Life of a Pro

It's funny what bizarre thoughts stick out in your mind in a situation like that. She remembered thinking, as he began to beg for more of her piss in his mouth, that he had accomplished the goal he'd stated earlier. She did feel like a Goddess — albeit at his expense. But he wanted it that way, had engineered it that way. The superior mood that he had induced in her was so strong that when she looked down at him and listened to him beg (beg!) to taste more of her piss, she decided to just let the rest of her piss go right on his face without saying a word. It was purely impulsive, and he clearly wasn't expecting it. It just seemed so comical. Cruel and funny. And fun. She'd even thrown her nose in the air, like a snobby bitch reveling in her own superiority as she pissed on her worshipper. God, it was fun pissing on his face!

At the time, she'd only wished she could pee some more. Now, she wished it hadn't happened. But the worst was yet to come.

His face and mouth were just soaked in her come and piss. She remembered thinking he's probably going to taste that in every meal for a week! Why did she like that thought so much? She knew that she really liked John. It wasn't that she really wished anything bad on him at all. In fact, she felt a strange bond forming between them as they shared the unbelievable. They were just playing and having fun, but there was something unusually intimate about the sheer kinkiness of it. Maybe it was because she'd never done anything like that before, and even now could never imagine doing it with anyone else but John.

That was one side of the coin. The other was that in her more level-headed moments afterward, she found the shame of doing something so dirty, so perverted, was just too much for her. The peeing was one thing, but...

She remembered not being able to pee any more. She looked at John and smiled. She remembered that through all of the fun, sensual arrogance she was feeling, she also felt an odd warmness, a closeness to John, as she looked in his eyes. He looked unbelievably happy. But the kinky mood was still so prevalent, and she was so turned on.

She lifted one leg over his head and turned around on the sofa. Now she too was in a kneeling position at the sofa, knees on the floor, arms tucked under her upper body as she rested on the sofa. "You may kiss my ass now," she said, "and don't forget to thank me for coming and pissing in your mouth." (Had she really spoken like that? She just couldn't believe that was her...)

She was expecting the exquisite feeling of his lips on her ass, but it didn't happen. She turned and looked over her shoulder at him. He had a strangely quizzical look on his face. She thought he might have been thinking about how he had lost control of this situation. Much to her current consternation, it was clear at the time that she had taken what he started and begun running with it. She'd guessed wrong, though. With what looked like an almost involuntary gesture, he looked down at her ass and then slowly back up to her eyes and asked, "You sure you don't have to go any more?"

Puzzled, she looked at him for a moment and went into another torrent of laughter. "Haven't you had enough? Sorry, I've peed all I can. You drank almost all of it! I hope you don't get sick." But he just looked at her with that same strange expression. Then she guessed what was going on. "We're not talking about pee, are we, John?" she asked. The look on his face now made sense, confirmed her suspicions. "I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet," she said. "I can't believe what we've done so far." She was still feeling heady from being worshipped so completely, though. She thought for a moment, and added with a smile (or was it more of a smirk?), "But maybe if you lick my ass sweetly enough, I may be coaxed into having to go some more."

What amazed her now (and always shamed her) was that she had not reacted to his implied suggestion with disgust. She seemed more to write it off as an impossible fantasy. You know, the kind that people sometimes have but would never actually want to realize. Like women fantasizing about rape, for example. Still, she remembered that she was not even remotely repulsed. What a difference a few hours with John had made in her. Even now, she was not repulsed by the idea, just mortified at her own lack of repulsion.

Finally, she felt him kissing the cheeks of her ass. His lips felt so good, so loving, so adoring. He seemed to know just how to vary them from firm to soft. She felt like he was caressing the skin of each cheek with his lips. It was completely relaxing, and naturally, as with anything she had done with John, it made her feel like a spoiled princess. And she knew almost subconsciously that John wanted her to feel free to be — she didn't know how to describe it — rude if she was so inclined.

And so she was feeling a more relaxed arrogance as she lay there letting him worship her ass. She found herself thinking about what he'd (sort of) asked for — wishing she did have to go — and not just pee. That had to be what he meant, what else? What would it feel like to do that to someone, she thought. She really couldn't imagine it. She felt his lips against her asshole again. God, that felt good. She decided that there was something about having your ass kissed, I mean really kissed, that's just so exciting and satisfying both sensually and emotionally. Even now on the plane, she conceded that point. But it was such an arrogant and self-centered pleasure.

She felt him begin to lick her ass. This was a new experience. She felt his tongue moving up and down the crack, then she felt it slow and circle around her asshole before feeling the tip gently probing away at her shitter, then pulling away briefly, only to be followed by a full-on romantic kiss. She allowed herself to think about what he might be tasting. Then she began to think again about what it would be like to do something really nasty to him. Could she really do it if she had to go? Given her mood, anything could happen. Hell, she thought, the way he's treating me like nothing but candy comes out of my ass, I probably would do it.

He started to probe his tongue into her asshole. His manner seemed to suggest that he really was trying to taste her, not just stimulate her. She felt his tongue lick every wrinkle of her asshole. Every now and then he would stop to sniff her asshole, inhaling deeply with his nose pressed right up against it. He kissed her pussy every time he sniffed her, and he finished each sniff with a kiss directly on her asshole, before resuming his slavish licking. Without saying anything, he seemed to be encouraging her to think about doing rude things to him. The more demeaning his behavior, the more arrogant she felt.

The feeling of his tongue lapping away at her asshole was actually reminiscent of going to the bathroom, she noted. He was making her want to do it to him. And that thought was making her pussy so wet and her clit so hard. Before she knew it, she found herself shamelessly masturbating — all while thinking about what it would feel like to inflict the worst degradation possible on him. He started to stick his tongue deep into her ass. That sensation was even more like taking a shit. It made the image in her head of actually doing it to him feel that much more real.

Out of nowhere she began to climax again. It started out as a little skipping orgasm that seemed to be in sync with his tongue. Each skip grew larger than the last. In spasms, she felt her asshole grasp at his tongue as delicious waves of pleasure ran over her clit. Finally, like cresting a wave, she was overwhelmed with a feeling of free fall, and then she had a full-blown orgasm. It was so intense she felt like she was going to black out.