widowcentauri

Three Pissing Scenes in New England

In Adventure, American Dominatrix, bathroom, BDSM, beer, bitch, blood, Comedy, corporate america, culture, dating, deviance, dominatrix, drama, drinking, Education, Family, fetish, fun, gender, Gender bending, GLBTQ, Golden Showers, Happy Hour, kink, Lorelei, Lorelei Erisis, Massachusetts, one-woman show, Parties, paying for it, performance, perverts, pissing, politics, porn, Public, queer, Ruby Shower, sensual domination, Sex, sexual politics, sexuality, Tour, Touring, Widow Centauri on November 4, 2009 at 7:46 pm

Thanks to the massive budget cuts that the California state school system is in the midst of, I had a ten-day furlough season.  I thought I could stick around and take care of the things I need to take care of or I could head to New England.  You might know how much I loathe Sandy Eggo and you might already realize that I split town.

My girlfriend, Lorelei Erisis, went back east when I realized that I was going to go to graduate school in San Diego.  We came here looking for places, opportunities and good times only to discover a hostile environment where people would not shake her hand and local queers were doing everything in their power to mimic the straight heteronormative lifestyle that hegemonic forces so demand.  We realized pretty quickly that she needed to live somewhere less volatile.

She went back east and I stayed here.  It was, and is, awful.  We are in love.  We are best friends.  Why does she have to live thousands of miles away?  Fuck, can you hear the sadness?

Anyway.  Sob sob, poor me, waaaaa.

I went to New England and had an awesome time.   I got a lot of work done at the stonewall center.  I had a chance to talk to some people about gender variant neologisms. I pissed on some boys.

So, on with the porn.

The first few days I was there I was in the midst of a huge deadline.  I hade a paper on crime theory due and I was on the rag.  I was vile.  As soon as I turned it in I looked up and realized I had to pee.  A nifty sort of boy contacted me.  He confessed that he used to play at dungeons but because the sessions were so cookie cutter ze ceased to continue the activities.

We met in a bar in downtown Northampton in the middle of the day.  I had a bloody marry that was not strong enough, spicy enough, or bloody enough.  He drank a beer.  We sat there discussing the finer points of verbal humiliation.  When our drinks were finished we headed to the Hotel Northampton.  It is a big beautiful historic hotel.  Not the sort of place people designed to meet for smutty activities.

At the bar this boy tells me that she has “prepared the room.” Knowing that we have agreed to a golden shower I asked if she covered the room in plastic wrap, like Dexter would.  Should I be frightened?  What am I walking into? I wondered.

When we got to the room there was a big blue tarp on the bed and a door that lead to a shared balcony. The balcony was right above the main drag in this cute little college town.   Highly visible.

I put her in a sexy one-piece girdle bra thing.  Beige, with a crotch snap and huge D cups that she could not fill.  Poor boobless boy.  Then we went out on the balcony.  I had her prance around on the balcony in her skivvies.  I took off my pants and told her to lie down.  I pissed on her belly, on her crotch, on her face.

“Stand up and look at the people down on the street” I told her.  I made her prance around some more.  We were only on the second floor.  She was wet with piss, standing in a one-piece panty, bra, girdle combo.  Chest hair popping out of the bra.  Flat chested hairy wet bitch.  It was a beautiful sunny day.  People were out on the street.  Lots of people. Anyone who looked up could have seen us up there on the balcony.  I made eye contact with a middle-aged hippie type.  He saw.

Though the sun was out, it was October in New England.  My bitch was wet and without pants on, I was cold.  We headed back in to the tarp-covered bed.  I had him lay on the blue tarp and I stood over him, letting my piss trickle.  I asked him a question and when he went to answer it I let some more piss fall onto his face.  I was having a blast.

He wanted to be degraded, but didn’t want to be called any of the standard “pig, slut whore” type names.  I started in on his capitalistic lifestyle.  His carbon footprint.  His SUV.  His over indulgent house in the suburbs.  I was having a super sexy time insulting this American.  I got down.  Pissing and articulation of all things wrong with the world.  That is what this bitch was getting.  All the while we are on a blue tarp covered bed, in a snooty themed hotel with floral print screaming at me from every wall and window covering.  A puddle of piss had formed around my left foot.  “Slurp it,” I ordered.

After a bit we moved to a strip tease.  I had her put on an extra layer of bra / panties.  “Get up in the window and dance” I told her. Sadly, the only music in the place was some strange folk concert on the telly.  The sound quality sucked, the music was laden with banjos, and my hairy, flat-chested, piss-covered, panty-wearing bitch was trying her damdest to shake her flat manly ass.

I laughed.  She danced. I laughed, she danced.  She rolled around on the floor like a stripper would.  I laughed.

Eventually I put her in the tub, stood over her and had her stroke herself.  I pissed in her nose, in her eyes, on her dick.  I drenched her. She came.  Then I spanked her with the remote control.

 

Then …

I had one of the strangest sessions ever while I was in noho.  An old man – old like white hair, pot belly, probably in his 70’s old – called me and suggested that he was a big fan and wanted to get together.  After a short conversation we agreed to meeting at a cheap sounding motel at the edge of Smith College.

When I got there he was not able to articulate what sort of session he wanted.  He said he didn’t have any experience. I asked him to tell me a story.  He said he didn’t have any.

The room had this huge heart shaped bathtub.  “Strip and get in” I told him.  I had a gallon of water in me already.  “Get out, put on the panties, and get back in” I instructed.  I stood precariously over this love tub, in my own black cotton thong and pissed just enough to get them wet.  I slapped them thinking “I don’t think I have ever pissed in my panties before.” I liked the way it felt.  Wet panties dripping over an old man.  This was about to get very hot.

I tried to get some information about his fantasies out of him.  I got nothing.  He was dull, vapid, boring me to tears.  I pissed a slow trickle over him, through my panties.  I was amused by the sensation of dripping wet panties.  I shot a little onto his white hair.   He seemed totally indifferent.  Maybe it was not about to get hot.  I was still hopeful.

After what seemed like three hours but was more like twenty minutes my piss stream dried up. I was shocked.  I drank a gallon of water.  Where in the hell was it?  Today is the day my body decided to absorb it? Am I piss shy if I’m not turned on?  I had no idea.  My piss was gone.  Our chemistry was non-existent.  I was trying to piss on an old man in a heart shaped tub.  There was no music.  There was no conversation.  Then there was no piss.

Mua~mwa~muagh.

Not the sexiest of times.  Certainly one of the most awkward.  I left with the impression that this old man simply wanted to be near me for an hour.  I wish he had said that on the phone.  We could have had lunch.

 

Then …

Thank gawd, at the last possible minute, I lined up a public golden shower.  I love these.  Love Them!

We met at the Wal-Mart.  As we went in I put my hand out.  He put money in it.  We walked to the back of the store.  I took him in the family rest room.  I locked the door so a Wal-Mart shopping family didn’t catch us.  “Take off your jacket and put it on the dirty baby changer.  If you want your clothing to stay dry, strip.” I told him.  He looked puzzled.  “If you don’t mind getting soaked just lay down in your clothes.” He laid down on the floor in his black pants and black t-shirt.  I dropped my pants and stuck my ass over his face.  “Open” I demanded.  I squirt a quick shot of piss into his mouth.  “Swallow” I ordered.  He gulped it down and opened wide again.  I shot piss into his mouth and he swallowed it.  This happened several times and then I let the piss flow so that it got in his nose, in his eyes.  He was sputtering.  It was fucking hilarious.  I was giggling as he tried to avoid drowning in my piss.  I was laughing and pissing.  He was swallowing and sputtering.  He told me it was like going swimming as a kid.  I pissed all over him.  Got his clothes wet.  Shot my full bladder all over his face.  I had to piss something awful.  It was fucking hot.  I grabbed a piece of toilet paper, wiped, threw it at his face, pulled up my pants and headed out the door.

As I was leaving the parking lot he walked in front of the car I was driving with the biggest smile I have every seen on someone leaving Wal-Mart.

My heart was pounding, my pussy was throbbing, my pocket was full of cash.  I was Happy.

  1. Thanks, Widow! I’m glad you left New England on a good piss note …

    Despite that floor looking kind of clean, I didn’t want strip and get my skin on the floor …. besides, in addition to enjoying to imbibe in the golden, I kind of like smelling like a piss pot on the ride home. A former mistress required that of me and I sort of got used to it.

    When I left I looked back at the puddle, thought that was a waste (no pun), and hightailed it out, dripping all over myself. As I walked by the front registers the manager kind of did a double take but didn’t say anything … I would have loved to hear him over the intercom, “clean up in the bathroom!”.

    I literally left with piss dripping off my bald head …

    And you’re right, I have never left Walmart with a bigger grin on my face!

    Thank you again for the “hit and run”. It was fun.

  2. For sure, you are excellent!

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