Mrs. O’Malley’s Golden Juices Ch. 14Mrs. O’Malley’s Golden Juices Ch. 14


(Please be advised that this is a very nasty story, with an older woman dominating a younger man, with scenes of golden showers, farting and creampie eating. Some like this genre, some don’t, but there you have the caveat before reading. Thank you)

Susan O’Malley was pissed.

She’d been puttering around the house, and had changed into her running clothes for a quick jog on this humid morning, and had darted upstairs to take a quick leak. After she did, she flushed the toilet. And nothing happened.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she groused to herself, lifting the top off the tank looking for what, she didn’t know.

Something was broken, she was sure of it, but she wasn’t a plumber. So she called one, a local guy in town whose name she’d seen on trucks.

“No, I have no idea what’s wrong, that’s why I’m calling,” she said, irritated, to the man who answered and sounded equally irritated.

“Can’t help you right now, lady,” the guy growled. “We’re pretty flat out. Maybe by 4 or 5 o’clock, I can send one of the new guys.”

“Fine, whatever works,” she snapped, slamming down the phone.

It was 2. She went for her run, working up a good sweat, leaving her body slick and soaked, just the way she liked it. For 65 years old, the slender granny was in great shape, her body sinewy and lean, her legs her best asset.

She got back around 3, and toyed with the idea of taking a shower, but didn’t want to miss the plumber coming in case he came early. So she waited, getting angrier by the minute, and taking the occasional piss in the broken toilet. Which after awhile imbued the humid air in the bathroom with a strong, heady scent of urine that combined with the thick stench of funky sweat from a pile of dirty clothes she’d left by the washing machine.

And that pleased her.

Susan O’Malley was a piss freak. She loved dominating young people, men and women, making them her piss slaves, forcing them to drink hers, lick her, service her. At first they’d resist – or pretend to. But it never lasted long and soon they’d be her submissive piss slaves.

She sniffed the air after her last piss, feeling her hairy pussy moisten. The aroma always got to her, and now as she sat on the bowl, letting the remnants of her golden juices dribble through her furry lips and tinkle into the yellow water below, she fingered herself, licking them, devouring the flavor and scent.

“Oh fuck…oh yeah….fuck yeah…,” she moaned, finger flying faster, lewd wet sounds echoing in the bowl as she drew close to finishing.

Then the doorbell rang.

“Motherfucker, you have GOT to be kidding me!” she snarled, pulling up her damp panties over her glistening bush and tugging her super short white running shorts back up her sturdy, tanned legs.

She stomped down stairs in her sweaty white mid-calf socks, storming to the door and drawing it open. There stood a man, a young man, a handsome young man with a shirt bearing the name of the plumbing company on one pocket and “Tommy” stitched on the other.

“Mrs…O’Malley?” he said in a squeaky boy voice looking at a paper in his hand, his dark hair hanging over his flashing brown eyes. “You called?”

“Yes indeed, I am Mrs. O’Malley, and I did call,” she said with a sultry growl. “And you must be…Tommy, from the looks of it. Here to fix my plumbing are ya, kid?”

“Um…yes ma’am, I uh…got here soon as I could, been a busy day…” he stammered nervously.

She liked young boys, especially nervous ones. They made the most compliant slaves. She waved him in and he trudged in behind her, big canvas workbag in his hand, brimming with tools and parts and other things she didn’t concern herself with.

“How old are you, Tommy?” she asked as they stood in the kitchen, Tommy looking away, anywhere but at the very sexy older woman standing before him in tight t-shirt, tiny white shorts and socks. “You’re kinda young to be a plumber aren’t you?”

“I’m 21 ma’am, learning all the time,” he said proudly. “Just about to open my own business.”

“Well that’s great, young man, just great!” she laughed, walking away and up the stairs, the boy in tow, she feeling his gaze on her shapely ass and muscular legs as she did. “And for now, you can work on my pipes!”

They walked into the bathroom and instantly Tommy stopped, wrinkling his nose. The scent was overwhelming, pungent and powerful. He eyed the dirty laundry on the floor, a mix of worn panties, stained yellow and brown, and socks of various colors from a week’s worth of working and running.

He let out a small, barely perceptible groan. But Susan heard it. And noticed the slight shiver that seemed to course through his tall, lean, muscular young body.

That pleased her.

She walked to the toilet, pointing.

“Here it is,” she said, adding with a giggle, “sorry about what’s in the bowl, I can’t flush it. Frightful smell, isn’t it? So sorry about that, hope you don’t mind…”

“I..we’ve uh, seen…and smelled worse, ma’am, believe me,” he said, his nervousness mounting, that uşak escort shiver returning as he gazed into the deep yellow water in the bowl, swallowing hard.

“Oh, I’m sure you have, young man, I’m sure you’ve had…and dealt with it, right?” she said in that sultry voice she’d greeted him with earlier.

“Yes..yes ma’am…” he said, now lifting the top off the tank and jiggling the workings inside.

She watched him, leaning on the bathroom counter, arms crossed, drinking the sight of him in, his ass tight in his work pants. She liked what she saw.

“Ah, here’s the problem,” he said, pointing to something that she really wasn’t looking at. “This little plastic piece that controls the flow…snapped off, happens all the time.”

“Is it terribly HARD to fix?” she cooed as she stepped closer to him, nearly brushing his slightly trembling body, emphasizing the word.

Tommy gulped again. He indeed was getting hard. He’d long been fascinated by sexy older women, and Mrs. O’Malley was by far the sexiest one he had ever seen, despite the aroma in the room. Or, he realized as his cock twitched in his pants, because of it.

“No…no, not at all…I have the part I need in the truck, be right back,” he said, walking past her, again casting a furtive eye on that disgusting but alluring pile of foul panties and socks.

“How long will it take?” she asked, following him out.

“Half hour, tops, ma’am,” he said.

“I’m thinking of going for a run…another run, actually, I had one already but cut it short to come wait for you,” she said. “Gotta keep this old lady body in shape ya know!”

He turned, a weak smile on his handsome young face, beads of sweat on his brow. Susan had him just where she wanted him. She smiled back.

“I don’t look bad for an old broad, do I?” she teased, spinning around and standing on tiptoes, making her remarkable calves bulge in muscle above her white socks.

That groan. She heard it again. And liked it.

“No, no ma’am, you look…you look great,” he said with a sighing enthusiasm. “Way better than my grandma, who’s about your age, I guess…”

“That’s so sweet of you, thanks, Tommy,” she giggled, cupping his chin playfully and tweaking his nose. “You get to work, I’ll be right back…but first, I gotta go again, you know, tinkle! Hope you don’t mind me adding to that nasty mess in the bowl!”

“ ma’am,” he groaned, heading for the truck.

She laughed to herself and walked upstairs. She didn’t have to piss. What she did have to do was pick up her cell phone, put it on video, and hide it on the bathroom counter, behind some makeup and pill bottles, angling it to take in the toilet – and the pile of laundry nearby.

“Like the spider and the fly,” she smiled to herself, walking out.

She went for her run, working it hard, getting sweatier by the pounding step, taking a half hour and turning back to her house. Inside, Tommy was standing at the kitchen counter, writing out her bill, his bag beside him.

“Everything working?” she asked, wiping her sweaty brow with her forearm.

“Yes, ma’am, it was easy,” he said, looking a bit more relaxed than before. “Just making out the bill. Did you want to pay by check, cash or have us bill you in the mail?”

“What’re the damages?” Susan asked.

“Not bad, I hope, $150,” he answered, handing her the bill.

“No, not bad at all,” she said. “Especially when they send a handsome young stud like you to fix my pipes!”

His nervousness returned, his smile forced and shy.

“Lemme get my purse, it’s upstairs,” she said, darting by him. “And gotta pee again in my newly fixed toilet!”

“Sure thing, Mrs. O’Malley, sure thing,” he called after her.

She went into the bathroom, picking up the hidden phone. She stopped the recording and hit play back.

And pay dirt.

There on the small screen, as she watched, her cunt getting wetter by the second, was this handsome young plumbing apprentice sniffing the bowl, kneeling, groaning, palming his hard cock through his pants, devouring her pissy scent.

“Oh my God, Mrs. O’Malley…you stink…your piss…fuck!” she heard him say, the words echoing in the bowl with his head inside, so close to it, making him wonder if he were licking away down there.

She fingered her pussy, slamming her hand under her shorts, frigging the sweaty, fragrant cunt as she now watched him shuffle over to the pile of clothes, burying his face in them, inhaling deeply. He fished his cock out and jerked. Her eyes widened. It was one of the biggest, meatiest cocks she had ever seen. And had to have.

“Fuck me,” she hissed, working herself into an orgasmic frenzy as Tommy was doing on her cell phone, a pair of rancid panties jammed to his face, his other hand flying up and down his cock, cumming in long thick ropes that landed on the pile, soaking her socks and panties.

He finished, carefully putting the pile together to hide the liquid evidence of his perverse lust. Then calmly, he returned to the bowl to van escort fix it.

“Mmmm, that was interesting,” she said, pulling her fingers from her cunt to sniff and lick clean.

She walked to the top of the stairs.

“Tommy, will you come up here please?” she called out. “Something I want to show you.”

“Sure thing, Mrs. O’Malley!” he said brightly, bounding up the stairs.

She walked into the bathroom, standing by the toilet, flushing it.

“Now that makes me happy!” she said.

She held up her phone.

“Now this,” she said, starting the video and walking to him, holding it to his face, “should THIS make me happy young man?”

Tommy’s mouth dropped open as the video played, face ashen, eyes were nearly bulging out of his head. Susan stood, phone in hand up to his face, the other arm crossed over her slender middle, affecting a stern look despite her urge to laugh.

“Oh my GOD!” he blurted, looking away, covering his eyes, leaning against the door frame, aghast and ashamed. “I’m….oh my God, I’m so sorry, so sorry….”

He was shaking, he was scared, he was totally humiliated. Just the way she liked it.

She stopped the play back, stepping closer toward him, a stern look on her pretty, sexily wrinkled face.

“I wonder,” she said darkly and dominantly. “What your boss would say if he saw this?”

Tommy stood up straight, more frightened than ever, his eyes on her, begging.

“Oh God…please, please, Mrs. O’Malley, please don’t…” he cried. “He’d fire me…I’d be ruined….”

“Yeah, that would pretty much fuck up your plans to start your own business now wouldn’t it, if word got out?” she asked dryly. “Who’d want a piss-loving pervert in their house, right?”

“Please!” he cried again. “I’ll do…anything…what do you….anything, just don’t tell him, or anyone, my God, my God!”

He slumped against the wall, head in his hands, practically sobbing.

“Did you like it?”

He looked through his fingers.


“I said, did you like it?” Susan continued, her voice softening, a bit more playful, walking back toward the bowl, his eyes drawn to those legs again.

“I….no…I mean…I….”

“Oh, come now, Thomas,” she growled. “You MUST have liked it! You were smelling my piss…practically licking it! And my filthy socks and soiled panties, in your face, jerking your…well, your rather beautiful young COCK, cumming into them!”

He watched, transfixed, as she slithered out of her shorts, peeling off her top and bra, standing now in white panties and socks.

“Did. You. Like. It,” she snarled.

He could only stare. And very slowly nod his head.

“I thought so,” Susan sighed. “Well then, I think we can work something out, keep this unfortunate incident between us…”

She slowly, very slowly looked down at her crotch as she stood, Tommy’s eyes following, thick curls of pubic hair blossoming out the sides of the panty.

And she pissed. She stood, pissing just a little bit, biting her lip as she did, moving her eyes back up to watch him watch her pissing her panties. The heat of it filled her senses, a big dark patch spreading over the front of the fabric, a thin, hot, wet blanket sheeting down her slightly saggy and wrinkled and sexy brown thighs, trickling over her knees to her sweat socks that clung to her solid calves.

“Oh….my….God….” Tommy gasped.

She slowly peeled her panties down, sitting on the bowl, finishing her piss – and watching him. He was holding his breath, staring and listening to the gush of it and the loud tinkling sound of piss hitting water, then waning into singular, tantalizing droplets.

She stood, pubic hair soaked with urine and sweat. And slowly pulled her panties back up, over the matted, glistening fur.

“C’mere boy,” she snarled, curling a finger at him.

Tommy could not help but obey. Susan leaned on the bathroom counter, spreading her meaty legs. Tommy stood, unsure of what to do. She pointed to the floor.

“Kneel down, boy,” she hissed. “And suck my pissy panties!”

He blinked at her, eyes wide with fear, terror, uncertainty and want. She made his decision easy, cupping his head in her hands and pulling him to his knees, ramming his face into her crotch and slamming her muscular old thighs shut on his ears. She locked him firmly to her dripping, pungent panty-covered cunt.

“For fuck’s sake, boy, SUCK the piss outta my panties!” she snarled, throbbing her lean legs on his trapped head.

“MMGHLPFF!” he cried out, a scream muffled in her wet crotch.

But he sucked, he sucked hard, his mouth open, lips wide, tongue darting over the moist fabric as he sucked the wet from it. His eyes rolled over white in the sockets, Susan smiling at his complete, groaning acquiescence, now quivering her thighs on his head, pushing forward, holding it, grinding his face.

“Mmmm, that’s right, boy, suck my piss…suck it alllll up….” she cooed.

He obeyed, filling his mouth with her golden juices yalova escort sucked from the soaked panty, devouring her, feeling his cock about to burst in his pants. His hands trembled as he pawed the thighs crushing his skull, marveling at their silky, seductive feel and the muscular tension beneath the skin. He groaned, madly sucking, licking, cleaning her foul panties, aching for release.

“I’d say you like my piss, boy,” she growled, suddenly unlocking her lethal thighs and twisting his head toward the toilet, sticking his face in the bowl and the glistening gold below. “Let’s see HOW much!”

He resisted, and she welcomed it, she liked her piss victims to struggle. He was not entirely sure he could lap the foul-smelling water that had gushed moments earlier into the bowl, a sound he found supremely sexy. Now that ripeness hit him, far sharper than that in her wet panties, and he pushed back as she pushed his head in.

“I said LICK that piss!” she howled, now kneeling on his bent back, driving him inside.

His face plunged into the still warm piss, up to the ears, and despite his struggles, he could not pull away. Susan knelt on one leg, bending her other up to push the back of his head with her socked foot, laughing maniacally as she finally heard his desperate gulps, ingesting mouthfuls of her stinky urine. She made him drink for a full 30 seconds before releasing him. He sprang back, gasping, Susan standing and roaring with laughter.

He sat back on his haunches, grabbing a nearby towel and frantically wiping his face. And there in his pants, Susan loved noticing, was the bulge of his unmistakably hard cock. She nudged it with her socked foot.

“Well, well, well, you DO like it!” she laughed. “Tell me boy, and don’t lie or I’ll know: Have you ever indulged this piss fantasy before?”

His panting slowed, his face looking down at the foot on his cock.

“No,” he said softly, shaking his head, the wet strands of hair in his face. “Never.”

“But you’d thought about it, right?” she continued.

A pause. Then a slow nod of his head. She smiled.

“And how’s the reality working for you now that you’ve had the real thing?”

“I…I don’t know…it’s…different…I’m not sure….if I really DO like it!”

“Well now,” she sighed, grabbing his hair and forcing him on his knees to shuffle over to the pile of filthy laundry and ramming his face into it. “All the better!”

He fought back again, the stench overpowering him, that heady mix of piss and ass and sweat – and, he realized with horror, his own cum. She was too strong, though, his mind and body weakened from everything happening to him, and he couldn’t pull his face from the foul-smelling clothes.

“I need to do laundry,” she said. “And I’ve just the thing!”

She straddled his neck now, pulling his hair up so the back of his head nestled against her wet cunt. Crossing her feet, she clamped her thighs on his neck and squeezed. He let out a long, desperate groan of pain, the pressure surprising him. He was stunned that a woman so old could exert so much power with what looked to be fairly skinny legs.

“Now let’s see,” she sighed, bending over, the inner thigh muscles stretching and flexing against his neck, slowing the blood to his brain, making him groggy. “Where is it….”

She pulled out a particularly soggy, foul pair of panties and stood, holding them to her nose.

“Yup, these are the ones,” she laughed. “The ones you came in. The ones we’ll start with!”

Tommy could only watch as the sticky panties came before his face, his hands drooping to the floor, weak from her squeezing thighs on his neck. She balled the fabric up, showing him the crusty crotch panel, opening his mouth and forcing it inside. The stench hit him like a hammer, cum, piss, ass, sweat, permeating his existence, the taste thick and foul on his tongue.

“Clean ’em, boy,” she snarled.

She stuffed her fingers into his mouth along with the cum-soaked panty, scraping it around on his tongue, lips, teeth and cheeks, scrubbing it clean. A moment later, she tugged it out and Timmy gasped for air, struggling to pull his head from the vise-grip legs scissoring it, and failing.

“Nice job,” she sighed, dropping the panty, bending and picking up a pair of short, black trouser socks. “Oh, these are nasty, wore them to work for about four days before I changed ’em!”

In they went, stuffed into his moaning mouth for cleaning, Susan scrubbing them around inside and pulling them out, repeating the process over and over with other socks, other panties. She kept him in her gripping legs for a solid half hour as she plunged her foul clothes in and out of his mouth.

When she was finished, he was practically out cold, groggy from her scissoring thighs and the sheer humiliation of what she’d put him through. His hands limply pawed her locked, socked feet.

“Plea….pleesh…no more, Mrs. O’M…..” he said in slurring tone, barely able to stay awake.

She laughed, finally releasing her crushing thighs from his neck, and stepped back letting him fall to the floor. She stepped over him and reached inside the shower, turning it on, then peeled off her panties and socks. Flipping him to his back, she straddled him, balled them up and stuffed them into his mouth.

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