4 comments/  15550 views/  8 favorites

Piss Off

By: man4manlove



Driving down the road to the shopping centre, I decided to pull over at the park a block away and use the facilities.

It was a lovely day with lots of people about and finding a spot to park the beast was looking dicey. Luckily, there was a spot right outside the public restroom where I wanted to go anyway. Locking the car as I walked away from it I noticed a man sitting on a bench several yards away looking me over intently. I could not figure out why. 

I got to the toilet and noted that it was pretty deserted. I walked to the far cubicle and could see that the doors would not close all the way. Oh well.

I entered it and could see there was a mess on the floor. Many little puddles of clear fluid on the floor, and some torn sheets of toilet paper strewn around.

Anyway, I stood at the pan, but I could not go right at that moment, so I decided to sit for a bit and see if the urge would come to me. I was feeling a little warm so I removed my pants and underwear so my legs would feel free. 

The cubicle door was only half closed and wouldn't stay all the way closed so I decided not to worry about it. I then remembered I had something in my pants pocket that I wanted to play with but I could not reach it from my position. Just as I was about to get up, I noticed the man that was sitting on the park bench a little while ago, standing outside my door. His pants were around his ankles and he appeared to be fondling himself. How bizarre.

I decided to ignore him and reach for my pocket. I got off the toilet seat, turned around and bent over at my waist to rummage around in my pants pocket for my gizmo. It was hard to reach so I bent lower and arched my back a little. My cubicle door opened further.

While I was busy with my pants, I heard the middle-aged man outside my door step into my cubicle directly behind me. I was a little surprised, but didn't think much of it at that point. Not until I felt him place his hands on my hips anyway. I could hear him spit a little and felt a bit of moisture on my hole, and wondered what that was all about.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, I felt a bit of pressure at my backdoor, and it was not unpleasant. The pressure increased and it finally occurred to me that this man was about to fuck my butt. I was a little apprehensive about that, because I'm happily married to a great wife who treats me very well, and only brings her boyfriends around to our house on rare occasions. No more than about once a week or so. She brings them around because she loves my cleaning her out with my tongue when they finish. I love her so much.

Anyway, this middle-aged Middle Eastern looking man just started pounding me and I didn't know what to do about it. So, I decided to let him finish and maybe then he would leave me be. Isn't it an old tradition or something that people wear some form of protection when they partake of these sort of activities? Well, this well hung man probably didn't get that memo.

He must have fucked me for fifteen minutes straight before he unloaded a thick hot load of his frothy goodness into me. Great. Now I can get back to my gizmo and try to have a leak like I originally planned to. Mind you, my average sized eight and a half inch cock was now rock solid for some reason, so pissing was not going to be an option. After Ahmed or Bashir or Steve or whatever this guy's name was finally left, I decided to maybe move to the standing urinal until my penis settled down a little and allow me to release my bladder.

No sooner had I lined myself up at the urinal, than I observed another man enter these facilities with the clear intent to patronise them. A larger Anglo-Saxon looking beast he was with a friendly disposition.

"Lost your pantaloons then had you?" He said to me in a cheerful singsong voice that betrayed his size.

I just shrugged and faced forward, hard-on raging with no sign of going away.

So there I was, standing at the urinal minding my own business, and focusing on losing this monstrous erection, when this new gentle giant approaches me from the side and just out of the blue, completely stuns me by beginning to suck my cock! Just like that!

I mean, all I wanted to do was to just go to the toilet, but apparently, today was not my lucky day. He sucked me well enough, I will give him that, but I just wanted to do my business and get on my way. His technique was fascinating. He was doing things with his tongue that were truly breathtaking! I could only last a couple of minutes before I dumped a full measure of sticky baby batter down his throat. I just want to know why he thought I was gay in the first place. I'm not! I'm just a happy, well adjusted, married and satisfied heterosexual man.

Anyway, as my new friend was walking out, I could swear I saw him high-five another man walking into the restroom. This man was of medium height and build, wearing dark sunglasses and had a good strong moustache. Quite hirsute I'd say, if I was pressed to provide a description. Now this man decided to take up a position directly behind me. Obviously wanting to use the urinal I was at. Even though there were eight available urinals surrounding us. And he was standing awfully close behind me.

For the second time since entering this place, I suddenly felt a pair of gentle hands on my hips. I wondered at what that was about. He was rubbing my arse gently, and began to lightly finger my juicy still-gaping hole. I couldn't imagine what he was looking for back there. I just wished that my thundering erection would die down a little so I could just go to the toilet and be done with it. You'd think after dumping what felt like several gallons of love juice just a minute or so ago, I would have softened somewhat. But that wasn't the case. I was still as hard as nails unfortunately.

My new moustachioed buddy leaned a little closer to me and gently blew in my ear. This was not helping me to lose my erection! And of course, I suddenly felt it at that moment. Another anal invader! I sighed, and accepted my fate. Now this man knew how to plunder! His aggressive ploughing was not helping my cause. He was also quite hung. I could almost feel a little discomfort while he was stretching my love hole. Lucky there was still a lot of splooge left in there from my first friend of the afternoon.

Twenty minutes of hard pounding and mister moustache screamed while he unleashed a torrent of warm sperm deep in my bowels. He reached over and kissed me deeply, which I thought was nice, but totally unnecessary. As I said before, I'm not gay, and I doubted very much that he was either.

As he was walking out, I heard my phone ring from my trousers still lying in the cubicle from earlier on. I got to the phone on time to answer it and found it was my wife on the line.

She was moaning so hard, I could barely make out her request that I make my way home as quickly as was practicable, because her friend Tyrone was over there at that moment, servicing her thoroughly. There were two loads waiting for me she said. Now, how the Hell was I supposed to deflate my cock after hearing that!

Some days, it just doesn't pay to try!

Piss on a Politician's Grave Day



There are moments in life when genius strikes even the most average of intellects. Take the invention of the peanut butter and jelly sandwich for example. Despite its apparent violation of the laws of nature, and despite the subsequent arguments of conspiracy theorists, it was not invented by members of the Manhattan Project during their lunch break. We can all thank the resourceful and hard working WWII soldier for that perfect little piece of Americana. Somewhere in a fox hole with bullets flying all around, G.I. Joe realized that when the military gives you bread, jam and peanut butter, the best thing you can do is mash them together.

And while a person might be forgiven for thinking that the ubiquitous and polyuseful paper clip must have been the brainchild of an industrious genius such as Thomas Edison or Henry Ford, it was, in fact, not. The honor for that indispensable inspiration belongs to John Smith, a highly practical dry cleaner from the city of Chicago. In a moment of twisting and bending, he forever solved the problem of how to neatly attach a dry cleaning ticket to an article of clothing, and gave spontaneous orgasms to paper pushers everywhere.

My own eureka moment, as it turned out, came after five beers, two whiskey chasers and nearly ninety minutes of watching politicians on C-SPAN lie, cheat and prostitute their way through another law making session.

It was truly riveting stuff, like being given the opportunity to watch as a bunch of gang rapers argue over which dildo they're going to use to violate your ass, the one with a hundred vibrating spikes or the one that shoots high voltage shocks through the pointy metal tip. I was having a great time yelling obscenities at the television and my cat, Agnew, was having a good time watching me. Eventually, however, my need to piss exceeded my need to be pissed off and, so, throwing one last string of heartfelt epithets over my shoulder, I made for the bathroom.

Standing there in front of the toilet, my mind in the kind of Zen state you can only reach during a truly epic wiz, I contemplated how wonderful life would be if every politician just simply agreed to die. As I savored the thought of their collective demise, my gaze came to focus on the toilet tank and for the first time I noticed just how much it resembled a gleaming white tombstone. I felt a grin move across my face at the notion that I was at that very moment symbolically pissing on the graves of politicians everywhere.

However, as satisfying as that thought was, it was not my eureka moment.

Having finished what may go down as the most spiritually moving bathroom trip of my life, I was washing my hands when suddenly genius saw fit to reach out and bitch slap me like a pimp on a lazy ho. My head shot up with a sudden realization and as I stared at my own astonishment in the vanity mirror, I uttered those soon to be immortal words, "What we need is a day where everyone can piss on a politician's grave!"

Eureka.

The way I see Piss On a Politician's Grave Day working is one day a year as a form of civil disobedience we each choose a heinous politician of the past and shower their headstone with our praise. It would stand as as a reminder to the politicians of the present that what they do today will determine what is thought of them tomorrow.

Personally, I think it should be held the day after each election day.

When the time comes, I'll be the first in line to piss on George "Widiot" Bush's grave—no small feat, mind you, given the number of people likely to vie for that honor. And if he finds that thought sick and disturbing, then maybe he finds the idea of being sent to fight, kill and be killed in a bullshit, fucked up lie of a war cooked up by a bunch of arrogant, ignorant lying-piece-of-shit politicians less so. Maybe someone should ask him.

On a related note, it's worth mentioning that I would both piss and shit on Dick Cheney's grave except that I can't be bothered to drop my pants for that worthless piece of oil money trash.

Of course, I understand that you could probably find a reason to piss on just about any politician's grave. For example, for all the great things Abraham Lincoln did during his time as President, he was the one responsible for starting Federal Income Tax, something which I think we can all agree is pretty heinous. However, I would urge my fellow citizens to consider a politician's complete body of work when deciding whether or not to unzip and unload.

In fact, while some may be surprised by this, I think I'll probably leave Richard Nixon alone. Yeah, he was an arse for Watergate. But wasn't he pissed on enough for that while he was alive? Besides, he and Kissinger did have the vision to open relations with China. And, come on, let's be honest here. Nixon's biggest crime was simply not being that likable. Do you really think Woodward and Bernstein would have pursued the Watergate story so vigorously if Bill Clinton had been behind it? Seriously, people liked Slick Willie so much they actually wanted to believe him when he said oral sex isn't really sex.

At any rate, while I'm sure there will be debate and division over the piss worthiness of some politicians, the graves of others like James Buchanan and Rod Blagojevich will require crowd control to handle the sheer number of people desiring to express their pent up opinions. In fact, it could end up being like a whole other 4th of July complete with outdoor concerts, fireworks shows, and people having picnics and BBQs while waiting their turn—"Hey, Bob, would you mind throwing another burger on the grill while I hit the headstone?"

Of course, it goes without saying there will be a lot of drinking on Piss On a Politician's Grave Day when the beer will be doing as much good going out as it does going in. In fact, given the kind of revenue the beer and alcohol industry stands to gain from all this, I'm counting on them to mobilize their lobbyists en masse and make this holiday happen soon. Sure, there'll be plenty of initial opposition on Capitol Hill. But if there's one thing I know about politicians it's that if you wave enough money in their face, they'll sell you their mother and toss in their dog for free.

If you're reading this and asking what you can do to help move things along, I encourage you to write your representative and promise them that if they make Piss Day a reality you will never, ever piss on their grave. Honest.

Now, in anticipation of the first P. Day, I think I'll go have another drink. Who knows? Maybe genius will strike again. I'm thinking something along the lines of Kick a Bank Executive in the Groin Day. 



Piss On It



I had admired "Mrs. Big Tits" for over six years, ever since we moved into the neighbourhood. She was the woman across the back lane. We moved in on a Friday. Saturday was her daughter's birthday party. The pony escaped from her yard into ours, and my first glimpse of her was chasing the horse, massive mammaries trying to bounce out of a skimpy T-shirt.

We later learned that she was thirty something. Now, she was fortyish. When we first met, she still retained a bit of 'baby fat' from the birth of her son, then two. Since she was still breast feeding the toddler, her breasts were overflowing udders thrusting out through her ubiquitous T-shirts. "Those can't be real," I commented more than once.

My wife replied, "You'll never find out."

"Why don't you ask her for me?"

For some reason, she never did. But talking of the comparison between Mrs. Big Tits and my wife's slim athletic tiny titted figure always inspired her to prove the advantages of athleticism. This typically started with her stroking my cock as I massaged her tits, and then pinched her nipples. My wife would talk me through the fantasy, saying, "I bet her nipples don't get long like mine."

"Yours seem long because your tits are just puffy mounds of baby fat. On her mountains, anything smaller than a pencil would look small."

My wife almost never gave me a total blowjob to orgasm. Half way through, she would get so horny; she would push me back and climb on top, dangling her erect nipples in my face. She would milk my cock with her well maintained abdominals while muttering "I bet Mrs. Big Tits can't do this."

My wife would tease me with her nipples, brushing my forehead, my nose, then around the chin line before allowing me to savour the salty sweetness of her excitement, then she would rear back and pump up and down furiously on my cock, finally collapsing across my body and then slowly luxuriously fucking me in a sliding motion, skin to skin. I would cum twice. Her orgasms were innumerable. At the end I would always say, "Big tits are overrated."

She would answer, "How do you know until you fuck Mrs. Big Tits?"

To which I might say, "You wish. You just want to watch." She would only smile in reply.

Like most people new to a neighbourhood, with kids of similar ages, we socialized a bit with the neighbours. My wife had watched how Mrs. Big Tits flirted not just with me, but with every guest she encountered, sticking her rack almost right in our faces. Thus was born our private nickname for her.

Mrs. Big Tits had a seemingly normal miserable marriage to a hardworking guy a decade older than her. He could often be seen in the lane behind their garage, secretly smoking. On weekends, if we weren't woken by the sounds of her yelling at him, we saw him tinkering in the garage, hiding from her temper.

When we went out to the same dances, or pubs, Mrs. Big Tits ignored her husband, dancing tightly against other women's guys, or, more often, throwing herself at the nearest unattached male. Over time, her son grew, she stopped breast feeding, and the baby fat slimmed away. The tits, however, still remained huge, and cantilevered skyward by engineering miracles from the best bra makers.

Mrs. Big Tits wanted a third child, but hubby wouldn't, so after their son was in school, they acquired a dog, which became a substitute child. Hubby, a perpetual boy himself, played fetch with the retriever. Mrs. Big Tits walked it, her chest bouncing happily announcing her passage down the street. 

Over time, her weirdness rubbed off on her kids, who stopped playing with mine. Though we remained nodding acquaintances sharing a lane, we no longer socialized. Peeping at her wearing bikinis, T-shirts and tight jeans became a guilty secret. My office window looked out over her back yard and kitchen window. Working from home, with a wife who traveled, afforded lots of opportunities. We had long ago agreed that "what happens on the road stays there". We later modified that, as we both loved it when she entertained me with tales of her extracurricular adventures. Many a time, we re enacted the activity. Other times, it was just great phone sex, knowing that we would come together, though we were miles apart. After a while, we added another rule, accepting that as her absences grew, I was entitled to find discrete release as well. I often wondered if her teasing comments about fucking Mrs. Big Tits meant that would be an exception to her 'no fucking people I know' request.

A chance to find out presented itself last fall. My wife was out of town at her aunt's funereal. Both our sons were at school. It was a warm and sunny afternoon. What we used to call "Indian summer" before that became politically incorrect. I had just finished lunch, and was planning a few hours work until the kids got home from school. I made a couple of fortunate mistakes, though. 

First, I signed onto Literotica. 'Just to check the Boards,' I told myself. My wife had been gone a week, though, and before that we hadn't had sex for a few days, the decline of the aunt being not a turn on and all. Inevitably, I turned to the Story Index. My cock began to twitch as I read the best of the Toplist. I found a 'Loving Wives' story about a wife away at a wedding, fucking her ex-husband. My cock throbbed; gaining tumescence as I contemplated how my wife's ex was also at the aunt's funereal. Death can be an aphrodisiac, as the survivors want to prove to themselves that life goes on. Mid life particularly makes us need this assurance. 

Would she fuck the father of her daughter for old times' sake? If not, would she find another hard cock with which to reaffirm life? Maybe her virile nephew, the one we met at the Christmas reunion, the water polo star. She had admired his trim V shaped torso, his solid abs, and his tight glutes. When he asked her to dance, they looked like a perfect jock couple, but for him being 18 and her forty. He tried to manoeuvre her under the mistletoe, but she twirled away. Still, she returned to tell me that it felt like about a ten inch cock surging against her tummy as he held her tight.

Surprisingly, she seemed more taken by his mother, her cousin, who dressed for the festive occasion in a short skirted elf suit which displayed her abundant cleavage, and "horny reindeer antlers". The cousin, recently divorced but with the body of a woman half her age, drank to much punch, and attacked to many husbands lingering around the mistletoe. Finally, she had passed out in the ladies room. My wife had helped the nephew carry her to her room. My wife reported her cousin tried to give her sloppy thank you kiss, but ended up kissing the great white telephone instead. I could only hope that the cousin's passions were not dimmed by the funereal.

Images of my wife, who claimed to be straight, with her face buried in her cousin's pussy while the nephew fucked her from behind danced through my brain so strongly I could see which of the cousin's garters were snapped and which had come loose. Like a slide show advancing, this alternated with thoughts of the two women, similar enough to be twins, double headering the rigid cock, each tongue twisting, occasionally twirling together. Their tiny tits would harden. Nipples would extend, brushing each other. Then, one mouth would slide over the top of the cock. The other would suckle a testicle. Female fingers would trace curves down womanly bodies, caressing breasts, a strange yet familiar sensation. They would experience similar feelings upon sliding fingers into wet pussies, so used to touch their own, so hesitant to touch another. They would swap positions, their thighs entwined. In my mind, it became a puzzle as to where one body ended and the next began. Once the nephew was hard again, he would fuck his mother to multiple orgasms as she licked cum out of my wife's soggy cunt.

Thinking of my loving wife enjoying such pleasure made my cock swell harder. Soon I was standing at the window, sipping a cup of tea held in one hand, stroking my erect cock with the other. 'Where would she fuck?' I wondered, 'will they be at the same motel? Might there even be a little incestuous mini orgy with the ex added?'

That last image caused my balls to tighten up into my crotch. My wife in a threesome with her cousin and her ex while the nephew rested would be very special. My mind flashed on images of her sucking his cock, then guiding it into her cousin's blond thatched pussy, with cuz lapping at her pussy. Visualizing what her cousin's ripe tits would look like – no tan lines, topped with thumb like pink nipples-got me very excited. My free hand stroked my shaft rapidly.

A noise outside startled me from my reverie. I looked out the window. There, standing outside her garage, was Mrs. Big Tits, staring up at my window. She was watching my prurient display. From the hundred feet that separated us, I could only hope that she was enjoying the exhibitionism. Perhaps I was not the only voyeur sharing our lane? Perhaps I only imagined that I could see her rock hard nubs tenting her T-shirt, her tongue flicking out across her puffy red lips. It was no guess about eye contact though. She held my gaze, returning it with laserlike heat. Oddly, this paused my efforts short of orgasm. The reality of my sexuality confronting this 'guilty pleasure' neighbour proved distracting and stimulating. The distraction won the first round, my handful shrinking before her eyes. Finally, still grinning she bent over to chat with the dog. Her magnificent chest wobbled invitingly. Although my cock trembled in response, she did not stay to watch, instead treating me to the sight of her taut butt flouncing into her fenced yard, the dog following behind.

I stood still, finishing my tea, images of Mrs. Big Tits alternating with fantasies of my wife acting wayward. My cock swelled to record lengths. 'Well, I guess it's now or never,' I told myself. 

Gently, I placed the teacup on my desk. I paused, thinking of work, letting my cock soften so I could tuck it awkwardly into my cords. I glanced at the clock. A solid hour until it was time to pick up the kids. I set my watch alarm to remind me in half an hour.

I breathed deeply, skipping down the stairs. I paused, breathed again, took a ten count. I would have sprinted out the back door otherwise, which would have been overly eager. As I collected my thoughts, I resolved that, with Mrs. Big Tits, I would take firm control. She was a toy, not a person, merely an object to be used. The reality of her possibly resenting this, and setting hubby on me, never crossed my mind until afterwards. By then, I knew she wanted a man who treated her with rough loving.

By the time I walked out the door, down the steps and into the yard, she was wrestling with the garage door. The dog was no longer in sight. 

"Can I help you with that?"

She turned, startled by my voice. "Oh, hi, neighbour. I thought you were busy. Thanks." She was grinning. I registered the glint in her humid green eyes, but inevitably, gravity dragged my gaze down to her tits. She was used to it. She liked it. Her eyes also traveled south. My cock responded to her gaze, restoring itself to rigidity. Her nipples were even more erect than normal. They seemed to be about to pierce the fabric of her shirt. I was about to discover the secrets behind her amazing architecture. Before that, she said, "Does that bulge mean you didn't finish what you were doing up there?"

"Just what do you think I was doing?"

I stepped closer, lifting the door. She instinctively backed into the garage, stepping into the vacant space left while hubby had his truck at work.

"It was disgusting, doing that at the window. What if some preschooler saw you?"

"No one can see into that window but you. You didn't look disgusted."

I reached back, sliding the garage door shut. Limited light filtered in through a pair of side windows. Dust motes danced in sunbeams, creating a romance novel atmosphere. I waited.

"What made your gorgeous cock so hard, thinking of me?"

"I knew you liked it. But don't be such a bitch. Not everything is about you. I was pleasuring myself thinking about my wife, when your peeping at me ruined the moment. Do you look in my window a lot?"

She blushed crimson, the colour rushing up from her deeply exposed cleavage to her neck and finally her face. Yet she still had spirit. "Yeah, I bet you were imagining your wife. She's such a slut I bet she's screwing half the guys at her aunt's funereal."

"I hope she is. I guess you're just jealous because she has such firm girlish tits that will respond to those guys' lips by puffing up like a teenager's, reminding them of first dates in old Chevys. Or is the reason you stare at our windows a secret bi passion, a desire to taste her yourself?"

"Oh, piss off."

"No, I think I'd rather piss on- on you that is."

"What!?"

"Never played watersports?"

"What sort of woman do you think I am?"

"A repressed wannabe tart married to a white bread guy that won't dare try anything new. Now take off that shirt."

Up to that point, water sports had never been a sexual game I planned to play. Perhaps it was her haughty attitude. Or just the hot tea finding its way to my bladder, sending confusing signals to my poor prostate, making it unsure whether to pump blood to an erection or keep the urinary tract clear.

Mrs. Big Tits opened her mouth, as if to protest. I held a finger to her lips. "Shhh. You wouldn't want your meal ticket knowing how you stare up at my cock, would you? The only way to keep the gravy train rolling is to actually taste ALL the glories my tool produces. But first, show me your tits."

She hesitated only a moment. I held my eyes on her face. Maybe the fact I met her gaze rather than shifting down back to staring at her chest convinced her I was serious. She crossed her arms, which pushed her tits tight against each other, swelling into the "vee" of the shirt, threatening to spill out. Grabbing the hem on each side, she lifted it above her melons, pausing a second as it caught on her nose, or hair, or that religious medal hanging around her neck. My first question was answered. She wore an uplift bra after all. However, contrary to what some thought, it was not padded, nor an air or gel filled enhancing job. Her erect nipples greeted me through a lovely cornflower blue lace etched in a floral design. They nodded vigourously as her breathing became panting. My nose no longer noticed the musty oiliness of the garage, instead enjoying the unmistakable scent of a woman in heat. 

"You better take off those damp panties too," I added as the shirt popped over her head. Once again, there was a brief hesitation. A look flitted through her eyes as if she was about to protest, then with a sigh she dropped her shirt to the cement floor, and slowly undid the button at the top of her jeans. Her hips began undulating, in a 'strip tease' rhythm. The raw smell of her wetness now filled the garage. I registered as if from a distance, like watching a movie, that her pants had a button fly. She unfastened each button with deliberate patience, her eyes locked on mine. If she had grinned, my vow to never strike women expect in play would be shattered. Her mouth however hung open slackly, gasping for oxygen, as her brain struggled in vain to process the messages from her libido.

The waist of the jeans hung slack, revealing too cute girlish white bikini panties topped with a fringe of blue to match the bra. I was not surprised to see a few moments later that in the corner of the left groin, there was a design of cornflower blue daisies. By now, her pants were loose around her undulating hips. Her eyes stared not at my face, but at my crotch. My cock remained semi tumescent.

"Let me guess. You're hoping I'll be to hard too piss all over you."

"What?"

"If a guy is rigid, his urinary tract pinches shut. Many are the nights I lose sleep waiting for an erection to calm so I can void my bladder. On too many of them, I prolong the journey by watching out a window for a glimpse of you. I keep imagining you naked in your kitchen."

Mrs. Big Tits' pants slid to the floor. She kicked them across the concrete to a corner. Her shoes and socks were caught up in the pants. She stood before me in seductive lingerie, feet at shoulder width, hands on hips, her breathing rapid, her tits heaving heavenward.

"Heavenly," I muttered, thinking aloud.

"Show me you cock now."

"I already told you to take off the panties next."

A pout flashed across her lips, but my stare never wavered. She stuck a thumb in each side of the panties and tugged with force, popping the seams. "Do you want these as a trophy?"

"Just throw them in the corner."

Mrs. Big Tits did not shyly hide her cunt behind her hands. Her blonde bush was naturally lush, the hair darkened to the colour of caramel by childbirth. She stood with hands on hips, breathing deeply, her tits heaving, waiting for more. "Will hubby notice the torn panties, or does he create a lot of those himself?"

"By wearing them you mean? He seldom notices much about me. And I have lots of panties. One more pair in his rag bag won't matter." Her hands slid up her flanks, caressing her smooth porcelain flesh. Despite the two kids, she had the skin of a much younger woman. My eyes were now drawn by her motion to the main prize. The moment of truth was upon us. She cupped each bra encased boob in a hand, not hefting them like melons, more of a pre-orgasmic caress of close friends.

I became the aggressor. Stepping closely enough to feel the humidity of her breath, I reached behind her with both arms. Miraculously, I did not fumble at all as I held the back strap steady with my left hand while undoing the clasp with my right. Mrs. Big Tits leaned in closely, the jasmine scent of her hair tickling my nose. Her bra remained in place crushed between us. My hands caressed her back as if they had minds of their own, first sliding down to tease the top of her butt, then playing her spine like a saxophone. That made her giggle, then sigh. Our body heat commingled, her odour masking my acidic sweatiness. I released her and stepped back. Her chin was titled down, submissively. Her arms were crossed, the bra still crushed, hiding her final secrets. Silently, she slowly sank to her knees before me.

"Oh, please just piss on me. Treat me like the slut I am, she moaned.

"I want you to take my cock out and aim it where you want my piss." I knew in doing so, she must uncover those tits. I was rewarded as the bra flapped to the floor. I paid no heed to her fingers unzipping me. I was barely aware as she extracted my chubby member and pulled me a half step closer. I was still staring at her magnificent cherry nippled natural melons as Mrs. Big Tits dropped my trousers. She stimulated my prostate with a finger, causing my bladder to release a torrent of warm urine. The stream poured through her long blonde hair, anointing her forehead, nose, cheeks and mouth. Piss ran down her neck, coating her shoulders, soaking her medallion, and then cascading across the mounds of her boobs. The two tributaries reunited in the valley of her cleavage, where the stream slowed and lost strength before draining across her firm wide tummy towards the floor. 

She held my cock above her head, tilting back to raise her face in supplication. She directed the final flow of urine into her open mouth. I watched her tongue collect stray droplets off her lips. The action of her fist pumping the last piss out of my organ added to the erotic atmosphere. Free from the bladder pressure, my prostate responded predictably; drawing my balls tight within their sac and stiffening my rod.

Mrs. Big Tits shook the damp hair from her face, spraying a fine golden mist into the air. She tugged me forward by the handle, her stroking now unquestionably a hand job. Her tongue snaked out, teasing the damp tip of my cock, taking a final drop. She speared the slit of the cockhead, rotating her tongue gently, then drawing back, Next, she ran the flat of her tongue along the base of the helmet, and then encircled the purple flesh. Finally, after building the anticipation, she drew me into her mouth for the first time. Her tongue did not stop moving. Once she swallowed the first few inches, she used the edge of her tongue to roll around the ridge below the head, inspiring greater girth. My balls felt so solid I was sure they were about to explode. She bobbed hungrily twice swallowing my length into her throat, and then pulled back for air.




Piss On It



As she paused, she said, "I've never felt so alive. Hubby would never treat me so well, so horribly. Plus, he lacks a cock like yours. I wouldn't ever bother licking his pee hole. If I did, he'd be so shocked he'd either cum right away, or shrivel up into a midget peanut. I think you might spoil me with this monster of yours. May I swallow your cum?"

"First, I want to...."

"...fuck my tits. I know, just like all the boys."

As we talked, Mrs. Big Tits was stroking my shaft. Precum was seeping out where the pee had flowed moments before. Rising up on her haunches, she rolled the helmet along each nipple in turn, and then without breaking eye contact, slid it between her breasts. Only then did she release it, in order to push the flesh of her tits around my shaft. She continued to do the work, bouncing up and down in her crouch, causing flesh to slide along flesh. My wife's A cup bumps lacked the capacity for titfucking. I had titfucked a few large breasted women, but their flesh had been doughy, and it felt like fucking a pillow. Fucking Mrs. Big Tits' namesakes was not like fucking a pussy either. They were slick with urine and sweat, but lacked the lubrication otherwise, and the muscles did not milk me like a cunt might. Her hands however provided plenty of pressure, and the flesh rubbing on mine was warm and firm.

Her breathing quickened as she bobbed her head down, teasing the tip of my cock with her tongue. Her cheeks reddened to match the friction burns on her cleavage. "I'm about to cum. Please anoint me," she panted. Once again, her finger pierced my anal ring. This time, the prostate stimulating brought forth a great flood of cream. Mrs. Big Tits pulled my pulsing cock out of the valley of her boobs, catching as much of my offering as possible in her mouth. The surplus spilled over her lower lip, running down her chin. As she pumped me dry, more flowed across her lovely orbs. Finally I was spent. She released my limp cock, and then massaged the cum into her flesh.

"Fresh sperm is the best breast cream. It's the one good thing hubby's cum was handy for except impregnating me," she said, laughing joyfully. As she spoke, my watch beeped. We were both startled out of our cocoon of fantasy." Damn, I wanted your cock up my cunt. Its years since I took one so big and thick. Some day, we can even see if it will fit up my ass, though I think it is bigger than I've ever taken there."

I grabbed a pressure hose from the garage wall to wash the urine puddle and bits of stray cum off the floor. Mrs. Big Tits however showed that she was not yet finished being perverse. "Spray me, baptize me. Wash my sluttiness clean. Make me a born again Mom." She was still kneeling on the floor, but threw her arms wide in a crucifixion pose. I turned the hose on her, the full force of water knocking her back onto her heels, her soaked hair flying wildly as she twisted in the spay. Her wet nipples stuck out even more than before. She opened her mouth, the hard stream making her gap. As she spewed water back out, her breathing became panting. She collapsed on the floor quivering. I didn't need to be told that she had just shivered through a strong orgasm. Waves still rippled through her body, centered on her clit. Her fingers grazed across her loins. She stared up at my reinvigorated cock.

"I'd love that up my ass, but there's no time. How about same time tomorrow?"

"Love to but my wife arrives at the airport then."

"How about tomorrow morning just after the kids leave to school? Hubby is working."

"Ok, but if you want that, you need to earn it. Tonight, about 11, after everyone is asleep, masturbate in the kitchen. I'll stand at the window again." She quickly agreed.

I drove to pick up the kids from school, thinking of how I would call my wife, put the phone on hands free, and treat her to a play by play of that adventure. 



Piss on the Bride



I've never written anything like this before, but I was encouraged by some friends of mine. Because of my line of work, I'm always telling crazy stories. My best friend Mark suggested I start writing them down, so now I'm sharing them with you. I thought I'd start with one of my most bizarre stories and see how it goes. So, without further ado, let me introduce myself. My name is Ryan, and I'm a male stripper. 

I love my job. I really do. I've always been a bit of an exhibitionist; always wanting to show off my body, so it's a good fit. A little bit about me: I'm 6'1, short brown hair, brown eyes, and athletic. I'm actually pretty fair skinned as far as strippers go. I've never been able to tan very well. Being a stripper means maintaining a pristine physique. It's actually a lot of work. I work out a lot and mostly stick to a strict diet. I may not have bulging muscles, but I have great abs and everything else is kept pretty tight.

I don't strip in a club or anything. I'm not a fucking Chip and Dale. I exclusively do parties. This means that I do a lot of birthdays and bachelorette parties. People pay extra for private parties. Just one show will pay my rent for the month and leave me with plenty left over. The story I'm about to tell you happened at a bachelorette party. 

"But, Ryan, you're telling me that something interesting happened with a bunch of horny, drunk girls sitting in a room with a naked stripper?" I know. Seems obvious, right? Wrong! So fucking wrong. Not in a million years would you guess what I had to do at this party.

I didn't have a clue what I was in for either when I first arrived. All I knew going in was that there was going to be five women and that I might be asked to do a little something extra. The maid of honor was the one who had called me to set everything up. I told her I could possibly do something extra, but I would need to charge more. I'm not above doing things like that. I don't exactly whore myself out to whoever, but I will do it every so often. In fact, you would be surprised how many soon-to-be wives sleep with strippers during their bachelorette parties. Most people think that only men do that, but women are just as guilty.

The maid of honor told me that she was perfectly willing to pay whatever I wanted. So, I overcharged her a little, but I'm glad I did. Looking back, I probably could have charged her more.

I walked into the lobby of a very nice hotel around 11:00. The maid of honor recognized me from my ad photo and walked over to greet me. She was very attractive. Her body was kind of petite looking and she had pretty small tits, but she had the most wonderfully shaped ass; so round and firm that you just want to reach out and palm it in your hand. Her hair was one of those shades that's not quite red but not quite brown, and she was wearing a tight dress that cut off around mid-thigh, showing off a set of shapely legs.

"Are you Benjamin?" she asked.

"That's me," I said. No, I don't have a ridiculous stripper name. No, Benjamin is not my real name. The guy who got me into the business told me to go with Benjamin. He said it was a classy name and women would love it. He wasn't wrong.

The maid of honor took me upstairs. They had rented out two conjoined rooms for the night. She took me into one that was empty so I could get ready. I gave her the stereo I had brought with my music on it so she could go set it up. I use the same CD for every party I do for about six months before I switch to another one. While I was preparing, I could hear loud voices from the other room. They were all laughing and having a good time. That always makes my job easier. About ten minutes later, the maid of honor poked her head in to tell me that they were ready for me. I could tell that she was excited for the show by the tone of her voice. 

I walked into the other room wearing a business suit and glasses. Like I said, women like a touch of class. The break-away dress pants I was wearing may have made it slightly less classy. The women all started cheering and whistling when I walked in. They were all visibly plastered, especially the bride-to-be. 

I don't know if you've ever been to a bachelorette party or not, but there are, one hundred percent of the time, penises absolutely everywhere. There are penis-shaped glasses, penis hats, penis cakes, penis popsicles, penis ice cube trays.... Any novelty item that you could normally find in a party section of a store has a penis counterpart somewhere made for bachelorette parties. And, of course, the hotel room was chock-full of them. The bride was actually wearing a veil with tiny plastic penises attached to it.

I did a quick scan of the room, looking over all the horny, penis-lollypop eating women who sat in a semi-circle around the room. I was surprised to see that they were all pretty young. Not one of them could have been older than twenty three. I was twenty seven at the time, so it was always nice to be performing for someone closer to my own age for a change. More often than not, my clients are forty year olds having their "over the hill" birthday party. Don't get me wrong, I love mature women, but it's nice to switch things up every now and then.

Two of the girls sat on a couch together. One was a pretty brunette and the other was a blonde wearing entirely too much make-up. The maid of honor was sitting on the arm of a chair. And, in that chair, was a conservatively dressed blonde woman who didn't look too thrilled to see me walk in the room. As it turns out, she was the groom's sister. The groom's family was all very religious and she didn't seem to be very comfortable with the idea of watching her brother's wife with a stripper.

In the center of the room, sitting in an armless chair, was the bride to be. She was something else. She had dark brown hair and light blue eyes that tore at me like she was a fucking lioness. She was drunk and horny, which is always a good combination for me. I tilted my glasses down, looking over the lenses to make it clear I was checking out her body. This girl was stacked. A large pair of double d's were stuffed into her dress, leaving plenty of cleavage for me to see. She crossed one leg over the other making her dress ride up a little. She had some thick thighs too. Whoever built her put all the right parts in all the best places.

"So, I hear that Melany is getting married next week," I said. The girls cheered, and I started my show. I'll stick to telling you the key points of the show. I did my usual routine. I started off with a strip tease, going down to what is essentially a speedo, then I straddled the bride and gave her a sort of lap dance. 

She got pretty handsy, but that's normal for what I do. Female strippers have the no touching rule, but male strippers usually don't. That's what the women pay for. They want to touch. At one point, I did have to pull her hand out from my pants. It's important to keep pace with these sorts of things. After giving the bride her lap dance, I went around the room, grinding on the other girls. They were all getting into it, except for the groom's sister. The other girls and I tried to encourage her on, but she was pretty stiff. I continued on with the show, doing my usual moves and saying my usual lines. It was a pretty good time all around. 

I've worked a lot of bachelorette parties. I've gone to a few bachelor parties myself. I can tell you from experience that, when there's a stripper, bachelorette parties are much, MUCH filthier than bachelor parties, and I'm going to show you why. It all starts when the cock comes out. Once they see the dick, women at bachelorette parties transform into turbo-sluts. 

I did a few moves to show off, before heading right into the good stuff. These girls seemed like they didn't need any more anticipation. So, I did a special trick of mine where I swing my cock back and forth and make it hard without using my hands. The girls fucking loved that. And, being an exhibitionist, I loved knowing that they were all staring at my rock hard dick. I'm about seven inches, so I've never been shy about putting myself out there.

It was time for the real fun to begin. There was fire in the girls' eyes and they looked hungry for cock. This is where the key difference between bachelorette parties and bachelor parties comes out. A bachelorette party is often quite interactive. What happens if a party reaches this point is I start some more aggressive dancing. This involves things like rubbing my dick right on the girls' faces, or putting myself between their legs and dry humping them. Like I said, aggressive. Sometimes, the girls grab me and stroke my cock. Sometimes, only if I'm absolutely sure they want it, I let them suck on it a little. This is all relatively standard. Like I said, when the cock comes out, women transform.

So, I began my trek around the room once again. Based on how things were going so far, I was sure that all of these girls were going to want to suck on my cock a little, and I couldn't have been more right. The blonde on the couch took me into her mouth first while the brunette watched and ran her hands over my ab muscles. The girls all cheered each other on as they each took a turn sucking on my cock. They didn't care that they were doing this right in front of their friends. In fact, I think that aspect is appealing to a lot of women. When it came to be her turn, the maid of honor looked up at me with devious eyes. She gulped down my cock and did some amazing trick with her tongue on the underside it. I know several techniques to keep from cumming, and I was thankful for every single one just then.

I got to the groom's sister once again, and she was still resistant. So, I walked right up beside the chair she was sitting in and placed my fat cock on her shoulder. The girls all cheered her on enthusiastically. She looked like she didn't even want to be in the room, but I could tell that she also wanted that cock. She was trying to fight it, but, with how much they had been drinking and with my thick member sitting right on her shoulder, her will broke. She tentatively took me into her mouth for a little bit before she started laughing and playfully pushed me away. At least I got her to loosen up and start having a good time.

Finally, it was time for the big finally – the bride. I decided to give these girls a big finish. I stood the bride up off of her chair, turned her around and bent her over. With her hands on the seat of her chair, I dry humped her forcefully, getting a big response from the other girls. The bride loved it and started twerking her thick ass as I mock fucked her. She made quite the sight from my view. Next I straightened her up again, reached around her, and grabbed her huge tits in my hands, giving them a quick shake. The maid of honor whistled as the bride's hefty tits shook in her dress.

Then it was time for the biggest crowd pleaser I had. I spun her around so that she was facing me. Then, with one arm around her waist and one arm around her shoulder, I lifted her up and spun her so that she was upside down, moving my arms around her waist to hold her up. It takes a lot of strength to do that, but I managed to pull it off perfectly so that her face was directly lined up with my cock. The bride caught on quickly. She hugged herself close to me and started sucking on my cock upside down. All of the girls, even the groom's sister, watched wide eyed and cheered. 

The bride was aggressively sucking my cock, taking as much of me as she could handle. Then came the part I had been looking forward to. With her legs up in the air, I could see right up (or down rather) the bride's short dress. She was wearing a black thong underneath. Aiming directly into her crotch, I buried my face into the fabric of her panties and shook my head from side to side. She was soaking wet, but I continued to shake my head between her legs, my nose stuffed into the bottom of her ass crack and my mouth pressing right into her mound. Her dress had come up quite a ways, exposing most of her ass to the rest of the room. That just made the girls cheer that much more, watching her ass shake in her black thong while she sucked on my cock.

I continued to hold her until my arms began to grow tired. Then I quickly spun her right side up, slapped her on the ass, and let her gently fall back onto her chair once again. She looked worn out and disoriented as she sat, disheveled in her seat of honor.

"Cum on her face!" I heard the maid of honor yell. Thank God for that girl. Cumming during a show is a big no-no unless it's explicitly agreed upon. As my show is normally a big tease, I usually don't get to cum, which means I have to take care of myself later. But, these girls wanted to see some cum. So, with the bride sitting in a heap on her chair, her dress still riding up, I put a leg on either side of her chair, pumped my cock in my hand, and quickly shot a big load onto the bride's face. All of the other girls crowded around to see. The bride looked up at me, smiling and dripping with cum; a good end to a good show.

Now, some of you may be thinking that the girls sucking my dick and me shooting a load on the bride's face was the little something extra that the maid of honor had paid for. You'd be wrong. Everything that happened during that show is normally included. It's optional, but it's included. Like I said, private parties pay pretty well. Also like I said, bachelorette parties are much filthier than bachelor parties. I gathered my things, thanked the girls, and went back into the other room to get dressed. From the other room, I heard the girls moving around and heard several go out the door. I put my underwear back on, sat on one of the beds, and waited. The extra that the maid of honor had paid for was undoubtedly sex. It always is. Generally, when I agree to do this, it usually involves taking the bride into a private room and making sure I give her at least three orgasms or so. So, I just waited there for the bride to come in.

It was about ten minutes later before the door opened. I expected to see the big-titted bride walk in, but was surprised when it was the maid of honor. She looked at me and waved me back into the other room. I followed her, curious as to what she had in mind.

When I got back into the main room, it had emptied out.

"Where did everyone go?" I asked.

"Tammy, Karen, and Melissa went down to the bar," she said. "Melany is waiting for you in the bathroom."

"In the bathroom?" Why the hell did she want me in the bathroom? The maid of honor led the way and I followed her into the bathroom. It was a good sized room with nice tile floor. Sitting in the middle of the floor, completely naked, was the bride. She had her legs spread wide and was slowly fingering herself. That same lioness look was spread across her face as she looked at me.

"Stripper," she said, clearly drunk, "get over here and eat my pussy." This all seemed a little strange, but who was I to refuse. I walked over to the bride and lay down with my head between her meaty thighs. I looked up at her and could just barely see her eyes over her giant tits. Over my shoulder, I noticed that the maid of honor had closed the door behind her. She was staying in the room with us. Did that mean they wanted a threesome?

I lowered my head down and started going to work on the bride's pussy. Her pubic hair was shaved into a thin strip that stopped an inch above her puffy lips. She instantly started moaning. She must have been halfway to cumming before I even walked into the room based on the way she writhed beneath my tongue. She was incredibly responsive as I expertly licked her.

After several minutes, I thought that she was getting close to cumming. Then I was suddenly distracted by a hand on my leg. It slowly caressed its way up my body all the way up to my shoulder. That's when the maid of honor came back into my field of vision. She had taken off all of her clothes. I could see her small, perky tits and a small patch of not-quite-red hair between her legs. Her hand didn't stop once it left my shoulder. It made its way to the bride's thigh and continued upwards. 

The maid of honor kneeled beside her friend and lowered her mouth down onto the bride's right breast. She opened her mouth wide and began sucking on it, flicking the nipple with her tongue. The bride's response was immediate as she quickly accelerated towards cumming. I increased my licking as I watched the maid of honor suck the bride's tit into her mouth.

"Yes! Yes!" the bride panted. Then she gasped and her body jerked. "Oh shit. I'm cumming. I'm cumming!" She started bucking her hips up into my face and grabbed the back of her maid of honor's head, moving it up and down on her tit like she was getting a blowjob. She cried out as her orgasm rocked her body. Then she stopped moving, shaking slightly on the cool bathroom tile.

The maid of honor detached herself from the huge tit and I moved myself up the bride's body. She wrapped her arms around my shoulders and began kissing my chest and neck. I flexed my muscles as she ran her hands over them. She was still panting from the powerful orgasm, but I managed to hear her say,

"I want you to pee in my butt." I laughed. I had heard that expression before, but only from men. If you've never heard it before, I'll explain. Some guys will say "I'd tap that." Others say "I'd stick it in her pooper." And then, mostly for a laugh, some guys will say, "I'd pee in her butt." 

"What's so funny?" said the bride as she continued to kiss my body.

"Oh, nothing. Just hearing you say that." I thought that this drunken bride had just had a few too many drinks. However, she stopped kissing me, grabbed my face and looked directly into my eyes with a serious expression on her face.

"I mean this in the most literal way possible," she said carefully so that there was no misunderstanding. "I want you to stick your cock up my butt and piss inside of me." Well, there was no wrong way to interpret that. I looked at the maid of honor who just smiled back at me, then I looked back at the bride sprawled out underneath me.

"You're serious," I said. "You mean.... I thought that was just an expression."

"Where do you think the expression came from?" said the bride, smiling. 

"You seriously want me to... to piss in your ass?" I said.

"Next week, Melany is getting married to a guy named Gary," said the maid of honor. "Gary is a great guy, but he's such a fucking prude."

"It's true," said the bride. "He won't even fuck me with the lights on."

"This is the last chance she's going to have to really get nasty the way she likes for a while," said the maid of honor. Then she put on a pouty voice. "Can you please do this for her?" I thought for a few seconds.

"I.... I, ummm.... Ok," I said, still baffled. I surprised myself by agreeing to doing this so quickly.

The bride squealed in excitement. She crawled out from under me and flipped over into a doggystyle position, sticking her big ass up in the air. "Erin, get him hard for me," she said. The maid of honor stood me up and pulled my underwear down. Then she got down on her knees and took me into her mouth. This sudden turn of events had me pretty shocked. I had never pissed on a girl before, let alone inside her ass.

The maid of honor started working my dick in her mouth, occasionally doing that thing she had done with her tongue earlier. She was quite an enthusiastic little cocksucker. Down on the floor, the bride was spreading lube across her asshole. Then she started fingering her ass, working the lube inside. Just watching her tight hole swallow her finger was getting me very hard. The maid of honor stopped sucking.

"He's nice and hard," she said.

"Good," said the bride. Her breathing was getting heavy from all the anticipation. "Stick it in my ass, stripper boy."




Piss on the Bride



I got down on my knees behind her and pressed my cock up against her puckered asshole. With the combination of the lube on the bride's ass and the maid of honor's saliva all over my cock, I slid inside her ass pretty easily. She had clearly been fucked there plenty of times before. She groaned deeply as my fat dick stretched her out. The maid of honor had taken position beside her. With one hand, she was playing with the bride's big tits. With the other, she was rubbing the bride's clit.

"Oooo yeah. Fuck me in the ass," said the bride. I thrust into her repeatedly, increasing my force and speed as I went. The bride was taking me like a pro. I actually began to wonder if she had ever done porn. Her ass was taking anything I threw at it.

In no time at all, I was fucking her up the butt nice and hard. Her ass was bouncing off of my cock and shaking violently. With the maid of honor's hands working underneath her, the bride was moaning and squealing, just begging for me to fuck her harder and harder. Then she started to tighten up a little.

"Uuungggh. More lube," said the bride. I slipped out of her ass, looking around for the bottle of lube. Instead, the maid of honor took me back into her mouth, giving me an extra sloppy blow job. She wasn't holding back, despite the fact that my cock had just been deep inside her friend's asshole. When my dick was thoroughly slicked up again, she guided me back into the bride's ass and I recommenced pounding her.

I'm not going to lie, it felt wonderful. I was in a fairly uncomfortable situation overall. I wasn't sure about peeing on this girl, and I didn't fully know what was expected of me, but it all felt so good.

After several minutes of intense anal, the bride decided to change positions. As my cock slipped out of her ass, I saw her hole remain gaped open. I had done anal before, but I had never been with a girl who could gape like that. Her ass looked so deep, like it could take anything at that moment. 

The bride stepped into the tub and got on her knees. I had just started to wonder what she was doing when I heard her say,

"Erin, piss on me." Oh, so I wasn't the only one that was going to be pissing. The maid of honor climbed into the tub with the bride. She pulled the lever above the water faucet to cover the drain. She didn't want a single drop to be wasted down the drain. She stood over the bride with her legs on either side of her. The maid of honor bent her knees a little and aimed her pussy out towards the bride. Then she started peeing. It wasn't a small stream like you would imagine. The maid of honor must have been holding it in all night, and now she was pushing it all out in a torrent of piss that shot onto the chest of the bride and cascaded down her smooth body. The bride scooped her tits into her hands, making sure they got covered with her friend's piss.

It's hard for me to imagine, but she was getting all kinds of sexual pleasure from being used as a toilet. The warm fluid sent shivers of ecstasy across her skin. The piss continued to spatter onto her chest and the bride opened her mouth and sampled some of it for herself. I've done a lot of crazy things in my life, but, at that exact moment, I realized that these girls were on a whole different level from me. That was strange as I had become used to the idea of being the more experienced one when it came to having sex. Watching the maid of honor piss on the bride, I kind of wanted just to get the hell out of there, but something about the whole devious act had me captivated.

The maid of honor seemed to piss forever. The bride was getting absolutely drenched in her hot pee. She began panting loudly as the sensation continued to get her off. Finally, the last drops of piss escaped the maid of honor's pussy. She moved closer and closer as she finished, making sure it all landed on the bride. When there was no more piss, the bride grabbed onto the maid of honor's ass and shoved her face into her pussy, lapping at it like a hungry dog. The maid of honor moaned in a high pitched voice as she got her pussy eaten. I thought she was going to cum, but the bride suddenly stopped, denying her friend her orgasm. 

The bride turned to look at me, a devilish smile across her wet face.

"Your turn," she said. With that, the maid of honor stepped out of the tub. The bride then got on her back and rolled backwards, keeping her shoulders on the floor of the tub so that her ass and her back were sticking straight up in the air. She grabbed the backs of her knees and pulled them down towards her face. I had never had sex with a girl in this position. In fact, I had only ever seen it in pornos.

I eagerly took my place. I got into the tub, stepping into a shallow pool of warm piss, and lowered myself down to her waiting ass. Standing over her, I bent my cock downwards and stuffed it into her waiting ass. In this position, her ass was wide open and I slid in very easily. I began thrusting down into her. The maid of honor sat down on the floor of the bathroom and began vigorously fingering herself. Having her there to watch was making me so hot. I loved her eyes as they devoured me whole while she masturbated. I looked down at the bride as she took the hard pounding I was giving her. Her tits were smacking her in the face in this position, but I think she actually liked that.

"Oh yeah! Ride that ass!" she yelled. "Ride me hard. Treat me like a filthy whore."

Listening to her friend moan and scream was making the maid of honor wet. She stood up and moved right next to us, standing just outside the tub. She continued to plunge her fingers into her wet cunt. She was dripping with pussy juice and I could hear her fingers sloshing in the puddle that was now her pussy. She was really giving it to herself, forcing her fingers in deep and fast. Then her mouth shot open and she began fucking herself as fast as she could.

"Oh my God! I'm going to cum!" she yelled. As she continued to furiously fuck herself, she lifted one leg up onto the side of the tub and rotated her hips forward, aiming her pussy down towards the bride.

"Holy shit! Here it comes!" she continued to cry out. Then she pulled her fingers out of her pussy and braced herself. "Oh my God!" she screamed at the top of her lungs As it turns out, the maid of honor was a squirter. Her pussy erupted as she came all over the bride. Her girl-cum went everywhere, covering the bride and even splashing a little up onto my chest. She could barely control herself, and when she stopped squirting she became so wobbly that I thought she might fall over. Instead, she managed to brace herself using my shoulder. She clung to me as I continued to fuck the bride. She continued to shake from the prolonged orgasm, almost fully supporting herself on me.

The bride looked up at me over her big tits as they continued to flop here and there. Her face was shining from piss and her friend's cum. From the expression on her face, you would have thought she was in heaven.

"Pee in my butt," she said. It was finally time. Her asshole was thoroughly gaped, ready to be filled with my piss. I ceased my thrusting, my cock still inside of her. I was still a little uncomfortable with this, but a little excited as well. It took a few moments for me to start going, but soon I felt the urine flowing out of my cock and into her ass. I sighed as the warm liquid left my cock.

"Oooooooooooh fuck yeah," said the bride beneath me. "Oh shit. Fill me up." She started rubbing her clit and I could tell she was going to cum soon. Piss was the ultimate aphrodisiac for her. It continued to steadily flow out of me and I actually got a little pleasure knowing that I was filling her up. It was like I was giving her an enema with my cock. She was taking a lot into her ass, and I still had quite a lot left. Then I started to wonder how much her ass could actually hold inside.

No sooner had I thought that than I felt the bride's body contract a little. Piss began to overflow out of her ass. I felt it flow over my balls as it washed across her big, smooth ass cheeks. It made its way down her body, dripping down onto her tits and face below. She began rubbing her clit harder as my piss dripped down into her open mouth.

"Oh fuck! Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck! I'm cumming!" she screamed, rubbing her clit faster and plunging a couple of fingers inside herself. The piss continued to drench her as she started to shake from a powerful orgasm. Her ass tightened around my cock so hard that I was pushed out of her. I was still pissing, so I aimed it directly into her face. Large waves of my pee began to flow from her ass as she pushed it out. It all ran down her body, adding intense pleasure to her orgasm.

The maid of honor had regained some energy at this point. As soon as I was done pissing on the bride's face, she grabbed ahold of my cock and began pumping it in her hand. I looked down at the bride as she continued to feel the after effects of her orgasm. It had been so strong I thought she might pass out. The maid of honor stroked me hard until I felt the cum begin to stir deep within my balls.

The maid of honor aimed my cock down at the bride and I began to shoot a huge load down onto her. Ropes of cum splattered across the back of her thighs and her ass. Several made it down onto her huge tits and even onto her face. I was shooting cum all over her. And then, it was done. The maid of honor smiled up at me as my erection slowly diminished in her hand. She licked a few stray drops of cum that had landed on the back of her hand.

I couldn't help but admire what a dedicated friend she was to the bride. She didn't even seem to really be into the whole pissing fetish herself, doing her best to stay out of the piss, but she did it anyways to please the bride. Maybe she just liked being the one doing the pissing. The bride lowered her ass down and lay flat on her back. I stepped out of the tub, leaving her lying in puddles of piss from both the maid of honor and myself, along with both of our puddles of cum. She was in a drunken, sex-induced stupor and could barely speak. I hope she enjoyed it because she wasn't likely to feel that again based on what I had heard about the groom.

The maid of honor thanked me and walked me back into the other room. I got dressed and she showed me out the door. And, then it was finished. I walked down the hall to the elevator and made my way down to the lobby. I felt pretty dirty and made a note to take a shower as soon as I got home. As the doors of the elevator opened and I walked towards the exit, I reflected that it doesn't really matter how experienced you think you are. It doesn't matter how freaky you might be. There is always somebody out there who is nastier than you.