Piss in the ass – piss inside ass, anal full of piss, hard anal and piss inside asshole – Part 2

Title: “Anal Piss Enema: Part 2”

As the muscular, tattooed Latino man continued his arc of golden piss into the eagerly presented asshole of the submissive Caucasian man, the world seemed to slow down and crystallize in every sordid detail.

The crimson-tinted light from the bar’s circling neon sign painted artistically across the scene, the music thrumming from inside the building pulsating through the old brick walls.

Semen smeared across both men’s abdomens, glistening in the light. The giver’s cock jutted long and proud, the recipient kneeling on shaky legs, cheeks flushed and lips parted with base arousal.

The stream of piss that had begun shakily earlier now flowed strong, the sound of liquid hitting flesh echoing obscenely in the night air. The sub’s mouth formed a silent “O” – eyes rolled back, tongue lolling. His softening cock gave a last, valiant twitch, clear juices oozing from the tip.

The giver shuddered, biting his lip to hold back the hoarse shout that wanted to escape. He couldn’t remember a time his cock had felt so stimulated, or so pleasurably drained. The tingling became a burning sensation as he forced out the very last drops.

Finally, he stumbled back, chest heaving. The piss still pooled in the wide-stretched hole, droplets leaking out to trickle down the hairy, muscular slope of the sub’s ass cheeks. Eyeing the aftermath with satisfaction, the giver reached out and roughly finger-traced some of the piss, pushing it back inside the twitching hole.

The sub muffled a squeal against his forearm, gasping as a wave of intense stimulation rocked through him. His fucked-out mind registered the sound of a latching gate, signaling the return of the bar patron who’d set up this public spectacle.

Pulling himself together with visible effort, the giver helped the sub stand, if sway and wobble could be called standing. Their gazes locked, eyes hot with lingering lust. A silent understanding passed between them. This was more than a casual piss-and-run hookup.

Eking out precious moments, they tidied themselves as much as was possible, tucking weary cocks and wiping away piss and lube smears. Hands found hands as they turned to go, lacing together without words.

But movement out of the corner of the Latino’s sharp gaze caught his attention. A shadowy figure had darted between two parked cars, peering around the corner. The two lovers had an audience, and one that seemed overly interested.

Eyes narrowing, the Latino gave his companion’s hand a warning squeeze. He quickened their pace,alla outr6
ing the bartender in helping the sub through the alley gate and into the dark. The stink of the piss puddles underfoot was thick and unnervingly arousing. They were almost to the busy street before they heard running footsteps behind them.

A slight young man caught up to them, panting and bright-cheeked. He looked strung out, almost feral, and his movements were as jumpy as his eyes.

“Hey! You’re late. I was waiting,” he breathed. “You owe me, fuckers. I want payment.”

The Latino tensed, muscles coiling. He felt the sub tremble at his side, and deftly positioned himself between the newcomer and his lover. He had no idea what this junkie wanted, but when it came to his man, he’d be fucking hell itself before he let him get hurt.

“Rick? What the fuck?” The sub’s voice emerged thin and wavery.

“Payment,” the young man repeated insistently. “I saw you two, what you did. I want in. I won’t tell anyone!”

This was escalating fast. The Latino knew he needed to calm the situation, but his growing anger was making that a challenge. The junkie’s eyes were all over him, hungry, and it made his skin crawl.

“Back off,” he growled. “We don’t owe you a damn thing. Far as I’m concerned, you saw zilch.”

The sub was shaking his head, backing away a step. “Not here,” he begged. “Let’s just go home.”

“Sure, sure, go on,” the junkie called after them,, turning away on unsteady legs. “Guess you’ll never know when I’ll snitch to the cops. Or maybe I’ll just post it for all your friends to see. Fuckin’ perverts!”

At the crass words, the sub jerked as if struck. The fight went out of him and he sagged back on the wall, shaking his head.

“I…I can’t believe it,” he whispered as the Latino bustled him along the street and into the relative safety of a quiet back alley. “We were so careful. He must have been lurking in the shadows, waiting. Why us?”

“I don’t -” the Latino stopped short, shock running through him at the sub’s words. Frantically, he looked around as if an enemy were lurking in the trash-strewn corners.

“I’m sorry,” the sub said miserably. “I shouldn’t have said that. It’s just…I thought we were safe. I thought no one would ever know.”

Not wanting to spook the clearly upset man further, the Latino gently herded him toward a brightly lit storefront to better assess the situation.

“Maybe he’s just an opportunistic weirdo,” he offered, though he didn’t believe it. His gut was telling him this was something more insidious. “We’ll figure it out,” he promised, cheeks dusting with color at the love and trust shining in the younger man’s eyes. “I promise I’ll keep you safe. We’ll get through this.”

The words meant more than he could express. The hand in his meant everything. He would move heaven and earth to protect this man and this rapidly deepening bond. The question was, what did it mean? And how far would the other man go to threaten what they had?

Only time would tell.