Golden Showers

He opened his mouth wide and told me to go, but I couldn’t figure out how to aim.

I didn’t plan on peeing on him. I didn’t wake up and think, hey, I can’t wait to cover him in urine. I didn’t anticipate standing naked over him in the bright light and chill air of an Autumn afternoon, but there I was. I looked at him, his mouth open and eyes tightly closed, so ready to accept me. I had to go so badly I could barely keep it in, but when the moment came I hesitated. Because, well, you just don’t pee on people, I guess, especially people you love – unless they have asked you very sweetly to do so.

Just when I think I’ve experimented with all of the deviant things that have ever sounded hot to me, something comes up that I have to try (or try again), just in case. I’ve talked before about peeing and my explorations with urinating outside because it’s been so freeing and empowering. But peeing rarely feels at all sexual for me. If anything, it brings up a childlike mischievousness.

Harold started asking me to pee on him right at the beginning of our relationship. At first I kind of laughed him off. Then I said that he’d never get me to do that, knowing full well that he would talk me into it eventually, but I was determined to make him earn that victory. He would say, “Come on, pee in my mouth. Then you will know that there isn’t any part of you that I don’t want.” I was just thankful he wasn’t asking for my shit.

I had a certain squick reaction. I know that urine is sterile and not a problem unless you are really sick, but early toilet training that says pee is dirty is pretty strong. I know that I am not at all interested in being peed on myself. But would it really be so bad to give Harold what he wanted? Did I actually have a reason to be squicked or just conditioning?

At one point I was pretty sure Harold was going to drown and I was going to have to explain.

Eventually I gave in to his suggestions and squatted over his face to let a small stream of urine into his mouth. It helped that I had been practicing peeing outside and gotten skilled. We felt victorious to have accomplished this desire of his. It wasn’t sexual, although it had the feel of something forbidden. We didn’t get turned on, just felt closer to each other.

For a while that was good enough. Years have gone by. Lately Harold has been suggesting I pee in his mouth again. I’ve been questioning him, trying to understand. Is it a fetish? It seems not – for some people doing something “dirty” would be erotic. For Harold it’s part childlike curiosity about how girls’ bodies work, part wanting to break down taboos, and part desire for absolute intimacy. I can understand all that. I have to admit that in a totally geeky Dune kind of way, sharing my body’s waters with someone seems like a sign of deep respect.

Yesterday, Harold and I enjoyed a rare 6 hour long date with each other. Midway through, when we were sweaty and naked in front of the fire, I realized that I had gone through nearly a liter of water and I needed to pee terribly badly. I had been waiting because it can be easier to orgasm if my bladder is full, but it had reached emergency level of urgency. Harold again said, “Why don’t you just pee in my mouth?” Well, okay, I thought. Why not take one for science? Let’s see what happens.

I was surprised at how blissful Harold looked in the throes of being showered on.

It took us a few more minutes to negotiate and come up with a plan. I insisted that we needed photos. We decided to go outside, even though it was cold because clean up would be easier. This is how I found myself poised over Harold’s prone naked body, camera in hand, giggling like crazy and trying not to pee until I was ready.

I felt awkward. Nothing in my life had really prepared me for this scenario. Harold had his mouth open and I couldn’t figure out how to take pictures. Have you ever had to pee so bad that you couldn’t remember how to relax the right muscles and let go? Yeah. I was nervous. I finally managed to start and it was a huge gush. Harold moved up to catch it. I was fascinated and slightly appalled watching him sputter and gasp. I was afraid he would drown and I have have to explain to the paramedics. And his wife. Taking pics was nearly impossible.

I stopped urinating as soon as I could control the flow. Harold laid back with a dreamy smile. I still had to go, so I just stood there straddling him, both of us watching the steady stream hit his belly. I’ve been taking my vitamins, so my pee is that lovely fluorescent color. I had a moment of surrender then, where I just let go of everything. I didn’t realize until that moment how much I hold back in my body. Right then I could see the erotic potential of golden showers. Warm body fluids connected us. It was a blessing or a benediction – like being born or christened, like holy water. His soul felt wide open to me.

I was taken by the artful and wide-spread spatter zone.

That moment passed. Fluids cooled, leaving us both chilled. I looked at Harold and wondered if I could ever kiss him again, then found that I could. We congratulated ourselves like kids getting away with something and ran inside to dry off. In the seamless way we have, we continued to make love.

I don’t know if this is territory that we’ll ever traverse again, but at least we had a good visit. Harold got his intimacy and acceptance. I got a glimpse of a Top space where I could really let go of everything. Golden showers are a weird and wild place. I’m intrigued, sort of in spite of myself.