The Pee Story
I had my eye on him for awhile.
I was 19 years old, and living in a ski resort town in the Rockies. He was a bartender at a local bar, tall and well built, tanned even in the winter. Perfect teeth. Beautiful eyes. Dark hair.
I decided that he would be mine.
I flirted as best I knew how to at 19 – slutty shirts, big tips and giggling. He would flirt back the way bartenders do – with free shots, broad smiles, compliments and the occasional wink. Finally, after perhaps two weeks of flirting – which felt like an eternity – he finally asked me out. Only, it wasn’t exactly asking me out. It was more like:
“Hey, I have tomorrow off, so we’re coming here for drinks. You should come”
I agreed, even though Wednesday nights were notoriously lame at that bar. Sure, it had dollar drinks – but so did at least 2 other bars in town that night. And it was Underground Hiphop Night – in a predominately white ski resort town. Nonetheless, I was sure of two things: that I needed to get laid desperately, and that Bartender was the man for the job.
My friends and I partied almost every night that year. That’s not an exaggeration. The year I was 19, I was at a bar (either working or drinking) every night, except for the 5 days I was in the hospital from mono, which was brought on by a weakened immune system – from drinking. That being our state of mind, I figured it would be no problem to convince the girls to come to the bar. I was wrong. Apparently, my all-white friends didn’t like underground hiphop, and not even the lure of dollar drinks was enough to convince them that they did.
Luckily, I had an ace up my sleeve, and that ace was my roommate Janie.
Janie was my main partner in crime. You know when you have a friend who thinks everything is a good idea? That was Janie. Hitchhike home from Canmore at 4 am? Sure. Pop ecstacy and make out with each other all night at Cowboys in Calgary? Why not? Eat magic mushrooms at 9am to get over a tequila hangover? Those mushrooms aren’t going to eat themselves!
I knew I could count on Janie to come to lame underground hiphop night … and she did. Warily.
“You’re not going there to meet a guy and ditch me right away, right?”, she asked me suspiciously.
“I am shocked. Shocked and offended, Janie. I just want to check out some uh… sick underground beats… and you think I’m going to meet a guy?”
So through my lies and guilt trips, and possibly a bribe involving alcohol, we went to the bar.
Janie headed straight to the first bar, but I spotted Bartender from across the bar and dragged Janie to a bar closer to where he was sitting. I ordered our drinks and then turned around to feign surprise that he just happened to be sitting right next to the bar where I was ordering drinks. What a coincidence!
I pulled Janie over to the table where Bartender and his roommate, Creepshow, were sitting. Bartender orders several rounds of drinks and shots, and within the hour I’m drunk and sitting on Bartender’s lap, while Janie looks forlornly at the dance floor. I had forbidden her to leave the table as she had to keep Creepshow occupied. Janie was not impressed when I announced that Bartender and I are going back to his place.
Since we also had a “Safety in Numbers!” rule, Janie came with us. We got to Bartender and Creepshow’s house, and Creepshow was all over Janie, who is resisting his advances. Bartender came back with drinks and turns on the TV – which happens to have a porn DVD called “Big FN Titties 5″ playing.
“For fuck’s sake!” Janie cursed. “We’re leaving.”
I calmed her down. I told her she is the best friend in the world and I would totally do the same for her, and I’d do her laundry for a month if she’s not mad. I told her I’m hornier than I’ve ever been in my life, and that if I don’t have sex that night, something drastic is going to happen, and if I kill myself I’ll make sure that she would be the one to find my body. Then I made her a really strong drink.
So Janie goes back to the living room and Bartender comes into the kitchen where we start making out. He pauses:
“Do you like… wet sex?”
I’m 19, relatively inexperienced, and definitely not familiar with most kinds of kink.
“Wet…sex…” I repeat.
I think of the only thing it could possibly be:
“Like… sex in the shower?”
Bartender laughs and tells me I’m cute. We resume making out.
“I have a jacuzzi tub” he says, as though it’s impressive. “Let’s have a bath”
I figure that’s what he meant by “wet sex” and so he runs a bath while I make another round of drinks. Janie is still sitting in the living room, shooting me evil looks whenever she can. Creepshow is offering her a foot massage. Janie pulls me aside and tells me that she hates Creepshow, and she hates me at that moment, and that I have to get off and go and that’s it.
So I hop into the bath with Bartender, who looks amazing naked. Muscular and with sexy tattoos and tanned skin. He’s trying to be sensual, but due to my sexual inexperience, it’s coming off as awkward and strange. He’s dramatically lowered his voice and is massaging me while saying things like “I love to be warm with my lovers… warm and wet”
Since the conversation is not making me warm, and especially not wet, I make an excuse to get out of the bath and head to his bedroom. Finally.. finally… I was going to fuck him.
I’m trying to think about how I can write this without it coming off as some horrifying cheesy erotica, and there’s no way to avoid it, so I’ll just do it.
He sat upright on the bed, and I straddled him, we were making out and rolling around and I ended up on top again. Then he said it:
“Piss on me”
I thought I had misheard him, so I kept riding him. He said it again, louder and with more urgency.
“Piss on me. Piss on my cock”
I still wasn’t sure if I had heard him right, but I wanted to make sure he knew my opinion on it.
My “no” came out as a question. Like “If you’re asking what I think you’re asking, no?”
“Come on baby.. you’re so sexy.. just piss on me.. piss all over me”
There was no mistaking that. I jumped off his dick like it was on fire.
“OH. MY. GOD. I am NOT doing that! That’s just … that’s so… weird”
He stood up, and tried to hug me. Somehow he convinced me to stay. He stopped talking about urine and focused his mouth on something much more appealing to me: performing oral sex. That was actually probably what convinced me to stay.
Because I was having multiple orgasms, I stopped caring about him asking me to piss on him, but suddenly, I had a new problem.
The twenty some odd drinks I had consumed now needed to come out. I had to pee.
And I made the mistake of telling him.
He gets excited.. and not just a little bit excited. He pins me to the bed and starts thrusting his dick into me as fast and hard as he could. I keep drunkenly whining that I have to pee. We switched positions several times, but every position was some sort of obscure wrestling move that ensured two things: 1. that I couldn’t get up and to the washroom, and 2. that his cock was in me.
The sex isn’t even enjoyable because I have to pee so badly. He keeps throwing me into new positions, like some sort of fuck toy rag doll. I have tears in my eyes. I tell him I can’t hold it any longer. I have to pee right. this. second.
He somehow slides under me and locks my legs and pushes up my ass so that I am now straddling his face. He’s licking and talking:
“Come on baby. Do it. Piss on me. Piss on my face.”
I couldn’t hold it anymore. My bladder exploded. I started peeing with what seemed like the force of a fire hydrant.
Then he opened his mouth.
So the situation went from bad to worse. Not only am I peeing on him, but I’m pissing on his face, and he’s fucking drinking it.
It feels like an eternity. I’m still peeing, but now I’m thinking about what pee tastes like, and I find myself simultaniously gagging.
I manage to break out of position. There is urine everywhere. All over him, the bed, down my legs, on my dress (which had been left on the bed). He leans in for a kiss, I run out of the bedroom.
“Janie!” I yell. “Jaaaaaaaaaaaanie! We have to go. We have to go now!”
I pulled my wet, urine-covered dress back on and yell for Janie again. The living room is empty, Big FN Titties 5 is back at its root menu and I’m covered in my own urine. From Creepshow’s bedroom, I hear the unmistakeable sound of Janie fucking Creepshow.
“I’M GOING!” I yell. Bartender is trying to kiss me with pee-mouth and I take off, leaving my jacket and purse in the living room.
It’s the middle of winter, it’s 5 in the morning, it’s -30 and blowing snow and I’m running down the main street in a pee covered dress and heels, trying desperately to flag down a cab. I turned around to see Janie, a block behind me, with my jacket and purse and sheer confusion on her face. She caught up to me.
“You smell like pee”, Janie says.
“He made me pee on his face!” I yell back. “And why the fuck were you fucking Creepshow??”
Janie shrugs. “I was bored. Why’d you pee on Bartender’s face?”
“I had to pee!”
Both seemed to be reasonable excuses.
The story could have ended there, if not for the fact that Bartender tried to track me down, finally leaving a letter for me at my work. Though I threw it away, it was at least a page long and definitely included something like:
“It’s so relieving to find a young, sexy, open-minded girl like you.”
Relieving eh? He doesn’t even know.
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