Poetry in Motion

[Brutus 2,110]

Poetry in Motion

 

(A guy meets a group of fellow fetishists for a memorable night of peeing antics.)

 

There I was at the airport, soon to board a plane and that's when my nerves made me question everything. What the hell I was doing, having taken her up on the invitation to meet an exclusive group of fetishists for “pee fun” as she described it. Who was she? Who was Gold Poetry? The naughty tales and poems she posted were always a joy to read but was it even really a woman I'd spent seven months getting close to via private messaging on the forum? Was it a guy pretending, and planning something ill, maybe to murder me? You can never be sure with online interaction but my hunger to indulge the fetish won the struggle. Three hours later, I was in the city (not saying where). She told me she'd have a guy standing in the airport with a sign for Bill Henderson, a random code name she made up. I saw the sign, approached and told him who sent me. He introduced himself as JP and drove me to a nearby hotel, with a room paid for in advance. He told me the gathering already began and I'd be late but to be ready by eight o'clock that evening, wearing black slacks and white casual buttoned shirt. It felt like being part of an undercover operation. The decision to continue wasn't easy and I agonized over quitting while I still could.

At eight I went outside and JP drove me to an unassuming building on a busy street with some shopping stores and restaurants around. The fresh scenery was overwhelming as we walked down an alley to a door. Inside it seemed to just be a storage facility with old restaurant appliances. I followed him down to the basement area, to an underground corridor. The sound of music thumping in the distance grew louder as we approached another door. This place was well hidden. When we went inside, it a was an energetic loft looking club with a bar to the left, tables to the right and a big stage straight ahead about four feet high, with a DJ booth at the back of it on a raised platform. There were also four circular platforms near each corner of the club, about six feet high, each one with female dancers, having beautiful toned physiques and wearing monster masks, tight black leather jackets, high heeled boots and only a thong on their bottom half. At first glance, it appeared to be a small, but otherwise normal dance club, as it was crowded with maybe one hundred people, many of whom were on the dance floor, some having a drink at the bar, some at the tables, others standing around talking. The atmosphere was subdued and with oscillating spotlights hanging from a rig on the ceiling, giving the place blue and orange accent. All of the men wore black slacks and white shirts. Now I knew why Poetry told me to wear the same. The women all had short skirts and high heels, with causal buttoned shirts similar to what the men wore, but of varying colors.

I walked over to the bar and was met by Daisy, a pretty brunette with her hair tied in a bun, wearing stylish red-framed glasses. She was dressed like the other women, with the exception of being topless. Her smile was contagious enough to pull my eyes from her breasts as she prepared me a drink, accurately guessing I was a wine man. “On the house, new guy!” she said while handing it to me, along with a shiny gold metal crown, telling me to wear it so everyone could see I was new. The worries of being led to my slaughter were gone and I was enjoying the energy. I asked her where Gold Poetry was. She smiled and told me, “Relax honey, she knows you're here.” The reassurance warmed me up and I turned around to observe the place more. A few minutes later, the DJ, also in a monster mask, yelled through his mic, “Piss Queens everybodyyy!!” Everyone cheered, which confused me until the lights focused on the four platform dancers. In unison, they all pulled their underwear off and threw them onto the dance floor, one of which landed right next to me. I picked it up and it was damp with fresh discharge.

I looked up and saw them stand still and begin pissing down to the floor! Cheer erupted again as these ladies just flooded their strong thick streams all over, creating puddles that spread out several feet. They had to be bursting up to that point. I turned and focused on the one just behind me whose underwear I'd picked up, and stared at her brown-skinned body like a kid in a candy store. She was seductive, swaying her hips and pointing the index finger of one hand at me and then of both hands right at her crotch as her piss gushed out and pooled around my shoes. The sexist thing though, was when she started matching her pee to the beat of the music, cutting her flow off and gushing with every drum kick. The heavy bass impact from the huge speakers gave her timed pee bursts a visceral feel that's hard to describe. I didn't blink, and probably didn't breathe until she was finished. She made my skin crawl, and I wondered how Gold Poetry could do anything hotter. Two patrons, one male and one female, soon had mop buckets and cleaned the floor. When they finished, the queens' platforms opened and a few steps slid out, allowing both cleaners to walk up to each one and lick their pussies. Again I was amazed. It was clear that despite the love of pee among these people and admiration of each other, this place had structure, a hierarchy like any functional community.

I turned back around on the bar stool and Daisy refilled my wine, again saying, “On the house!” We spent the next half hour or so talking as she served drinks with skill, a sharp, experienced bartender, and a joy to be around. The DJ stopped the music for a moment and told everyone to give the new guy a round of applause. They all looked at me while doing so. It was surprising but the free drinks loosened me up a bit and they seemed genuinely happy to have me there so I smiled back, nodding my head. Then he asked Daisy to bring me to the front of the crowd, close to the stage. She told me it was time, and escorted me over. Everyone parted for us and once I was in position, she turned back, the lights dimmed, and everyone was quiet. The four queens came down from their platforms and went up to stand in front of the DJ, while he gave a quick monologue that the woman coming out was a loyal member, a matriarch of the community and prepared a special welcome for me. He leaned back and yelled into the mic, “Ladies and gentlemen, the one and only...Gold Poetryyyy!!!”

Slow electronic music started, infused with a soothing guitar melody, heavy kicks and bass lines to set the mood. The queens performed a brief dance routine and left as a woman came out dressed in all black, a long trench coat, high heeled boots and cowboy hat with a scarf covering her face. It was apparent she was quite tall, regardless of heels. Everyone gathered around to join me in watching her as she drew us in, moving her body in a slow, hypnotic way. It made me appreciate the true significance of her name. In addition to her writings, she herself was like poetry in motion, such smooth and precise movements. I'd never been so absorbed in watching anyone dance. After about a minute, she approached the edge of the stage and gestured “come here” with her hand. I walked over to the steps at the side and went up. The electric guitar solo intensified as she whispered in my ear, “On your knees, love.” With my back to the crowd, I knelt and she stood in front of me.

Even this close, I couldn't see her face at all, but she unbuttoned the coat, whipped it open and threw it aside, revealing her beautiful naked body to me. Her olive skin reflected the blue and orange lights as they panned across every few seconds, creating a psychedelic aura. She was shaved so I was able to see her awesome labia, with the inner lips hanging a bit below the outer ones. Then, she took her hat off. The scarf still covered most of her face. Her eyes were exposed but it was too dark to see them well. She untied her long brown hair, reached down to take the crown from my head and then put it on. She pushed her foot into my chest to lay me down on my back, then straddled her feet at my shoulders and lowered to her knees. Her pussy was hovering inches above my face, almost close enough to lick. I could smell its strong aroma. I looked up, ready to be her slave and do whatever she wanted.

She let loose a forceful warm stream on me, in perfect timing with the music as it progressed into a spine-tingling guitar melody. I fought the urge to gag and swallowed as much of her piss as I could, salty and a bit sweet as she gushed all over my face. Her strong legs pinned my arms against my hips. I felt a slight sensation of drowning but she didn't seem to care and kept flooding me with her powerful stream and I loved every second of it. She was relentless. The pressure was getting stronger, splashing out of my mouth. For a brief moment during my rapid head movements, I finally saw her pretty brown eyes staring at me. After several more seconds, her crazy stream stopped, with a few drips falling from her labia. I was soaked and gasping for air. She then knelt a bit closer and pressed herself on my face and I was more than happy to give her the best oral satisfaction I could, with everyone watching. The music calmed into a simple beat. I stared at her and she squinted from the pleasure as I licked and sucked. To my surprise, she wasn't empty and pushed out a few more squirts, some of which went up my nose. I was aggressive, making my cheeks sore from how hard and fast I was licking, still able to taste her pee. She was swollen with arousal and her thighs were soon twitching. The crowd cheered on and after maybe two or three minutes, her body tensed and shook around me. Her head fell back. It was happening, I'd made her come. I swiped my tongue across her clit while she was going through it. She screamed out and everyone applauded. I kept going, she stayed in place until she couldn't take anymore and lifted off of me.

She fell on her side for a moment and placed her hand on mine as we both laid in her puddle that had spread across the stage. Her eyes seemed filled with emotion as she regained composure and gazed at me for a moment. She hugged me tight, then left. The applause continued and the DJ said, “That's what I call a warm welcome!!” I went to the restroom to clean up as much as possible, then sat back at the bar, with an obvious erection and my shirt soaked into my body. The four queens were now the ones with mops, cleaning the stage. Daisy assured me I did good and that it was rare for anyone to affect Poetry so deeply. She then explained that a stage performance was always the final act before the gathering ended and prepared me one last drink, gave me that big smile and her trademark phrase, “On the house!” Everyone was clearing out. While finishing my drink, I asked why she didn't seem to be preparing to leave as well. Turns out she owns the building and has an apartment on the top floor. I told her how much I enjoyed everything, including our conversation, then thanked her and left. JP dropped me off at the hotel.

On the plane the next morning, it was the only thing on my mind and I wanted to do it all over. When I got home and finished unpacking, I logged into the forum and messaged Poetry, thanking her for such an incredible experience, expressing how awesome it was to have her pee on me and eat her out like that, with my only regret being not having a chance to talk. She replied a few hours later, with heartfelt emotion of how much she loved meeting and sharing herself with me, then asked if I also liked the drinks she served me. I was confused, asking if she was saying what I thought she was. Her reply was, “On the house!” followed by six emojis of three hearts and three blown kisses. I was speechless. How did I miss the signs? Even her profile pic is an image of flowers.

Daisy...Gold Poetry.

 

 

Edited February 18, 2020 by Brutus

[Brutus 2,110]

6 hours ago, peeingone said:

@Brutus Great story man! Good to see You back on here. 

Hey,

Thanks. I didn't even realize I'd been gone a month. Was busy and logging in just got away from me.