Pee Pee Platter, Part III

Mr. Pee has this fairly irritating habit of emailing me several times in the course of an evening, always frantic, always begging me to do ridiculous things to/with him. Ok, perhaps I shouldn't judge. I'm sure there are many people out there just aching to point their fingers at me, calling what I do in bed ridiculous, so I should refrain.

Anyway, an example from an email Mr. Pee sent me last night after I didn't respond right away to his request to meet:

Date: Thu, 7 Jul 2005 16:47:32
From: [Mr. Pee]
Subject: Re: are u there
To: [Lusty]

i guess tongiht is bad....but im up for ANYTHING im soooo serious...if you have friends, clients that want to watch...np..if you want to shit on me...np I want you to use me like the piss, shit whore that I am..them tell me to pay for it..even behind a building..in a bathroom..where ever..i dont care..i just want to be your piss and shit slave

Date: Thu, 7 Jul 2005 16:51:21
From: [Mr. Pee]
Subject: Re: are u there
To: [Lusty]

ill be on tonight...ill email you a yes or no if you have something set up...im soo ready for you again...you say it, ill do it so dont worry about that..im up for anything..anyplace whatever..as long as you shit and piss on me...

Several of my immediate observations:

1. I warned you before about his grammar and spelling. 2. Notice how the emails are only three (3) minutes apart. 3. I should tell you that there were five more emails from him, three in between the two I posted above and two more afterwards with single question marks as the sole content. 4. Woah there! Woah, Mr. Pee! Your name is Mr. PEE for a reason, not Mr. PissNShit! I haven't broken the news to him yet that there will be no shitting during our dates, which I'm sure will sadden him greatly. I will do a number of things to fatten my wallet, but unloading the contents of my breakfast will never be one of them.*

Anyway, so I promised you, my readers, that I would tell you about my second and thusfar last meeting with Mr. Pee (though judging from the urgency of last night's email, I'd wager a guess that it won't be our final meeting).

I arrived at the same townhouse directly after work, and instead of leading me to the small bathroom in the living room, Mr. Pee led me up several flights of stairs to a giant master bathroom with a jacuzzi tub. I bet this'd be fun to take a leisurely bath in, I remember thinking before he stripped naked and climbed in. And again, I took my clothes off while he looked at me intently, his surprisingly large cock already erect (surprising because I suppose I usually expect awkward men to have small penises, not from experience, mind you, but from some strange stereotype I've apparently created in my head). I stepped into the tub and squatted in a reverse cowgirl position so that he could get to my pussy. It took some agile maneuvering, but I was finally able to place myself so that I wasn't stepping on him but so that I still had a modicum of comfort in the position I had contorted myself into.

Again, Mr. Pee lapped away eagerly and almost immediately, I began to relax my bladder so that I could piss all over his face. Suddenly, I felt Mr. Pee's tongue dart to my asshole (my first clue!) and I jerked away. I don't like that! I said. He apologized several times and I told him not to worry about it. Sitting here right now, I'm wondering why I let Mr. Licky do that but not Mr. Pee. Perhaps I sensed subconsciously that letting him lick my asshole would lead to him wanting the more nefarious things he begged for in the emails above. But really, I have no idea. I just know that in the moment, I really didn't want him to do that. Anyway, for several minutes, I strained myself, attempting to relax to muscles, but to no end; nothing was coming out, no matter how hard I tried. So, after a respectable time had lapsed (I didn't feel right about trying to piss right away, since he expressedly wanted to go down on me before the peeing), I reversed my position and squatted like I might if I were going behind the bushes. The pee began to flow and I watched Mr. Pee stroke his dick furiously. I've always been fascinated with how people look when they touch themselves, and I had a prime vantage point with which to view him. Suddenly, I remembered that I was curious about whether or not he swallowed my pee. I looked down. To my surprise, Mr. Pee was swallowing as much of my piss as he could stomach, spitting the rest out like he was a professional wine taster.

He didn't come right away like last time, but stroked his dick for about 20 seconds before squirting on his stomach. We both left the bathtub, him dressing quickly and me wiping myself off before putting my clothes on. As I dressed, he dropped the folded money onto the bathroom counter and I noticed a wedding picture of the people who I'm guessing normally occupy the house. There they were, smiling in their dress and tux, oblivious in the photo to the fact that years later, their family friend/brother/housesitter would be hiring me, a part-time hooker, to let her bladder loose in their roomy jacuzzi tub.



*And I promise that I'm not judging any of you who may do that sort of thing for business or pleasure, though I do have one question: how do you not get cholera?