Just go to the car and drive home

(AN: Heavy female on male watersports between the second and third separators.)

No need to dally. There's every reason in the world right now to get back to the car. For one it's getting pretty cold, for another it's quite a long walk from here on over to Tribeca, for third... Both combined. The walk went by like a breeze, the streetlights over in this part of town being reasonably bright. Besides, there's no reason to fear getting mugged or worse. All the way along to my vehicle, Dahlia has been her usually grabby self on some hoodlums. We even had to stop for a few minutes when she insisted on blowing some smoking punk. Not smoking hot, mind you; just one with a cigarette. She didn't even manage to make him cum before getting bored! Can't say I envy the guy.

I dig my keys out of my pocket and see to it that the one for the car is still there. I take a look at my mid-range hatchback, worrying if the driving experience will be soiled by my Release. Let's hope for the best. Dahlia begrudgingly gets on the back seat, as I insisted so that she won't get the temptation to give me road head. Yet. The situation already has too many unknown variables for me to feel comfortable with yet an another distraction. We'll see how this turns out. I climb in and jab the keys in, the starter purrs, and off we go.

The roads are unusually quiet. Even though it's nearing midnight, Manhattan is usually busier than this at the hour. Whatever, better for me. Dahlia is about to doze off, but stays awake enough to enjoy the warmth of the car's interior in contrast to the chill winter air. I ask her: "So where do you usually spend your nights?" She mumbles, loud enough to be heard over the engine: "I dunno, wherever. Someone's home, a supermarket, an office... Really, any warm place with a toilet and some food is good enough for me. It's not like anyone cares where I go." Like a stray animal, almost, I think to myself but am too considerate to say out loud. Maybe I'll be adapting to my Release in the same way as she did.

Having decided to go to my home (or, in truth, having accepted your suggestion to do so... And I just broke the fourth wall; oh snap!), I take Lincoln Tunnel and 95 as usual. About half an hour later, we're at my place, a nondescript apartment complex in south Newark. Managed to grab it for a cheap rent back when I first moved out of my dorm and it's never been too pleasant to live in, but it was what I had to deal with. I was lucky enough to get a home so close to work; I know very well some have to commute through multiple states.

When I stop park the car at my lot, Dahlia is startled awake: "Hunh- uh... Hmm... Are we there yet?" I chuckle and affirm: "Yes. We're there. Wakey wakey." Pulling my keys out and getting out, I open the side door to Dahlia's side and she shuffles out. Looking over the near-featureless block of concrete under the dim yellowish light, she admits: "Well, it's something." She really didn't need to say anything, but I'll take it. We head on inside and after a minute we're up the stairs and at my doorstep.

We step inside and I flick on the lights to discover, to my relief, that everything is as I've left it. After removing my shoes, taking off my jacket and throwing it over a chair, I try my best to be courteous: "Help yourself to the fridge, the toilet is over there, the bed is over..." -I pause to think about this. Normally I wouldn't invite a girl I've just met into the same bed as me, but with Dahlia, things feel very different indeed. For the Released, stuff like that just isn't a worry anymore. Continuing, I cough: "...Over there. I think you should take a shower first, though." She pretends to be offended: "You think I stink? You're not exactly old spice either, mister!" I smile and drag my fingers through her locks, making her yelp as they catch on to a tangle. She admits: "Okay, okay..! Geez." It's not like she has that much to take off, anyway. She already put her shoes away even before I did. Taking off my shirt, I'm left buck-naked, also letting her know: "I'll be right..." -and giving her butt a pat or two- "...Behind you." She smiles and enters the bathroom. Not too long after, I hear the water start running.

Now, I finally get a breather. I sit down at my dinner table and take a moment to look around the apartment. Strange being back here after what's happened today. Everything here looks physically the same to me as it always did, but... None of it worries me anymore. None of my possessions feel like a burden anymore. I cannot build a legacy, a family, a career, because anything I do is first ignored and then forgotten. There's no one to impress, no one to disappoint... Well, besides Phantom Window and my Released kin, but that's an another matter entirely. I don't necessarily ever need to go see them, although I'm more than ready to.

My peace of mind is broken when a photo of Chelsey catches my eye, and an another one of right next to it where we're kissing. Knowing exactly what I must do, I stand up and take both photographs into my hands after opening the balcony door, frames and all, walk to the platform, and chuck them as far away as I can one after the other. As satisfying as that was, it's probably less than sixty degrees out there, so I'd rather not literally freeze my ass off. Not knowing where the photos landed besides the general direction of the sound of breaking glass, I close the balcony door, satisfied. After that, time to wash the literal grime off me as well.

The small bathroom doesn't do much to hide my entering, so Dahlia goes: "Hey." When she sees me step inside.

Wait, holy fuck. Is that really her?

I couldn't tell at first when seeing hair like that. Hot damn. That and her now-uncovered legs... As sexy as her stockings were, seeing her fully exposed like this is something else altogether. Her skin is perfectly smooth, her thighs thick, her ass jiggling as she scrubs herself, a bit of chub on her belly, the stream of water falling on her wavering breasts... And that hair. I never realized how long it was because it was all jumbled up. Now, it's fallen down to cover her shoulders, dark to the point of nigh-ebony, straight and glistening wet. I can't take it anymore, I just have to climb in there and have all that for myself, and that's exactly what I do.

We've already spent far more time in here than what's acceptable by someone who wouldn't waste water and we haven't even finished making out yet. I don't just kiss her on the lips, hell no, I kiss her entire body almost scalp to toe, dragging my tongue over her, tasting her now much cleaner form. The flavor sends me wild, which gives me an idea for an offer I know she couldn't refuse: "Mmmh... Hey, Dahlia. Could you do something for me?" She moans: "Yeah, Lewis, fuckin' anything." I lay back in the shower and kneel down so that I'm against the wall, which has her confused at first. I think this is one of the more appropriate places to throw her a bone, considering I don't have to worry about cleaning up afterwards.

Now, I didn't hear her use the toilet, so hoping I'm in the right, I very casually order her: "Piss on my face."

Looks like that hit the spot. Her face goes through the motions, first shock, then surprise, then intense arousal. She seems like she's going insane over the effective delivery, panting while she struggles to close off the stream of water so she can see me get covered with her own. Careful there, you don't want to get too aroused, or so I think. Do women have trouble peeing when they're horny, like men do? Whatever, she seems able enough. With her legs in the typical spread half-crouch position I remember from the previous and first time I saw her do this, she very lightly bucks her hips forward right in front of my moistened face while groaning. She starts shaking, which alerts me to brace myself, so I close my eyes and wait for a few fateful seconds when the whole world seems to stop turning.

Then, warmth spreads at first over my nose and then my cheeks, the bitter smell entering my nasal cavity, taking me by a surprise. What has the fuck she been eating? I gag a little, but then right myself and pretend I'm taking it like a champ. She's moved the stream far enough down that I feel comfortable opening my eyes, which are immediately glued to her piercing stare. This is admittedly one of the most oddly intimate things I've ever done. Then, she bucks forward to soil the moment and whichever spots she missed. Brave enough for it now, I slowly open my mouth and stick my tongue out to take the full **** of her golden wetness, the taste destroying any sensible thoughts in my head that might have still been left there. It's like drinking a cocktail made with sulfur and overripe apple cider; almost vomit-inducing yet you gotta have more. Acting instinctively, I lunge forward and shove my mouth into her cunt, eating it out like just dessert. She recoils with a scream but doesn't even try to stop me while I swallow the intoxicating fluids directly from the source, my lips sealed around her pisshole to keep any more of it from being wasted. She positively screams from pleasure and- unsurprisingly- cums on the spot, grinding into the eager tongue that's now moved to being halfway inside her. After what certainly was a few minutes of some of the filthiest sex I'm sure anyone in this neighborhood has experienced, we separate and fall on the floor, one after the other. Dahlia lands very gently, thankfully, not ruining the afterglow with worries.

Even though we both clearly enjoyed that, I'm the first to gather himself enough to stand back up and turn the water on. I take the showerhead off its clutch and kneel next to the comatose Dahlia, spraying her with it. She chuckles, then laughs, then slowly steps back into this world by giving me a loving hug, despite that she's now getting a load of her own medicine. That's one experience off the bucket list. I use the showerhead to clean both of us back up and we finish washing shortly after.

Laying together in bed with Dahlia in my embrace, I go through the day's contents in my head. As I draw closer to sleep, I'm convinced this was all an amazing dream. An amazing, crazy dream. Any moment now I'll wake up here in this bed, but everything will be back to normal. Chelsey will be there instead of Dahlia and I'm going to go to work like usual, and nothing strange will happen. Surely, this Phantom Window business couldn't be for real. Could it?