Squirting Stories: Squirters Anonymous

Nicole Doshi sits there fidgeting, cheeks burning. "Nicole," she says, voice barely above a whisper. She tells them about the night it happened—her girlfriend's face between her legs, one long pulse after another, hot liquid shooting out without warning. The girlfriend wiped her mouth, stood up, and left. No second chance. Avery Jane chuckles low, her turn. "Bus ride, paperback erotica, some douchebag potholes. I soaked through denim before I knew what was happening. Whole bus staring, driver yelling stop, me trying to disappear into the seat." She shrugs, smiling like she owns it now. Eliza Ibarra groans next. "Cousin's guest bed. One minute I'm scrolling, next I'm ruining his Egyptian cotton. Can't exactly send a replacement with a note." They laugh, not at her, with her. Hands on shoulders, quick squeezes, no judgment. Lauren Phillips watches them, eyes dark. "You don't need fixing," she says. "You need people who'll lap that shit up and ask for seconds." She stands, steps into the middle of the circle, slowly unbuttons her blouse. "I'm volunteering. Tonight. All of you. If you're ready, show me how much you can gush. Let's stop apologizing and start drowning each other." Nicole's knees part. Avery licks her lips. Eliza's breath catches. Lauren smiles like a wolf already tasting the flood.