When my cousin spent the summer with my family ten years ago, I had no idea how important that summer would become in my life. I'm 29 now, and with my childhood entirely behind me, I can honestly say that she changed my life, and may be the most fascinating person I'll ever meet. I loved that summer, but I kick myself to this day that I didn't have a fuller appreciation of just how special it and she was.
Her name is Angela, but everyone calls her Angie. Growing up, I rarely saw her; Angie's family lived on Long Island and between her mom's legal practice and her dad's surgical career, they were usually too busy to visit with my family. When they weren't totally enmeshed in the pursuit of ever-increasing wealth, Angie's family was taking vacations to Europe or the Caribbean. Theirs was a life of upscale privilege, and came in stark contrast to the childhood I experienced with my family, who lived a much more middle-class lifestyle down on the Jersey shore.
As the years went by, my whole family noticed a change in Angie's side of the family. They seemed to be increasingly taken with their growing social status, and appeared to start looking down at their less successful relatives. No one ever said anything out in the open, maybe because no one was really sure if it was really an arrogance on their part or a jealousy on ours. At least that was true among the adults, but the change in Angie's attitude was painfully obvious to my youthful eyes. She started to show the corruption of over-indulgence by her parents in her early teens, and her arrogant attitude was more palpable every time I saw her. By the time she'd reached high school, she showed all the symptoms of a spoiled brat, although she had the sense to at least attempt to hide it around my parents.
When Angie graduated high school, she decided she was too "grown up" to go on another one of her parents' fabled summer-long trips to Australia. After much squabbling, Angie's parents finally gave in to her demand not to go, but only on the condition that she spend the summer at our house, presumably so that my parents could keep something of an eye on her. At first, my mom wasn't too wild about the idea, what with hints floating about that Angie was a little "wild", but in the end she agreed, and the stage was set for this fateful summer.
I may not have liked Angie all that much, but frankly I was so wrapped in my own life that I didn't give much thought to her staying with us for the summer. I'd just finished my freshman year in college, and was planning on taking it easy with my friends or working to earn money for next year's tuition, so I didn't expect to be in the house much, let alone have to bother with her.
After tearless goodbyes at Newark Airport, Angie finally arrived at our doorstep, driven by a stretch limo, naturally. She didn't disappoint any of my expectations regarding her attitude either. She looked at me through her dark sunglasses, and said, "Hi, Brad. Looks like you're still wearing the same clothes as the last time I saw you, which was what... ...2 years ago?" I'd swear I could see her roll her eyes, as she put one of suitcases in front of me as though I were some kind of goddamn bellhop.
She'd only just graduated from high school, but she acted like she knew everything. Her assuming attitude really made my blood boil, and yet I actually picked up her bag and took it to her room. "Angie," I said, "this is just an old t-shirt." She mouthed the words "no shit" silently to me, but I ignored it. "I may be wearing the same old clothes, but you're still the same old snot!" She turned her attention away from me, making a dismissive motion with her hand as though I was some sort of annoying gnat.
"Yeah. OK. Whatever. I have to unpack now and I'm tired, alright, so uh..." she said, waving her hand at me.
"Sheesh!" I said, and walked out. I went to my room and pondered what I was going to do with this, this... bitch this summer. She acted as though she had some innate superiority that was part of her birthright. My plan to generally disregard her now definitely seemed like a good one.
Still the "guy" part of me couldn't help but be impressed with her; she was a stunning sight to see. She had long chestnut hair and deep brown eyes, with a perfect amount of understated makeup. Her grooming and dress had the careful attention to detail that spoke of money and class. She stood about 5'7", and by the looks of things she must have weighed about 125 lbs, most of which she carried in her breasts and her ass. Her waist was tiny, and legs were extremely long. As I lay on my bed, hands behind my head, staring at the ceiling, I pondered how a real live human being could actually look like that, and realized her arrogant attitude was fueled by more than money. Her striking appearance complemented her demeanor in such a way that she almost gave off the essence of royalty, or at least the closest thing you can come to that in New Jersey. She was gorgeous, and she was all too aware of it.
Unfortunately so were my friends soon after that, and that pretty much spoiled any opportunity to avoid her. Even though I tried to keep her out of my business as much as possible, they kept coming by when they knew she was home, or inviting her to go along with us to the mall. She inevitably began to get to know some of them pretty well, and it seemed that they increasingly became HER friends, not mine, which pissed me off. It doesn't take long for a bunch of horny guys to accept a beautiful girl into their clique, and so I now found myself spending much more time with Angie than I had wanted to.
Strangely, even though she seemed to regard me with some disdain, she accepted my friends openly, and I could see that she could be quite engaging and friendly if she wanted to be. She seemed to have it in for me somehow, and our strained beginning only got worse as she began hogging the bathroom for hours at a time, and giving me a hard time about sharing the household chores. She often would not do them, and the laundry was a definite sore spot.
One early evening after dinner, an argument over that laundry finally got out of hand. As if the clock on our maturity had turned back 10 years, we started squabbling about the chore. It was pretty comical when I think about how petty the argument was, but at the time, we were both taking it very seriously. True, she had just done the dinner dishes for the last two nights in a row, but my friends and I were going to the boardwalk and I really wanted to go especially since Jeanine Fitzgerald, who I thought was fucking HOT, was expected to be there...
Our argument turned into a real fight, with me venting all of my frustrations over her disruption of my life since coming to stay with us. Frankly I was just tired of her bitchy attitude, especially since I hadn't even acknowledged to myself why I wanted her positive attention so badly. The fight got so bad, my Mom and Dad came out into the kitchen and when my Dad comes out, that means major trouble even if you're 19! He slammed his hand down on the kitchen table, bringing us both to dead silence.
"I'm tired of hearing about the goddamn laundry!" he barked. "Angie, you did the dishes for the last couple of nights, right? Well, you'll keep doing them and Brad, YOU will do the laundry from now on. Now that's IT!" he said as he turned on his heels and walked out of the kitchen, my mom in tow.
Angie turned to me triumphantly and stuck out her tongue. "Too bad about your friends now, Bradley, my boy. Maybe I'll say hi to Jeanine for you! Happy sock washing!" and she too strode out of the room. The feeling of hatred I felt for her at that moment seemed to be exacerbated by the fact that I simply could not help thinking she looked especially hot in those cut-off jeans and white tank top...
I stormed down into our basement and sat stewing in my misery. That BITCH, I thought. Everything seems to go her way. After a while I began to regain my cool, and I got up and began the task of sorting the laundry. I hated doing laundry, but not nearly as much as the dishes, so I began to think that maybe this isn't going to so bad.
As I began loading the whites into the washer, I noticed a pair of Angie's underwear in the pile. I picked them up, wondering how I might use them to somehow get back at her. I was thinking about some particularly nefarious uses for chili powder as I idly turned the panties inside out.
Suddenly, I felt faint when I saw the lightly soiled, and slightly damp, crotch. I felt an involuntary stirring in my crotch, and even as I railed against these erotic feelings, I brought the dampened fabric up to my nose as if in response to an irrefutable impulse. I felt stunned at the unbelievably pleasant scent. I felt ensconced in the aura of her sex, so natural and feminine. Musky and very sexy. Forgetting my vendetta against Angie, I rubbed my nose into the thinly crusted cotton, and felt my cock grow rock hard in my pants.
As I sniffed her dirty underwear, I felt a growing conflict stir inside me. These underwear belonged to my snotty cousin, whom I hated. Yet, she was so hot! I allowed my mind to pour over the details of her sweet body. Her breasts were a little oversized for such a slim frame, and they had a great shape to them. Her nipples were big enough that if she were cold, you could tell even when she wore thick bras. And I hated to admit it, but her ass was even better than Jeanine Fitzgerald's, and I loved Jeanine Fitzgerald's ass. In fact I'd often stroked myself thinking about Jeanine's ass.
I pressed the obscene stain firmly into my nose and took a deep breath. The sweet musky scent of pussy was intermingled with just a touch of piss. God, how could piss smell so good, I wondered! In the erotic heat of the moment, I thought that maybe she really was a goddess of some sort. I felt shame at the thought that Angie's sex, even when coupled with faint traces of her urine, turned me on so much. I pulled down my pants and began to jerk off with my cousin's underwear pressed into my face. After a few short minutes, I spunked all over my hand.
Suddenly feeling overwhelmingly ashamed and self-conscious, I quickly cleaned myself off with the underwear and finished my chore with the laundry. The whole experience filled me with self-disgust, and I tried to put it behind me and forget about the whole thing.
Nevertheless, I had crossed a threshold to a completely different view of my cousin, and ignoring my new-found awareness of her body and intimate knowledge of her personal odors was now impossible. I managed to put her underwear into the washer without giving it any special attention just once, and then each time I did laundry after that, I spent more and more time fondling, studying, smelling and even tasting her underwear. It filled me with guilt and shame, but I couldn't help myself. This was especially frustrating since I felt so at odds with Angie. She already seemed to think I was little more than an ameoba. What would she think if she found out that faint strains of her piss were enough to make me do incredibly degrading things with her underwear? Angie's underwear varied, but sometimes they were very strong with the smell of her pussy and urine. Somehow this drew a compellingly submissive reaction from me. I felt like I had secretly become enslaved by her.
However, I made sure not to let my private change in feelings toward Angie show. My dirty little secret began to have strange side effects though; her snotty demeanor now seemed oddly enticing to me now. Quietly, I had stopped expressing resentment at her constant presence around my friends, since it meant she was also around me. If only she knew how I had grown to love doing her laundry, pathetically sniffing the traces of her bodily fluids and waste!
The submissiveness of it grew very clear to me as I realized one very important thing in the next few weeks: I enjoyed her underwear the most when the smell of her urine was strongest. I enjoyed it even more than the smell of her pussy. I actually got off on the fact that it was her piss, and that sniffing it made me some sort of dirty pig. I had grown to crave the smell. I considered it a special treasure when the scent was strong, and even kept at least one pair of her underwear for myself at all times the pair with the strongest urine scent. Luckily, she never seemed to make the connection when a favorite pair of her underwear would disappear, then reappear a week or so later.
One time, a pair of her underwear was still wet from what was clearly pee. She must have some sort of accident, and I felt an odd mixture of glee and a mild revulsion at that glee. I almost came before I got my pants down.
About mid-summer, sometime after July 4th the way I remember it, I started noticing a change in Angie's laundry. Her underwear seemed to be coming down to the laundry basket dirtier and dirtier. If the first time were an accident, she was starting to have accidents more often. Sometimes the underwear was so dirty, it seemed that she must have worn the same pair for a couple of days in a row. It was so out of character for her to be wearing dirty underwear, and it made me wonder what might be going on.
Her socks also seemed much more rank. The first time I noticed that, I hadn't even brought her socks to my nose. Even at arm's length the reek was an overpowering sweaty, almost cheesy scent. I rubbed the socks into my nose and was amazed by the sense of worship they invoked. They smelled so bad, and I felt quite humiliated at the erection they produced. After I came smelling my cousin's stinky socks, I smelled her rank foot odor on my face for the rest of the day, keeping me in a state of continual semi-arousal and shame.
Coincidentally, my cousin and I began to get along better, though I noticed she still acted like she was too good for me. Maybe it was because I was accepting that attitude. Sort of like that bumper sticker that says, "we'll get along just fine when you realize I'm God." I wondered if she had any idea how I had grown to have a secret affair with her body through her clothes, and that I adored her in a most degrading way. I supposed she didn't, but on more than one occasion, she actually covered for me with my parents, and so I reciprocated the treatment. We seemed to come to an unspoken understanding and maybe even began to enjoy each other's company a little.
In spite of the pleasure I was gleaning from this series of events, I became increasingly troubled as thoughts about my very nature began to pop up ever more frequently. Why was I enjoying things others (including myself I thought) would find distasteful? I'd always kind of went with the flow when guys would joke that women smelled like fish, but had never really believed it. I liked the smell of pussy.
What I found most disturbing about this whole thing with Angie's underwear was the fact that my enjoyment didn't stem from thinking that Angie's underwear didn't stink, it stemmed from the fact they DID very much stink! Especially when the scent of her urine was strong, I could not in any way objectively rationalize that the underwear really smelled good. And yet, the foulness of the scent drew me more than ever to want to smell it, to taste it, to...
On rare occasions, Angie's underwear were soiled by more than just piss, and when that happened my pleasure was never greater. Once, I could smell a definite farty, anal scent toward the rear of her beloved underwear, and when I came, I remember distinctly concentrating on the fact that that smell meant traces of Angie's waste were literally inside my body. Up to that time, it was the most intense orgasm I'd ever felt.
Whatever the reason, the fact stood that the faint scent of my cousin's piss and shit drew unflagging worship from me. Was it in my innate nature to worship her? Was she in fact superior to me by virtue of her beauty and attitude, by birthright, in fact? Even as I squirmed inside at these thoughts, the mere thought of such a possibility gave me indescribable excitement.
I felt my self-esteem begin to lower, and I fantasized that that was because I was preparing to follow my true calling: to be Angie's slave.
Then came one night that I'll remember until the day I die. The evening began normally enough. After dinner everyone was doing their usual routine; my Mom and Dad went off to the family room, precious Angie began to do the dishes, and I went downstairs to do the laundry. I couldn't be sure but I would have sworn that I saw a smirk flash across my cousin's face as I headed for the basement door.
This time, when I came to Angie's underwear and turned them inside out to view the beloved crotch, I was shocked at what I encountered. The crotch itself was quite heavily soaked and even a little crusty. There was a brown streak behind the mixture of girl-juices. It looked like she'd worn them for a week and had masturbated in them everyday! They were nearly soaked with a combination of pussy juice and pee, and I wondered how dirty her asshole must have been to produce such a visibly nasty skid mark. I'd seen dirty underwear from her before, but these were absolutely filthy!
I lifted the crotch to my face and drew in the overpowering scent, which immediately gave me a throbbing hard-on. I thought I might pass out, and then I felt an inner peace overcome me. In masturbation at least, I finally gave into the power of my fantasy to be my cousin's slave. I accepted that it was in my very nature to enjoy the filth of her body, that I was in the overall scheme of things, a bottom feeder, at least sexually. I kissed the brown stain in her underwear with reverence, as though it were heaven-sent. I embraced the once nagging realization that I was getting a hard-on from the smell of her piss, and now her shit, for christ's sake! I was Angie's slave, and she didn't even know it!
I put the underwear on my head so that the piss/pussy-juice soaked crotch was right over my nose, and the brown shit-stain over my mouth and began sucking the filth into my mouth. She must have come in these underwear a half dozen times I thought as I drew the mixture into my mouth. The urine seemed concentrated and stale, and the darker anal tastes were simply enslaving. I pulled down my pants and began stroking my cock when a creaking sound at the cellar steps made me snap my head around in dreadful horror.
There was Angie on the steps staring at me with a huge, evil, smirk on her face.
"GodDAMN, Bradley!" she whispered at me, "you are some kind of major league sicko pervert, aren't you?" She stifled a laugh.
I quickly yanked my pants up, but had somehow momentarily forgotten that I was looking at her through the leg holes of her very very dirty underwear, and that the nastiest part of those underwear were still in my mouth.
"Are those my underwear?", she continued, whispering. "Now I know how you get them so clean!" And this time she laughed a little more audibly.
I suddenly became very aware of my parents sitting a mere few feet directly above us. I yanked the underwear off of my head, and began stammering, "please don't tell my Mom and Dad, Angie! I'll do anything, just don't tell them!"
She continued staring at me as though she didn't even hear me. "A couple of weeks ago, I decided to play a little joke on you and wore a pair of socks for three days in a row before throwing them down here. God they stunk!" she said and laughed. "But you didn't say a word so I became suspicious. Last night, I peeked in on you through that window over there," she said, pointing at a storm window at the top of one of the walls in our cellar.
"That's when I found out what a total perv you are," she said, laughing out loud through a deliciously evil smirk.
My mother called down from upstairs, and my heart jumped in my throat! But Angie called up, "It's OK! I'm helping Brad with the laundry!" Mom replied in that motherly tone, "Wow, that's great! I think it's wonderful how well you two kids are getting along now!"
Angie walked over to me, looked down at the underwear and then back at me. "I heard about guys like you, but I didn't think it could be real. You're like some kind of underwear perv!" She snickered, and said, wrinkling her nose, "I guess by the smell of things you're some kind of piss perv, too, aren't you?" The gesture, which was soaked with an intoxicating mixture of bemused arrogance, awe, and some repulsion, seemed to make her look more beautiful to me than ever. I wondered if she could see the adoration in my eyes.
"Shut up, Angie", I protested weakly.
"Well, aren't you?", she taunted, and held up the underwear to my face, putting the dark, saliva soaked streak right up under my nose. "I watched you yank on your... thing..." She looked at my crotch, briefly, "...until you came the other night, with my underwear stuffed in your mouth! And I know for a fact they were very dirty; I pissed in them!"
I was overwhelmed with a compunction to drop to my knees and beg her to let me worship her, to do unspeakable things for her amusement. And before I could catch myself, I was on my knees, even though I felt totally humiliated and realized it would establish in finality her superiority over me.
"God, please don't tell anyone! I don't know why I do it! I just saw your dirty underwear and it got me to thinkingΠ"
"Thinking what?" she retorted. She assumed a mock voice and said, "Geez, here's my little cousin's dirty underwear! I wonder what they taste like!" and she laughed with glee. "Damn," she teased, her voice dripping with derision, "these underwear are soaked in piss. You may as well just let me piss right on your face! I bet you'd like that, wouldn't you?"
The suggestion hit me with the violence of a train. Just hearing her utter thoughts like that seemed impossible. I just stared up at her with what must have been a pathetic display of silent pleading. She may have taken my silence as a confirmation of her rude comments about me, but I couldn't be sure. I just kept feeling hope that she would agree not to tell anyone, and maybe, just maybe that she might like seeing me in such a pitifully humiliating state. Like a wolf smelling fear, she seemed to grow more arrogant as I grew more desperate. My cousin had me by the balls, and we both knew it.
"OK," she said, and a malicious smile began to grow on her face, "here's the deal. I won't tell anyone." She pulled a pack of bubble gum from her jeans, and popped a piece into her mouth while she stared down her nose at me.
"Thank you, thank you!" I said, as I stood back up, "You're the best, Angie! I promise I'll never do it again -- "
"Not so fast, Bradley, my boy,. I have to get something out of this too, y'know," she said, loudly snapping the gum. "Hmmm... let me see. You have to be my slave for the rest of the summer" she smiled cruelly and added, "...And I get to do with you or to you whatever I wish, no matter what." I'd never seen such utter satisfaction as she watched my face contort with disbelieving horror and excitement. Then to complete the deal she said, "And then maybe I'll let you off the hook!"
"Umm, OK, Ang, just please don't tell anybody anything about this."
"OK, but you have let me do anything I want. Anything."
"OK...," I started, "Like what?"
"AHA! Already some doubts, eh??? DEAL'S OFF!!"
"No, no, no! I'm sorry whatever you want pleeeease!"
"OK, but if I so much as fart, I want you on your knees in a heartbeat trying to sniff it all up, do you hear?"
"OK, alright!"
"No, I don't think you get it," she said. She reached over for the dirty underwear, looked at the filthy crotch for a moment. Then she held them to my face and said, "Kiss them."
I looked at her doubtfully for a moment, but the look on her face quickly warned me to comply. Embarrassed beyond anything I'd ever experienced in my life, I bent over and kissed the underwear, grudgingly, and was careful to kiss the cleanest piece of cloth I could find.
"No, no," she smirked. "Right here." And she pointed to the thick brown stain. I hesitated, and she added, "That's right. Kiss the skidmarks in my underwear."
This time I felt broken by the humility, and figuring it was no use to attempt to retain any dignity, I leaned forward and place my lips square on the stain, and held them there. The dread in my heart was no competition to the erotic scent that wafted off the underwear, and I immediately began to spring a hard on.
The look on her face was amazing. She looked almost glassy-eyed as she bore witness to my humiliation. She seemed to soak in every detail.
"I'm sorry, but that is so hot," she said. "There's something about watching you on your knees, kissing what is essentially a shit stain in my underwear right in front of me. You should see yourself! You look like you could cry from the humiliation!"
She suddenly pulled the underwear away, and leaned down until our lips were nearly touching. I thought she was going to kiss me and it startled me, but she just sniffed.
"Gawdamn," she exclaimed, "You stink!" And then she giggled. "I can smell my piss on your face!" she added gleefully. She pulled back and delighted in this thought for a moment.
Then like watching a light go on in her head, I could see she just had some devilish thought come to her. "Alright, Brad, you're not going to like this, but I need some proof that you're going to keep up your end of the bargain. A test if you will."
I gulped.
Her face looked downright evil in it's glee. "Here's the test... You have to let me mark you as my slave."
"What?" I asked in surprise. "What do you mean? Are we talking a tattoo? You want to brand me or something?" I asked doubtfully.
"Noooo," she said. "I want to mark you as mine. As my territory, so to speak. Like dogs do..."
"What are you talking about , Angie?" I really had no clue where she was going with this.
"I want to piss on you. Mark you."
Suddenly, my increasing doubts came to a head. Although I'd often fantasized about something sort of like that, I'd never really come that far, even in fantasy. It had always surrounded simply sniffing her underwear, or cleaning them with my mouth. Additionally, the implications of allowing a fantasy no matter how exciting to become reality were not lost on me. It would change me; it would change both of us forever. Partially to not give in too easily, I scream-whispered at her, "No fucking way!"
"Aunt Jeanine!" she called upstairs lightly and confidently, and I felt a sudden clutch of fear kick me in the nuts, like the feeling you get in free fall or when riding a particularly scary roller coaster. I felt my hard-on wilt. She paused to enjoy the raw fear on my face and continued, "Is it OK if Brad and I go down to the boardwalk tonight?" Then she looked down at me with smug triumph.
As my Mom called down her approval, I folded inwardly. I resigned myself to letting my 18-year old cousin have her way with me, in any way that she wanted, not merely in fantasy, but in real life. I knew it would define me to her for as long as she knew me, and it would mean she could look at me and say to herself "I made him do this... or do that..." No words can describe the combination of elation and defeat I felt at her hands at that moment. I knew I was at her mercy and I could feel to my soul that there was not going to be much mercy to be had.
"Alright," I agreed meekly.
"Really??," she cried out in surprise. "Are you serious???"
"Yes," I said to my own disbelief. Then she began to unzip her jeans.
"Right now?!?" I protested.
"Sure," she said with an easy air, "you can strip down afterwards and wash your own clothes before coming upstairs."
"What'll I wear? Mom and Dad'll wonder why I'm spending the whole night downstairs!"
"You'll think of something," she laughed between snaps of the gum. I stared in disbelief at her body as she did that little hip shifting thing girls do when they're pulling off tight clothes. The sight secured me to my fate as certainly as any physical contraption could. Still, the erotic tension conflicted dramatically with the dread that gripped me. This all seemed to be happening so suddenly, so fast.
Finally, she'd gotten her pants down and kicked them off. I was now staring at a pair of underwear that I recognized as a pair that I had sniffed, licked, and washed a half dozen times in the last 2 months. But this time they were still on Angie, and I hated to admit it, but my cock belied an eagerness to comply with Angie's meanest wish that I could not deny. I felt mesmerized at the sight of her thinly veiled pussy, and I swear I could smell her wonderful scent, though that may have simply been from her underwear on my face earlier.
Angie looked thoughtfully for a moment as though she were thinking about something, and then said, "Get on your knees. Maybe I'll make another deal with you that might let you off the hook..."
"On my knees?"
"Yeah, of course! You didn't think I was going to piss on your leg or something did you?" she giggled. "Don't worry, like I said maybe we can work something out that might get you off the hook."
I reluctantly dropped to my knees in front of her. Now I could see her underwear more clearly, and I could definitely smell her scent. That scent really had the power to make me lose all rationale...
"Kiss my feet," she said, "and if you do a good job, I won't... ...well, you know!" I found her momentary shyness incredibly charming.
"Just kiss them, right?" I asked tentatively, feeling that an out was a good thing at this time, in spite of the pressure of my excitement. The demeaning nature of literally being pissed on just seemed too much.
"Yeah, I guess," she answered slowly, as though she might reconsider, "but, I'll be more impressed if you lick them good too!" And she giggled as she shifted one foot forward. She was wearing those socks they called "peds" that were so popular at the time, with the little ball at the heel. I noticed they had that two- or three-day scent to them that I had grown weak from.
I peeled the moist sock off of her foot, and heard her giggle in anticipation of my dirty deed. I bowed down before her and kissed her foot. The truth is, as rank as it was, it somehow smelled beautiful to me. I warmed to my task as I kissed each toe. I began to lick in between each of her toes, savoring (or enduring) the sweaty cheesy taste.
Then, placing the side of my face fully on the cold cement cellar floor, I began to kiss the arch of her foot. I began slavishly trying to lick the bottom of her foot. While my tongue ran along the underside of the sweaty arch of her foot, I was also forced to lick the cellar floor, too. I knew that she would notice that I was going above and beyond the call of duty, and that this would expose my weaknesses to her, but I was beyond caring.
Suddenly, I began to hear a trickling sound, and then I noticed her foot was wet. I tentatively licked a droplet off of her foot, and just before I realized what it was, I felt a rivulet of hot fluid begin to run down beside my ear and down onto my neck. I was in such shock I couldn't move. The trickling sound grew to more of a splash, and I could feel the hot liquid spraying down on the side of my head.
I lifted my head off the floor and looked up at Angie. She had spread her legs and pulled her underwear to one side. I saw her beautiful pussy for the first time, no more than a foot or so from my face. I could smell the sweet pungency of pussy juice over the heady urine. Suddenly my vision blurred as a hot stream of blinding piss shot from her pussy, directly into my face. Shame burned inside of me as I realized that my cousin had just made me lick her feet and was now pissing on my face anyway. In spite of my obvious willingness to degrade myself for her, she had tricked me into even greater humiliation!
I felt an odd and very powerful combination of outrage, arousal and helplessness! I could have moved but my desire wouldn't let me, and I knelt there and let my cousin continue to piss on me. My own arousal had enslaved me to her. After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably no more than three or four seconds, I finally began to come to my senses and react.
I opened my mouth to say something to her, but she directed her stream right into my mouth and hissed at me to shut up. In utter shock, I clamped my mouth and eyes shut as the hot flow splashed all over my clenched lips, some going up my nose.
Her piss rolled around in my closed mouth as she continued to piss on my face. I was shocked at the taste a little salty and pungent but mostly, well sweet! I had piss in my mouth and it tasted GOOD to me! I suddenly felt I had no choice but to swallow, and I did, and that was the first time I ever drank someone else's piss, let alone right in front of them.
Suddenly the flow of hot piss all over my face stopped. I opened my eyes and saw that she was quite flushed. She'd even stopped snapping her gum, but she didn't seem the slightest bit embarrassed about her naked pussy being available to my gawking eyes.
Looking down at me she spoke awkwardly, "You... you... drank it, didn't you? I can't believe I just saw you drink my piss!" Then she sneered, "Open your mouth again, or I'll tell your Mom everything. I swear." The amused smirk from before had given away to something much more serious and dangerous on her beautiful face. She seemed so powerful and irresistible.
I opened my mouth, and she move her hips forward and down so that her stiff clit just touched my upper lip, her pussy hair tickling my nose. Over the strong stench of her urine, I could smell the sweet strains of her wet pussy more strongly than ever. I felt some of her girl-juice starting to flow from the lips of her pussy. I'd never experienced anything so powerfully erotic or beautiful in my entire life.
Then the pissing resumed. Most of her piss went right into my open, waiting mouth. The rest sprayed all over my lips, chin, cheeks, and neck.
This time I forced myself to keep my eyes open so that I would not miss any of this spectacle. Some droplets splashed up into my eyes, and it stung, but I quickly blinked and reopened my eyes. Extreme humiliation overcame me, and my cheeks grew hot with the stinging degradation. When her piss filled my mouth, I gulped it down, and I savored what it was like to have another person's waste in my body.
She gawked in surprise as she continued to witness me voluntarily drinking her nasty piss like it was delicious. The look on her face clearly showed she was basking in every second of this ultimate stroke to her ego.
Eventually, her piss slowed to a trickle, dribbled over my chest, and then on my pants, and finally to the floor. She looked down at me, and that smirk returned to her face. But this time, it also had a touch of awe in it, like she couldn't believe that she had just made me drink her piss.
We stayed in that position for a moment, staring at each other, each breathing heavily, and then she sprayed one last little squirt onto my face and smiled.
The passion that held me like a prisoner while my cousin pissed on me now forced me to the initiative. I grabbed Angie by her hips and buried my face in her piss-laden pussy, fervently kissing her as though I was kissing the love of my life on the mouth. She surprised me a little by not resisting at all. In fact, after a few seconds, when I began opening my mouth and tongue-kissing her, she began grinding her pussy into my face.
It felt like I was drowning in her pissy come as I lapped hungrily away at her lips and swollen clit. Then she grabbed my hair and pulled hard as she bucked into my face and came in my mouth. It hurt like hell, but even if I were inclined to yell, her pussy would have totally muffled my cries anyway!
It looked like she was literally biting her tongue as her face contorted in orgasmic pleasure and she fucked my face for all it was worth. Cream seemed to just pour out of her and I swallowed it as my mouth would fill, feeling each spasm and jerk of her hips as she came. Finally, her orgasm began to ebb, and she began to release her commanding grip on my hair. I felt like a human dildo and toilet.
When she finished coming, she pushed me away and began wiping herself. Her urgency suggested she was beginning to feel the same panicky awareness of my parents that I had. Her manner began to relax as she pulled on her pants, though. As she turned to go upstairs, she looked back at me, smiled, and whispered, "Just marking my property, Brad. I know you understand. Don't forget to clean up all that piss", pointing to the floor. Then she winked at me and disappeared up the steps.
I knelt there in disbelief. I couldn't believe that I was wearing my cousin's piss and that there was even more sloshing around in my stomach. I wondered if I might get sick. I began to notice that when I exhaled, faint strains of ammonia stung my nose. I felt like a human toilet, and the feeling is extremely low.
Yet, in spite of the deep degradation, I began to feel euphoric. I felt a complete release in this degrading worship of my cousin. It was as though some deep hidden monster in both of us had finally been released. I still had not come, and the tremendous amounts of hormones rushing through my system seemed downright painful! In the privacy of the moment, I felt my last trace dignity break, and I gave in completely to the impact of what I had done, that I was by nature my cousin's inferior, servicing and worshipping her while letting her use my mouth as her personal toilet.
I was so overcome by the erotic, hot, stinging, shame of it that I quickly pulled off my own pants, and knelt right back down in the same spot where she had just pissed on me. Then I leaned forward and began to kiss the cellar floor where she had stood. There was now a puddle of her piss there, and I dipped my lips into the rank fluid over and over again as I pulled on my maddeningly stiff prick.
Then, as an act of final self-degradation, I opened my mouth and began to lick her now cold piss up off the cellar floor. I extended my tongue completely until I could feel the cold polished cement all the way to the base of my tongue as I licked up her piss, along with a good deal of cellar floor dirt. When I began to think about how Angie would react if she could see THAT, and the look of arrogant, laughing triumph on her face, I blew cum everywhere. The feeling was so intense I actually passed out briefly, and came to to find I had lain my head on the cellar floor in the shallow pool of Angie's piss.
With the release of all that orgasmic pressure came a wash of shame that was so intense I didn't think I could bear it. I was sure that I could never look anyone in my family straight in the eyes again, least of all sweet Angie.
********************************************************
I wiped up the remainder of Angie's piss with some towels and cleaned the floor with water from the washer. Then I stripped my own piss-soaked clothes, and put on sweats hot out of the dryer. About a half-hour after that, the cellar door opened and Angie's voice called down to me.
"Brad, I'm headed down to the boardwalk now! You comin'?"
I couldn't tell if the slight amusement I heard in her voice was real or imagined, but I was shocked at how upbeat and friendly she sounded. I got the impression she really wanted me to come with her. It filled my heart with such delight that I reversed my original plan to blow off the boardwalk and stay home to try to get a grip on everything that had just happened.
"OK," I called up a bit tentatively, "can you give me 15 minutes?"
"Why do you need to shower or something?"
This time the amusement was subtle but unmistakable.
"No, I need to ah... ...find something to wear..."
"I'll bet," she said, with a barely audible snicker, and the cellar door closed.
My heart raced as I rifled through the clean laundry to find something decent to wear. What could she be thinking, I pined, adrenalin coursing through my veins. I really thought things might get really weird between us now, and that we probably would want to just avoid each other, at least for awhile. I'd never dreamed that she would want to risk being with me so soon, and alone to boot. What could we possibly talk about, if not the "incident"? It was at least 10 minutes to the boardwalk. I anticipated a very nervous, silent walk to the beach.
After I'd dressed in something suitable, I ran up the stairs and began to wait for her to come out of her room. Two months earlier, that would have irritated the piss out of me, but now I felt I could await forever for this goddess and feel nothing but gratitude at her eventual company. I gradually became aware that my breath must smell horrible, with a slight ammonia aftertaste, undoubtedly a side-effect of drinking Angie's piss. I went to the bathroom and quickly brushed my teeth.
When Angie finally appeared, my jaw nearly hit the floor. She was wearing a tight white, ribbed sweater with a plunging v-neck that had the dual affect of emphasizing the size and shape of her tits where they were covered, and drawing your eye directly to the cleavage where they weren't. Her shorts were a tad looser, but did nothing to disguise the fact that her hips were perfectly articulated to that amazing waist. She did a quick spin, beamed at me and asked, "What do you think?"
"Angie, let's get you out of here before my mom sees you and makes you change!" was all I could think to say, but I felt my cock starting to get hard again. As I followed her out the door, I couldn't help staring at her ass, which as beautiful as she was everywhere else was by far her best feature in my opinion. It had perfect width, and was almost impossibly round. I'd seen her in bikinis and I knew that the skin of her bottom was perfectly smooth, and in spite of her exaggerated curves, she was very tight and firm.
I felt faint as I thought to myself, this beautiful girl just pissed on me no more than an hour ago!!
When we got out to the sidewalk in front of my house, I fell in beside her and we began a leisurely stroll toward the crashing waves of the beach, which was about four blocks away.
"That was the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me, Bradley" Angie said, breaking the soft silence of the moment.
I couldn't tell if she was being sarcastic, but she sounded sincere enough. Still, how does one respond to someone who has just pissed on you, I thought. I decided you didn't, and struggled with the urge to pick up our pace to end this interminable walk.
"I mean it's one thing to let me pee on your face," she continued with barely concealed bemusement, "but it's another thing entirely to open your mouth and drink it!" I sensed she was looking at me as she said these amazing words, and I tried to meet her eyes. I saw an intensity in her I'd just seen for the first time in the basement before. In the light of the streetlights, her pupils were quite large, and that gave her eyes that over-sized quality you see in an anime drawing. To me, the effect was the same as looking into bright sunshine, and I quickly looked away.
"No, look at me!" she demanded softly. "I want to see the look in your eyes when we talk about this."
She had stopped dead in her tracks. I stopped too, then turned and looked up until our eyes met again.
"It's one thing," she repeated, "to let me pee in your mouth, and quite another to actually drink it, but what I think was so very sweet of you was to kneel down and lick my piss off the cellar floor after I left..." She waited a moment for the shock to register on my face, and then satisfied, smiled in such a way that I can only describe as evil.
"I... I... I... How did you--"
She laughed easily. "I went outside and looked through the cellar window at you! I knew you hadn't come and I just knew you would want to 'finish', so I went outside to watch the show! Let me tell you, I got way more than I bargained for! That was worth this whole stupid summer!" Then she laughed outright at me, and the twinkle in her eye accentuated her obvious glee.
Once again, I found I was also at a total loss for words.
"That was the sickest thing, I've ever seen," she said, and turned again toward the beach, resuming her stroll. "God, I loved it though! You have no idea what it feels like how goddamn good it feels to watch somebody kneel down and lick up piss, YOUR PISS off the FLOOR!"
It took me a moment to regain my composure and take a few quick steps to catch up with her. We were almost at the boardwalk.
"You really liked it?" I asked, barely able to hear my own voice.
"Come on, Brad. What girl doesn't like being worshipped? You've just taken it to such a literal extreme, I just can't get over it. I mean it really WAS nice, in a very kinky sort of way..." She smiled. "You know what? I think it was so sweet of you, that if you want I'll let you fuck me, or suck your cock or something. Would you like that? I mean, you really earned it, I think."
In a day that had been filled with stunners, this one may have taken the cake (at least up to that moment), and I couldn't make up my mind which was more unbelievable: that my incredibly gorgeous, sexy cousin would offer to let me have sex with her for drinking her piss, or that her tone was so incredibly sincere in the offer!
"Come on, stupid!" she said, teasing. "It can't be that hard to accept! I'll let you do anything you want, but just this once! What's it going to be?"
I suddenly felt a sense of great emergency, like watching a great and eternally locked door of opportunity open up briefly. I couldn't think about it long, and I remembered how good she looked when we walked out of the house a few minutes ago...
"Let me kiss your ass, Angie! Show me your asshole, and let me kiss it!" I blurted out, and I almost slapped my hand over my mouth to stop the rush of words.
"Ha!" Angie exclaimed in amazement. "You can do anything you want, and what you really want is just to kiss my ass??"
"And lick it and suck it," I finished. "Your assHOLE" I added quickly to make sure I was clear.
We were at the boardwalk. She grabbed my hand and started pulling me in the opposite direction of the rides and flashing lights that reflected off the weathered wood, away from the buzzing of groups of kids our age, a few beach codgers, and the occasional cop. She pulled me toward the stairs leading to the beach, and then we walked down toward the water. The sights and sounds of the boardwalk began to fade. We walked in silence for about five more minutes, hand-in-hand, and the sound of the crashing waves began to become the dominant sound.
Then we walked back up toward the boardwalk, but here it was quiet, dark and quite deserted. She lead me under the boardwalk, and I sensed that she had come here before. Now we were truly alone. The distant rides and signs of the amusement piers combined with the softer light of the moon to provide just enough illumination that I could see her face clearly. Her anime-cartoon eyes were larger than ever. She looked like a dream.
She pulled off my jacket, and threw it down into the sand and then sat down on it. She looked up at me and patted the sand next to her, and I sat down next to her.
"You really want to kiss my ass?" she said, her voice sounding low, and husky. I'd never heard anything more seductive.
I nodded, and hoped that she could see, because the lump in my throat had eliminated any chance for speech.
"What do you want in return? There's got to be some catch! No guy's just going to kiss a girl's ass without wanting something. You're not going to try something mean, are you? To try to get back at me for pissing on you?"
I started to respond that that was really all I wanted, but then I caught myself, and thought that I'd ask for more after all. This girl had seen my true nature already, so I figured I'd take a chance.
"No, I have no interest in doing anything mean," I said, "I know its weird by I feel grateful. I didn't think I'd like it, and yet I did and I haven't even begun to understand why or what that says about me. All I know is that I worship you and I love worshipping you. There I said it. You want to know what I really want to do? I want to kiss your ass. I want to kiss it when it's dirty. I want you to let me sniff it after you've gone to the bathroom." She didn't respond, and I couldn't look at her, so I threw caution to the wind. "I want you to let me wipe your ass when you go to the bathroom with my tongue, and I want you to piss in my mouth again and again. I want you to let me lick your pussy and I want you to come in my mouth. There. It's all out now."
Something about having confessed all of this made me feel a strange release from fear. I figured I had nothing to lose, and since I figured she couldn't be any more disgusted, I was just going to let it all out. I figured she was going to explode with horror and disgust at any moment, so I rushed on...
"I want to be your slave, Angie. I dream about it all the time! When you came down into the cellar and caught me with your underwear, that was the first time I..." I stopped a moment, then continued, "well not the first time I did that, but it was the first time I could literally TASTE your asshole. I wanted more, I wanted toΡ"
I felt two of her fingers press lightly against my lips, stopping me.
"Shhhhhh," she said, sounding oddly like a mother to an upset child, "don't say anything else. You're already my slave, remember?. I even marked you." She let a wry grin creep across her face. "If I understand you properly, you're telling me you want me to be nasty to you, like earlier tonight, only even more so, and in return for that, you just want to worship me even more for it, and get me off all you can..."
I nodded. She moved away from me, and in spite of her words, I feared this meant she was going to turn tables and get up in disgust, abandoning me to the shame of my own perversion. But when I allowed my eyes to glance toward her, I saw that she had turned over on my jacket, and lay down.
"Kiss my ass, Brad," she said, "Show me exactly what you want to do to me."
I stared at her in absolute shock, and watched her arch her back and say, "Well?"
I jumped up and crawled up behind her. I stopped and just took a brief moment to admire her remarkable ass. With great anticipation, I said to myself, you're about to kiss this gorgeous creature's ass! I actually felt light-headed for a moment, as though I was going to pass out from the excitement. Then I leaned forward, and kissed the seam of her shorts about one third of the way down her ass, at the place just before it plunged in between the cheeks of her sweet ass. I held my lips there in an impassioned and romantic kiss. I heard her sigh and arch her back even more, pressing my face harder into her ass.
I reached around in front of her, and unsnapped her shorts. As I pulled them down, I witnessed this gorgeous bare ass for the first time; she'd worn no underwear! If you aren't an ass-man, let alone one with my particular bent, you can't possibly appreciate the feeling of absolute gratitude and worship I felt at that very moment. I pushed my nose into the top of the sweet nasty ass-crack and sniffed deeply. I could smell warm earthy scents that left no doubt as to where my face was. I could also smell just a hint of the piss that I had drank earlier, coming from further down.
I wanted to absolutely degrade myself for this woman. I wanted to make it as clear to her as possible that I was the receptacle for her abuse, bodily waste, and punishment that I had discovered I was at first scent of her dirty underwear. Passionately kissing the cheeks of her ass, I first kneaded them with my hands like a sculptor working with precious clay, and then spread them, so I could see what was certainly going to be the center of my universe, at least for as long as Angie would be amused by me.
And there it was! Puckered and wrinkled, looking incongruously arrogant and dangerous in the midst of all that beauty that was her ass, like the stinger of a particularly beautiful bee. A hot and damp air wafted up to my nose, and I got to smell the reek of her nether world for the first time in person. I decided this gorgeous creature had had enough gawking, and I bent forward slowly until the skin of my lips made its first, most gentle contact with the skin of her asshole for the first time.
Then I gradually increased the pressure of my lips to her asshole, until I was kissing that precious portal like it was the most valued and wonderful thing ever known to man, at least this man. There was a slight stickiness to it that reminded me that I was worshipping a part of her body that she used to take a shit. The resulting wave of humiliation made my cock harder than hell.
Then Angie spoke, "How serious are you about this? How nasty do you want me to be?"
Dangerously, I read her question as an implied promise, and in the heat of the moment uttered words I could never bring myself to say at any other time.
"Angie," I said as I kissed her asshole over and over, "I want you to think of the nastiest thing you can think to do..." kiss, kiss, kiss, "...and then I want you to do it. I don't want you to even think about my feelings or whether or not I want you to do it. I want you to just do it if you want to. The only thing you need to say to me is exactly what you want me to do to accommodate whatever nasty use you may have for me!"
She laughed and said, "God, I LOVE your ATTITUDE!"
She let me kiss her ass a few more times, and then she reached back and pressed her hand into the back of my head, burying my face in her ass. "How's it feel to kiss the ass of a girl who pissed on you earlier tonight? Good, eh? Open up, I have something for you," she whispered throatily.
I opened up my mouth just in time to accept a long, hot wet fart right into my mouth! The reverberations were so violent my tongue felt numbed as I felt the caustic gas flow into her toilet my mouth!
She laughed excitedly and exclaimed, "Brad, you are such a pig! I love it! Kiss my ass and thank me for that!"
Frantically, I kissed her asshole and ass cheeks, while I savored the dirty odors coursing through my lungs, mouth and nose. "I owe you everything for that, Sweet Angie! Thank you so much for so kindly farting into my mouth!" Kiss, kiss, kiss, lick, kiss on her asshole. I had no idea that cruelty could be so beautiful or that beauty could be so cruel! I knew where this was going, and it was obvious to me that Angie knew too. What's more, I knew that nothing was going to stop us if she wanted to do it!
"Suck my ass, Brad! Show me how much you deserve this, how much you want it, how much you want me to do it to you!" I noticed that her fingers had started to stroke her clit. I pressed my mouth to her asshole, and began to soul-kiss it. I started with light lapping of her tight hole, savoring the nasty taste, a taste I knew should disgust me. I began working my tongue into each wrinkle of the pretty little brown eye, wanting to memorize it's taste and every nuance. Then I began to push my tongue past the tight ring of her anus, so that I could French kiss this beautiful goddess's ass. There were light little hairs that ran inside the crease of her ass and around her asshole, and I could feel them tangle in my nose.
When my tongue had finally gained entry, I was amazed at how cavernous it seemed. Beyond the tight seal of her asshole around the base of my tongue, I felt nothing, tasted nothing. I decided I would try again, and pulled my tongue out of her ass. When I did, I was treated to an assful of rank farting. Heavier and wetter than the last one, it was much stronger and had a very distinct bitter taste to it. It was a taste with which I was to grow quite familiar before the end of the summer.
Even though she was jerking off at the time, Angie thought it was too funny not to laugh at how she had just blown another fart into my mouth. Her sweet laughter added more delicious degradation to the nasty services I was doing for her. I literally swallowed her gas, not wanting any of it to escape. It was so rank, it made me involuntarily gag for a moment, which seemed even funnier to Angie.
Then Angie resumed stroking her beautiful clit, and I resumed licking her asshole. I pondered whether she would let me lick that sweet pussy of hers, then pushed my tongue back up into her asshole again. This time, that cavernous feeling was gone, and things were much more snug inside, I pushed deeper and deeper into her, until the tip of my tongue pushed into something firm and exquisitely bitter. I froze as I felt the electric shock of realizing that my tongue had come into contact with what could only be this beloved female's shit.
I noticed she had stopped too, perhaps trying to read what had happened and what my reaction had been.
"Did you touch it?" she asked tentatively.
Not wanting to break this precious contact, I merely grunted an unintelligible "unh huh", and nodded slightly hoping that would be enough to confirm her suspicions. It was so bitter, and yet I couldn't bring myself to pull my tongue off of her shit! I felt totally beneath her.
As though my response quelled some unanswered doubt she might have had, she relaxed ever so slightly and laughed cruelly.
"You want it, don't you!" she said through want sounded like a grin. And I felt her bear down slightly.
The dirty bitterness engulfed the final inch or so of my tongue now as it moved down further in her body. I thought, this is it! I'm about to do the nastiest thing anyone ever did for anyone else!
"I want to hear you say it," she said, "but I don't want you to pull your tongue out of there..." She thought for a moment while I absorbed the taste of her shit through the tip of my tongue. "OK, if you don't pull your tongue out of my ass right now, I'm going to shit literally. You're making me have to go. Now if you want to keep your tongue in there, you have to agree you're going to eat it, 'cause I don't want to get messy here!"
The sheer arrogance of her proposition made precum spill out of the head of my cock. Then I felt her shit engulf another inch of my tongue as she relaxed her bowel control a little more.
For better or worse, I could not prevent myself from giving her tacit permission to shit in my mouth. I WAS HER SLAVE, and I was going to prove it by EATING HER SHIT!
I felt her fingers busy themselves again with her clit, and then she began to bear down in earnest. I was surprised at how quickly the shit now began to slide down to her asshole, forcing my tongue ahead of it.
And then the moment of truth arrived. With one final grunt, I felt her body began to wrack from orgasmic waves, and my tongue was expelled in a sudden burst of shit that filled my mouth. It was firm and disgusting, and far worse in taste than anyone could imagine. I felt a strong gag reflex rising, but forced it down, along with the first mouthful of this beautiful girl's excrement. My mouth and throat filled with shit again, and I was forced to swallow it. Meanwhile, she was still at the height of pleasure, and I could feel her body spasm as her orgasm skipped along, almost in time with my shit eating. It almost seemed like my body being filled with shit made her body fill with pleasure.
I accepted this particularly piercing humiliation, which only a person who has been used as another's toilet can know. I sucked and swallowed her shit down while she came violently, obviously at my expense. I wallowed in the bitter-sweet pain of being used in such a horrible way. No amount of imagining and fantasizing can prepare you for the stark reality of the dirty disgusting taste of shit, and the knowledge that another person thinks so little of you that they would force you to experience the very worst possible tastes of their body. And this girl was coming over it! All the clichs regarding the degradation and humiliation of ass-kissing and shit-eating flash through your mind, with the crystal realization that in your case they are now absolutely real, not mere verbal abstractions.
And then, she finally reached that final climactic part of her orgasm; apparently the skippers were only the harbinger of what was to come. As her hips writhed back and forth, grinding her ass into my face as she filled me with shit, I came too! The stinging shame of it stroked the same nerve that lapping Angie's piss up from the cellar floor had only touched upon, and I came so hard that I thought for sure my head would split, that my brains would spill into the sand and that my mind would be gone forever.
Angie's orgasm finally subsided, even as she continued to shit in my mouth. Being male, my orgasm had finished well ahead of hers. No longer buoyed by the erotic tension of pre-orgasm, I now had to experience the true nature of my degradation. The bitterness of the shit seemed to permeate the very core of my lips, gums and tongue. Honestly, I thought I was going to throw up right then, and there was absolutely nothing pleasant about it. But I owed her this, I thought, I promised it to her, and now I got to feel what it really meant to be another person's slave, their toilet. After all, she had brought me to heights that seemed humanly impossible, and frankly from a practical stand-point, she still had to shit.
The lowness I felt as I ate the rest of her shit cannot be described. I felt like I might die. And yet I ate it all. I even kissed her asshole clean as she instructed, then tasted the foulness again as she told me to lick her shit off my lips. I did it all because I worshipped her. And she did what she did, because it was fun for her.
She spent the rest of the summer enjoying the privileges almost no one on earth has experienced and none truly deserve. She shit on my face and in my mouth so often, I found that I actually began to crave the incredibly foul bitter taste of her shit. One weekend, she insisted that I eat nothing but shit and drink nothing but piss. I think she came 13 or 14 times.
She only let me lick her pussy once, and I could taste the distinct flavor of sperm, and to this day I have no idea who's it might be. I never fucked her, and she never sucked my cock. Our sexual relationship was restricted to exploring the erotic possibilities of dominance, humiliation, and toilet slavery.
I'm amazed that I never got sick, but somehow I didn't. When Angie left at the end of the summer, a chapter of my life closed. Since then, I have never come close to realizing any of the amazing fantasies that Angie made so real for me then. She gave me a very sweet kiss on the cheek and a warm hug when her limo arrived at our house the day she left.
"Thanks for a wonderful summer, Bradley" she said with a wink. And then she was gone. I stared after the limo long after it disappeared. She went back home and then off to college. I didn't see much of her in the years after that, and we never wrote or called each other. She's gone on to become a very successful writer, living in NYC. I still live in NJ, but I've got hardcover copies of all of her books.
Recently my aunt (her mother) decided to show off their latest mansion by throwing a family reunion, and I'm going up to Long Island to attend. I understand Angie is going to be there...
by Callipygia