Tonight is Halloween, and while the short and loud people are out pandering for sweets, I’m sitting here trying to put my most recent experience with my boyfriend into words. I know I’ve said it before, but we have encountered few limits since our relationship began. And it seemed the ones I thought were hard weren’t limits at all. Except for fisting. My babies didn’t wreck my vagina and there was no way a hand was going to.
We put a lot of effort into getting to know each other when we met, carefully peeling back the self-preserving layers to expose the core of our needs. In his opinion, there was more to me than met the eye. He suspected broaching the subject of me fucking him with a strap-on would give me pause. He felt my hesitation would quickly give way to curiosity, and soon after to a deep rooted desire. He was right, and that was only the beginning of our travels into virgin territory. But when he shared his wish for us to try Golden Showers, I faltered. I didn’t know what to say, and I damn sure didn’t know what to do.
Did I really want to pee on him? Did I really want him to pee on me? When was the right time to announce the need to empty my bladder? During foreplay? Over pancakes? Was it even related to sex at all? Fuck if I knew. The only thing I knew for certain was the thought of peeing on my boyfriend’s chest during my period was a bit much, even for a man who wears his red wings proudly and has no qualms about having regular threesomes with Auntie Flo.
Much discussion of the subject led to him sending me videos of him peeing, to sticking his hand between my legs as I sat naked on the toilet, and eventually to me sending him videos as I peed which he found incredibly erotic. The next step was for me to actually pee on him which I was still a little unsure about. But as our relationship grew stronger, so did my desire to please him. Once the decision was made, it seemed natural. It felt right.
The hunger in his eyes nearly stole my breath as he sat on his knees between my legs in the bathtub Sunday night. He lifted my foot to the edge and slid his hands up the inside of my thighs that were slick with our mingled fluids. Feeling the pressure of my full bladder, I attempted to relax my muscles to release the flow, and I was surprised when only a little came out. He teased me about having stagefright and pushed his fingers inside of me. They glistened in the dim light of the hallway as he spread the wetness on his chest before stroking his hard cock. His fingers found their way inside me again, then into his mouth, and back into me. The vision of him savoring the taste of us will forever be tattooed on my brain. I could have very easily orgasmed on demand. He thought it was slightly awkward and sweet. I thought it was the hottest thing I’d ever seen.
I couldn’t concentrate on peeing though. I couldn’t focus on anything but him on his knees and his fingers inside me. I ran my fingers through his thick hair and his lips brushed my stomach as he told me to relax while dipping his fingers inside me over and over again. But as hard as I tried, I couldn’t relax. I needed to pee, but it wouldn’t come out.
When it became obvious that stagefright was going to overshadow the performance and the grand finale would be nothing more than a handful of sparklers, he turned me around and bent me over. And as I planted my hands firmly on the shower wall, the sensations that followed were almost overwhelming. His tongue licking me everywhere, and his fingers filling and stretching both holes made my knees shake and my head spin. He worked me over with his hands until he was sure I’d safe out for the first time in our relationship. But I didn’t. It wasn’t until later when we were back in bed that I asked him how many fingers he had inside me. He held up his arm and traced an invisible line across the middle of his hand, his lips curling into a smile.
Okay, so I found out that fisting may not be a hard limit after all, and that peeing isn’t just peeing. I’m not giving up on it though. Does this mean that I took pleasure in the fetish itself? Or was it fulfilling my boyfriend’s fantasy that got me off? I don’t really know the answer to that. I do know that I want that wonderfully hot bathtub scene again. I just need to relax and according to a support group on Fet (yes, there are pee fetish support groups), he shouldn’t stimulate me until the flow begins.
Heather was fascinated by my inability to pee and even more so by my fisting revelation.
“Oh, how the mighty have fallen,” she snorted.
“Yeah, well I may have almost been fisted, but you’re going to be monogamous.”
“Don’t you use that word with me!”
*cue hysterical laughter*
I’m not above fighting dirty.
