"What room?" Ford asked.
"It was on the sixteenth floor," I said, flustered for a moment as I tried to remember. "Ahhh, 1614."
"This is good for people who want to send him letters and faxes," Erik said. "But what about us?"
Ford looked over at me. "Tell them what you want," he said.
I was past the point of coy pauses or subtlety, so I didn't hesitate before responding, "I want to taste those cocks, and their piss."
"Nancy, grab the bowl," Ford instructed. Nancy did, standing behind me and reaching around my shoulder to hold it in front of my face. I could feel his legs against my arms, which were still handcuffed behind me, and also his cock pressing against my spine. Meanwhile, the two musclemen moved so there was one on either side of me, their dicks drooping over the bowl. Mike had a thick nest of dense pubic hair, with just the nub of his uncut cock protruding. He went first, pissing into the bowl – not much, just a couple mouthfuls, which Nancy tipped toward me to swallow. It was almost clear, and hardly pasted like piss at all.
Erik followed, and his stream was definitely piss, dark yellow and strong-smelling. I had to struggle not to cough it up as Nancy offered it to me, as it had a bitter, unpleasant taste. As I struggled with it, I looked hungrily at his pale, shaved cock, smoothly emerging from his torso.
Mike pissed again, a little more this time. But now, Erik leaned down and dipped his cock into it. Mike pissed a little more on Erik's cock, and then he raised it to my mouth. The combination of Mike's urine and Erik's fetching tool was almost overpoweringly arousing, and I felt a surge of pleasure as I licked it clean.
Then they reversed the roles, Erik pissing on Mike's fleshy stump – which looked mostly like dangly foreskin in its unerect state – and his bushy public hair. As Nancy carefully held the bowl to catch the drops straining through, I leaned forward and took him into my mouth, licking Erik's strong piss as my tongue ran over his foreskin, rapidly poking in to find out what it was hiding.
"Not yet," he said in a voice that was gently chiding but not unfriendly. "Suck my pubes clean first." So I did, moving my mouth around like a wet vac through a thick carpet. When I finished, I could feel I had hairs stuck in my teeth.
"Okay, next," said Ford. The guys stepped back and Nancy pulled the bowl away. "Go get the piss bottle," Ford instructed, and Nancy went over to the cupboards of the kitchenette. Meanwhile, Ford moved behind me and unlocked the handcuffs. Without giving me any time to rub my sore wrists, Ford told me to sit on the short edge of the long rectangular coffee table, and then to lay down along its length.
It was only as I moved for the first time in a while that I realized how much I had to go myself – no surprise, given how much piss I'd been drinking. Meanwhile, Nancy came back with something clear and plastic in his hand. It took me a second to figure out what it was – a 2 liter soda bottle that had had its base cut off. The back of my head flat against the table, Nancy turned it over and put the open top in my mouth, making it a crude funnel.
Once again, Mike and Erik stepped above me on opposite sides. "Okay whore," Ford said, also standing above me with his camera. "Block the bottom with your tongue. I'll signal when you can drink." I complied as I held the bottle up with one hand, poking my tongue like a plug to block the spout.
And then the two musclemen began pissing into the upturned bottle. I was almost hypnotized watching Mike's clear stream from one direction and Erik's dark, almost orange, flow from the other. They began to pool in the bottom, and I could feel the warmth as they mixed together. They kept pissing until the bottle was not-quite half full, and Ford said, "hold it." They cut off their flow, and then Ford nodded at me. Gingerly, I slowly unblocked the narrow lid, knowing I'd surely choke myself if I let that put straight back into my throat all at once. Now it was trickling out, and I could taste the hot, salty liquid as I began to gulp it down. The combined flavor was neither as good as Mike's piss or as unpleasant as Erik's.
There was a lot of piss for me to drink, and I had nearly swallowed everything that I had dammed in when Ford gestured to the guys and they resumed pissing. Now I had to keep up as the bottle above me refilled. All at once, the piss started to affect me like champagne – I felt wobbly in a way like I was strangely drunk. And suddenly it was as if all my senses had kicked up in intensity – the smell was stronger, the taste was more vivid, and all of it suddenly felt connected to my pleasure centers. The taste, the smell were suddenly all stimulating me, sending shudders of sexual pleasure throughout my body. It was something like an orgasm, but not centered in my cock. Just waves of sexual pleasure all over.
My mind had become unfocused, and as first Erik, then Mike trailed off, I had no idea how much piss I had just consumed. But I did have a sense of fullness, like I'd just had a full meal. As the last of it ran from the bottle into my throat, Ford gestured and Nancy pulled the bottle away from me.
"I must confess," Ford said as Erik and Mike pulled me up to a sitting position, "that I wasn't expecting much out of you. But you can drink piss like a fuckin' champ. I bet by now, you really have to go."
I nodded, and with another gesture to the strongmen, they pulled me to my feet, only to lay me on the tarp covering the floor. Following instructions, I rolled over onto my side. Nancy stepped over and dropped to his knees, laying down on his side, but with his head to my feet. Worming ourselves into position, I quickly had his pale, skinny cock in front of my face. As I felt him fumbling with my dick, I reached out to hold his, aiming it as I opened my mouth.
At roughly the same time, we both began pissing. This was less of a precision effort than before, but I managed to keep his stream pointed at my mouth and kept pace, swallowing as he pissed. As I emptied my own bladder into his mouth, I assume he was doing the same, though with a bit less success – I could feel some of my piss pooling on the tarp under my thigh.
"Piss-drinking sixty-nine," Ford said, to no-one in particular. "For you guys watching at home, don't say this isn't value for money."
He kept speaking to his subscribers, but I was too busy gulping down piss to follow it all. Nancy's was more salty and less bitter, and I was satisfied with its bouquet. He finished pissing, but I was still going, and I could hear him gulping as I idly ran my hand up and down his smooth, nylon-covered flank. When I finished pissing – and it was about as much as I could have held – he rolled over onto his back, panting.
But without a break, Ford ordered him up. He had Nancy sit on the couch between Erik and Mike. He had all three of them hunch forward so that their butts were over the edge of the cushion and then lean back, pulling their legs up so that there were three asses upturned in a row.
I was still lying on my side, waiting to be directed, and I wasn't surprised when Ford said to me, "now you may crawl over and lick each of those assholes."
In fact, I felt a massive flush of excitement and anticipation. So much so, I thought perhaps I'd stretch this out and prolong the moment for as long as possible. Gingerly raising myself to hands and knees, I tried to seductively slink across the floor. I tried to move like a cat, and as I reached the end of the couch, I turned up my face to rub against Erik's butt – cheek to cheek, as it were. I moved along the row, rubbing each of their asses in turn, then pivoted at the end, repeating the process with my other cheek. Then I turned back again, this time pausing behind each of them to move my face above their assholes and delicately sniff the area, absorbing each man's unique odor.
And then back again, finally making more contact. Starting with Mike, I chastely pecked at the center of his left buttock, then moved between his upraised legs and rubbed my cheeks against each of his hairy thighs. And then to Nancy's bony bottom and skinny thighs. And then Erik's taut ass, which was a beautiful thing – his butt could be the model for a Grecian sculpture.
And then zagging back, and now making closer contact, licking a circle around each asshole, but not yet yielding to the tempting target. And then finally, I settled in behind each of them and properly began to eat out their assholes. Ford was right above me with his camera, catching my tongue craning out to make contact with each manly rosebud.
I was in heaven. I'd always loved rimming, but most of my girlfriends had considered it to be a favor they were doing me instead of a pleasure I was trying to share with them. Here, I could tell each of these men enjoyed getting their assholes licked, and were spurring me on, calling for my tongue to move faster and deeper.
And I did, plowing into each of them, savoring each one's unique taste and texture. Mike's hairy asshole had a musky, tangy taste, as if his fur had trapped some of his sweat. Nancy's was puckered and quickly yielding, opening itself up quickly under my tongue-lashing. And Erik's sphincter felt like the rest of his body, like this was a strong muscle that could crush me on a whim.
I closed my eyes and burrowed into each of these. No matter what else happened, I felt as if this made the whole night worthwhile – and if I woke in the morning feeling like I went too far, I could remember that I got to do
this
.
