A Golden Evening

The warmth of the apartment wrapped around us as we entered, amplifying the two-drink glow which had accompanied us from the bar. A slender, willowy reed, my companion shrugged off her long black leather coat, her surprisingly full breasts dancing sensuously with the movement. I handed her my trench-coat and headed for the kitchen as she made her way to the coat closet.

The bright tinkling sound of metallic hangers floated in from the hall as I reached into the cupboard and retrieved two high-ball glasses. Placing them side by side on the counter, I turned and pulled the bottle of Canadian rye whiskey from its perch above the refrigerator. I heard the tap of the spiked heels of my lover's graceful black suede granny-boots in the hallway as I poured two shots of the amber liquid in each glass, and I pictured the delicate white span of the graceful legs which rose from those boots to terminate in the darkness of the moist cleft above. I heard her ringing voice, just a little brighter than before we’d gone to the bar, ask what I was doing. "If only you knew," I thought to myself. This night had barely even begun. "Making us a couple of drinks," I responded.

Taking one glass in each hand, I followed her into the main room of the studio. She turned by the bed, a question perched upon her forehead as she saw me set the two glasses on a pale wooden tv tray, the color of the whiskey appearing vibrant gold against the surface. She had expected mixed drinks. I smiled faintly. "I still need to mix them," I said.

My lover's mouth floated gently open for a moment as she began to inquire as to the mix, then snapped shut in surprise as I reached with my right hand and began to unzip my leather pants. Silently her eyes followed me, glued to my hand as I reached into the open fly and drew forth my cock. My bladder had been itching for half an hour, since we had left the bar. I looked to her face as I held the head of my cock over one of the glasses. Her eyes were wide, shining green orbs perched within a face utterly absorbed in the scene before it.

With a shiver as the urine moved within my cock in spite of its half-aroused state, I began slowly to fill the drink. "This is actually a great mix for whiskey," I announced without looking up, trying not to show the excitement that I was feeling. Stifling the flow, I moved my cock to the other highball glass. "And the nice thing about this mixer is that you never run out," I concluded in an offhand tone as the warm, golden fluid rose within the glass.

There was an itching in my groin as I zipped my penis back into its warm darkness, for I had not even nearly emptied my bladder. Must save some for later, I thought. Taking one hot, aromatic drink in each hand, I walked toward my companion and extended my right hand toward her. Fascination, fear, and adventurous breathlessness danced upon her face as she took the drink from me. "It's so warm," were her throaty words as her hand closed upon the thin glass.

I smiled as I met her emerald eyes, saw the anticipation there. I took a sip from my own warm, golden brew. "Not bad. A good, warm drink for a cool night." I knew that seeing me drink of the mixture would make it easier for her to do so. Her gaze was locked on my glass as I lowered it from my lips. Shyly, meekly, her tongue ventured from within its moist cavern to wet her lips, an excited flush dawning upon her cheeks. With a smile, she lifted her potion and took a deep sip. Surprise stretched across her face as the mixture rolled through her mouth and rippled down her throat, and my chest felt tight with the exhilaration of the sight. "Not bad," she admitted, an excited ringing in her voice. "But I think I'd rather drink it straight."

I took a slow sip from my drink as I covered my surprise. "You will," I responded, my voice carried to a deep timbre by the intensity of her reaction. This was beyond anything I had expected, and my hand shook almost imperceptibly as I placed my drink back on the tray. "One or two of these will set the stage." I smiled at her, looking at the glass in her hand. Following my gaze, she drew again from it in response to the unspoken command. "In the meantime," I continued, eyeing her lithe form hungrily, "take off your clothes."

My brown-tressed sprite set down her glass next to mine as she proceeded to follow my instructions. Settling gracefully upon first one knee and then the other, she carefully unlaced each ebony boot. Rising, she gently kicked her bare feet clear of their black leather coverings. Languidly, she peeled her tissue-thin white top off over her head, moving with rippling grace. Dropping the gauzy fabric on the back of one of the dining-chairs, she reached down and undid the snap of her size 0 waistband. With a shake of her wide, earth-mother hips she peeled out of the pants like a lazy, sun-warmed snake peeling its skin, her 34C-20-34 body revealed in all its glory. Her pantiless loins with their prominent rose-petal labia stared at me (she preferred to dress "commando-style"), only the pale, transparent fabric of her flimsy bra obscuring my view of her body, and that only for a moment as she reached with both hands behind her back to undo the clasp and remove the filmy garment, letting her milky, alabaster breasts swing free.

She perched on the edge of the low futon bed, facing me where I sat in my rolling, cushioned desk-chair. Rolling the chair toward her, I handed her the still-warm drink and raised mine in toast. With a deep gulp, we upended the glasses, emptying them. I leaned toward her and took her left nipple roughly in my right hand, watching her face while stretching the delicate flesh and rolling it between thumb and forefinger for several minutes before releasing the rosy peak and hearing her moan as the now-erect mound of flesh snapped back. "I'll be right back," I said. Her face was almost as flushed as the thumb-thick nipple which towered upon her breast, and the eyes which followed me were brimming with lust. She definitely had the most massive and responsive nipples of any woman I'd ever been with, I thought as I turned into the kitchen.

Returning a moment later with the whiskey, I poured two shots in each glass once again. Unzipping my black leather, I pulled my half-aroused penis from my fly. "Take one of them and hold it for me," I directed

my naked, submissive nymph, nodding toward the waiting glasses. There were sparks flashing in her eyes as she slowly obeyed, gingerly reaching forward to present the glass, and watched me pee into the waiting whiskey, filling the drink with warm honey. She took a sip from that drink and licked her lips before presenting the other for me to fill. Filling it, we exchanged another toast.

I sat once again before her and reached forwarto take a nipple in each hand, pinching them hard as I stretched them toward the ceiling. Her back arched as she tried to lift herself to meet my hands. "Harder ... oh, God, Harder," I heard her moan as I stretched the delicate tissue. I rolled the nipples ever more tightly, by slow increments putting all of the strength of my grip into the pinch between thumb and forefinger. "You're hurting me," she moaned quietly as her loins twitched upon the bed. "Yes, I am," I replied with a smile. "Do you want it harder?" "Please," was the gasp that came back to me. "Then empty your drink," I commanded. I watched the eagerness in her face as she upended her drink, draining the potion within. It seemed that I felt the warmth rolling down her rippling throat as my own throat tightened in excitement at the vision of her submission. As my pliant nymph lowered her glass, I pulled upward on her rosy nubs of stretching flesh until it seemed that she was on the verge of floating from the surface of the bed.

The next hour or two were a blur of clothespins and clover-clamps and nipples which had no limits for torture, ending in sex with her above me while I held her stretched tightly against nipples caught in clamps and anchored by chain. I never tired of seeing how she would throw herself with increasing force against her clamped flesh as she drew near orgasm, never tired of seeing her inflict the intimate pain on herself through the force of her own arousal, never tired of seeing her willingness to stretch her tethered nipples in her surges against my cock.

Finally we lay together, her still-clamped nipples heavy against my chest, breath returning in ragged gasps. After a long moment, I pushed upwards against her shoulders, causing her to rise to a position still-seated upon my still-quivering semi-erect cock, a position in which I could remove the clover-clamps from the rosy flesh which tipped her breasts, savor her gasps at the removal.

"I need to go to the bathroom," I announced, my eyes locked on hers. She nodded and swung her weight toward the inside of the bed, moving herself from atop my groin so that I could rise. Standing, I turned to my lover and said, holding out my hand, "Come with me." Up went one eyebrow as the question-mark grew in her eyes, and she mutely nodded as she swung her long, slender legs toward the edge of the futon. Her full breasts swayed upon her alabaster chest as she stood, their nipples towering swollen raspberries of deep red and purple from their recent torture.

I took her left hand in my right and led the way down the hall to the bathroom. Guiding her toward the tub, I pulled back the shower curtain and stepped inside. "Climb in," I said, smiling. She hesitated for a moment, her crimson tongue darting out to pass slowly across her lips as she looked from me to the tub and back again. Then, "Facing you, I suppose," she asked. "Yes," came my response as I reached toward her and took a ripe, purple berry in each hand to pull her nakedness toward me by that intimate flesh, "and kneel in front of me." I kept my tight grip as she stepped into the porcelain tub, and allowed my pinching, kneading fingers to accompany her as she knelt where I had indicated, her face transfixed with the sensations entering her body through her fully-awoken nipples.

There was a dew of expectation shining upon her face as she looked up at me. "Open your mouth and keep looking at me," I commanded, releasing the purplish fruit as I straightened. My cock was half-erect as I took it in my right hand and pointed it at her open lips. Then the near-agonizing reality revealed itself to me -- between the powerful taboo which I was crossing and the mildly aroused state of my cock, my bladder though bursting would not begin to flow. After several long futile minutes, I lowered the aim of my cock to a less taboo location, to the ivory breasts which hung heavy before me.

The tickle deep in the root of my cock finally began to grow as the stream of urine teased its way past reluctant, obstructing tissues. I gave a low gasp as I let my piss flow slowly, controlled, the thin golden stream splashing upon the carmine-tipped breasts which swayed before my thighs, bouncing gently from the impact of the yellow arc. A quiet moan rose to my ears as the thick, warm fluid flowed across her breasts and down her chest and belly to the down-wrapped pussy waiting below. Slowly I slid the wet golden tracer up my companion's chest, up the hollow of her throat, let it splash for a moment on her chin and cheek, lingering for a moment to let her clearly see the spectacle of the approaching finger of moist warmth, then finally directed the thin, arcing flow into the welcoming gap of her parted lips. I heard the tinkling sound of delicate splashing as her mouth filled and saw the ripple of her throat as she swallowed. My lover's eyes were half-closed shadows as I leaned forward to insert my fountain between her ruby lips and told her to close her mouth around me. "Drink me without missing a drop. I'll pause when you need to breathe."

I could feel the warmth around my nearly-aroused member as her mouth filled with my golden flow. The ecstasy of total surrender was visible on her face as her throat rippled over and over again. Not a drop escaped her crimson lips as I slowly emptied my bladder. “Open your eyes,” I commanded. Her face shined as her eyes settled first on the cock in her mouth and then began their climb up my body to my waiting eyes above. The intimacy of the experience was excruciating as I saw the depth of her submission in the bottomless pools of green which had replaced her eyes, and I imagined the warmth spreading its fingers from her belly as she filled with my hot fluids. I felt the flow trickle to an end, and reached for those final spurts which fully empty the body, spurts which shot directly down her throat rather than gently filling her mouth. "For the rest of the night, you'll do this whenever I need to relieve myself," I told her as she began to suck on my now-spent cock. Her eyes met mine, and she eagerly nodded her agreement. "Yes," came the breathless response from around my cock. "Please."

I reached down and gripped both of her moist, unseen nipples, now swollen harder than ever due to the liquid which had cooled upon them, while she sucked at me as if she could pull a few more drops from me to satisfy the thirst I had awoken in her. As I came in the wide, full-lipped upturned mouth of that kneeling nymph, I realized that I would be training her from that point, so that eventually we would not need the protection of porcelain, so that eventually she would be able to drink me without our rising from bed. I explained this to her as she rose to her feet, a drop of my come still on her lips. "Yes," came her throaty response. "Please. Let me be your piss slut. Let me drink you always, whenever you want."

And I would do exactly that.