Pickle Juice and Piss
» S&M Fantasies
Golden showers - piss used in BDSM. People with aesthetics much unlike mine call a top’s urine golden nectar. Were piss akin to an ambrosial drink of the gods and goddesses we wouldn’t be using it for power exchange. Like Gandhi we’d be drinking out own.
The time I drank a tall glass of piss I just chugalugged it. A mile beverage really. If you ever drank any of the early diet sodas sweetened with saccharine like the original Tab you’ve tasted much worse.
Nor did it humiliate me. I’d long known gay men pee on each other in cheerful ignorance of BDSM. And comments on an old entry taught me that heterosexual couples off do likewise as a form of happy unclean fun. I even used it as a mixer with vodka.
I made reference recently to nasty fantasies. Whatever that means. Among gay men I know there’s filth play. As a generic idea it leaves me neutral. For being pissed on to have emotional power it has to be pushed a bit.
A very long time ago I read in a gay tabloid of the sort that doesn’t exist anymore of a man pissing on the bathroom floor and making another lick it up. That worked for me. I guess I’m a very oral kinkster (a noun I don’t greatly favor but Mistress Matisse likes it).
In a backissue of Meatmen (now in Bitchy Jones’ possession) there was a drawing of a top pissing on the food in pet food bowl he was about to make his slave eat. You ever see something that seemed so erotically arousing it is as if giant planes are pressing against your brain?
My primary nasty piss fantasy has me supine in a shallow pit in the ground. A large sheet of plywood covers me. The only opening is a grill just above my face. The dominant drinks a six-pack of beer, pot of coffee: anything that will create lots of piss. Which, naturally, is directed against my face. For hours I lie there in piss-drenched mud.
In the alternate version I’m in a pit in the basement. On a floor above is a toilet with a pipe that empties above my pit. And I’m drenched again and again.
And few sex toys seemed more exciting than the throne of humiliation where your head becomes a part of a toilet. (No, no scat.)
Damn, I just don’t have a knack for getting to the point. Where’s the pickle juice?
Sardax, master of wicked artistry, has a drawing of a young man. I think he’s bound to a pole. A young miss is pressing something to his lips I think (all errors of recollection are my fault). Just enough moisture to a leave him hungry for more.
In another drawing the women, at least as I made it out, are feeding a blindfolded man pickles.
So I imagined a thirst scenario where I’m given pickle juice to drink. The fluid replenishes my tissues: keeps the scenario (sort of) healthy. But is so sour that my mouth feels even more desperately thirsty.
Comments
oh, you’ve outed me with this one. I was once hiking down a logging road in Washington, when I came to a bridge over a creek. There was a strapping young man wearing levis tucked into a shiny pair of black rubber thigh high waders. A fisherman, getting ready to go fishing. Being the fetishist I am, my mind started reeling with the sensuous possibilities of his rubber waders, his cock, etc. I hadn’t walked very far before I had to stop in the forest and provide myself relief, emptying myself into the ferns….
Out of that simple encounter grew a long series of rubber clad dominant men fantasies that gave me great pleasure to explore. One that evolved is relevant to this: While walking along a road in a forest I encounter an older man in shiny black rubber waders, I stare at his crotch, his black rubber, and make small talk with him, while I grow more and more aroused. In short order he notices my arousal and understands my lust, directing me to my knees to lick and smell his rubber apparel, and take his cock in my mouth. After a period of time he takes me in his truck to a cabin with a clearing. I am ordered to strip, am given a pair of rubber hip waders to put on and then led to the center of the clearing where I am tied to a post. A group of jovial, beer drinking men in rubber hip waders stand closely around me with their cocks out, periodically pissing into my waders and onto my body. This goes on for hours as the waders keep filling up with their warm piss sloshing against my flesh…
I find rubber and piss to be closely linked. Here’s one more: A woman at work kept a clear plastic bag with her swim cap and goggles in it to use the company pool. Being an ardent fetishist I wanted to ‘examine’ her bathing cap. I came into work one saturday and went to her office, retrieved the cap and began to lick and smell it, put it down my pants, rub myself with it, etc. I regularly began to borrow her swim cap and take it to the bathroom to masturbate and urinate into. Then I would wash it up and return it, promising myself this was so sick and stupid I should never do this again. One Saturday she showed up unexpectedly as I was stuffing her bathing cap down my pants in her office. I was mortified and she was furious. She made me tell her everything I had done with her swim cap and directed me to meet her at her house that evening. She answered the door and led me into her living room where I was told to strip and get on my hands and knees. She produced a paddle and spanked me with it furiously for awhile, getting out her rage. Then she placed the bathing cap I’d been abusing into a dog dish, like a rubber lined bowl, in front of me. She proceeded to squat and piss in the bathing cap in the dish, while I watched in fascination. She then ordered me to lap up her piss while I masturbated for her. In retrospect this last one is terribly self-serving, wouldn’t you say?
Posted by: alizarin55 | July 21, 2009 8:51 PM
Your imagination, good humor and robust enjoyment of your sexuality are a delight. Thanks for all the comments that you posted here.
Posted by: Richard | July 22, 2009 2:16 AM