“God I need to pee really bad. I am holding it for you.” The words flash across the Tumblr app.

The day after I posted my first pee story on my blog, a local guy told me he was “into that” and invited me over for some fun. I had been with him before, but since he had a new boyfriend, he had deleted his Grindr account. Instead, he has been sending me direct messages on Tumblr. 

I told him I wanted him to be desperate. He agreed to do whatever I said, so I had him drinking all morning. It’s almost lunch now, and I want to find how long he can hold it. The idea excites me, and I stroke myself as I text him.

“Is your room-mate gone?” I ask. “Should I come over now?”

He responds instantly. “Better be here by 11:45.”

I check Google maps, which informs me that the earliest I can be there is noon.

“No problem!” I write back. I take my time getting ready. I have a glass of water, and take a long sit-down piss while I read some news sites. It’s nearly 11:40 by the time I settle into my car and prepare to drive across town. 

I decide to take King street.

Who would have thought there’d be so many stoplights? And what is with all that construction, holy fuck! At one of the many stops, my phone thumps on the seat beside me. 

“I need to pee baaaad”.

“Driving!” I manage to type back. Traffic is starting to slow down as the lunch hour approaches. As I slowly make progress across town, the messages keep coming.

“Guy in a sweater out front. Wait for him to leave. If he’s not there BUZZ IN.”

“OK he left. Hurryyyy”

“OMG”

It’s 12:15 by the time I pull up and find a parking space. An old lady lets me in, and I wait for the elevator to his apartment. I’m not sure what to expect, or even if I can handle what I’m going to do. I took piss once before, but there wasn’t much. This time there will be more. Plus, I know this guy is aggressive. A regular Jian Ghomeshi. I never know what I’m going to get with him. Fuck, what if it reeks of curry?

The young, black haired Indian man answers the door. He’s wearing nothing but a house coat, and his brown eyes are wild. “Get in,” he tells me.

“Sorry, traffic,” I tell him. I kneel down and slowly untie my boots. When I look up he’s shed his housecoat and he’s already hobbling down the hall to the washroom. His body is thin and beautiful. He has a tall, narrow torso. His ass is perfectly round and tan, nearly hairless. He turns and waits for me in the washroom.

“We’ll use the bathtub,” he says.

“I don’t think I’ll need it, but sure.” I’m cocky after last time, when I didn’t spill a drop in the campus restroom. My host paces like a caged lion as I methodically unlatch my belt buckle and strip to my underwear. I step into the tub gingerly. Like the rest of the bathroom, the bathtub has seen better days. Once white, now it’s scratched and stained with years of use. I get in and kneel down on its rough worn enamel surface.

From across the bathroom, he bounds into the tub with me, holding his penis. It’s flaccid, maybe about four inches. Velvety brown foreskin hides it. He pulls some back, revealing the pinkness inside.

“I have to pee so baa–”

The exact instant I put my mouth over it, he gasps and the stream starts with full force. My mouth fills in seconds and I swallow a big gulp of his piss. My strategy of getting him to drink worked well. Once again, it’s mostly water, and so light tasting, it quenches my thirst. It’s no different from a bottle of Evian, and I eagerly gulp it down. He holds my shoulders, sighs with relief, and puts his leg up on the side of the tub, as I drink mouthful after mouthful of the refreshing liquid.

I start to suck, move my mouth along its length, and he hardens, still pissing. This time, I have a secret agenda. It is possible, I read on the Internet, to deep throat a pissing cock. If this is done, it will feel as if you are filling up without any effort as he empties himself down your throat.

Alas, I manage to get him into my throat, but he winces and strains. Finally he pulls out, holds his cock in his hands. It’s fully eight inches now, and the pink glans bulges, pulsing as he strains. “FUCK! I still gotta go. But it’s not happening.”

Oops.

I look up at him innocently. “Well, you’ll just have to cum down my throat so you can give me the rest!” I offer.

He stares down at me, and I have no idea what he’s thinking. I’m suddenly afraid. Shit, he does look like a terrorist, so calm, but about to explode in anger. 

Something in him snaps, as if he’s come to a decision. A cryptic smile spreads across his face. He puts his hands on my shoulders again, and slowly pushes me backwards.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

Wordlessly, he spins me around so my back is against the cold tiled wall. 

“Call me master.” He tells me, eyes ablaze.

“Master,” I say, genuinely afraid by his expression. “Please, feed me your cum and piss down my throat.”

He then guides his penis into my mouth. But then without warning, he drives the rest of the way in. My head slams back against the tile. He then fucks my throat, mercilessly. Moments later, I try to breath and realize with growing panic that I can’t. I don’t have much air left. I want to shove him off, but instead, I give him too quick taps on his hip, praying that he gets the message.

Thankfully, he pulls out, a string of thick mucous dripping off his dick. “Master, please,” I gasp, ”Just let me take a deep breath.” I suck in a chest full of air like I’m about to dive in a pool.  An instant later he’s back in again. He goes longer this time, and manages to get all the way down. My forehead is driving into his abdomen.

Involuntarily, without warning, I push him off with my full strength. I cough and a gob, too big to be mucous, lands on the bathtub floor. I recognize my morning coffee, the brown tendrils slowly reaching toward the drain. Not much, but I’m embarrassed and disgusted.

He looks down at me with disdain. “Clean that up,” he orders. I flip on the bathtub and splash the thing away down the drain.

“Good boy. Now clean it up.” He shoves his dick in my mouth and I slurp the mess off for him. As soon as I’m done he grips my shoulders starts fucking my throat again.

I’m beginning to wonder if it’s worth it. Getting throat fucked is sexy as hell for the first 30 seconds or so, but it is not a comfortable thing to have the protective layer of mucous scraped out of your esophagus. My eyes are watering. Why do I keep coming back to him?

Finally, he pulls out and strokes himself, quickly. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“Master, I’m so hungry, please feed me your cum.” I see his balls, dark as chocolate, facing me and I lean forward and take them into my mouth, slowly sucking on them one at a time, and then together while he strokes.

“OK,” he says, lowering his cock. I stare directly into his pink glans. “Uh… UUNGH!” I see a small explosion of white, and the world goes blurry because he fucking shoots me right in the eye. He manages to get the rest in my open mouth, but I’m wincing, wiping my eyeball with the back of my hand. His body stiffens, and he moans again as he extends his arms over my head against the tiles. His cock bulges and pumps my mouth full of his sperm.

Suddenly he topples backwards, and with a thump, lands on floor. Then there’s silence.

I’m shocked. What the fuck happened. He just sits there on the bathroom carpet, expressionless, staring into his knees. I worry that he’s having a seizure. I have no idea what to do. How am I going to explain this? My mind races. I decide if I’m going to call 911 I’ll use his phone..

“Uh, hey, are you OK?” I ask.

He stirs. “Yeah, that was just.. Intense.” He gets up slowly, grabs a towel, and wipes his dick off, while I stare at his body.

I get up and reach for the towel. He stops me, moves in front of me.

“I still gotta pee. If want it, open up. Or don’t, I don’t care.” He aims his dick at my face and I’m staring right at his pink piss hole.

Thinking quickly, I decide to drink it down so I won’t need to shower.

His whole body relaxes. “Oh my god, that’s so much better,” he says as he empties himself into me. I easily keep up and start to suck it out of him. It’s like a thick soft gooshy straw. He moans. “Aaaah, you have no idea–”

When all is over and I’m getting dressed, he tells me, “You can write about this, but don’t put in any details. Like don’t even mention I have a cat… cause I have a boyfriend now.”

“I know. Don’t worry.” Confidentiality is of the utmost importance!

Back in my car, I wince and examine my left eye in the rear view mirror. Angry red veins course through it like a map of London. I Google for “cum in eye” and I learn that it can sting for a while. It is possible to get an infection of chlamydia or gonorrhoea local to the eye. Fuck. Thankfully, a couple hours later I’m fine.

I promise this will be my last fetish story for a while. And sorry for the rushed ending, but I have to go now. Real bad.


Read about my other encounters on http://grindrfantasies.tumblr.com/archive

 

Pete Gentle

[email protected]

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