All characters in the story engaging adult activities are represented to be over 18 years of age and all activities are represented to be consensual.
This is more fetish nastiness. Don't read this unless you're into fem-dom toilet slavery. Really. This story is my tribute to the author Callipygia, who I blame/credit for getting me into both the fetish and writing. They made something so twisted into something so very exotic. While they haven't written in close to ten years, you can probably find their stories archived. If you like stories like this, Calli's stories would be worth the effort to find. More than a few of their twists-of-phrase have been stolen from theirs for my own stories, so I may as well give credit where it's due. Thanks.
Clara and I lived practically next door to each other since I was brought home from the hospital three months after her. We knew each other our entire lives and were pretty much joined at the hip. Preschool, play groups, birthday parties; we were there together for each other for just about every moment. She was my blood, even if we weren't related. We were around each other so much that we called each other's parents 'Mom' and 'Dad'. My Dad said Clara was the twin daughter he never knew he wanted.
I remember Timmy Douglas pulling my blonde ponytail during recess once in second grade. My tears and shouts didn't make him let go; what did was Clara, all fists and elbows, jumping on him and pounding his head like it was the playground tetherball. Timmy got a trip to the nurse and Clara got a trip to the principal's office and a few days off from school. But the message was sent; mess with one of us, you've got both of us to answer to.
As we grew, we naturally diverged, but only a bit. We joked that she grew up and I grew out. Clara grew a few inches taller than my 5-foot-5, and a bit more slender. I wasn't fat, just curvy. Thicker hips and legs compared to her longer and a bit leaner frame. Neither of us ended up too much up top. We weren't flat chested, but there wasn't a lot of cleavage when we were in our swimsuits. Like her body, Clara's face was a bit longer than mine, giving her a more patrician look. I had cheeks and dimples.
The rumors that girls have it easier in relationships than boys are grossly overstated. Neither Clara nor I got considerable attention from the boys in our school. Maybe it was us? Maybe it was them? Whoever was or wasn't to blame, towards the end of high school, there may have been a lonely Friday night or two where I would have welcomed Timmy Douglas pulling my hair like he did years before, especially since he had grown into a really handsome jock. Not the king of the school, but royalty nonetheless. But he didn't seem to notice me. That was our problem. I know there were a few guys interested in us, but the guys that we were into just weren't into us.
See, neither of us were 'ladies'. We weren't dainty. Despite her somewhat regal look, Clara had long been kinda tomboyish and loved gross-out humor and there were many times we laughed ourselves hoarse over some unladylike take on classmates, teachers or just people we knew, male or female. Clara's grandad joked that we were "broads". That may have been sexist of him.
Kidding!
We loved the guy. He could call us broads, jezebels or hussies and we'd still have loved the guy.
We had that bond, but Clara was the practical one, where I was a bit dreamier. She could get to the heart of what was troubling me, since she knew me so well. Crush on someone? She'd get the dirt out of me. Stress about a zit? She'd have me soaking it in witch hazel and treating it before I'd realized it was a problem. And I liked to think I was the same for her but, really, she was better at it.
College came and I stayed in state but lived on campus. Clara wanted to study hotels and left for Las Vegas. She said what sold her on it was the chance to work in her field while still in school. Well, we were apart for the first time in our lives, but we stayed in touch from our dorm rooms over all forms of social media. Through chasing guys, stressing over classes, being chased by guys and all the new life away from home that we could live. It was like we were never apart except for the several hundred miles physically separating us.
Clara returned for Thanksgiving and Christmas breaks, and it was like we hadn't spent months apart. In reality, we hadn't. We compared notes on the few details we hadn't spoken of over Instagram and Tik-Tok. I told her of the liberated sexuality of hundreds of teens living together in the dorms and the drama that ensued. She countered with the unrefined hedonism of Vegas, and the liberated sexuality of thousands of adults in America's largest adult theme park. We were subtly impressed with each other's tales, but noted that neither of us had a guy to show for it.
That changed spring semester when I met Kenny. He was in one of my classes and was originally from a town about an hour away from the town where Clara and I were raised. He mustered up the courage to ask me to a film he had to screen for one of his liberal arts elective courses. He was sweet and shy and was just the kind of guy I was looking for.
Naturally, I shared all the details with my bestie. She congratulated me and said she was trying to find her guy, but guys in her school and around Vegas in general were a bit more cynical and jaded, preferring to sample a variety of women and the relative anonymity of one-night stands. They were always on the lookout for something more than the vanilla boy-meets-girl story. Besides, school was going well and her work program and school were really lining up. There wasn't all that much time for a steady guy. She congratulated me on finding one, and in typical Clara form, she made a rude joke about me being knocked up by the end of sophomore year.
In truth, Kenny and I were extra careful about sex. He wasn't my first (thank you, Mr. Nameless Frat Pledge Dude who came two seconds after jamming his little thing into me dry! I'll fondly remember that memory until my dying days!), but Kenny was much slower and more concerned about my enjoyment. Like I said, I wasn't a virgin, but I wasn't the most experienced broad out there,
haha
!
Still, I had learned enough in my limited experience and from online porn that Kenny had a big ol' dick.
It went unsaid that we were both terrified of an unwanted pregnancy, so Kenny always wrapped up with condoms, while I had gotten my birth control prescription. Kenny was very gentle and took his time easing into me, reading my face for signs of hurting me or going too fast. In time, we learned to pleasure each other, and, while I wasn't a big fan of giving oral sex, Kenny didn't seem to mind going down on me.
That summer, Clara stayed in Vegas, coming back for a few weeks right at the end of July. It was so hot in Vegas during that time that bookings were way down, so she said she didn't need to stay in her work study program.
Seeing her in person after almost seven months, I must admit I noticed a few changes. She looked thinner, like in her face and arms. She wore mostly baggy clothes around, but she said she had found an exercise program she really liked and had made it a real pastime. Another change was a very flash manicure and pedicure. This was different since neither was the kind of thing Clara had been into before. She was always a bit less "girly" than that, so seeing her pad around the pool at my place or in her folks' place with such a refined look was a bit different. Finally, she
seemed
a bit different. Don't get me wrong; it was still Clara. She'd still lift her leg and fart in the passenger seat of my car and waft it over at me (
Hello? Gross!
). Same old Clara. But there was a different look in her eye. More mature? Something. I suppose she'd say the same about me. We'd both had life-changing experiences since going away to school, and we simply weren't the same people any more. But she was still my Clara.
Some old high school friends of mine and Clara's were renting a cottage at the lake during that time, and I convinced Kenny to come join us. I didn't have to work too hard, as it had been a few weeks since we had last seen each other, and there were few things more motivated than a young man in need of some sex. And I was certainly hot for him.
The night before we were to drive up to the cabin, Kenny arrived and he finally got to meet Clara. I was so worried they wouldn't get along. I warned Clara to be nice.
"I'm always
nice
," she giggled, rolling her eyes. Usually, that meant she was going to make some trouble.
