Mel Takes My Manhood Pt. 02

"Alright, bar's closed you drunk. Don't have to go home but you can't stay here." He leered at me with amused contempt.

I stood up from the bed uneasily, stumbling. Mel caught me, laughing in my face at how drunk I was. I had the spins, maybe the first time since college.

"Christ Peteyboy you really are a lightweight, aren't you. You need to learn to control your drinking!" He slapped my bare ass as I wobbled towards my clothes.

He hounded me as I lurched drunkenly, spanking my ass, and sniffing theatrically around my neck.

"Peeeeyoooo! You reek of whiskey, Petey! Whiskey and cum!" He opened his door, and grabbed my shoes, socks, underwear and pants from the floor, tossing them out in the hall. Just like last time, he kicked my bare ass out through his doorway. I fell on my face, groaning.

"Get dressed and get the fuck out of here. But I don't think you need your shirt and jacket on such a nice warm night! I'll hold on to it for you." As I struggled to stand, I saw him shake my suit jacket, dress shirt and tie in his hand. He was forcing me to walk home bare chested, after mauling my pectorals and back with his mouth.

"Good luck getting home, you goddamn drunk!" He roared, laughing, then slammed the door in my face.

I sat for a few moments, my bare butt cheeks feeling strange against the linoleum floor of the hallway. I caught my breath and tried to make the room stop spinning. Slowly I pulled on both socks, then laid flat out to get my pants on. I remained on the floor, trying to tie my shoes.

Finally I stood, balancing my forehead against the wall as the hallway spun like a funhouse. I checked my pockets about a hundred times to confirm that the bastard had let me keep my keys. I then slowly clomped down the stairs, hugging the wall.

The warm air of the summer evening caressed my bare skin as I walked out on his street. I could see in the reflection of cars and storefronts that I was a mess- bare-chested, hickeys ringing my neck, bright red bite marks around my nipples, and two loads of semen all over me- mine caking my crotch and exposed belly, his seeping out from between my legs, staining through the seat of my trousers.

The small street outside of Mel's apartment was empty, but I knew to make it home I had to cross several broadways, crowded with people out enjoying the late summer sun and warm air. I tried to think of detours down quieter roads, but my brain was too scrambled. When I turned a corner I passed a middle aged man. His eyes bugged out of his head and a broad smile stretched across his face. I put my arms over my chest possessively and sped up, stumbling slightly, hearing his raspy laughter chasing me down the street.

Down the next street I passed two guys around my age smoking. They eyed me with disbelief then burst into laughter of their own. One whipped out his phone and took a picture of me. I was a spectacle. Another old man passed me, shaking his head in disapproval and disgust.

Apart from public opprobrium due to my plainly debased state, I had another problem. Mel had forced me drink almost an entire liter of whiskey, a bladder full of his piss, plus I had drank water before coming to his apartment and not had a chance to relieve myself. With each step I took I began to feel a building pressure in my bladder.

I was sobering up just a bit but I was still visibly wasted, and I couldn't use a store or restaurant's bathroom while shirtless and reeking of spooge and booze. My bladder pulsed painfully in my abdomen, its alarm call that I was about to wet myself. I had at least 20 minutes more of my walk home - I wasn't going to make it, not when I was still struggling to walk in a straight line.

Finally on a quiet street I ducked into an alley. I tried to fish out my penis, which had shrunken from how badly I need to pee. My fumbling fingers struggled to get it through my zipper, and in frustration I opened my belt and let my trousers and underwear fall to my ankles as I leaned my head against the side of the building, my little dickhead in my hand. I felt the summer air on my naked backside and my bare legs, but I was hopefully far enough in the alley that no one from the street could see me. Pissing with my bare naked ass out, in an alley like a drunk.

I sighed in pleasure as I unleashed my stream against the wall. I was astounded by the size of the spreading puddle at my feet. Just then I heard the hinges of a door whine open.

"Hey! The fuck you doing back here!" Someone barked in an Eastern European accent. A swarthy, bald man in his fifties approached me, his eyes wide with outrage. An apron stretched over his big beer belly, which shook as he walked. He had a huge black mustache that obscured most of his face and he was chomping on a cigar. I halted my piss mid-stream, and in a moment he was on me, one of his thick, hairy arms spinning my shoulder around so that my bare shoulders were pinned against the wall and I was facing him with my dick out. I tried to cover my nudity but he smacked my hands away.

He looked me up and down. His face was furious but he looked confused too, and just a bit amused by the whole situation. He didn't know what to make of me- I didn't like the typical derelict drunk he probably was used to shooing away from this alley.

"What kind of pervert shit is this? He pointed at the bite marks and hickeys around my chest, then flicked one of my nipples. I held myself against the wall, paralyzed.

"You some kind of faggot, huh?!" He demanded, barking at me, making me flinch. I tried to reach for my trousers at my ankles. His big hand came down across the side of my head like a thunderclap, and in my drunken state it knocked me onto the ground. I fell down on to my side, propped against the wall.

"Get the fuck down there, you little pig!" He kicked me sharply in the stomach, knocking the wind out of me. Then he laughed as I watched his fingers go to his crotch, shifting his apron aside.

"You piss on my fucking building? I piss on you, you disgusting little-prick faggot." The big hairy man smirked at me cockily as he unfurled an enormous, uncut cock from his fly. I couldn't tell if it was as big as Mel's but it clearly dwarfed mine, which was not lost on him either. He muttered something in his language which made him crack up. He pulled back his foreskin and his urethra winked at me once before letting loose with his spray.

He started at my crotch, dousing my shrunken penis and testes with his piss. Then he traced my legs down to where my ankles were tangled with my pants and underwear, being sure to thoroughly soak my clothes. He even pissed on my socks and my dress shoes. Next he sent his stream up my belly, to my chest, neck, face and hair. After washing my hair with his piss, he aimed directly for my eyes, blinding me. It was sickeningly warm on my skin and smelled horrible.

"Idiot fucking little-prick faggot. This is what you deserve." He chuckled as he drenched me in his piss. I just laid there pathetically, eyes closed, letting him douse me.

"Open your mouth. Swallow! Drink! " He ordered, forcing me to drink his pungent stream, which just kept coming and coming. He unloaded down my throat straight into my stomach, laughing wildly. Whatever I couldn't collect in my mouth spilled out onto my face. Between Mel's piss, all the whiskey and now a bellyful of this man's piss, I felt truly nauseous.

Finally done, he shook his cock at me, spraying the last few drops at my face before tucking it away. He then squatted down over me, his hands searching my pants at my feet. Finding my wallet, he held it in my face as he claimed $100 cash. He winked at me as he folded the bills and shoved them in his pocket, then threw my ransacked wallet at my face. He kicked me one more time in the gut and left me in the puddle of our urine.

I laid there for a moment, not sure if I needed to throw up. Eventually I brought my self to my feet, and pulled my soaking wet underwear and pants back up over me. It reminded me of wearing a wet bathing suit as a kid. Only this one reeked of piss.

My detour in the alley had the one benefit that it was finally dark out, though the streets were still crowded. I just lowered my head, stumbling home, ignoring the jeers and laughter of men that seemed to follow me at every turn.

Once home, I stripped out of my ruined clothes at my doorway then I emailed my boss saying that I was coming down with something and anticipated not being able to make it in tomorrow. In truth what I anticipated was a monster hangover. I began drinking as much water as possible and pulled myself into the shower. I let the water wash over me, leaning my head against the shower wall, filling my bathroom with steam. Finally I dried off, drank more water, and collapsed in my bed.

The next day I slept in. When I finally roused after 10am, my stomach dropped when I saw a text message from Mel.