Adyguy6970

Hi and welcome, Michael.  I hope you have a great time.  

On 9/22/2018 at 5:26 PM, fannywatcher said:

Watching porn etc,i do find i actually like to see other guys penis becoming aroused,getting bigger and harder...then putting in some sexy girls vagina,or other lovely orifice.Then ejaculating...surely as someone who thinks they are straight,this is just normal,i DONT want to play with it,or have in any of MY not so lovely orifices...ewww!But does it mean i have gay tendencies,or is it that "homo erotica",where watching a sexual act,simply can make YOU feel sexy.A bit like yawning in a crowded room etc..but a bit more extreme.

I think the short answer is 'no.'  Sexuality is much more complicated than that.  For what it's worth I enjoy the penis, be it peeing, ejaculating or just being itself.  However I the thought of embarking on a romantic or sexual relationship with another man, turns my stomach.   

(This is a newly written story which I’ve shared elsewhere too.  Jonah Falcon is an American actor, perhaps best known for owning the world’s biggest functioning penis.  Nine and a half inches long flaccid and thirteen and a half fully erect, with a girth of some eight inches, it is an impressive organ.  Since coming to public attention in a big way in 1999, Jonah has undertaken numerous radio, television and online magazine interviews.  Those interviews have, for entirely understandable reasons, focused in large measure on his sexual prowess and the challenges as well as opportunities which go with having a large penis in the bedroom.  To the best of my knowledge Jonah has shared little of the urological implications of having such a large penis beyond the fact that he doesn’t use urinals and sits to pee when he has to.  That is his right and prerogative.  It has a flip side though to the extent that those who have an interest in the urological side will, in the absence of authoritative information, join up the dots in whatever way stacks up or makes sense to them.  What follows is entirely a work of fiction although it contains some elements which have a basis in fact (no prizes for spotting them) a great deal of conjecture and a splash or two of ‘make believe.’  At present I don’t know whether or not any sequels will follow, but I hope you enjoy it.)

 

Jonah Falcon jumped into the shower and, as soon as the water hit him, he began peeing, lashings of rich, copper coloured pee pouring out of his huge, thick cock, foaming as it hit the cubicle floor and mingling with shower water and the soapy lather generated by the gel as he generously rubbed himself with it.  Ah what blessed relief it was too!

 

That sheer relief was well justified because the last time he’d emptied his bladder had been eleven hours earlier, some three hours before adjourning to bed.  Unlike the miserable, dutiful wees taken by a million or two other New Yorkers at this time of the morning for no better reason than that they didn’t want to get taken short on the Metro or in some broken office elevator, he was doing it simply because he needed and wanted to.  Gradually the torrent pouring out of his penis subsided to a trickle and eventually stopped.  It had been two minutes of utter bliss and he was sorry once it finally came to an end.  Finishing his shower off, Jonah stepped out of the cubicle and towelled off. 

 

This morning he was in a reflective mood and, as he reached for his T-shirt and spandex pants, Jonah considered just how lucky he was to be a young, single man, free to pee as and when he wanted.  Jonah’s rather chaotic upbringing meant that he’d missed out on the sort of systematic toilet training that was the lot, one could almost say the misfortune, of many people.  No one had ever insisted that he go pee last thing before bed at night or first thing in the morning and he’d never been punished or scolded for a wet bed.  As for the question of peeing before long journeys, it had always been left for him to decide.  If he wanted to go he did, if he didn’t he didn’t. This carefree approach wasn’t without its hazards and, even now at twenty, there might be the very occasional pair of soaked pants or wet bed, but such incidents were certainly not frequent – or at the very least rare enough to cause him no great concern.     

 

Always a bit pee shy in public and certainly never one for urinals, Jonah had rather developed a habit of holding it.  Living in New York maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing as genuine public bathrooms, that is ones not attached to bars, eateries or bookshops, were few and far between.  Of the ones that existed, some were so bad that he regarded holding it as infinitely preferable to using them.   

 

If it would have done his employment prospects any good, Jonah could quite truthfully have put on his CV that he’d never needed a hall pass and, in fact, never even gone to the toilet at High School.  Instead, he’d hold it all day, even on those cold winter mornings which challenged most people’s bladders.  On more occasions than a few he was acutely aware of the chill air as it blew through his shorts on the games field, mercilessly tormenting both penis and bladder.  Back home for three, he’d often still not pee until four or five.  After all, a growing young man had other things to do with his penis during that first hour or two of afternoon leisure in his bedroom.  Even when he stayed on to play basketball he’d change and go out to play without peeing, still making it through the game and somehow just lasting until he got home.  Leon, his friend and a fellow basketball player, also frequently played on a full bladder but often wasn’t so lucky, soaking his shorts uncontrollably more times than a few.   

 

Things came to a head for Jonah when he was 18 and in his last year at school.  One day some so called ‘mates’ bet him that he couldn’t drink four bottles of Diet Coke (2 litres in total) during the lunch recess and make it through the afternoon without peeing.  In the event he had the last laugh, manfully holding all afternoon whilst they frantically dashed for the bathrooms between lessons.   On that particular afternoon he did make a dash for the bathroom as soon as he got home, hot pee spurting into his pants before he could get them down. 

 

By the time he left school, Jonah’s holding abilities although not widely known, were certainly noticed by some, Jonah regretfully noting that they tended to be people who took what he regarded as a ‘dirty’ interest in such things.  At that stage he was getting noticed far more widely, less for his pee holding abilities than the size of his cock which was considerable and produced a pronounced bulge in his pants wherever he went.  In fact, the temptation to go out in pants which were a size or so too small for him, was sometimes more than he could resist.  A further additional but unintended consequence of wearing flyless pants a size or two too small was that they meant bathroom visits were an even greater hassle than would otherwise be the case, so they incentivised pee holding even more.    

 

Girls naturally took an interest in him, although it was obvious that more often than not his cock was the main attraction.  There were a few short relationships, some sex – some better than others, and some casual stands.  Some girls were quite up for having a cock his size in their pussies.  Others, initially enthusiastic, lost their enthusiasm as soon as he dropped his pants and they saw just how big it was. 

 

One girlfriend, Susan, had absolutely no fear of his cock and was more than up for it.  What she did fear, though, was his bladder.  It came as something of a shock to Jonah when she demanded that he had to pee before getting into bed with her.  Being told he ‘had’ to pee was unchartered territory for Jonah and he resented it, particularly as he didn’t need to go at the time.  His pleas of “But I don’t need to go” and “But I only went two hours ago” fell on deaf ears.  Susan was quite implacable. 

 

Standing in Susan’s bathroom that first evening, Jonah felt an overwhelming sense of despair and gloom.  He neither wanted nor needed to use the toilet.  It was ten o’clock at night.  Why the fuck would he want to pee at such an hour?  Standing, in the vain hope of making some audible noise, he’d be lucky to pass a dessertspoonful of urine.  Sitting, his preferred – indeed normal - posture and the one acknowledged by medical experts to be most efficient for emptying the male bladder, it might stretch to a tablespoonful – 15ml or so.  With a urethra as long as his, and bladder so well practised at holding, neither was worth the effort. 

 

Frustrated by the sheer futility of attempting to give Susan the peace of mind she craved, Jonah spotted a plastic tumbler lurking behind the sink.  Filling it as quietly as he could from the hot tap, Jonah them emptied the warm water slowly into the toilet to imitate a peeing sound, taking care to hold his cock so that the tip of his penis, particularly the meatus/ pee hole area was thoroughly soaked.  Carefully replacing the beaker, Jonah flushed the toilet and washed his hands.  As he climbed into bed with Susan, the end of his penis still wet with the warm water, he felt a quiet sense of satisfaction.  He repeated this exercise every night he slept with Susan over the next four weeks.  So far as she was concerned he’d done the wee she wanted him to and he got the sex he wanted too.   It was only a small deceit and the wetness at the end of his penis each night surely convinced her that he’d peed.  Doing a pretend wee in exchange for real sex, he felt that he’d really got the better side of the bargain. 

 

One night he went into the bathroom and there was no tumbler.  Still convinced he could pull it off, Jonah quietly wet the end of his penis with warm water, taking the same meticulous care as usual, flushed the toilet and washed his hands.  As he walked into the bedroom the wetness at the end of his penis glistened in the light.   Susan peered up at him from above the duvet, a slightly accusing look in her eyes. 

 

“Jonah, you haven’t peed, have you?  I didn’t hear you pee for a start.”

 

Put on the spot, Jonah blushed slightly, but hoped he could somehow still get away with his little bit of play acting. 

 

“Yes, I have Susan, look.  If you don’t believe me have a feel.”

 

Susan reached out and felt the end of his cock. 

 

“That’s not pee. Jonah, as well you know.  It’s water.” 

 

“Well there’s water in the bathroom – rather a lot of it in fact.  Maybe it got splashed a bit when I was washing.”

 

Susan’s patience all but deserted her.

 

“Stop digging, Jonah.  You were rumbled a fortnight ago.  The bathroom door has got a keyhole you know.   Very clever that trick with the tumbler.  I decided to let you have the benefit of the doubt before removing it and see if you’d still try to trick me into believing you’d peed.”

 

Jonah held his face in his hands.  His little game, innocent enough and designed to meet both their needs, was up. 

 

“Look I’m really, really sorry, Susan.  You’ve every right to be angry but I didn’t set out to deceive you for the sake of it.  Look, I’ll tell it as it is.  Nowadays, depending on what I’m doing I get to pee sometime between five and seven in an evening, by which time I’ve held for ten to twelve hours.  I meet you at eight when you finish work and we get something to eat.  We’re back here for nine thirty and you want to fuck at ten.  There’s no way I can pee a meaningful amount so soon after the last one.”

 

Susan gave him a hard look. 

 

“Most men can.”

 

Jonah found himself on the defensive. 

 

“Well I’m not most men.  Most men can’t hold the way I do.  Look, if you want proof, here it is.”

 

Jonah pointed his penis at Susan and strained.  A teaspoon full of pee flew out of his penis and landed on the duvet before a second hit Susan in the right eye. 

 

“Oi.  Stop that!”

 

“Well you wanted proof and now you’ve got it.  That’s how much pee you’ll get out of me three hours after I’ve been.”

 

Susan wiped the pee out of her eye.

 

“Okay Jonah.  Point taken.  Look you can have one last fuck tonight having proved you can pee after all.  I think we should go our separate ways tomorrow though.  Look, it’s not your fault, it’s me.  I need a guy who can pee properly before sex.”

 

“Why?  If a guy’s hard he’s not going to piss in you.”

 

Susan shook her head. 

 

“Jonah, you’ve not been around as long as I have.  Take it from a woman – an older woman – that some of them can and do.  I just need that bit of reassurance and if that means getting him to drain his main vein before business that’s the way it has to be.  Look, come here.  I’m not really cross – just disappointed.  You’re a bloody good actor though.  Why don’t you enrol at drama school?”

 

Returning to the present, Jonah made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a large mug of milky coffee.  It was a two-pint mug, one a friend had given him for Christmas.  It was six months since he’d finished with Susan but he’d taken her advice and enrolled at drama school.  It wasn’t so bad either.  There were plenty of fit birds there and his package gained him a fair bit of attention.   He’d always been interested in acting but Susan’s words had given him the final push he’d wanted.  Furthermore, this afternoon they were doing some filming which included a pee scene and he’d been picked on, he guessed on account of his cock, to play the part of the guy who peed.  He’d never peed for the camera before and hoped it would not only be a first but a last.  No doubt there would be countless retakes with the director endlessly shouting “Cut.”  Finishing his coffee, Jonah filled his water bottle and put it in his rucksack.  Water was great for maintaining hydration but it was pretty useless as a diuretic – at least in his experience.  No doubt he’d have an extra-large Starbucks at lunchtime and pick up a few cans of that new energy drink.  He wanted to perform on cue, after all. 

 

THE END                    

 

 

 

 

      

 

 

Lucy Pindar anyone?  Or any other Sunday/weekday Sport stunnas?

 

 

(This is a newly written story which I’ve shared elsewhere too and is part of an ongoing series.  I hope you enjoy it.)

 

Archie woke up feeling a little groggy and rubbed his eyes.  Anne, his wife was already awake by his side and listening to the Radio 4 news.  Turning to him, she greeted him with a tender kiss. 

 

“Morning sleepy head!”

 

“Morning darling.  What day is it?  My brain isn’t quite in gear just yet.”

 

Anne gave him another kiss on the lips.

 

“It’s okay Archie.  It’s Monday – our day off.” 

 

“Hmm.  You mean our morning off more like.  No doubt you’ll be shooting off to Drydale straight after lunch and that’ll be the last I’ll see of you until Friday teatime.” 

 

Anne gently ruffled her husband’s hair.

 

“Archie that’s not fair and you know it’s not true.  We’ve had every Monday together since the end of July and you’ve got me all day today.  Okay, the autumn courses start next week but all I’ve got to do this week is go over on Thursday and Friday with Sarah to make sure everything’s ready for next week’s intake.  It’s not until next Monday that I’ll disappear after lunch.”

 

“Can’t you change things so that the ‘Holding for Life’ courses don’t start until the Tuesday morning or something?  This is our weekend – such as it is – for goodness sake.” 

 

Anne gave him a sympathetic look. 

 

“I’ve discussed doing that with Sarah and it would only work if we had a group of fairly local service users who only had to commute an hour – or two at most to get to us.  Furthermore, we give our service users quite a lot of information at the Monday afternoon induction sessions and we think doing it on Tuesday morning then launching straight into the course might overwhelm them somewhat.”

 

“I see.  Are they all local commuters next week, by any chance?”

 

“No.  Sadly not.  We have one local guy but there are at least two girls travelling up from London.  We’ve also got a guy flying over from LA who avoids public toilets (or bathrooms as they call them over there) if he can and most likely won’t have peed for 17 or 18 hours by the time he gets to us.  He’ll be frantic, although probably doing his best not to show it, and I want to get him through induction without him pissing his pants.  It was bad enough when he was only 12 hours away from his apartment.  He’s got a whopper of a cock and when he does piss it’s like Niagara Falls – it just comes out like an unstoppable torrent.” 

 

Archie cast his wife an anxious look.

 

“Anne, can you change the subject?”

 

“Why?”

 

“All this talk of long holds and pissing is making me want to piss.”

 

“Archie, you don’t want to piss – or at least you shouldn’t.  You got up at least twice in the night to my certain knowledge.  You shouldn’t need to go again, slack bladder.  I’ve not been for ten hours and I’m fine.”  

 

“Okay camel bladder.  Well I’m going for a piss.”

 

“No Archie, you’re not.  Come here.  I’m feeling randy and I want your thick hard cock in my pussy.”

 

“But I’ll piss…”

 

“But nothing.  Come here.  Look you can piss inside me if you need to go that badly.  I want your cock here and now while you’ve still got early morning wood.”

 

“But I’ll wet the bed?”

 

“Ssh.  It doesn’t matter – honestly.  We’ll make a mess anyway and what do you think the mattress protector’s for?  Look we can take a shower together afterwards but if you end up giving me a golden shower in the meantime it’s really no problem.”

 

With that, Archie finally relented, took Anne in his arms, slipped his hard cock into her pussy and began pounding.  Within minutes he found himself cumming as she screamed with sheer pleasure.  Although Archie’s erection subsided he had no immediate desire to withdraw.  His bladder and cock still ached with the pent up pee inside him.  Relaxing he started pissing and Anne gasped with pleasure as he released the warm salty liquid into her.  He felt it run out of her and on to the bed but she wasn’t fazed and, though it surprised him, neither was he. 

 

This was an experience which for him, at least, rewrote all the rules about urination.  He recalled his shock, all those years ago when at the Bishop’s selection conference for ordinands he’d been asked the rather impertinent question, “Do you wet the bed?”  His resolute “Certainly not” wasn’t quite the whole truth because even at 21 he wasn’t reliably a hundred percent dry at night.   Finding a girlfriend who was training to be a nurse with a specialist interest in urology who understood and didn’t mind had been a real stroke of luck.  Now as his wife, so many years later, she was actively encouraging to pee in bed.  This was amazing. 

 

At length, Archie withdrew and kissed his wife. 

 

“That was amazing my darling.”

 

Anne playfully ruffled his hair, just as she’d done earlier. 

 

“Come on my darling.  We’re going for a shower.  Now I’ll show you what a real pee’s like!”        

 

THE END  

(This is a new story which I've also posted elsewhere. If you've not already come across it I hope you'll enjoy it.  All constructive feedback is welcome.)  

Anne Glenson made her way through the sliding doors to reception and the receptionist, a girl of about twenty busily engaged in the important business of painting her nails, looked up. 

"Can I help you, madam?"

"Yes, I've come to see Mr Faulkner. It's Mrs Glenson - Anne Glenson - by the way."

"I'll just see if he's free."

Picking up the phone, the girl continued, "Mike, I've a got a Mrs Glenson to see you. Can I send her through?"

Anne heard what she thought sounded faintly like a muffled groan followed by "Send her through."

The girl looked up. 

"Yes. Mr Faulkner's free to see you. He's through the door on the right there, just down the corridor."

"Thank you." 

Anne knocked loudly on the door. 

"Come in!"

Mike Faulkner got up from his desk and extended a slightly clammy hand in welcome.

"Good afternoon - Mrs Glenson I believe. Do take a seat. Can I get Tracy to bring you some tea or coffee?"

Anne sat down.

"No thank you. I've got some water on me. It's far better for maintaining hydration. Anyhow, I'm sure you must be busy Mr Faulkner, so I'll cut to the chase and get straight to the point. I've come about the grant application which my colleague and I submitted some time ago. Has your committee had time to consider it?"

Mr Faulkner reached for a file. 

"Ah yes, the application from Holding for Life. I see you're listed as one of the directors, along with a Miss Sarah Worthington."

"Yes that's correct."

"I just need to check a few personal details with you if that's alright Mrs Glenson?"

"Yes of course."

"Full name."

"Anne Maureen Elizabeth Glenson."

"Date of birth."

"10th April 1975."

"Marital situation?"

"Married."

"And your address?"

"The Rectory, Church Lane, Browndale."

Mr Faulkner beamed. 

"Oh, lucky you. I wish I lived in a splendid old rectory. The ones I see advertised in Country World are such glorious old piles." 

Anne frowned.

"Mr Faulkner, it's a glorious old Georgian rectory. It's a brutally functional 1960s rectory - the meanest and cheapest the diocese could come up with too. Strange though it may seem my husband, Fr Archie Glenson, just happens to be the rector." 

"I'm sorry Mrs Glenson. It was an honest mistake on my part - I just assumed..."

"You're not the first and I doubt you'll be the last. Now if we could please focus on my grant application as I haven't got all evening. My husband needs me to serve at Benediction at six thirty, after which I've got to do my domestic goddess bit and prepare supper for the deanery synod."

"Yes of course, Mrs Glenson. A couple of committee members raised slight concerns about what you do at Holding for Life. They seemed to think there was some slightly - how shall I put it - kinky stuff - going off there."

Anne intentionally crossed and re-crossed her legs. Not for nothing had she decided to don a slightly tight pair or jeans for this interview. She needed to pee pretty badly, having not released her bladder for over nine hours, but certainly wasn't desperately uncomfortable by any means. 

"Such as?"

"Well it's rumoured that you make your clients - or is it service users - hold their pee in all day at your courses. Is that correct?" 

Anne crossed her legs yet again, not because she had to but for effect. 

"Mr Faulkner, Miss Worthington and I are both highly qualified urology nurses who maintain current registrations. We both hold current DBS clearances and have all the required safeguarding certificates. With regard to the first point, we are caring, compassionate, professional people. We certainly do not force our service users to hold their pee all day. Yes, there are some toilet restrictions and for good reason, but much of the work we do with clients as you call them, involves Kegel exercises which are about strengthening sphincter muscles by peeing in a controlled way. Our courses are designed to empower people and give them options so that they don't have to panic and think about tracking down a toilet as soon as the need to pee arises.  My colleagues and I certainly don't demand anything from our service users of which we ourselves are not more than capable."

"I'm sure you don't, Mrs Glenson. I have heard a rumour though that you make some use of humiliation on your courses. Is that correct?"

Anne coughed, gave Mr Faulkner a slightly disdainful look, and took a swig from her water bottle. Noticing that Mike Faulkner's right hand had slipped beneath his desk and he'd begun to stroke himself, she couldn't resist crossing and re-crossing her legs yet again. 

"Mr Faulkner, many - though not all - of our service users are high profile people. Not unnaturally some of them present with challenging attitudes and at any one time we have service users who regard our courses as jolly japes. If they are to derive a long-term positive benefit from coming on our courses, such attitudes have to be countered robustly and, if we have to wipe smirks off a few faces, so be it. We do not take people on our courses who are medically incontinent but we rely on service users to be honest with us about any ongoing health conditions, including bedwetting. If a service user hasn't been honest with us and if they don't abide by the rules of the course they are required to account for it. That's why all beds are checked by matron every morning and we have adjudication in a group setting after breakfast. By the way, we have a zero-tolerance policy on masturbation, Mr Faulkner! Having worked extensively in urology, Sarah and I have seen more than enough of its unhelpful and counter-productive effects."

Mr Faulkner quickly withdrew his hand from his crotch area.

"Quite Mrs Glenson. Now turning to your grant application, I see that you applied for fifty five thousand pounds towards the repair of a gymnasium roof."

"That's correct. My colleague and I have both sunk a lot of our own money into the venture but, even taking into account income from service users, we're stretched to find money for re-roofing the old gymnasium to a standard which will keep it watertight for the next 20 years. Our premises are based in an old secondary modern school which County Hall wanted to dispose of cheaply and you could say that fabric was an ongoing challenge." 

"Hmm. As a matter of interest, what do you charge your service users?"

"Usually two thousand pounds. That covers an intensive weekday course with induction on a Monday afternoon followed by three and a half days of serious work followed by the award of certificates after lunch on a Friday."

"I see. Have you thought of increasing your fees?"

"We keep them under review but we think two thousand is a fair fee to charge most users at present. Part of it goes towards a bursary fund for service users who would benefit from attending a Holding for Life course but cannot afford to pay or require some level of subsidy."

Mr Faulkner nodded. 

"I see, Mrs Glenson. Clearly your operation is run in a responsible way. Despite the reservations expressed by some committee members we are happy to award you fifty thousand."

"Only fifty? We asked for fifty five." 

"I know, but that's our decision and we must abide by it. Mrs Glenson, I hope it's not an impertinence but I've noticed you crossing your legs and moving about quite a bit. You don't need to pee by any chance?"

Anne smiled. 

"No more than anyone else who hasn't peed since seven this morning! Don't worry, I need to go but it's not an emergency." 

Mr Faulkner could barely contain himself.

"Mrs Glenson, you must be bursting. I know it's a big ask but I've never seen a lady pee. Would you be willing to pee for me? I keep a container - an empty pickle jar - in here just in case of emergencies. Here it is. One of the joys of working in offices shared with other organisations is that the loo's always occupied."

Anne smiled broadly. 

"I'd be more than happy to oblige Mr Faulkner."

Anne, deftly removed her dark blue stone washed jeans and, leaving her white maxi panties on, squatted over the pickle jar. She peed a little hesitantly at first but her stream soon became a strong one and Mike Faulkner watched, amazed, as she completely filled the litre sized jar, almost overflowing it. Although in middle age they occurred less readily than as a young man, he found himself developing an erection of a kind he'd not experienced for at least a decade. Without the aid of any kind of manual stimulation, he found himself ejaculating uncontrollably into his underpants, an experience he'd not met with since his twenties. Anne finished as abruptly as she started, got up and handed the jar to him. Carefully removing her pee stained panties she tossed them in his direction before slipping back into her jeans and zipping them up with the same ease that she'd removed them. 

"You may as well keep those knickers as a little souvenir, Mr Faulkner. I'm sure you'll find a use for them. By the way, I look forward to receiving the cheque for sixty thousand by Tuesday's post at the latest."

Mr Faulkner looked bemused. 

"Sixty thousand? I thought we'd settled on fifty."

A broad grin crossed Anne's face. 

"My dear Mr Faulkner, we settled on nothing. I applied for fifty five thousand and you offered me fifty. Now I'm sure you wouldn't like your interest in women peeing to become public knowledge, would you? It would be so embarrassing, wouldn't it, especially for a charity trustee?"

Mr Faulkner went pale. 

"You're not try to blackmail me, Mrs Glenson, are you?" 

"No of course not. That's such a horrible word, don't you think? Let's just call it incentivising discretion, shall we? That extra ten thousand will fund five places for services users who wouldn't otherwise be able to attend. Look, if it makes a bitter pill any sweeter, I'm willing to offer you a free place on one of our courses."

Mike Faulkner knew he wasn't going to get out of this one easily. How could he have been so foolish as to walk into such a trap? 

"Mrs Glenson, I'll speak to the committee and see what I can do. Thanks for the offer of a place on one of your courses but I'm not sure whether it's really me."

Anne smiled.

"Sixty thousand by Tuesday's post, Mr Faulkner. You can send it to the rectory by courier or one of the signed for delivery services if you like. Anyhow, I must get a move on or Archie will wonder where I am. It's a pleasure doing business with you."

With that, she turned and took her leave. 

Two hours later, Mike Faulkner pushed the door of Browndale Church open. The air was thick with a haze of incense, making him cough. As he struggled to get his bearings he was greeted by a genial priest in a long, Roman-style cassock, who'd been making his way towards the door.

"Good evening, sir. If it's Benediction you've come for, I'm afraid we finished five minutes ago."

Mike Faulkner coughed again. The incense was really affecting his throat.

"No I've not come for the service. Are you Fr Archie by any chance?"

"Yes. How can I help you?"

"Fr Archie, it's really your wife that I was hoping to see - on an item of business."

Fr Archie chuckled. 

"Well the last time I saw her she was in the vestry, just by the tower arch there, although she may have taken the thurible outside to empty. Got to return the contents to their native earth you know." 

Mike cleared his throat.

"Thanks Father. This doesn't seem like normal C of E though."

Fr Archie laughed.

"We don't do normal Cof E here and, as for my wife, she's certainly not normal! 

Ah, speak of the wife, here she is. "Anne, there's a gentleman here to see you. I'll leave you two in peace. Remember to lock up when you've finished and don't forget the deanery synod supper at eight, darling."

Anne beamed at her husband as he took his leave. 

"How could I forget darling? Praise God for supermarket cocktail sausages, ready made dips and mini scotch eggs."

Leading Mike into the vestry, Anne eased the girdle from her waist and, with the slick effortlessness he'd seen earlier, removed her server's alb to reveal the same top and jeans that she'd worn earlier in his office. Turning to him, she gave Mike a smile he'd earlier learned to mistrust. 

"Well this a surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure?"

"It's about our discussion earlier..."

"I hope you haven't come to tell me that the sixty thousand isn't going to be forthcoming." 

"No not at all. I doubt the committee will agree to more than fifty but I can find the remaining ten thousand out of my own pocket. After all, I think it's a price worth paying in view of the alternative."

"Good. I'm so glad we understand one another, Mr Faulkner. Was there anything else?" 

"Yes, it's about your kind offer of a free place on one of your courses. I've been thinking and I'd like to take it up."

Anne hugged him and the smell of the incense which clung to her clothes, nearly caused him to pass out.

"Splendid! You won't regret it. As it happens I have a place available for the course starting Monday 1st October. If I get my sixty thousand by Tuesday I'll email or post you all the details including the medical form and the disclaimer which we ask all service users to complete and sign. By the way, I think we can afford to drop the formalities. From now on you can call me Anne if I can call you Mike."

"I'm happy with that. Good night Mrs Glenson - I mean Anne."

"Good night Mike! Look forward to seeing you on the 1st October."

Mike walked out into the gathering gloom of the September evening sky, not quite knowing what he'd let himself in for but hoping that it wouldn't be too bad.

THE END

How about Holly Willoughby?    According to this report she doesn't exactly have a strong bladder:

https://metro.co.uk/2018/05/30/holly-willoughbys-weak-bladder-means-nearly-pees-thanks-phillip-schofield-7591348/

 

I can pee with a hardon but I won't say it's easy because it isn't.  

So far as porn stars are concerned, I'm sure there are a lot of talented performers including guys who can pee when hard as a rock and/or pee/hold to order.  However I think it's important to remember where adult films are concerned there are a lot of smoke and mirrors.  What you see might not be what actually happened or different components of a scene may have been filmed over the course of a day or even longer.  

 

Hi and a somewhat belated welcome to the club, Steven.  My attendance at this forum tends to be a little erratic so I can only apologise for not geeting you before.  I'm a bit older than you and, if I'm honest, I can't remember a time when I wasn't animated by pee.  You could say it was a lifelong interest although the dynamics have changed slightly over the years.  Anyhow, I hope you have a super time.  Take time to explore the forum and enjoy it.  I'm certainly looking forward to enjoying your contributions.  

Hi and welcome.  You've come to absolutely the right place.  We're a very friendly bunch here and I'm sure you'll find plenty to interest you.  

A slightly belated hello and welcome.  I hope you have a great time here.  

Very nice indeed.  The first wee of the day certainly takes a lot of beating!

Very nice.  How long had you held it?  8 hour? 9 or more?

Wow Alfresco - what a night!  I'm thinking I probably should relocate to Blackpool.  When they're open are the toilets okay or are they pretty grim?  A few years ago I came across a particularly grotty toilet block at Great Yarmouth but I've since come across others in Cleethorpes which are close contenders for not being the sort of facilities you'd wish to use unless it was a real emergency.  

Over the weekend I had a rare sighting too.  I was on a bus in rural Lincolnshire when we passed a car, doors open, and a guy peeing for all he was worth into a hedgerow.  If my memory serves me, he had friends/family with him and most likely wasn't the only one who'd stopped off for a pee.  

This is most interesting.  Such a laid back family!

Hi and welcome, Bacardi.  As you've not doubt already discovered, we're a very friendly bunch and there's nothing to be anxious about.  I look forward to enjoying your contributions and learning about your experiences.   

Hi and welcome, Luke.  It's good to see London represented.  I look forward to seeing you around.

7 minutes ago, spywareonya said:

Handyman skills can be developed ihihihihihih

I am now a moderately great handywoman ahahahahahahaha

I'll know who to call on then if I ever get a blocked toilet!

Hi blob.  Good to see you around again.  I wish I had your handyman skills!  Somehow I think the lady of the house did what she did out of desperation.  Wish I'd been there though.  

Hi and welcome, Holly.  We're a friendly bunch here.  I look forward to your contributions and to seeing you around.  

7 hours ago, steve25805 said:

This thread asks, "What happens to our members?"

Well I can't speak for anyone else, but here's what happens to MY member:-

I get horny, it gets hard.

I knock one out, and it goes soft again.

I know what you mean Steve, though in my case the getting hard bit is a increasingly a fond memory!

1 minute ago, spywareonya said:

I studied this subject very seriously

also red dyed hair were cosnsidered alongside it, guess which coulours are my hair ahahahaah

 

Green and red?

9 hours ago, spywareonya said:

this could be a quote from my personal life-bible!!!😍

 

"Not having them" also saves a woman dignity by keeping her the slut she got the god-given right to be!!!!

You may be interested to know that when panties were first invented in the 19th Century they were regarded as a suspect garment worn by ladies of the night and women of easy virtue.  Only gradually did they become accepted as a respectable item of clothing.

I think it's important to remember from a historical perspective that panties are actually a modern invention which go back no further than the mid 19th Century.  For centuries women managed without and, it has to be admitted, that not having them on could well save valuable seconds in an emergency.