Homecoming

The following story is a work of fiction based on some sexting I did with a very close friend.

It was early evening by the time her flight landed. I was waiting at the airport, just liked she'd asked. It'd only been a week, but it felt much longer. I was happy to see her when she emerged from the crush of people. I expected a warm embrace, but she brushed past me.

“I missed you,” I said, scrambling to keep up.

“I need to find a restroom,” she said. “The flight took forever.”

“It's right over here,” I said, but she walked past the ladies' room. As she approached the men's room she tucked her blonde hair into her baseball cap. Wearing a T-shirt and jeans I had to admit she could pass for a boy. Well, pass enough in a crowded restroom where no one was going to stare at you. I followed her in.

The restroom was full of men who'd just gotten off flights, all relieving themselves. And it smelled like it. I followed her down the long row of stalls when she turned and pushed me into one, shutting the door behind us. I felt nervous, what did she have planned? Would others see? The walls and door of the stall stopped an inch or two above the floor, so it'd be difficult for the men to know there were two of us in here, but not impossible.

She faced me, pulling off her cap and then her T-shirt. I stared at the cotton bra holding her small tits as she raised her arms over her head. “I didn't put on deodorant today, and I'm really stinky.” She pulled my face to her underarm and I breathed in deeply. “Lick me clean.”

I stuck my tongue out and tasted her sweat. With long, slow licks I cleaned the salt off her skin, her razor stubble tickling my tongue. Slowly, I cleaned one underarm and then the other. “You love how dirty I am, don't you.”

To my shame I had to agree. I could feel my cock straining in my pants as I lapped at her underarms. How could something so dirty make me feel so excited?

“Well you're a lucky bitch, because my feet are dirty too.” She was wearing slip-on sandals, her toes painted pink. But even standing I could see her feet were dirty. “I was walking around barefoot in the terminal. You want to lick them clean, don't you.”

I shook my head. “No, please, that's so nasty.”

“But it turns you on to be nasty.”

“Yes,” I whimpered, “but I shouldn't. They're so dirty.”

She pushed me down and I squatted in front of her. She slipped her right foot out of her sandal and lifted it to my face. “I walked barefoot on the sidewalk too. I know you want to lick off all that grime.”

“Please don't make me.”

“But you want to,” she said, rubbing her toes on my lips. “Just open your mouth and be my dirty bitch.”

I hated myself for wanting something so disgusting, but I couldn't resist. I looked up at her and opened my mouth.

She smiled down at me and pushed her foot in. “What a good little bitch you are.”

I sucked her big toe, feeling the grit on my tongue. “I walked around barefoot on the plane too,” she said. I moved my mouth down to her other toes, gently sucking each one. “I slipped them off in the ladies' room in the terminal before we took off. The floor was wet.” I licked the sides of her foot, taking the dirt into my mouth. “I took them off in the cab on the way to the airport. The floor of the cab was sticky.”

She pointed her toes straight up, presenting her sole to my mouth.“God knows what's on my feet.” I lapped at the underside of her foot, licking off the salt and grime.

She put her left foot back in her sandal and presented her right foot to me. “I wouldn't be surprised if it made you sick.” I licked. “But you love being dirty for me, don't you.” I felt a hot flash of shame spread over me as I admitted to her how much it turned me on.

When I was finished she slipped her foot back into her sandal and leaned down to cup my face in her hand. “Now I really need to piss. You'll be my toilet bitch, won't you.”

I stared at her, unable to answer.

“Lay down on the floor and open your mouth for me.”

I started to tremble. “It's really dirty.”

“It's wet and stinky, isn't it. It probably hasn't been cleaned in days. It looks like most of the guys miss the toilet when they piss.”

“I'll get wet.”

“Yes, you will. But you can decide if you want to lay down with your clothes on, or naked.”

I stared at the floor. “Why would I lay down naked?”

“So you'll have dry clothes to put on when you're done.”

“But I'll get really wet.”

“You'll get wet either way. But if you lay down naked, then your clothes won't be dripping and smelling like a sewer when you walk back through the airport.”

I swallowed hard and pulled off my shirt. “What a good toilet bitch you are.” She took my shirt and watched as I slid down my pants. “Shoes and socks too.”

“You want my feet to touch this?”

“You need to be completely naked, fully exposed. And believe me, your naked feet on this floor will be the least of your worries once you’re laying on your back down there.”

I slipped off my shoes and socks and stepped onto the floor. Then I slid off my pants and underpants. I couldn't believe I was doing this. What was wrong with me? Why would anyone willingly get naked and lay on a floor in an airport mens' room? I felt like I was outside myself, watching what I was doing as I slowly laid down on the floor.

I felt the cold, wet tile on my ass and upper back. I felt the wetness of the floor, all that stale piss, on me now. I swallowed hard, feeling dirtier than I ever had in my life. And I had done it willingly.

She hung my clothes on the hook on the back of the door, slipped off her pants and panties and hung them up as well. I stared up from the floor as she stepped over me. “Are you going to be my good little toilet bitch?”

“Yes.”

“Then get your head down on the floor too.” She pushed my head and I lowered it to the floor. My hair on the tiles now, soaking up the dirty water, my head just inches from the toilet. “You are really disgusting down there. How can you just lay there like that?”

“I don't know. I hate it.”

“But you can't resist, can you.”

“No,” I whimpered.

She squatted down, lowering herself over my face. “I really need a shower, don't I.”

I could smell her pussy and ass. “Yes.”

She reached back and spread her cheeks. “Clean my ass.”

Part of me wanted to leave. Get my clothes on, get to a shower, clean up, and forget this madness had ever happened. Instead I stuck my tongue out.

She hadn't lied about needing a shower. She tasted dark, earthy, forbidden. I lapped it all up, no longer caring. No longer able to stop. Any dignity I had was gone. I pushed my tongue into her delicious body.

She moaned softly. Outside the stall I could hear people talking, trying to catch flights, trying to get home. All of them washing their hands, trying to be clean, and here I was trying to be dirty.

She pulled away. “I can't hold it any longer, are you ready, toilet bitch?”

I could no longer speak, I simply opened my mouth.

“Don't spill a drop.”

I watched as her pussy lips quivered, parted a bit, and released her piss. At first just a couple drops but then a stream. It hit my forehead and I adjusted, trying to get it into my mouth. Trying to be her perfect toilet bitch.

My mouth quickly filled but she didn't stop. I had no choice, I closed my mouth to swallow. In that short time her piss hit my lips and cascaded down my chin, over my neck, onto the floor. “Do better bitch, you're missing.”

I opened my mouth and swallowed more. It went on for a while, her piss filling my mouth and me swallowing it, over and over. The taste of her in my mouth, in my body. And I wanted more. I wanted all that she had.

I thought I might drown but her steam finally lessened and then stopped. Just a drop or two fell now.

She slid her hand between her legs and began to rub herself. “What a good little toilet you are. You drank a lot more than I thought you would. That was pretty disgusting, wasn't it.”

“Yes,” I said, still not believing I'd actually done it.

“You did such a good job as my personal toilet bitch, I have a special treat for you.” She sucked on a couple of fingers to get them wet, then returned them to her pussy. “I met this guy on the plane. Well, he picked me up. He was very assertive, sure of himself. Not like you at all.”

She was rubbing faster now, her pussy lips swelling in excitement. “You're so insecure, and that's cute and all, but sometimes I need to be taken by a real man.” She pushed her fingers in, fucking herself. When she pulled them out they were covered in thick, white cream. “And that's what he did. Took me, right in the plane. I let him cum in me. God he came so hard. I didn't think he'd stop. Can you see all the cum he pumped into me?”

She spread herself open and I watched cum drip out. She slid a finger back into herself and pushed the cum out, letting it drip off her fingers and into my mouth. “Isn't that a nice treat for my little toilet bitch?” She pushed her fingers back inside and got more, dripping it onto my tongue.

I held the cum in my mouth, tasting it, tasting her juices mixed in with it. Then I swallowed it all.

She started rubbing herself again. “Did you pick up any girls why I was gone? Fuck anyone new?”

“No.”

“You're much too shy. I got fucked about every night.” She was rubbing faster now, her fingers a blur on her clit. I continued to swallow as more cum dripped out of her.

She started breathing faster, her body tensing. “I got fucked by my boss, of course. And then guys I met at the hotel bar. Hard to say how many different guys' cum you’re eating right now. But you love that, don't you?”

I nodded, my mouth open to catch any cum that dripped from her as her orgasm built. And then she was cumming. Her body shaking all over. Her pussy contracting, pushing out cum and juices. I kept my mouth open, trying to catch it all.

And then she was done. She stood, pulled on her panties, her pants, her shirt. I lay on the floor, naked, looking up at her. “My pathetic little toilet bitch.” She took my clothes from the hook and dropped them on the floor. She pushed them around with her foot so they soaked up the piss I'd missed, and anything else on the dirty tile.

Then she tucked her hair back under her cap and left, leaving me laying next to my wet clothes, alone on the floor of the men's room stall.