Betty Dodson with Carlin Ross

Better Orgasms. Better World.

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Bridget was easy. She was flimsy and sensitive. Like a bird with a pointy beak for lips. Her messy brown locks were pinned up like a large cloud of smoke hanging over her head, wisps of it falling over her feline face.

She felt particularly special in her Uncle Leo’s dress. Not one that he wore it himself. Bridget giggled at she looked down at it; its golden corset glistening in front of the fireplace. She couldn’t imagine her tall lanky, frowned-face uncle in such dainty attire. He was too much of a tight-lipped conservative to entertain such an unusual secret.

Bridget loving sipped on her brut, feeling that last drop of champagne hit her already swollen stomach. The pressure shot down to her bladder, which momentarily pained her before the overwhelming sensation struck her loins.

Bridget’s knees buckled lightly. She looked around the dimmed living room. Her Uncle Leo was leaning against the piano, deeply engaged in Marcel’s adventures, the business trips to the Swiss Alps or some other upper class luxury. Bridget couldn’t imagine a trip to the Swiss Alps. But, she was distracted. Her lips had puckered shut to forbid any leakage.

On the other side of the room were a couple of Uncle Leo’s other friends, men she hadn’t seen before. It didn’t matter. Bridget quickly finished the rest of her drink and sat it on the shelf above the fireplace. Then she turned around and discreetly strolled towards the doors. Just as she was about to exit the room, Uncle Leo stepped in front of her and closed the doors shut.

“Um, Leo,” Bridget said. “Will you please open the door?”

Uncle Leo shook his head. Bridget was still so confused by her uncle’s strange behavior, she had not seen the men predatorily surround her.

Bridget smiled, an effort that would hopefully break the uncomfortable tension. Her stomach was knotted and in need of release.

“What’s going on?” She asked.

Uncle Leo stood up straight and crossed his arms. “Is there something that you need?”

Bridget’s smile fluttered nervously. “I need to use the restroom,” she answered. “Do you mind?”

Uncle Leo approached her. “You don’t have to worry about that,” he said.

Suddenly, Marcel and Albert, another one of Leo’s friends, each grabbed ahold of Bridget’s arms. She turned around, horrified by this sudden attack.

Bridget tried to wrestle the men away from her but all she could do was superfluously flail her own body around, and it made her puss quiver. “Please,” she cried, her pink face blushing as the men dragged her near the fireplace. Then, they pushed her to the floor.

Uncle Leo knelt down beside his petite frantic niece and pulled up her skirt. Ignoring her pleas, he pulled her panties up far enough that the contours of her genitalia were outlined by her silky underwear.

“Give her some more to drink!” Paul held her legs apart. His own long scraggly black hair fell over his shoulders as he held her own.

Marcel, the youngest of the men, crawled over to the table and grabbed the bottle of brut on the bar cart. Then, he returned to Bridget.

“Sorry, darling.” He pinched her nose shut and sat patiently beside her head until Bridget’s pink face reddened. Bridget’s mouth finally exploded open. And immediately Marcel poured the champagne down Bridget’s throat. Since it was not his intention to overindulge, he didn’t let the liquor run too long. It was just enough to make her squirm.

And, like clockwork, sweet urine poured from Bridget’s quivering urethra.