It is ready for you and I and I want you to piss on me”I was in shock and laughed…I asked him “Well, what if I don’t have to go?” I politely...declined and he got my car from the valet…poor thing was pouting which I ignored and tried not to bust out laughing…As I related the story of my interesting “poetry to piss” coffee date to cocktoesin , he wasn’t laughing as I thought he might and asked me “Well, sounds like you missed out on an opportunity to piss on someone…are you opposed to doing that?”. .. as soon as I had legal possession. A pot hunter I am not.What I was truly interested in, though, wasn’t the lithics ... I was interested in the hole... (s). Looking out over the sun dappled surface of the pine-needled forest floor, I could see there were more depressions signaling more holes. A looker wouldn’t see them ... but an observer would notice right off; something was backfilled here. The blanks on the pine forest floor told me right off that the holes weren’t backfilled artifact. It wasan unusual sensation, but actually... he kinda liked it. As he moved, thethong rubbed and it made him feel... hot and kind of slutty. His boobsbegan to ache with pleasure again and he had to physically restrainhimself from touching them.Focusing on the task at hand he continued to grab clothing. He'd beenhoping there might be a pair of girls trousers, but no such luck. Insteadhe had to pull on a tiny plaid skirt that was blatantly too small. Hiswide hips caused it to ride up, nearly. Someone was bound to notice. Not, she reflected, that that was entirely bad. A certain part of her was excited by all of this. This tame, quite girl, dressed quite modestly was running around town with a fox tail, not just any fox tail she admitted, but one attached to an anal pug... Oh, the places this might go she smirked. Normally she kept her tail tucked away in a drawer somewhere, never to be seen, her dirty little secret kept for her own personal pleasure.Amid some heated fantasies of.