May old Acquaintants be forgot.

 I was given a request for a cuckolding story. One with some role reversal, maybe the boss being the center of a gang bang, or at least being used by a group of people. With lots of toilet play. (so be prepared for that).

So I thought it would be nice to have a party at New Years, one with... interesting activities.

I think the title is funny. But that might just be me. You'll see why.

Enjoy.

Using the Bathroom


Could we blame the egg nog? Yes, it was spiked. Everyone knew that. They'd known going in. Everyone knew that Chet was going to spike it. And everyone knew that Marcia was going to spike it. It came as a little bit of a surprise when Elliot spiked it too. But it was Christmas. Who cares? They got drunk. Secrets came out. Stories got told.

Most people didn't remember things the next day. But some of them did. Some of them were able to piece together the things they discussed, the secret desires. And they started talking.

It took Marcia almost a week to set it all up. A week of secret e-mails, a week of everyone wondering if it was really going to happen. Were we really going to go through with it? Was the boss -was I- really going to do it?

They all agreed, for the New Year's party, that what happened there would stay there. They weren't employees, they weren't coworkers. And I wasn't the boss.

No. Tonight, I'm not the boss. I'm not the hard ass driving them. Tonight, it might be the other way around.

Marcia let me wear a hood. Everyone knows it's me, but I can at least pretend. I can hide behind the spandex hood. They won't know if I'm looking at them or not. They won't know if my eyes are open. And they won't be able to take pictures. There won't be a way to prove that it's me if they do.

That is the only concession, though. I agreed to the rest. I agreed to be here, on my knees, with my cock in a cage, waiting for them to get here.

It feels like hours waiting by the front door. It feels like even longer as people start arriving, making little comments about how they couldn't believe it, about how pathetic he looked. About how, for once, they were glad to see his mouth, all empty and inviting.

My hands are behind my back. I feel as they start to write on me. At first, they're just signing their names. But it doesn't take long before they get more creative.

“Is cum guzzler spelled with one z or two?” I close my eyes and don't look at who says it, but I feel them write it.

“Write toilet on his chest.”

Then a hand pushes my head to the floor, and I feel what they write on my back. It says 'Fuck Me' in big letters. And an arrow pointing down at my ass.

They let me sit back up and keep writing, laughing as they do. I keep my eyes closed.

“I wish we could write on his face.”

More laughter. “I don't. I'm glad we can't see it. Besides, there's a lot more I intend to do to it than just write on it.”

I know Marcia's walk, and hear the clicking of her heels. I open my eyes and watch as my wife unzips my employee's pants. No, that's not right. My mistress, my owner, opens up her boyfriend's pants and pulls out her boyfriend's cock.

She looks down at me with a smirk while she rubs up and down Chet's cock. He moans. She laughs at me.

“Look at this,” she says, holding his cock in his hand. “It's so much bigger than yours. This one can do its job. It can make me happy. It can give me an orgasm. A real man's cock can do that.” She takes her hand, the one that was just around his cock, and touches my face, making sure to press under my nose so I can smell his musk. “It's okay,” she says. “You make a lot of money. I don't need you to do everything. I can find a real man to satisfy me. In fact, that's exactly what I did.”

“Don't worry,” Chet says. “I've got practice. I've been doing this for a long time.”

“Don't hog all the fun,” Elliot's voice comes from behind me. “I thought we were having a party.”

“We're waiting for my wife,” Chet says. “She's in the other room guzzling water.”

“She's going to have to use the bathroom.”

Marcia chuckles. “I think we all are,” she says. Then she tapped me on the head. “Come on bathroom,” she said. “Follow me.”

I crawl after her, and I hear them laugh that I responded to that name.

She doesn't let up. “Okay, bathroom,” she says as we slide onto the porcelain of our actual bathroom. “You know the rules. Tell everyone the rules.”

“The bathroom is for guest use,” I say. “Guests can do whatever they want in the bathroom. No questions asked. Guests are just asked to clean up after themselves.”

The laughter after that is a big dark, a bit evil. But I don't have time to think about it. I don't have time to say much of anything. As soon as my mouth opens up, a cock slides into it. And Marcia was right. It's huge. Way bigger than mine. He pumps his way up and down my throat.

“I can't believe you're sucking on my husband's cock.” I know Sheryl. I've always thought she was attractive. “Isn't it enough that he uses it to fuck your wife? Now you've got to let him fuck you too?”

“It's disgusting, isn't it?” Marcia says.

“Pathetic.” Sheryl agrees.

“He does have a nice cock, though. Your husband I mean.”

Chet keeps fucking my mouth.

Sheryl laughs. “Yeah. That's why I lend it to you. But this.” She slaps the top of my head. “This is horrid. Filthy. Unsanitary.”

“Maybe you should do something about that,” Chet says between groans.

“Maybe I will.” There's a ruffling of clothing, and then she starts pissing on my face. I can feel the urine soaking my hood, flowing over my face and over my lips. I taste a little bit of it around Chet's cock. She keeps pissing, draining down my face, down my chest. Maybe it'll obscure some of the writing. That's got to be at least a little bit of a silver lining.

Chet cums down my throat, then pulls out and steps away. The smell of urine is still soaked into my mask.


Then Sheryl presses her crotch to my face. “Come on,” she says. “I'm all dirty. Be a good little bathroom and provide me with toilet paper.”



Read the rest in Book Two