Soaking Wendy

John stopped in front of Wendy, towering over her. She looked up at him, still smiling.

He grabbed his cock with his left hand and pointed it in the direction of Wendy's face.

'Actions speak louder than words.'

He started pissing on the TV host, the yellow stream hitting her right in between the eyes.

'WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU...' - Wendy screamed and jumped up from her chair. Anticipating this, John immediately gave her a powerful backhanded slap with his free hand, which spun her around and sent her tumbling over the back of her chair, flipping it over in the process.

She crumpled into a heap, lying face down on the studio floor.

John held back his piss, stepped over the chair, grabbed the **** Wendy by the arms and pulled her back to the foreground, spreading her out on her back. He motioned to the camera man, who complied and centered the image on the two of them.

Standing with one foot on Wendy's chest and the other on the floor, he let his piss go again and aimed the stream at her face, soaking her skin and hair, washing away her makeup and occasionally moving the stream so that it went into her open mouth, filling it to the brim.

'Don't you dare shout at me, you disrespectful whore!' - he growled, stepping back and moving his cock up and down along the length of her inert body. The white blouse soaked through instantly, giving an even clearer view of her bra and even her dark nipples were now visible. Her purple skirt darkened and her legs glistened with piss. He even made sure to cover the shoes.

When he was done, Wendy was lying in a puddle, glistening and unmoving. Her mouth was still open, a lake of urine filling it.

He shook his cock, put it back in his boxers, pulled up his trousers and squatted down next to Wendy's face. Pinching her nose closed and pushing her lips back together, he waited until she swallowed instinctively. When he let go, she drew in a panicked breath and started coughing uncontrollably. Her eyes opened, wide with panic. John chose this moment to spit into her right eye, hitting her eyeball dead on. She made a pitiful wailing sound, curled up into a ball and started coughing again, drawing ragged breaths inbetween.

John kneeled down next to her, unclasped the golden necklace from around her neck, wiped it on the chair and put it in his pocket. 'I'm sure you won't mind, Wendy!' - he said with a smile.

He then stood up and looked into the camera. 'And that, dear viewers, is the way the cookie crumbles! God, I always wanted to say that.'

With that, he turned and walked out of the picture.

As he entered the corridor leading out of the studio and into the alley behind the building, he spotted a young intern standing against the wall. Walking past her, he reached out and gave her right breast a squeeze, without slowing his pace. She yelped, but was too intimidated by the large man sporting a facial scar to say anything, and just covered her chest with her arms, staring after John as he walked out of the building.

John didn't need to look back to know what was going to happen back in the studio. The moment his hand touched the intern's chest, Wendy sat up on the studio floor. She got on her feet, pulled her chair upright and sat back down with a wet squelch. Her piss-soaked hair was hanging in messy strands and her make-up was completely ruined, making her look like a panda. She looked at the camera with a big smile.

'Now, where were we? Ah, yes, dear viewers, what a treat does Steelville have lined up for today! In a first for our beautiful city...'