CHAPTER 26: KERRY’S HISSING PUSSY

Kerry walked ahead, her steps confident, her bare feet pressing into the grass. I followed close behind, my gaze locked onto the sway of her hips—the way her ass shifted with each step, the way the hide clung to the curve of her thighs.

The dampness between her legs was obvious now, the glistening trail dripping down her skin, the scent of her—musky, sweet, intoxicating—filling the air between us.

"Dexter, you can piss here." She pointed to a patch of grass, her voice practical—maternal. "And remember—when you poop, dig a hole..." She mimed the motion with her hands, her fingers pressing into the earth. "And after you’re done, fill the hole again with the dirt."

I nodded, but my mind was elsewhere.

Because Kerry was still standing there.

And if I played this right?

I was about to see everything.

The way her thighs would part. The way her pussy would glisten. The way she would let go—completely, unfiltered—right in front of me.

The thought made my cock throb, my pulse pounding in my ears.

"Aunt..." I asked, my voice curious—innocent. "How did you come up with this method? Covering your poop like that?"

Kerry sighed, her fingers combing through the tall grass as she remembered, her voice taking on a nostalgic, almost amused tone. The sunlight caught the sheen of sweat on her skin, the way her chest rose and fell with the memory, her nipples—still hard, still aching—pressing against the leaves covering them.

"It was decided by all the people..." she murmured, her dark eyes distant for a moment. "I remember when I was a kid..." Her lips twitched, a small, wry smile playing at the corners.

"I’d come here to take a piss..." She shuddered, her face scrunched in disgust. "Sometimes, my foot would squish—" She mimed the motion, her toes curling in the grass. "—right into someone else’s poop."

Her expression twisted, her nose wrinkling like she could still smell it. "It was disgusting." She shuddered again, her fingers clenching into fists before relaxing.

"Made us all dirty. And it happened all the time—everyone stepping in it, tracking it back to the huts..." She exhaled sharply, her voice dry. "So after a lot of discussion—and a lot of complaining—" she chuckled, her eyes flickering to me—"we came up with this method."

She gestured to the ground, her voice practical now. "Dig a hole, do your business, cover it back up." Her fingers mimed the motions—digging, squatting, burying—her movements efficient, learned. "Keeps everything clean. Keeps the smell away." She nodded to herself, like she was proud of the solution.

I nodded, but my mind was already racing.

Because Kerry was still standing there.

And I was about to watch her unravel.

Kerry’s voice was firm, but distracted, her fingers twitching at the edges of her leaf skirt as she spoke. "So Dexter, you must also follow these rules..." She didn’t wait for an answer.

Instead, she shifted her weight, her bare feet pressing into the soft earth as she lowered herself down, the dried leaves of her skirt rustling around her thighs.

And then—

She lifted it.

My breath caught in my throat as her fingers hooked into the rough edges of her skirt, pulling it up—slowly, deliberately—revealing the dark, curly bush between her thighs.

It was thick, wild, untamed—a tangle of black curls that glistened with the sheen of her arousal, the musky scent of her filling the air between us.

Her bush—thick, black, wild—curled in dense, glossy rings around her pussy, the dark hair clinging to the damp pink flesh beneath. The scent of her hit me first—musky, earthy, intoxicating—the heat of her aching cunt filling the air between us.

Her lips were already parted, swollen from arousal, glistening with the juices that had been dripping down her thighs the whole walk here. And fuck—her clit, peeking out from its hood, engorged and throbbing, begging for touch.

Then—

Her fingers moved.

Two of them, spreading herself wide, stretching the flesh around her pussy like she was offering it to me. The pink of her cunt was obscene, wet, the inner lips puffy and slick with need. And then—

—the first hiss.

A thin, steady stream of piss escaped her, splattering into the grass beneath her with a soft, wet sound. The hissing noise it made—hot, uncontrolled, filthy—sent a jolt straight to my cock, making it twitch violently in my grip.

Kerry’s thighs trembled, her muscles clenching as the stream grew stronger, thicker, splashing against the earth in obscene little bursts.

"Nnngh—!" A soft, involuntary moan slipped from her lips as she pushed, her stomach tightening, her breath hitching in her throat.

The sound of it—the hiss, the drip, the splash—was maddening, primitive, fucking perfect. Her pussy twitched with every spurt, her clit pulsing as the last of her arousal mixed with the piss, dripping down in thick, shiny streaks.

And then—

The way she milked herself dry.

Her fingers pressed against her pussy lips, squeezing them together like a man jerking the last drops from his cock.

A final, weak spurt escaped, dribbling down her thighs, but she wasn’t done—her muscles flexed, her hips rolling slightly as she pushed, forcing out every last drop.

The last of her stream hissed into the grass, the sound fading into a soft drip—drip—drip—as the final droplets clung to her swollen lips. Kerry’s fingers twitched, pressing against herself, milking out every last bit—just like a man would squeeze the base of his cock, forcing out those stubborn final drops that always seemed to linger.

But no matter how hard she tried—no matter how much she shifted her hips, no matter how tightly she squeezed—there was always one left.

Always.

A single, glistening drop, clinging to the edges of her pussy lips, hidden in the dark, curly folds of her bush—waiting.

Waiting to be found.

Waiting to be licked away.

The sight of her—spread, dripping, completely exposed—made my cock throb painfully. Pre-cum beaded at the tip, dripping down my shaft as I stared, transfixed.

The grass beneath her was soaked, glistening with the proof of her release, the scent of her piss mixing with the musky aroma of her arousal—fucking intoxicating.

When she was done, she glanced up at me—

—and froze.