Symon & Michelle - Poker Night

"So," Symon called out to the five other men. "Anyone gotta piss?"

They all nodded. They all walked over to her. She knelt in the middle of her towels, grinning, rejuvenated. Samuel first pulled out his cock, and she opened her mouth. He stood away, arcing his stream of urine through the air, but managing to aim into her mouth. Then another stream hit her, also mostly in her mouth, but splashing against one cheek. As soon as Samuel finished, Ian stepped up to replace him. His stream didn't aim quite so well, and coated her other cheek.

Then the second man finished, and she caught enough of a glimpse to think it was Sanjay. Josh took his place, somehow hitting square on her tongue. Too much for her to swallow, too many angles, too fast. Her mouth filled up, their liquid spilling over her chin. She found herself tilting back arching her back, hoping to use gravity to save the urine from escaping her. It spilled down and collected at the back of her neck. Finally Terrell stood near her and unleashed his stream.

She gagged involuntarily, she sputtered, she closed her eyes, and her hands found her crotch. She fingered her own clit while the five men showered her once again. So much for being neat. She was coated. When they were done, she grinned open mouthed and let more spill past her lips and down her tongue. She found herself smearing the wet on her tits, and licking her palms.

Terrell and Ian stepped to her and helped her to her feet. Symon stood in front of her.

He looked at her while he spoke to his guests. "My treat, guys. You all get to fuck her. Let's see how much more she can take."

Michelle shivered, felt her eyes glittering, felt her body humming with excitement. Terrell and Ian each took one of her arms and led her back to the table. They helped her lay down on it. She felt Terrell pull out the butt plug. She felt her asshole gaping, aching for something else to fill it. Terrell obliged, sliding in with hardly any need for lube. Ian positioned himself at her head, and she squeezed her tits together for him. He dripped some lube on them, and them slid himself in that nest he seemed to prefer. She licked his balls, nuzzled his perineum with her nose, inhaled his stink.

They started moving in concert, the two men, one at each end of her. The fucked her blindly, and she was blind too. Just an object, just a vessel, just a warm wet space for each of them to nestle their hard and needy cocks. It didn't take either of them long. Ian jerked a few times and spurted all over her stomach. Terrell rammed himself home and unloaded deep in her bowels.

Before she knew what was happening, Sanjay stood where Terrell had been. Samuel stood at her head. He tilted her head down and slid into her mouth. Sanjay slowly worked his gargantuan shaft into her ass, and this time it just felt good. When each of them were settled, they helped her turn onto her side. She wasn't sure why at first, but then Josh stepped up, clasping her hands together. He squirted lube on her palms and slid his cock between them. She understood. It was awkward, impaled on both ends, but steady on her side. Sanjay held her one leg on his shoulder, pushed her other leg bent. Samuel helped her arch her back, and she was able to straighten her neck enough to give him room to fuck her face.

She held Josh's cock in both her hands, starting to stroke him. But he put his hand on her wrist, and moved himself. She relaxed again, shutting down her mind, and just reveling in the feelings of these three men inside her. They moved together, almost in choreography, and they were faster, rougher than the two younger men had been. But again, it didn't take long. Josh grabbed her wrists and pulled her hands off of him so he could jerk himself onto her stomach. As his hot ropes of cum were landing on her, Samuel cried out, pulling out of her mouth and adding his to the mess on her torso.

Sanjay pumped away for another minute, shifting Michelle onto her back and pumping so hard into her that Samuel braced the table to keep it from sliding. Just as Michelle felt an orgasm building, Sanjay stopped and she felt the twitch in his cock as he released the contents of his balls in the same place Terrell had. He pulled out and Michelle lay on the table, panting and shaking.

Each of the men took the time to whisper thanks or appreciation in her ear as they arranged their clothes. She didn't hear them. She drew up her knees to her chest, wrapping her legs with her arms, laying still on the table. She dimly heard the sounds of chairs moving, poker chips shuffling around and the good natured banter of five satisfied men. And one man who would take his satisfaction in a few moments.

Michelle registered that the men were out of the room, congregating in the living room, where Symon thanked them for their time, and said whatever else a good host would say while walking his guests to the door. There was one loud outburst of raucous laughter, followed by his familiar rumble. Michelle willed herself not to drift off. Her night wasn't over.

She sat up, then stood. She thought for a moment, and kicked off the ridiculous heels. She unzipped the bustier, careful not to dislodge the congealing mess of semen on her stomach and tits. She dropped the bustier on the table, then shimmied out of the skirt. She decided to leave the stockings, and the mask. But she also undid the choker; she looked at it, and there was some discoloration at the edges, but it looked otherwise unharmed.

She stood still, listening for Symon's footsteps after he locked up the house. He walked into the dining room, stopping just inside the door.

*~~*

As Symon entered the dining room, Michelle took her spot on the now wet towels, her feet sinking in and squishing as she centered herself. She watched as he strode to the card table and quickly stripped off his clothes. The script was over, play acting done, and Michelle's heart beat rapidly with anticipation and desire. He'd turned his back to her as he unfastened his pants and slipped out of his shoes, and she craned her neck to glimpse his face.

When he turned around, her pussy clenched around the ben wa balls. He glowered at her, almost. His look aimed for disgusted but missed it by a smile. He ducked his head as he sauntered over to her, her favorite cock swinging loose. Her gaze flitted all over his form, alighting briefly at his eyes, then his hands, then his prick, then his mouth. Over and over she checked him in glances as he closed the distance. When he was close enough that his chest took up her field of vision, she lowered her eyes.

He circled her, unspeaking, once and twice and again. Each time tightening the radius. He meant to seem predatory, but the twinkle in his eyes gave him away. Briefly, he stopped in front of her, reached forward and yanked out the ben wa balls in one smooth pull. She gasped at the hollowness inside her groaning, and wanting to replace the silicon orbs with something turgid and hot. The he walked behind her and undid the ribbon holding the mask. He pulled it off of her face, and tossed it in the vicinity of the table.

He bent and whispered, "No time for anonymity now, cunt."

She shivered, deliciously, and he started moving again.

Symon roamed around her one more time, passing close enough to touch, but restraining himself. He stopped again, behind her, watching her tense. Michelle stretched her hands and then rolled them into fists, preventing herself from reaching out for him. She admired his control, if he was half as turned on as she was, he should have been erect and leaking. But his member hung soft, waiting for some signal. Symon's breath blew soft and hot over Michelle's head, then he shifted position, bending slightly so that his voice would sound from just above her ear.

His tone was stern and somehow giddy, the two emotions colliding in the way certain syllables popped out of his mouth, and in the pauses he made. His voice was low, deep in his throat and rough.

"Filthy," Symon said. "You're filthy and you reek of other men."

Michelle's breath slipped out, escaping slowly as she closed her eyes. She breathed in her stink, now heightened by Symon's body heat and seeming to bounce off his chest back at her.

"Slut," he said, dripping the word onto her.

"Tramp, dirty slattern." The syllables tripped down her spine and settled in a puddle at the swale of her ass. He kept on, dredging up every synonym for slut that he could think of as Michelle relaxed into the verbal onslaught. He trailed a fingernail up her spine and she rolled her back into it.

She shivered as his fingernail passed between her shoulder blades and across, and as she felt his hand walking up, around her neck. She sighed, waiting for him to claim her. He never moved fast, anymore, if he was planning to bind her with his hands. He made her wait, wanted her to realize that she was culpable in her ultimate immobility. So it was then, as he traced the line of her shoulder and slipped his hand around her throat.

He kept talking, telling her how wanton and useless she was. He spoke of her unnatural desires, and the disgust anyone would feel to know her, to know how she liked to be treated. His thumb slid along her jawline to the hinge, while his fingers stretched out and captured the other side of her mandible. He pressed, digging his fingertips in, twisting her head up and toward him. He locked her into his one armed embrace, while she kept her hands clamped together behind her back.

He pulled her to him, the top of her head back and almost touching his chest. He leaned down, stepping away from her slightly, and touched his lips to the top of her ear. He dropped his voice, speaking only for her, directly into her, and his every word served to double her arousal. She'd bitten her lips together, biting down on the insides to stop herself from begging him to do more than talk.

He reminded her how many men had used her already that night, how many loads from how many sets of balls. He cataloged all the places that cum splattered her or dripped out of her, and she twisted her hips. As he spoke, she felt more leaking from her ass, felt the gelatinous globes on her tits and stomach drying. He told her that crack whores didn't have as many customers in a night as she'd taken, and promised, once again to turn her out on the street to peddle her ass.

Then his fingers dug into her jaw again, and she opened her mouth. Then his other hand was at her pussy, flicking her lips, slapping lightly.

"Look at me," he commanded.

She forced her eyes open, staring into his and another moan poured from her between them. His fingers slipped into her vulva, finding her slit and rocking back and forth along the length.

She stared at him, at his eyes, hardly able to focus because he stood so closely to her, because of the angle, because all she could think about was how she needed him to fuck her.

"You're some kind of creature, aren't you?" he mused. "What kind though?"

His fingers kept working in her, finding her clit, softly circling it before sliding deeper into her.

"A piss covered cumslut?"

She inhaled, pressing her hips out wanting more contact with him.

He shook his head. "A cum covered piss slut." Her eyes fluttered, closing briefly before she managed to wrench them open again.

He nodded, triumphantly. "That's it then. Cum covered piss slut. Piss slut." He repeated, making the phrase hard on the edges and soft, sibilant in the middle. "Pissslut. Pisss ssslut."

His hand in her crotch was working harder, drawing out her wetness, teasing with the promise of an orgasm. She groaned.

"Look at me, piss slut," he said again. When she made herself focus, he said, "You need to piss."

It wasn't a question. It wasn't even an assertion. It was a demand.

He made it explicit. "If you want to cum. You have to piss."

His hand stilled, between her legs. She shifted her weight, one foot to the other, the towels squelching and moisture soaking into stockings. He leaned over her, pressing his forehead to hers, looking down her body to his hand. She arched her back, pushing out her hips, twisting her feet. His fingers danced again barely brushing her sensitized clit and lips.

She inhaled, he exhaled over her. She closed her eyes and the first few drops of her urine squirted out. She rocked back on her heels, planting her feet more firmly, and bore down. When she managed to unleash the contents of her bladder, he started fingering her again. His hand slapping wetly on her vulva and his fingers dove deep into her and back out over her clit. He wriggled his hand, splashing her thighs with her own mess watching the minute twitches in her stomach and legs as she forced herself to let go.

Michelle sighed, relieved to be emptying her bladder, while at the same time her arousal and shame battled each other. Even as her nose wrinkled against the smell, and her skin registered the hot splashes, she found herself rising up on her toes. She reached for Symon with her mouth, pressing into him, twisting on one leg, aching, aching for his touch. His hand worked her for forcefully, his fingers plunging into the hot swamp of her cunt and drawing out her sighs and moans along with her juice.

As she reached her peak, tripping up and over, down and into a climax, Symon covered her mouth with his, he gagged her with his tongue. She groaned into him, shuddering and shaking, her hips jerking in tight circles as she coaxed more of him inside her. When Symon felt her clenching around his fingers, he claimed her all over again. He drew back his hand, released her mouth from his, and pushed his fingers there. She licked and sucked herself, her piss and her cum, off of him, and he lowered her to the floor.

She knelt at first, then lay back. She bent her legs, heels to her ass, knees splayed wide, showing herself off for him. Her arms stretched over her head, and her back arched. Symon stood over her, one foot on either side of her head. Then he stepped to the side, tugged on his dick, and aimed at her face. They stared at each other, Michelle writhing, rolling hips and shoulders, her mouth opening and closing.

Symon paced around her again, thinking, finding an angle he liked, planning. He stopped near her feet.

"Piss slut. That's a good name for you." He bent slightly at the waist, catching her eye, waiting until she stilled herself. "I should make you beg me. You want this, piss slut." He caressed himself, pressing his dick to his stomach and letting it fall again. He stood straight, watching.

Michelle opened her mouth. She licked her lips, tasting her own odor, mixed with his, mixed with the myriad flavors of the rainbow of maleness he'd brought her. She half sat up, legs spread wide and still bent, meaning to get to her knees and fix her mouth to her favorite cock. But mid-movement, Symon stopped her by letting loose. He'd been holding his water all night, longer than she had, most of the day really, and he was full to the brim.

He aimed at her forehead, coating her face. She shut her eyes just in time. She opened her mouth, tongue hanging out like an overheated dog. She caught his stream on her lips, sucked it in and managed to get to her knees. She leaned into his urine and he moved his aim, splashing and splattering on her tits. She cupped her own breasts, squeezing them together, and he filled the indentation of her cleavage with his piss, until it overflowed and she let her tits drop. He soaked her stomach, soaked her pussy, and then managed to draw his stream up again. He stepped closer and closer to her, and by the time he aimed for her mouth again, he put the tip of his cock on her tongue.

She let her mouth fill with his juice, savoring his smell, savoring his acrid, bitter taste that she knew so well. She swallowed, her eyes closed in delight and still he filled her. She let the spillage out over her cheeks knowing that meant he claimed her and he marked her as his own. His bladder empty, Symon stepped even closer, and Michelle took his shaft in her mouth and sucked the last few drops straight from the source.

He stood there, knowing she would keep going, and knowing he was so aroused that the slightest touch from her would trigger his hard-on. It had taken all of his control to stay soft enough to piss. He judged it a worthy use of his will power. She sucked him, licking his shaft, cleaning him in the dirtiest way.

With one firm lick from his base he engorged, hardening so swiftly that it almost hurt. His blood filling his shaft in a rush of unbridled desire and lust. He stared down at her as she tried to fit his steel rod in her mouth. He shoved into her needing to get into her, to be surrounded by her dark wet heat.

He growled, unthinkingly, and dropped to his knees. He clapped his hands to her head and fairly glued their mouths together. His tongue sought the very back of her mouth and she opened herself to him fully. He pulled up straightening, and tipped them both over.

Michelle fell onto her back, onto the pile of wet towels. Symon landed on top of her, grinding down into her and using his weight to pin her. When their mouths finally parted, Michelle gasped, panting and immediately latched on to Symon's nipple, sucking and licking. He slid down her body, pushing her down into the floor, dragging his iron cock along until its tip found her mound. He used one hand to guide himself, and then shoved in one swift movement, all the way to his base.

Michelle lost her hold on his nipple, throwing her head back and moaning. She bent her legs, clamping her knees to his ribs as Symon started pumping with abandon. He leaned on his elbows, which dug into her shoulders, pinning her to him, preventing her from sliding. She wrapped one hand around the back of his neck, and dug her fingers into the back of his shoulder. She claimed him, pinning him to her, owning him as completely as he owned her.

They grunted and groaned together; they moaned and murmured obscenities to each other. Symon buried himself as deeply in Michelle's body as he could, and she clung to him and dared him to go further. Her fingernails marked his back. His teeth marked her shoulder. His hips pummeled into hers, grinding her into the floor as his ass clenched and bucked and bore down on her.

Michelle felt a deep heat growing in her, felt her muscles tensing, her breath catching. She distantly heard herself crying out, short sharp screams with each forced exhalation. Her legs locked around him and as her orgasm hit, the sensations bludgeoned her, attacking from all sides and leaving her uncomprehending. She collapsed, weak and dizzy, and still Symon thrust and rocked into her.

She held him lightly now, watching, whispering, cajoling and begging him to lose himself in her. Somehow he managed to move faster, to press deeper, and then he let go. He arched his back and howled at the ceiling, his legs straight, balanced on his toes and his full weight cementing them together at the pelvis. He shook, shuddered, and fell, his arms giving way under him.

Michelle caught him, cradling his head, her legs wrapping around him and preventing him from sliding off of her. They lay, entwined, panting, hearts still racing, their eyes closed, and the room spinning around them. She held him still as he shook in her arms. Then he took a deep breath, and moved slightly, tucking his head into her shoulder, but propped on his own arm. He traced his fingers down her arm, then wove their fingers together.

He kissed her cheek and she finally unwound her legs and let him ease onto his side next to her. He helped her roll over so she faced him. He studied the contours of her face, searched in her eyes and found her serene and sated. She put her hand on his heart, searched in his eyes and found his emotions mirrored hers.