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Posts Tagged ‘golden showers’

  1. A Little Help for My Friends–Golden Showers Edition

    May 5, 2015 by Heather Cole

    Legs and Heart

    Creating a BDSM scene takes creativity, communication, and cooperation. The submissive and Dominant work together to make an experience. The more complex the experience, the longer it takes to plan. This is one of the reasons I love having kinky friends, because when they have an idea that they need help transitioning from fantasy to reality, I like to help if I can. I’m a giver that way.

    I got a call from a friend who needed help with a scene with her male submissive. I had helped her before, and I admired her creativity and ingenuity. Her submissive was into degradation and humiliation, and he wanted more than anything to be pissed on by a female. My friend could have done it, but she knew she’d have her hands full (literally) with some cock and ball torture. There are times like these when Dominants could use an extra hand, and she wanted to know if I could donate… some pee.

    Urine is not a fetish of mine. In fact, I heartily object when sir wants to piss on me although I still submit to the treatment. In the scheme of things, I don’t find it arousing although the humiliation can be hot. Peeing on someone else, though, was a titillating idea for me. I’ve had many a kinky adventure with golden showers, and I jumped at the chance to try something new. Because really, who doesn’t want to pee on another willing human being for fun?

    At 9:00 a.m. I got the text that her submissive was amenable to her plan, and I immediately started pounding Mason jars full of water. My friend said that she wanted me “practically bursting” by the time I arrived, and even though my spirit was willing, my body had other ideas. My system figured we were doing some type of cleanse, and after the first couple quarts of water, I was in the bathroom. Which meant that I had to drink even more, so that I could pee on command for the guy. I tried to work, but instead I made one long, circuitous route from the kitchen to get water, upstairs to my office to drink it, and then to the bathroom. The entire time I asked myself, “can I hold it?” “How bad do I really have to pee?” “Do I think I have enough pee to provide a satisfying experience?”

    I arrived at the house at my allotted time (after downing another quart of water on the drive over) and opened the front door, knowing in advance that she would leave it unlocked for me. The sunken living room to my left was dominated by a wooden Saint Andrew’s Cross and a huge square frame that she used for tying up willing submissives. There was a tall, middle-aged man against the cross, naked, and stroking his very large cock. I had just enough time to murmur an appreciative hello before my friend waved me over.

    I barely had enough time to discard my purse before she had pulled a chair in front of the man and ordered me to strip. I did so as she scurried out of the room, only to return moments later with a large glass of water. I almost groaned out loud at the thought of drinking more, but she warned me that we wouldn’t start until all that water had disappeared down my throat.

    Sometimes it is so hard being a helpful submissive.

    I sat on the chair and opened my thighs wide, watching the naked man with greedy eyes. I quickly learned that I could masturbate and drink a glass of water at the same time. It’s slightly less difficult than patting my head while rubbing my stomach at the same time. The water was icy in contrast to the heat coming off my body. Every movement of his hand, from the base of his erection to the tip, made me think dirty thoughts about impaling myself. That wasn’t part of the game plan, so I concentrated on edging myself ever closer to orgasm. My legs started to tremble–I was so close. But my friend appeared with a Hitachi and motioned us upstairs. I was a little disappointed and tried not to pout. After all, this scene wasn’t about me getting off. It was about fulfilling the desires of another submissive.

    My friend expertly tied a long cotton shoestring around the man’s cock and balls, making his penis even larger than before, the color deepening into a dark red. We crowded into the bathroom, two naked people and one fully dressed, while she ran warm water in the shower to make it more comfortable for her submissive. She told him to lie on his back in the tub and instructed me to straddle him while I masturbated anally. Again, this was easier than patting my head while rubbing my stomach. I climbed into the tub and placed one foot on the soap holder so that he had a good view of my pussy and would be able to see my dildo move in and out of my anus. The entire time that it took for me to position myself, the sub rubbed his cock and ate up every inch of my body with his blue eyes.

    I felt the flutter of butterflies in my stomach as I stood over him, but I also experienced a rush of adrenaline. I knew in that moment that I was going to pee on that boy like a motherfucking champion urinator. (That’s totally a thing.) My friend crouched beside him and whispered filthy things in his ear as I let go of my golden stream. It splashed all over his genitals and against my legs. A small part of me had the instinctive reaction of “ew, gross!” A bigger part of me reveled in the sensations–the feeling of warm liquid trickling over my skin accompanied by the slight smell of ammonia in the air. Possessing control over myself, and to some degree, this other person was a big adrenaline rush. In that moment, his pleasure was mine to play with and do what I willed. I was grinning like a mad person, high on exhilaration and the dildo’s friction.

    The man groaned, and his pace quickened. I mirrored him, knowing that even if I didn’t orgasm, it felt too damn good to stop. I let out a gasp of surprise as the anal orgasm blew through me, and I grabbed on to the tiled wall for support. I collected myself as my friend and I both watched as he shouted and ejaculated on to his stomach a few moments later. We were a smiling, laughing, happy mess.

    My friend asked me later about the scene, and I was pleased to report that I had nothing but good things to say about my experience, even though I spent the rest of the evening peeing in the normal, boring bathroom kind of way. I’m looking forward to the next time she calls, because I do love helping my friends.


  2. Golden Showers: Two Perspectives

    March 12, 2014 by Heather Cole

    When it comes to watersports (Urban Dictionary definition: “In BDSM terminology, refers to sensual or erotic play involving bodily fluids, typically urine, saliva, and less commonly, blood. Considered ‘edge-play’…”) Nikki has had more experience than me, and she has written about her good times with Mr. K on Vagina Antics. When I entered the BDSM lifestyle, urine used as a facet of play time didn’t hit my radar. Not in a oh-this-is-so-gross-I’ll-never-do-it way, but more like I didn’t know it was a thing. In fact, Nikki didn’t discuss her water games with me until she was ready to write her blog post. My reaction was “you did WHAT? Of course you should write about it!” And that was my first exposure to erotic play involving pee. We can all blame Nikki Blue.

    We’re writing about both our perspectives today, because they’re so different. We both have fun with watersports but in different ways. I was going to make a joke about y’all reading in the “splash zone” but never mind. I’ll keep it classy.

    Enjoy!

     

    Heather

    On my list of kinks, urine was in the ‘I don’t have a fetish about this, but if you really want to I’m game to try something” category. It was never added to my play list, because I was having so many other firsts with D/s and my master. Urine first entered our conversation after a dominant friend of ours related a story where he used his sub hard and when she was crumpled on the floor in a sweaty, teary mess, he pissed on her then walked out of the room. I know what you’re thinking. Holy shit, that sounds so MEAN. For those masochists among us who were into a little humiliation, though, there was something poetic and degrading and… it gave me tingles. Not because of the physical feeling of being pissed on, or the actual urine, but the drama of the scene. There she lay, utterly depleted and used emotionally and physically, and the closing action was to be a receptacle of his piss. Afterwards he scooped her up, showered her, snuggled and told her how much he loved her. But in that moment, in that scrap of time in their universe, she was this thing to be used in whatever way he wished. From my perspective of masochist and slave, there was something terrible and beautiful in that like the best kind of dark fairy tale.

    After I related that anecdote, the element of watersports was assimilated into the fantasies of sir. He liked to brainstorm out loud, so I heard a lot of scenarios escape from that man’s mouth. Many of them freaked me the fuck out, but that was half the fun for both of us. He wouldn’t do most of them, because his intention wasn’t to damage me. Hurt me, yes, but not damage me. He began talking about pissing on me, and I listened, reacting appropriately when the ideas became extreme. And then one day as we showered together, he pissed on me. I didn’t have to look down to know he was doing it. He had this expression on his face that I could only describe as one that my cat had when I accidentally walked in on him using the litter box. The one that said he knew I’m watched him do his business and he could give two flying fucks. Sir had a similar attitude. Part of me wanted to act in a ridiculously squeamish way and whine about how GROSS it was even though it wasn’t disgusting at all. I mean, who didn’t pee in the shower on occasion? My reactions, though, were part of what sir looked for, so I sighed loudly and set about washing myself again in a resigned manner, ever the practical slave.

    The next time, though, I was sitting on the toilet after a particularly rough fucking. I still wore a sports bra and was taking a breather and relieving myself. Sir walked in the bathroom, as he often does (I’m prohibited from privacy so all doors were open when it was only the two of us), and ordered me to spread my legs wider. Next thing I knew, he was pissing into the toilet. I think my mouth dropped open, and before I could utter a word, he directed his stream over my breasts. I shrieked, NOT ON MY SPORTS BRA! He laughed and told me to get in the tub if I was going to complain.

    “I can’t believe you’re doing this!” I squealed and stepped gingerly into the shower.

    I was aware of the cooling piss dripping down my abdomen and the slight smell of ammonia. Part of me still couldn’t believe he was going to continue. The air felt cool in contrast to the hot urine, and I stood in partial shock as he pissed all over the front of my body. He smiled at my reaction then shook his head with mock chagrin.

    “What kind of girl stands still for a man to piss on her?”

    I felt my cheeks grow hot with shame. “A dirty girl,” I whispered.

    “Do you feel dirty?” he asked. I nodded, peeking at him through my lashes. The smile of satisfaction on his face made my heart beat harder.

    “How embarrassing for you” he replied.

    I was mortified and ashamed, and as soon as those two elements combined, I started to feel aroused. As sir watched me squirm, I wanted to fuck him again. Lips, fingers, tongue… I didn’t care. I was his dirty girl, the one he knew would do almost anything to please him. It was uncomfortable and the pee was starting to turn cold, but the look in his eyes as he watched my small humiliation made it all worth it. Eventually he helped pull off my bra and started the shower for me.

    “You’re such a good girl,” he said as he pulled the shower curtain closed. “Get cleaned up. I’m not done with you yet.”

    Nikki:

    Part of the beauty of my relationship with Mr. K is that we play with few limits. We’re open to trying most anything together and we are incredibly turned on by each other’s scent and body fluids. His slow licks down my sweat-soaked back while he fucks my ass make my head spin, he nearly orgasms when I spit in his mouth, and precum leaks from the tip of his cock when he cleans me with his tongue after I pee. And after everything, he kisses me long and deep, sharing what he loves with me. He’s always said he would never do anything to me that would keep him from kissing me afterward. Yep, he’s a keeper.

    I’ve written here and there about our foray into Watersports, so I won’t bog y’all down with the same warm, wet details, but I will say I still haven’t been able to successfully pee on Mr. K due to my bladder’s performance anxiety issues. And it’s something I desperately want to do for him. I can pee when we shower together and while sitting on the toilet with his fingers between my legs, but for now, peeing ON him seems to be a hard limit for my bladder. Fucking bladder.

    Like Heather, I get peed on as we shower too. Every time. But the difference between us is that I expect it, want it even. It’s a totally natural act for us and I love the feeling of the warm fluid streaming over my body. I watch as it flows and the look of pleasure on Mr. K’s handsome face as it does is a super huge bonus.

    With that having been said, it’s not often I’m able to say something that surprises Heather, but when it comes to my Watersports tales, I leave her in a constant state of WHAAAAAA? And I confess I kinda like it. I may have even rendered her speechless when I told her Mr. K had peed on my face, boobs, and in my mouth. I think she was pretty shocked when I didn’t find it gross, humiliating, or feel dirty, but that’s not how it was intended to be received. Mr. K would be horrified at the thought of making me feel that way. He pees on me because to him, drenching me with his body fluid is a wonderfully intimate expression. It’s a moment of sharing I will always welcome. Every golden, salty drop.