Brutus

I've always valued input and wisdom from elders. 

I have two questions for anyone past their mid-thirties, particularly those who are into their 50's and beyond (such as @steve25805, or @Dr.P for example.)

1. What do you regret doing or not doing in your youth?

2. What do you currently see young people in their 20's doing or not doing that you now know from life experience is a terrible waste of precious time?

Thanks in advance to all who weigh in.

MJ's Story

When I was nineteen, I joined a group of mercenaries for hire to take down a diplomat, whose name I won't mention, but who was rising in the ranks and shaping up to become the nation's new dictator and continue a reign of terror on our people. In my country there is not much to do and this job was good money that my family needed. The mercs had taken an abandoned farm to use as their base of operations but it was still vulnerable and needed patrolled since they had enemies. There was this one woman there, Grace, Middle-Eastern looking with a French accent. She was a high-ranking enforcer and looked like it, quite intimidating, at about 5'10'' and thick solid body, wearing tight black cargo pants, long sleeve tactical shirt and boots. Her face was gorgeous, with well defined features, a scar on her cheek with a tattoo over it and the most intense eyes. Her black hair was a braided Mohawk that hanged a few inches down her back. I'd never seen a woman anything like her before.

During my initial training, they had me patrolling the perimeter of our base when I decided to wander further out to a secluded shed so I could be alone for a while and think. I was sitting on the ground behind it when I heard footsteps approaching and figured someone had come looking for me to get back on patrol. Right before I stood up I peeked through the window opening above me and saw Grace stepping inside. She leaned her MP5 against the wall and started undoing her belt and then I knew I was about to see something memorable. Her belt buckle made a loud snap when she released it and then she quickly pushed her tight pants down and her tiny black thong flung out from her ass. It was by far the sexiest ass I'd seen, big and so well rounded, the olive skin so smooth and vibrant. She bent forward into a slight squat, still mostly standing and I could see her big meaty labia, fully shaved and then a noisy, violent stream of piss immediately started rushing out and pounding the floor of the shed. A puddle was quickly spreading out and soaking into the rotted wood. It was so strong that I could see splashes wetting some old table next to the opening I was looking through, five feet behind her. And the sound...it was so fucking loud, you could've heard her pissing from thirty yards away.

She squatted a little further and then her stream got stronger and her brown asshole ballooned outward as she was going. I kept staring and probably didn't blink once while watching this beast of a woman taking this massive piss. Just when she seemed to be done, she exhaled, bent over deeper and exploded another hard loud stream that came out of her at a high enough arch to nearly spray me right on the face, barely missing me and splashed the wall inside just inches below me. After a few seconds, Grace was done, grabbed her labia with her bare hand and tugged on them pretty hard to shake the drips off. Then she pulled her thong and pants back up, grabbed her gun and as soon as she hung it around her neck, my foot knocked over a metal bucket next to me and she whipped around, aimed in my direction and yelled to come out. When she saw me, she didn't say anything, lowered her gun and just stared at my erection bulging in my pants for a moment, knowing I'd seen everything. Then she just walked away.

Late that night, Grace made her way to the room I was in and relieved the guy on watch. I was nervous and thought she might get violent or something but she came in, closed the door and said “Did you see something you liked today?” I nodded yes and she looked at me with those killer eyes, took her MP5 off again and laid it on the floor. I was still confused until she reached down and started taking her boots off. Her feet were so pretty, then she released her belt again, lowering her pants. My heart was beating into my ears as she approached with her captivating bottom half naked, pushed me down and climbed onto me. I could smell her sweat and pussy as she unzipped my pants and shoved my cock deep inside of her, and it was so wet and warm, tight as a vice. She covered my mouth and started fucking me hard and fast, the bed was creaking loudly and I was almost dizzy with excitement as the weight of her large fit body slammed into me like a piston. She was so wet I heard her juices sloshing with each thrust. As little stamina I had, she managed to come a few seconds before me, her eyes rolled back and I saw the veins in her neck as her body shook with an orgasm. Then I came in her and she kept grinding so hard I almost passed out. Damn she was strong.

After, we were laying still. Grace was still on top of me, and we were breathing like Olympians after a quarter mile sprint. Her sweat dripped on my face as she ran her long tongue along my cheek. I could feel her heart beating as hard as mine. She climbed off and walked over to the corner of the room, making sure I was watching. Then she spread out in a wider stance, leaned her hips forward a bit and pissed a hard golden gush all over an old open toy chest. Her stream soaked into the stuffed animals and splashed up along the wall, until she pulled up on her pussy and arched it to spray the wardrobe cabinet next to the chest. I was smiling like a little kid watching this magnificent female specimen be her nasty, liberated self. Grace finished, slapped her pussy, put her clothes back on and grabbed her gun. She looked at me with those eyes and said, “Say one word to anyone, I'll fucking kill you.” And that was the only time we shared each other. My cock and pelvis were sore the next day from her pounding. She was soon promoted to lieutenant and was always busy heading operations after that. I'm no longer with that group but what a beautiful night that was. Ahh, my Gracie...

Johnny's Story

I remember in my teens fully realizing that my mom is a very attractive woman. No incest urges or anything like that, just acknowledging that she's quite a head-turner. Think of the actress Julianne Moore with blue eyes and a more curvy build and you pretty much know what my mom looks like. She's close to fifty now and still gets plenty of looks from guys of all ages so you can imagine when she was in her prime. I used to wonder if all those guys would still be so attracted to her if they'd heard her loud peeing every day and had the misfortune of walking into the bathroom and meeting her piss floating in the toilet that she forgot to flush. By her own admission she's forgetful and there have been numerous occasions since I was little that I went into the bathroom and there was her dark-yellow, foul-smelling pee left behind, with a wad of tissue soaking in the bowl. If I ran into her morning surprise, I could smell it as soon as I stepped in the bathroom. So basically I've seen a lot of my mother's pee. When I was a kid, I asked her why it's always so yellow and smelly and she chuckled, telling me that she hated drinking water and knew how bad it often looked.

So why all the talk of pee anyway? It's not necessarily an exciting topic for most people. The point of the first paragraph is to provide contrast, of me not really being affected one way or the other by women peeing, to the day I was affected, for worse. It happened when I was ten and came home from soccer practice after school one day, got to my room and found my goldfish Teddy, dead in his tank. My Uncle Pete had given him to me as a birthday gift four years prior, since he knew I was into sea creatures. Teddy was just floating motionless. I started crying and went downstairs to tell my mom. She was in the kitchen starting dinner and got concerned seeing my tears. The look on her face instantly straightened when I told her that Teddy was dead. She never really cared for him, I think because of the rocky relationship with her brother. She was always the smart one, with her head on straight. Uncle Pete on the other hand, was the “screw up” of the family according to her, the drifter who hopped from place to place and couldn't hold a job. She was embarrassed by him, so anything he gave me was tainted in her mind, a blemish on her successful life. 

She usually cuddled me whenever I was upset, but not this time. She rolled her eyes and said “Oh Johnny...you and that damn fish” as she sipped her wine and walked past me up to my room. I followed her and she went to grab Teddy from his tank. I wanted to bury him outside but she refused, saying that I wasn't messing up her pretty yard. Her next words were “It's going down the toilet, I need to pee anyway.” I couldn't believe that was the primary thing on her mind. It felt wrong but I asked her to at least flush him first. She didn't reply and strolled out of my room, down the hall to the bathroom with Teddy hanging from her fingertips. After she went in, I approached and stood by the door, hoping I'd hear the toilet washing him away before anything else and that she wasn't actually gonna pee on him as she seemed to intend. But what did I hear? Her moaning in pleasure as the familiar sound of her hard stream sprayed into the toilet. I told myself no, no she just laid him on the sink first and would lay him in clean water after flushing her pee. As usual, her stream was strong and noisy as the seconds passed, but then she moaned again and her pee started raging much harder like a water pipe busted open. I'd never, ever heard her gush that damn hard. She was completely flooding, like it was her first pee since morning or something. Then finally after at least twenty agonizing seconds, she was done.

She flushed and came out sighing in relief, with this satisfied look on her face. I asked her why she peed on Teddy first and she said to me, “Well, you wouldn't know I did if you hadn't been standing right here like a little pervert listening to me while I'm taking a piss.” Then she told me to get ready for dinner and set the table, and that she was through discussing “Eddie.” Yeah that's what she called him. She went back down to the kitchen and I never mentioned him again, not even to my dad. I'm grown and over it now but still, I just wish she hadn't acted like such a...bitch about it. To this day, when I sometimes hear my girlfriend Sara peeing, it reminds me of the day I saw the colder side of my mother for the first time. It's automatic. I just imagine myself as Teddy, laying in the toilet, maybe still barely alive, looking up at a huge human ass and pussy seated right above, spraying all over me. Thing is though, it's weird because there is somehow a part of me that has always liked hearing Sara peeing. It's so screwed up.

Andrew's Story

In my senior year of high school, I had this hottie, Mrs. Lewis for art class. From day one, while she was taking roll call for the first time, many eyes were glued to her. I loved how her long black hair contrasted with her rather pale skin. It gave her a bold look. At the time she was around thirty years old and let me tell you, this woman had the sexiest damn legs ever. They were incredible, exquisite and she showed them off in short skirts and high heels proudly during the warm months. I also loved when she stood at her canvas to demonstrate, showing her big solid shaped ass to us, visible thong line at the waist and everything. It was obvious she was proud of her body. A few guys joked that she should've let us sketch her in a bikini as a project and she didn't seem offended at all! I'll never forget though, the day she leaned across the table I was sitting at to help the kid across from me, and her left breast touched my hand! She was well-endowed and it felt so soft and warm. It was only for maybe three seconds but that was the hottest three seconds of my life. The girl next to me saw what was happening and laughed. Mrs. Lewis realized and then stood up, blushing in a subtle mix of excited embarrassment.

I soon realized that she usually used the designated staff restroom down the hall after class. It was far enough away from other staff that she had it to herself pretty much. I always wondered how she peed, but the noisy crowded halls after class never allowed me to hear her. Then one day that all changed when I broke my ankle a few months into the school year and was on crutches for six weeks. During that time, I was allowed to be a few minutes late to classes. So one day, the halls had mostly cleared by the time I'd stored my art supplies and was heading out. Mrs. Lewis had just left and I wasn't far behind. As I entered the now quiet hallway, I saw her turn the corner toward the restroom and realized that it was my chance to finally hear her peeing. When I got to the corner, I could hear her heels in the restroom fairly well as she was getting into position, and then, holy SHIT did that woman open up. That sound of her stream gave me a deep physical reaction. My skin flushed. My blood got hot. It was so strong and sexy and just consumed me. I'd heard peeing here and there over the years leaking from restrooms, even my sister, her friends, and my mom but Mrs. Lewis was in a league of her own. She was the first woman I heard piss so hard that it actually made me feel both emasculated and turned on. When you're into women peeing and hear one let loose like that for the first time, it's a profound experience.

After about a solid ten seconds of a thunderous stream, she flushed and came out, smiling at me and asking if I needed a hand. Luckily she didn't suspect me listening since I had crutches. I told her I was fine and then she went back to her classroom, which was empty that period. As I turned to continue down the hall to my next class, I realized she didn't bother to lock the restroom door with her key and a sudden urge to sneak inside came over me. Like a fly heading toward light, I was drawn to where she'd just released her magnificent flood. I walked in and instantly smelled that feminine aroma of pussy in the air that always lingers after a female ass was on the toilet. But Mrs. Lewis's ass couldn't have been on the toilet, since the seat was clearly splashed toward the rear. She was a hover queen like many women, and a perpetrator of the spray that often results. Her wet yellow drips were easy to see against the shiny white finish on the seat. My breaths were rapid with excitement at being on the scene of where her most intimate area was exposed just moments earlier. I leaned my crutches against the sink and carefully knelt down. What the hell was I thinking? I don't know but I couldn't resist, and pressed my tongue to the cold surface, letting her salty nectar tingle my taste buds. I licked every drop and had the hardest erection of my life. It actually tasted rather pleasant. The aftertaste lasted hours sometimes, still in my mouth while I laid in my room at home, studying.

For the entire time I was on crutches, I listened from the hall as Mrs. Lewis took her loud healthy piss, and went in after her since she never bothered locking the door after coming out. Sometimes it had a sibilant sound, other times it was a jackhammer of a stream, but every single time she went in there, she went feral on that toilet and produced a beautiful strong flow. Never washed her hands either, her routine was always pee, wipe, flush, exit. I can't decide if the sound of her stream was more exciting, or the gold mess she left on the seat for me. Not once did I go in there and not see the clear evidence of her visit. It ranged from a barely visible light sprinkle on a small area, to a literal mad explosion of a stream that covered every inch of the seat. She never cleaned up after herself, confidently leaving it for someone else to deal with. She was so nice in every other way, but when it came to her toilet manners, she didn't give half a shit. And not once did I let her careless seat messes go to waste. I tasted Mrs. Lewis's fresh piss every single day for six straight weeks and somehow managed to never get caught going in or coming out. I even remember that she tasted different for a few days, probably due to hormone changes from her period. Damn, what a thrill that was...It felt amazing sitting in her class for the rest of the year knowing that I'd tasted her pee, so many times!

1 hour ago, Riley said:

I didn't do it..

I don't know why I didn't. Whether it was a fear of what I would do to people here or a fear of the other side. I don't know

Part of me feels like a coward. Like I wasn't brave enough to do it. 

I'm currently laying in the grass in the park just staring at the sky. There's a light breeze flowing through my hair and a smell of freshly mowed grass. I'm listening to the song wait for it from Hamilton. Part of me is glad that I'm able to experience this, while the other feels like this is stolen time that I don't deserve. 

I'm sorry I dragged everyone into this. You all don't deserve to have to deal with my issues and I'm really sorry. But thank you for the kind words. 

While laying here. It does make me realize how beautiful the world is

 

 

Riley, seeing you still here brightened my evening just now. I was thinking about you. I sent you a pm earlier and hope we can talk more. And I hope you'll stick around and let us all help you see in yourself what we see in you.

@Riley I hope you are still there reading replies. What you believe about yourself is WRONG. I've had problems with believing myself to be a burden to people as well and I realized that it was my own negative mind. Whatever hell you are going through right now is temporary. It will pass. The people around you that are making you feel this way are not seeing what a gift you are. Listen to everyone here. You are an intelligent and wonderful person and the beauty of who you are shines when you post here. You are the kind of woman that most men want to love, but can't find. You can overcome your insecurities and struggles and we can help you. You have so much to give to the world and we've all seen a peak of that here. Talk to us. If you are still there, please reply. Say something.

(I won't indicate 'short' in parentheses anymore. The purpose of doing so was to communicate that these weren't my typical long-winded stories. I'd guess most who've been reading these know by now that a person's name in the title is one of my shorts.)

Rick's Story

Ms. Russo has lived next to us my whole life, very sweet lady. Mr. Russo died about twelve years ago and she never remarried. She has a really nice flower garden in her yard, especially the cluster of daffodils that she told me are symbols of memory and that they represent her husband. When I was seventeen, she paid me to do some work on her porch one summer, since I was handy. The job also required me to get underneath it to reinforce the wooden supports. After the first day working on it, I gathered my tools and left them in a bucket under the porch, ready for me to continue the next day. That night a few hours later, I realized that I had left my phone under their as well. It was about nine o'clock and dusk but I didn't need to bother her so I just went into her yard and crawled under the porch to look around for my phone, which was hard to see and further back than I remembered. I felt around and found it a few seconds later.

Then I heard over the sound of crickets in the distance, what sounded like a woman giggling. A few seconds later, while I was still deep under the two foot tall space, two women had sneaked into Ms. Russo's yard and were standing close to the opening. I had removed the porch skirt earlier that day so I had a clear view of two nice pair of unknown female legs from the knee down, both wearing flip flops. Just as I was about to come forward and alert them, one of them approached, turned around and carelessly stood on some of the fragile daffodils, which were at the end of their bloom and dying. She squatted down and I saw my first naked female ass, two big pale cheeks some three feet ahead of me. They were a perfect rounded shape and an overwhelming sexy sight that had me tingling all over. The heels of her feet were lifted, with all of her weight on her toes. Her pink asshole ballooned outward and a huge noisy torrent of yellow piss raged out all over the daffodils that were still standing. They were no match for such a brute force stream and instantly collapsed, getting smashed into the soil and flooded under her relentless violation.

A puddle began to rise from the dirt and trailed back under the porch right toward me and the smell of it was really strong. More pee was running across her cheeks and dripping down. Both women were giggling. I remember smelling her asshole breathing as it was winking in and out and the last few drips fell. She stood up and stepped aside, and the other woman quickly took her place, stepping on the same crushed flowers. She squatted down facing me and her pussy was staring right at me, with her shorts scrunched at her knees and thong pulled to the side, which made me realize that the first one didn't have any underwear on. This woman was shaven and had uneven labia that looked kinda wrinkled. I found them beautiful. She started to trickle for a few seconds, then exploded a tyrant of a stream that further pummeled the daffodils hard enough to break some of the leaves off and wash them under the porch. The puddle from the first woman that had partially made it's way to me was now growing again and trailed past my left arm, barely missing it. She was pissing even harder than her friend did and being that she was facing me, the sharp hissing of her stream echoed into the confined area all around under the porch and was almost deafening.

It finally occurred to me that I could be recording this, so I quickly opened the camera on my phone before she finished. I just barely caught the final few seconds of her thick stream bursting forward. I focused on the flowers as they were now crushed into a wet, beaten mess. Then I panned up to catch a shot of her pussy lips flapping as she shook her hips side to side before moving her thong back in place. Then she stood up and they both ran off, and I crawled out. No clue who they were. The next day, Ms. Russo was upset when she saw her flowers in ruin. I acted surprised out of guilt, because I could've scared those women away before they did anything, but I chose to stay quiet and watch. I did tell her that it smelled like pee and she insisted that it wouldn't be an issue. For the next few days that I worked, the hot ground under her porch stank of piss.

When the daffodils went into bloom in the spring of the following year, the ones in that spot didn't grow. Ms. Russo was heartbroken seeing that empty space among the others, the symbol of her beloved husband tarnished. When fall came six months later, she dug up the bulbs and planted new ones. In the spring that followed, still nothing grew. Those women literally ruined an old lady's perfect garden with their piss. Five years after watching them that night, I still often watch that eight seconds of film I captured. Ms. Russo, now seventy-eight years old, still plants new bulbs in that spot every fall, and still...no daffodils grow there when spring comes.