Watersports at Carol’s

After my marathon at work, which thankfully was now out of the way, and which had caused me to miss my weekly tryst with Mary and Katie I was sorely in need of something sexual.

Also, I’d come up with the idea of providing Katie with a much older man to see if he could satisfy her and needed to check that Carol and Charles were okay with the idea. I couldn’t think of one possible reason why Charles wouldn’t be, but there was a chance Carol might object although I thought the chance slim.

So. Two birds, one stone. I’d pop round in the evening and see what they thought and hopefully play some watersports.

As the days progressed my sexual need did the same but it went at an unusual tangent. At least for me.

Any of you who have been following for a while will know my ‘man phobia’ is down to my ex. I am still having trouble recounting our breakup in detail but I can say part of the problem was his continual humiliation of me. Which brings me to that unusual tangent. I wanted Carol and Charles to humiliate me. Not in the way he did. Never. But I felt a yearning to be used. Perhaps it was to drive out the demons left by my Hex or to prove I could now suffer that without a mental meltdown. Whatever it was I wanted it and I’d told Carol as much.

Thursday they were busy. Bridge night apparently, so we fixed on Friday evening. Better in a lot of ways as if it went on late I had the weekend to recover. Not so good in that it meant I had to wait another day for my sexual release.

I went home from work, had a shower, and dressed for the occasion. I wore a shortish skirt with stockings. White full cotton knickers. Nothing overly sexy. All the clothes were disposable if the evening went in that direction. I’d not done anything approaching BDSM since my meets with Jane which now seemed an eon ago, but I yearned for domination. Weird.

First I needed to find out about my proposal for Katie. As expected it was greeted enthusiastically by them both. Carol was quite content to let Charles screw Katie given that Mary had indicated she wanted to be molested by Carol. They’d never met but had seen photos of each other and Carol was more than up for getting intimate with her. “Are we doing this group-wise or individually?” Charles asked.

“We haven’t planned it either way. Katie did say she didn’t mind doing it in front of us, but I wonder when it comes to it if she might be more relaxed doing it out of sight of her mum.”

“That would be one hell of a turn-on. I don’t think we’ve ever screwed a daughter in front of her mother — or father.”

“Ha. You don’t need to consider the latter. No way will he be involved although I have to say I think they would both rather enjoy his humiliation in having to watch you screw her.”

“It would be hornier doing it as a group, always is, but I’m happy to take her up to a bedroom or whatever.”

“I bet you are,” I replied with a smile, “After our last session she seemed on the verge of forsaking men. I know I have, but I think it would be a shame if she didn’t enjoy both, at least experience what’s on offer. you’ll have to do your best stud impression Charlie. No quick wham bam thank you, ma’am.”

“Ha. I’ll do my best. Things are now functioning at full throttle!”

Having got that cleared up I couldn’t wait. I'd been starved of sex, or even anything outrageous, for days-felt like weeks-so decided to open up uninvited.

“Mind if I pee?” I asked. I slid off the chair and sat on the floor.

“Of course not. Go ahead.”

Charles wasn’t complaining. Sitting on the floor I’d raised my knees and he had an unfettered view up to my knickers. Knowing that and seeing his eyes widen helped get me in the mood. What am I saying? I needed no help.

The release was magical. I couldn’t remember how long it had been since I’d peed like this. It shot through my knickers and arced out under my legs onto their carpet. The depravity of doing it on there was still a huge turn on. Doing it, simply peeing clothed, being watched by two people just about old enough to be my parents made it even more lewd. The stream went on. Charlie grabbed his phone and took a quick shot but hurriedly put it back down. He had more urgent things he needed to do with his hands. He unzipped and extricated his cock. I felt no adverse vibes at all. Indeed I let my eyes feast on it. It didn’t need much wanking to bring it to full attention. I wondered what he had in mind (that’s not quite as naive as it sounds if you know my history) but soon found out. He came over to me, pushed the chair away from behind me and stood by my head facing his wife.

My flow had stopped and I was rubbing myself through my sodden knickers. A totally degenerate feeling. I tasted my fingers. My pee soaked fingers. People describe the taste as delicious. I don’t know. What was delicious was the sheer depravity.

“Look up Tracy,” Charles instructed. I did, to be met by a stream of his piss. Oh fuck. All over my face. Running down my neck, my cleavage. Soaking into my blouse. What a fucking slut! Gorgeous. I opened my mouth. Was this the first time I’d swallowed his piss? No, I didn’t think it was. My sexual journey had become intermingled with fantasy, but I was sure I’d tasted him before. I’ve been watching loads of watersports porn and noticed the recipients of pee often took a mouthful then spat it out. I didn’t. I let my mouth fill then swallowed. So fucking disgusting. Not the taste. The action. But the turn-on! Immense. I vaguely became aware I was leaking into my knickers whilst Charles's piss continued to pour into my mouth. The shower went on and on. Carol sat watching, a hand up her skirt fingering herself.

Degenerate and used. A need had been satisfied. His flow ceased. He shook the remaining drops off his cock and went into wank mode. He’d been quite hard while he’d peed. ( I thought men couldn’t piss when erect? Perhaps it needs practice. Anyway.)

Carol could no longer sit and watch. She came over to me, hitched her skirt up, and presented me with her hairy pussy. I can see why men prefer us shaven, but the sensation of her hair on my lips and tongue enhanced the experience. More perverted? Not really the right word. More amoral perhaps. I wanted to satisfy Carol. Her husband had given me what I needed and was going to help out with Katie. (What a sacrifice!) She deserved a reward. She was content to stand astride me and let me suck and kiss and finger her. Both holes. I sensed a growing tenseness in her body and then a gasp. She grabbed my head and held it into her groin. Her love juices forced into my face. I couldn’t drink them she was holding me in too tightly. They replicated Charlie’s piss journey cascading down my body, further soaking my clothes. I was saturated I had been used as a toilet. I had needed to be humiliated. A strange feeling for me considering my history. Perhaps a further sign of my rehabilitation.

I didn’t realise they hadn’t finished. Charles came and stood over me. I was now lying on the floor and could feel the pee and juice soaked carpet under me. Carol knelt, a knee either side of me. Charlie’s cock was at attention two feet above my face. Carol leant in and took it in her mouth. I had a ring side seat watching her; this blow job inches above my head. So horny. I raised my head slightly and recommenced licking her out. I fingered myself. The first things up there that evening. Watching Charles’s cock being caressed and sucked maintained my libido. I doubted I’d ever been this close to someone else receiving a blow job. My fingers increased my need. I couldn’t help myself. My other hand went up and cupped his balls. A first! I’d touched a man’s genitals! I gently fondled them. The touch affected their owner as well as me. I heard a grunt and he pulled back from his wife, pushing the tip of his cock downwards. Now only inches separated his cock and my mouth. Could I? I wanted to. The sane part of my brain was screaming ‘for god's sake gobble him’ The other part, the addled part, the part stuck in my dark past of three years ago refused to give permission. I was too slow. He erupted. The white, hot, sticky cum flew in my direction. Plastering my face. I had no qualms about letting it. That my brain would permit. I’ve said it before and need to repeat it. For a man of his age, he produces a huge quantity of cum and I loved the feel of every drop landing on me. Now I’d been covered in three substances. My mind went to a video I’d recently seen of a girl doing a cum walk. Walking through town with her face plastered with semen. God yes! How degenerate. How shameful. I’d have to do it. but not now. Now I had Carol cleaning me up. Licking the globules of cum off then kissing me so I could taste them too. Then she’d collect more, hold her head inches above mine, and let the semen dribble out from her mouth to mine. I hungrily swallowed what arrived.

By the end, I felt used, gloriously and insatiably used, and I’d not had anything fuck me other than my own fingers!