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The sext that wasn't


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Summary : I (f) get pissed on in the bath by a lover (m)

A fantasy I’m posting here because I asked the subject of it how he felt about piss, and he’s not a fan (or even curious, sadly). On him and me: late twenties, locked down with our families in different countries, "met" on a dating app, may never meet in real life. Conversation skeeters between internet esoterica, ADHD frustrations, expressions of thirst that only make the cravings worse, and occasional affection. The following is more or less what I would’ve said to him if I'd got a different answer…

One thing you should know about me and piss is that it has very little to do with submission or domination (although power comes into it in some curious ways). It’s got more to do with the potential to access this primal, lawless, immediate, distilled spectrum of experience, free of all thought about the consequences of our actions. 

Because of this, my fetish has mostly manifested in reading fantasies and accounts of people pissing in public or antisocial or destructive places. It’s a little niche, but it just does something for me.

But these lonely times have given me a new appreciation of touch and proximity, so for the first time in a while I’m fantasising about getting pissed on.

We’d go out for a couple of drinks near my place in the afternoon to loosen you up and fill your bladder. When you needed to go you’d let me know – looking maybe a little awkward about it, having a hard time believing that this is what I want to hear. I’d savour the intimate knowledge of what was happening inside you; the vulnerability associated with your growing need; my responsibility to find the way home and open the door; the sweetness that you’re putting yourself in this position for me. I’d do my best to imagine the tingling signals in genitals I don’t have but sometimes wish I did. And I’d brush my nose against your cheek and kiss your ear. 

When we got home I’d get naked and crouch in the bathtub – plug in – and you’d stand over me, unbuckle your belt and pull out your dick. Arousal and nerves, and a sense of propriety, would leave you unable to piss for several seconds - and the two of us frozen in place. You’d close your eyes and concentrate, and a jet of piss would leave your dick, followed by another, landing on my chest. After a pause, a sharp, steady stream would issue from your beautiful cock.

After a few seconds the warm tangy smell would reach you and you’d realise what a mess you were making. But my smile of gratitude and delight in this defilement would reassure you. You’d step forward and press the upward-bended head of your cock against my cheek, so a plume of piss spread over my cheekbone and trickled behind my ear down the back of my neck, wetting my hair. Rubbing your cock around my face and paying attention to where your piss spread and landed, you’d stroke my jaw and touch my lower lip, spreading a blissed-out smile across my face.

Eventually your stream would slow, and you’d direct the last trickle back to my chest. I’d take your cock and kiss it, licking the drips from the end. Feeling the tickle of one more jet, you’d take the liberty of leaving your cock in my mouth and ejecting it unannounced. Already squirming with pleasure on the floor of the bath, I’d moan in enjoyment of my own adoration of you and the gorgeous cock that has shared your most intimate self with me, and swallow.

Edited by longtimelistener
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