“Pick up your dress,” I said slowly, pausing so that Marina could translate, “Hold it over your head and wring it out. That’s it, all over you... face. Now, put it on.”The piss soaked tunic clung to her skin, translucent now, and she looked to be on the verge of tears.“Alright, cunt, before you go back to Rutherford’s, I want you to clean all this up. Ah, ah, ah,” I chided, as she reached for the washcloth that had been in her mouth. “Clean it with your tongue.”She did start crying then,. So strange for a Saturday, but it is a bit of a residential area, so guess they were just slow.Well, we didn't have any nearby chances, and were pretty drunk, so didn't want to risk going very far. Neither were really ready to call it a night, so I suggested heading back to my place, watching the rest of the game maybe and drinking a bit, as I had plenty of beer and liquor. So, that's what we did.We got back and grabbed a couple beers, hit the couch, and flipped the game on, which was now in. More

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