Rage Against the Latrine Ch. 17

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I took most of Natasha’s demands to heart; Monika and I had been in constant communication over September, and she moved to a student hall of residence in the centre of the city at the end of the month. I intended to leave her alone to enjoy Freshers Week, but she messaged me and asked that I visit her on the Friday.

That day, I drove into London. After I finished work, I changed out of my smart clothes and into a T-shirt and a pair of shorts I had brought with me. I took a large cardboard box from the boot of my car to her residence, around a mile away from my office.

Monika welcomed me into her flat, that she shared with several other students. The communal kitchen was agog with activity and I felt a little out of place, as everyone was twelve years younger than me. The teenage dominant introduced me as her “friend who is dating a rock star” and I saw a few smirks on the faces of the teenagers.

“Oh, the one who is the cousin of your bestie?” A black-haired guy in an open dressing gown asked, and she nodded. There was an Irish twang to his voice as his eyes met my gaze and I caught sight of his impressive prick through the gap in the towelling fabric.

“Yeah, c’mon, this is the kitchen and let me show you my room.” Monika’s bedroom was compact. A desk and wardrobe on her right wall, a single bed on the other and one of the smallest en-suites I had ever seen, which was more of a wet room with a sink and toilet. She sat on the bed as I put the clunking box beside her.

“This is… cosy.”

“It’s tiny,” she replied. “And it’s two-fifty a week.” My eyes bulged, but she shrugged. “I know. But UCL does an awesome psychology degree, and that’s what I want to do. Is this for me?”

“Of course, and I’d like to take you to dinner, too. My treat.”

“Oh, John. You better not be planning to be my Sugar Daddy in London,” Monika warned me. “Natasha would never allow it!”

She giggled at my shocked expression and opened the box. Two large bottles of vodka. Her lips curled into a smile. “Thanks. What’s this?” She took out a laptop and looked at me.

“It’s my old notebook. You said on the chat that your computer is ancient and didn’t hold its charge. Well, I buy myself an updated model every year so I’ve wiped this one and… thought you could use it.”

“That’s way too generous of you,” she muttered and took out the charging cable and peripherals. Then a new strap-on harness, four dildos, a butt plug set, douching kits, a giant box of condoms, sex toy disinfectant and three bottles of lubricant. “And this is for me to enjoy myself?”

“Yeah, I figured you’d need it. You said you loved fucking me with the strap-on. Maybe there are other men you can wrap around your little finger.” She put her hand on my knee and kissed me on the lips.

“Thank you. As I will be nearby, I want us to agree to only see each other once a week. Otherwise, I’m worried it’ll complicate things with you and Natasha.” I nodded.

“Sure.” I had considered a similar arrangement myself. “And you’d be doing what students do. Living the student’s life. Not satisfying the perverted fantasies of someone old enough to be your uncle.” She chuckled. “But I want to take you out for a meal. I’ve not seen you for a couple of months. I want to catch up with you.”

We went to a nearby tavern for “pub grub.” Monika oozed sex appeal and got several glances as she ate her dinner over a bottle of wine. I asked about her Freshers Week experience and she gave an exuberant response. The young lady from Windermere genuinely loved her first few days in the city, despite the exorbitant cost, and I adored her company.

I walked her back to her flat, and at the bottom of the stairs, she put her hand around my waist and kissed me on the cheek. The coquettish teen whispered in my ear. “Do you want to come upstairs and try out the new strap-on?”

“If you want me to,” I replied, a little coyly. “You know I always love you doing that sort of thing! But I didn’t buy it so I have a sexy dominant within walking distance of batıkent escort my office. Only if you wanted to.”

She chuckled and as I climbed the stairs, and she smacked my backside. “You know I love doing that sort of thing.”

Monika unlocked her bedroom door, walked to the bed, and threw the douching kit to me. “Get naked and douched?” I asked, and she hummed affirmatively as she looked at the sex toys in the box. We talked as I sat on her toilet and prepared my arse for her invading dong.

“Did I tell you I have a date on Sunday?”

“No! That’s cool.”

“Yeah, we played drinking games and then Truth or Dare with some lads in Jackson House on Tuesday and it got dirty. I said I had pegged and peed on and dominated a guy and then, the following day, one of the guys sent me a text asking for a date because he thought we sounded compatible.”

“That’s cool,” I muttered, feeling a little envious that someone else might experience Monika like I did. I rinsed my butt with the warm water using the douching kit until the liquid ran clear and I put my clothes on top of her towel radiator in the en-suite.

I entered the room and gasped at the sight. Monika had an incredible body, but she stood, leaning against her desk in most of her Agent Provocateur lingerie set. Black stockings, with a black garter belt and the black bra. All translucent, with a mesh covering. She was devastatingly sexy. Her hairless mons, uncovered and so appealing.

She turned to face the desk. “Kiss my cheeks,” she demanded, and I scrambled to my knees to worship her buttocks. My lips danced over her derriere, smooching her skin loudly. My tongue probed her butt crack, and I kissed the outside of her whorl.

She put more and more pressure on me, smothering my face with her cheeks and forcing me backward until I lost my balance and tumbled onto the thin, rough carpet covering the hard floor. She said nothing as she lowered her body to perch her butt on my forehead and pressed my nose into her cunt.

I had approached heaven. I smelt her delicious musk as my tongue swept over her button, tasting and inhaling her juices. She groaned as I lapped at her clit, enjoying her taste as my mouth slipped over her musky wetness.

Her hands gently caressed my cock, teasing it into an erection. I moaned into her cunt, savouring her horny stickiness covering my skin. Her weight bore down on me, holding my face into her slippery crotch, as her hand stroked my horniness to the edge of orgasm.

Each time, she backed off. Monika brought my arousal to the precipice of my eruption and removed her stimulation from my prick, as her hips ground her dripping cunt into my face. So close, and yet so far. She adjusted her weight to force my nose fully against her hole, cutting off my breathing. I gulped in air as she moved, and her body weight bore down on me, allowing me only snatched breaths.

Her first orgasm was a writhing, groaning, squealing explosion of lust as she rocked her hips over my tongue and soaked my skin with her delicious juices. Her second came after she teased me to near desperate tears. I pleaded with her, begging into her cunt as my body danced along the brink of satisfaction.

She knew what she was doing. She saw how close I was, and how feverish my arousal felt. My cries were futile and forlorn and she taunted me for them.

After another orgasm, she rose from my flooded face, and, barely making eye contact, unwrapped the medium-size dildo from the packaging. The teenager threaded it into her new black harness, which she stepped into. “Turn over, my little butt slut!” She teased.

I did so, presenting my backside to her as she unrolled a condom down the shaft and smeared lubricant on me and her new toy.

Being buggered on the floor was a delicious humiliation. The grips of her fingers on my waist and the harsh carpet burn on my knees as she hammered the dildo against my prostate were part of the experience. My mind floated away immediately. I savoured the beşevler escort feeling in my loins as the shaft swept over my special spot as she powerfully stretched my ring and sodomised me.

Monika, an eighteen-year-old University student, penetrated me on the floor of her flat. And I loved every moment. I adored the power dynamics, and the feeling of her nylon-clad thighs smacked against mine, causing my dick to flail. Her rubber balls smashed against my perineum as her cock-head drew gasps and squeals from me.

My body shook as the first of many orgasms cascaded through it. Her actions of tease and denial had brought my flesh to an intense arousal, and I experienced wave after wave of climatic shocks that powered through my soul, touching every fibre in my being.

Pre-cum poured from my cock as those erotic earthquakes rocked me, and as I breathlessly gasped and groaned, a tsunami of carnal fulfilment rose inside my loins and vigorously spread across my skin.

My fingers scrabbled at the carpet as a million sexual images flashed into my closed eyes and cum gushed from my swinging dick. It was the most intense orgasm I had ever had at the hands of Monika, and she ground her prick deep inside me, sparking my loins into enjoyment once more. She giggled as she slapped my arse, reinforcing her dominance.

Afterwards, I cleaned her carpet of my cum. Monika unclipped her stockings after I scrubbed her navy floor clean. She put her lingerie on the desk and walked with me into the en-suite with the glistening dildo still strapped to her waist.

Cleaning the prick that had been inside me a few moments earlier was a greater humiliation. I removed the condom, and used the sex toy cleaner to disinfect her rubber cock, before I knelt before her and polished the black dildo still attached to her waist.

Her expensive lingerie was “hand clean” only, and she watched over me as she passed a box of handwash detergent. The teenager made me launder her underwear while she messaged on her phone. “Good boy,” she patronised, patting me on the buttocks as I washed her extravagant, intimate clothing for the delicious teen.

The ultimate act of defilement was to come; she bundled me into her shower, stood over me and released a golden yellow torrent of harsh, acidic piss that cascaded over my face and body.

I lapped at the flow and plunged my tongue into her cunt to swirl against her clit as she soaked me and fill my mouth with her pee. My brain loved every act of domination from Monika and I treasured her nasty acts of rampant humiliation. I worshipped the student’s pissy slit and my lips closed over her butthole, showering her rosebud with long, intimate kisses, as my fingers toyed with her pussy.

Her ring relaxed; I pushed my tongue deeper and deeper into her canal, ignoring the earthy taste. She groaned, and her thighs quivered, and for the umpteenth time that evening, a wild rush of sexual energy swept through her teenage body.

We showered together, kissing under the warm, wet stream. “Will you stay the night?” Monika asked, and I nodded. I dressed, and we went to the bar and played pool with a couple of her friends. It looked normal, and I met some graduate students in their late twenties, but I still felt like the teenage dominant had lowered her standards to be with me.

Sleeping in a single bed meant I had to spoon the nubile woman, and it took a while to get to sleep. In the morning, I made breakfast while she went for a run and then showered. “I better go. Thanks for everything,” I said, blushing a little.

“No. Thank you,” Monika replied. “And John, I’ll see you next Friday, but whenever you come here, you must wear shorts or a skirt. I wear the trousers in this friendship, not you.”

“OK,” I muttered. The kinky soubrette kissed me on the cheek and waved as I left her overpriced student room. My house was cold and eerie and, feeling lazy, I took a walk down to the pub for my tea.

As I returned home, wandering up my country lane, beypazarı escort I spotted someone lurking on the drive to the rear entrance to Belmont Hall. They could not traverse the locked gates, and they turned when I walked past them, so I could not see their hooded face reflected in the bright light of their phone.

I double-checked the locks on my doors and windows before I went to bed, and kept checking my driveway, but saw nothing more. He stood watching me on Sunday afternoon on the village green when I cycled through my hamlet, and I was certain he surreptitiously photographed me. I rang Natasha, believing that the shadowy man was a journalist or paparazzi. She scoffed, but he looked suspicious.

The weekend had been hot, and anyone wearing jumpers or long-sleeves stood out. He wore a plain hoodie and there was something questionable about him. But, as I conquered the vicious gradients in the beautiful Chiltern Hills, I stopped worrying about the mystery man and I did not see him in the little hamlet on my return.

The moment I put my key in my front door, I realised it was unlocked. My heart pounded as I picked up a metal figurine from the hallway, slowing advancing on the noise coming from the kitchen. I burst into the room; the wrought iron bust aloft to defend myself when I came face to face with Natasha.

She shrieked as I brandished the weapon, inches above her head. “What the fuck?”

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“I fucking live here,” she cried. “Remember?”

I put the figure on the table, panting. “You’re supposed to be on tour.”

“I thought I’d surprise you.”

I sighed. “You fucking did that all right. I assumed you were a burglar.”

She chuckled. “We are in St Albans tomorrow night and Aylesbury on Tuesday. You sounded like you needed the company. Especially as you are getting nervous about some stranger in the village. I thought we could have tea in the garden. Naked. Then some fun later. But go have a shower first. You stink!”

I quickly washed under the hot cascade of steamy water, and sat outside in the bright sunshine with my girlfriend, drinking a glass of wine in the blazing Sun.

She talked about the tour as we spent time with each other, enjoying the company of our partners. I felt a connection with the punk rocker that I had never experienced with anyone, and we kissed and snogged multiple times in the warm afternoon.

There was no sex, little erotic chatter, but a strengthening of our union as we drank a bottle and a half of wine. I massaged her with some of Monika’s pink massage lotion, which she had left behind, and my lover lay in the grass as I swept over her skin, causing my beautiful woman to purr contentedly.

My fingers teased her slit and her buttocks, smoothly gliding and caressing her intimate areas with greased palms and wondering hands.

“We could…” I said and trailed off when I saw movement on the garden path. I rose from my crouching position. A tall, scowling gentleman strode down my across my secluded lawn. “Err… Hello?” He didn’t reply, but continued to advance on me. I recognised him from the village. “That’s enough. Who are you?” I asked, stepping between Natasha, now sitting up, and the glowering individual. “What do you want?”

He grunted; his beady eyes bore into me as he stopped a couple of feet from my naked body. The abrasive man glared at me. “You don’t know me, but I want something,” he barked.

“You with Samantha?” I asked. “She’s not having a penny. I’ve told her.”

He snorted and shook his head. He had a slightly unkempt look about him. Two or three day stubble, with unbrushed dark hair and untidy tradesman clothes. The short, stout guy spoke with a Northern twang, radiating anger as he snarled. His body language reeked of unfriendliness. His hand, screwed into a fist, smashed into my chest. I saw his arm move and flinched, but he still connected with my stomach and as I fell backwards, his hands grabbed hold of my shoulders, throwing me onto the grass.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” I groaned, fighting and scrapping with the incensed individual as we wrestled.

Two women screeched from my garden gate. “Robin, stop it!”

He ignored them. “I’m Cath’s husband and I need some answers, scumbag.”

“Ah,” I muttered. The shit had hit the fan.

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