I’m trying to think of what to write about and I’m stuck. I was on my way into the bathroom and I thought I had something I wanted to write about but then I remembered I basically already had a story like that which I had stopped writing a while ago. My google docs is littered with the carcasses of partly written stories and ideas.
What I was going to write was from a thought that entered into my head as I saw the door of the women’s bathroom close, but didn’t see who had gone in. If it had been certain people I work with the thought wouldn’t have come anywhere close to me, but the thought that it might be others made it stick. It’s the same thing that had caused me to write the part of the story months ago.
There was a girl that worked here. I wasn’t obsessed with her but I was intrigued by her. We’ll say her name is Helen. She was young and awkward and very cute. I had conjured up a story in my head where she would be into piss play as a dark secret and it would come out by chance based on my character's past.
I loved the idea of this seemingly innocent, sweet girl having such a filthy, depraved fetish. At the time I was also going past five years of not having had sex with a woman and I was in desperate need of touch, so my character’s desire was to have Helen become his lap pet, which was also the name of the story. My character would ask her to climb onto his lap and straddle him face to face while letting her full bladder empty out.
It’s an ecstasy that is felt deeper by the shame of it.
She’s not supposed to piss her pants.
I’m not supposed to have this 26 year old girl on my lap when I’m 40.
I’m not supposed to want to feel her empty her bladder on my lap.
And is that it? Do we kiss? Do we want to? Is that all she wanted, was to feel the warmth of her piss running from her bladder and down her thighs onto me?
I had thoughts that I wanted her to be wearing jeans. The heavy denim would soak up most of the urine and hold it. The hot stream of her piss cooling within a couple of seconds of her bladder being empty and all she’s left with, all we’re both left with, is the pungent smell, the soaked clothing and the awkward shame of sitting in her piss.
Would I empty my bladder too, pissing my pants to be in the same state as her, even if it wouldn’t really have much effect on her? Probably not. I like the kink to be hers alone that I’m participating in. The original story was of my character being aroused listening to women urinate in the bathroom. He, or I, didn’t do it on purpose at first but kind of stumbled into it and the sound took hold more than anything. Now, decades later, I would find myself stumbling upon a girl who had a similar interest and wants to play it out, but also is ashamed of it and doesn’t want it to be known by anyone else.
But what has my current brain circling back to this story is that I’m stuck on one thing, one question. Can I listen to you pee?
It’s not a question you ask just anyone. It’s not a question you ask anyone at all. It’s perverted and creepy. Anyone asking such a thing would be met with disgusted and horrified stares.
“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”
“That’s disgusting!”
“You’re making me extremely uncomfortable, please don’t ever come near me again.”
That’s about the jist of it, or at least the best case scenario a person would get if they ever asked someone if he could listen to them pee.
So what is it? What is it about listening to a woman pee that has me interested in writing an erotic story about it? It’s got to be about that shame and depravity. And also, probably, that deeply intimate feeling we don’t consider when we’re in the bathroom by ourselves and emptying our bladder or bowels. It’s the vulnerability of it that is arousing, being invited into such a personal and typically solitary moment.
I think I would even go beyond just having Helen piss for my character. At the climax of the story, before sex and passion are introduced, I’d have one of them sit on the toilet and make eye contact with the other, maybe even hold their hands, as they had a bowel movement. Yes, go ahead, say that’s gross and disgusting. Close the browser. Stop reading. But it’s the intimacy of the moment that they’re sharing, however fucked up that is.
Helen wants to be vulnerable for my character and her eyes tear up as she pushes and strains. I would squeeze her hands and lace my fingers with hers, slipping to my knees off the side of the bathtub where I had been sitting and I would kneel between her legs and press my forehead to hers. It would be a cathartic moment for her and he would share in another person's intimate moment, something he’s been lacking in his life and why he’s warped it into a fetish.
They would shower and clean themselves up together then go to the bedroom and have wild, lust filled sex. They would both orgasm and lay panting together in the bed, falling asleep in each other’s arms. When we woke and I had to go to the bathroom she would ask to go with me, both of us walking naked to the bathroom. She would watch and ask if she could hold it and point it at the toilet and I would laugh a little, but not much.
“Sure,” I’d say.
She would walk around and press her naked body against my back while leaning slightly to one side so her arm could reach around and cup my penis in her hand. I would groan softly and she would smile into the back of my arm.
“Careful, play with it too much and I won’t be able to,” I’d reach my hand around and grab at her hip and try to reach her ass.
“Just do it. I want to feel what it’s like as it comes out of you.”
“What do you mean?” I’d ask, puzzled.
“Like, is it water through a pipe that I can feel as it trundles down and out? Is it like the gush of a hose as the water turns on? Will I be able to feel that at all?”
“Well,” I’d say, “it’s more like the hose but I’m not sure if you’ll be able to feel it. Here, let me just,” I’d close my eyes and concentrate.
It would be hard. Having her naked body against me and her hand cradling my penis would arouse me to no end. I’d just want to fuck her but I also needed to pee. Plus, she wanted to feel it so I’d focus and think of running water and eventually it would come and she would not know what she was doing and instead of pointing the tip towards the bowl she had just lazily gripped it and the stream of piss splattered along the back of the toilet.
She would overcorrect and the stream of urine would move back and forth before finally settling into the bowl. The splash of water trickled down to nothing, but before it stopped I would place my hand over hers so she didn’t pull it away.
“Here, you won’t know this but as a guy you can’t just stop and put it away when you’re done pissing.”
“Peeing,” she would say.
“Huh?”
“Peeing. Say peeing. I like it better than the word pissing. It’s less crass. Or, for moments like this anyways.”
I’d nod and smile, “well, when you’re a guy and you’re peeing you can’t just put it away. There’s a bit that will dribble out and stain your clothes and sometimes run down your thigh. You’ve got to give it a shake or a tug, like this.”
I held her hand in mine and with my thumb and forefinger clasped around hers I stroked forward from the base of my penis to the head, then repeated that two or three times.
She sang, smiling, “you shake it three times you’re playing with yourse-e-elf.”
I laughed and shook my head.
“How do you know who Good Charlotte is?”
“Don’t you mind that. Are you done?”
I nodded and she let my deflated penis slip from her palm and then gave it a pat as it hung, shrunken against my testicles.
“Let’s go eat. No clothes though. Let’s stay naked as long as we can.”
And that’s it. That’s the story. The way intimacy can bring two people together and the way they use their real life issues and turn them into fetishes and kinks to be able to cope with what they’re lacking, while at the same time also feeling ashamed of those things so it keeps them from finding what they’re lacking.
Yeah, sex is therapy. Did you think you’d find that kind of conclusion at the end of a fetish story about a girl pissing her pants? Maybe, maybe not. It was a fun ride though. Now I just need to finish the story.