It amazed me then. It still amazes me now. One week I was a nice suburban house-frau intoxicated with my 'wickedness' at having taken a lover. The next week I'd become a pervert, lusting after ever more debauched experiences, just beginning to realise the pleasures of piss sex.
I remember looking down at my bare feet, preached on the sides of the bath, with my naked lover sat squat in the bath, looking back up at me from between my legs. His head is just a few inches beneath my pussy. I couldn't see his mouth, but I could hear his words.
"Oh Emily ... let go ... do this for me ... I want this so much". But his dishy blue eyes pleaded more eloquently, they had the look of hoping against hope. He was caught on the slenderest of threads: a dream that might actually come true. It was my decision; his dreams were in my power.
I felt a huge charge of energy; it almost made me feel giddy. So much desire, so much lust, so much sex could be unleashed. I thrilled at the power it gave me. "Why are you smiling" Robert asked. I didn't have to answer. The smile of power relaxed me, and with relaxation I felt my bladder release its golden cargo. Robert twisted his face in my hot salty piss stream, his wet hair brushing the sides of my thighs.
I looked down at my little funnel of pee as it arced from my pussy and drilled into the centre of his forehead. Little rivers of piss streamed either side of his nose, past tightly closed eyes, and rained into his open mouth. In his mouth, his pink tongue sat in a bright yellow lake.
Pee leaked from the corners of his mouth, running down his chin to drop as piss waterfalls into the bath. The stillness of his pose and the uplift of his head, reminded me of a worshiper. He was showing his love by glorying in the release of my most personal of body fluids. And I loved it.
Yet it amazes me that a week earlier I could not even think that people did such things. If Robert had casually dropped into our love making something like, "Oh darling, you're so cute, so very lovely, but you know what would really send me way over the top, really really make me wild, is if you'd urinate in my mouth, sweet darling."
Well, as a plan it's short, direct, and he'd probably never have to say "sorry", because after I'd have belted and/or kneed him, I'd have never spoken to the diseased little pervert ever again. What sort of woman do you think I am? Well, OK, we know that now ... but then, I was obviously not the one I fondly imaged.
Of course, it would be flattering to think that Robert did have a plan, which he deliberately set out to woo me into the dark side of the sex force. But that would all be far too melodramatic, (and most unlike most the men I have known). He just pushed at the frontiers, and each time I gave, he just pushed a little more.
It started on a Thursday. We'd snatched an illicit lunchtime together. We had to use my place -- my big sister would have noticed that someone had been in her house, a towel out of place or something [tip: try not to fall in love with your brother-in-law, it doesn't make for an easy life].
We'd had a hurried hot tussle, with me ending up with my panties round my knees, my skirt round my waist, draped over the back an armchair. My face was red from being left, rag-doll like, upside down. My backside was red from the hand prints where Robert gripped me tightly as his stiff straight seven inches doggied me.
There is something primitive, exciting, animalistic about being fucked from behind. It always makes me cum strongly. I try and fight it, to push it back -- to make it wait. It's an act of submission, the cock masters the cunt and pumps it into uncontrolled orgasm, and I don't want to give in till I can't help it.
It doesn't help when I feel a firm probing round my arsehole, a cock still ramming my pussy, while a sticky thumb is slowly but surely inserted into my arse. Robert thumb fucks my arse to the same rhythm that his cock drills my vagina, and I am helpless.
Each new "little death" of orgasm drains me further, reduces me to a limp fuck-doll bent over the back of chair. With relief my ears fill with the roar of a man's orgasm. My feet momentarily leave the ground as I am impaled on his discharging cock and shudder half a dozen times with each orgasmic shunt. There is a thud on my back as an exhausted lover collapses on top of me, panting. I feel his sweat run slowly down my back, his semen leak down my leg, his intruding cock shrink slowly out of my swollen pussy.
A quick fuck is followed by a quick shower. I wash away Robert's sex and make myself the fragrant Lady again. Robert lazily showers while I, to speed things up, sit primly on the toilet, my thighs tight together to trap any sights, sounds or smells. But the old porcelain rattles as I shyly emptied my bladder. Robert looks down at me, listening to me pee above the hiss of the shower, and starts rubbing his cock, which to my surprise responds to his soapy hand.
"Saucy" he says, cryptically. My peeing stops. "Are you going to be long?". I nod, I need to poo and lunchtime is ticking away. Robert stands shinny wet in a drizzle of warm water. A handsome man, I watch his fingers pull back the foreskin on his nearly erect penis and see a great bow of yellow liquid grow from it. It becomes a giant arched fountain, crossing the whole length of the bath he's standing in.
I go to say something but I don't know what. I'm astounded how far he can piss. I'm astounded he's pissing in my bath! I'm astounded that he can be so free, so unselfconscious. I'm astounded how long he can pee for -- it seems to go on forever. Robert looks up and winks at me. I blush for staring at him urinating.
Suddenly I feel wetness on my thigh, I look down. My mouth has been wide open for so long, I've dribbled down my chin on to my leg. Blushing, I turn to see if Robert's noticed. He's carefully shaking the last few squirts of urine out of his big cock. I have a slight jealous feeling that I can't do that. He unhooks the shower nozzle and quickly rinses round the bath.
He leaves me with a pecked kiss on my forehead to dry and dress, "had to go" he tosses casually over his shoulder, as I watch his buttocks match into the bedroom. I sit on my throne, a bit dazed by his frankness.
Friday night. Drunk again.
At closing time I leave the car at the pub and walk home with hubby, sister Kate and Robert. Anthonya nd Kate walk, on as Kate explains how there'd be world peace if only people did as she said. I have to help Robert, who's so drunk he can hardly stand — though he claims it's me who keeps stumbling and nearly dragging him down. Whatever.
We reach my road. A hundred metres up the other two have already gone indoors. I point to the house of a near neighbour whose monster-child had been bullying my little boy and whose slut-mother has done nothing about it. Robert stops and looks at the house in horror.
"Cum um" Robert says and tugs me half way up their drive. Swaying lightly in the night air, he unzips himself, takes out his cock, and starts to urinate over their prize company car. The BMW stands defenceless as he gives it an impressive dirty wash. I can't help but giggle, and giggling makes me want to go. "Go on" he whispers encouragement.
Quickly, I unbutton my jeans and pull them down with my knickers. Gently parting my pussy lips, I push on my bladder and am proud to watch a great gush of pee streak down the side of the car. My pee is as white as the gin and tonic in my blood stream, and I watch it amused, as it washes away the mud from a car wheel. Robert gives me a "Wow!" look and just to show off, demonstrates how he can point his cock in the air and pee on the car roof.
I suffer slight penis envy and try the same trick by leaning back. A mistake, I fall straight back into a flower bed while still pissing myself.
Actually "pissing yourself laughing" is rather a debilitating state; as your top half is immobilised by convulsive shacking, and your bottom half is uncontrollably leaking like a baby.
My "hero" rescues me, helps me to stand and pull my now wet pants back up. We scurry off into the darkness like naughty children, giggling helplessly. Back home, Robert explains that we had a bit of a tumble, but the other two just roll their eyes as we are senseless with laughter, tears running down our drunken faces.
Saturday. Hung-over.
Sunday. Bath night.
I'm half asleep in the scented hot water, just a head poking out of a white mountain range of bubbles. I'm aware of just the most microscopic of pleasures. The steam rising from my face is like the gentlest of face packs. My nipples, stroked by the lapping water, are stiff. The hot water seeps into every crack and crevice of my pussy, and softly prizes my lips apart; they flap slowly in the wash. Delicious, dreamy, softly sexy.
My bladder whispers in my head that it would quite like to relax too. Not to "go", mind, nothing as active as that. Just to let go is restraining muscles and join the rest of my body in its stupor.
I smile with pleasure as I feel the pee run down my urethra. I see a small nearly clear fountain of pee pop through the bubbles and land a couple of inches down my thigh. Even in the warm bath its hotness against my leg is surprising, and nice. It is such a small, comfortable, private thrill to wet myself. I watch a bubble mountain spin in the eddies of my expanding pee lake. Lazily I move my arm. It feels like a giant effort. I put my hand in my pee fountain. It tickles across my fingers, hot and nice.
I am emptied. I feel truly "relieved". Curiously I bring my finger to my tongue and taste myself. I taste sour. I taste a little salty. It feels good, and I close my eyes and drift into dreamy sleep.
Monday night.
Hubby pulling the night-shift. Big-sis teaching her evening class. Kids out. Two little love birds have time for one another. My blonde hair is done up nice. I give off the sweet musk of Chanel No.5.
The girlie blue dress flatters my small bust, emphasises my nibble waist, and does the best it can for my big fat bum. When Robert comes he takes me in his big arms -- he's 6' 2", 190 lbs, with powerful shoulders and a nice little butt -- I swoon. And I'm not normally the swooning type. He's plumped for a night of romance, rather than torrid sex -- smart boy. [Pay attention, pervert: A girl needs romance too. But just for you, we can take it as read that we did the eye gazing thing, and held hands, and talked and talked. But just because I'm missing it out, doesn't mean it didn't matter.]
As we left the restaurant I felt really good, really warm. The bright night time city was humming with people. As we walk arm in arm I realise that I need to go. But every where is closing up.
Robert suggests I go in a shop doorway -- with half the city strolling past, no thank you. He tells me not to be so prim. Not a clever thing to say. He points to a bank with a nice secluded entrance, I point to the video camera. He suggests an ally way -- but it's got some people sleeping rough. But by now I really have to go, bad. I settle for a beautiful clothes shop, where I can never afford their stuff.
Gathering a dress round you so you don't wet yourself isn't actually that easy. I hiss to Robert not to watch, as it would only draw attention to a woman squatting in the half shadows. For a few seconds I can't go. For thirty seconds I can't go. For a minute. "Hurry up" Robert hisses.
He obviously just decided to end his life at that point, because when I got rid of the terrible pain in my bladder, I was going to have to kill him. Mercy came in a torrent. I hadn't noticed the slight slope and a river of piss started down the pavement at a surprising speed. It certainly surprised Robert when he looked down to see himself standing in a fast moving river of my pee. He twisted round and smiled at me, and then faced front, perfectly nonchalant.
I looked between my legs. My piss was white and foamy (what had I been drinking?). I was trying not to let it out all at once, because the splash back would mess me. But I was trying to pee quickly. Someone was bound to hear the gutter gurgling to itself, and trace back the ten foot river to a crouched woman in a doorway, her pink bottom mooning in the moonlight. As my piss waned to a dribble I felt so much better, calmer. Robert stretched out a hand to help me up, and I decided not to kill him, this time.
Instead, when we reached the car I stopped Robert from getting in. Reaching up I give him a long slow hot loving wet kiss. I could feel him melt and stiffen at the same time. I cup the hardness in his trousers and make him moan.
He tries to stop me unzipping him, though not very hard. "People can see us, Emily" he whispers as I bend down to suck his hardening cock. "I know" I said lushly. I feel intoxicated with power, with being in control, with being a bad girl. "Take the piss out of me not wanting to expose myself in public" I'm thinking, "well, take this."
Apparently a couple returning to their car take a sudden diversion when they spot us. I don't care, I'm chewing on my lover's cock bone and it feels great in my mouth. But Robert can't relax in public. He pleads for us to get into the car. I relent. But as I finish him off, softly licking and nibbling his purple hard cock, till he ejaculates into my hot mouth, I'm thinking: Well that's one up for me, Mr Daring-in-Public.
Tuesday night. I have a dream. I'm at work. It's break-time. All my colleagues are busy drinking teas and coffees and gossiping. I'm sat in the best chair. Break ends, they don't have time for the toilet. Mrs Holdswell said it was my fault.
They all murmur agreement. I plead that that's not fair, not true. But she tells Mr Payne and Mr Jones to hold me down. I try to get up but they grab my arms and keep me pushed into the chair. Mrs Holdswell, a striking blonde woman in her late thirties, hitches up her skirt.
My mouth drops to see the daintiness of her shocking scarlet panties. She pulls them down and runs a hand through her thick brown bush. The room is totally silent but for the sound of me futilely twisting in my chair, and the loud hiss as she starts to piss straight into my lap. The sensation of hot pee drilling into my tummy flows over my middle, making my white blouse turn wet pale yellow.
Young red-headed Miss Braithwaite appears besides me, her black slacks round her knees, her fingers parting her small lips, and from her ginger fringed pussy a small trickle of wee wee falls on to my breasts. Mr Jones opens my blouse so that Miss Braithwaite can pee directly on my naked titties.
His hands are wetted as he fondles me, till he can take it no more and plunges his lips down on to my piss wet nipples. Miss Braithwaite giggles as she pee pees on to the back of Mr Jones' sucking head.
Mrs Holdswell's place is taken by Mrs Casey and Miss Grace. Between them they have more tits on their chests than the bosoms of all the other women put together.
With one hand they open up their pussies and rain their bladders down on my soggy body; with the other, they explore each others huge bouncy chest, tugging at prominent nipples. They both aim their hard pee jets on my pussy. It itches for a good rubbing under the pounding watery teasing, but frustrated, I can't get my arms free.
Miss Braithwaite swaps with Mr Jones. I feel electric as her teeth nibble and pull at my nipple, as Mr Jones starts to hose heavy piss down the side of Miss Braithwaite's face and across my exposed chest. Mrs Holdswell fishes out Mr Payne's rock hard cock. He is a lot bigger than I imaged. He starts pissing a fine thin long stream. She holds his cock and plays his piss from my pussy, up my body, over the back of Miss Braithwaite's tit-sucking red head, along my neck, and into my face.
I screw my eyes tight shut at the power of the fine jet. My eyes, my nose, my forehead, my cheeks, my chin, even my ears are sprayed with his hot salty liquid. Involuntarily, to breathe, I open my mouth, and at once I feel its cavity fill with hot urine. I spit a mouthful out and it pours like a hot wave down by neck and across my front.
Blinded by piss in my eyes, I feel my knickers being removed. It is a relief to feel a tongue on my clitoris. I image the normally reserved Miss Grace greedily licking my pussy out, but I'm not sure. In my mouth, Mr Payne's thin hard jet is replaced by another. I have no idea who is now using my mouth as a toilet. Man or women, young or old.
All I know is that they pee a huge heavy sour lake into my mouth. I keep it open all the time now and urine constantly runs off my chin and down my neck. The nibbling of my nipples and the licking of my clit and the pissing in my mouth suddenly, violently, bring me off in a body wrecking cum. I almost choke swallowing the pee in my mouth as I twitch in the agony of pleasure.
I wake up coughing. It's just my bedroom. Hubby is sleeping peacefully. But I'm wet through, hot, flustered. I'm disturbed by my dream, by how sexy it was, and it takes me a while to get back to sleep.
Wednesday and another lunchtime. Furtive e-mails. We're in luck again. No meetings, no deadlines, no calls, no questions. The sun has baked all day. We sit on the patio. Robert is stripped to his shorts. He wants me but I fain that it's just too too hot for sex.
But I let him rub sun cream on to the bits of me not covered by my gay yellow sun dress. He burbles about just how fine I look, all golden haired, fair skinned, with a pretty dress on. Discreetly, he doesn't mention the freckles that pop out with the sun. He rubs my arms and the tops of shoulders, and then cheekily dips his creamy hand down the front of my dress and cups a braless little titty. I let him suffer, fondling me like some over eager teenager, brain in his hardened cock. He kisses me earnestly, hotly. But it is too hot, much too hot for sexual gymnastics.
I push the hapless lump away with a wave. He kneels, like a servant, at my feet. He takes off my sandals and starts to massage my hot feet with his cool creamy hands. I sink a little deeper into the chair as he relaxes me. Slowly, methodically, his hands advance up my legs. He's got me now, I'm purring with pleasure, but he knows it's important to be unhurried, important to value every inch of me. To eke out the maximum sensation from, say, the back of my knees, rather than make a clumsy lunge for my cherry.
As his hands reach the hem of my dress, mid way down my thigh, I'm ready for him. I raise my legs to prop them on the arms of the chair and lift my dress to my waist. The delight on his face is a turn-on in itself.
There seems to be a special electricity that hits a man when his eyes fall on the pussy of a woman who hasn't been wearing any panties. He stretches out a hand a lightly strokes my bush, as if saying a careful hello to a timid cat. He looks up at me with a hungry fire in his eyes. I can't help but laugh lightly and say "din-dins, darling, eat it all up or you won't get any afters".
His face submerges itself into the yielding flesh of my pussy, his tongue sliding my lips apart. He starts flicking his tongue in the entrance of my vagina. It is a soft warm heaven. Then slowly he drags his tongue across my urethra - making me feel like I need to go -till finally he sneaks his tongue under my little hood, to get at my pert stiff clitoris.
I feel dizzy with heat, inside and out. Beads of sweat start to trickle down my temple. I can't help let out a slight moan as Robert starts to track back down my pussy. My clitoris is so hungry. I place my hand on my secret spot, just to the right of my pussy hood, where I can softly rub a fold underneath, which rubs against my clit, and gives me the most wonderful slow torture.
My whole pussy is a silky slippery wet glistening jewel, and Robert luxuriously eats me out, while my finger plays little tickle games with my hard clit. I feel I'm beginning to lose it as he starts to tongue fuck me: running his tongue round my vagina, inserting it as far as he can get it in, before wiggling it.
I can hardly catch my breath for letting out sighs and moans and whimperings. I feel a finger enter me, as Robert's tongue travels down to forbidden regions. My own hand cruelly teases my clit and my anus twitches in excited hope -- will he lick my shit-hole? I try and pucker my dry arse, and hear myself beg my lover to lick me. Godddd!!! A hot wet tongue is firmly pushed against my sphincter and I involuntarily tighten my arse around his tongue as I erupt into ecstatic exhausting orgasm.
I found myself half on my side, half in a foetal ball. Hot, sweaty, breathless, weak. Beyond my feet, Robert's smiling face, wet with my cum juices, grinning back at me -- obviously proud of his handy work.
He brings me a long cold drink, remarking, "you're boiling, why don't you take that off". I gulp it down. I'm tempted to take my dress off, to lie nude in the sun. It is one of the joys of having a private garden. I do it.
Robert helps me off with my dress and kneels beside. He applies more sun cream to my fair body. The lotion tickles with coolness, and his hands massages it into my hot skin. Apparently by breasts need quadruple the attention that the rest of me does.
Poor Robert is so terribly turned-on, but he is impressively diligent in caring for his woman. He presses the cream into my lower abdomen, and I "Och!" a cry as he presses on my bladder, bringing to my attention its fullness.
"Bugger" I sigh, "I've got to go to the bathroom".
"Go here" Robert chirps, all big smiles.
I smile back. The heat is stultifying. I feel limp from my orgasm. And nursing a full bladder up stairs seems an uncomfortable idea.
"Go here", he repeats. I realise it's not a suggestion, it's a request. I look at him. Stare at him. Unsure what he means.
"I dare you" he twinkles.
"Oh well" I think, "if we're back into that who can be more daring than who game, I think we know who lost last time".
I close my eyes and cast my mind back to Sunday in the bath. I try and fix that honeyed feeling of sighed relief as I let myself go. My mind reaches down to my bladder as says, "give up ... let go". I feel thrilled that I'm about to disobey years of potty-training and habit. Thrilled to be as innocent as a child. Thrilled to exhibit my most private things to my lover. It comes easily, and I start to warmly urinate.
The slapping of water landing on patio concrete several feet away made me open my eyes. With slight surprise I realise that it's me doing that. I smile at Robert, proud at girl-pee power. He's not look at me, he's looking, goggle-eyed really, at me peeing. I'm surprised to see his shorts round his ankles, his cock, stiff to bursting point, in his hand. He holds it just with his thumb and middle finger, rubbing the base of the head which just the tiniest movements. His whole rigid body says he's trying hard not to cum.
He cums in several great white sheets of goo, helplessly ejaculating two-three feet in great wet clumps. The shin of my left leg is splashed from the knee to the ankle. I had never, ever, seen Robert cum so strongly.
I sat up in surprise, my bladder snapped shut. I looked down at the mess he'd made. He looked over at the puddle I'd made.
"Wow" I said softly. Robert smiled at me sheepishly. I stood and walked to him, taking him in my arms, letting him nestle his head on my shoulder.
"I guess you must think I'm a terrible pervert"
"Well" I replied, still hugging him, "lets see now. You think nothing of seducing your sister-in-law, you break my anal virginity, you admit to trawling through industrial quantities of smut on the Internet, and now you give your biggest ever spunk display watching me go toilet. ... Hmmm ..." I tease "I guess you are a bit of pervert."
I release him and turn to go indoors.
"Where you going?"
"I haven't finished yet. I still need the bathroom"
"No, don't go, do it here"
"Rooooberrrt! You can't want more!"
"Oh yes yes I can." He lunges at me, gripping me by the shoulders "Oh please Emily, please ... it would be so good ... it would make me so horny ... especially knowing you were doing it for me ... oh please Emily".
He spoke quickly, with panicked passion. I didn't really know how to handle this.
"Let me lay down, so I can watch you properly." He lays beside my wet patch of concrete, already playing with his plump cock. His eyes pleading up at me.
So I thought, "if I do this, he'll be very happy, he'll be thrilled. But if don't do this he'll be very disappointed, and there'll be a small gulf between us: a space were I could give him enjoyment, but refuse to."
And I thought, "does it really bother me? .... Not really ... I mean, it's a bit dirty, but Robert's thirst to see me 'perform' makes it more naughty-dirty than dirty-dirty."
So I bent my knees slightly, and tried hard not to feel a little silly, a lot shy, and extremely self-conscious.
The rain of piss left me as a single vertical sheet, which a couple of inches from my pussy, broke up into a complex drizzle of piss droplets. I didn't mean to piss on him. I only meant to give him a good view. But I found myself showering my lover's hip and tummy -- and he's loving it!!!
One hand is flying up and down his cock so hard, so fast, I fear he's going to pull it off. The other hand deliberately reaches out to the middle of my piss rain. He cups his hand and lets it collect a little piss puddle.
My bladder empties, quickly followed by his balls. His wanking hand gets covered in his creamy cum -- not the Olympic Record spunk of a few minutes ago, but I'm impressed he did it again so quickly. He gazes up at me all soppy, one hand rubbing his cum into his wet tummy, and other spilling my pee on to his chest and neck.
I help him up, and we stand naked, wrapped in each others arms for a long tender moment. Suddenly I hear to clatter of water striking concrete and look down. A torrid stream of piss is passing inches from my hip, flying past to land four-five feet behind me.
Trapped in Robert's hug, I lean back in shock and surprise. Not knowing how to react, I just watch him relieve himself. It's mesmerising. I feel hot driblets pepper my thigh. It feels surprisingly good. Robert deliberately moves his cock to pee over the top my thigh. He holds be tighter as I involuntarily snapped backwards with surprise.
"RooBertttt!!!" I protest as my whole leg is washed with his pee. My thigh is gleaming with hot piss as little rivers of urine tickle down my leg. Suddenly he stops, as his hold on me loosens a little. I look him in the eyes, glaring with indignation, but only see dreamy love and happiness in his. I'm surprised and annoyed that he did this thing without my permission.
But I'm shocked to realise that I'm not shocked. And I realise that our relationship has crossed a barrier, and taken on a new dimension, as I stand, baptised, in the arms of my lover.
That night I dreamed that I was looking down at my bare feet, preached on the sides of the bath, with my naked lover sat squat in the bath, looking back up at me from between my legs. His head is just a few inches beneath my pussy. I couldn't see his mouth, but I could hear his words. "Oh Emily ... let go ... do this for me ... I want this so much"........
It was a good dream, and latter, a better reality.