Peeing on the Peeper Ch. 04

Sunday dawned hot and sunny and I re-stocked the poolside fridge, while Barbara prepared food for her guest, the stunningly-built black woman, Keisha.

The large-breasted 36-year-old millionairess who had recently purchased a Beverly Hills property that my wife had on her books, was due to join us for a rather more exclusive piss party poolside than I had endured the previous day, when five of Barbara's friends and colleagues had ganged up on me.

I had just finished my poolside chores, when the phone rang. "Get that Tom," instructed Barbara, "I've got my hands full with some savouries."

I picked up the poolside phone extension and answered: "Hi, Tom here."

A voice I recognised from the previous day sent thrills down my nearly nude body – I was clad only in a posing pouch, for maximum suntan effect.

"Hi Peeper, it's me Keisha. I hope you're nice and thirsty?"

"Oh, hi Keisha," I said, trying to maintain a steady voice. "Yes, Barb's not allowed me anything to drink since breakfast. I'm parched."

A deep chuckle came down the line. "Have to see if I can do something about that, eh, Peeper?"

"Yes," I replied. "Barb's busy in the kitchen, by the way, can I help?"

"Hope so," said Keisha. "I was going to come around this afternoon for a select little piss party with Barb."

My heart sank. She couldn't make it!

Then it leapt again, as the caller added: "Only, I was wondering if I could bring my darling daughter, Alysha. She was going to the Angels double header this afternoon, but her boyfriend had to cancel, he's had to fly to Vegas on business."

"I'm sure that'll be fine, just let me ask Barb," I answered, almost sprinting up the wide steps at the back of the house and into the kitchen where Barbara was hard at work.

"It's Keisha," I told my lovely 35-year-old real estate millionaire saleswoman wife, "she wants to know if it's OK to bring Alysha around with her."

"Sure thing, tell her that'll be fine," said Barbara and then, after shoving a tray packed with chicken vol au vents into the oven, she stood up and said: "Here, gimme the phone, I want to talk to her."

I passed the receiver over to my wife. "Hi Keisha," said Barbara, then when the pleasantries had been exchanged, Barbara made some remarks that had my cock bursting in its little posing pouch.

"Say, Keisha," Barb began, "Tom's never met Alysha, right? What say that when you arrive he doesn't get to touch her, not to shake her hand, not to take her bag, not to hand her a towel – no contact at all.

"Then, when he's in position on the trampoline, and Alysha's ready for a piss the very first contact he makes with her is when her pussy presses onto his mouth and he's made to drink her golden nectar! Imagine, the first time they touch and it's for her to piss down his throat!"

There was a short pause, then Barbara laughed. "She likes the idea? Cripes, Keisha, she must be as big a fuckin' domme as you are!"

When the conversation was over, Barb said to me: "Look at that, you filthy pervert, you're hard just thinking about it, aren't you?"

I had to agree, after all, the evidence was poking out in front of me!

"Right, get those stockings we used yesterday and get on the tramp," ordered my wife. "I'm going to have a shower, so you can tie your ankles down, and get out of that pouch, I want the first sight Alysha gets is you naked with a hard on!"

I hurried out poolside to carry out instructions and had my ankles bound and was lying back naked on the warmth of the tramp, when – some 20 minutes later – my wife came out of the house, dressed in high heels, a bikini bra and no bottom.

She stepped to the side of the trampoline and smiled approvingly at my erection, I've got an eight and three-quarter inch uncut cock, which I'm rather proud of. I'm also proud of my superb physique. Being a personal trainer to some of the rich and powerful in Hollywood meanst that I have to maintain a great body, and even though I'm 30 pushing 31, I think I do a pretty good job.

Barbara then proceeded to take the remaining four stockings, tied one each around my upper thighs, just below my crotch, then used the remaining two stockings to tie my wrists to the thigh restraints, thus pinning my arms by my side.

"Perfect," she smiled, leaning over and giving my rampant cock a swift kiss. "See you soon."

I must have lain in the hot sun for about half an hour before I heard the sound of laughter coming from the back of the house. Then three women came clip-clopping down the steps towards me.

"Hi Peeper," called Keisha, and I saw the statuesque black woman laughing down at me. She was naked, save for a pair of blood red leather high heels, her breasts glistening, their nipples erect, her pussy dark and very inviting.

"I'd like to introduce my dearest daughter, Alysha, who's heard all about your kink – say hi, darling." And with that, the 36-year-old super-rich bitch stepped back and pushed a smaller version of herself to the side of the trampoline.

"Hi Peeper," said the 20-year-old honey. Unlike her mother, Alysha was at least clothed – well, that's if you can term the items she had on her breasts and midriff clothing!

Her sensational breasts – later I learned they were 38s! – were "covered", and I use the word in the loosest possible sense, by two tiny bright red PVC triangles, which were just large enough to cover her nipples and areolae.

The rest of the bra, if such a term could be coined for such an erotically tiny garment, was made up of slender red straps going around her torso, and up from the tops of the triangles and over her shoulders.

At her midriff was an equally scandalous scrap of material, also bright red PVC, which gleamed over her prominent pudenda. The triangle here barely covered the sides of her piss flaps, which appeared to be straining to force their way out of the material to reveal themselves between her glorious brown thighs.

"Hi, Alysha," I replied.

"And tell me, is that cock the nine inches that I think it is?" she asked, teasingly.

"Sorry to disappoint you, Alysha," I tried to joke as I drank in her voluptuous beauty, "but it's only eight and three quarters."

The 20-year-old grinned down at me. "Oh what a pity," she cooed, in a mock sympathetic voice, "'cos I make it a point of never fucking anyone who's under nine inches."

Then she went to stroke my stiffy, only to have her hand slapped away by her mother. "Don't touch him," Keisha hissed, "the first contact is your piss flaps on his mouth, remember?"

"Oh, sorry, mom," the dusky beauty said, "I clean forgot. But speaking of piss, I'm really busting. Can I go soon?"

"Sure, honey," said her mother, "but first I've got a little present for Mr Peeper here. You got that bottle, Barb?"

"Shit," said my wife, "I forgot it, I've left it in the fridge. I'll just pop back upstairs and fetch it." And with that she left me alone with the two black beauties.

Keisha took my erection in one hand and started to stroke me, rubbing my foreskin down almost to my ring, which caused some copious amounts of pre-cum to drip onto my abdomen.

She was still giving me a slow jerk-off, when Barb returned with a bottle of Coca-Cola, only the contents weren't the usual dark colour, but a rather strong yellow.

"Here you are, Keisha," said my wife, handing the bottle to her friend, "and I've brought a beer glass for you to pour it into." Barbara then hoisted the VCR onto her shoulder and began to film my first humiliation of the day.

Keisha took the Coke bottle and poured a long draught of the liquid into the glass, till it was almost full to the brim.

"I thought of you this morning as I had my first piss of the day, darlin'," said Keisha, looking down at me. "And I thought how nice it would be for me to make a gift to you of my first piddle. Now, wasn't that kind of me?"

I nodded. "Very kind, thank-you very much, Keisha," I answered.

"OK, baby," she said, placing one strong arm behind my neck and pushing me up, while with her free hand she brought the piss-brimming glass to my mouth. "Take a nice long swallow, but don't drain it," she commanded.

I sucked down a couple of mouthfuls of her strong-tasting salty piss. Then Keisha fed me the rest. Next she emptied the last half a pint or so of her overnight pee into the glass and ordered me to quaff it all down in one chug!

When I'd finished, the big black woman gave me a long, lingering kiss on my mouth, then turned to her daughter: "There you are, Alysha, look at his cock!"

Alysha did and gasped. "For fuck's sake," she stammered, "he's still got a fuckin' erection. This guy's a piss perve!"

Keisha laughed: "Exactly, darlin'. Now do you want to ease the pressure in that beautiful big bladder of yours?"

"Do I fuckin' what," said the youngster.

"OK," said Keisha, "only remember his first taste is your pussy pressing on your mouth and the stream of your piss, gottit?"

"Gottit, mom," said Keisha, as she pulled away the laughingly brief bikini bottom and climbed onto the trampoline, being careful to avoid any bodily contact with my pinned frame.

The luscious 20-year-old then placed her feet by my shoulders, still being careful not to touch me with her feet. Barbara was faithfully recording the event.

Then Alysha lowered herself into a squat, so that her pussy was inches from my face. Her piss lips were thick and full, and her entire pussy was encircled by an almost black ring of shaved back hair.

I was gazing intently at this glorious vision, when Alysha's pussy came into contact with my lips. With an instinctive, reflex reaction I opened my mouth and tasted the warm salty stream as the young woman released the contents of her bladder down my throat.

The stream was strong and I gulped to accept it all, managing – but only just – to keep the contents within my mouth. Alysha strained to relieve herself completely and later, I was informed by Barbara, the piss flow lasted for something like 45 seconds!

At the finish, Alysha told her mother: "Oh fuck, mommy, that was the most wonderful piss I've ever fuckin' taken, it was so cool."

"Cool for you, darling," laughed Keisha, "but somewhat warm for the Peeper, I think!"

Alysha then shifted herself slightly on my face and then informed me: "Well, Peeper, I'm here now, so I may as well enjoy myself. Bring me off, you fuckin' piss pervert!"

And I did, revelling in the tangy tasting pussy slithering over my mouth and face, until I was able to bring the lovely young dominatrix to a powerful and noisy climax.

The rest of the afternoon continued with the three women enjoying pissing all over me, on my face, on my cock and balls, then rubbing their snatches against my drenched body before raising their pussies to my mouth to receive oral adoration.

Finally, after about four hours of piss fun, I was released and after a cooling plunge in our pool, we all went into the lounge, where Barbara inserted a tape of the previous day's piss party for Keisha and Alysha's viewing pleasure. For me it wasn't pleasure, it was piss paradise!

An early dinner was the vol au vents and a green tossed salad, washed down by many glasses of Moet et Chandon champagne, although Alysha, being the driver, abstained, contenting herself with Coke.

The next day, I finished my only two appointments before midday – one stunning Hollywood star insisted on starting her work outs at 6.30 in the morning, the next was a 10am job – so I was home by 1pm. Just as I let myself into the house, the phone rang.

I picked it up and heard a deep, golden voice: "Hi Peeper, it's Alysha – remember me?"

How could I forget? A woman whose first contact with your body is her piss flaps on your mouth isn't someone you forget in a hurry!

"Oh, hi Alysha," I replied, trying to sound as natural as a 30-year-old can who has allowed a 20-year-old woman to piss down his throat! "Wazzup?"

She laughed: "Oh, I'm just driving around, I'm near your place and I need to piddle. Can I pop in?"

Could she "pop in"? I was nearly drooling!

"Call me back in one minute, Alysha, I need to check something."

She hung up and I immediately speed dialled my wife's mobile.

"Hi Tom," she said, "I'm trying to clinch a deal, make it fuckin' quick."

"Alysha's just called, she's in the neighbourhood and she wants to come round and piss me – is that OK with you, darling?" I asked, begging her to say yes.

"Fine," said Barbara, "but just piss mind, no hanky-fuckin'-panky." And she hung up.

I stood by the phone, sucking in deep breaths, praying for it to ring. One minute, two, then – finally it rang. I snatched at it: "Alysha? It's fine, come on over."

I dashed upstairs, stripped and pulled on one of my favourite Frederick's of Hollywood satin thongs, a red number, my cock straining stiffly against the shiny fabric.

Back downstairs I was just in time to answer the doorbell's ring and let Alysha into the house. She looked stunning! Her straight black hair shone lustrously, her breasts were bunched up in a vivid yellow halter top, her gorgeous arse and pussy equipment were encased in tight, gleaming black leather hot pants. She wore knee-high boots.

I almost groaned as she stepped into my arms: "Fuck, Alysha, you look good enough to eat!" "That, I am sure, you perverted old Peeper, can be arranged," she laughed, kissing me sweetly on the mouth. Hers tasted like milk chocolate and mint.

"Where shall we go?" I asked, taking her by the hand.

"Upstairs, in your shower, then we can take a shower after I've given you a shower, if you catch my drift," she grinned, and we walked upstairs.

Once in the bedroom, Alysha sat and unzipped her boots, pulled off her yellow top to reveal her bare breasts, then stood to shuck off the hot pants. That left a tiny little black thong, which soon joined the hot pants on the floor.

I pulled off my thong and then took her by the hand and we walked, me stiff-pricked and cock-drooling, into the large shower cubicle in the en suite bathroom.

Alysha's hands pressed on my shoulders and I sank to my knees before her perfumed pussy, its lovely strong feminine odour wafting against my face. Then, without warning, she let go a blast of piss, which splattered against my mouth, nostrils and forehead before cascading down my upper chest and running in rivulets down my belly and onto my cock and balls.

The strong stream finally dried up as I managed to gulp some of her divine nectar down, then I went to work, licking and sucking at her sensational snatch. From above me I felt her switch on the tap and soon warm water was spraying all over our bodies.

I stood and took a bar of soap and began to lather her body, then mine, washing the piss from my face. I then ran my hands over over her lush young body, wiping the soap all over, then watching it rinse away.

As I did Alysha transfixed me with a smile, grabbed my cock and guided it to her water-drenched pussy. I dipped slightly at the knees, then felt my hard-on driving sweetly up her satin-like cunt. Then her mouth was on mine, sucking and nibbling at my lips, then whispering: "I lied about nine inch cocks, Peeper!"

It took only moments for me to come, then we cleaned up again and I knelt on the damp shower floor and gave her a slow licking to orgasm.

After we'd got dressed, I told her: "We'd better keep this our secret, kay Alysha?"

"Whatever you say, Peeper," she smiled and soon after she left with a cheery wave and a "See ya!"

The next day, a Tuesday, I was again home by midday, and lounging by the pool in a posing pouch when the phone again rang. It was another golden brown voice, dark, rich and full of promise, only this time it wasn't Alysha, but her mother.

"Hi Peeper," she drawled, "it's Keisha. I'm driving around with Alysha, we've been on a shopping spree. Since we're in the neighbourhood, what say we pop in. Alysha tells me you're always up for a spot of pee in the middle of the day."

I gulped, then thought of my wife. "Well, I'd better check with Barb," I said, but Keisha was way ahead of me.

"I already have, Peeper," said the 36-year-old millionairess. "She says it's fine, have fun."

"OK," I said, eagerly, "see you when I see you."

I'd only just got inside the house, when Keisha's Mercedes parked in the large circular driveway in front of my wife's mansion. Keisha and Aklysha stepped out, Alysha again in her yellow top and leather hot pants hooker gear, Keisha in a gleaming white leather jump suit. Both looked superb and my cock started to strain at the posing pouch.

After I'd ushered them in, Keisha spotted my penis problem. "Oh look at this divine little posing pouch, Alysha," she laughed. "Isn't it cute, look how it bunches the Peeper's equipment! So sweet!"

Alysha laughed and stepped beside me. "And so fuckin' unnecessary," she smiled, pulling pouch away from my groin, letting my hard-on jut forward, stiff as a board.

"Come on Peeper," she said, grabbing hold of my ball sac, "let's go – same venue, one more lady!"

Upstairs, the two women stripped off, while I discarded the totally superfluous posing pouch.

Then Keisha eyed me with a stern look. "Alysha tells me you know how to use that thing," she said, pointing at my stiffness. Then she stepped into my arms, kissed me slowly on the mouth and whispered: "Show me, Peeper!"

And with that she fell back onto the bed, still grabbing hold of me. As she fell, the black vixen spread her legs, and I lay on top of her full, firm body and guided my cock up her velvet smooth cunt. What a cunt!

As I started to hump her, Keisha smiled and kissed me. "Now, I prefer being on top, Peeper, move over!"

Grabbing her lush bum, I turned her until the big-breasted beauty was on top of me. Then she rose to a kneeling position and bounced up and down on my cock, her 40-inch hooters bobbing and swaying in an erotic shimmy.

"There's one more place for a pussy to go, Alysha," the mother informed her daughter. "See if you can find it!"

Alysha needed no further inviting, and was in a flash seated on my face, my nose stuck against her tight anus, my tongue at work on her moist cunt and lush piss flaps.

This must have continued for about two or three minutes, when I got the fright of my life!

"Thanks ladies, that will do very nicely!"

It was, of course, my wife.

Keisha pulled off my cock, its helmet now pink and on display as the confines of her cunt had pulled my foreskin back to the ring. Alysha similarly dismounted my face.

There, standing beside the bed, clad only in bra and panties, was my wife, Barbara, holding a little digital camera.

"So you couldn't fuckin' help yourself, eh, Peeper?" she snarled, landing a stinging slap across my cheek, as I struggled to sit up and pull back my foreskin to cover my wet cock helmet.

"I, er, I, er" I struggled to come up with some explanation.

"Oh shut the fuck up," snapped Barb. "When Alysha wanted to come around yesterday, what did I tell you? I said piss is fine, but no hanky-fuckin'-panky. And what did you do?"

A silence hung in the air as the two black women, arms folded beneath their lush breasts, stood staring down at me.

"You fucked her, didn't you?"

I lowered my head. Words seem futile.

Barbara continued her tirade: "Alysha came round here yesterday as part of a test to see whether you could keep your fuckin' cock out of her and you fuckin' failed. You tart!"

Then she went on: "Today Keisha came round with her to confirm our fears that you are not only a pervert but a fuckin' philanderer. And I was close behind with my trusty digital camera.

"And what do I find?"

I tried to avert my gaze, I was shamefaced.

"I find that not content with fucking the daughter, you're also into the mother. Is there anyone in Beverly Hills you haven't fucked?"

I tried another explanation. "Well, darling, you see ..."