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He wanted her to ask for a drink. Not because he had to go, not because he was forcing her, but because she was so thirsty she was willing to drink piss. They both knew it. She could wait. She was completely parched, and would have done just about anything for a glass of water, but to actually ask to drink piss? But then she rationalized that eventually she would have to, either because she broke down, or because the others returned and made her. And she really was very thirsty.
"Please, may I drink your piss?" "No thanks, I just went". He was going to make this difficult. "Please, I am very thirsty, and I would like...I would love a drink of your piss" "Oh, sure. Help yourself." and he handed her the can. Hot piss in a hot can on a hot day. Not refreshing. God this stuff tasted awful. Where shit didn't taste as bad as she thought, this was even worse. And she never got used to it. Last night had been better; it was almost all beer. But this morning had been gut wrenching; the acrid liquor of the night's collected toxins. A few sips now was enough to remind her how pleasant being thirsty was, but a harsh look from him at her can, and she knew she was to finish it. Mouthful by mouthful she choked the foul stuff back, crying just one more time at her deplorable situation.