In December, I wrote a short 3,000 word story about a female punk rock singer who urinated over a fan on stage, partially inspired by real-life events. I enjoyed the tale and played with the characters in my mind over the following days. I said I would write more chapters if there was positive feedback.
There was.
I had plenty of comments and the story fared well in the "scoring." So, I wrote more.
Out of principle, I never release a chapter until I have written and edited the entire book. But, four extra chapters became six, and then eight, and there are now two dozen chapters on my hard drive. Over 70,000 words of golden showers, female domination and absolute filth with a plethora of additional characters. It's about 80-90% finished. Mostly, it needs editing.
I hope to complete the entire story before Easter. But I didn't want everyone who asked for a continuation to wait any longer. I promised I'd write something in the weeks after the first chapter, and it's been nearly three months. So, here is the next instalment and I will release the remainder as they become ready.
If you have not read the previous chapters, then please do so, as the following story won't make much sense.
* * *
Natasha phoned me on Sunday; I felt like I she interviewed me as a potential landlord, but whatever concerns she had, I eased them with our frank conversation, and the unpredictable punk rocker moved in the following Saturday. Faye travelled in her car to help her unpack and their roadie friend came in the van, loaded with dozens of boxes containing all of Natasha's worldly goods. We hauled some of her possessions from the truck to the largest spare bedroom and the rest went into the annexe. After the cargo wagon left, the two women and I walked to the pub for tea.
Faye asked, as we ambled down the narrow road, if she could stay the night. "I'm tired," she explained as darkness settled around us. "And I need a bloody drink. I don't wanna drive home."
"Sure, I'll make up my second spare bedroom. It's got some of Samantha's stuff in it, but I can move them."
"Don't worry about that; I can sleep in Natasha's bed. She's got a double and we always share on tour." They both giggled at my surprised expression and I felt like an innocent, naïve little boy, as they scoffed at my reaction to their unexpected revelation. "We're bisexual," Faye explained.
Once more, I ordered my new lodger several pints, and both Faye and I kept up with her pace of drinking. Natasha flirted with the young waitress and two of the regulars watching the football, as she got steadily more inebriated. After a couple of hours, we walked back up the narrow track in the pitch black, with both the girls moaning about their bladders and Natasha warning that "I was going to get it!"
Excitedly, we hurried into my home and climbed the stairs to my en-suite bathroom: a wet room. The slightly sloped floor behind a large glass shower screen was ideal, and I disrobed as I crossed my bedroom. "He's keen," Faye teased, following me.
"He's a fucking piss slut," Natasha snapped. "Look how fucking hard he is." I couldn't help my natural reaction as I considered what was about to happen. Natasha sauntered around the transparent wall as I sat on the floor of my shower space. My lodger kicked off her shoes, and lowered her jeans to her thighs, just like in Bristol.
The three or four seconds as she settled herself, crouching over my face, were excruciating. My eyes took in her tight derriere and amazed at her smooth butthole. I looked at every fold, crease, and crevice of her perfect female anatomy as I waited. She sighed, and the stream started.
I caught much of her deluge in my face. Warm pungency that splashed on my skin and entered my mouth. Harsh, acidic, bitter and nasty; it was a repulsive act that I loved and I tasted her acerbic flow.
Even though I smelt of an old urinal, with Natasha's waste water drenching my hair, I could not get enough of her piss showering down on me. It was disgusting and filthy, and I felt like a pig wallowing in manure. But I wanted more and more of it. My mouth widened to catch more of her rain, swallowing some of the caustic honey. More humiliation. Her gaze said it all as she looked at my arousal, my actions, and my eyes.
I loved this; I enjoyed doing it and I wanted more.
She groaned as her stream slowed and she moved towards the front of the shower. Piss pooled around me, and I saw Faye, now bottomless, push past my lodger. A narrow strip of pubic hair at the top of her cunt, and she put her legs on either side of me, straddling my throat. She never bent down, but beckoned Natasha to her. They kissed, and she released her stream as the two lovers embraced.
Natasha's hands gripped Faye's buttocks and squeezed them as piss flowed from the redhead's desperate bladder.
Tepid drizzle sprinkled over my face and my chest. A misty rain cloud erupted over me to coat me in Faye's piss, as the bandmates snogged. They embraced, with Natasha's finger circling Faye's clit as the bottomless girl covered me in her warm urine.
Her pee tasted milder than Natasha's flow. It had less pungency and bitterness to it, and it didn't smell as intense, but her urine still glazed my face. I was their urinal, and Faye groaned as the stream dropped to a dribble.
Natasha's finger swirled over her bandmate's cunt. They panted as they broke from their kiss. "I want to fuck you," Natasha panted, and ignoring me, the two women ran from my en-suite to christen Natasha's new room while they left me marinading in a pool of female piss.
I wiped my wet face with my hands and inhaled the nastiness on my fingers. Absolute heaven. I licked the wetness from my palm and touched my sopping cock, masturbating myself to a creamy climax as I smelt and tasted the waste of the punk rockers.
Faye and Natasha were not quiet as they had sex, but they came down to the lounge a couple of hours later to get a drink each. I bade them good night, as I slunk into my study to work, and they were still shagging when I went to bed at midnight.
