My Nonchalant Dad

[toseepee 724]

Hopefully ongoing story in which a narrator of your preferred gender recalls their memories of their dad peeing publicly or casually. Nothing sexual happens between the two of them. Enjoy!


My father is, in his own idiosyncratic ways, a Southern gentleman, if that was ever such a thing that exists. He has always been chivalrous, open-minded, and kind.  A pillar of strength, and a warm, friendly figure.

But he has his human side, and a fierce independent streak that means he does what he thinks is right, even when it might turn heads. And what he thinks is right tends to be a bit more permissive than what most people think.


I remember when I was in school, watching a marathon of the old western Gunsmoke with my dad, it was Saturday, or it was a minor federal holiday, or else it was a snow day. But we were both home and we spent the whole day together, eating popcorn and sweet tea and drinking beer. Or he drank beer mostly. Not to excess; my father wasn't an alcoholic, but he did take an excuse, when he saw it, to slowly work through most of a six pack.

Most, but not all. He let me have a single beer and it felt momentous. One step more in the glorious path to adulthood.

He sat in his big fatherly leather Lazyboy while I sat curled up on the couch, blanket thrown over me. Our chairs were turned so we had a clear view of each other out of the corner of an eye even when looking at the TV.

Shortly after he finished his first beer and a glass of sweet tea, around 1PM, he took his first bathroom break. It was at the end of an episode, before we'd started the next one, and he said "Wait a second. Piss break," and walked to the bathroom just across the hall. I saw him walk out but didn't hear him close the door, as usual. My dad was always casual and unconcerned about urination, his own and others. He saw it as a natural thing, and nothing to hide or be ashamed of.

But that didn't mean I wasn't a bit fixated on it. So as I often did, I pulled out my flip-phone and started the stopwatch.

I held my finger over the start button as I heard the click of the toilet lid opening, the quiet sssnnp of a zipper, muffled rustling, the loud clear sound of liquid hitting water, and then a low sigh from deep in my father's chest.

So distracted by the sound of Dad's relief, I almost forgot to start the timer. The splashing was loud, even from the next room, and his occasional groans of satisfaction could barely be heard over them.

Eventually, after 33 seconds, his stream tapered off and I stopped the timer, listening for any last splashes.  I tried to keep accurate count, but sometimes, those little spurts at the end were hard to hear.

There they were! Splash, splash, splash.
My dad's stream hit the water in spurts. And then a long silence. A rustle. Zznnp. No flush. No running water. My dad didn't believe he needed to wash his hands just because he pissed, and flushing just wasted water.

His relief done, he walked back to the living room and cheerfully sipped from his second beer. "Next episode?" was his only comment, but his tone was warm and loving

I nodded and pressed start, but I was thinking way more about my dad's piss than I ever did about the drama in Dodge.

[toseepee 724]

Part 2

The afternoon wore on. A small collection of empty beer bottles gathered on the table between our chairs while we watched Matt Dillon, Doc, and Kitty keep the peace in Dodge.

My dad hadn't relieved himself since he first got up and pissed loudly into the hall toilet, but I knew he must need to go soon. It had been 2 hours, 3 beers, and 1 glass of sweet tea, so his bladder had to be getting pretty full.

Sure enough, midway through an episode, my dad grabbed an empty beer bottle and I heard him unzip. I looked over casually. My dad was never shy, so my taking a look was not an issue to him.

He pulled out his cock, which was soft but plenty long enough to aim easily into the bottle. With both hands, he positioned his dick to the mouth of the beer bottle and, satisfied that his aim was true, let out a big sigh and an even bigger stream of piss. The splashing drowned out the commotion on screen and we both shared a moment fully concentrated on my dad's urination.

His eyes were closed, clearly lost in the bliss of emptying his full bladder. My eyes were trained on the stream and the foaming liquid filling the bottle. I noticed, but didn't say anything about, a tiny second stream trailing down the side of the bottle.

While he drained his bladder, he kept up a steady stream of sighs and groans. "Phew, I needed that!" "That's the problem with beer, runs right through ya."

My father, so consumed with the joy of pissing, didn't notice when the bottle started getting dangerously full. I called out, "Hey dad, your bottle's getting full."
His eyes snapped open, and eyed the foamy piss. With a grunt, he pinched off the stream and set the wet bottle down on the table. The level was an inch from the top of the bottle mouth. Then he grabbed a second bottle and repeated his process of aiming into the narrow mouth.

I was sure he must have been close to done, but his stream started up again at full force and he sighed again.

"Looks like Kitty's been watering down the beer," I joked to my dad and he laughed heartily.

Several seconds later, he again filled the bottle with clear foamy piss, but this time he noticed the raising level and cut the flow sooner. Again he set the full bottle on the table and grabbed another, but only managed a few spurts.

Dad kept the bottle in his lap but tucked his cock back into his pants. I didn't hear him unzip but that wasn't surprising. He never bothered too much with modestly.

His relief done, we both naturally went back to watching the show.

[gladeriga 4]

On 10/20/2023 at 10:38 AM, toseepee said:

Hopefully ongoing story in which a narrator of your preferred gender recalls their memories of their dad peeing publicly or casually. Nothing sexual happens between the two of them. Enjoy!


My father is, in his own idiosyncratic ways, a Southern gentleman, if that was ever such a thing that exists. He has always been chivalrous, open-minded, and kind.  A pillar of strength, and a warm, friendly figure.

But he has his human side, and a fierce independent streak that means he does what he thinks is right, even when it might turn heads. And what he thinks is right tends to be a bit more permissive than what most people think.


I remember when I was in school, watching a marathon of the old western Gunsmoke with my dad, it was Saturday, or it was a minor federal holiday, or else it was a snow day. But we were both home and we spent the whole day together, eating popcorn and sweet tea and drinking beer. Or he drank beer mostly. Not to excess; my father wasn't an alcoholic, but he did take an excuse, when he saw it, to slowly work through most of a six pack.

Most, but not all. He let me have a single beer and it felt momentous. One step more in the glorious path to adulthood.

He sat in his big fatherly leather Lazyboy while I sat curled up on the couch, blanket thrown over me. Our chairs were turned so we had a clear view of each other out of the corner of an eye even when looking at the TV.

Shortly after he finished his first beer and a glass of sweet tea, around 1PM, he took his first bathroom break. It was at the end of an episode, before we'd started the next one, and he said "Wait a second. Piss break," and walked to the bathroom just across the hall. I saw him walk out but didn't hear him close the door, as usual. My dad was always casual and unconcerned about urination, his own and others. He saw it as a natural thing, and nothing to hide or be ashamed of.

But that didn't mean I wasn't a bit fixated on it. So as I often did, I pulled out my flip-phone and started the stopwatch.

I held my finger over the start button as I heard the click of the toilet lid opening, the quiet sssnnp of a zipper, muffled rustling, the loud clear sound of liquid hitting water, and then a low sigh from deep in my father's chest.

So distracted by the sound of Dad's relief, I almost forgot to start the timer. The splashing was loud, even from the next room, and his occasional groans of satisfaction could barely be heard over them.

Eventually, after 33 seconds, his stream tapered off and I stopped the timer, listening for any last splashes.  I tried to keep accurate count, but sometimes, those little spurts at the end were hard to hear.

There they were! Splash, splash, splash.
My dad's stream hit the water in spurts. And then a long silence. A rustle. Zznnp. No flush. No running water. My dad didn't believe he needed to wash his hands just because he pissed, and flushing just wasted water.

His relief done, he walked back to the living room and cheerfully sipped from his second beer. "Next episode?" was his only comment, but his tone was warm and loving

I nodded and pressed start, but I was thinking way more about my dad's piss than I ever did about the drama in Dodge.

Found this on archiveofourown, and comparing names you are the same person. 

You make good stories! 

Hopefully you continue some of them over there as well. 

[toseepee 724]

Yeah I post weirder or more niche stuff (or stuff that is not allowed here) over there.

[toseepee 724]

Thanks for the compliment! Glad to hear someone enjoys my very niche stories!

I need to write more but i've been way busy and not writing 😅

[ThatPotato 1]

On 10/26/2023 at 6:55 PM, toseepee said:

Yeah I post weirder or more niche stuff (or stuff that is not allowed here) over there.

Now I'm kinda curious, what's your username on ao3? (If you're comfortable)

[ABBYPEEGODDESS 1,515]

This story is so good I hope you write more 

[toseepee 724]

10 hours ago, ThatPotato said:

Now I'm kinda curious, what's your username on ao3? (If you're comfortable)

I'm not really comfortable sharing as I feel like that would be kind of tacitly sharing stuff that's against site rules? But it's not hard to find or hidden.

[toseepee 724]

9 hours ago, ABBYPEEGODDESS said:

This story is so good I hope you write more 

Thanks!!!