Amanda's Toilet 2

I hadn't planned on publishing that. My confession. Not when I wrote it. Because it's true, and that scared me, unlike the other things, my fictions. I wrote it one evening when I couldn't think of anything new to write, and initially I just gave it to Amanda to read. She loved it, and I ended up reading it out loud to a few of our friends. Then one of them suggested I put it online, anonymously, and I confessed that I already published stuff, but never about myself. I couldn't about me, and Amanda.

'Why not?' she asked, 'if its anonymous. And it's good too.'

We did it there and then, overconfident perhaps from the wine, and then over the last few weeks I've loved watching the comments come in: please do write more, tell me what you want to do to me, which bits you liked, and which you didn't. Not that I can change them, because its fact, but I'm still interested to know.

I am starting to worry that I might be addicted though. When I'm home alone, I sit and think about her using me. I imagine her pissing in the toilet at Starbucks or at work: staring at a mental picture of the urine projecting out of her pee hole, or of shit protruding from her anus.

Then last weekend we went away together, a holiday we'd had planned for ages, to a cottage in the Cotswolds with another couple, June and Matt, though of course when we booked it we didn't know what our situation would be, and for some reason had avoided the conversation on the days preceding it, until we all turned up. They had been there the night that we read the story, but neither had used me.

We chose rooms and started to unpack: I was in our room, and the others were in the kitchen, when I heard Matt say that he was desperate for the loo, and then Amanda called me downstairs. When I got there, Matt was bouncing from toe to toe, putting the last couple of things in the fridge, presumably about to then go to the toilet, and looked at the situation confusedly.

'Wait. Her. You mean?'

He stopped hopping: the situation had clearly distracted him from his natural urges.

'If you want to,' Amanda said.

'I've always wanted to see those tits.' June thumped him, though not that hard, playfully, ish, I think. 'And you haven't?' he added, which June shrugged and nodded at, moving her gaze to me, who was apparently going to take her top off so that she could be pissed on. I wasn't sure, at all, having never drunk the piss of a man, nor done anything outside of the flat. But it did turn me on. And we were private, ish. And this is why I'm thinking I might be addicted, because within only a moment's thought my unsure mind had bought into the idea immediately, and I knelt down and took of my top.

'Actually. Thinking about it love, if you're going to kneel, you should probably be naked, because if he misses it'll go on your trousers.'

It was so, I don't know, normal, I suppose. It felt normal, the statement, in that sexy was that Amanda says random stuff and makes it sound perfectly ordinary, like telling me to take my trousers and panties off in front of two other people to avoid getting them stained with piss. I mean how fucking not normal in that?

I complied, if that's the word -- concurred perhaps -- stripped, that's what I did, quickly, and to the surprise of June and Matt, who watched mesmerised. I then knelt down and opened my mouth, and Matt just froze.

'You're going to need to take your cock out,' Amanda said, smiling.

And then, after another pause, he did, and clearly it was semihard, protruding out of the top of his boxers unaided. There was a slight bend, but definitely not a flop.

'Does she turn you on?' Amanda said, tauntingly, somewhat.

He nodded, and then walked over to me, his cock only a couple of inches away from my open mouth.

'Ready?'

'Always ready, sir.'

And he started to piss -- nasty, acrid, deep yellow piss: typical men, they never drink enough water.

Quickly my mouth was full, but he wasn't stopping to let me swallow -- I mean, what did I expect, you don't stop to let the toilet swallow do you -- so I had to just go for it, allowing the piss to bounce off my briefly-closed mouth and drip down my front, splattering over my legs. This was new. I always drank Amanda and the girls' piss on my back, like a toilet: I supposed that I was now a urinal. It also crossed my mind that I would shortly be expected to clean him, and thus would be taking the tip of a cock into mouth for the first time in ... god knows.

This excited me. I kind of wanted him to use me properly, grab my head and make me take him all in, and then cum down my throat, but I knew that he wouldn't, couldn't in fact.

I was covered in piss by the time he finished, having swallowed only about half of it. I could feel piss running down my cunt, having parted my legs a little to show myself off, to June and to Matt. It's not often that you get the opportunity to show your friends your naked body, and I am fucking proud of mine, piss-soaked or not. Both of the girls starred at it: the cunt that is, specifically. Not at me, or at Matt's cock, but at my pissy cunt. Matt was looking into my eyes, deeply -- it was beautiful.

I knelt forward, and took the tip of his cock into my mouth, flicking my tongue over the head, and making sure it was nice and clean, before standing up. Matt's cock remained out, by now rock-hard, and Matt seemed stunned into silence.

'Thank you,' I said to him.

'No, thank you,' he spluttered back, like people do, making everyone burst out laughing, though what do people say when they've just used you as their urinal? It lightened the situation immensely, and for that I think we were all grateful. June walked over to her husband and grabbed his cock: 'Am I going to need to deal with this then?' she said, somewhat jokingly, before kneeling down and taking her in his mouth. This perfectly respectable, fully-clothed woman was sucking her husband off in the kitchen of a rented cottage with two of their friends just watching.

Fuck me my life is weird, I thought, and great. Amanda smiled at me, and passed me a towel, with which I dried the piss off myself, secretly hoping to stay covered.

Then she knelt down in front of me, and started to eat me out. Was this a foursome? I wondered, an orgy? Group sex? I didn't know. The piss wasn't sex, of course, and for Amanda wasn't even sex-adjacent, though I must say it felt like it when I was licking Matt's erection. Matt looked at me frequently as he was being sucked off, and as he finished into his wife's mouth I could feel his eyes burning holes in my tits. Fucking typical men. Though I was staring back at him, I suppose, and had become very turned on from his piss, and from the sight and feel of his cock.

'Excuse me?' June gargled, her mouth full of cum, 'but I don't swallow, I always spit, in the toilet.'

Amanda moved back immediately, as if to say: all yours, and I knelt down preparing to have this man's cum spat into my mouth, which was weird, and unexpected, and very clever. June stood up and walked over to me very smugly, proud of herself for thinking of it. She didn't spit as much as just open her mouth and let the cum slip out, all salivary. This was worse than the piss, far worse, and thus in a way far better.

'Good girl,' she said, and walked off to carry on unpacking, though really just as a power move, I think.

Amanda walked over to me and started, this time with her fingers on my cunt and my nipple in her mouth. Soon I was starting to moan, with Matt just staring at me, and then shake, my hands firmly on the table, trying to keep myself from falling over, which I did the moment she finished, sinking to my knees and moaning -- the best orgasm I've had in ages.

'I've never watched two people have sex. Not in real life,' Matt said. 'I've never been watched either. We should come away together more often.

I redressed and we all went out for a drink. I watched everyone's lips carefully each time they could a sip of their beer, knowing that once the beer had been processed by their bodies it would most likely be coming to me.

We chatted like normal people do, about the football and the US election and what's good on Netflix these days. It was nice and couple-y, a double date, which is what it was, or at least what the weekend was meant to be when we'd booked it. These were Amanda's and my grown-up friends, that's what we called them, because we did grown-up things. As the sort of man in our relationship, if that's even a thing, Amanda chatted more to Matt, and I chatted more to June. June was beautiful -- is beautiful, even -- or at least she was when I last saw her: touch wood.

I couldn't wait to see her pussy, and I couldn't get my mind off it: and she's talking about her nephews, and what baby names they like, though they're not in any rush to have kids. It's appalling really. I am a toilet addict. I bet nobody else is thinking like this, I thought, angrily, though the depravity of it only turned me on -- catch 22 really!

I went to the bathroom, and I noticed how wet I was. I sat down, without pissing, and just slipped a finger into my cunt, like a fork going into a parboiled potato. I made me shudder a little, I pissed on my hand, for some reason. Never done that before, I just felt like it, and then licked each finger clean, before washing my hands, thoroughly as anything, and rejoining the group.

'Shall we go back to the cottage,' Amanda said, 'I could rather do with the loo.'

What fucking luck was that!? I didn't even sit down, I just finished my drink standing up, and started to walk to the door, letting all three of them know how fucking depraved and desperate I was -- how desperate I always am -- to be used.

Back in the cottage, I stripped down to my waist and lay on the floor, as June went to get a bottle of wine and some glasses. Both of them gazed lovingly at Amanda as she used me -- to us the most normal thing in the world, to them a baffling and clearly deeply erotic experience. As I'm cleaned her she farted, which made everyone jump, and June giggled a little. She quickly apologised, though of course I ate her shit only a few hours earlier, before the drive, as I do every morning. You don't notice the bathroom habits of other people until you become involved. I can predict, with a pretty solid degree of accuracy, when I am going to be used, and what specifically for. I know Amanda so well: I know her bodily fluids: that is fucking love, I tell you.

June asked if she could go, and Amanda told her, 'there's no need to ask, dear, she is the toilet in this cottage, just tell her, anytime. You fucking come and wake her up in the night: heaven knows I do, she loves it: don't you honey.'

I nodded, my head turned to the side to see her pulling down her trousers, and smiling at me.

'Thank you,' she said.

'No, thank you,' I said, laughing. Everyone laughed too, though none louder than the embarrassed Matt.

She was completely cleanly shaved, which I was not expecting at all. In fact, I think she must have been waxed, or even lasered, because the skin looked so smooth. It turns out she was lasered: we chatted vaginas a lot later, after much wine. Matt doesn't like any hair: which I find very odd, but men can be like that. I've heard people say it's a paedophile thing, but I think it's because of porn.

And the evening pretty much continued like this, as did the rest of the weekend. I stopped putting my top on and off, because it just seemed unnecessary, and I liked being topless anyway. The trousers and the panties were off an hour or so later when Matt needed to use me, and then too stayed off. I noticed how much June and Matt looked at me, at all of me, and I liked it. It made me feel pretty.

'What about your own piss?' Matt asked, and we looked at each other, Amanda and I, for a few seconds, as the question hung in the air.

'Just goes down the toilet. I can't be my own toilet after all. Can I?'

'I've seen girls like lean against a wall with their legs up and do it.'

'What kind of porn are you watching dear? You into piss?' June asked, somewhat concernedly.

'A little. I mean, love, you have pissed in her mouth twice, and there's literally a toilet right there.'

She relented a little, and then I asked Matt if he could position me how he thought I might be able to piss on myself. He followed me over to the wall, where I lay on my back with my legs up. He was very timid about touching my body, which he had now seen intimately, but hadn't touched at all.

'Come on, man, move me,' I shouted, playfully, and he did, with two hands on my hips he lifted up my waist and pulled my head in closer to the wall. The position was not the most comfortable, though I was sure I could hold it for a few minutes, which was all I really needed to do.

'There we go,' he said, standing back. 'How does that feel?'

And I said it looked good, and asked him if he wanted me to piss.

'Well, yeah, if you want?'

'Matt, I am to be commanded.'

'Piss, now,' June shouted over, surprisingly, 'piss into your pathetic little mouth, and if you spill any on the floor you're going to be licking it up. Slut!'

Fuck me was I turned on then. I could see a little bulge starting in Matt's trousers. Despite my mouth being as open as possible the piss did not land in it, as I rather suspected it wouldn't: the first bit dribbled out and ran down my tummy, then it shot through the air and hit my forehead, like being baptised in it: I hereby baptise you the piss whore of the Cotswolds! Eventually I was able to get most of it landing, though a good deal hit my chin and my nose. My entire face, in fact, was drenched, and my hair, far worse than I had ever get from another woman's cunt, even in the early days. I kind of liked it. Amanda used to piss all over me back when I was her slave, and now she only pisses in my mouth, which is a shame, in a way. One of the downsides to our arrangement, and there really aren't many downsides.

I tried to stop to allow myself to swallow, and then restart, but the first time I did that so much was spilt from the stopping and the starting that it seemed best just to keep at it. This wasn't a clean process, though of course neither was it hygienic. I have googled the dangers of drinking piss, and am well-versed in them, conscious that I now often consume many, many litres of it a day, from many different people.

Once I'd finished I asked Amanda if I had permission to shower, thinking that it seemed the correct thing to do, and she said we'd shower together -- 'that way you can fuck me too. I want to cum in that little mouth.'

We walked off to the bathroom: Amanda stripping as we did.

'You two coming?' she shouted to Matt and June, who looked at each other, each waiting for the other to answer, and then in unison just started to follow.

The following morning it transpired that neither of our friends were into shit, which didn't surprise me, as most people aren't', so Amanda's morning ablutions were performed in the bedroom, and followed by breakfast.

As Matt pissed on me in the Kitchen, with the other women just sitting and eating their cereal, it seemed to me he was trying to piss clean the shit stains on my teeth. I've read that this is a thing: men cleaning the toilet or the urinal with the sheer strength of their piss. It amused me to the think of myself as a dirty urinal like that.

Nobody mentioned what had happened in the shower. I can't say now, it's too ... I don't know. It's just too much. I was still in a bit of a pain, as was Matt I think, though everyone had enjoyed it, and there was a feeling that it might happen again, which it did, that evening, and again Sunday morning before driving home.

The problem with sex is once you realise that everyone is as horny as you the limits are dangerously few. The situation, however, is fragile. I suppose it was a holiday romance, the four of us, and now that it is over, it may never happen again. I miss already the feeling of kneeling when one is pissed on, from afar, and getting to lock eyes with the person, it was very different to being pissed on lying down, from a cunt only inches away from you.

I think I need to talk to Amanda about it. I'd like to kneel and have her piss all over me, tits, cunt, face, hair, you name it. It's not that I'm bored, or I don't like what we do, it's just the possibilities now seem greater.

The other thing we did in the Cotswolds was Matt wrote on me, 'Piss Slut', in bit black pen across my tits. It has worn off now, but I liked it. I liked the fact that it was almost readable on my cleavage when we went to the pub for dinner, and I saw people trying to read it.