Something Wet and Warm

This is a true story.

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We left the party around 10:30, earlier than most, but we were both eager to get on with our night.

Shortly after we left the city, he pulled over to the side of the road and turned off the car. A half smile formed on my lips and my mouth began to salivate at the thought of what was to come. He reached over and unbuckled my seat belt, then unzipped his fly and pulled out his cock. I eagerly leaned over and took him in my mouth, stroking my lips downwards over the head, swirling my tongue around the shaft, then engulfing his full length. I loved sucking his cock...the slightly musky taste, the way the soft skin stretched over turgid flesh feels between my lips, the low sounds of pleasure that emanate from his throat. I must have done a good job, because he pinched my nipple with his right hand, hard, just the way he knows I like it.

Suddenly I felt a stream of liquid hit the roof of my mouth, then flow over my tongue. Hot and tasteless. I moaned when I realized that he was pissing in my mouth, and quickly gulped, not wanting to spill any of it. This was not the first time he had done it, but every time it still took me slightly by surprise. Drinking his urine made me feel dirty, because it was so taboo...and that's why I liked it. I enjoyed being intimately degraded.

He stopped peeing and pulled my head up by my hair until I was looking at him, then slapped me across the face, suddenly, followed closely by a second, a third. I felt slightly violated, shocked, and at the same time rewarded by his blows. I smiled.

"Did you like that?" he asked softly.

"Yes," I answered.

"Why?"

"Because you taste good, and I like the way it makes me feel. Like a dirty slut. A receptacle. Your urinal."

He reached over and rubbed my crotch, which had become very wet. "You've soaked your jeans. Have I turned you into a piss slut, then?"

"Yes. I'm your piss slut."

"Well, in that case, you probably won't feel satisfied by that short drink, will you?"

"No, I want more."

"Are you still thirsty? Or should I piss on your head this time."

I gave him a somewhat quizzical look. I wasn't sure how he was going to pee on my head without getting piss all over his car, but I was certainly game to find out.

"My head. Please."

He opened his door and got out of the car. Walking over to my side, he opened my door, and the door behind it. To obscure what he was about to do to me, I realized later, but at the time it never occurred to me to wonder why he opened both doors.

"Close your eyes."

I complied.

I felt his hand grabbing my hair, pulling my head roughly out of the car, and only the seatbelt that was still bucked around my waist prevented me from falling out completely. I heard the quiet rasp of his zipper, then a few seconds later felt the warm wetness on the back of my head, soaking into my hair, running down my face. It felt wonderful, the warm piss trickling down my cool cheek, which was becoming chilled by the cold February night air.

He released my hair, so as not to dirty his hand, but I wasn't going anywhere. I took advantage of the freedom of movement and turned my head so that his piss fell directly on my face, accidentally placing my ear in the pathway of his stream for a second, and experienced the strange sensation of having my ear canal fill up with the warm liquid, muffling my hearing. I shook my head to clear my ear and put my face back where I wanted it, parting my lips to let the stream trickle into my mouth, swallowing.

After what felt like minutes, but couldn't have been more than a handful of seconds, he was finished. Without a word, he zipped his jeans and got back into the car. I squeezed as much of the liquid out of my short hair as I could. I had just had it cut and styled that day, and earlier it looked better than it had in months. Now it was a piss soaked, rumpled mess, but I couldn't have been happier at that moment, and sported the grin to prove it.

I closed my door and repositioned myself in the car.

"Don't you dare get piss on my seat."

"Or?"

"Or I won't slap you next time."

I've never been more conscious of the position of my head than I was on the rest of the drive home.

We got back to his place and parted ways. I got in my car and began to drive home, then had a mischievous thought.

Ok, so admittedly I didn't REALLY need milk that night. But I couldn't resist the urge to walk around the grocery store, my hair and coat soaked, reveling in my little secret. ;-)