Chapter 6

“Morning! Your mother mentioned something about me being your boyfriend,” I said to Natasha as she stirred. I put a breakfast tray on her bedside table and pulled open the curtains.

She groaned and rubbed her forehead when the bright light flooded her master bedroom. “Oh!” she moaned indignantly. “What fucking time is it?”

“Just gone nine. Have some breakfast.” I pointed to the four objects I had brought her. “Cereal. Tea. Paracetamol. Water.”

The naked punk rocker grumbled as she sat up in the bed and wiped her eyes. “Did she? I don’t fucking remember.”

“So nothing from last night comes back to you? Do you recall showing her how to give me a golden shower?” Natasha smirked through her hangover. “And ordering me to lick your mother’s cunt free of piss?”

“Yeah. We had a bit too much wine, and we spent two hours talking about sex. We were too drunk and too horny. Anyway, you’re a pervert and you liked it.”

“I never said I didn’t,” I replied. “I just expected little of what happened last night. Even in my wildest dreams.” She winced and then chuckled. “After breakfast, I’m going to go for a walk. You coming?”

“Yeah, maybe. Give me ten minutes to fucking wake up.” I nodded and walked to the bedroom door. “Hey, are you pissed off with me?”

“No,” I replied honestly. “Why would I be?”

“You enjoy being fucking humiliated. You told me. So does it fucking matter if my mum pisses on you? Or she thinks we’re dating?”

“No, I just ... I didn’t expect her to do that or think that.”

“Does your dad know?” I asked.

“Probably,” Natasha muttered. “Not that she cares. She posed naked for an art photographer last year and she sent me the photos. I thought she was starting a fucking Onlyfans ‘cause she said he’s asked her to do filthier stuff. She brought us up to be fucking liberal and dad is as conservative as they get.” She grinned as she looped her arm in mine. “Olga texted to ask if she can see me later. She saw my mum today, so I reckon Mum’s been blabbing about last night.”

“Yes, and I’m happy to have a pregnant golden shower,” I replied before Natasha asked.

“You’re such a fucking pervert,” Natasha laughed.

“Hey, my mother warned me to stay well away from girls like you!” I joked and she gasped, smacking me playfully on the bum.

“My mother ... actually, after last night, fucking forget that!”

Olga arrived at the flat after we had eaten our tea. She was shorter than Natasha, with the sparkling blue eyes that all of Natasha’s family had. She had a cheeky, cherub-like face, with unkempt long dirty-blonde hair, and looked at me with some suspicion.

She lived with her mum and sister at the other side of Bowness and had waddled the one-mile in the subzero temperatures to visit our rented abode. I promised to drive her home, as the distended woman sat in the armchair in our holiday flat. Apart from her belly, she was lithe and slender, and I offered her a drink. She asked for a pint of water, but Natasha eagerly drank a bottle of wine her mother had left in the fridge.

Olga worked in the council offices in the centre of the town. She spoke about banal matters as she gulped her drink and when she finished it, I got her another one. There was something she wanted to ask, and we guessed what, but she seemed unwilling to discuss the reason for her visit. She came across like she was a sweet, naïve woman, mentioning only wholesome and familial topics.

After her second drink, she wavered and bit her lip. “Don’t judge me,” the innocent-looking girl muttered. “But I spoke to Auntie Ruslana earlier. There’s this single guy at work who’s offered me five hundred quid to sleep with him. He has a fetish for pregnant girls and he says he’ll give me another one fifty if I piss on him afterwards. I’ve never done it before. I’ve read lots about it, but Ruslana said to speak to you. To you two.”

“You want to know what it feels like?” Natasha replied. “Because it fucking amazing. The power over the submissive as you unload on their face. It’s a rush.” Olga sipped at the remnants of her drink. “Yeah, of course you can practise. Do it over, John. That’s fine. He loves being pissed on.”

Again, Natasha pimped out and arranged my services as a golden shower receiver to one of her relatives without giving me any say in the matter. Not that I would have objected or refused a session with the delectable innocent. My cock hardened at the thought.

Natasha explained and then directed; she ordered me to strip when Olga needed to urinate, and like with her mother, I laid in the bath with my head at the ledge end.

Olga’s gravid belly was enormous, and she looked ready to drop, rather than six months gone; her engorged breasts, with two of the biggest areola I had ever seen, begged to be sucked. I wanted to play and enjoy them, and the sight of her pregnant frame was provocative and arousing. Natasha held her cousin’s hand, and the young woman stood in the bath with the claim that her “fat body wouldn’t fit on the shelf!”

She had a smattering of pale brown pubic hair, trimmed slightly unevenly. I looked up at her cunt and watched as she froze. “Just let go. Piss on the fucking pervert. Drench the bitch.” Her feet were on either side of my head, squeezing my ears.

“I can’t. I never pee standing up. It won’t come.”

“Then squat!” My lodger snapped. She held on to Olga’s hand as the pregnant 20-year-old lowered her knees onto my arms, pinning me into the bath.

Olga sighed as I stared directly into pink slit. Her arsehole puckered as she tried to release her muscles and groaned as a gentle stream landed on my throat. Olga giggled. My eyes took in the luscious folds of her splayed pussy and she leant forward a little more, resting her hands on the side of the bath. And then her flow started.

Natasha barked at her. “That’s it. Cover him.”

She covered my lips, and Olga’s honey-coloured piss was sweeter than Natasha’s. A gentle saccharine edge smothered the acrid bitterness that I eagerly gulped down and enjoyed as it spattered over me.

It was filthy; I had only met Olga properly that day and I heartily quaffed her pee. Yet, I longed for her to plant her cunt on my lips and press down on my face. I wanted to run my tongue over her slit and probe her feminine folds. I wanted to feel her orgasm.

Her bladder emptied far quicker than Natasha’s; after a couple of mouthfuls and a small covering, her flood ebbed, and she ran her fingers through her crotch. “Does he always get hard when you piss on him?”

“Yeah,” Natasha replied. “And Gary did too. He used to fucking wank himself off when I pissed on him.” My lodger held Olga’s hand. “Just sit back. John loves to suck the piss off your cunt.”

Olga’s giant frame rested heavily on my forehead, pressing my skull against the cold, hard bath. But the smell of her luscious pussy was delicious. The taste of her arousal and her waste as my tongue swept over her young slit was sheer heaven.

I couldn’t see much, I could just smell and taste wet cunt. Trapped by her body, resting on my shoulders as I devoured her wonderful treat. She sighed and mewled as my lips massaged her clit; I probe her aroused pleats and ridges, sliding my tongue over her slippery moistness.

She rocked her hips gently, forcing my skull against the cold, hard enamel, as I feasted on Olga’s piquant muff. I could have stayed there all evening as I went down on my lodger’s expectant cousin. My cock itched for attention, but both women ignored it, as I devoured the succulence of the young lady. She squealed as I flicked her button and her body shook with a climax.

Natasha helped her pregnant cousin to her feet, and she stepped out of the bath. My golden shower from my friend was more routine. My lodger sat on the side of the bath and coated me in her watery piss that I loved so much. I caught several squirts of her harsh, acidic liquid that scorched the back of my throat as I gleefully drank it.

“He’s...”

“ ... quite the pervert,” Natasha finished for Olga. “Nasty little pig.” My cheeks burnt at the description Natasha gave about me, but I didn’t care. I was underneath the punk rocker luxuriating in her excretions, gulping down mouthfuls of her pee. “But I enjoy dominating men and so we like it.”

Natasha wiped herself with toilet tissue after her bladder ran dry, and they didn’t even look at me as they left, chatting. I showered and returned to the lounge, dressed in just a towel. “How did Olga’s piss compare to mine?”

“Yours is a fine wine,” I replied. “Olga’s was sweeter and less bitter.”

“Oh,” Olga muttered. “How sweet? It shouldn’t be sugary at all. My midwife warned me about that and made me do a urine test ages ago.”

“Not really, really sweet. Not like dessert wine,” I said, continuing my oenophile’s references, “but it was noticeably sweeter than Natasha’s.”

“She drinks too much bitter beer,” Olga teased, but she made a note on her phone as she looked at me. Natasha’s cousin stayed for a little while longer before I drove the young lady home in my car.

“When are you meeting with your guy?” I asked her as she directed me to her estate.

“Next week. Hugh wants me to come for the day. I don’t get what you enjoy out of it,” she admitted. “But he’s offered to give me a hundred and fifty quid for pissing on him. That’s easy money.” She gestured down the road. “He lives in a big house he got from his parents and gives me a lift to work. He’s nice enough, but strange. But it has to be me.”

“Maybe he’s infatuated with you,” I suggested.

“Like you are with Natasha,” Olga replied instantly, and pointed to a terraced house. “She told me about your office.” I must have blushed as I spluttered in response. “I think it’s rather sweet. You would make a good couple. Auntie thinks so.”

“She’s a very talented singer,” I muttered. “She has fans from all over the world.”

“Sure,” Olga said with a smirk. “And she also dominates you and you will do anything for her. You’re so pussy whipped!” She chuckled and thanked me for the lift, and I wondered what Natasha thought of me. Maybe I was infatuated with the unpredictable punk rocker; I loved spending time with her.