From: slick@nudge.io.org (Slick)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.watersports
Subject: Scenes With Watersports (M/M, ws)
Date: 28 Jul 1995 11:49:09 GMT
X-Newsreader: TIN [version 1.2 PL2]

WARNING: THE FOLLOWING IS A SEXUALLY EXPLICIT 
FICTIONAL STORY. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 
18, OR IF YOU ARE NOT INTERESTED IN READING 
ABOUT SEXUALLY EXPLICIT SITUATIONS AND 
ACTIVITIES.



                    -- SCENES WITH WATERSPORTS --

     I was in a college shower stall the first time I got hot over 
man-piss.  It was in a dorm bathroom where twenty guys shared a short row 
of urinals.  At curfew, groups of fraternity men came back after beer 
blasts.  Piss talk and drunken competitions were common among them.  I 
knew this as I watched through a crack in the shower stall.  They had 
contests to see whose was the longest flow of recycled beer.  I could see 
them from behind, in piss-stance at the urinals.  I soaped my cock and 
with the steady flow of shower water on my back, I shot my load.

     Throughout the school semester I jerked off with piss on my hand.  I 
usually came while fantasizing about getting pissed on by a fraternity of 
cocks.  (I never joined a frat).  Also, I pissed on the pouch of a 
jockstrap and came with the smelly thing on my face.

     One night I went with a gay friend, Gene, to a local beer bar.  The 
place was a dank, dirty hangout for beer guzzlers, straight and gay, with 
a reputation for easy cruising if you weren't the piss-elegant type.  I 
was concerned that Gene looked too "preppie".

     The toilet was out of order and men pissed by a wooden fence in a 
dirty yard out back.  After a couple of beers, Gene went out there to 
take a leak.  Fifteen minutes later, he finally came back to the bar with 
a sheepish look on his face.  He pointed to the front of his sweater, 
soaked from the neck to the waist.  The we trail spread over his crotch as 
if he'd pissed himself in his pants.  He said he'd been hosed down.  Word 
for word, I remember: "By a guy who pissed like a racehorse.  It's 
dripping down my legs into my shoes".

     I got a hard-on at the sight of Gene's wet humiliation.  An aching 
for sex stung my piss heavy prick when a truck driver type sauntered up 
beside us at the bar and Gene whispered, "That's the pisser".  The man 
stared deliberately at the pattern soaking Gene's clothing.

     Without speaking, the three of us continued chugging cans of beer.  
I was constantly aware of this brute's presence and when I left Gene alone 
at the bar to relieve myself out back, I gasped to know the pisser was 
following.  Dribbles of piss were soaking my underpants. 

     We were alone in the piss yard.  I stood at the fence, attuned to 
the great release of letting out a big piss load.  He stood about a foot 
behind me and made a big display of spraying a strong yellow stream up 
and down the wooden fence.  I could smell it.

     His prick was fat and knowing what that prick had done to Gene, I 
had to have my chance.  I reached for the head, touching my fingers to the 
piss slot.  The hot flow forced its way through, splashing up on my hand. 
I was reeling-drunk and asked him to piss all over me.  To me it seemed 
the ultimate of submission to be dominated by a pissing dick.

     I braced myself for the onslaught but he had his own ideas about 
emptying his bladder.  Somebody had left an empty beer can at the fence.  
The pisser commanded me to bring the can to him and I obeyed.  I held the 
can between our crotches as he directed the head of his cock to the 
opening at the to.  He grunted and then his piss flowed.  The tin became 
hot to the touch as he filled it.  The recycled brew had a good head on 
it.  He told me he had an endless supply of "cider" for the right 
piss-slave, and then he said: "Drink it".  Even in my fantasies I had 
never thought about drinking it.  Suddenly I was forced to decide how far 
I wanted to go.

     The pisser returned to the bar and I followed like an obedient 
puppy, full beer can in hand.  Gene watched questioningly, but only the 
pisser and I knew for certain what was in the can that I placed 
ceremoniously to my lips.  I held my gaze on the savagely handsome face
of the man whose piss was in my mouth.  The liquid was less bitter than I
had expected.  His eyes told me to drain it.  I gulped it down.  It burned
in my stomach and when I belched I could smell it on my breath.

     Gene was drenched in this man's urine, I was drinking it and the 
pisser had decided that it was time to take me home and, "really get into 
it".  I told him that I was new at the scene but he laughed and insisted 
he'd have me begging for piss.  Gene was startled to see me leave with 
the pisser.

     His car was parked outside.  As soon as we got in, he pushed my head 
between his legs and clamped it there as he stank of stale piss -- and 
that smell stayed with me as I followed his order to put my lips around 
his cockhead and suck on the slit.  His stomach muscles tightened; a few 
drops and then a flow that had me gurgling like a toilet.  I didn't dare 
let any spill on the car seat so I held my mouth on the know and 
swallowed.  He fed me a controlled stream, pumped slowly enough for my 
inexperienced mouth to take every drop as it flowed from his tap.

     My head was down on his pissing dick for the entire drive.  When we 
got up to his place, my stomach was bloated.  I told him I didn't know if 
I could take anymore and he laughed, saying he had plenty more piss for 
me to take.  He told me it was his birthday and I was his present.  

     I was stripped and led to a small bathroom lit with candles where he 
placed me stomach down, arse up, in the bathtub.  I lay there moaning 
with his hot liquid churning in my stomach.  He climbed on top, straddling 
me in the tub, and greased my arsehole with his fingers.  I admit that I 
loved the sensation of his dick, lubed with grease and piss as he pressed 
it into my hold.

     He knew what he was doing, fucking thirty or forty hard strokes into 
me before stopping the fuck motion.  He allowed his boner to rest inside 
me.  "You're gonna get filled up good", he said.  I felt his cock 
spurting wet heat.  I thought he was coming.  But he was stretching me open 
inside with the burning gold of a piss enema.  He'd filled me from both 
ends and that made him hard again, frothing up his piss when he pumped it.

     He warned me to keep my arse up with the hole tight around his cock 
so that the precious liquid stayed inside.  The pressure of the piss load 
gave an incredible sensation, but for nearly half an hour he alternately 
fucked and pissed up my arsehole.  He started thrusting very hard, 
opening my up so a lot of piss spilled over my arse cheeks into the tub.

     To discipline me for letting it out, I was ordered to roll around in 
the pissy tub and piss on myself.  I can only say that he jerked himself 
off as I pissed, and I climaxed soon after that.  Then we showered 
together and I stayed the night.  In the morning I sat on the tile floor 
beside the toilet and watched his piss splash into the bowl.  We 
exchanged telephone numbers but I didn't see him again for months.

     I continued to sneak looks at urinals but it wasn't the same as 
being a human urinal, positioned between a pair of muscular thighs, 
watching a pee-hole open up.  One night I got a phone call at the dorm -- 
Don, the pisser, he said -- and of course I remembered him.  He said he'd
been drinking all night and was thinking of me.  He had the phone pulled 
into his bathroom and he held the mouthpiece down by the bowl so I could
hear it frothing up.  He her be pissing in my mouth.  It was instant
erection.

     We didn't get together that night, but made a date for his birthday.  
I was thirsty for this annual indulgence.  As his birthday present, I had 
a special desire to serve as a piss mouth.  We began with a cocktail to 
celebrate and refresh my memory.  A piss cocktail?  Not exactly.  It was 
liquor in a tall glass but he said, "I was thinking of you when I made 
the ice-cubes.  Suck them slowly or chew them.  You'll start remembering 
me better."  I let a cube of ice melt in my mouth.  It was bitter with a 
tangy aftertaste.  Yellow ice-cubes.  I marveled at his sadistic 
ingenuity; he'd peed in the tray and frozen it. 

     Our sex scene was rougher this time than last.  Again I got the 
fucking combined with the piss enema direct from his dick, this time on a 
bed covered with a rubber tarp.  "Don't dare spill a drop," he said as he 
screwed me with piss up my hole.  I thought I would burst and when he 
plunged in deep, some of it bubbled out, wetting his bush.

     Suddenly he was mad as hell and he told me I had a good spanking 
coming.  I squirmed to avoid it, but he was strong and I was filled with 
piss.  He bent me over the bed and hit me hard with his hand, one smack 
after the next until his handprints overlapped on my arse.  I clenched my 
cheeks tightly but the piss escaped with each smack.  The piss was strong 
and salty, burning into the freshly made bruises.  I was sobbing.

     "You came here to be my piss slave and that's what you're gonna be," 
he said, pulling me into the bathroom where he snapped the cold, silver 
enclosure of a handcuff around one of my wrists.  He closed the other 
circle of cuff around the pipe from his toilet.  When he locked the 
bathroom door I was left in the dark, handcuffed to his toilet bowl.  I 
let the remaining piss seep out of my arsehole and contemplated my 
position as I sat in a pool of it.

     He was gone at least half-an-hour and when he came back he was not 
alone.  Apparently, he'd called two of his piss-buddies to join this 
little party.  I looked up into their crotches, straining at my bonds, as 
the three of them let loose.  "Open your fucking drain, toilet", my 
master barked as they soaked me with a torrent from head to toe.  I 
imagined huge-dicked fraternity masters were using me as a latrine.

     I spent that night cuffed at the foot of Don's four-poster.  
Throughout the night, when any of the men wanted to piss, they didn't 
bother to walk to the bathroom.  At my master's orders, I was to get 
their golden showers down my throat -- as well as loads of cum washed down
with more piss.

     After the other two left, I remained with Don.  He was gentle and 
loving, complimenting me on my ability to serve cocks and all they had to 
offer.  He said that his birthday shouldn't be the only time he "pissed 
on the flames of my desire."  He told me that he wanted to take me round 
to lap up public toilets.  Even as my tongue coaxed the final drops of 
morning piss from his pee-hole, I knew I'd never see him again.  I 
figured I'd gone far enough in the watersports scene.

     I've been living in another state for several years now.  For the 
past eleven months I've been seeing one special guy.  Neither S&M nor 
piss was included in our relationship until last week.  We were sitting in 
his car when he said he'd really like to take a piss and damn, there were 
no restrooms to be found.  I opened my mouth real wide.  We both laughed, 
and soon enough we found a gas station where he used the john.

     However, I started him thinking because that night we did something 
totally different.  We were cocksucking in the 69 position when I 
suddenly felt a most pleasurable sensation -- the squirt of his piss.  
Since then we've been drinking lots of water before 69ing so that we can
piss in each other.  With us, submission/domination is not part of the
scene.  It's a mutual give-and-take for the sensation and intimacy it
brings us.