Back in the 19th century, a German doctor named Richard Freiherr von Kraft-Ebbing wrote the book on kinks. He called it Psychopathia Sexualis and it was a pisser. Back then pretty much any position besides missionary was viewed with alarm by the local pillars of the community. Sexually deviant behavior included bland practices like oral and anal. He classified homosexuality as a perversion and so forth. Thank God we’ve come a long way since Kraft-Ebbing! Still not everyone has made that moral leap all the way into the 21st century. And I thank God for them as well, because they might be the main reason I have such a devoted following.
Kraft-Ebbing didn’t condemn the practices he referred to as sexually deviant. His goal was to bring them out of the closet and into the light even though he aimed his treatise toward members of his own profession (common folk weren’t prepared to be enlightened, apparently) so the description of the sex acts were in Latin. Ergo sum fuckem.
In my profession I don’t think in terms of fetishes, foibles and fantasies. I think more in terms of hundreds and fifties. So when a long time client phoned me the other day to request a special session I was somewhat surprised.
Walter and I have always had rather a vanilla relationship. Walter is a middle-aged, divorced gentleman who works out of his home. There’s nothing remotely remarkable about Walter. I drive over to his house once or twice a month, we get undressed, he climbs on top, we get it on, he huffs and puffs and does his stuff and then I depart with cash in hand. Don’t get me wrong. I like Walter. I just never expected Walter to harbor a few kinks. This time he wanted me to pee on his face.
We discussed his fantasy at length over the phone. I don’t want to say I encouraged Walter’s enthusiasm but I didn’t slap him down either. For one thing it’s bad for business. For another I pride myself on being absolutely non-judgmental and it’s not an act. Walter got really excited. He couldn’t wait to do this! My garden variety, vanilla ice-cream buddy Walter came across like a little boy at Christmas. To be honest his excitement was contagious. I couldn’t wait to get down to business either!
What does a girl wear on her way to a golden shower, especially when she’s gonna be the one who does the showering? I got all dressed up in a black leather skirt and a frilly white blouse with a fringed vest. I thought a riding crop might be overdoing the bit.
I arrived at his house ready to go thanks to the couple of beers I downed before I left home. Happily he gave me enough notice so I could prepare myself for the occasion. I wanted to make sure I had plenty of fluids to spray all over his face plus a little more beer to help me cope with the thought of what I was about to do. We’re trained from birth to control the release of bodily fluids. Some people have a hard time peeing in a cup if someone else is present. I’ve never before been asked to unleash a torrent of piss on another person’s kisser. I figured I needed to be really relaxed.
As it turned out I needn’t have worried. I felt that old, familiar bladder-clench as I stepped up on his porch and rang the bell. As soon as he answered the door I told him I had to pee real bad. He beamed at me, tugged off his pants and shirt and led me by the hand down the hall to the bathroom off the master bedroom. I hurriedly dropped my skirt and panties on the carpet outside the bathroom, Walter sprawled on the shower floor and I straddled his head and let it go all over his face. He absolutely loved it. He even opened his mouth so I could fill it up. When I finished (and believe me it took some time to squeeze out the last drop!) Walter looked up at me with a broad grin on his face and gurgled contentedly, “What an excellent way to start.”
I don’t always piss on my clients but when I’m asked nicely it’s the least I can do. Ciao!