Date: Tue, 24 Nov 2015 02:58:14 +0100
From: jt.poopinhinder@mail.com
Subject: Draining Drew's Drizzler

DRAINING DREW'S DRIZZLER
By J.T. Poopinhinder
M/b, oral, anal, WS

This story is a work of fiction. If it's illegal where you live or
distasteful to you personally, please don't read it. And please support the
Nifty Archive.

http://donate.nifty.org/donate.html

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =
CHAPTER ONE
= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Life is a big, wet mystery sometimes, and at 12, my nephew Drew was still
wetting the bed. It wasn't a huge disaster, because it turns out Drew's a
scampy little piss hound anyway, but the bedwetting still honestly bothered
him because it was out of his control.

"I try not to do it, Uncle Mark," he said to me once when he was very
little, "but it just squirts out of me all on its own. I have dreams I make
pee and when I wake up, the pee is really there."

That was perfectly fine with me. I'm just about the biggest piss-lover
you're likely to find, and the thought of any liquid at all squirting from
my nephew's loins, drop or quart, yellow or clear, was enough to send me
into the highest stellar orbit. The older he got, the more it turned me on.

I've enjoyed a close, tactile, touchy-sweet relationship with Drew all his
young life, and as his sweet little pee stick went from baby to toddler,
toddler to adolescent, then adolescent to tween, I found him growing more
and more arousing, more responsive to my touch, more purposely flirtatious
right back at me. In a way, it was almost predetermined we'd eventually
turn our fantasies into drinking games.

He saw the way I looked at him every time he peed next to me at a urinal.

"Caught you looking at my peeper again," he'd giggle and I'd make a great
show of opening my eyes really wind and leaning in for a closer look, which
would make him jut it forward wiggle it around, and spray piss all over the
sides of the urinal, and sometimes a few stray sprays on the two of us too.

He knew I was looking at his cute, stream-gushing cock, and I knew that he
was checking me out too, watching my yellower, stronger stream. Once when
he was 9, he even stuck his little finger out, directly into my piss
stream, giggled, looked at me, and licked it off.

"Mmm," he said, smacking his lips. "Salty."

I jacked off over those words for the next three weeks.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I was well-accustomed to the delicious smells of Drew.

Being one of those uncles who can never quite get enough of the closeness
and the comfort of my nephews, or the pervy thoughts that closeness
generated, I'd look for any excuse to be near them in sight, sound and
scent.

I'd cuddle them on the couch. Tickle them mercilessly. Scratch their little
backs. Rub their sore little limbs after soccer, taking any remote chance
to lean in and breathe their hot air, their light-musky neck sweat, arm
sweat, hair sweat, pit sweat, crotch pheromones. Whatever they were
exuding, I wanted to smell it.

I used to do this thing where I'd fly Drew around the house like
Superman. He giggled like mad when I did it, he couldn't get enough of
it. And in the course of my normal flight plan, completely unknown to him,
I was doing two things simultaneously. Letting one hand cup magically
around his perfect little boy pouch, and letting my face, mouth and nose
bend into the baggy bottoms of his sweat pants for a deep drive-by hit from
his huffable hinder, usually warm and fragrant from his giggling
ministrations.

When you're an aching man, hungry for the love, affection and physical
contact from the most beautiful, touchable, smellable boy in the universe,
you do what you can to put your face in all the right parts of him whenever
you can. You become industrious. Shifty. Sneaky. Stealthy. You find ways to
put your face as close to his hot little puffbox and his sweet little maple
stick wherever and whenever you can.

Flying Drew as Superman was one of the best ways ever to smell him and
touch him. It was devious, duplicitous and double-dog-daring. But it made
my dick leak. Just the hot, giggly smell of him. It made my dick jump tall
buildings thinking of the day I might finally stick it inside him.

And when he giggled so hard I felt his warm squirts of piss start to fill
the cup of his sweat pants, I pressed even harder against him. Smelled even
deeper.

"I'm pissing on your hand, Uncle Mark," he whispered in my ear so the
others couldn't hear. "I'm pissing on your hand on purpose."

My dick was so hard even Kryptonite couldn't stop it.

My cock and Drew's purposely pissing little dickie-pouch. Up, up and away.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

So, Drew, even young, was a budding little piss boy. And since I was his
favorite Uncle, I was just biding my time, waiting for his hormones and his
sexual-need to finally catch up with his penchant for giggly piss play. The
two of those things were bound to meet in the middle someday like they did
for me when I was a kid, and the fact that Drew still wet the bed at 12 was
just delicious, drizzly icing on the piss-soaked sponge cake.

As much as it would have turned me on to talk about it morning, noon and
night at every family social gathering, we adults in the family didn't talk
about his bedwetting a whole lot in front of him because we didn't want to
embarrass him. Still, my sister gave me occasional status reports.

"I think it smells stronger now, Mark, is that possible?" she asked me last
month. "Like it's not so maple and little boyish anymore. I pulled back his
sheets this morning and it was actually kind of strong and musky
smelling. I actually took a step backwards. Like it's got some pheromones
mixed into it now. Like there's a new seriousness to it."

I thought my dick was about to snap off from the sudden rush of blood,
hearing her describe it.  Good Lord," she rolled her eyes. "It's puberty
piss."

I jacked over THOSE words for the NEXT three weeks.

So, the rest of the family kept a mum's the word policy on Drew's yellow
yum-yums, all except his brother Devin who was almost 15, and his sister
Darby who was 13, pure cat claws, and a major pain-in-the-ass.

They'd pick on Drew mercilessly whenever it was convenient, and it left
poor Drew most mornings with a soggy Pull-Up and some low self-esteem. I
could always cheer him up with some giggle and tickle games, some with
dirty piss talk involved, but the whole idea of pissing the bed was
embarrassing to Drew, it wasn't like our regular piss-giggle fun, I was
determined to change that. When it comes to piss, a rose is a rose is a
rose.

Pull-Ups, Good-Nites, mattress pads, Drew used them all, and sometimes more
than one a night.

And the dick-hardening truth of the matter is, while Drew was deathly
embarrassed he couldn't flip his bladder to the off position when he hit
the hay at night, I was so turned on by the thought of my nephew's piss
squirting freely out of that sweet, cut cocklet of his and into that
nighttime diaper, I would have let him squat right on my face and do his
duty, soggy diaper flapping in my face and nighttime muscle control be
damned.

I knew from urinal duty what a beautiful little 12-year-old cock he had,
nestled right under that still-hairless v-spot of his, and it was all I
could do half the time to sit on the couch next to him without leaning in
close and trying to inhale the stale hints of leftover piss from the night
before.

I inhaled deeply and illogically anytime I sat by him, hoping to catch a
whiff, a waft, or any leftover trace of the honey-sweet maple urine he
voided the night before, or the darker, deeper, more serious "puberty piss"
my sister hinted at, all soaked into the smooth skin of his baby-smooth
ball sack and the sweet patch of skin where his still-absent pubes would
someday grow.

I've been a piss-lover since I was a kid, but we can talk about that later.

This is a story about Drew and our pee games together. You know how they
say one man's trash is another man's treasure? Well, in Drew I found the
perfect co-conspirator in some nasty incestuous piss and sex action. Our
flirting went from dry to wet, clean to dirty in a heartbeat, it culminated
in a pissy, shitty, cherry-popping finale, and this is how it happened.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

Before we actually had sex together, before our piss games began in
earnest, I used to go up to Drew's bedroom when no one was home, and
literally kneel down next to his little twin bed and sniff the hell out of
his pee-stale mattress. No mattress pads or Good-Nites in the world could
keep up with Drew's prodigious output, so there was always plenty leftover
to smell.

It was stale, rank, and maple-hot goodness. So when the rest of the family
was out, I'd huff face down in his little hot piss-stink while I took my
cock out and stroked it to a mind-blowing cum shot all over a pair of his
undies I'd grab from the hamper.

"Hot little piss boy," I'd whisper to his empty bedroom. "You want to eat
this hot load of cum, you hot little piss boy?"

I'd jack my cock and smell his stale piss, and with a blinding grunt that
usually made me see sparkles in front of my eyes, I'd shoot my cum right
into the sweet skeeter and shart tracks his sweet boy slit left behind.

There was nothing better than the fantasies I had while I breeded Drew's
dirty underpants and smelled his rancid, hot piss stains straight off the
mattress.

"I just put my cum in your ass, Drew," I'd whisper to the silent room. "Did
you piss on your bed when my cock was pumping cum up inside you?"

In my wildest dreams and fantasies, I'd be sleeping next to Drew, cuddled
up next to him in his privately locked room, in a bed built for one,
spooned up tight like two lost lovers, and when my warm hand wrapped around
his rigid nighttime boy boner felt him beginning to let loose in his
Pull-Up, I'd somehow manage to flip him around in time, pull down his soggy
diaper and suck the last salty-hot drops of boy piss straight out of his
squirting-hard member.

In my ever-present fantasies, I'd drain Drew's drizzler, and suck that
sweet pre-pubescent boy piss right down into my gullet. I hungered for that
kid's piss. Lusted after it. Fixated on it. The need to drink it was nearly
overwhelming.

I imagined myself drinking my fill of those last waning drops of nectar
while my spit-slippery fingertip slid all the way up into his hot, slimy
fuck-chamber, all greasy and stinky with the funk of his unwiped
bottom. All Drew, all messy, all boy.

And then one day at a breakfast restaurant, I got it.

I got my first long taste of Drew's salty yellow piss load.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

We were out for breakfast one weekend, a family tradition, when the usual
teasing nonsense started from the older kids. If they weren't talking about
the sharts and skeets Drew left in his undies, they were almost certain to
bring up the piss he left on his mattress pad the night before.

"You shoulda seen how much piss Drew squirted the bed with last night,
Uncle Mark," my nephew Devin told me, a stack of IHOP pancakes in front of
him and a shit-eating grin like a demon on his face.

Drew looked helpless at the onslaught. His face flushed red in anger and
shame and he kicked out at Devin under the table.

"Oww! Knock it off, Skeeter. Knock it off, Skeety-Pete."

"Drew's a little pissy-baby," Darby chimed in, always eager to add fuel to
the fire. "Pisses his bed and skeets his shorts."

"Knock it off" my sister hollered. But it was too late. The fragile damage
was already done.

Drew excused himself and walked quickly to the bathroom, head down, face
red, tears streaming while my sister chastised his sibs and I stood up to
follow him into the men's room. Uncle Mark to the rescue, mostly
compassion, but a whole lot of ulterior motive bubbling in my ball sack and
looking for a hot little depository.

We were alone in the restaurant's small bathroom, one urinal and one stall,
so I locked the door, and he quickly ran into my arms, hugging me and
burying his head.

"I can't help it, Uncle Mark," he sniffled. "It's not like I try to do it."

"Shhh," I told him. "I know, buddy. I know."

Just the feel of his soft shape against mine, the tousled two-day sweat of
his soccer-playing hair, and the scent of his barely-pumping pits and
pheromones had my cock almost immediately hard, an instant occurrence when
I snuggled next to Drew.

I leaned down and smelled his hair, lit on fire by the sweaty nearness of
him.

Watching him play soccer with his friends or sitting at home on the couch
with his iPad in his hand, all I could imagine was sucking that little
cocklet, drinking directly from that sweet little piss spout, and licking
the flecks and specks from that sweaty, musky hiney hole, that nasty-hot
sweet-crack, that place I hoped to bury the full length of my cock someday.

Shit or no shit, I wanted to coat my cock with the remnants of Drew. Let
him be wiped, let him not be wiped. It didn't matter. My cock wanted in.

"I don't even drink any water before bed," he sniffled. "And I still
pee. Stupid dumb pee, all the time."

He crossed his arms stubbornly in front of him, as if he could ward it away
by sheer defiance and will.

"Pee's just pee, buddy," I reassured him. "Besides," I added
conspiratorially with a sly whisper, "Piss is fun."

He looked up wide-eyed and giggled at my casual use of the grown-up P-word.

"You said piss," he whispered. "That's bad," he giggled.

I shrugged. "So? Remember when I pissed on your finger in the movie theater
urinals? And you tasted it? And you said it was salty. That was fucking
fun."

He giggled again. It always starts with the swear words. "Yeah," he
nodded. "Fucking fun."

I smiled at his mimicry. What other behaviors could I get him to copy?

"I need to piss right now," I told him casually. "Want to taste it again?"

His eyes bugged out. He smiled. He nodded.

We'd peed together plenty of times, out in the woods, on camping trips or
side-by-side at urinals just about everywhere. Movie theaters, baseball
games, uncles and nephews pee together constantly.

"But there's only one urinal," he said, shrugging toward the upright.
"Someone might come in."

"Then let's go in the stall," I told him, and nudged him to the handicapped
stall at the end of the empty bathroom. Plenty of room for two.

I took out my cock, four inches and fat even when soft, a sturdy six when
it's long and hard and I started my flow.

"Wow," Drew whispered. "You got a big one. You piss a lot."

"Taste it," I told him. "Go ahead. Put a finger in."

Drew grinned, stuck his finger in, held it in the stream and let me slowly
coat his forefinger up and down.

"Lick it," I prompted him.

He did.

"Strong," he said, squeezing his eyes shut. He held it out for a refill and
tasted it again getting a little more this time. And a little bit in his
cupped palm, which he drank like just a little taste of water from the
riverbank.

My flow stopped. Spent. I watched him rolling my piss around in his mouth,
swallowing the drops he'd collected. "Good," he pronounced. "Not gross at
all."

He smiled. Proud to be this daring and nasty with me.

"Now you go," I told him. "Pull out your dick and piss for me so I can
taste some."

I watched him pull his pants down midway, pull his 12-year-old cocklet out
and aim it at the toilet. In a moment I was rewarded by a strong bright
yellow stream of piss, shooting out of his nozzle. I could smell it rising
up in an instant. Hot maple.

My hand immediately went back to his butt and my finger slid down into his
crack. It felt slimy and slippery. Not completely wiped.

"OH!" he gasped, jerking a little and spraying his pee stream on the floor
before finding the toilet again. I nuzzled up to his neck.

"I'm just going to finger you a little, Drew," I whispered. "Finger your
crack while you pee for me, okay?"

"Okay," he said quietly, all little boy.

I let my finger slide up and down the length of his crack, touching his
little hole but not penetrating it. I heard him sigh. His stream was
starting to slow. I dropped to my knees.

"Turn around Drew," I ordered. "Quick. Pee in my mouth."

He looked puzzled for a heartbeat, but then did what I asked.

As soon as I dropped to my knees, he swiveled around, and still holding his
half-hard peener between his thumb and his forefinger, aimed it directly
into my mouth, spraying my shirt a little in the process, but otherwise
accurately finding his target.

My lips wrapped around his drizzling pee stick, and I was rewarded by
instant, electrifying heaven, my nephew's steam-hot piss, shooting directly
into my mouth. Oh God, this was a moment I'd waited so long for! I've
wanted this since he was little, little, little, and now here he was 12,
and sexy, and pissing in my mouth, and letting me drink it directly from
his cock. The taper-off magic of his hot, forceful piss stream!

I gulped to keep up. Oh God, it was delicious! Like hot and salty miso
soup. Like the soup that comes out before the sushi is served. It filled my
mouth and burned my throat as it went down. There was almost too much. My
finger, still in his crack, found his greasy bottom hole, and pushed inside
to the first knuckle.

"Oh God," he groaned as my fingertip slipped inside of him, causing him to
jut his hips forward and stand up on his tippy toes, pushing his
still-pissing cock even farther into my mouth.

His piss stream weakened, and I swallowed his last output, happy,
satisfied, my tummy full, even though I'd only taken a fraction of his
load. His cock was still half-soft but mine was hard as a nail and leaking
pre-cum. I took my finger out of his ass and held it under my nose. I
moaned out loud at his sour-cheesy musk smell. Total ambrosia. Pure, sweet
boy ass.

"Wow," Drew whispered. "You just drank my pee, Uncle Mark."

"Say piss," I corrected him. "Say you just drank my piss."

"You just drank my piss," he giggled.

He pulled his peter back away from my face and quickly tucked it back in
his undies where I could see it squirt a final drop of yellow into the soft
white pouch of the cotton.

I stood up and my cock was huge.

"Wow," he whispered. "Your boner is gigantic right now."

"Watch this," I told him. "Hold out your hand."

"Are you gonna shoot it?" he asked excitedly. "Is it gonna go off?"

I nodded. Repeated, "Hold your hand out for me." It wasn't going to take me
long

He did what I asked, and I turned his hand, palm up.

I jacked my cock nine, ten, eleven times, and with a private grunt, shot a
big wad of cum into his little open palm. He jerked his hand back like it
gave him a shock. His eyes went wide. I grabbed his wrist and shoved it
forward into my cock tip again so he could catch the rest of my cumload,
which was still shooting.

"Wow," he whispered, amazed at the thick, white goo of it. It burbled into
him. Filled his cupped palm.

"It's hot," he whispered. "Super hot."

I dragged my forefinger through the load and tried to put some to his lips,
but he grinned and made a face. Jerked his head back. "No way. Gross."

"It's good," I told him. "Eat some."

"Uh-uh," he grinned. No way. He grabbed some toilet paper and quickly wiped
my cum off his hand, threw it in the bowl and flushed it. "No way, Jose."

But as my cum-lost toilet wad was going down the drain, I saw Drew sniff
his palm. He made a slight face. He sniffed it again a second time. Deeper,
longer, then his little tongue darted out and tentatively touched his skin
where the cum used to be.

"Good?" I asked him.

"Gross," he giggled, and ran out of the restroom, leaving me there to clean
up my cock and pull up my pants. "See you at the table, cum pants."

And that's how the real piss play with my nephew began.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

I was so turned on by drinking Drew's piss and jacking off in front of him,
I needed to go to the house the next day, just to be near his stuff, his
room, his undies, his anything.

No one was there, so I assumed everyone was late getting home from school
or the store, so I went straight up to Drew's room and checked his bedside
trash can for what I already knew would be there, and sure enough, there it
was, a soggy overnight diaper from the night before.

I had my pants down and my hard cock out before you could say lickity
split, and I held that heavy piss trap right up to my nose and huffed like
heaven. It was cold and not even damp to the touch. Whoever designs these
things does a hell of a job. My face wasn't even getting wet and I could
barely detect a hint of stale pee trapped inside the bulky piss gel of the
crotch pouch.

"Insult," I've heard that was called by the diaper makers. The part where
the pee hits the diaper. That's called the insult. And standing there with
Drew's overnight diaper to my face, jacking my cock and speaking
unthinkable things out loud to him, the soggy weight of his insult from the
night before was going to make me add a new insult to that diaper in
seconds.

"Ohhhhh, you hot little pussy boy," I whispered. "Come on baby, give it all
up. Give Uncle Mark that sweet load of piss. Let me stick my dick in and
out of your sweet shitty butthole while you piss all over the sheets for
me, you sexy little diaper boy. You're gonna eat my cum this time, baby
boy. You're gonna eat it all up and swallow it. And if you're not going to
eat it, I'm going to inject it up your ass."

And no sooner were the words out of my mouth than..."Nnnnghhh! FUCK!!" I
felt my wad boil up from the depth of my balls and I barely had time to
move the diaper down to my dick head before I blasted a thick white wad of
jizz all over the love patch of his soggy, used overnight.

"OH FUCK," I grunted as I came like a fire hose and mingled my semen with
my nephews nocturnal pee load. "Gonna fuck you so hard."

And from the doorway...Drew!

"WOW, Uncle Mark! You did it again! You juiced out your white stuff! COOL!"

I turned around, cock out and still oozing, and there was Drew, mouth open,
eyes as wide as saucers, staring at my spurting cock. If he heard me
shouting out my fantasies of fucking him, that seemed to be overshadowed by
the fact that he'd just seen me physically spurt again.

"Hey little man," I grinned, wiping my cock off in his diaper and trying to
make myself presentable, "I guess you caught me with my pants down. I got
so excited thinking about what we did in the bathroom yesterday, I had to
do it again."

"Wow," he whispered again. "You really do like my pee," he said. "My piss,"
he corrected himself.

"Uh-huh," I nodded. Putting my dick away. "I like your piss a lot."

"My piss makes you squirt your jizz like that?"

"Every time," I nodded. I went for honesty. "Your piss turns me on so much,
Drew, It's all I can think of sometimes. When I'm home, I jack off all the
time, thinking of your piss."

He stood silently for a minute, taking this in.

"Can I see your cock again?" he asked quietly.

I opened the diaper and showed it to him, softening now but still large,
oozing with the creamy trail of my own thick juice-wad.

"Wow," he said. "Sticky. I wish I would have ate some. You know. In the
bathroom yesterday."

I shrugged down toward it, inviting him. Like, here it is. Why waste it?

He came over, tentatively touched it with his finger, brought it to his
mouth and licked it. He made a funny face, unsure of himself, a grimace,
but then he swallowed.

"Oh, Drew!" I inhaled sharply as I watched his throat wiggle and gulp it
down.

So fucking hot, watching him eat a big fingerful of my cream.

"Do it again," he said, pointing at my cock. "Make it squirt again."

"I can't," I said. "I have to let it build back up. It has to recharge."

His own hand went down his pants and started rubbing at his little cocklet,
which I could see was hard already.

"I wanna do it with you sometime, okay, Uncle Mark? You know. Rub our
wieners at the same time. Watch you squirt your stuff again."

"Okay," I said. "We can do that."

"Can I eat some more?"

I nodded. He stuck another finger in. Scooped up another wad. Ate it. Made
a face, but swallowed it down.

"You really feel sexy and have to squirt your stuff out because of my pee?"
he asked, incredulously. "Even my pee when I wet the bed?"

"Your piss turns me on a lot, Drew. Especially your piss when you wet the
bed."

"You wanna drink it out of me and stuff?"

"Yeah. I do. I'd like to drink it right out of you when you're sleeping.
All of it. Drink the whole load out of you."

He giggled. "That's gross."

"I know," I said honestly.

"But it kinda makes my dick hard."

"Yeah. It makes my dick really hard too."

"Can I sleep over at your house next weekend?" he asked. "You know. Without
Devin and Darby? And you can teach me piss stuff. And rub wieners? And I
can drink the cream out of yours?"

I moaned out loud. I'd move hell and high water to make that sleepover
happen.

"Of course you can Drew. That would make me so happy."

"I can piss all over you if you want me to," he said simply. "You know. In
the bathtub and stuff. We can take our clothes off and I can piss all over
you. On your face and on your chest. In your mouth if you want it there."

My loud moan was all he needed to know I wanted it there.

"Let me see your jizz again," he whispered. "Open it up again." I held out
the diaper to him.

He took it in his hand, studied the creamy pouch, then brought it directly
to his face, smelled it, looked at me, then with courage and bravado, stuck
out his tongue and lapped it all up. He ate every bit of remaining cum out
of that soggy-pissy Good Nite.

"Mmmm," he said bravely, but still making a face. "It tastes like nuts or
something. Like Grape Nuts. Like old people cereal."

I laughed. It does sort of.

I could see he had a boner and needed relief. I pulled him to me in a
hug. Slid my hand down inside the warm, loose waistband of his after-school
sweats. Down through his sweat pants, down through his tighty-whities, and,
bliss. Target acquired. I had his little spike in my hand at no time. I
wrapped my hand around it and he melted into me.

I fiddled with it. He had just started writhing against me, and I was about
to reach my hand back around and down his sweats to finger his slit –
God, I wanted to fuck him – but then, damn it, we heard a car door
slam. He quickly jerked backwards, taking my hand out of his pants.

"Later," he whispered. "At your place, okay?"

His mom and sibs were back from the store. I heard them clomping in through
the garage door like a herd of elephants. He was already out the door and
down the stairs. Taking one more sniff of his diaper and the sweet and sour
finger that had been in his cheesy, fragrant ass crack, I wadded up the
diaper, threw it in the trash can, and straightened up.

Two dirty playmates with a big new secret, I followed him downstairs and
helped my sister fix dinner, and no amount of teasing from Davin and Darby
could wipe the secret smile off Drew's face tonight.

"I thought I'd take Drew to the comic book show this weekend," I told my
sister while we were washing dishes. The older kids had no interest at
all. Comics were a geek-out only my youngest nephew shared with me.

"Great," she said. "What time do you want him?"

"Why doesn't he just come to my place after school? Sleep overnight
Friday. The show opens right away on Saturday morning. First in line. You
know us geeks."

She rolled her eyes. "I don't know who's the bigger kid, you or him."

She hung the dish towel on the oven door and poured us a glass of wine.

"Fine with me," she said. "The other kids can use the break. He's been
really annoying them lately."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. They do their usual teasing, but now he teases back."

"Oh yeah?"

"He told Darby to go fuck herself yesterday?"

"No kidding."

"Yeah," she giggled. "I had to go all mom on his ass and tell him to watch
his language, but in my heart, I was applauding. She's had that coming for
12 years."

"Well, good for Drew," I grinned, proud of my budding little potty mouth.

"Just don't give him too much to drink," she said. "Unless you want to end
up with a bed full of piss in the morning."

Oh, that would be just fine with me, I wanted to tell her. He could piss
all over my bed and all over me, and I'd be the happiest man in the world.

But instead I said, "Pass the wine," and we sat in the kitchen, laughing
and catching up until my bladder was full.

I smiled.

The next round of draining Drew's drizzler would be happening this weekend.

= = = = = = = = = = = = = = =

TO BE CONTINUED