His filthy little fountain

Part 2, writing after 3 years. I completely forgot about this website.

That bathroom moment changed everything for me. I’m twenty now, sitting here alone in our little apartment three years later, my thighs already slick just from remembering how it all started. I was seventeen, perched on the toilet with my shorts around my ankles, and my boyfriend my neighbor, two years older, the boy I’d been sneaking oral sessions with for weeks walked right in. He didn’t leave. He watched me pee, then begged to piss between my legs while I was still going. His cock, the first one I’d ever seen up close, looked so thick and real, and when that hot stream hit my stomach and sprayed across my little pussy… God, I yelled, but my clit throbbed like it had never throbbed before. The smell, the warmth running down my folds, the way he made me lick him clean afterward strong, salty piss on my tongue left me soaked and shaking. He kissed me deep before he left, promising to eat me out next time, and I sat there thinking it was gross… but wonderful. So fucking wonderful. That was the spark. From shy oral play to full-blown boyfriend-girlfriend obsession, we’ve spent the last three years turning each other inside out in the filthiest, most loving ways imaginable. We experiment constantly because we can. Because we trust each other completely. And every dirty new thing just makes me love him more.

The very next day he kept his word. My parents were gone, so I dragged him into my room, stripped, and let him spread me open on my bed. His mouth was on me instantly tongue flat and hungry, licking from my ass all the way up to my clit, sucking my lips, pushing inside like he wanted to taste every drop I could give him. When I came I gushed hard, soaking his face, and he moaned like it was the sweetest thing he’d ever drunk. He crawled up, kissed me slow and deep, letting me taste my own pussy on his tongue salty sweet and warm. I loved that. Still do. I’ll suck his tongue afterward just to chase the flavor of myself mixed with him. It makes me feel claimed. Owned. Perfectly filthy.

He’s addicted to my squirt now. Obsessed. He’ll edge me for hours just to make me flood his mouth. Last month he had me riding his face on the livingroom floor, my hands braced on the couch while he sucked my clit and curled two fingers against my G-spot. I tried to hold back, but he slapped my ass and growled, “Give it to me, baby. I want every fucking drop.” I squirted so hard it sprayed across his chest, dripped down his chin, soaked the carpet. When I finally stopped trembling he looked up at me, face glistening, eyes dark with pride, and said, “Fuck, I love how you taste when you let go for me.” That always makes me so proud I could cry. I’m his personal little fountain, and knowing he craves it that he’ll drink me like he’s dying of thirst makes me feel like the sexiest girl alive. I squirt on purpose for him now, pushing it out while he laps it up, moaning my name between swallows.

He’s magic with my tits too. My boobs have always been sensitive, but he turned them into full-on erogenous zones. He’ll spend whole evenings just worshipping them big hands cupping and kneading, thumbs circling my nipples until they’re aching and diamond-hard. He knows exactly how to pinch and roll them, how to tug just hard enough to make my back arch and my pussy clench. One night he had me on my back, legs spread wide, and he latched onto one nipple, sucking deep and rhythmic while he pinched and twisted the other. The pressure built so perfectly I felt an orgasm blooming right from my chest deep, rolling, electric. I came without him touching my clit at all, nipples pulsing, thighs shaking, a fresh gush soaking the sheets beneath me. He looked up, lips shiny, and whispered, “My girl can come just from these pretty tits. God, I love you.” Now nipple orgasms are our favorite game. He’ll suck and bite until I’m begging, then push me over the edge while I grind against nothing, coming again and again just from his mouth on my chest.

The first time he touched my ass was completely without warning, and it wrecked me in the best way. We were in the shower at his place, hot water pounding down, steam everywhere. I was facing the wall, hands braced, moaning as he rubbed my clit from behind with his soapy cock sliding between my thighs. I felt his thumb thick, slippery press right against my tight little hole. I gasped, “Baby, wait..” but he just shushed me softly, kissed the back of my neck, and pushed inside anyway. One smooth inch, then two, stretching me open while his fingers kept working my pussy. I thought I’d panic, but the fullness was so dirty and good I pushed back on him instead, whimpering. He fingered both holes in perfect rhythm until I came so hard my knees buckled. When he finally pulled his thumb out there was a little mess on it nothing we hadn’t seen before but he didn’t flinch. He just rinsed it off under the water, turned me around, and kissed me like I was the most precious thing in the world. “You’re perfect" he murmured. I loved that he didn’t care. It made me feel safe. Desired. Completely his.

After that we went further. About a year ago we tried full anal for the first time. We’d prepped for months—fingers, toys, gallons of lube but nothing prepares you for that first stretch. He bent me over the bed, slow and gentle, and when the thick head of his cock finally popped past my rim I felt so full I could barely breathe. It was messy there was some… well, you know but we were so comfortable with each other we just laughed through it. He pulled out, cleaned us both with a warm washcloth, kissed my forehead, then slid back in and fucked me deep and steady while he reached around to rub my clit. I came twice before he filled my ass with thick, hot ropes of cum. Afterward we showered together, giggling, kissing, already planning the next time. Messy anal is one of our favorite things now raw, real, and so fucking intimate because we don’t hide anything from each other.

But our biggest ongoing obsession is his piss. That first bathroom moment unlocked a hunger in me I can’t get enough of. I want him inside me when he goes. We’ve been trying for months my ultimate fantasy. He has to be soft to pee, so the second he gets hard it stops. That’s where my favorite game comes in. I love dropping to my knees when he’s desperate to go, taking his soft, heavy cock into my mouth and sucking gently. I tease him on purpose, swirling my tongue around the head, humming, knowing he’s clenching every muscle trying to hold it. “Baby, please,” he’ll groan, hands in my hair, fighting the urge. But I just look up at him with big innocent eyes and suck harder, slurping noisily like the dirty little slut I am for him. Sometimes a warm trickle escapes and I moan around him, swallowing every drop salty, intimate, his. I love being his toilet, his filthy girl. I’ll keep sucking until he can’t hold it anymore and lets go in my mouth, filling it with his hot piss while I gulp it down greedily, eyes watering, pussy dripping. He calls me his perfect dirty slut and it makes me come untouched every single time.

We’re still working on getting it inside my pussy or ass. Last week we tried again in the tub. I was on all fours, ass up, and he pressed his soft cock against my pussy, trying to relax. I reached back and stroked him slowly, whispering how much I wanted him to fill me up, how I’d clench around his piss and let it leak out of me. A few warm spurts made it inside and I came instantly, pushing back so more would flood me. It’s still a work in progress he gets hard too fast from how much I love it but we laugh and try again every chance we get. The fantasy alone keeps me soaked for days.

Three years in and we still can’t get enough. Last night he had me on the kitchen counter at 2 a.m., legs wrapped around him while he sucked my nipples until I had another nipple orgasm, then dropped down and drank my squirt straight from my pulsing cunt. I pulled him up, kissed him slow and filthy so I could taste myself on his tongue, then sank to my knees and worshipped his sweaty cock after a long day at work. I buried my nose in his balls, inhaling that thick, musky smell I crave, licked every salty drop of sweat, then sucked the precum beading at the tip like it was candy. When he came I kept him deep, swallowing every thick rope, then licked him clean while he trembled. Afterward we showered, and he fingered my ass again messy fingers and all while I rode his hand and begged him to try peeing inside me one more time.

I don’t know what the next three years will bring, but I know we’ll keep pushing every boundary together. He’s my best friend, my lover, my partner in every filthy fantasy. Every time he drinks my squirt like it’s his favorite drink, every time he sucks my tits until I come from my nipples alone, every time I slurp his soft cock and swallow his piss while calling myself his dirty slut… I fall deeper in love. We’re messy. We’re real. We’re completely, shamelessly ours. And I wouldn’t trade a single dripping, tasting, squirting, pissing second of it.