“Please,” I gasped. “Please, Masque, make it hurt.” He clamped his teeth with added force, savaging my flesh until I whimpered.
“One day soon your tits will know real pain, Cat. So much beautiful pain, so much pain all for you.”
He ground his thigh between mine, pressing so hard I tried to move from under him. “Not there,” I begged. “I won’t be able to hold it.”
“That’s the fucking point,” he growled. “I want to drink from you, Lydia, I want to spread your sweet little cunt and lap at your slit like you’re the fountain of fucking life itself.”
Nerves jangled as the need to piss threatened to consume me. I focused on the ache between my thighs, on clenching every muscle as tight as it would go.
“I don’t know if I can do this. It’s so dirty, Masque.”
“If I can do this, Lydia Marsh.” He slipped the mask up from his face, tossing it over to the bench. “Then you can give me what I need. No boundaries, no barriers, no mask, Lydia, just you and me. I want to know every part of you, every secret of your body. Every secret.” His face was so close to mine, so close I could taste the scotch on his breath. “Trust me, Lydia, please.”
I raised my hands to his face. “You said you wouldn’t do that again, take off the mask.”
“I’m doing a lot of things lately that I thought I’d never do. Now it’s your turn. Please, Cat, please give me a taste.”
His hand was hot between my thighs again, balling my clit with his thumb. “Shit,” I moaned. “I can’t hold it, James, I can’t hold it anymore. I’m going to piss, James, I need to go. I can’t hold it!”
“Good girl,” he breathed, dropping to his knees. I didn’t fight him as he spread my legs, didn’t make a sound as his fingers spread me open. “There it is, Lydia, all ready for me. I wish you could see how beautiful your sweet little piss-slit is.” He wriggled his tongue against me, digging at a hole way too small to penetrate.
“Please, James, I can’t hold it,” I gasped, screwing my eyes shut.
“Look at me, Lydia.” His tone was hard, insistent. I looked down. “I want this.”
My body made my decision for me, caving under the pressure. The first rush of fluid spilled out without warning, and his mouth was on me, a primitive grunt sounding loud from the back of his throat.
“More,” he groaned. “Give me more.”
I moaned as the surge erupted, relief humming right through me, and once I started I couldn’t stop, not even if I’d tried. He kept his eyes on mine as he drank from me, swallowing some down, and spitting the rest back up to dribble down his chin. It felt so fucking wrong; it felt so dirty, and humiliating, and bad, and seedy, but so fucking amazing. It felt like bliss, the ultimate release, the most beautifully fucking filthy thing I’d ever done in my life.
“Oh my God,” I wheezed. “Oh my fucking God.” My legs trembled, knees buckling, but he held me in a vice, sliding three fingers inside me mid flow. He pumped me as I gushed for him, and it felt so right. It felt so fucking right.
He didn’t stop, not even when I was spent and euphoric, pressed against the tiles like my life depended on it. He sucked on my clit, moaning and grunting and hissing out words of endearment that made no fucking sense. White heat exploded behind my eyes, the grip of orgasm ripping right through me. I bucked against him, screaming his name, both his names, and he didn’t seem to care, burying his face in my pussy like I was salvation personified. I came down slowly, and let myself drop into his arms. His mouth tasted bitter, but I was past caring, lost in everything he had to give.
“My turn,” he moaned. “Do you want me?”
I didn’t register even the slightest shock, immune to any deviant thrill his mind could conceive. “In my mouth?” I asked. “Is that what you want?”
“Not today,” he smiled. He got to his feet pulling me with him. “Spread your legs wide for me, that’s my girl, show me your beautiful clit.”
“Ok,” I breathed, pulling myself open. “Whatever you want, Masque, do it, fucking do it!”
“Watch, Lydia, watch how fucking wonderful this is.”
He worked his cock in his hand, hard and ripe and so fucking big. I shuddered as he began to go, a short, sharp burst at first, before he picked up a steady flow. He aimed his dirty yellow jet straight for my clit, and I moaned like a whore as he hit the spot. “Yes,” he hissed. “Dirty girl, getting off on my filthy fucking piss.”
“It feels so fucking wrong,” I groaned. “So wrong.” I reached for his cock, mashing him tight against me, until his hot golden river splashed all the way down my thighs. “Don’t stop,” I hissed. “Please don’t fucking stop.”