As the hours passed, and as the beer kept flowing, they started staggering into the bathroom more visibly drunk, their stride more and more lopsided, their every movement more and more inebriated, but still they kept coming. Through the grainy video feed, I could see guy after guy after guy after guy take his place in front of the urinal. The screen on my laptop was never inactive for long. I lay there, pinned down to the spanking bench, more and more piss flowing through the tube, through my piss gag, and into my mouth as the night wore on.
After the ordeal with the itching gel, in fact, as I have explained, I finally began to quickly get most of the feet in the frat down my heart.
