Rage Against the Latrine Ch. 20

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As I said in Ch. 19, I am working on editing these but my injury makes it difficult. I will get them out as quickly as I can.

Thanks for your interest and patience.

*****

Natasha gasped as the expectant silence of the crowd enveloped the moment. The air punctuated with flashes from cameras as my girlfriend stood motionless, staring at me open-mouthed. My heart pounded as I waited; the seconds dragged, and I saw every reaction from Natasha. A breaking smile, a bite of her lips, a blush of her cheeks and a deep inhalation of breath. Moments that etched into my memory as her mind processed my question.

“Yes!” she squealed into her microphone. “Hell yes. Of course I’ll fucking marry you!” I had barely made it to my feet when her arms landed around my neck, throwing me off balance as she hung onto me. She whispered into my ear. “You are so getting fucked tonight!”

I felt the moment. The bright, hot lamps on stage, the wild commotion of the audience, and beaming grins from Natasha’s bandmates directed towards me and my fiancée.

Because that’s what Natasha now was. The woman I had admired, adored, idolised and revered for years as I criss-crossed the country to see her perform time after time had become my betrothed. The person who I had never expected to meet was my wife-to-be.

We left the stage to a roar, and my lover pulled me into a small dimly lit storeroom. Pale light streaked across the space, flooding into the large storage unit from the corridor through translucent panels at the top of the well-stacked wall. She held me close. We stood in the centre of the store, grinding our bodies against each other as our hands raced and pawed at our clothes. Unbuttoning. Unzipping. Disrobing. Frantically, we undressed as we kissed, and she leaned back on the wooden desk, scattering sheets of paper into the air.

I could smell her arousal and my knees slammed against the floor as I buried my lips into her cunt, pulling her forward so her butt rested against the edge of the smooth table.

She groaned as I lapped at her musky folds. So often, I immersed myself in her delicious snatch, but this felt different. This expressed passionate love, not carnal enjoyment. My tongue traced her inner thighs, and I nuzzled at her mons in the soft half-light as the band partied next door. My hands explored her body, sliding over her smooth, lithe frame.

I swept over her breasts, swirling her nipples under my touch, and I rubbed and massaged her flanks and her thighs as my lips caressed her clit. She mumbled into her heavy breathing when my finger slid into her hole and curled against her G-Spot.

She adjusted herself; her hands darted through my hair as I wallowed in her feminine arousal. Her succulent aroma, her intoxicating taste and her slipperiness as my tongue flicked her bean, and I ground against the walls of her cunt.

Her body bucked; Natasha’s thighs quivered and her breathing raced as her orgasm powered through her naked frame. Her fingertips dug into my skull as the climax shocked my punk rocker and cascaded across her conscience.

I looked at her in the glow of the feint light, and she met my gaze. My fingers worked her G-Spot, as I lightly kissed her thigh, peeking at the flushed expression on my fiancée’s face. She mewed and squeaked, groaning as my tongue swirled over her delicate clit once more.

Lust poured from her, and from me. I dwarfed the wet spot I made on the floor from my cock leaking pre-cum, with the flood of juices seeping from my oral worship of her delicious cunt. The room reeked of her sexual enjoyment as I drove her to another orgasm, and then another.

Each time, she writhed on the desk, grinding her wet cunt into my face as the climax blasted through her body, exciting and ravishing every pore in her. “Fuck me,” she demanded with a breathless smile.

I reached into my trouser pocket and swore. “Monika’s got my condoms at the house.”

“Oh, just fucking take me,” my girlfriend snapped. “I’m not due on for another fortnight. Fuck me hard.” I stared directly at Natasha as I stood over her and guided my unfettered cock into her open hole in the half-light. Our eyes interlocked as I filled my fiancée bareback for the first time in our relationship. She gulped as my prick slipped into her.

I held the backs of her thighs as I drilled into her, slamming my shaft deep into her cunt. Everything felt closer, more intimate, and more intense. Her warmth kissed my shaft, and her fingers explored. I watched her face; the twisted grip of pleasure as I rammed my dick into her greasy hole.

The lustrous, sleekness took me closer to my apex. She pulled me towards her, and I leant over the table to kiss my fiancee. Her hands gripped the back of my neck as she panted, forcing her lips onto mine as my orgasm swelled. I grunted, and I jackhammered into her cunt, chasing my climax.

An overwhelming freedom swept through my cock. The visceral closeness of our sex consumed my lust as I relented batıkent escort to the boiling urge and I pumped my cum into my fiancée.

Natasha’s hands gripped my flesh as she felt the warmth flood her cunt. Our tongues twisted as we snogged and broke, grinning into the half-light. “You’ve probably made a fucking mess,” she giggled.

We had. We cleaned up as best we could before we redressed and hid much of the evidence. But Natasha’s band knew exactly what we had done; we entered the packed green room to bawdy cheers and the clinking of beer bottles. Bohdana, Jamie and Monika sat on the sofa, beaming as the pink-haired punk rocker led me by my hand.

“To Natasha. And her boy!” Faye cried, holding a bottle of wine aloft as the excited musicians bawled and yelled. The next two hours were a blur; dozens of people congratulated my fiancée and me. The band and the entourage drank heavily in the back rooms of the Oxford theatre. Photos were taken, Faye stripped and teased Nessie, and her humiliation was captured by half-a-dozen cameras.

My lover became the centre of the celebrations. She slouched onto the sofa, holding two drinks and confidently shouted while downing beer and wine, as the musicians celebrated.

She forced me to go down on her. She rarely wore underwear, and the remnants of my cum had leaked and dripped onto her thighs and short skirt. My drunk lover pressed my face into her bald snatch, saturated with the musky remains of our intercourse.

I’d never eaten a creampie before. The sordidness of her actions, in full view of the green room, was a jolt to my arousal. Natasha, sporting a £7,000 engagement ring, humiliated her fiancé in front of everyone by pressing my face into her cum-covered cunt.

She giggled as my tongue lapped at her sodden slit, tasting the fruits of our sex. My taste buds danced with the new sensations, appreciating my deposits seeping from her snatch. Her power and domination made the moment more special; her fingers brushed my hair as I guzzled the zesty cream.

Liquid silk smoothly oozed past my lips as I eagerly lapped at her enticing folds, beautifully open.

She never cared that the support act, her band mates and the backing crew, witnessed her splayed pussy and hiked skirt. Natasha was shameless about sex and embraced it wildly. Most of them had seen much more of her rampant sexuality in the past, anyway.

The wild circus was a rowdy, boisterous affair, powered by alcohol, excitement, and arousal. We left in a taxi at midnight, with the inexperienced driver offered a blowjob from the naked submissive as a “tip.” He blushed, stumbling over his words, as we exited his eight-seater vehicle.

Natasha, with her sparkling eyes, dragged me to the bathroom. “I’ve had a dozen beers and I’m desperate for a fucking piss,” she exclaimed, so loud our friends heard. I stripped as she squirmed, snapping at me, and I lay in the cold enamel tub.

Her lightly tattooed flank, twinkling belly button and shaven snatch presented itself as she rest her butt on the ledge at the head of the bath and giggled as her fingers slid either side of her splayed labia.

Her cunt twitched, and she sighed as the sprinkle of her pee arched from her urethra and sprayed over my face. Sweet musky nastiness, moistening my mouth, cheeks and chin with warm waste from my fiancée.

She groaned, and I stared at her hands, holding her lips apart as she forcibly expelled a jet of her pee.

The pale yellow honey covered my chest and my crotch, smashing against my skin as the fountain flowed from my lover. Vile degradation gushed from my fiancee, smothering me in the stench of her waste and the delicious taste of humiliation. “Come in,” Natasha squealed as the door creaked. “Go on the fucking slut.”

Bohdana smirked as she entered and perched her derriere on the edge of the bath, talking to her cousin as if I wasn’t there. I stared longingly at her hairless pussy, and her stream splashed against my thighs while Natasha’s deluge slowed and sputtered.

Faye was next; she recycled a bottle of wine over my face, and her cascade of sweet squalor danced wonders on my arousal and my tastebuds. Beautifully piquant, the red-haired lesbian filled my nostrils with the earthy, acidic smell of her warm champagne.

My cock revelled in every shower. Natasha sat on the toilet lid, casually chatting to her bandmates as they defiled her new fiancé. They queued up to debase me in turn. Natasha, Bohdana, Faye, Monika, then Nessie. Each woman voided their bladder in the bath over me, soaking me in the malodorous stench of their urine.

I loved it. I adored the burning taste, tepid warmth, vicious smell and beautiful sight as I wallowed in their domination of me. The absolute humiliation as my lover and her friends used me as their latrine.

And then Jamie hovered by the doorway. Natasha smiled and gestured to the bath, not stopping her bawdy chatter with her friends. I’d never beşevler escort had a golden shower from Monika’s “boi” before. The student had fellated me, fucked me, massaged me and kissed me, but they had never urinated over me.

The rosy cheeks matched their deep red hair as they lifted their tartan kilt and pulled their skimpy feminine underwear to their knees. Monika waved Jamie’s meaty dick inches from my face and patted her “boi” on the bum.

Pee dribbled from the end of his prick, landing on my chest, before it flowed, surging from their semi-erect cock. Monika directed the spurting spring of yellow rain, splashing off my skin and my face. I drank from the spray cascading over me.

Jamie’s waste was more intense and harsher. It burnt the back of my throat and the air reeked of familiar ammoniacal odour. But watching the liquid tumble from the head of the dick, held by Monika, coat my skin, was delightful. My flesh, glazed and painted with piss, tingled as the two students dominated me.

I craved for more. As Jamie’s flow slowed, I wanted more piss and more humiliation. My arousal was clear as I inhaled the scent of five bladders and squirmed in the pee of my friends and lovers. I could still taste the acidic potency on my tongue as Monika shook her boi’s prick free of drips. And then she jerked it. Strong hand movements up and down their shaft.

The femboy had a mismatch of styles – fishnet stockings, neon kilt, punk rock black T-shirt, Doc Marten boots and an erect cock dripping pre-cum – as their girlfriend stroked their dick. Natasha knelt beside the bath.

My eyes were transfixed on the blurring hand of Monika, the groaning joy of Jamie and the wicked grin on my fiancée’s face. She watched as the submissive student groaned and squealed, and the first shot of cum splattered onto my chest. The second hit my chin as the teenage dominant tugged and stroked the dick harder and harder.

Another few spurts landed on me. Warm, viscous seed splashed over my urine-soaked body and Natasha scooped a streak of Jamie’s goo and held it against my lips. My overpowering horniness controlled me and I sucked her fingers dry, tasting the musky sweetness with the acidic overtones of the pee.

“Such a fucking pig,” she giggled and blew me a kiss as she got up, and followed her friends from the room, leaving me alone.

I showered and cuddled up to my fiancée in our double bed, holding her tight as I kissed the back of her neck. “Love you,” I whispered, nuzzling against her.

“Love you too!” she mumbled.

We slept until nine in the morning; Natasha woke first and made us a coffee each, and we snoozed in bed, cuddling and kissing each other. I slid down the mattress and slowly parted Natasha’s legs, caressing and nibbling at her inner thigh.

I knew how to excite the wonderful punk rocker and my mouth embraced her sensitive skin, making gentle touches of her delicate nub. Her body shuddered when my tongue wrapped around her clit, and she groaned as my fingers slid into her moistened hole.

Her scent filled my nostrils; my cock dug into the mattress, leaking pre-cum. I smashed into her cunt, tickling and massaging her sensitive walls.

I adored feeling Natasha climax. Her wet snatch gushed with arousal as my tongue lapped and savoured her clit, while my hand brought my fiancée to a groaning, writhing eruption of ecstasy.

She gestured me to give her a kiss, and I manoeuvred myself on the bed. Our lips touched, her hands stroked my erect prick. A sparkling itch as her fingers danced over my glans and shaft. She smiled as she broke from our embrace and leant over my naked body.

Her mouth curled around the smooth head of my dick, sucking passionately as I sighed at her submissive act of fellatio. My insides squirmed as she pleasured my prick, sliding over the sensitive shaft and massaging my glans with the skill of an experienced porn star.

Her tongue wrapped around my frenulum, her lips massaged my cock and she sucked the tip of my dick with incredible fervour. I had never had a more intense, or passionate, blowjob in my life. I groaned; my orgasm gathered within me. I spluttered a warning, and I fidgeted, but Natasha held my thighs as her head bobbed over my erect prick.

I didn’t want to ejaculate in her mouth. We had built our relationship on her dominance and my submissiveness. She had communicated her feelings around blowjobs in the past, and I struggled under her delicious act. My climax swelled; my cock burnt and my soul squealed as she brought me to the brink of my peak. I whimpered, writhed and panted, but Natasha’s hands pushed my thighs into the bed.

She wanted me to cum in her mouth.

She longed for my seed to spew into her.

The very act that repulsed her, she forced me to do. Her fingers pressed against my body, pinning me to the mattress as her lips swirled over my glans, breaking my ability to control my arousal.

My hands squeezed the beypazarı escort bedsheets as the bubbling cauldron of boiling horniness in my cock erupted and I sank into the bed with my loins pulsing and quivering.

Natasha took every drop of my cum. I shook as my shaft spewed several jets of my cream into her mouth, and she stared at me as her tongue caressed my trembling dick, sending shivers across my crotch.

Her gaze never left mine as her lips let my prick fall from her lips and, with a wicked grin, she gulped the deposit. “Wow!” I muttered. “That was amazing.”

“I’m fucking incredible at blowjobs,” she replied, as she got to her feet. “I just don’t think my boys deserve them unless they do something very fucking special.”

“I…”

She wriggled the engagement ring around her finger. “And it is your birthday next week.” Her eyes met mine, and she held her hand out to me. “I’m hungry.”

We entered the kitchen naked. Faye, Monika and Bohdana had dressed and the bare-assed Nessie waited on them, bringing the dominant women breakfast. Natasha giggled and smacked the buttocks of the submissive slut, reddening her cheeks. “Hiya Bitches!” My fiancée hailed.

“Fox called. Picking us up in an hour,” Faye muttered, sipping from her mug with a pained look on her face. The hangovers were clear, and yet Natasha was unaffected. She always seemed immune to the impact of excessive alcohol consumption.

I made us breakfast as we chatted; my partner had a phone call from her mother and had the conversation in an adjacent room. “John,” she called. “Are you free next weekend?”

“Yes, why?”

“We have a gig in Solihull on Friday, but nothing on Saturday. Mum wants to see us.”

“Why?”

“Because I just got fucking engaged!” Natasha snapped. “Why do you think?”

“Yeah, I can come up to Birmingham for the weekend,” I hurriedly said, and my fiancée smiled before returning to her call.

I hugged Natasha after we dressed, and she packed her clothes from the tumble dryer. I held her tight to me as the minibus waited outside. Nessie was still naked, and I felt a sinking feeling as I waved my new fiancée off. They had a gig in Wolverhampton, but I wanted more time with her.

“You’ll see her soon enough,” Monika calmly replied. “I can go get my strapon if you need something to take your mind off of it.”

I shook my head, and we packed up the house, leaving the property before midday. I called my family on the journey back to London and my engagement excited my mum. They liked Natasha and saw the deviant as a huge upgrade on Samantha.

This was understandable, as my ex and I were in court a few days later. She had not withdrawn her legal claim, and so Her Majesty’s judiciary allocated us a date for a hearing at Watford Magistrates.

I had never been in front of a judge before; I spoke to my University friend – now a lawyer in County Durham – about the case and he had read through the documentation. His analysis was that Samantha would only win if I failed to turn up to the hearing.

What should have been a wonderful time of my life – shortly after getting engaged to the glorious Natasha – had become fraught with worry and anxiety. The court building in the town centre was a brutalist reminder of architecture from a previous age. The concrete aberration scarred the High Street and the graffiti on the neighbouring underpass contained several unflattering references to the judges.

Samantha averted her eyes when she saw me outside the court chamber; her friend glared at me, but she turned away as I sat opposite the door. It was petty, but I read through my file of documents and mentally rehearsed my evidence.

Two nervous hours later, we were both summoned. The female magistrate looked only a little older than me, but had a scowling demeanour. She cleared her throat and summarised the case before she turned to Samantha.

My ex repeated her claim that I had damaged her possessions. “I’m confused why Mr Parkes is here for your claims about the fight with Miss Heywood. Did he encourage his new partner to do what you allege?”

“No,” Samantha cried. “But she is his girlfriend in his house.”

Her friend interrupted, and I watched with a barely concealed smirk as Samantha’s case unravelled in front of her. She had not provided a shred of evidence that her items had been damaged, let alone by me, and the judge highlighted the witness statements from Natasha, the four other band members, and Nessie, that Samantha had instigated the skirmish.

“But he has naked women at his house. It’s disgusting!” My ex shouted as the judge dismissed her claim with a raised eyebrow.

“And onto Mr Parkes’s counter-claim.”

I had almost forgotten about this, and opened my folder to my summary. “Miss Roberts and I were in a relationship, but eighteen months prior to our break-up, she left her employment. I lent her money to pay for her outgoings. The monies I am seeking are two years of car insurance, totalling £987. Her holiday with her friends costing £1206. Nineteen car leasing payments at £322.77 each, adding up to £6132.63.” I continued to reel off the amounts and drew the judge’s attention to the bank statements I had provided, which showed these deposits into my ex-girlfriend’s account.

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