Squirt Club

I start licking the voluptuous Anusha's clit. She comes and releases a torrent of her fluid into my mouth. I am rock hard as I'm drinking from her sacred fountain. I start to feel a gush hit the side of my head, and another the back of my head. My whole face and hair are becoming drenched.

As Anusha's flow stops I turn just in time to see Deepa rubbing her clit and then erupting. Her stream hits me in the face, so she grabs the back of my head and pushes it between her legs so her stream goes into my mouth, instead. I drink. As I'm swallowing her in gulps I hear one of the women say, "Fuck yeah! Drink all of that fucking squirt!"

I don't know that woman's name, but a moment later she is beckoning me over to where she is sitting and guides me onto the floor beneath the couch. I'm laying on my back as she finger fucks herself and then begins to gush from her brown, trimmed pussy. I drink her and notice her squirt has some flavors and smell I don't like. The rule, though, is if I spit or refuse, or even avoid any squirt, the squirt bukkake ends. The first rule of Squirt Club is no spitting.

These are women who have spent their entire adult lives gushing for men who are disgusted by it. Men who spit them out, who tell them it's gross, or tell them it's just pee. They are voracious for the experience of fulfilling years and years of pent up desire to see their fluids drunk. They desperately need to see someone treat their pussies like a man dying of thirst treats an oasis.

As I'm dutifully forcing myself to keep my mouth open and allow this woman to empty herself into it as I choke down her splattering gushes, I become aware of Divya moving into position over me. She is straddling my chest and leaning her hands on the couch in front of her as she starts to gush onto my stomach. Divya is very dark skinned. So dark that it's hard to even see her pussy in the shadow created by her thighs and stomach. Her breasts hang heavy as she looks down at me expectantly as her stream slows to a mere trickle.

I'm conflicted on how to please both women, but the woman on the couch seems to be finishing, so I scoot down slightly to get my head under Divya's cunt. As I do she lets go and her stream becomes a strong gush as it pours into my mouth. I swallow over and over as it keeps coming and filling my mouth again and again.

"Gargle her pussy juice!" shouts a woman I can't see.

I gargle the fluid in my mouth. The motion forces the slight scent of ozone into my nose and I have the urge to spit it out. But, no. This cannot end. If I choke her down, I will become these women's sexual savior. They will want me to drink them again and again in the future. Can I do it?

Her orgasmic flow is still happening. It's filling up my mouth again. I have to make a choice. I shut my mouth for a moment, the squirt still pouring out of the curvaceous, dark woman above me and onto my face. I forcefully swallow all that is in my mouth. I will myself to open my mouth again, and let her stream flow in again. Drinking. Drinking. The sound of moans all around me as the other women are watching as they masturbate. Drinking. Drinking. Wondering how much she could have inside of her? Remembering that women's bodies can fill up over and over, repeatedly, and rapidly, with squirt, so long as they are turned on.

All the other women are making themselves come, keeping themselves full of pussy nectar. They are drinking bottles of water. This is not going to end soon.

"Come here! I'm going to come in your mouth!" shouts Amrita.

I lean up and give Divya's dark pussy a strong lick from bottom to top. Her natural lubricants slide across my tongue. I end at her squirt hole, lapping at it while it pours the last of her offering into my mouth. Divya moans as I lance my tongue as deep into her as I can once before pulling out and knee walking over to Amrita.

The individual scent of each woman's squirt is extremely mild, or non existent. But all added together, and drenching my hair and being all over my body is starting to add up. I need to get some other smell into my mouth and nose, so I jam my face into Amrita's pussy as she stands in front of me. One of my hands on each of her wide, sloping hips, I push my tongue between her folds. The taste of her pussy, that sour, savory flavor, and the smell of her, a rich, creamy smell, is like a breath of fresh air, washing away the intense scent all over me.

I push my tongue deeper inside of her, relishing in this haven, this vacation from squirt. She moans as I tongue fuck her, and then move and open my mouth wide to envelop her clit and labia in my mouth. She yelps, and my vacation is over. Shuddering hips, and buckling knees are telling me I'm being called back to work. Her juice starts to flow into my mouth. My mouth is full, and she pushes my head back. She's done. Good. But then I see that her pussy is still trickling. She just wants to see her nectar, the amrita of Amrita, flow directly out of her furry pussy and into my mouth.

She angles herself slightly and then the stream increases tenfold in strength. It splatters my face. Amrita's squirt has a musky odor. Under normal conditions it would be pleasant and exciting, but I'm overwhelmed, so I can barely even handle it. Still, if I don't let her do this, the bukkake ends. If it ends I will be miserable again and unable to work or even cope with life.

Amrita whines in ecstasy as she grabs the back of my head and adjusts her stance slightly. I can tell she wants to gush into my mouth, now. I take a gamble. I'm thinking, maybe changing which sense is being overstimulated will alleviate my overstimulated senses. I gulp down the mouthful of her already making my cheeks puff out due to the volume, and then open wide and focus on her juices flowing over my tongue as I drink. Her squirt tastes earthy, and does help me focus, and feel less overwhelmed.

These women are here because of my friend Frank. He set all this up. I was going to support groups for sex addicts because I was so depressed that I couldn't live my life any longer, and the therapy helped. I'm not a sex addict. I went to the first meeting by mistake. Wandered into the wrong room when looking for a depression support group. I kept going because I just like the meditation and talk therapy, and it being about a problem I didn't have made it a beautiful Zen middle road between talking about my horrible, miserable thoughts, and doing nothing. Then I meet Frank at a party of a mutual friend, and he and I become best buds. It turns out he is friends with one of the women in one of the groups named Disha. Then he tells me about her: she's not a sex addict, either. She is just there for company. She is desperate because sex always, always ends with her feeling embarrassed about her orgasmic fluids. She has friends who are the same as her. She told them about me. Then she told Frank. Frank told me. One night I spent several hours drinking Disha, and she was so relieved and happy with how this made her feel that she told her friends. I felt pretty good after drinking her, better even than group therapy had made me feel, so, now, here I am, amateur squirt therapist hosting my first group session. This is infinitely better than support groups. I need this.

Amrita finishes with me and another woman, who I can't remember the name of, walks forward, rubs her clit, and starts gushing. I am desperate to keep experiencing the tactile sensation of squirt hitting my tongue, and to taste the watery flavor of these women, so the smell doesn't overwhelm me again. For a second I am amused at how absurd it is that the smell normally would be alluring and wonderful, but too much of it, and too long is too strong.

I remind myself that it doesn't smell bad, it's just too much of a good thing. Like dessert can be sickeningly sweet when you've had too much of it. I lean in and lick the woman's pussy as she empties herself into my mouth. Her bush is thick. So thick I can't see her pussy through it. Her stream stops and she presses my face into her bush and I'm gone. Darkness. Wet darkness. A mossy cave. Musty, with damp walls, and a secret hole that starts to gush water into my mouth. I'm drinking from the spring that opened in the wall. I hear distant moaning, back in the real world. Some woman, somewhere, is having the strongest orgasm of her life. And then something horrible happens: I come.

Light returns. The spring trickles down my chin as the woman steps back and I'm back in the living room again. The squirt drips from her bush. She rubs her fingers back and forth rapidly over her pussy as another blast erupts from her core. It splatter all over her legs, my face, and all into her bush.

She stops squirting and looks down at me expectantly. Her beautiful, bright brown eyes pierce mine as she rubs her breasts. I know what she wants. But I came. I look down and see Disha letting my dick slide out of her mouth and flop down. She's wiping the come from her lips and smiling as she swallows my load. I came, and this woman with the massive bush wants me to clean all of the squirt out of her bush, with my mouth.

I have to do it, but after I come, I become completely uninterested in sex. I become asexual. Suddenly I just want to take a shower and get the fuck out of here. But I know that will end everything, and I will be in a depression hole again, unable to function at all. I take a deep breath and lean in and start to slurp at her bush, taking clumps of the soaking hair into my mouth and sucking them dry before moving onto other parts of her bush.

"Get in there! Dry me off!" says the voluptuous woman.

I glance up as she talks and the last thing I see before I'm forced into her bush, up, deep between her legs is her brown breasts and slightly darker nipples. I'm asexual, for now. Until this wears off I've no sexual thoughts or desires, so I think about why evolution would make nipples different sizes and colors.

Then I'm licking the final drops of fluid from between this mess of hair and pussy lips. She tastes like curry. She starts to gush again. I'm unpleased by it. My dick is flaccid. I don't want to do this. I have to do this. I press my mouth around her pussy and drink her burst of excited love juice.

Finally finished with me, done with satisfying her long neglected, deepest desires, the woman pushes me back. Then I'm counting in my head and thinking she must be the last. Then I hear Disha yelp and look down at the couch. She's there, medium dark skin glistening, large, low natural breasts pressed against her abdomen because her legs are spread so widely and pressed backwards so she can thrust her pussy forward. Her stream erupts as she yelps again. It hits me directly in the mouth. Asexual me considers how she could possibly have such amazing aim.

I feel a hand on my head guiding me downward. Of course. Disha needs to be drank, too. I kneel down and lap at her squirt, slurping it into my mouth like a drinking fountain, and swallowing it, and hating it. It's pretty much just water, as are all the women's squirt, but now I'm not turned on, so the faint sour undertone comes into focus, and the absurdity of what I'm doing.

She finishes, and I lean back. Counting again, I confirm she was definitely the last. All women have been serviced. The women are giggling and looking at each other, smiling conspiratorially. The smell of ozone and musky female fluids is all. I'm fighting the urge to run to the shower. I am covered in these women's juices that they produced deep inside their bodies just for the sole purpose of enjoying me drinking them, and seeing me drenched by them.

My heart sinks. They all drink more water. A lot more water. Each is chugging a half liter water bottle. Fuck. I am fucked. I cannot handle this. They are rubbing their pussies again.

"Lay on the floor, honey," says Disha sweetly.

I begrudgingly lay down on my back. Intense emotion fills me as Amrita sits on my mouth, rubs her clit, and empties herself into my mouth. I'm swallowing as fast as I can the earthy tasting, watery liquid but some still overflows and drips down my chin and over my cheeks.

The second she gets up Anusha sits down. she doesn't even rub her clit. She already came, but nothing came out. Now she just needs to empty herself because she's full to bursting with squirt. She relaxes, looks down, and says, in her lilting accent, "Keep eye contact with me." Then she grabs me by the hair and really mounts my mouth, pressing her pussy down against and between my lips, and wiggling her hips to firmly settle it there. I lock eyes with her as she opens her mouth slightly, looking almost sad as her eyebrows knit together and arch slightly in the center. No, she's not sad, I realize. She's feeling the deep, primal desire, the need to fully, completely empty herself into my mouth. She's got her mound pressed so firmly against my face that her trimmed pubes tickle my nose, but I don't even think about that, as I keep looking at her eyes. She looks like one of those classical paintings where a woman's eyes look like they're somewhere between an orgasm and utter oblivion. A slight, short, high pitched sound exits her parted lips. She presses against the back of my head harder, and then her spray begins. She moans deeply and richly. A full moan of incredible satisfaction and relief. The stream strengthens intensely. She is really doing it. She's not holding back. This isn't an orgasm, so her muscles aren't going to contract and stop the flow. She's draining her pussy fluids into my mouth.

I drink all of her as she gushes for a very long time. The other women are enjoying the show, and being silent so they can hear the only sound in the room, which is the strong stream of water exiting Anusha's pussy, traveling through the space inside my mouth of about half an inch, and then splattering on my tongue, and the periodic sound of my throat working each time I swallow. I see a look like love in Anusha's eyes. That bizarre, mixed up painting look, as she lets me have everything inside of her. Finally she relaxes and straightens her body slightly. Her painting look turns to a warm smile. She stands up and her pussy rains on me for a moment. Looking up through the rain at her, she looks like a painting again.

I think to myself that must have been at least half a liter of water. Then I wonder at my own thought: water. It dawns on me that, despite it seeming like she was just pissing in my mouth, her bladder was completely full of the most pure squirt I'd ever tasted. It had no flavor or scent whatsoever.

My stomach is full to bursting as one of the women whose name I do not know sits down and starts to masturbate. She comes and gushes, and her squirt, as it slides into my stomach as I swallow it, has a very faint coffee flavor and scent. Despite my asexual self, I actually enjoy this.

The other women take their turns sitting and emptying with final orgasms. As each woman sits down I start to notice as I look at their wide hips and gently sloping stomachs that something seems to tell me how full they are of squirt. As each woman sits down, her stomach is slightly pushed out, and as she squirts, toward the end, when her pussy is almost completely drained, her stream will weaken, almost to a stop. Then I see her stomach draw in and flatten, like she's massaging herself with her own muscles to squeeze and milk out every last drop for me. A huge, final burst, long and steady, will pour into my mouth as she shudders with ecstatic release.

At last, the final woman takes her turn, and it's finally over. I sit up and to my great surprise they each take turns passionately kissing me. Disha holds back, and I realize it is because she drank my come, and knows I wouldn't like to taste my own come. I am baffled that the women could treat me like a squirt slave, who lives to drink pussy juice, and then switch to deep expressions of loving gratitude moments later.

That night, Frank and I meet at a bar.

"You good to do that again, next week?" asks Frank.

I groan. I'm still asexual. It takes hours for my libido to appear again after orgasm. "Fucking hell, Frank! I don't know, man. That was crazy."

Frank takes a drink of his beer and smiles at me. "Bro, they loved it. Said they felt like they were in heaven when you made them come, and when you drank them. They want to start a club for women like them, and you'd be the star member."

So that's how Squirt Club became a thing.