I stand up, turn towards Nick and unclasp my bra. I toss it to him and he grabs it eagerly. I turn away from him, bend over and start removing my pantyhose. The stockings slide off my shaved legs and he has full view of my butt, but I’m still wearing my thong.
I go back to him and grind my butt on him again. Alternating between taking an item off and grinding on him is making him crazy. I stand up again, this time to slide my panties off. Again, I bend over, so he can see my butt, now without any obstruction.
Bent over like this, he has the best view possible. I’m pretty certain he can see way up my butt. This is turning me on, too. I stay bent over for as long as my perfectly toned legs will let me and that’s when I feel it. A warm jet spray of fluid pouring all over my backside. He’s actually doing it. He is peeing on my butt! The fluid goes into my butt hole and trickles into my clitoris and labia.
“Start touching yourself,” he says.
I start to finger myself with one hand and use the other to rub my breasts.
“Ahhhh,” he says, as if experiencing some state of release. “You like that? Say you like it like a dirty filthy ho.”
“I like it. No, I loooove it daddy,” I autocorrect.
“Turn around,” he orders. “On your knees.”
I turn to face him and drop to my knees. He jerks my hair back and releases what’s left of his golden shower spray into my mouth. I’m not going to lie. Urine tastes absolutely gross. I don’t swallow it and let it trickle down my chin. He looks disappointed. I’m trying not to gag.
“You taste good, daddy,” I lie, wondering what happens next.
Does he drink more water to be able to do it again? Is this his grand opening or closing? The feeling of the hot urine on my skin sends a shiver up my spine. The pungent aroma fills the room. As far as fetishes go, this is NOT working for me. I have to say I feel sorry for those 14-year old girls R Kelly has been doing this to. How do you recover from something like this? I’m an adult and am already feeling violated.
“You’re not into it, I can tell,” Nick complains, letting go of my hair and stepping back.
I want to reassure him that I’m ok, but I can’t. I want us to move on to having a more normal sexual experience that will wipe all this out from my head. But he has other things in mind. He zips up his trousers and picks up his car keys from the table. Is this some kind of sick joke? Did he only need to use the bathroom — on me — and now he’s leaving?
“Stay,” I say, standing up. “I’d like you to stay.”
“You look disgusted,” he says.
“It’s my first time,” I say. “Besides, we can always do other stuff, right?”
The night he came to deliver my Christmas present springs to mind. There was no hint of this crazy stuff that evening. He was a great lover then, so there is light at the end of this tunnel.
“You’re dying to have a shower and brush your teeth,” he says.
I am. Of course I am, you just urinated on me, you sick pervert.
“It can wait,” I say instead, moving towards him. He holds his hand up, stopping me in my tracks.
“I need you to be into the stuff I’m into,” he says. “That’s the only way I’ll get off.”