Date: Thu, 3 Jul 2014 06:11:46 -0700
From: Vincent Vincent <not_your_typical_master@yahoo.com>
Subject: Just a Urinal   (for Gay Men/Authoritarian)

This is a work of fiction and all the standard warnings & disclaimers
apply.  No intended resemblance to actual people.  No minors should be
reading this material.  If you are offended by frank adult reading, leave
now. etc.

Another one-chapter stand-alone to stoke the flames. It's possible that
I'll expand it, but My focus is on a large story that's coming together;
this is a piece that simply didn't fit that storyline.

Reach Me at not_your_typical_Master@yahoo.com

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3PM. It was time to look for today's urinal.

In a few hours, once Orion's workday would be over, he'd be on his way home
to the wife and kids.  He'd already set up the sitter and made reservations
for dinner at a favorite romantic restaurant for their 10th anniversary.
Dawn had been his high school sweetheart; they got married right after
college graduation. He was lucky to be in such a beautiful relationship
with such a beautiful woman. She was everything a man could possibly want.

But sometimes a man enjoys a urinal.  Some pathetic homo that knows its
place in a man's world.  A dick-worshipping whore that treats him not as an
equal to respect, but a God to venerate.  A faggot that expects to be
pushed around, used, debased, shown exactly what it is: a pathetic piece of
degenerate filth. A parasite that exists to literally suck a man's
masculinity down its cocksucking throat.

Orion enjoyed using his urinals.

He met his first a few years back.  He was at a hotel bar while out of town
on business.  He wasn't looking for anything; he really loved his wife and
was faithful to her.  The dude sitting next to him was involved in some
strange sexual energy with some nelly little faggot in the room.  The fag
was sitting alone at a table near the bar, staring at the dude but not at
his face.  The dude would turn around once in a while, chuckle at the queen
at the table, and turn back around to watch whatever was on the TV screen.

Orion couldn't say what it was exactly that made the fag's orientation so
obvious.  But it -was- obvious.  The guy wasn't just gay; he was queer.  He
was a fairy.

At one point, the dude left to use the men's room, an empty glass in his
hand.  He softly hit the back of the queer's head with the glass as he
passed by.  Orion waited to see if the fag was going to follow him into the
bathroom. Orion had no issue with gay guys, but he hoping not to have to
deal with two of them making out if he wanted to use the toilet.
Thankfully, the queen stayed in place.  The dude came back, put his glass
on the table in front of the fag, and sat back down at the bar.  The glass
wasn't empty any more.  The fag stared at it, licking his lips.

"You're fucking kidding me."  Orion said it out loud without even realizing
it.  The dude looked him in the eye and laughed.

"I know, right?  It's hard to believe, but there it is. I mean, seriously,
right there."  He pointed at the faggot and his chuckle invited Orion's
laughter to join in.  The faggot cringed, turning bright red as it started
swallowing the glassful of piss.

"So, what, are you two a couple?"

The dude laughed. "Never met the bitch before tonight, here at the bar.
I'd arranged this online and you're watching the result of it."

Orion's face was one big question mark.

"Let me explain.  The name's Brad."

"I'm Orion.  Yeah, I know, like the constellation.  My folks were, well,
you can figure it out."

"Age of Aquarius types?"

"You got it, bud.  So what the fuck is going on?"

"OK.  Real simple. Sometimes I enjoy using fags."

"You mean gay guys?"  Orion thought of the gay couples he knew and didn't
think they'd be doing this kind of shit.  Then again, he never got into
their personal lives.  Never asked, so they never told. It was obvious they
were coupled, but just like he never discussed making love to Dawn with
them, they didn't talk about their sex with him.  All cool.

"No, Orion. Fags.  Queers into being used by real men.  Here, let me make
this easy.  You mind if the faggot talks to us?"

Orion shrugged his consent, wondering what he might be getting himself
into.

Brad turned to face the fag, his left hand at his crotch.  He curled his
index finger inward and the faggot jumped up.  Orion stifled a laugh as the
faggot pranced toward them with his hips, a stereotypically gay movement
Orion hadn't seen except in old movies.

Brad's voice lost its friendly edge as he snarled to the cocksucker.  "OK,
sissy.  Tell this man here what's going on."

"I don't understand, Sir."  The cocksucker spoke with what was not quite a
lisp, but a small display of yet more obvious fag behavior.

"Oh, Jesus, you moron.  This man is curious.  Hell, turn around and show
off.  That's a start."

The faggot spun like a ballet dancer half way around.  His butt pouted up
from the arch of his back, feline and feminine.  And his jeans were low
enough to show off some bright pink lace panties. Well, no, from what he
could see, it was more like a jock strap made of lace.  Odd.  Queer. Faggy.

Orion didn't say a word, but his groan said it all.
Disgust. Revulsion. The faggot spun back around, head down, humiliated by
his honest reaction.

"I'm a sissyboy, Sir.  A fag aching to be used by men like you.  I know you
have places you'd rather put your cock than in my homo holes, Sir, so
anything I can do to please you helps make my day a ...."

Brad started talking, overriding the faggot.  "Every once in a while, I
look for one of these online.  Queens that are openly looking to be used.
I don't fuck `em, but it's so hot to use these fagbitches at little slaves
to do whatever the fuck I want.  `Get me a beer, bitch.'  `Clean my house,
faggot.' `Go mow my lawn, homo.'  And no matter what I say, it gets done.
Ain't that right, fagcunt?"

"Anything you want, Sir.  It's an honor to serve you, Sir."

"So I look for sissy bitches who aren't trying to be women, but be the
faggots they were born to be.  Nice little sissies. I tell `em to swish
their hips, lisp, limp their wrists, be proud of the fags they are.  That
if I don't see a clear and obvious queer when I walk into the room, I'm
leaving.  And this," he shrugged toward the fag, "is what I get."

"Thank you, Sir.  I'm proud to be your sissy faggot, Sir."

Brad's face lightened up as he turned to Orion.  "Hey, buddy, how's your
bladder?"

"Huh?"

"Ever had a fag drink your piss?"  The cocksucker cringed as Brad turned
toward it, his face cooling from a grin to a sneer.  "Go get the glass from
the table, cuntboy." The sissy returned to the table, grabbed the nearly
empty glass, and came back to the men. "Now hold it in your hands in front
of your faggot face and beg this stranger for his pee."

The cocksucker cringed and turned to face him.  His head angled up to
Orion's, but his eyes looked down humbly. "Please, Sir, if it's not too
much trouble, it would mean so much to a faggot like me to drink some of
your delicious piss. I've never had the piss of two men in me at the same
time, and just the thought of it makes me unbelievably hot, Sir.  I could
never do enough to thank you, Sir. I will be your faggot bitch for the rest
of my sorry life, Sir, doing anything you wanted done for you, Sir.  Taking
care of all the shit you don't want to deal with. Sir, I'll fucking pay you
for your piss, Sir."

"What?" Orion didn't see that one coming.

The queen blushed.  "Yes, Sir.  I'll pay you for your piss, Sir.  $50,
Sir."

"So, what, I'm your fucking whore, faggot?"

"Oh, God, no, Sir.  I'm YOUR whore.  It's just that money is power.  So,
Sir, money should be in your hands, not mine."

Orion had a quick business sense, and the obvious response was to
bargain. "I'll do it for $100, faggot.  A Franklin for my urine."

"Yes, Sir.  May I go use the ATM, Sir?"

Orion paused just a second as it all started to sink in. "Yes, but stop by
the front desk and exchange it.  I want a single bill,
cocksucker. Literally, a Franklin for my urine."

Brad chimed in. `Shit, man, you think fast.  You know what, fag, I'll take
a $100 finder's fee."

"Yes, Sir!"  The queer gulped the remains of piss in the glass before
offering it to Orion.

Orion nodded to his glass on the bar.  "Thanks, fagbitch, but I got my own.
Get moving." The homo ran, faggot-style, out of the room.

"You think he's coming back?"

"I'll bet you your hundred he does," Brad answered.

"Nah, just curious.  But cool." Orion finished his drink and took his glass
into the men's room. He was amazed at his cock's fullness as he drained
himself into the tumbler.  It wasn't the fag's sexuality that turned him
on; he had no sexual interest in the fag at all. This was all about
power. Orion felt the testosterone oozing out of his pores as the warmth of
his piss filled the glass. He sauntered out into the bar as Brad chuckled.

"You were born for this, buddy."

As the faggot raced back into the bar, a $100 bill in each hand, Orion
decided Brad was right.  He was born for this.  He thrust his glassful of
piss at the sissy as he pulled the bill from its hand.  "All yours,
cocksucker. Gulp it all down."

He watched the fag guzzle his nasty piss, moaning with pleasure at each
swallow.  The queer panted once the tumbler was empty.  "Oh, God, thank you
so much, Sir.  Here's my card..."

"Shut up, faggot. I don't want your phone number.  I'm flyin' home tomorrow
morning.  You can spend the rest of your life hungering for me. From now
on, though, you give this dude your life.  Anything he wants done, gets
done. got it, bitchboy?" Brad smiled from deep inside his eyes,
appreciating Orion's innate skill at handling the fag.

"Yes, Sir."

"I'm getting the fuck outta here.  I got lots to think about." He turned to
Brad, offering his hand. "Thanks, dude.  This was an experience."

Orion smiled upon the reminiscence, and got back to his need for today.
He'd already posted his ad online, using the template he always found
productive:


STR8 DUDE SEEKS URINAL

I'm a straight husband and father who enjoys using the occasional fag as my
urinal on the way home.  I'll be leaving downtown tonight at 6PM, taking
transit to Wrigleyville.

You are a fag who knows the value of draining a man's piss down your
throat, straight from my plumbing to your own, cocksucker.  I've been
tanking up, so be prepared to gulp down a full bladder. If you can't
swallow open-mouthed, you're not skilled enough for my use.

I'm just going to knock on your door.  You open it, kneel, and I unleash
and unload.  Then zip up and walk away. I don't even want you to say hello
or goodbye.  Urinals don't talk.

Ideally, you're comfortable enough as a fag to not even try to be a man.
But you're not a woman either.  I respect women, so don't insult them by
pretending to be one of them.  You're a fag.  That's all you are, all you
ever will be.  Wanna impress me?  Be wearing some pretty fag panties when I
stop by.

I'm looking for fags who are within 2 blocks of any stop on the red line
between downtown and Wrigley.  If you're not at an on-the-way stop, it
ain't my problem, cocksucker; move.

Reply with your address.  I don't give a fuck what you look like,
pissbitch, so don't bother with the pics.  You got a photo of my 7 uncut
inches in front of you; that's all a fag like you needs to know. I'm not
answering any ad except by knocking on one faggot's door this evening.  So
all of you will be waiting and hoping, but only one lucky faggot gets to
quench its thirst.  Yeah, I get off on that kinda shit.  Deal with it.

If you want to sweeten the deal, you can be my pay toilet and show your
gratitude for my liquid gold.  The best offer will get my knock on the door
between 6 and 6:30 tonight. The rest of you will be thirsting for me.

You'll want to serve and service me in other ways, too.  Yeah, I know that.
You'll wanna suck my dick.  Ain't gonna happen, fagbitch. I got my wife for
that. I may be the best thing that's ever happened to you: a real man
who'll let you be nourished by my fluids.  But to me, you're just a urinal
on my way home.


Orion looked over the responses and found an offer for $150.  Poor little
fag must be pretty fucking desperate; it'll be paying for his dinner with
his wife.  Orion noted the address and looked through the list of pisspots
he'd already used to see if any were nearby.  He found 3 that had paid
located between the train stop and this new urinal's address, all in the
gay part of town, of course.  He sent an email to the 3 previous urinals:

You know who I am. I'll stopping by at a new urinal's place that's not far
from you.  If the fag flakes out and you want my piss instead, just hit
reply before I leave here at 6.  Don't bother me with any words, faggot;
all I need is to see that you replied.  Of course, if you reply and I knock
on your door and you don't answer, you're off my list and will never again
be blessed with my urine.  Nice and simple, faggot.  Have your payment in
your hand when you open the door for me.

Orion knew he'd be hearing from at least one of these desperate homos, so
he was all set.  A little amusement on the way home, followed a fag-paid
romantic evening with his wife.  Once they got back home, a night of tender
and sensual lovemaking with the woman he loved.

Orion loved his life.