We were walking back to his car after dinner and I was suggesting things that he might like in a playful, “I’m going to guess your favorite sexual proclivity while I hold my leftovers and you unlock the car door," kind of way. I was at the peak of my sexual awakening and figured I might as well try anything once (the exceptions being scat, children and blood play. I asked him how we should go about it, all the while maintaining a coy, sexy attitude while I figured out exactly how this was supposed to work. In theory, I would end up peeing on his chest and then we would work up to me peeing directly into his mouth and on his face, but only later, once we got the basics down. I knelt over him and realized in a sudden moment of sheer panic that there was no way in hell it was going to be that easy. A girl, naked, squatting over a grown man’s chest while he lays on the bathroom floor with the lights off, his eyes closed, hands at his sides while the faucet happily produces ounce after ounce of liquid as if it’s just that easy.
I suggested urine in jest and looked up at his face as he answered. After what seemed like an hour but was really only a few minutes, I gave up.
That night, I bought a tin of mints at a gas station two blocks from the bar on my way home, just to use their bathroom.
My bladder hurt so much and every step I took was like setting fire to my insides. I told him to close his eyes and keep his hands away from my body.
His face told me everything I needed to know, even without the silence and bashful demeanor he suddenly slipped into. He kissed me adoringly and we laughed about it and I shooed him out of the bathroom so that I could pee normally. A few nights later, we tried again with a different approach.