Peeing on the Peeper
My wife Barbara, a trim 35-year-old, had informed me that morning of a poolside party she was throwing for four of her friends and she wanted me to “stay out of the fuckin’ way”.
I do what Barbara, a brunette real estate millionairess with a stunning 36-24-36 figure, tells me. I’m five years her junior and a personal trainer, but I’ve got no doubt who runs our home – and it sure as hell ain’t me!
Barbara sells palaces around Beverly Hills that are homes for the mega rich, and while I work for some of those affluent people, a glance at our pre-nup agreement should leave you in no doubt as to who’s the boss in our house!
On the morning of the party, I arranged towels by five recliners, as Barb had told me four guests were expected. I checked that the poolside fridge was freshly stocked with wine, beer and soft drinks, then made myself scarce.
As it was a stinking hot summer’s day, I settled down in the den with a filthy magazine, wearing just a little thong. As I say, I’m a personal trainer and I practice what I preach. I’ve got a trim, well-muscled body, all over tan, and I’ve got a pretty trim muscle down there, even though I do say so myself. It’s just under nine uncut inches and I’ve never had any complaints.
Not that I put it about, since although my wife is the boss, the once-a-month sex session she allows me is always sensational.
Soon sounds of women’s laughter came from poolside and I decided to creep upstairs and look down on the scene – a little look never did anyone any harm, right? Wrong – but I wasn’t to know that.
In our large bedroom, I could peep down on poolside. Our pool is totally secluded. We live at the top of one of those Beverly Hills ridges and no one can look down on us.
By the pool, I could see Barbara, of course, wearing a sexy little red bikini and high heels. Her four guests were all similarly dressed – itsy-bitsy bikinis and high heels, a combination that really turns me on!
Anyway, I was peeping down, when out the corner of my eye I spotted a bunch of women’s underwear on the bed – they’d obviously changed up here before going down poolside. I checked out a nice pair of black satin panties, just a quick sniff. Oh shit, they smelled good! Then I picked up a little red thong.
As you will have guessed by now, that was what got me into trouble. I placed the lovely black pair on my face, then pulled down my thong, stepped out of it and rubbed the little red item over my swiftly rising cock.
Well, time flies when you’re having fun, as they say, and I must have let my mind wander because the next thing I knew, I heard a voice I was very familiar with barking at me like a machinegun going off.
“And what the fuck do you think you’re doing?” snapped my wife, who had crept up just behind me. I hadn’t even seen her leave poolside!
I spun round and stammered: “Er, I, well, you see …” Then my voice trailed off.
Barbara was glaring at me, her fists bunched on her hips, her lovely tanned muğla escort figure gleaming, her 36-inch breasts heaving.
“Oh shut the fuck up, you stinking pervert,” she snapped, “it was a rhetorical question. I can fuckin’ well see what you’re doing, you disgusting piece of shit.”
I began to remove the black satin panties from my face, but was halted by Barbara’s staccato command: “You can leave them on your face, and keep that fuckin’ thong on your cock, mister. I want them both in place when I show you off to the girls, you perverted little cunt, you!”
I tried to protest, but when Barbara’s pissed you don’t win, so I shut up.
“Get yourself downstairs, you arsehole,” she yelled, grabbing me by the ear and twisting it. “I had come up for a piss, but you’ve got me so pissed off I’m going to pee on you, you pathetic bastard!”
And that was how I was marched off down to the poolside, where my emergence from the downstairs lounge onto the large deck above the pool attracted a sudden, stunned reaction from the four ladies, sitting around on recliners enjoying drinks.
“Look what I found upstairs, girls,” called Barbara, as she led me down to the quartet. “My husband Tom – he’s fuckin’ aptly named because I found him upstairs perving on you, and look what he’s wearing!”
A lovely, large black woman stood and walked over. She was, I later discovered, 36-years-old and had purchased a very expensive property with the help of my wife a month previously.
She held out her hand and shook mine: “Hello Peeping Tom, my name’s Keisha. I trust you like those panties of mine you’re wearing. Nice and smelly, are they?”
I didn’t know what to say, but a reply became unnecessary when a tidily-built little blonde, at 25 as I was to discover the youngest of the group, bounced over, and laughed at my discomfort.
“Hi, Peeper,” she grinned, “my name’s Carmel, I’m the office secretary and I see you like my thong. Well, you can keep it, only please, keep wanking. You were wanking with it, weren’t you?”
I gulped, then nodded as Barbara barked: “Answer Carmel, you rude prick!”
“Now I’ll introduce you to the two ladies whose panties you obviously discarded,” said my wife, again grabbing me by the ear and painfully dragging me over to the two women who had remained seated on their recliners during Keisha and Carmel’s introductions.
Barbara indicated a big, blonde woman, her hair pulled back in a severe ponytail as Helga, who I knew from the name was another millionairess, like my wife, thanks to real estate sales. She was wearing a skimpy little black PVC bikini, which was straining deliciously at her magnificent 40-inch breasts. Silicon jobs, as I found later, not that that mattered.
“And this is Ro, our office manager,” said Barbara, introducing me to a 38-year-old brunette, with pert little 34-inch breasts, only just covered by a bikini that was really just thin strips of material.
The introductions over, I now earnestly rhodope-mugla.org hoped that I would be allowed to disappear back into the house, but Barbara was having none of it.
“Since I found him perving on us and doing disgusting things with our underwear, I’ve decided to punish him,” said my wife. “I had gone inside for a piss, but now I’m going to use this piece of crap instead.”
Keisha laughed: “You mean he’s pissed you off so you’re going to piss on him?”
Barbara nodded: “Exactly. I’m bursting for a piss, but first I’ve got to get him ready. Keisha, take him over to that trampoline and hold him there till I get back!”
The big-busted black woman – and when I say big, I’m talking 40-inchers – placed a tight grip on my shoulder and marched me across to the trampoline, set in one corner of the patio, which I often used for fitness workouts.
We stood in the hot sun for a few moments, then Barbara returned holding several pairs of pantyhose. “Up on the tramp, you tramp!” she snapped, laughing at her own joke.
I climbed up on the trampoline, feeling ridiculous, with Keisha’s sweet-smelling panties still on my face, Carmel’s tiny little thong still on my cock. “On your back,” barked Barbara, and I lay down on the hot black material of the trampoline’s mat.
My wife then tied my ankles and wrists to the four corners of the equipment, so that I was spreadeagled and helpless. When she had finished, Barbara turned to the group and announced: “I’m going to piss on him in a minute, but first I’m going to get a video recorder – Carmel, can you operate it?” The 25-year-old nodded.
“And I’m going to get my digital camera,” said Keisha, “I want a record of this, too.” The other women indicated that they too, would fetch their cameras and also get pictorial evidence of my punishment.
A minute or two later, Barbara came out of the house and instructed Carmel how to operate the camera. The others were standing by with their digital cameras for further records of my humiliation.
My wife then kicked off her high heels, pulled off her bikini bottom and clambered up onto the trampoline. Standing above my face she gave me a clear view up her shaved pussy, her pubic hair cropped back so she was almost hairless.
Then she squatted down and pulled Keisha’s panties from my by-now sweating face, and threw them on the tramp beside my upper torso. She was so close, I could smell the magnificent aroma of her sex.
“And now, you disgusting pervert, it’s punishment time,” she sneered. “I’m gonna piss on your face and your pathetic cock and balls – and you’re gonna thank me for it, OK?”
I nodded and mumbled “Yes, I understand, darling”. Barbara then felt behind her and pulled Carmel’s thong from my stiff cock. Then she moved down until her pussy was just above my genitals.
Suddenly I felt a warm flood as a strong stream of her urine splashed over my boner. She must have relieved herself for almost 30 seconds before stemming the flow. Then she knelt and crawled up until her steaming snatch was above my face.
“Thank me with a kiss,” she hissed, and I raised my head from the mat and licked her sex trench, tasting the strong saltiness of her urine that had lingered on her piss flaps.
Then I spluttered as Barbara again let loose another spurt of piss, this time directing it all over my face, over my mouth, my nose, my eyes – which I had grimly shut – and my forehead.
“Thank me!” she snarled, as her stream dropped to a dribble, before stopping entirely. I ran my tongue along her sex, once more tasting the salty tang of her piss.
Now that she had finished her pissing, I had hoped for some release from my humiliation, but that was not to be. Barbara then squatted over my piss-saturated cock and balls and ground her crotch against me.
With a sudden awful realisation, it then dawned on me that Barbara was going to present me with her pussy once more for more adoration. I wasn’t wrong. Her gleaming groin came up to my face and she grabbed me by the back of the head and pulled me into her pussy.
“Now fuckin’ thank me properly, slut,” she ordered, and I ran my mouth, lips and tongue all over her piss-drenched pussy. As I did, I was ashamed to feel a stirring in my groin – I was getting erect!
It was a sight not lost on the four-woman audience.
“Fucking hell,” I heard Keisha remark, “he’s cracking a fat, Barb!”
My wife continued her graunching on my working mouth, but grunted: “What a pervert! Well, now we know this turns him on, he’s in for some piss big time!”
Soon my lavish attentions to her pussy produced the usual effect and Barbara groaned and panted her way to a noisy orgasm – good job our pool’s secluded!
After she climbed off my face, Barbara informed her friends: “I’m going for a dip. Keisha, he had your panties on his face, so you can have him next, Carmel you go after her, then Helga and Ro, you can finish him off.”
Keisha smiled at me from her position by the trampoline. “I’m not ready to piss yet, darling, but I’ll give you a little treat. Isn’t that nice of me?”
I looked at the statuesque black woman as she peeled off her bra, to reveal not only big breasts, but possibly the largest nipples I’ve ever seen on a woman. She then stepped out of her bikini bottom to display a crotch shaved to leave just a mere frosting of tightly-coiled pubic hair.
Keisha then picked up her black satin panties from beside my sweating body, before carefully rubbing them all over my cock and balls. “There,” she said, soothingly, as she arranged them back over my face, “nicely freshened up, eh? See, I promised you a little treat, Mr Peeping Tom.”
And the women all laughed as they saw my cock standing stiff up from my groin.
“Judging by that cock, you like the piss perfume,” said Keisha, then the four women went back to their chairs and fixed fresh drinks. They all appeared to be big drinkers.
I lay back and sweated in the heat of the California sun, the piss-smeared panties providing me with a cock-raising perfume.
It looked like I was going to be in for a long afternoon.
To be continued.
