Taylor Is A Human Urinal 3 (sample)

Summary: Taylor has been working as a urinal in Kenya for the last few months. She lives in the restroom of a café, where one of the stalls serves as her bedroom at night. She had always wanted to travel, but all she’s seen of Africa are giant cocks pissing down her throat and fucking her holes raw. Will she ever see home again?

Taylor never bothered to read the contracts she signed, but that has caught up with her. Thanks to signing a contract with a coffee shop, she’s been serving as a urinal to cover for the broken one for over a month! She also finds out that every one of her orifices, crevices, and every inch of her flesh is open for use by the managers, staff, and customers of the coffee shop, as they see fit. She can’t even get out of it by quitting, because the contract stipulates that she is still responsible for all “extraneous duties” if she quits, but without pay.

***

Taylor woke up as the first rays of dawn peeked in through the tiny window in the east wall of the men’s restroom. She hadn’t seen the outside from anywhere other than the bathroom windows since she’d arrived in Nairobi, Kenya. One of the stalls had been converted into a tiny bedroom for her, with a large pillow just big enough for her to sleep on, a bowl of water for her to drink from, and a bowl of small, round, brown food pellets for her to eat. They tasted terrible, but the label one of her managers had shown her made it clear that they were at least nutritious.

She pushed through the stall door into the main part of the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror above one of the sinks. Her long black locks of hair were gone, they shaved her head every week, which kept her looking cleaner than she felt. She spent her days barefoot and dressed in a super-short miniskirt that became little more than a belt when she knelt down on the floor and a small white t-shirt that said in bold black letters “Public Urinal” through which her almost always hard nipples on the ends of her perky little breasts could be easily seen.

She started her daily cleaning ritual, using a washcloth they left for her and some soap from the dispenser to scrub away the sweat and cum from her lithe body. After a few minutes of scrubbing, she looked into the mirror closely and sighed.

“Your a public urinal in a country where almost no one speaks English. You spend your days drinking piss and cum from giant black cocks unless one of them is pounding into your cunt or ass. You thought that degree from college was going to get you someplace? Well, you’re someplace,” she said to her reflection.

“Ah, you’re already awake! Fantastic! I’ve been holding this piss since I woke up,” Thomas, her manager, said.

She watched him from the mirror as he walked up behind her. Thomas was a tall, beautiful, black man. He was just little less than seven feet tall, kept his hair buzzed close to his scalp, and had muscles that seemed more like steel than flesh. He pulled his limp cock from his trousers, a cock which was as big limp as Coulter’s had been when it was hard, and spun Taylor around by one of her shoulders before gently pushing her to her knees.

Taylor took his thick cock between her lips and began to suck gently, waiting for him to piss. Within a few seconds, she felt the hot rush of his urine splash against her tongue and the back of her throat. She began to suck harder and deeper to make sure she drank every last drop. Soon, the stream slowed and then stopped. He pulled his now half-hard cock from her lips and shook the remaining drops of piss onto her face and hairless scalp.

“If I’d known American style urinals were like this, I would have had one transferred sooner,” he said.

He grabbed hold of her neck and pulled her up until she was standing on the tips of her toes, then spun her around and bent her over the sink, with her face smashed against the mirror and the faucet digging in between her small tits.

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