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God and the Cum Dump

By: Serafina1210



Most of my stories for Literotica have been BDSM romances with plenty of bondage and flogging and true love winning out in the end. Sometimes I make my characters piss on each other - but you can't get away with a lot of that in BDSM. So I thought I'd wander over here to Fetish and let the squickiness out for a comic romp. In addition to straight sex, anal sex, lesbian sex, and a couple of group scenes, this novelette features lots of cum eating, piss drinking, puking, a tiny dab of scat - oh yes, and some cracked theology. If such things don't float your boat, feel free to move along to another story. But if they do, then welcome! I hope you enjoy getting acquainted with Brenda, who, as our story opens, is twenty-six years old, God-fearing, and more or less respectable.

*****

1. I Lose

Me and Lester were playing Crazy Eights on the sofa and half watching The Magnificent Seven. I liked playing Crazy Eights with Lester. Well, I hated the card game itself, actually. It's a kid's game and really boring for grownups to play. What I liked about it was that I always lost.

Losing games turned me on - there was something about Lester's contempt, the flush of humiliation, the slightly sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. That night, for a bonus, I was losing at life, too. Just a few hours ago I'd been fired from my job as a dental assistant. Doctor Rosenberg had waited till five to let me know, making sure he got his money's worth right up till the end.

"You're a menace," he'd said. "I've never had such an incompetent assistant."

I thought it was harsh to call me incompetent. Those instruments look an awful lot alike, and anybody could have mixed up those little bottles.

Well, I was glad I still had Lester, even though he wasn't an exciting lover, and he spent a lot of his time pissed off because life had dealt him the kind of hand that gets you a crappy job stocking shelves down at the Target and a girlfriend like me. Not a head turner, not even cute, but a girl with mussy, mouse-colored hair and features sort of coarse - lips a bit thick, brow heavy, nose blunt, teeth big, hips too wide - and if I had to have wide hips, why couldn't I at least have big boobs, too? Mine were little, with below-average nips that didn't perk up all that much when I got excited.

Which I didn't very often when I was with Lester.

But if Lester wasn't a turn on, being kind of fat and not all that well endowed, if you know what I mean, and not smart or funny or interesting or successful, at least there was losing at Crazy Eights.

Losing that stupid game turned me on just enough that if Lester wanted sex after we'd played, I could give it to him and make it all right for him, more or less.

Lester was more pissed off than usual that night, even though he was winning game after game and The Magnificent Seven was one of his favorite movies. Maybe he didn't like it that my grievances were more grievous than his for a change, or maybe it was knowing I wouldn't be picking up as many checks as I used to down at the Golden Corral. Maybe he was having hassles at work. Whatever. I'd seen him pissed off plenty before, and I wasn't going to worry about it.

After a few games he said, "Why don't we play for stakes for once. Fucking put something on the table."

"What stakes, Les?" I asked. There was no way he was getting any of my money - I didn't have any to spare.

"If I win, I get to fuck you however I want. Same goes for you, if you win."

It was a relief he didn't want to play for money, but I said, "I don't know, Les." I was scared of anal. I'd never done it, and I just wasn't ready to go there tonight - not after the stressful day I'd had.

He rolled his eyes and said, "I know, no ass-fucking. Jesus."

"Well, okay, I guess," I said. Oral sex didn't bother me - I'd sometimes done it to help Lester get it up after he'd had a few beers - and vaginal sex is, well, vaginal sex. What other kind of sex was there, besides anal, oral and vaginal? I didn't think he was going to do anything scary or even interesting. He wasn't imaginative when it came to sex or anything else.

We played the game one more time, and of course I lost, and as I was sliding the cards back in the box I said, "What do you want me to do?"

"The deal was I do it to you," said Lester, standing. "You get to do fuck-all, like you always do."

That stung, but I got a little twinge down below, the way I always did when he insulted me. Actually, losing my job and all those games had left me pretty wound up.

Lester undid his pants, let them drop, and stepped out of them. He lowered his underwear. He was already starting to get hard, dick sprouting from rolls of fat, and he took himself in his hand and jerked off.

"Slide forward," he said.

Okay, then, oral. I wondered why he was making such a big deal out of oral sex. I slid to the edge of the sofa.

"I've wanted to do this for a long time," he said.

"What?" I said. "Jerk off in front of me?"

"What's this, wit?" he said. "Open your fucking mouth." He put one pudgy hand behind my head and yanked me towards him.

I opened my mouth and he rammed into me, thrusting while he pulled my head, so deep I instantly lost it, and the beer and potato chips I'd had that evening came boiling up inside me and gushed out around his cock. Then he let me go.

I put my head down between my legs and added to the puddle I'd just made on the floor. I was so shocked I didn't know whether to get mad or cry or what. When I recovered a little I sat up and said, "Jesus, Les . . ."

"You're so fucking boring, Brenda," he said as he grabbed my head and rammed into me again. This time he didn't let go when my vomit soaked his pubic hair and cascaded over his balls, but just held on while I retched and retched, struggling but not strong enough to pull away.

He said, "I am so fucking bored, and so fucking tired of you," thrusting still harder.

I was thinking, well, it's not like you're such a prize yourself, but I couldn't say it with my mouth and throat full of cock and vomit.

He thrust with every phrase. "Talking to you is boring. Fucking you is boring. Your cooking is boring. Your music collection sucks."

My stomach was empty, just dry heaves now - my body was convulsing with them. But unexpectedly, with every heave, my stomach was sending out enormous waves of pleasure that washed through my nipples up into my neck, into my cheeks, and down through my gut to my clit and thighs.

Fucking my face, he said, "I am so tired of hearing about your fucking church. And I so don't care about your fucking job."

I'd begun to retch less. I was discovering I didn't absolutely have to throw up just because there was a cock deep in my throat. I recognized that wet feeling down below, too. I was turned on - way turned on. I was alive - the dry heaves, the bolts of pleasure shooting straight into my nips and clit, fuck, it all felt wonderful.

He said, "This is like the only thing I've ever done with you that's not boring. THIS - "

He thrust so hard here that my stomach gave another lurch, and I'd swear my pussy squirted.

" - is your goodbye fuck, Brenda. I'm fucking done with you."

Now he thrust and I retched with every word, making a weird harmony.

"You're - ugly - and - stupid - and - boring - and - we're - done!"

He held me tight against him, and his cum gushed into my throat - I felt the spurts deep inside, hot, thick, and nasty. He took a giant step back and to the left, just dodging the cum and bile I projectile vomited at him.

I put my head between my legs again and waited for my stomach to calm down. Lester scooped up his pants, underwear, and shoes, said, "Fuck you, Brenda," and went off to the bathroom.

I sat there, trying to get myself together enough to figure out how I felt about all this. I'd gotten as far as fuck him, he's boring too, when he came back into the living room, picked up the remains of the six-pack he'd brought over, said, "It suits you, being covered with puke," and headed for the door.

I managed to say, "Fuck you too, Lester," before he let himself out of my apartment and out of my life. How about that for a sharp comeback?

I was supposed to feel devastated, but I didn't. The fact is, I was more turned on than I'd ever been before. If losing turned me on, well, here was losing big time. I hadn't just lost my job and a few card games, but Lester had dumped me, and he'd done it spitefully, calling me boring, ugly, and stupid and fucking me in the most degrading possible way. I should have felt horrible, but I felt great.

My pussy was running like a faucet, and it was like my whole body was buzzing with energy. If I didn't get relief soon, I was going to explode.

I went to the bedroom. The bed was mussed, but I thought I'd better not lie on it, being drenched in puke. I got my favorite hairbrush from my dresser, laid on the floor, and masturbated as slow as I could, smelling the vomit all over me, remembering all that thick goo pumping into my throat, thinking about how it felt, that cock deep inside me, the gagging and puking, and Lester saying those awful things - but I couldn't draw it out. I came in probably less than a minute - a whole new kind of orgasm, hard and sharp.

I was still horny. I wanted a drink too, but Lester had taken the beer. Well, I was a grownup; I knew where to get alcohol. I went to the bathroom, stripped, and showered. I brushed my teeth, went back to my bedroom, and put on clean clothes - panties, a simple blue dress, flats. I brushed my hair, pulled it back, and fastened it with a barrette.

2. Toilet Blowjob

I headed out for Mickey's Tap, just a half mile down the street. It wasn't the kind of place you go to relieve your horniness, but it was a pretty good place to get a drink. Guys would mostly leave you alone, or at least they'd mostly leave me alone, and if they didn't, you could just sort of lift your eyebrows at Tony the bartender, who was a not-quite friend of mine, and he'd take care of the problem, usually without pissing anybody off.

I sat at the bar, ordered a Bud Light, and looked around the room. It was a slow night, a Thursday. There weren't many people here and they were all guys: two sitting a couple of stools apart at the bar, one lounging at a table watching something on TV with a cowboy booted foot up on another chair, and three talking together at a table. On any other night they'd just look like guys, but tonight they looked like guys with cocks, each of them capable of shooting a hot viscous load down my throat. My panties were damp. I wanted to stop thinking this way, but I couldn't.

I tried to sort out what, exactly, had made me so horny. Was it getting fired, the cock in my throat, the violence of the face-fuck, the puking, the cum, the insults, the getting dumped, or all of the above? And if I wanted to get this turned on again (and I did - it was totally amazing!) would I have to have all those things going on? I hoped not - it's not practical to get fired and dumped every time you want a decent orgasm, if only because you've got to find a job and a boyfriend first. These thoughts kept me busy till my second beer was gone.

I glanced down the bar at the guy sipping his beer about three stools away. He wasn't anything special, maybe about forty, bulky, wearing jeans and a blue shirt, overdue for a shave. But he looked strong, maybe a construction worker, and he had a cock - I couldn't keep the image out of my mind of him thrusting into my mouth, the cum spurting, splashing, choking me . . .

He looked around, straight into my eyes. Oh shit, I thought. I do not need this. And yeah, he must have caught that something in the way I was looking at him, because he hoisted himself off his seat, lumbered over to me, and said, "Your glass is about empty. Can I get you another?"

Tony was there quick as a flash, raising his eyebrows in a question: Want me to get rid of him? But I said to the guy, "Thanks," and gave Tony a reassuring smile.

Tony went off to get me my exotic brew, and the guy said, "I'm Dave."

I said, "You've got a wedding ring, Dave."

He glanced at his hand. It wasn't a wedding ring, but a band of light skin where the ring had been.

He chuckled nervously and said, "I guess I must have forgot to put it on."

I said, "You looking for conversation, Dave, or a bit on the side?"

He started to get up, saying, "Shit, you try to be friendly . . ."

I laid a hand on his arm and said, "Hey, sit down, Dave. It's okay. I just want to make sure we understand each other. I've had a hard day, and I'm not in the mood for bullshit."

Tony came with my beer, and Dave waited for him to set it down and move off.

He glanced at me cautiously. "Okay, Let's start with some conversation," he said.

"Wrong answer, Dave," I said. "My conversations today have not gone well, and I don't want any more of them. On the other hand, I haven't been able to think about anything but blowjobs for like the last two hours. Do you like blowjobs?"

He looked at me like he hadn't noticed me before. In about five seconds I'd gone from almost invisible to fascinating. "Yeah," he said.

"Well," I said. "I'm going to excuse myself and go to the ladies', because this beer you bought me is like my third. Why don't you wait like three minutes and then come on back? We're not going to be interrupted," I added, gesturing towards the room, where all the customers were still men. "I'll suck you off, and then you can go on with your beer-drinking without all the hassle of making conversation with a woman you don't know or give a fuck about. Sound okay?"

"Okay," he said, looking a little stunned. It wasn't hard to guess that this wasn't an everyday event in his life.

"I'm serious here, Dave," I said. "No bullshit. Don't be late."

I slipped off the stool and went back to the ladies', where I peed, wiped, and washed. At the exact moment when the electric dryer was shutting itself off, the door opened and Dave edged in, looking like he expected a SWAT team to come busting out of the stalls.

"Like I said, Dave, we've got the place to ourselves," I said.

He relaxed a little and said, "What's your name?"

"That doesn't matter, does it, now? Just like it doesn't matter that your name's not Dave. Because all I am is this girl that sucks off random men in bars - you don't put that kind of girl in your contact list."

I'd unbuckled his belt and was working on the catch that held his pants closed. Damn, those two beers felt good inside me. I felt like I could take on the whole town, or at least all the men in it. He was back to looking stunned.

I said, "You should thank your lucky stars that STDs are hard to transmit orally, 'cause there's no telling where a girl like me has been."

By now I'd managed to unzip his zipper and was on my knees in front of him, pulling his pants down. His cock made a satisfying bulge in his underwear.

I said, "Don't be gentle, Dave. I'm the kind of girl you just ram it into." I wrenched down his underwear and took his cock in my hand - it was already nice and hard - and jerked him off a few times. Then I leaned forward and let him slide into my mouth.

There was a moment of shock as the warmth of his flesh on my lips brought home to me the reality of what I was doing - I'd been a nice girl just minutes ago, upright and God-fearing, and now I was sucking off this total stranger in the toilet at Mickey's Tap.

And then the amazingness of it hit me right afterwards. I'd picked up this guy! I didn't know who the fuck he was! I was sucking him off! I'd never picked up a guy before! I'd never sucked a stranger's cock! It was a nice one, too - way better than Lester's! This was great!

I pushed into him, trying to take him deep, but he backed away from me a little. Annoyed, I looked up at him and let his cock fall out of my mouth. I said, "Are you being a gentleman, Dave? Afraid of making me gag?"

"I . . ."

"Don't be a gentleman, Dave," I said. "Take my head in your hands and fuck my face."

He put his hands on either side of my head and tentatively, almost tenderly, pushed his cock into my mouth - deep and then deeper, breathing hard with excitement. I told myself I wasn't going to gag, wasn't going to throw up, and his cock slid right past the place that Lester had hit to make me puke - and there he was, all the way in with his pubic hair tickling my lips and nose, and I felt like Wonder Woman, totally in control of this guy.

Only I wasn't. Or the way I was controlling him was by making him take me over, if that makes any sense. He was pushing harder and faster now, holding my head in place with confident hands. He wasn't thrusting as hard as Lester had done, not yet, but he was getting into the joy of the moment, doing this thing that his wife would never in a million years let him do, and he was starting to forget I was there. I mean, I was there as a hole for him to put his dick in, but not a thinking, feeling person that he was supposed to care about.

His hands were sliding around to the back of my head so he could pull me harder, and he was thrusting deeper and faster, grunting with the effort, his body moving reflexively, and his mind was off in space somewhere while his body moved, till finally he groaned and spasmed and filled my mouth and throat with cum. I spluttered and choked because he was shooting way in the back of my mouth, but I managed not to puke.

He took a step back and looked at me, and I swallowed his cum. I'd never let Lester come in my mouth before tonight, and I don't think you could count what I'd done with his cum tonight as swallowing - so this was a first. The effect wasn't subtle. It had a nasty taste and consistency, but the nastiness of it, its ooziness, the way it gushed out of the end of this anonymous cock into the wrong hole, making my mouth a cunt - it was like this was what I'd secretly longed for my whole life, and I felt it in every bit of me that could feel arousal - clit, nips, toes, armpits, asshole, belly button. I felt it in places I'd never known could get turned on: every hair on my head seemed to have a tiny fire burning at the base of it.

I gazed into his eyes and licked my lips. I must have looked like I wanted to eat him alive.

"Fuck," he said, and took another step back. Keeping an eye on me like I was a rattlesnake, he bent down, fumbled for his pants, and pulled them up. He backed towards the door as he fastened the fastener, zipped the zipper, and buckled his belt. He checked himself in the mirror for just a second before he hit the door, and then he was gone.

Yeah, I felt rotten, him looking at me like I had Ebola or something. But you know what else I felt? After like twenty-six years of being below average at every fucking thing I'd tried - schoolwork, sports, sex, work, relationships, cooking, personal grooming, you name it - I'd found one thing I was really great at. I knew it in my bones: it was Olympic-class cocksucking I'd just done, and old Dave there, or whatever his name was, would probably go the whole rest of his life without ever again getting as fine a blowjob as what I'd given him.

I went to the mirror, straightened my dress, considered rinsing my mouth with water from the sink, and decided against it. When I got back to the bar, Dave had moved back to his stool, and the other guy at the bar was leaning over the two stools that separated them, talking to him. They both fell silent as I went by. Dave didn't look at me, but the other guy did.


God and the Cum Dump



I went to my stool, sat, and took a sip of the beer Dave had bought me.

"Long bathroom trip, Brenda," said Tony.

"Something I ate," I said.

He gave me a stern look and went off to polish glasses.

3. Sticky Picnic

The guy that had been talking to Dave approached me. He looked rich, like some kind of businessman, about fifty with a white shirt, jeans, and polished Oxfords - an odd combination.

Before he could say anything, I said, "Don't tell me, let me guess. Somebody said I was giving out free blowjobs, and you want to know if you can have one too."

"Well, I was hoping to make a smoother approach, you know. I don't want to objectify you."

"What do you mean, objectify?"

"Treat you in a degrading way, so you feel like an object - less than human."

I stared at him in astonishment. "That's it!" I said. "That's exactly it! My boss objectified me when he fucking fired me today, and my boyfriend objectified me when he dumped me tonight, and I was so juiced by all that objectifying that I wanted to suck every cock in this place."

He looked uncomfortable, the way you get when strangers tell you more than you want to know about their troubles. "I'm sorry about your job and your boyfriend," he said.

"Don't be," I said. "My boss was an asshole, and my boyfriend was a fat jerk and a dumbass. And the very last thing my boyfriend did before he walked out was help me figure out that I love being objectified. God, I can't believe there's a word for that. I really love that word."

"Look," said the guy. "Do you mind if I sit?"

"Feel free," I said. I was warming towards him more every second.

"So about the blowjobs," the man said. "You're not actually planning to blow every man in here, are you?"

"I don't think I can get away with it," I said sadly. "Tony would throw me out. He's already half caught on to what I did with Dave."

"Dave?"

"The guy you were just talking to. I don't think that's his real name."

"I think you're right about that," he said. "But if you could do it, would you?"

I looked at him. "Do you think I can?"

"Not in the ladies' room. You could do it outside. There's a picnic area next to the parking lot that's pretty well hidden from the road. Mind, I'm not saying you should do it, just that you could. If that's your inclination."

I took a sip of my beer and thought about it. The fact is, getting face-fucked by Dave hadn't cooled me off even a little: if anything, it had heated me up more. I glanced around the room. The same six guys were still here - seven if you counted Tony. What would it feel like to suck them all off? I felt way better after sucking off Dave than I had before: would I feel better with every load of cum, or would there be a point where the effect got reversed and I started to feel worse instead? Where would the turning point be, and what would be the net effect?

I started to feel a little dizzy, not being used to this much thinking, especially after two and a half beers. If I did this I'd be a slut, no question, and in this town, everybody would know it within forty-eight hours. But didn't Jesus love and forgive sluts? I pictured myself washing his feet with my tears, and my pussy throbbed, and then I couldn't think about anything but how that warm jism felt splashing into my mouth and oozing down my throat.

"I still want to suck every cock in here," I said.

The guy smiled a huge smile and said, "My name's Randy. That's my actual name, and I'm delighted to meet you."

He held out his hand, and I shook it and said, "Brenda."

Randy said, "Okay, Brenda. I'll get, um, Dave to escort you outside and keep you company while I organize things. I'll be surprised if you don't get exactly what you want."

Five minutes later I was sitting at a picnic table with Dave, who was looking awkward. I was nervous and excited, and the fact that Dave couldn't think of a single thing to say to me, even though we'd been pretty intimate just minutes ago, only added to the coolness of it all.

The guy with the cowboy boots wandered out to the picnic area and sat at a table far from us. The three guys that had been drinking together - I thought maybe they were auto mechanics - joined him a couple minutes later. Finally Randy came out with Tony.

Randy stood near me and said, "Gather round, men."

They all stood and moved towards us. They shifted nervously, hands in their pockets.

Randy said, "This is Brenda. She's had kind of a hard day, and she says what she needs to make her feel better is to eat seven loads of cum. Can we help her out?"

The guys muttered "Yeah," "Sure," "You bet," and other affirmatives.

Randy turned to me and said, "This could get messy, Brenda. Maybe you'd like to do something to protect that nice dress."

I pulled off my dress, glad they couldn't see me blush in the dim light. I hesitated a few seconds: there was no need to take off my panties, but wouldn't being pantiless enhance the experience for everybody? I pushed them down.

I looked around. I liked the way they were staring at me, but they looked like they didn't know how to start. I moved away from the table I'd been sitting at and got on my knees in the grass.

"Okay," I said. "Who's gonna fuck my face first?"

Of course it was Randy that stepped out of his pants and came over to me, pulling his cock out of his underwear. I liked him, and I liked his cock. I took it deep right away, wanting to rev up the other guys.

And it worked! Soon they were crowded around me, and I was working my way around the circle, giving each guy about thirty seconds so they'd all get a turn every few minutes.

I'd been around the circle a couple of times when Randy decided to dial things up. He seized my head and fucked my throat hard. Soon they were all doing it, and it was making them bold. Hands squeezed my tits, which somehow were way more sensitive than they'd ever been before, fingers slipped into my wet cunt, rubbed hard against my clit, making me wriggle and whine, and a hand even explored my crack, pressing briefly against my anus.

And then someone said, "Let's fuck this bitch," and threw me down on the ground, nearly knocking the wind out of me. I was on my back, and one of the mechanics was on his knees above my head, thrusting straight down into my mouth, while below, someone else was prying my legs apart and pushing into my cunt.

My first impulse was to struggle because this wasn't what I'd signed on for - but suddenly it came to me that the feeling of being filled above and below was amazing, and sensation was arcing back and forth between my tongue and clit, burning down everything in between. I was flooding on both ends, cunt making sucking noises as a man fucked me below, and my mouth was overflowing with drool as another fucked me above.

"Nngh," I said, and squirmed and thrust under them. They took turns for a while, all the while saying things like, "How 'bout this skank?" and "Hey, gimme a piece of that twat!" and "Fuck that bitch, Charley!" Not talking to me at all, but just to each other.

Randy pulled out of my mouth and hauled me to my feet, and I found myself staring at Dave's backside, big and hairy, and he was reaching around behind him and pulling his ass cheeks apart: in the dim light I could just see his asshole, puckered and hairy. 

I barely had time to think Oh, shit! before Randy seized me by the back of my neck and shoved my face into that crack, saying, "Eat that ass, Brenda."

Well, why not? I thought, as long as my face was in his crack anyway. It was kind of sweaty in there, humid but not filthy, and when I put my tongue out and gave that asshole a lick it tasted, well, not like anything much, really, but like excitement and naughtiness, if you can taste those things.

It was a little like kissing a man with a beard, and yeah, I loved eating this asshole. I said "Mmmm" and my mouth watered as I slurped and sucked, and all the others got turned on and had to have their asses eaten too. They bent way over, and those that could reach their ankles held on that way while the fat ones held onto a picnic table and spread their legs, and while I serviced their butts they took turns fucking me doggie style.

I was on my fourth asshole, thinking it couldn't get any better than this, when headlights swept over us - another car pulling into the lot. I hoped vaguely it wasn't the cops, but I heard Tony say, "Hey, doc! C'mon over and get rimmed!"

A few seconds later, Doctor Rosenberg's voice said, "Brenda?"

I looked up from the crack my face was planted in, and sure enough, it was him. "Hi, Doctor Rosenberg!" I squeaked as the blood rushed into my face. Then it came to me that he wasn't my boss and I didn't have to give a fuck about what he thought. And the man had a cock, like other men, even if he was a shithead, and I turned to him and fumbled with his belt and zipper.

I was clumsy with excitement, but he took over for me, and soon he was naked and bent over, jerking himself off while I tongued his asshole and Randy plowed me behind.

So now there were eight of them, and when I'd rimmed them all I was back to getting face-fucked - and this was hard work, but I was totally in my element for once in my mediocre life, confident, knowing just what to do, and thinking, I'm made for this. Fuck, I'm really good at this!

Tony was the first to come, jerking off while I held the head of his cock in my mouth. He filled me up, and I held his cum on my tongue and turned my head this way and that so they could all see before I swallowed it. After that they all just stepped up to my mouth whenever they were ready. Some plunged into my throat and came deep inside me, and some held their cocks just outside my parted lips so they could watch the cum jet into me.

When it was Randy's turn he stood a foot away, and his cum splattered all over my nose, cheeks, and chin. Greedy, I pushed it into my mouth with a finger. Dave was next, and even though he'd come less than an hour before, his load, which he shot deep inside me, was pretty ample, and I was pleased. And finally Doctor Rosenberg aimed his cock right at the middle of my face and let fly. I blinked reflexively but then forced myself to keep my eyes open so I could watch the cum shoot out of his slit - and he was amazing, the doc, spurting eight or nine times, huge gushes, covering my whole face with his goo before he was spent.

None of the guys said a thing to me. I scooped globs of Doctor Rosenberg's cum into my mouth with a finger while I watched them pull on their pants and wander into the bar, back to their beers, their conversations, and their lonely thoughts. Last of all, Doctor Rosenberg hesitated like he had something to say, but then turned and almost sprinted into the bar.

Only Randy stayed behind.

"What do you think, Brenda?" he asked. "Was it what you wanted?"

"Yeah," I said. "I was just a hole for them, wasn't I? Do you mind if I masturbate while we talk?"

"Not at all," he said, and watched as I lay on one of the picnic tables and stroked myself. I'd been too busy to come, but all that penetration and cum-swallowing had left me incredibly wound up.

"I'd definitely say they objectified you," he said.

"What about you?" I asked. "The rest of them have all gone back inside, but here you are talking to me. Why is that? Aren't I just a hole to you?"

"You know what you are?" he said. "You're a cum dump. Have you ever heard that before?"

"No," I said. "Are you looking at my cunt?" I liked the sound of "cum dump."

"There's a shadow," he said. He put a hand on my thigh - his touch felt so good! - and moved my leg. "That's better. Ah! Exquisite snatch!"

"Thanks," I said. "I . . ."

But I couldn't go on right away. Knowing he was looking at my cunt had sent like a firebolt of sensation through me. Randy watched as my back arched, my pelvis convulsed, and I came, stifling my cries with the back of my hand.

I sat up with my legs crossed. He went on, "I guess I don't have to tell you what a cum dump is. The term is self-explanatory. Thing is, those guys don't appreciate how rare and wonderful a genuine cum dump is. I do. So when you ask if you're just a hole to me, yeah, you are just a hole. A terrific, wonderful hole!"

"Thanks," I said, genuinely pleased by what he was saying.

"Do you think we could stay in touch?" he asked. "I'm not trying to make myself your boyfriend - but I'd like to use you as a cum dump now and then, and I've got some friends who're always looking for a place to dump their cum too. Feel free to tell me to fuck off if you decide tonight was just a one-time thing and you're not a cum dump after all. But I've got a feeling you are."

"Thanks, Randy," I said. "I think you're probably right about me. But I'd better sleep on it. This time yesterday I was a dull respectable girl, and now I've just gotten myself gangbanged and swallowed eight loads of cum - nine if you count Dave twice. It's a lot to take in."

Randy fished a card out of his pants pocket and handed it to me. "Call me tomorrow," he said, "if you decide you're still a cum dump."

He went back into the bar, and I sat staring at his card for about five minutes before I got up, put on my clothing, and drove home, where I fell into bed, masturbated one more time with my trusty hairbrush, and slept soundly till morning.

4. Randy's Fluids

My drinking hadn't been extreme the night before, but I'd had more beer than I was used to, and I was hung over. In the cold morning light, what I'd done the night before seemed vile and disgusting. I was a small-town working-class girl, brought up to be pious and conservative. I went to church and believed in God, and I'd just done this unthinkable thing. I tried to banish the vivid memories, but I couldn't. Again I felt the cum jetting into my throat.

I ran to the bathroom and threw up in the toilet. I rinsed my mouth and took two Advils, then threw them up. I decided I'd forget Advil and eating for a while, but just go ahead and feel horrible. I sat on the floor next to the toilet, head throbbing, till I'd managed to go about a half hour without throwing up, then rinsed my mouth, took more Advil, and went back to bed.

I woke up a little after one ravenously hungry. My headache was gone. I went to the kitchen, made a sandwich, poured some apple juice, and took stock while I ate. I had no job, no savings, and no boyfriend. Word of what I'd done would already be spreading, and soon enough my reputation would be shit. People would snub me at church, my friends, the few I had, would start screening my calls, and random men would proposition me on the street.

I was completely fucked. It wasn't fair. Why was I so avid for cum? Where had this appetite of mine come from, and why was it driving me so irresistibly? The Reverend Edwards said that all things came from God. If He was real, as I'd been taught all my life, surely my love of cum had come from Him. God, in His wisdom, had made me a cum dump.

Why had He done it? Maybe it was a test, like the way He tested Abraham's faith. Maybe He wanted to see whether I'd be true to the nature He'd given me even though it would make me a social outcast.

Well, I would do God's will, be true to my nature, and bear the stigma. And it wasn't so bad, really. I'd lost a lot - my job, my boyfriend, and my reputation. But I had assets, too. I knew how to give a world-class blowjob, I was extremely horny again, and I had Randy's card.

I called his number, and he answered on the second ring.

"This is Brenda," I said. "I'm still a cum dump."

"I'm glad to hear it," he said. "Have you got some free time today?"

"I'm free as far as the eye can see," I said. "Jobless, remember?"

"Sorry, right," he said. "I'm at work right now, but I can get away in, let's see, a half hour. Can I pick you up?"

"Okay," I said, and told him my address.

"I'll be by in about forty-five minutes," he said.

I washed and put on some makeup. I wanted to wear something nice, but I didn't have much. I settled for a comfortable dress with a flowered pattern. It looked kind of frumpy, but then I was a frump, so it suited me.

It didn't suit Randy, though. He arrived exactly on time, and when I answered the door he looked at me and said, "Is that all you've got to wear?"

He was neatly dressed in an expensive-looking suit, and I was a ragbag in comparison. "I haven't got a big wardrobe," I said. "It's mostly dental assistant uniforms."

"Let's go shopping," he said. "You need some slutwear."

I liked the idea, but had no idea where to go. And . . .

"I'm broke. This is not a good day for clothes shopping."

"This whole day is my treat," he said. "I'd like to do unspeakably filthy things with you later, and it'll be more fun if you're appropriately dressed."

There weren't all that many places in our town where you could get the right clothing. A Victoria's Secret in the mall, one tiny sex shop where you could get a few things Victoria's Secret considered too risqué - and otherwise you just had to improvise. But after a couple hours I had acquired a black lacy bra and matching crotchless panties, a clingy dress with a black-and-white pattern that was both decent and suggestive and somehow managed to look good on my body, a black dress so short that it was no trick at all to spot my panties underneath, and black shoes with heels - not stilettos, which made me wobble. We ended the afternoon at a hairdresser's, where a girl cut my hair to just below my ears in a sort of rounded style that miraculously made my face look less heavy and thick. Then another girl took me over, plucked my eyebrows, and made me up.

When I looked in a mirror, wearing my new face, hairstyle, and clingy black-and-white dress, I thought I actually looked good.

"Jesus," I said.

"You're a pretty girl," said Randy. "When that fact sinks in, you'll be even prettier, because a good attitude is a major part of beauty."

He took me to a steakhouse downtown, where several men turned to stare at me as we walked in. This was a new experience for me, and I liked it a lot.

When we were seated with drinks - Randy got me some expensive thing instead of the Bud Light I asked for - I said, "How much are you willing to tell about yourself, Randy?"

"I don't mind telling you about myself. I'm a lawyer, and a good and successful one. I'm married with two grown kids and a wife who's happiest when I'm not around. I've got a number of appetites that she wants no part of, and she's got a lover who satisfies her rather conventional requirements. Our arrangement is comfortable, actually. I'm whatever you'd call a man who's a slut - a horndog, maybe - and I'm extremely fond of sluts. But I've never met a girl who was just in the process of discovering her sluttiness, and that makes you very exciting. Any questions?"

"I'll let you know if I think of any," I said.

"What more should I know about you?" he asked. "What was the job you lost?"

I told him about being a dental assistant and how Doctor Rosenberg had fired me and what Lester had done when he dumped me. "And here I am twenty-four hours later," I said, "still so horny I could scream. I feel like I'm never going to get over this. It's like I want a cock in my throat every minute of every day. Well, maybe not this morning, when I was hung over and throwing up."

"You deserve to have lots of cocks in your throat," he said. "I hope I can help with that."

He talked about his sex life through much of dinner. He'd been to whorehouses all through the United States and around the world, and he'd experienced just about every possible kind of sex. I was amazed that just hours ago I'd thought there were only a few ways to fuck. By the time we were done with dinner I was in much more desperate shape than I'd been before. I practically leapt to my feet when he said, "Shall we go?"




God and the Cum Dump



He had an apartment that he called his fuck pad. It was an amazing place: all the tables, shelves and stuff that looked like wood were real wood, there was a leather sofa and leather chair in the living room, and expensive stainless steel appliances in the kitchen. The floors were wood with oriental rugs, and there were real paintings on the walls. But it wasn't big - just a living room, a small dining area, a kitchen, one bedroom, and one bathroom. "How much space do you need for a fuck pad?" he said.

Randy stood me in the middle of his living room and circled me slowly. He stopped behind me and pushed my back forward while he pulled back on my shoulders. "Stand up straight," he said. "Show off your lovely body."

"It's not lovely," I whined.

"Trust me," he said. He lifted the hem of my dress and said, "Hmm. Panties. Take them off."

I slipped them down and left them on the floor.

"Very good," he said. "Now we're ready to start. Come with me."

He took my hand and led the way down a hall to the bathroom. I followed him inside, wondering what this was about.

"Do you need to pee?" he asked.

Now that he'd mentioned it, "Yeah," I said, "I actually do."

"I'm going to watch," he said. "Step into the bathtub."

His words and manner didn't invite argument - and the fact is, I was already getting excited, thinking about him watching me pee.

The bathtub was a big Jacuzzi. I stepped into it, stood, and waited. He fetched a tall glass from the medicine cabinet, stepped into the tub, and sat on the sill facing me - a strange sight in his gray suit.

He handed me the glass and said, "Go in this."

I took the glass, hiked up my dress, spread my legs, and held it under me. I tried to go, but nothing would come. I was too nervous and embarrassed.

"There's no hurry," he said.

"Why do you want me to do this?" I asked.

"I like to watch women pee," he said, "and I'm curious to know if you'll like me watching."

"I think I will," I said, "if I can do it." My embarrassment was turning me on.

"The trick is to talk yourself into the notion that there's nothing unusual going on," he said. "You're just taking a pee. Once you get started, you can let yourself think about the perversity of it."

"I don't usually pee standing up," I said.

"Then try squatting."

I set the glass down on the floor of the tub and squatted over it, looking down to make sure it was positioned right, holding one side of the tub for balance, and holding my dress out of the way with the other. The logistics of this were difficult.

"Keep looking down," he said softly. "Don't look at me."

I tried to relax my body and pretend he wasn't there. And then, like magic, my pee started to flow, splashing into the glass.

Thrilled by this success, I looked up at Randy, only to find myself staring at his cock, less than a foot away, pointing straight at me, his fingers wrapped around the shaft. I stared stupidly into his slit, like it was some hypnotic eye.

"More than one thing comes out of a cock," he said, and just like that, his pee blasted straight into my face, splashing on my nose and splattering everywhere.

I blinked furiously, then turned my head away and shut my eyes tight. But the warm splatter on my cheek and the thought of what he was doing sent a huge wave of arousal through me. I turned back to him, opened my mouth and eyes, and watched him aim the stream of pee into me.

I let my mouth fill up and the pee flow out, over my chin and down to soak my new dress. I listened to the puddling and splashing sounds inside my head, the drip on the fiberglass floor of the tub, the trickle in the drain - such amazingly sexy sounds! I closed my mouth and swallowed some pee, sampling it. It was acrid, nasty, and thrilling. I opened for more and swallowed again and again till he was done. He squeezed a few drops out of himself, and I leaned forward and caught them on my tongue.

Only then did I notice that I'd stopped peeing in my glass, though I wasn't empty yet. I peed - it was easy to get going again - and didn't run out till the glass was nearly full.

"Tell me about it," he said. "Drinking my piss."

"It was sexy," I said.

"Did you like the flavor?"

"It was icky," I said. "But cum isn't all that great either. If you want wonderful flavors, you buy some Ben and Jerry's. I'm not a cum dump because it's yummy."

"I guess that's so," he said. He reached under me, picked up the glass, and raised it to his nose. "But you have a lovely bouquet," he said. He took a sip and said, "Crisp and expressive. Spicy. Here, try it."

I took the glass and sniffed it. It smelled like an unclean bathroom. I sipped. I made a face at him and said, "Surprise. It tastes like piss."

He took the glass from me and said, "Tip your head back. Close your eyes."

I did that, and he poured my pee over my face, rubbing with his other hand to spread it everywhere. Then he poured it over my front and reached around me and poured it down my back.

"How do you feel now?" he asked.

"This dress is ruined," I said.

"In a good cause," he said. "How about you?"

"I'm ruined too."

"Good," he said, grabbed my head again, and fucked my face.

5. A Piece of Equipment

It was the most amazingly intense experience, being drenched with piss and face-fucked. I swallowed Randy's load, and we lounged for a long time in the big Jacuzzi, water swirling around us. Then he took me to his bedroom, fucked me, and came in my mouth again.

After that we tended to the dress. It wasn't ruined, he insisted. He put it in the washing machine (this place was so well equipped!) with some vinegar. We had a nightcap till it was ready to put in the dryer, and then went to bed. As he slept, I lay beside him and masturbated, and masturbated again, and couldn't satisfy myself. Eventually I fell asleep, but I was restless all night.

In the morning, over breakfast, I said, "I'm not just a hole to you, Randy."

"That's a terrible thing to say to a man who pissed in your mouth only last night," he said, smiling.

"Still, it's true," I said. "I know I don't have a lot of experience, but I can tell the difference. Six of those eight guys the other night, they saw me as a thing to shoot cum into. I was something else to Doctor Rosenberg, because he'd just fired me. And you - you like me."

He looked at me quizzically.

"I don't mean you're like romantically involved," I said. "I mean you look at me as a human being - almost like a friend. If I were drowning, you'd care enough to throw me a life preserver."

"I guess I would," he said. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay," I said. "I really liked drinking your piss and swallowing your cum last night, and I'm not against friendship. If you care about me enough to be a friend, I'd like you as a friend."

"I do," he said. "I like you."

"And as a friend," I continued, "I'm happy to do vile and disgusting things with you."

"I'm glad," he said. "Sex can be a companionable thing among friends."

"But what turns me on most isn't just the act, but the attitude. When Lester face-fucked me, he was pissed off at me. The fun he got out of making me throw up was mean-spirited, and I got off on that. Doctor Rosenberg couldn't help fucking me, but he couldn't wait to get away from me afterwards. That turned me on. And I was nothing at all to the other six, and that turned me on too."

"I get it," he said.

"I don't mean any disrespect to you," I said.

"It's okay," he said. "I'm not offended."

He sat back and studied me. Then he leaned forward and said, "Listen. I'm going to a party tonight. It's at a sex club a little way out of town. There'll be a lot of men and women there, and they'll all be horny. I was going to bring a whore - someone who likes to be shared around. Do you want to go instead?"

It sounded exciting, but I said, "I don't want to do a girl out of a job. Times are hard, you know."

"Okay," he said, "I'll take you both. There'll be plenty of action for everyone, and if you want to be an object, I know a dandy object you can be."

"What?" I asked, getting even more excited.

"Let me surprise you," he said. "Trust me?"

"Trusting you is probably a dumb thing to do," I said, "but I'll do it, since you're a friend."

"I'll take you home now," he said, "and pick you up at eight. Wear the black dress - no bra or panties - and your fuck-me shoes."

At home, I tried watching TV but was too restless. I'm not much of a reader, so I didn't have any books or magazines around. I really missed my job now. I went out and took a long walk. When I got back I watched an online video on how to shave your pussy, trimmed my bush short, took a bath, lingering in the warm soapy water, and shaved myself bald. Since I could feel a little spray of hair around my asshole, I shaved there too and was pleased I didn't cut myself. I put on my skimpy black dress and heels and stood in front of a mirror. I lifted the hem of the dress slowly, wondering how far I had to lift before I could see my privates. Not far at all, as it happened. My cunt would be on display tonight.

I tried to eat but didn't have much of an appetite. It was just as well: I needed to lose something from those hips.

After I'd eaten I still had a half hour to wait. I just paced till Randy arrived.

Randy's whore was a cute petite blond named Casey, who was wearing a skimpy gold dress that was like straps from the waist up and hardly covered her at all. She had a squeaky voice and a fun, bubbly manner, and she hugged me when Randy introduced us. When we were in the car she said, "Randy says you're going to do most of the cocksucking. I'm so glad! Don't get me wrong - I love sucking cocks! But when I do it like all night, it makes my TMJ act up. That's how I got into anal. When a guy knows he's going to get anal, he rushes through the other stuff - so there's less oral! Do you like anal?"

"I've been scared to try," I said.

"Oh, don't be!" she trilled. "I know lots of girls are scared because they think it's going to be like the most painful thing ever, but you just relax, and there's a little pain for a few seconds, and then it's loads of fun! I just love things in my ass - cocks, butt plugs, dildos. I'm going to do loads of anal tonight! You should watch me if you get a chance. It's different in real life than in the pornos - they make it look way more painful there."

"Okay, thanks," I said. The idea of watching this cute fun girl get her ass fucked was attractive, in fact. I wondered if she'd scream.

"You aren't, you know, a prostitute, are you?" asked Casey.

"No," I said, "just a slut."

"That's great!" she said. "I've always been a slut. It was so empowering when I figured out I could make a living at it."

"Maybe I should too," I said. "I just got fired and I have no idea what I'm going to do."

"You'd be great," Casey burbled. "You know, there's something about your face that says fuck me. I bet men fall all over themselves when you walk into a room."

"Not so far," I said.

"Brenda just recently discovered her inner slut and got a makeover," said Randy. "She hasn't got a clue about the power she's got - not yet."

"Ooh, you're going to love being a slut," Casey laughed. "Men'll do anything at all to get in your pants, and afterwards you're completely free. They never want to see you again!"

"Is that a good thing?" I asked.

"Of course it is! You don't want them stalking you, trying to rescue you, inviting you home to meet their mothers . . ."

I thought about Lester again. I hadn't felt a moment of loss, and it was hard to imagine wanting another boyfriend - he'd have to be a huge improvement over Lester before I'd give it a second's thought.

"Good point," I said.

"Here we are," said Randy.

We were outside of town approaching what looked like an isolated McMansion. Randy carefully pulled onto the grass beside the driveway. "No parking lot," he said. "It'd make the place look too much like a business."

Carrying a gym bag, he led us to the door, where he showed his invitation to a man in a tailcoat and white tie. A butler! He looked very cool - I'd never seen one before.

"Straight down that way," the man said, pointing towards a short hallway that led to a big room where I could see people milling about with drinks.

Randy said, "Why don't you just circulate, Casey. Brenda, stay with me, and I'll get you set up when there are more people here."

But Casey had already spotted someone she knew. "Danny!" she shrieked, and ran away to hug a round man with a big white mustache that made him look a little like the Monopoly guy. He seemed glad to see her.

Randy said, "Casey's job is just to have sex a lot. I'm giving her a flat fee, but she'll get lots of tips too."

"What about me, Randy?"

"Do you mean are you getting paid?"

"Not exactly. But am I a guest, your date, or what?"

An obese middle-aged woman with red hair interrupted us. "Randy, you simply must introduce me to this ravishing creature!"

Randy said, "Betsy, this is Brenda."

"You're lovely dear," said Betsy. "I feel myself drawn towards you. May I ask what your kink is?"

I looked at Randy, feeling at a loss.

"Everybody here's got a kink," Randy explained. "I'm a boy slut with multiple fetishes, and Betsy's a lesbian domina."

"Oh," I said. "I'm a cum dump."

"Oh," said Betsy, a bit disappointed. "I was hoping you'd be into something I could use."

"You never know," Randy said. "Brenda's just starting to explore her inner slut."

"How lovely," said Betsy. "I hope we can talk again when the party's gotten going."

To me it looked like the party was going already. The room was filling up, people were performing a variety of sex acts on the furniture and floor, and, off in a corner, a woman was flogging a man and turning his back red.

When Betsy was gone I said, "Well?"

"Well," said Randy, "I told the host I was bringing some equipment."

"What kind of equipment?" I asked, feeling tingly down below.

"Have you ever been tied up?" asked Randy.

"No," I said.

"You don't absolutely have to be," he said, "but it'll be a more intense experience if you are. Of course, you just have to shout and I'll come to release you."

"Tie me up," I said.

"Undress and kneel on the floor," he said, opening his bag.

People turned to watch as I undressed - a quick process, since I had no nothing but shoes and the one-piece black dress. Randy put these things away in his bag, and I knelt and waited for him. He tied my ankles to my thighs, saying "This is a frogtie." Now I had to sit on my heels as he went on. He had a sort of big sleeve that laced up. He pulled both of my arms behind me and secured them with this. 

Finally he showed me a big ring with a strap attached to either side. "This is a ring gag," he said. "Okay?"

I nodded, very excited now. I opened my mouth wide, and he slid the ring in, then turned it so it was behind my teeth, forcing my mouth wide open. He buckled the straps behind my head.

He squatted in front of me and said, "Do you still trust me?"

I nodded. I trusted that he'd arranged something degrading for me.

He waved another man over and said, "Harry, this is Brenda, the equipment I told you about."

Harry studied me.

"Can you help me install her?" Randy asked.

They picked me up by my legs, put their arms around my shoulders, and carried off to the side and through a door marked "Men." This was a first: I'd never been in a men's room before. There were a couple of stalls and some sinks on one side of the room, and on the other side were urinals separated by metal screens, so each urinal was in a kind of bay. But one bay was empty except for a drain in the floor about two feet from the wall, and they set me in this one, facing out into the room. My legs were parted, and the drain was between my knees.

Randy reached into his bag one more time and brought out a sign and a roll of tape. The sign said, "URINATE OR EJACULATE HERE." He taped it to the wall above my head.

"Will you be okay here for a while?" Randy asked. I nodded.

"If you make a big noise, I'll hear," he said.

"You go ahead, Randy," said Harry. "I'll be along in a couple of minutes."

Randy left the room. Harry stood in front of me, unzipped his pants, and pulled his cock out. He aimed it at my face and started to pee, splashing my chin for a second before he managed to adjust his aim so he was peeing through the ring that held my mouth open.

I was turned on by the piss and the way Harry hadn't said a word to me. I found that I could swallow a bit, though my mouth was wide open, and I got down some of his piss, though a lot of it cascaded out of my mouth, down between my boobs, over my stomach, and into the drain in the floor.

As his stream was dying away, I said "Nngh," trying to tell him I wanted him to fuck my mouth. He didn't say anything, though, but just shook himself off in my face, went to the sinks to wash up, and left the room.

For a few minutes I sat and pondered what was happening to me. Here I was the ultimate objectified woman, a human urinal, and I was impossibly happy. Something had to be wrong with me, because this wasn't right.

I didn't have much time to think about it, though, because just then a young man came into the men's room and stopped dead just inside the doorway, staring at me.

"Shit!" he said.

I said, "Aagh."

He stepped up to me, took out his cock, and peed, a strong stream that went on a long time. He stepped closer as he was peeing, till his cock was inside the ring, making his stream even stronger.

"Fuck," he sighed as he finished peeing and shook himself off. Then he took a step back and stared at me as he stroked his cock, which was getting hard fast. I gazed into his face, more excited by the second. Soon his cock was hard - long and thick - and he stepped forward, leaned into me, supporting himself with one hand on the wall and the other on a separator, and fucked my mouth.

It was a little harder to control my gag reflex being tied up with the ring in my mouth, but that made it all hotter. My body was buzzing, my pussy hot and damp.

At last he pushed himself upright and jerked off, his cock a few inches from my mouth, and, after a few seconds, came. Most of his cum went in my mouth, but some splattered on my chin and cheeks. I swallowed what I could.

He went over to the sinks, cleaned off the end of his cock with a paper towel, and washed up. Then he turned to me and said, "Am I supposed to clean you up? You know, like flushing?"

I shook my head. He stood and stared at me for a long time, making me blush, and then he left.

This time it was no more than a minute before someone came in - two men this time, one middle aged and the other Danny, the Monopoly guy. They stared at me for a few seconds, and then Danny said, "Harry's parties are absolutely the best."

"Yuh," said the other man. "You want to go first?"

"After you," said Danny.

The other man stepped up to me, took out his cock, and peed. Instead of aiming into my mouth, though, he peed on my face, moving the stream around - cheeks, chin, nose, eyes, forehead, hair. After he'd shaken himself off, Danny peed in my mouth for a while, but then aimed his stream at my tits, which he wetted thoroughly. They didn't stay to masturbate.

Over the next hour or so, a lot of men came into the room, and every single one of them used me instead of the porcelain urinals. Several of them - the beer drinkers maybe - made more than one visit. About half of them jerked off in my face or fucked my throat and came in my mouth. Clearly the men's room was the place to be at this party.

6. The Doc, the Lesbian, and the Reverend




God and the Cum Dump



Eventually the men's visits got farther apart, and I was spending more time alone with my thoughts. This was not a welcome development: I didn't want to think about what my new-found appetites said about me or the implications for my future life. Instead I spent the time thinking about how different the different men's urine had tasted - some so strong it almost burned my tongue and some watery and weak, some tangy and acidic and some sweet and fruity - well, almost. Cum also came in different flavors - sweet, fatty, salty, as complex as wine, though in truth not so pleasant.

I'd been in a reverie for quite a while when the door opened and Dr. Rosenberg came in, took a key out of his pocket, and locked the door behind him.

"When you're a friend of the club owner," he said, "you get these little privileges, like alone time with everybody's favorite urinal."

He stepped up to me, unzipped, and pulled out his cock.

"You know," he said as he started to piss, "I've always wanted to piss in your mouth. There's something about you - I noticed it way back when you interviewed for your job. A kind of cringing, slavish quality, as if you knew what a worthless bitch you were and needed to prove it to the world. As if you were always wearing a sign that said 'Defile Me.'"

"Nngh," I said, trying to swallow as much as I could of his piss. Somehow the piss of a shithead like Dr. Rosenberg was way sexier than anybody else's.

"That's why I hired you," he said. "I love doing degrading things to sluts. But you were so coarse and stupid, just trailer trash, really, that I found the idea of sexual contact with you repellent."

That wasn't fair. I'd never lived in a trailer. I said "Aaagh" in protest, the syllable bubbling through a mouthful of piss.

"Still, I couldn't stop wanting to fuck you," he said. "So of course I was looking for a reason to fire you."

I couldn't see the logic in that, but I was in no position to argue. Between his piss and his insults, my cunt was pulsing.

"Luckily, you proved to be incompetent, so I could fire you for cause. Then when I happened on your gangbang, I had to join in or be called a pussy," he said, "and you were good."

I was amazed that he was still pissing. I wondered how long he'd been saving it up for. He'd been moving his cock around, pissing on my nose, my eyelids, and my forehead, then down to my breasts.

"No, you were better than good," he said, raising his cock to piss into my open mouth again. "I could tell from the moment your lips touched my asshole. You weren't just going through the motions: you were a slut with conviction. I knew I had to sodomize you."

His stream was growing weaker as he said, "So I'll do that tonight, and then I'll put you out of my mind."

He was empty now. Like all the others, he shook himself off, liking the way I blinked as the last few drops of urine splattered on my face. He jerked himself off till he was hard, then put his cock in my mouth.

"You've got precisely one talent, Brenda," he said, fucking my face, "a talent for defilement. In every other way you're a failure."

I was starting to become aware of pressure in my bladder. All that piss I'd drunk tonight was looking for the exit.

"I want to tie you a different way," he said, pulling out of me. "I won't hurt you. I just want better access to your anus."

So he wanted anal sex. When Lester had wanted to do it, it had seemed like such a big, scary deal. Now I thought, why not? Drinking a quart of piss and cum over an evening tends to put things in perspective. So it might hurt a little. So what?

I nodded, and Dr. Rosenberg took the sleeve off my arms and untied my legs.

"Get on your hands and knees," he said, and I did that.

"Now rest your weight on your shoulders and put your hands down between your legs," he said, manipulating me into position. He tied my wrists to my ankles, and I was completely immobilized, ass up in the air and cheek pressed against the cool tile floor.

The doctor took his pants and underwear off and said, "It's your lucky day. I just happen to have some lubricant with me. No self-respecting pervert should be without it."

He poured the cool liquid into my crack, and I felt his strong fingers spread it around, then probe into my anus, pulling and stretching it. As he worked he said, "You have a fat ass. I like that, even though it marks you as trash." With two fingers in me now, he said, "You haven't been ass-fucked before, I can tell. But you shaved your ass, so you must have wanted it. You should have given yourself an enema, though."

I said "Nngh" and wiggled my bottom as he thrust a third finger into me. This one hurt, for a few seconds anyway.

"Your ass is made for perforation," he said. "You could easily work your way up to fisting."

He withdrew his fingers, and a few seconds later I felt the pressure of his cock there. It pressed harder, then as he pushed into me, my sphincter stretched so painfully I wanted to scream. But that would have brought rescuers, and I didn't want to be rescued, so I forced myself to just groan there behind my ring gag.

Soon he was all the way in, and the pain gave way to intense pleasure - with the stimulation of my sensitive asshole, the stretching, the pressure inside, I was feeling better the harder he fucked me.

I had no sense of time - I hadn't, in fact, since Randy had taken me to the men's room. I don't know how long Dr. Rosenberg fucked me - five minutes or an hour. But eventually he pulled out and turned me onto my back. I was just as helpless as I'd been on my knees and shoulders: now my arms and legs were almost painfully bunched up above my belly and breasts.

He stood above me, holding his cock in his right hand. It was wet with lubricant and flecked with brown bits that I was pretty sure hadn't been there before. "This is my favorite part," he said.

"Aaagh," I said, shaking my head. Ignoring my protests, he squatted over my face and thrust his cock into me.

If you're not used to shit, there's not much difference between a little and a lot of it. My senses were overwhelmed with the vile smell and taste. My stomach lurched, and I turned my head and threw up on the floor - not a lot, since I hadn't had much to eat, but it was chunky.

"Good," he said. "I like that." He took my head in his hands, turned my face upright, and drove down into me again. This time the shit smell was less, but still my stomach heaved, and I had to turn my head and throw up again. Meanwhile my sexual temperature was rocketing into the stratosphere. I recognized what this was about, too. It wasn't the shit, but the throwing up. Getting turned on with Lester wasn't a fluke: I loved gagging and vomiting.

He turned my head upright and drove in yet again. This time I didn't throw up, but just let him fuck me, deep in my throat, till he came.

He stood, went to the sink, and cleaned off his cock with a wet paper towel. As he dressed, he said, "Since you obviously have no future in dentistry, maybe you should consider a career as a whore. You're not pretty like Casey out there, whom I butt-fucked earlier tonight, but you're a lot kinkier. When people find out what you can do, you'll be able to build a nice little business."

"Aaagh," I said. I thought the idea was worth thinking about.

"Leave me a message if you decide to take up whoring," he said. "I'll want to know." He unlocked the men's room door and returned to the party, leaving me lying on my back, still tied up and wearing my ring gag. I decided after a minute that I couldn't wait any longer to pee, so I went on the bathroom floor. It was a mess anyway, and so was I, lying in my puddled vomit with piss and cum drying on my body - so why not?

Randy and Betsy came into the men's room together and looked at me.

Randy said, "Jesus."

"Fuck," said Betsy.

I said, "Nngh."

They quickly untied me and took off my gag.

"What happened to you?" asked Randy.

"Dr. Rosenberg," I said. "You know, I think I'm getting to like anal. Will you ass-fuck me sometime, Randy?"

"Sure," he said, "but we'd better get you cleaned up now."

They helped me to my feet and led me out into the room. Harry looked around and started to clap his hands loudly. Another man did the same, and another, and soon every man in the room was turned my way, applauding. I gave them a big smile. They were making me feel like a rock star.

Betsy said, "I'll show you where the showers are." She led me through a door, down a hallway, up some stairs, along another hallway, and into a bathroom with a big shower stall. She took her clothes off while I watched. She was fat, but her body was firm, somehow. She was actually attractive.

She came to me and put her arms around me. "God, you stink," she said. "I'll bet you've never kissed a woman, right?"

"I never have," I said.

She kissed me, and it was a lovely kiss - one of the best ever, not that a lot of people had kissed me.

She gently lay me on the floor, squatted over my head, pressed her cunt against my open mouth, and peed in me. Something about Betsy made me want to please her: I did my best to swallow all her piss.

When she was done, she stood up, turned on the shower, made it good and hot, got in with me, and washed me. When I offered to do the same for her, she said, "My treat."

She toweled me off afterwards, and when my skin was pink and clean, she said, "This is my treat, too," laid me down on a bench, and went down on me. Lester had never done that, nobody ever had, and it was heaven. I had an orgasm within a minute and said, "Let me try that."

"Not now," she said. "I'll call you soon, and we'll do lots of fun, squicky things together."

"I'd like that," I said.

"It'll make up for some of your lost income," she said. So there was another vote for whoring.

When we got downstairs again, Randy was ready to go.

We dropped Casey at an apartment building downtown, and then Randy dropped me at my place. As I was opening the car door, he handed me an envelope and said, "Harry thought you might enjoy this."

Then he kissed me and said, "See you soon."

I brushed my teeth, went to bed, and dreamed cock dreams - about their hardness, their warmth, and the cum and piss that jetted from the lovely little slits in their ends.

I woke up having a panic attack. It was Sunday morning, and I'd always loved going to church, where I felt bathed in God's love and the love of the community. But would they love me this morning? Did God still love me?

It was hard to make myself go to church, but I managed it. At first I thought it was a terrible mistake. When my mother saw me outside, she burst into tears and ran into the church. Everybody else pretended I wasn't there. The Reverend Edwards approached me with a severe face and said, "Brenda, I believe we'd better talk as soon as possible. Come to my office an hour after the service."

"Yes, Reverend," I said meekly, my stomach churning. I was sure I was going to get a terrible scolding.

I sat in the back in an empty pew. The Reverend preached on the sinful woman who washed Jesus's feet with her tears and hair. He said Jesus loved her more because her sins were greater, and He didn't love the Pharisees because they hadn't kissed Him or washed His feet. The sermon made me feel a little better about myself.

I made a quick getaway after the service and took a long walk. My panties were damp; the sermon had left me kind of steamed up, and I needed to cool off. When it was time to report to the Reverend's office, the church was mostly empty - there were a few meetings going on in rooms in the basement, but his office was upstairs in the rear of the building.

The Reverend Jonathan Edwards was a huge bear of a man with thick black hair, a heavy five o'clock shadow, and an impressive bass voice. He looked grave as he closed his office door and gestured me into a chair. He came straight to the point. "Disturbing rumors are circulating about you, Brenda," he said. "If they're untrue, my word will go a long way towards dispelling them."

"They're true, Reverend," I said.

"That you, um, had relations with, ah, seven men outside Mickey's Tap last Thursday evening?"

"Eight, Reverend. And there's more." I told him everything - about my insatiable appetite for cum and piss, how I needed to be face-fucked so I threw up, my night as a urinal, my initiation into anal sex, and my lesbian encounter with Betsy.

"Ever since my boyfriend dumped me last Thursday, I've been horny all the time," I said, "and I want to have sex with every man I see. I'm a sinner, a cum dump and worse, and totally out of control. People keep telling me I'd make a good whore."

I'd never noticed how impossibly handsome the Reverend was. I caught myself licking my lips and, shocked at my behavior, put a hand to my mouth. Still, I couldn't help staring.

"We're all sinners, Brenda," he intoned, sitting back in his chair and folding his hands over his paunch. "It's the fallen nature of the human animal. Did you attend to my sermon about the sinful woman who washed the feet of our Lord?"

I realized I'd begun to suck my index finger. I quickly folded my hands in my lap. "Yes, Reverend," I said.

"He forgave her, my child, because of her love for Him. She didn't promise to sin no more, because such a promise would have been impossible to keep." The Reverend Edwards's hands, which had disappeared from sight, seemed to be busy behind his desk. He continued, "Nor did our Lord tell her to sin no more, because He understood human nature too well."

"Are you saying it's all right to sin, Reverend?" I asked. Heat was rising inside me, from my pussy through my nips up to my face.

"I'm saying, my child," he said, voice rising, "that sin is inescapable and necessary. Without it, there can be no grace. We are frail beings, slaves to our appetites. The best we can do is love our Lord with all our hearts and trust in His love to save us."

"I do love Jesus!" I cried. Somehow my right hand had found its way under my dress and I was rubbing my clit. "I so want to kiss him and wash his feet!"

The Reverend rose from his chair: his pants were undone and he was holding himself in his hand. He came around the desk and loomed over me. My panties were soaking wet as I gazed at his erect cock, which was enormous - the biggest I'd ever seen. Burning with love for our Lord, I leaned forward and took him in my mouth as he put a hand behind my head and pulled me to him.

"God's love is infinite, my child," the Reverend boomed as he thrust deep into my throat, making me gag and drool. "As often as we fall, He forgives us, because we are His children." My lips and nose were smashed against the wool of his pants, and I couldn't breathe. His cock was unbelievably thick: it forced my mouth open as wide as it would go, and it seemed to have made its way halfway to my stomach. I rubbed my cunt faster and harder.

The Reverend's powerful hands crushed me to him and he cried, "Love the Lord with all your heart, and He will forgive your sins!" My stomach lurched, I vomited, mostly through my nose, soaking his trousers, and sensation blasted through me as he fucked my face deeper with every thrust. I was masturbating two-handed now, cramming as many fingers as I could into my cunt and kneading my clit frantically.

"Love Jesus!" he cried, and came deep in my throat, and I came too, inflamed with devotion, my body racked with spasms from my fiery orgasm and gagging on huge globs of hot, heavy cum.

Still he held me to him with a powerful hand and spoke to me with quiet urgency, twitching as I caressed his shrinking cock with my tongue. "I'm sure the congregation will welcome you again," he gasped, hyperventilating, "when a decent time has passed, and you've spent that time behaving discreetly. This will blow over. But it might be better if you didn't attend services - for a few weeks at least. Come see me each Sunday afternoon at this time, and I will continue your religious education. Will you do that, Brenda?"

I nodded as best I could with my mouth still full of his warm, soft flesh.

"Good," he said. "Nothing in the world is more important than the salvation of a soul." Then he flooded my mouth with piss.

7. Old Fart Bang

I showered and lounged at home Sunday afternoon, reassured by the wise words of the Reverend Edwards, who'd given me two hundred for face-fucking me and told me to read about the God-fearing whore Rahab. It felt way better being an excellent cum dump than it had being a mediocrity on her way to oblivion. Respectability had never gotten me much respect - or fun.

Casey called me in the middle of the afternoon.

"Hi, Brenda!" she bubbled. "Randy gave me your number. I hope you don't mind. It's just that you were so awesome last night, I've been thinking all day what a fantastic whore you'd make. I get so many calls for like two girls, and there aren't that many I want to work with. Well, I know not everybody wants to be a whore, but you're such a slut, I just love you. Would you like think about it?"

"I remember you saying I'd make a good whore last night," I said. "And other people have been saying the same thing. I've been thinking about it a lot."

"So what do you think?" asked Casey eagerly.

"Do you believe in God?" I asked.

"Well . . . yeah . . . I guess," she said.

"I've been trying to figure out what God wants for me. It seems to me like, when I got fired, it was like coming to like a road construction site? and the road is closed off? and you have to take a detour. You see where I'm going with this?"

"I think so," she said.

"It's like God closed off the dental assistant road, and the detour was through whore."

Casey said, "So you're saying God wants you to be a whore?"

"I think He does," I said. "Why else would He have made me a cum dump and got me fired and sent Randy along just when He did?"

"Good point," she said.

"I totally believe that God has all our best interests at heart," I said, "and if you really think about what He wants for you, you can never go wrong."

"I'd never thought about it quite that way," she said, "but I'll bet you're right."

"So anyway," I said, "I guess what it comes down to is, if something comes up, you should totally call me."

"Well, actually, something has come up," she said. "If you're interested."

I felt a little fluttery. Was this what the rest of my life was going to be like? Getting naughty anonymous sex two or three times a day? "Tell me about it," I said.

"Well, it's a Shriner's Temple in the city," said Casey. "A service organization - a men's club, actually. It was kind of a spur-of-the-moment thing: they had a budget surplus, and it was either support a few more sick children or rent a couple of whores. They called me this morning and asked me to come and bring a friend."

"Thanks for thinking of me," I said. "How many guys do you think will be there, and what'll they want from us?"

"About twenty of them, in their fifties and up. They spend like half their lives watching pornos online, and they want to do exactly what they see there. You know, gangbang us, maybe rough us up a little - slapping, that kind of thing. And some kink, too. When they find out what you're into, they'll definitely want some of that."

So we'd be fucking a bunch of kinky old farts. I liked the idea but was a little scared. "Twenty is a lot of men," I said.

"Well, the good thing is that most of them are so far over the hill they won't be able to do much. Figure maybe ten active participants, five for each of us."

"How much?" I asked.

"One thousand each, for an hour," she said. "You'll get tips too - lots of them if they have a good time."

I was floored. I'd never imagined it was possible to earn a thousand for an hour of work.




God and the Cum Dump



"Wow," I said. "That's a lot of money."

"We're talking about a lot of fucking," she said, "and doing stuff most girls won't do - even whores."

"I'm in," I said.

"I'll pick you up at eight," said Casey.

Casey wasn't just a chatterbox - she was mercilessly optimistic, seeing only the good in everyone and looking on the positive side of every question. "Whoring is absolutely the best," she said, "and you'll just love fucking old men. They're imaginative and kind of kinky, like I said, and the really great thing is, they're all done in an hour. Once I was at a frat house party, me and this other girl, with like twenty guys, and they all wanted two or three goes with us and we were there like all night. I was sore for days afterwards! But the boys were all good looking and had really great cocks. You'd like frat boys - they come like a gallon."

It was about a half hour from our town to the city, and Casey talked the whole way. I was sometimes able to wedge in questions, which she'd answer at enormous length. I really liked her.

As we got near the city, Casey said, "Listen, we need to plan something to do to start things off - you know, get the guys revved up."

"Okay," I said. "What do you have in mind?"

We spent the rest of our drive making a plan.

I knew there was a Shriners' Temple in the city, a big building with like an onion on top, but we weren't going there. Casey said, "The Temple has hundreds of members, but this is just the leaders spending the Temple's money on themselves." That seemed fair enough: if you spend two thousand dollars on a couple hundred guys, they'll maybe get a hamburger and a coke. Spend it on a few and they can all have a kinky fuck.

Casey pulled up in front of an old mansion. "This is the Potentate's house," she said as we both wriggled out of our panties and squirted lubricant into our cunts and asses. I was wearing the black fuck-me dress Randy had bought me, and Casey was wearing a white mini and a white top with "SLUT" printed on it in large red letters. We got out of the car carrying an overnight bag with a change of clothing for each of us, and approached a door that put me in mind of an entrance to a fairy tale palace.

The door was opened before we even got to it, by a portly smiling man, around sixty-five, with a white mustache and a silly dark red Shriner's hat with a long black tassel.

He said, "Hello, Casey. You're completely ravishing tonight."

She practically flung herself at him, gave him a huge hug, and cried, "Chief Rabban! Have you been keeping that sweet pecker of yours in shape for me?"

"I never fail to take my vitamins, dear," he said, examining me over the top of her head. "And this is your lovely friend . . ."

"Brenda," said Casey, beaming at me as she released him.

"Hello, Chief Rabban," I said, smiling as I tried to imagine what was in his pants. I'd never seen a man his age naked before.

"Come in, come in!" he exclaimed. "Everybody's here."

He led us into a large living room, where men in Shriner's hats, white shirts, and tuxedo pants were sitting and standing with drinks. The furniture had been pushed back against the walls, and the floor was covered with a shiny blue tarp.

Casey led me around the room, making introductions. She knew them all and greeted each of them with a hug, calling them by their titles - Potentate, Assistant Rabban, High Priest and Prophet, Oriental Guide, Automotive President, and more. I knew I wouldn't remember them all.

The Potentate himself led us over to the drinks table and poured glasses of wine for Casey and me. "Keeping busy, Casey?" he asked.

"Business has been great!" Casey squeaked. "Lots of work for my pussy and ass! But the gangbang trade has been off a little - that's why I was so excited when you called! Shriners are the most awesome gangbangers!"

"We do love our fun. How about you, Brenda?"

"Well, Mr. Potentate," I said, "I've never actually done this before - I mean for money."

"But Brenda's going to be a wonderful whore!" Casey put in. "She's just an incredible cum dump and piss slut."

The Potentate smiled and nodded sagely. In a low voice he said, "Some of the older brothers, you know, have difficulty getting erections, even with Viagra. But they can still have lots of fun urinating on a pretty girl."

"If anyone can get an old man up, Brenda can," said Casey. "She's a legendary cocksucker."

"Really, now," said the Potentate. "I'm sure we're all looking forward to that."

I blushed a little, though I liked being talked about - objectified - this way.

"And," the Potentate continued, "as this is your first excursion qua meretrix, I trust we can make it both remunerative and memorable for you."

"Thank you, Mr. Potentate," I said, though I wasn't sure I completely understood what he'd said.

"Not at all, my dear," he said.

I was excited and eager to get started with our plan. I took Casey's hand and said, "We're not wearing any panties, Mr. Potentate, and I'm incredibly turned on. Would you mind if I ate Casey out?"

"Not at all," said the Potentate genially. "May we watch?"

"Of course, silly, that's the whole idea!" Casey chirped, and gave him a kiss.

We turned towards each other, embraced, and kissed. I'd only ever kissed a woman once, Betsy, at the party, and I'd liked it. I liked Casey's kiss even better. Maybe it was because I hadn't kissed a lot of boys aside from Lester, who thought flossing was for pussies and was sure lots and lots of saliva made a kiss sexier. Casey's breath was sweet, her lips were alive with passion, and her tongue in my mouth had a kind of desperate urgency, like she'd lost something precious and thought she might find it in there.

Her kiss made me feel special - I knew better, of course: she was a slut, like me, and it was her job to make lovers feel special. Still, my pussy was running, thinking of what we'd agreed we'd do and how we were going to play with the men.

While I kissed her, I let one hand stray down to lift the hem of her tiny skirt so the men could see her ass: I could feel she was doing the same to me. While she teased my crack with a fingertip, I put both hands on her ass and pulled her cheeks apart, showing her anus to the men, who watched in hushed silence.

They cheered when we finally broke apart. I pulled off Casey's tank top, and they cheered again. They'd seen her naked before - she was obviously a favorite of theirs - but her perky breasts really were worth a look. I certainly liked looking at them.

I laid her down on the blue tarp - she was so tiny it was like handling a doll - and she spread her legs. I knelt between them, lifted her skirt again, and went down on her.

I'd been looking forward to this. I'd never eaten out a girl before - I don't think you can count Betsy's sitting on my mouth to piss - and I'd been eager to try it.

I was in heaven. I had always liked the taste of my own love juice - I'm a finger-licking masturbator - but getting it right from the source was so much better. Casey's mound was shaved, like mine, and her pink lips were sweet and swollen and floppy as I ran my tongue around, exploring her cunt, and the way she squirmed whenever I got close to her clit was such a turn-on!

She cried, "Yeah, eat me, baby!" My ass was up high so they could see my anus and cunt, and I moaned loudly, both to turn on the men and because I was that turned on myself.

As my mouth was closed over her, I sensed a different kind of wetness and a different flavor. I backed away and watched the piss trickle from her. It stopped. She raised her knees and reached down to pull her pussy lips apart. I waited, watching her asshole flex and pucker and her vag dilate - and the piss arced from her tiny slit right into my open mouth.

The men watched in total silence as I gulped down Casey's piss, letting just enough escape to make a lovely puddle. When she was empty, I knelt and she stood up. I wiped my mouth with the back of a hand and looked around at the men, who seemed like they didn't know what to do next.

Then an old man, eighty if he was a day, pushed to the front of the little crowd. He was naked except for his Shriner's hat, and he took his shrunken cock in his clawlike hand and peed on me, first on my black dress, then on my exposed pussy, which I was rubbing - it felt so good! - and finally on my face and in my mouth. I lay down as another old man came and pissed, and then another, and soon there were two or three warm streams at a time, soaking my dress, wetting my face, and filling up my mouth.

Watching this, the Potentate thrust Casey to her knees in front of him, and she unzipped him, pulled out his cock, and started to suck. This was beyond hot - watching Casey suck cock, the splatter of the piss on my body, the bathroom smell.

Soon all the men had on only their hats, and they didn't stop pissing on me till ten of them - all the oldest men - had used me as a toilet, and I was lying in a big puddle of piss on the blue tarp. I sat up, peeled off my soggy black dress, and wrung it out above my head, letting the cold piss run into my hair, over my face, into my mouth. I lay down and rolled in the puddle of piss, a sow in her mud puddle. I rubbed it all over my body.

When I was shiny with piss, I looked around. The old man who'd pissed on me first was near me, jerking off. He had an erection - not huge or impressive, but it seemed beautiful to me, knowing I had given it to him. I crawled to him and sucked his cock. Soon a cock entered my pussy. I looked around - another old man was fucking me doggy style. And before long a third old man scooted under me, and I sat down on his cock as the second one pushed into my ass.

By that time Casey was getting gangbanged too, sitting in the Potentate's lap with his cock in her ass while the Automotive President fucked her pussy and the Chief Rabban's cock was in her mouth. From where we were we could watch each other get fucked. I made a kissy face at her when my mouth was free for a few seconds, and she blinked at me lasciviously. At that moment one of the younger Shriners, just in his fifties, thrust a strong, big cock into my throat. It took me by surprise after the old men's little cocks - I gagged a bit, and with the sensations roaring through me from my ass and cunt, it was all so hot I had a tremendous orgasm.

They fucked us for a good half hour - I was amazed at the stamina of the old men. But finally the Potentate went to a table and picked up an ornate crystal goblet with a weird symbol on it in gold - a curved sword, moon, and star, which I later found out was a sort of Shriners logo. He came over and handed me the goblet, and I held it up in front of my face. He jerked off till he came, and his cum made a little goopy puddle in the goblet. Then, one by one, the other men came up to me and jerked off into the goblet until it held, I guess, almost a cup of semen. I wondered how much Casey's frat boys would have produced.

They all stood around staring at me now, still wearing their hats, their cocks all flaccid. I was a little disappointed, since I loved the sensation of cum squirting into my mouth. But the cup was warm in my hands, and the cum was obscene and viscous, with white swirls and flecks in it. It looked impossible to drink, and so, naturally, I felt an irresistible urge to drink it.

I raised the cup to my lips and let the warm splooge flow over my tongue to the back of my mouth and ooze down my throat. Something told me not to stop and not to think about the flavor or the sliminess of it - if I did those things, I might throw it up or just be unable to go on. And in the end it went down smooth, and I was incredibly steamed up - nipples hot and erect, cunt damp and almost twitchy with need.

The men all started pulling on their clothing. They were done with sex for the night. I wished there was another twenty of them so I could do it all again. Casey ran to me, flung her arms around me, and kissed me. "Oh my God," she said, "you smell like a toilet - you're such an amazing skank!"

I whispered, "I'm so fucking horny."

"Come take a shower," she said, grabbed our bag, and towed me to a big bathroom, where we had fun soaping each other up and ended up giving each other orgasms on the floor of the shower stall while the hot water ran over us.

The Potentate gave us each a stack of bills when we came downstairs again in our plain dresses and sensible shoes. We got hugs from everyone and left. I counted our money on the way home.

"Twenty-two hundred each," I said. "This is like a month's salary, working for Dr. Rosenberg."

"You're so gonna love being a whore," said Casey.

When we got to my place, I begged Casey to stay the night, and she agreed gladly. We were too tired for sex, though. We crawled into my queen-size bed and fell asleep.

8. I Win

When I woke up the next morning, all my muscles were sore and my pussy and ass were chafed raw. Still, I was incredibly happy, thinking about how the Shriners had objectified me, how much of their cum and piss I'd swallowed, and how much pleasure me and Casey had given them. My new career was working out well, and I was more convinced than ever that I understood God's plan for me.

Casey was just beginning to stir beside me. I was so glad I had someone to share my joy with. I turned to her, said, "Good morning, Casey!" and gave her a hug.

She returned my hug enthusiastically - so enthusiastically, in fact, that it was no time at all before her tongue was in my mouth and her fingers in my slit, and just a little while longer before we were in a lovely sixty-nine on the bed, and my lips were sunk deep in her pretty and very slick cunt while she was stimulating my clit with soft, wet licks.

And soon we'd both had orgasms, and I was making coffee while she buttered toast. As we were finishing our breakfast, I said, "Randy gave me this thing, and I don't know what it is. A computer chip or something."

"Show it to me," she said, and I went to get the envelope he'd given me.

She peered inside and said, "It's an SD card. Let's see your phone."

I had a Samsung phone that was my pride and joy. I fetched it from my purse and handed it to her. She pried off the back and slipped the tiny card into a slot. Then she replaced the back and turned on the phone.

"You're really good with technology," I said.

"If you think I'm really good, that must mean you're barely competent," she said.

I said, "I suppose you're right."

By this time she'd navigated to a file list program I hadn't known was there. "It's a video," she said. "Want to watch it?"

"Sure," I said.

We watched it together for a couple of minutes.

"Stop the movie," I said.

She stopped it and looked at me. "Does it bother you?" she asked with concern.

"No, that's not it," I said. "But do you remember what I said about God making me detour from one job into another?"

"Yeah," she said.

"Well, I was wrong," I said. "It wasn't a detour at all. God loves me more than that. He's giving me everything - absolutely everything my heart desires. Reverend Edwards says God's love is infinite, and this totally proves it."

It was Monday. Me and Casey watched the rest of the video, went to my bedroom where we did some damp and fun things together, lounged, watched TV, and edited the movie on my computer till late in the afternoon, when she decided it was time to go home.

I left my place a little afterwards, and at five sharp I was relaxing in my car in the parking lot of Doctor Rosenberg's dental practice, wearing my dental assistant uniform.

He came out of the building at about five twenty, after all his staff had left. I got out of my car and approached him.

"Hi, Doctor Rosenberg!" I said cheerily. "Got a minute? I've got this cool video, and I just know you're going to want to see it."

"I'm in a hurry," he said, trying to brush by me.

"I promise you're really going to like this," I said, and something in my voice made him stop.

I pulled my phone out of my purse and showed him the video, the one me and Casey had edited from the footage Randy had given me from the security camera hidden in the men's room of the sex club - the one they switch on when there are human urinals in there, to prevent abuse. The action with Dr. Rosenberg had come out really good: you could see his face clearly as he pissed in my mouth, and he'd butt-fucked me and made me throw up right in the middle of the frame.

"Is that hot, or what?" I said.

"Are you trying to blackmail me, bitch?" he asked, looking annoyed and kind of threatening.

"Oh no, Doctor Rosenberg, I'd never do that! I'd never dream of, like, sending it to your wife or posting it on xHamster. I just thought you'd like seeing it. The part where you make me puke is so fucking hot!"

"Thanks for showing me," he said, looking thoughtful. "You know, assistants are hard to find. Maybe I could give you another chance . . ."

"That'd be so wonderful," I said. "I loved my job, and I just know I'll get better at it! But I'm going to need a raise. Now that I've discovered my inner slut, I've got to have a bigger wardrobe. You know, like filthy underwear for under my uniform . . ."

He said, "I don't know about . . ."

"You know what really turns me on about you, doc?" I interrupted, tilting my head and making my voice little and kittenish. "It's the way you can't help fucking me, even though you don't like me at all. I don't like you either - you're a total shithead - but it turns out the men that turn me on most are the ones I don't like and don't like me. I'm getting all hot thinking how you're going to order me into your private bathroom and face-fuck me there, or piss in my mouth, or make me lick the toilet . . ."

I shivered. Doctor Rosenberg was kind of cute, even if he was a prick. Right now he was looking like his body temperature had shot up ten degrees.

"I loved licking your hairy asshole, and when you shot your spunk all over my face, and most of all when you butt-fucked me and made me puke. That was like the best sex I've ever had." I came close to him and touched his cock through his pants as I rubbed his chest and looked up into his eyes. "Butt-fuck me and make me throw up on my uniform, Dr. Rosenberg," I purred. "Just a twenty percent raise."

He'd begun to sweat. "Ten," he said.

"We could do it right now," I whispered. My heart was pounding, my whole body hot with desire. "Think of your cock deep in my throat, my white coat soaked with piss and vomit . . ."

"Okay, twenty," he said in a strangled voice.

"Come inside," I said, "and defile me."