Pee Pee Platter, Part II

I do most of my john-hunting through craigslist. I look for ads of men seeking women who I think might be interested in someone like me and send them a sort of form letter, altering keywords based on what they ask for, hoping that they will respond and that, eventually, we will set something up. I have hesitated putting an ad up of my own on craigslist for a couple of reasons. 1. I am lazy, and would hate to sift through the many many responses I might get. 2. I am paranoid, and don't want the cops to collect my picture (yes, they actually do this) or email me in hopes of entrapping and eventually arresting me. I probably get less business this way, but at least I have the illusion of security, and don't have to make checking my sex work email a full-time job, ya know?

Anyway, I met Mr. Pee through craigslist. He (you guessed it) wanted a woman to pee on him. No sex, just a long hot golden shower. Easy, right? Though Mr. Pee had very limited skills in the grammar and spelling department, I was able to work out a time and meeting place fairly quickly after I had answered his ad.

After work, I drove over to his place and found the four story townhouse where he was staying. He mentioned quickly that he was house sitting for someone else, which seemed like poor etiquette to me. I think I'd be pretty angry if I found out that my house sitter was paying someone to piss all over them in my expensive digs. Anyway, Mr. Pee was nice enough, if a bit awkward (and thank god for the awkward men, as they are the bread and butter of the sex industry!). He was probably in his early 40s, tall and thin and pasty with greying brown hair and scant facial hair, like an eager adolescent boy might have. He was wearing dark grey sweat pants and a grey t-shirt, which he quickly removed. I also removed my clothes and he made a nice comment about my body.

The main room was adjacent to a small bathroom, where he had laid out a towel on the floor. He laid on the towel and asked me to squat over him. In our email correspondence, he had requested that he go down on me for a few minutes before I was to pee on him, unannounced. So, that he did, licking eagerly at my nether parts while I tried to relax my bladder muscles. Since I had been drinking a lot of liquids and diuretics that day in preparation, I had to pee very badly and assumed that it would be easy. However, in that unfamiliar position and with his tongue baring down on my clit, I wasn't able to pee. Have you ever been under a lot of pressure to relax a muscle? No? Well, let me tell you how difficult that is. My instinct was to try and push out, but when that muscle is clenched, the pee ain't going nowhere, Mister. I apologized to Mr. Pee, who was still below me, going at it eagerly, and he said quite graciously, "You can come if you want." I snorted and stated that that probably wouldn't happen. He asked why and after a pause, I answered him. "For a lot of reasons."

For at least ten minutes more, I tried desperately to unclench my muscles and pee, but the most I got out was a small squirt. Finally, I crouched higher, squatting between the toilet and the wall so that I was in a semi-familiar peeing stance. I had figured out that my bladder was very well-trained to only pee when I was in a certain position, and that it wasn't about to change that just because I wanted it to.

Finally, the pee began to flow, spilling all over his face, neck and chest. I wanted desperately to see whether or not he was drinking it, but I also didn't want to do anything that would disturb my urine stream. He exclaimed many times, encouraging me to give him more, if I could. He began to stroke his hard (and quite large) dick, squirting a small amount of come on his stomach as the last few drops of piss fell from my urethra.

After I finished, he pulled on his t-shirt without cleaning off his face and offered me a fresh towel. I wiped myself off as best I could and quickly got dressed. Being an awkward sort of man, Mr. Pee didn't attempt to make small talk after we were done. I thanked him, gave him a quick hug (trying to avoid getting wet with any residue that might have been left on him) and drove off, still elated that I had an extra wad of cash to use as I wished.

I've seen Mr. Pee once more (story forthcoming), and since then, I haven't been able to use the bathroom without feeling that, both literally and figuratively, I'm flushing liquid gold down the toilet.


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