Piss off

When i was a teenager, one of the guys on my hockey team showed us this strange discoloration on his foot. We all looked at it up close, fascinated by the patterns of green and purple blotches spread across his skin. Our coach came in to the locker room, saw us gawking at our teammate's foot and added his two scents to break up the crowd.

"Athlete's foot. From the showers. You gotta piss on your feet to kill it before you get out."

Thanks, Coach. Ever since then, i've pissed on my feet whenever i've taken a shower in a public place, and i don't think twice about the fact that i'm spraying urine all over myself. In fact, i take such a casual approach to my own micturation that i've never really found an erotic urge to pee on someone else.

However, i'm fascinated by a girl's relief of her own bladder.

I used to "accidentally" break into the bathroom when i knew my sister was taking a leak, just because i couldn't believe she did it sitting down. Any girl i've been with, i've thrilled at watching them piss. It sounds different than when men do it. Our urine is concentrated into a thin liquid spear whose primary noise comes from the surface off which it splatters. Whereas, the female stream takes the form of a ribbon of urea, that whistles into the air as she squeezes it out.

I could take or leave my urine, but the female's liquid waste excites me to no end. Thus the few times i've involved it in a predicament session.

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She was a young freshman in college who'd stumbled into a chatroom i intermittently floated through. Of the dozen or so feminine handles listed in the chatroom's roster, her's was the most appealing and realistic-sounding. We struck up a conversation, where i tried my best to assuage her doubts about my character (as any good and intelligent girl should have with a complete strange male) all the while disguising the ravenous desire i felt to warp this relatively untouched lamb.

Over time, we developed trust in each other that opened the way to her offering me a glimpse of her through her webcam. A very beautiful girl met me the first time i accepted her invitation to view her. But that was not the dominant thought in my mind. Instead, i felt an immediate urge to control and manipulate her.

The presence of an impending force that boiled up the more and more we spoke clanged many a bell in my head. I knew this pull from previous experiences where i'd come to label it "The Gain". All it took was a few words between us, and i could feel this intense exchange of energy passing back and forth.

One afternoon, we'd been chatting for an hour or so, and she casually mentioned that she had to go to the bathroom. Perhaps it was the fact that she informed me of this need, or maybe i would've grabbed the reins in another way, but i let the internal demons speak. They said "no".

"But i have to really go bad."

I offered that it was informative to hear, but she, for the moment must remain exactly where she was. Minutes passed, with not much substance shared from either of us.

"Please, i really really need to go."

I asked her if she had a tall glass. She responded affirmatively. I told her that if she in fact needed to relieve herself so badly, that she must do it in this tall glass and return, with not a drop spilled. Streaming across the internet, i got an assortment of looks via her webcam first of pure frustration, followed by exasperation, and then finalized by reservation and acceptance. She lifted herself from her seat, and left the room.

A few minutes later, she returned and showed me the large square-sided glass filled with her own urine. I told her to place it on her desk, and resumed the conversation from where we'd left it. However, i never took my mind off the collection of liquid that sat inches away from her keyboard.

"What am i supposed to do with this glass?"

Up until this moment, i'd no idea what i wanted her to do with it. As i felt the familiar energy flow into my body, the exact prescription for this glass of urine came to me.

"I want you to take the glass in your hand. Lift it up to your mouth, i want you to hold it there, and do not move it away."

I still remember the blank stare from her into the optical unit stationed atop her computer, capturing her image that was delivered to my laptop. No more than five seconds passed before she grasped the glass and raised it to her lips. Her posture, the way her hair hung over her ears, everything about her broadcast the anger she felt at being put in this position. But, underlying this sternness, i could see a delicious plea for mercy. Even though she chose not to articulate it, that she was in the position she was, glass held against her mouth, the impact was very clear.

I realized as her hand positioned a pint of her own urine at her lips, and the smell of the warm liquid wafted into her nose, that she'd exhibited an understanding, a grasp of the lesson i sought to offer her. This compliance was all that i needed. After five or 6 minutes, i instructed her to lower the glass back down to her desk. As she left to empty the liquid into the toilet, i was struck by how meaningful a experience could be by merely controlling someone's basic biological functions.