He gives it to you the same way that made you squirt so much before

"I'm gonna fuck you your favorite way," he says, making you grin as you continue to rotate your ass, enticing him forward. The only downside is that the delay has made your bladder start to fill again.

Ever since you were a little girl you had bladder problems. Not infections, just trouble holding it. You'd peed the bed until you were thirteen, and even nowadays you got up once or twice a night to go to the washroom. Having just drunk a giant cup of pop, followed by another giant cup of - gag - urine, your body is still working its way through the pop.

You're all but purring when he grabs your round little ass and guides himself to you. The purr turns to a startled yelp as he pushes forward against not your pussy, but your sore, swollen asshole.

"W... wait... I thought you wanted to fuck my pussy..." you protest, then grimace as he pushes forward harder, your burning anus reluctantly parting like the red sea.

jacob groans. "I want to fuck you the way you love it best. Up that tight little ass of yours. God I wish I knew beofre how much it'd make you squirt to have a thick dick plowing roughly into your shit-shute."

Hungry eyes widen as his words reach their ears and you wish now that they'd turn back to the movie. You try to dip your head down to at least hide your face from them but Jacob grabs your hair and pulls on your brunette locks, directing your eyes toward the screen.

The actress in the film lies in the bed of a seedy hotel, her latest conquest, a stranger, fucks her violently from behind.

Your eyes blur as the painful fuck continues and with horror you find his thrusts pushing you downward, mashing your lower stomach into the top of the seat in front of you. Your bladder compresses with each hard stroke, making the ballooning organ feel like it'll pop each time.

Finally his deep thrusts prove too much for the little organ and you feel yourself losing control of your bladder once again, piss spraying into the seat behind you.

"That's it, come like a fountain while I shaft your ass!" Jacob urges, reaching up to grab the collar and give the 'W' a yank. "Cum like the whore on the screen," he urges, and you **** and gasp for breath.

Jacob continues to pound into you for several more minutes, and your bladder periodically loses control as if it's given up all efforts to control your muscles. The seat behind your becomes soaked and your legs glisten with the filthy coating of your piss.

At long last Jacob pulls all the way out and then jams himself balls deep into you, making you squeal as he yanks harder on your hair while he cums.

"What a whore," a character on the screen says, feeling like a slap as Jacob slips his softening dick from your hurting back passage.

"Absolutely amazing," he praises. "I always thought you were faking it before, but now that I know you're a squirter I'll know every time you cum."

"I..." you start to protest, but how can you tell him you hated it, that it hurt you? Or even perhaps admit that you've faked it before and other times you enjoyed it. Wouldn't it hurt him to know that he didn't always get you off? But was it better to make him think that you only came when something squirted out of you?

You're still pondering the question when he slaps your ass, rolls off the condom, and tucks his dick back in.

"Shit," he says, looking at his cell. "I got a text. I have to go. Look, I'll call you, okay?" he says, but doesn't wait for a reply. You're still groaning and moaning your way back to a semi-upright position when he rounds the corner and pushes through the theatre doors.