Pee Perverts: The Awakening Of A Perversion

The girl lay on the table,waiting - just waiting.

I watched for a few seconds, wondering what was going to happen. The guy was just standing by her side, gently pulling on his cock. It was flaccid, unimpressive and I had a feeling that I had missed the most important part of the scene.

Why was the camera still rolling?

That was what I wanted to know.

So I carried on watching with nothing happening.

I was about to hit rewind when something unexpected and shocking happened - a stream of fluid fell from the end of the cock. The cock’s owner took aim and the stream responded by arcing up into the air. It splattered heavily onto the girl’s body.

I remember the shock I felt as I realised what I was watching.

He’s peeing on her.

And she… she was letting him piss on her.

On her body.

Why would she do that?

It was revolting, disgusting, unhygienic and shameful. I was repulsed by it and yet… there was something else, deeper down.

I was empathising with the girl, the submission of it as she allowed a man to fire his stream of filthy piss all over her body. I didn’t think I could be any more shocked than I already was but as the guy pissed up her body, over her belly and tits, the girl turned her head towards him and moved her open mouth under the glittering rainbow of fluid. Her eyes were open, looking not at him or his cock but into the camera as her mouth filled with the golden liquid.

She was looking at me as I looked at her.

She was pretty.

No, not just pretty; beautiful, stunningly so. And she was happy and horny – I could see that by the way she was touching herself. I knew the inner sensations which made a girl’s body twist like that; made her squeeze her own breasts and claw at her throat.

The camera turned away, faithfully following the pee stream as it moved back down her body but I saw it.

Saw it that first time.

Saw the movement in her throat.

I knew what that movement meant – she’d swallowed.

She’d had a mouthful of piss and without the camera watching, she could easily have spat it out, but she had chosen to swallow; chosen to take the guy’s waste fluids into her body.

Even as the stream traced down between her breasts, there was another separate stream of his piss swilling down inside her body, down her gullet towards her stomach.

I felt sick, partly with disgust at her and what she’d done but increasingly that disgust was turning inwards, towards me; disgust at the rising tide of excitement which was building in my body.

I couldn’t believe that something so appalling, so despicable could arouse me.

I felt like a pervert.

I was appalled with myself for the way I was responding: I was sexually excited and… I was going to masturbate.

Fuck!

Girls should not be masturbating while watching one of their own being humiliated and degraded.

My fingers were shaking so much it was almost impossible to undo my belt; almost impossible to undo the button on my jeans… especially given that I couldn’t drag my eyes away from the screen for even a second.

Pissing; that thing which should be done privately and shamefully in cubicles, locked away from prying eyes. And he was doing it in front of a camera.

I swallowed drily, realising I had never seen a man pissing before. I liked the way he did it; was envious of the control he had, the way he was sweeping the stream back and forth, up and down her body.

I wanted to be able to do that.

There was a fearful gasp at that thought.

It had come unbidden.

An intrusion into my life.

As I watched, the flow became a trickle and stopped. The girl wiped at her face and stood-up – she seemed so young and vulnerable. The guy helped her down off the table. And then something happened which changed the dynamic of the entire scene. She looked at her partner and… she smiled.

Just a little one.

But it was the most significant smile I’d ever seen.

It wasn’t for the camera - it was for him. It was a private moment between the pisser and the pissee. Suddenly, the camera felt like an intrusion, as though it had stumbled upon the two of them as they had been playing some private sex game.

That fleeting little smile changed everything for me. It told me that the girl had enjoyed it; she had enjoyed being pissed on.

It hadn’t just been something she’d been told to do, or paid to do.

I imagined waking-up as her and looking forward to being pissed on.

More shock, more excitement.

Did I want to be her?

My hand was inside my knickers now, my fingers clawing at my pussy – feeding an inferno; a confused cauldron of disgust and arousal.

I rewound the video and watched as spunk leapt out of the fully-hard cock. How much dirtier that act seemed, with the full knowledge of what was in store. My fingers worked with desperate urgency to satisfy the sexual hunger in my pussy and clitoris… but the opposite happened. As the video reached the previous starting point, the anticipation of what was in store for her made everything spiral out of control.

I was kneeling on the floor with my hand stuffed down the front of my jeans. I couldn’t touch myself the way I wanted to - the tension of the tight material prevented me from the doing the job properly.

But that just made the stimulation better – made me even more desperate. My mind transformed the dry girl on the screen into the girl walking away as the scene faded to black. Her hair plastered to her body, a body which was beaded with droplets of piss.

The droplets shone in the lights of the studio.

She looked beautiful, fresh and clean, as though she had just stepped from a bath. Yet she was dirty; the dirtiest girl I’d ever seen.

Covered in a man’s piss.

I was breathless.

How could she just get-up and walk away?

Who had been in the studio watching?

My eyes closed as I focused in on the dirtiest details.

As I was thinking of her and her body, my left hand followed the path hers had taken… crushing my breast and pulling at my throat.

“Oooh fuck!” It felt so good as I imagined my body covered with his piss. I toyed with the desperate excitement inside me, the explosions gathering under my fingers. I needed the almighty crescendo and let the sounds of her breathy gasps draw me to the point of no return.

The orgasm coiled with raw, claustrophobic power; so potent that I approached it with a combination of trepidation and anticipation.

It pulled me under, drowning my mind with images and colours. Most of them were dark and disturbing – disturbing because they were welling up from deep inside of me.

They weren’t the things I’d seen on the screen.

They were worse.

The crushing intensity of the pleasure was extended by the fact that it was impossible to control the endless filth in my head. Only when the muscles in my arm and fingers burned out and betrayed me was there an end to the thrilling ride… yet still I rubbed, seeking even more spasms until my very nerves froze.

Unresponsive, alien-feeling fingers made it more intense… just one more painful, needy little orgasm to ease the torment. By then it felt like someone else was doing it and I imagined it was the girl in the film touching me, resulting in a final, breathless bonanza of pleasure.

I felt cleansed, just as the girl in the video looked cleansed.

*****

It would be fair to say that I became obsessed with that scene. I watched it over and over, picking out new details each time. You didn’t have to wait for the smile at the end to see how much she loved every single second. The way she quickly positioned her body at the beginning of the scene spoke of her excitement at what was about to happen.

She wasn’t nervous; she was eager, eager to be pissed on.

There were subtle movements which told of her inner feelings. Far from the horror I had felt, the movements of her body told of her excitement as the stream of piss wandered over her flesh. Her back arched as she offered each tit in turn.

Her mouth opened as the man-made waterfall hit her neck. The gaping orifice definitely moved into the stream of piss, not the other way round; she wanted to take his piss into her mouth; she wanted to taste it.

And not just taste; there were two other distinct swallows from the one I’d seen on first viewing.

There was no doubting that she wanted to drink it. That revealed something startling; gave me an insight in the actress’ life.

She’d done this before and had enjoyed it.

My heart constricted as I thought the inevitable thought.

Would I enjoy it if someone did it to me?

There was only one way to find out.

Pee Perverts: The Awakening Of A Perversion

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