs.
Wanda gasped, a sound of pure relief and pleasure. Almost instantly, her own stream joined Lisa’s, a second hot fountain that crossed the small space, hitting Lisa’s lower belly, her thighs, mixing with the water already there. The sensation was incredible—the heat of Wanda’s piss painting her skin, the smell, sharp and ammoniac, rising around them, the visual filth of it all. They were marking each other, baptizing each other in this most basic fluid.
As their streams weakened to drips, they were both panting, flushed, sitting in a tub now clouded with their release.
“Drink,” Wanda said, her eyes dark.
She scooped a handful of the tepid, yellow-tinged water from between her own legs and brought it to Lisa’s lips. Lisa opened her mouth without hesitation. The taste was bitter, salty, unmistakable. She swallowed, the warmth of it hitting her empty stomach. She did the same, cupping water from her own lap, lifting it to Wanda’s mouth. Wanda drank eagerly, her tongue licking Lisa’s palm clean.
They kissed again, the flavor of each other’s waste lingering on their tongues, a profound intimacy that obliterated every last boundary. Lisa felt lightheaded, wildly turned on, her cunt throbbing with a need that was more than physical. It was a need for total acceptance, and in this moment, she had it.
Then, a pressure of a different kind built in her gut. A deep, gaseous shift from all the tea, the water, the nerves. She tried to clamp down, but it was sudden and insistent. A low, bubbling fart escaped her, a blunt, wet sound that vibrated through the water.
Silence, for a heartbeat.
Then Wanda snorted. A giggle burst from Lisa’s own mouth, shocked and helpless. The sheer absurdity of it, after the intensity of what they’d just done, broke the spell. They laughed, deep, belly-shaking laughs that made the water slosh, their bodies jiggling.
“Oh my god,” Lisa wheezed, tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t you dare be sorry,” Wanda said, but her laughter faded, replaced by something hungrier, more curious. Her gaze fixed on Lisa’s face, then traveled down her body with a new, intense focus. “Turn over.”
“What?”
“On your knees. Over the side of the tub. Now.”
The shift was so abrupt, from shared hilarity to sudden command, that Lisa moved on pure instinct. She scrambled, water sloshing over the side, getting on her hands and knees in the tub, her ass presented towards Wanda, her upper body leaning over the cold porcelain rim. Her heart hammered. She was completely exposed, the round, full moons of her buttocks, the damp crease between them. She felt a fresh wave of embarrassment. He just farted there, she thought, mortified.
She felt Wanda’s hands first, spreading her cheeks apart. The cool air of the bathroom hit her most private hole, making her flinch.
“Wanda, don’t, it’s…”
“It’s perfect,” Wanda whispered, her voice a hot breath against Lisa’s skin.
And then her tongue was there.
It wasn’t a tentative flick. It was a broad, wet, deliberate swipe from the bottom of Lisa’s pussy, all the way up through the crease to the top of her asshole. Lisa cried out, her fingers scrabbling against the slick tub. The sensation was overwhelming, shocking in its specificity. The humiliation of the moment before twisted, morphing into something else entirely. Wanda knew. She knew exactly what had just happened there, and she was diving in anyway.
Wanda ate her ass with a thorough, relentless dedication. She circled the tight, wrinkled pucker with the pointed tip of her tongue, teasing it. She flattened her tongue and lapped at it, spreading saliva, making the whole area slick. She pushed, gently at first, then with more insistence, the very tip of her tongue breaching the tight outer ring of muscle.
Lisa’s mind fractured. The sensation was obscene, filthy beyond anything she’d ever imagined. The knowledge that Wanda’s face was buried in the exact spot she’d just farted from should have been the ultimate turn-off. It was the opposite. It felt like the deepest, most perverse acceptance possible. Wanda was claiming every part of her, every function, every secret, messy detail. There was no rejection. Only hungry, enthusiastic consumption.
A deep, guttural moan tore from Lisa’s throat. She pushed back against Wanda’s mouth, her body acting on its own primal accord. Her cunt was dripping, a steady leak of arousal that mixed with the water and piss on her thighs. Wanda moaned in response, the vibration against Lisa’s asshole sending jolts of electric pleasure straight to her core.
Wanda pulled back for a second, panting. “God, you taste so good. So fucking dirty.” Her hands kneaded the generous flesh of Lisa’s ass, spreading her wider. “I want more.”
“More what?” Lisa gasped, her face pressed to the cool rim.
“I want you to fart in my mouth.”
The words hung in the steamy air. Lisa froze. The laughter from before was a distant memory. This was a line she hadn’t seen, hadn’t even imagined crossing. It felt different from piss, from spitting. It was bodily, involuntary, fundamentally rude in a way that struck at a deep, childish core of shame.
“I… I can’t,” she whispered.
“Yes, you can.” Wanda’s voice was coaxing, feverish. “I know you can feel it. I just loosened you up with my tongue. Push it out. For me. Give it to me.”
Lisa tried. She clenched, then pushed. Nothing. The pressure was there, a faint, gaseous bubble, but her body, trained by a lifetime of manners, locked down. “It’s not working.”
“Relax.” Wanda’s tongue was back, pressing inside her again, fucking her asshole with shallow, penetrating thrusts. “Stop thinking. You’re just an animal. A beautiful, fat animal. Let it go. Feed me.”
Feed me.
The phrase did something. It transformed the act from an embarrassing accident to a deliberate gift. A surrender of another kind. Lisa closed her eyes. She blocked out everything—the room, the candle, her own pounding heart. She focused on the feeling of Wanda’s talented tongue inside her, on the building, insistent pressure in her colon. She stopped trying to force it. Instead, she imagined opening, releasing, presenting this most base offering.
She breathed out, long and slow, and let her abdominal muscles go completely.
It started as a low rumble, a deep vibration she felt more than heard. Then it escaped, a warm, prolonged puff of air directly onto Wanda’s waiting tongue and lips. It wasn’t loud, but it was palpable, a intimate emission.
Wanda didn’t pull away. She made a sound—a muffled, eager groan—and pressed her face closer, her mouth sealing over Lisa’s asshole as if to capture every last bit. She sucked lightly, then licked again, greedily.
“Fuck, yes,” she breathed, her voice thick with lust. “That’s it. Your nasty little ass giving me everything.”
The combination of Wanda’s ravenous acceptance and the sheer, shocking reality of what she’d just done ignited a conflagration in Lisa’s nerves. She came, instantly and violently. Her orgasm ripped through her with no warning, a seizure of pleasure that clenched her ass around Wanda’s tongue and made her scream into the porcelain tub. Her hips bucked, her vision whited out. It was the most intense, unexpected climax of her life, rooted in a shame so thoroughly obliterated it left only pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
She collapsed forward, trembling, spent. Wanda gently withdrew, her hands soothing on Lisa’s quaking flanks.
“Okay,” Lisa panted into the crook of her arm. “Okay. Wow.”
Wanda chuckled, a low, sated sound. She maneuvered in the tub, pulling Lisa back until they were sitting again, Lisa’s back against Wanda’s front, cradled in the warm, wet cradle of her body. Wanda’s arms wrapped around Lisa’s stomach, her chin resting on Lisa’s shoulder. They sat in the cooling, fouled water, breathing together.
“You,” Wanda said softly, kissing the side of Lisa’s neck, “are full of surprises.”
Lisa leaned her head back, looking at the cracked ceiling. The adrenaline was receding, leaving a profound, bone-deep peace in its wake. She felt emptied and filled at the same time. Every hidden chamber of her body, every secret function, had been witnessed, tasted, and adored. There was no part of her left that Wanda didn’t own.
“So are you,” Lisa whispered back.
They sat in silence for a long time, until the water grew cold and their fingertips pruned. Finally, Wanda nudged her. “Come on. Let’s get clean. For real this time.”
They stood, water cascading off their heavy, beautiful bodies. They didn’t shy from looking at each other. Lisa saw the faint, proud smile on Wanda’s face. Wanda saw the dazed, peaceful wonder in Lisa’s eyes.
Under the hot shower spray, they washed each other with simple soap, scrubbing away the night’s specific filth but not its meaning. As the suds swirled down the drain, Lisa knew the bathroom, the tub, this entire apartment, would forever be a cathedral in her mind. The place where she finally, completely, came home to herself.