Nylon mistress pees on you

I stand over you, legs spread wide, sheer, flesh-colored nylon stockings glistening wetly on my thighs, the stockings already soaked with my arousal. My skirt is hiked up, my wet pussy right above your face—you see it throbbing, the first drop already trickling down.

"Open your mouth wider, you worthless piss-soak," I hiss and let go. The first hot stream shoots out—golden yellow, steaming, salty, straight into your throat. You gag, swallowing in panic as I laugh and squeeze even harder.  "Shwallow, you filthy pig—swallow everything your mistress gives you. Not a drop wasted, or I'll whip your balls raw."

The stream intensifies, filling your mouth, running down your chin, dripping onto your chest. You tremble, you howl softly, but your little tail still twitches – because you know that's all you're there for: my personal urinal, my pissing bowl.

I move my hips, squirting in your face, in your eyes, in your nose—until you smell only of me, of my warm, salty load. "Look at me while you swallow. Show me how much you love my piss. Say it out loud: 'Thank you, Mistress, for pissing all over me.'"

You stammer it through the stream, gagging, coughing, swallowing some more—and I just laugh as the last gush runs down your forehead and drips into your eyes. "Good little pisshole. Now lick my nylons clean—every single drop you spilled. Tongue out, and woe betide you if you leave anything behind."

You lick desperately, tongue flat against my wet stockings, tasting piss, sweat, my arousal. "You're nothing but my toilet,"