Cris is kneeling on the floor, rummaging through drawers looking for a lost ring, when the bedroom door opens without warning. Her friend appears, with a mischievous smile and eyes dark with desire: “Boredom is one thing I can't stand... How about our special game?” Cris felt a shiver run down his spine - they had an unspoken pact, an intimate ritual where the most secret fluids would come to satisfy their hunger. Wordlessly, her friend sprawls on the bed, her legs spread in silent invitation. “Today I want to see you beg,” she whispers, as her fingers trace moist circles on her skin. Cris can't resist: she moves closer, her hungry tongue ready to drink every drop of hot urine that her friend releases with hoarse moans. The room, previously silent, fills with obscene sounds - the spurt on Cris's face, the fingers entwined in her hair pulling hard, the dirty whisper of “drink it all, you little slut”.
