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Echeque'

It was an acceptable afternoon. Outside was a pewter sky, but we were inside, dressed to the extent of bathrobes, stretched out on opposite sides of a chess board in front of the hearth, half-wondering who was going to get up to open the second bottle of gewürztraminer. In short, we were doing nothing, because we could.

She was tall, not my six feet, two inches but a solid five foot ten. Her hair was long, a lighter brown than my own, and curly, a cloud mass framing her pale face and lips and riveting gray eyes and easily covering her shoulders. Contemplating the next move as idly as I'd been wondering about the wine and other matters throughout the lazy afternoon, I almost felt jolted awake when she spoke.

"Your glass is empty," she noted in a quiet, even tone, reaching for the rose-tinted, transparent goblet beside me.

Coming back to reality enough to see her start to rise, it took me a discernible measure of time to register that she had merely gotten up on one knee and, my goblet in one hand, was loosening the bow holding her kimono together with the other. Glancing up to her face, I noticed a slight flush, as subtle as the goblet's tint in the flickering light from the fireplace. There was a slight smile, but the eyes were somehow guarded.

As she was opening her kimono, I quickly looked down from her face, not pondering the eyes at any length. Soon enough, the garment fell open, breaking like a tide on either side of her raised knee. First hooking one side with the base of my goblet to widen the opening, she then held my glass directly beneath her cunt. Automatically, my eyes swept back up toward her face, where answers are usually found, but stopped at her lower belly, just above her bush, where I could see muscles tauten and strain.

It was an effort, but I was finally able to look back at her face. Her eyes were narrowed, almost closed, and she was biting her lower lip a bit in concentration. My vision lept back down between her legs.

Eight hundred generations since the cave and thousands prior had shaped the mores that kept her bladder sealed against her will, and there were a few more seconds of silent strain evident in the muscles of her inner thighs and lower belly before I saw the first trickle slide down the inside of the glass.

The few spurts that followed, filling the goblet slightly less than halfway, captivated me. I wanted to feel the glass become heavier and become her temperature, and I wanted to hold it just to serve her at that moment as well. I also wanted to move it down an inch or two from where she had it pressed against her cunt so that I could see and hear her piss instead of getting a silent sight distorted by the goblet and the fireplace behind her, but I couldn't move at all.

That is, I couldn't successfully plan a move and have it take place. Movement was going on, specifically, the swelling of my cock and an unconscious leaning forward. By the time her stomach muscles relaxed and she removed the goblet from beneath her cunt, there was a thick drop of prejac forming at my tip.

Carefully placing the wineglass on the floor beside our rug, she reclined once more onto her side, catching my eye at the same time and holding it, her glance now somehow triumphant. There was a slight rasping sound as she slid the glass across the floor to me.

"There. Now your glass isn't empty anymore." This was all new, and I was all hesitation and confused desire as she continued in a coaxing, almost parental tone, "Drink it. It's good for you. Be a good boy and pick the glass up."

Logically, I know that cooling that close to the hearth was insignificant in the seconds that had elapsed, that the goblet was pretty close to 98.6 degrees, but it felt as if it was scalding the palm of my hand when I picked it up, my eyes still absolutely held by hers. As much as she'd been at war with herself while pushing her urine into the glass, I was in conflict over absorbing its heat now. It seemed like an intrusion, feeling her temperature that way.

At the same time, I knew where it was going, and the last thing I wanted to do at that moment was disobey her or trip up the moment's rhythm in any way. As I slowly raised the wineglass, she raised her right leg and reached down between her legs. Playing briefly in the droplets reflected in the firelight, she defined that rhythm precisely with a fingertip circling her clit.

I was part anxious lover, wanting to race closer and closer to a great, great climax, part tribal sacrifice urged toward the block by the drums, as I slowly raised the glass to my lips. Just before it actually touched them, I could smell it, hot, bittersalt, heavier, headier, more potent and more slippery than wine or water. I then tilted the glass enough for a wine taster's portion to enter my mouth and savored it.

As intuitive smell had informed, it was slippery. Rolling my tongue back and forth to coat my taste buds with her piss, I noticed how easily it slid against the roof of my mouth and inside of my lips. I knew that we would keep this act and use it in the future to make my tongue slippery for her clit and later, as we progressed, her asshole.

I moaned and pushed my hips forward. Across the chessboard, she responded, her mouth opening slightly, silently urging me to proceed. I upended the glass, filling my mouth quickly, before there was any hint of disobedience, hesitation or cooling from the body heat she'd squirted into it. It was a large mouthful, and I almost gulped as I swallowed the whole dose.

It sent a charge through my body like a magic potion; making me ready to do absolutely anything she wanted and making me want her to test me. With no physical contact whatsoever, there was already a gossamer strand of prejac slowly swinging and descending to the floor from the tip of my cock.

Her mouth then closed in another odd, secretive smile. She stopped rubbing her clit, reached forward, briefly rubbed the top of one of her bishops' hats in a motion quite similar to the one she'd been using on herself and moved the piece forward three diagonal spaces to the right. "Checkmate," she announced, and I had no choice but to agree.