When she lifted her skirt and squatted over me, I could tell she wasn’t wearing panties. Unlike me she wasn’t shy about pissing and drenched my cu...t and thighs with a stream of forceful urine. And then it was his turn to do the same, directing his yellowish stream onto my clit. I moaned as it hit its mark. It felt so good. God, I wanted to touch myself so bad. I tugged vainly at the cuffs securing my hands behind my back, knowing it was pointless but trying anyway, driven by a primal need to. " "Sorry, Sir," I called back. "Sorry," Mr. Katz whispered, looking sheepish. When we got home that night, after Andrew's second missed appointment, he didn't even invite me to his room; he dragged me there by my upper arm. We didn't make it inside the apartment. He fucked me against the outside of the door with our clothes still on. "Stop flirting with John Katz," he growled through gritted teeth. "You're mine." I didn't answer. I wasn't flirting with anyone. The last thing I needed was. More

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