Milf Hunter: Seducing And Taming Beauties

Chapter 899: Gabriela’s “Ay Dios, I’m Peeing on You”

"He is ordered to appear daily before this court until further notice, is prohibited from leaving the jurisdiction without express permission, and will remain under electronic monitoring for a period of no less than five years."

Diaz didn’t react. He just stared at the table in front of him, shoulders slumped. The cameras caught a single tear tracking down his scarred cheek before he wiped it away with the back of his hand.

The screen cut back to the anchor.

I let out a long breath I didn’t realize I’d been holding.

Sarah stirred beside me, mumbling something incoherent. Her hand slid across the sheets and found my thigh, fingers curling loosely.

I set the empty plate on the nightstand, muted the TV, and lay back down, pulling her gently against my chest. She nuzzled into my neck without fully waking, warm and soft and still smelling faintly of last night.

I tucked the blanket around Sarah’s limp, satisfied body, smoothing it over her curves one last time.

She stirred faintly—murmuring something soft and incoherent—then sighed and sank deeper into sleep, completely spent. Her flushed cheeks, the faint red marks on her ass, the way her thighs still trembled slightly... fuck, she looked ruined in the most beautiful way.

But my mind was already elsewhere.

Gabriela.

She would have seen the broadcast by now. The sentences. The tears on Diaz’s face. The final nail in the coffin of that whole corrupt nightmare.

She’d be alone in that hotel room, probably shaking, probably trying to hold it together like she always did. I needed to be there. Needed to remind her she wasn’t alone anymore.

I dressed quickly—black hoodie, dark jeans—slipped out the balcony door, and took the fire escape down.

The city was waking up, but the streets still felt half-asleep. Twenty minutes later, I was scaling the side of the hotel, muscle memory kicking in as I hauled myself over the railing of Gabriela’s suite balcony.

The sliding door was cracked open. She’d left it that way—maybe hoping I’d come back like this.

Inside, the room was dim, curtains half-drawn. I heard water running in the bathroom. Soft splashing. A quiet sniffle.

I pushed the door open without knocking.

Gabriela was perched on the toilet seat, nightgown hiked up around her hips, black lace panties already tugged down to her ankles. Her knees were pressed together, thighs trembling slightly.

She looked... fragile. Eyes red-rimmed from crying, hair messy, lips parted like she’d been biting them to keep quiet.

She looked up and gasped.

"Aaah... Jack... you’re back..."

Her voice cracked—half relief, half embarrassment.

I stepped inside, letting the door click shut behind me. The air smelled faintly of her soap and the sharp, intimate scent of her arousal mixed with the need she was desperately trying to hold back.

"What are you...?" she whispered, cheeks flaming as she realized I was staring right between her spread thighs.

I didn’t answer with words.

I closed the distance in two steps, dropped to one knee in front of her, and gently but firmly gripped her knees.

I pushed them apart—slow, deliberate—until her glistening pussy was fully exposed to me. Pink, swollen, already slick despite everything. A thin string of wetness stretched between her folds as I spread her wider.

"No... Jack, don’t tease it..." Her voice was small, pleading. "I—I need to pee so bad... I’ve been holding it since the news... please..."

I smiled—dark, hungry—and leaned in closer. My breath ghosted over her clit. She whimpered, hips jerking involuntarily.

"Jack... don’t... I can’t hold it if you—"

I didn’t let her finish.

I dragged the flat of my tongue slowly up the entire length of her slit—long, wet, possessive—tasting salt and heat and the faint tang of her desperation. Her whole body jolted like she’d been shocked.

"No... don’t... aaaaaaaaahhh..."

Her hands flew to my hair, not sure if she wanted to push me away or pull me closer. Her thighs quivered violently around my ears.

I licked again—harder this time—circling her clit with the tip of my tongue before sucking it between my lips. She cried out, back arching off the seat.

"NOOOOO—! Aaaaahhh—Jack—I’m peeing—I’m peeing—I’m so sorry— I’m so sorry— aaaahhh— it’s coming out— it’s all coming out— ay dios— I can’t stop— I’m pissing on your face— I’m such a dirty girl— I’m so ashamed— aaaahhh— fuuuck—!"

The first real jet hit my tongue — hot, forceful, splashing against my lips and running down my chin in rivulets. She wailed in pure mortification, tears streaming, body convulsing as wave after wave poured out of her.

I didn’t flinch. I kept licking through it — tongue swirling over her clit, fingers pumping inside her spasming cunt — turning her desperate release into the hardest, messiest orgasm she’d probably ever had.

"Jack—Jack—oh my god—I’m cumming while I pee— I’m cumming so hard— I can’t believe this— it’s so wrong— I’m such a nasty slut— aaaahhh— don’t stop— please don’t stop— I’m still going— there’s more— there’s so much— aaaahhh—!"

Her stream kept coming in erratic bursts — strong gushes followed by fluttering trickles — each one making her sob louder, blush deeper, hips jerking uncontrollably. The front of my shirt was soaked, the tile floor puddled beneath us, the bathroom echoing with wet splashes and her broken, embarrassed cries.

When the last weak spurts finally tapered off, she collapsed forward — forehead against my shoulder, body shaking with aftershocks and leftover shame.

"I... I can’t look at you..." she whispered, voice hoarse and trembling. "You... you drank it... You really drank my pee... I’m never gonna live this down... I’m so embarrassed... my face is burning... I feel so small..."

I stood slowly, wiping my chin with the back of my hand, staring down at her wrecked, flushed, dripping mess of a body.

I gripped her chin gently — forced her teary eyes up to mine.

"You’re not small, Gabriela. You’re fucking perfect." My voice came out rough, thick with lust. "And you just came harder than ever because I made you piss like my dirty little secret. Say thank you."

Her lower lip quivered. Fresh tears spilled.

"Th-thank you... Jack..." she choked out, barely audible. "Thank you for... for making me... lose control... I’m so ashamed and... and so turned on... I hate that I love it..."

I smirked, scooped her trembling body off the toilet — panties still dangling from one ankle — and carried her straight to the bed.

"Shower can wait," I growled against her ear. "I’m not done tasting every filthy inch of you."

She buried her burning face in my neck and whimpered — half sob, half needy moan.

"Sí... please... make me worse..."