Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 It's Better to Be Pissed Off than Pissed On - Part 1 (M/F, oral, ws) by
Coproman

   Hi, my name is Ron and I'm an alcoholic.  But I'm happy to report that
I've been sober for over a year, now, and I have Alcoholics Anonymous to
thank for that.  Though I am only 35, my drinking was so out-of-control
that I couldn't hold a job or a relationship.  On top of that, my family
gave up on me.  That's when I "hit bottom," "got sick and tired of being
sick and tired," and "turned it over to my higher power" by dragging myself
to a local AA meeting.  It was rough at first, but with the help of my
sponsor I managed not to drink "one day at a time" for a full 365 days.

   So here I am at my first anniversary meeting, and as I scan the faces of
family members and friends, both AA and non-AA, who have come to support
me, two faces in particular stand out as living proof that the pleasures
you experience when you're drinking can continue, and be even more
pleasurable, when you're sober.  In fact, I have to admit that I would
never have established the bond that I have with those two people--and they
probably wouldn't even be here--if I had never picked up a drink to begin
with.

   Does that bother me?  Sometimes.  But I try to live by the words of the
Serenity Prayer by not getting pissed off at things I can't change.  And
when I get pissed off anyway, I seldom stay that way very long because, in
my head, I hear my sponsor reminding me how "It's better to be pissed OFF
than pissed ON," meaning anger can lead to drinking, so you need examine
why you're angry then tell yourself that things could always be worse. 
And, indeed, the expression always works its magic, calming me down and
making me smile.  As a matter of fact, that particular expression is
probably more responsible for my continued sobriety--and for the presence
of those two special people at my meeting--than any other...but for reasons
that have very little to do with its original intent.

   ****************************************

   It all started innocently enough.  I was a consultant for the Board of
Education and had been invited to sit on an ad-hoc Community School Board
committee charged with coming up with innovative ways to improve students'
reading scores in the district's elementary schools.  But whenever the
committee met, I found it hard to focus on what the chairperson was saying
because I was so focused on another member of the committee who always sat
directly across from me--Jean, a fourth-grade "cluster" teacher.  With her
short afro, light-brown eyes, high cheek bones, and café-au-lait
complexion, she was simply mesmerizing.  And every time someone made a joke
and she flashed those perfect teeth and those cute dimples, my heart nearly
melted.  On top of all that she had a knockout of a body--pert tits and a
round ass that filled out her jeans nicely.  I kept thinking how if I were
one of the nine-year-olds in her class, I'd probably learn next to nothing
because I'd be spending the whole day trying to hide my little hard-on.

   Fortunately the attraction was mutual, and after the committee finished
its work, submitted its report, and disbanded, Jean and I went on our first
date.  Everything clicked and we ended the evening with a passionate
good-night kiss and a promise to see each other again.  We did, and the
next date ended with an invitation up to her apartment, where we engaged in
some heavy petting, including her squeezing my cock while I fondled and
sucked her breasts.  On the third date I finally made it to her bed, and we
fucked in every conceivable position until we were both too wiped out to
move.

   After that we began seeing each other regularly, and for the most part
things were going well.  There were just two problems, one having to do
with preferences and the other having to do with logistics.

   The first problem was that she didn't do anal.  The one time I tried to
test the waters she jerked away from me and, without turning her head,
said, "Sorry, Ron.  That hole is for shitting ONLY.  Hope you're okay with
that."

   I wasn't, but I said I was because I didn't want to insist on it and
wind up with nothing.  So for the sake of our relationship--and because she
was so fucking good at everything else she did--I decided to shelve that
desire and force myself to be content with just pretending I was
ass-fucking her whenever we fucked doggy style.

   The other problem was that she was divorced, so we only got to be with
each other every other weekend since she and her ex alternated weekends
with their two boys, a nerdy ten-year-old named Jalen and a rambunctious
eight-year-old named Bryce.  If I wanted to see Jean more than twice a
month, it had to be a family outing.  Not that I minded all that much.  I
basically got along well with both boys, especially Jalen, who looked a lot
like his mother and seemed to be just as bright.  In fact he often called
me on his cell during the week to talk about sports or super-heroes or
girls in his class that he liked but was afraid to talk to.  I got the
impression that he saw me not as a rival to his dad but as just a big
overgrown kid who occasionally dropped by to visit his mom, so I wasn't a
threat.  Bryce, on the other hand, while cordial enough, never extended
himself and, in the few conversations we had, always found a reason to
mention how great his dad was.  But I was prepared to endure being with the
boys as long as it meant getting to spend time with Jean.

   Anyway, on Jean's next free weekend we had planned to spend the day at
the Bronx Zoo, which was not far from her house.  But Saturday was so
stormy that we ended up staying home and turning into animals ourselves,
fucking in every room of the house--including the boys' room!--before
repairing to the bedroom to recover.  We were trying to cuddle, but Jean
kept squirming around.

   "Damn!" she suddenly said.

   "What's the matter?"

   "I have to pee, but I'm too tired to get up."

   Showing her that chivalry wasn't dead, I promptly got up, lifted her off
the bed, carried her into the bathroom, and sat her on the toilet.  As she
peed, she was chattering away about something, but I had no idea what
because I was too busy listening to the sound of her piss hitting the
water. She was right.  She REALLY had to go, because it sounded like
someone was pouring a bucket of water into a trough.  I don't know why it
turned me on so much but it did, apparently tapping into some deep demented
part of my brain.

   When she was finally done, she wiped herself and I carried her back to
the bedroom, laid her on her back, and with renewed energy and another
raging erection, fucked the shit out of her.

   "Wow!" Jean panted after I came.  "After all those other rounds, I
didn't think you had another one like that in you."

   I smiled.  "Just being next to you brings out the tiger in me, Babe."

   Of course that wasn't it at all, but I wasn't ready just yet to share
with her what had really made me so horny.

   ****************************************

   All week long all I could see was Jean sitting on the toilet, and all I
could hear was the sound of her piss hitting the water.  I already knew
that, at the very least, I wanted to watch her go, to see the urine flowing
out of her pee hole and foaming up in the water.  But it went beyond that.
I wanted to be more directly involved, perhaps sticking my hand in her
stream and feeling her hot piss splashing over my fingers; then,
afterwards, sniffing the rankness on my hand, maybe even licking off those
golden droplets.

   I'm not sure exactly when it happened, but at some point I turned the
corner and landed smack in Freaksville, meaning I knew what I really wanted
was for Jean to do in my mouth what she'd done on the toilet.  Indeed, the
more I thought about her piss gushing into my mouth while I struggled to
swallow it, the hornier I got.  And it didn't matter how it tasted or how
much there was.  The most important thing was that I drink every nasty drop
of it.

   But how could I approach her with something so kinky?  Yeah, Jean was
super-hot in bed, but she had never even hinted that she was into anything
out of the ordinary.  Not only didn't she like ass-fucking, she didn't even
like the one time I licked her asshole, telling me it made her feel
"dirty." How, then, could I possibly expect her to agree to piss in my
mouth?

   By the weekend I was super-horny and consumed by the idea of drinking
Jean's piss.  I figured if I could at least be with her, sucking and
fucking her, I might be able to get her worked up enough--and shore up my
own courage enough--to ask her to do it.  But it was her turn to have the
kids, so I couldn't go to her place and she couldn't come to mine. 
Frustrated, I did what I usually did to soothe my sorrows--bought a bottle
of vodka and started drinking.  But I was always a gabby drunk, so the
drunker I got, the more I wanted to talk.  Inevitably I would end up
calling a bunch of people, talking their ears off about all kinds of stupid
shit, then passing out.  When I woke up, I wouldn't remember who the hell
I'd called or what the hell I'd said.  In the midst of this particular
stupor, Jean was one of the people I called.  I knew this only because I
got a call back from her the next day.

   "Ron, do you remember calling me last night?"

   "Not really," I admitted.  "I was sort of out of it."

   "I figured.  So you don't remember what you asked me to do?"

   "No."

   With the ball in her court, Jean could've taken me anywhere she wanted,
from going on an expensive cruise to getting engaged.  But she was always
pretty honest, so I trusted her to tell me the truth.

   "You asked me to urinate in your mouth."

   So not only had I called her, I had also blurted out what I wanted so
desperately from her!  Maybe she had already answered my question.  Maybe
she'd already said no.  But if that were the case, why was she bothering to
call me back?  She knew I was a blackout drinker, so she understood that
all she had to do was keep her mouth shut, and my kinky request would have
been forever lost in that alcoholic black hole of my brain.  No, something
else was going on here.  So, crossing my fingers, I took a deep breath and
bravely forged ahead.

   "So...would you?" I hesitantly asked.

   "Cost you $150," she curtly replied.

   This was insane!  My own girlfriend was acting like a common whore and
treating me like a common john!  But I was so thrilled that she was willing
to give me what I wanted that I didn't even mind.  To tell the truth, her
prostitute approach to it made me want it even more, and if all it took to
get her to do it was a C-note and a half, I wasn't about to argue with her.

   "Okay, deal," I said.  "So when can we do it?"

   "How about tonight?"

   "But aren't the kids with you this weekend?"

   "Yeah, but they go to bed at 9:00.  So come over at 10:00.  They'll be
asleep by then."

   "You're not afraid they might hear us?"

   "No, not really." Then, whispering, she added, "But if they do, won't
that make it more exciting?!"

   I responded with a nervous chuckle.  I couldn't believe Jean had said
that.  I was experiencing a side of her I didn't know.  At the same time, I
was sure she knew exactly when her kids conked out at night, so there
wasn't really any danger of their hearing us.  But the very idea that they
might, and that she was willing to risk doing it anyway for the excitement,
excited me.

   Even more exciting, though, was the prospect of realizing my freaky
fantasy.  It was hard for me not to celebrate by having a couple of drinks.
But I wanted to remember every second of the experience, and with my
tendency to go overboard and end up blacking out, I knew I couldn't risk
drinking.  So I steered clear of the Stoli, and by the time I walked out my
door I was as sober as a preacher on Sunday morning.

   When I rang Jean's doorbell, she opened the door and we greeted each
other with our usual hug and kiss.  But when I tried to make my way past
the foyer, she blocked my path and, smirking, stuck out her hand, reminding
me that we were about to engage in a business transaction and I needed to
pay up front.  I smirked back at her as I reached in my pocket, counted out
five 20s and five 10s, and handed them to her.

   "Thank you," she said.  "Now--how do you want it?  On your head, in your
face, or do you still want it in your mouth?"

   "I think I want to drink it." I watched for a reaction but couldn't spot
one.  She simply asked:

   "So we don't need to do it in the bathroom, then?"

   "No."

   "Okay.  But I think I'd better spread a towel on the bed anyway.  Just
in case."

   As I followed Jean from the linen closet to the bedroom, my heart was
beating faster and faster.  I was so glad I hadn't drunk anything because
it guaranteed that this night would be forever branded into my memory. 
Right before we walked in the bedroom, I glanced at the door to the boys'
room.  Not a sound could be heard from inside.  Evidently Jalen and Bryce
were both fast asleep.  But I couldn't help thinking that they were really
wide awake with their hot little ears pressed up against the wall
separating their room from their mother's, waiting for the action to begin.
I smiled at the thought, knowing it's exactly what I'd have been doing if I
were them and I'd been awake.

   Jean closed and locked the bedroom door and we stripped without
speaking. Then she pulled back the covers and spread the towel, and I lay
down with my head smack in the center of it.  Straddling my chest, she
leaned over, kissed me, and smiled.

   "Okay, freaky boy, you ready?"

   I smiled back.  "More than ever."

   Without another word, Jean inched up until her thighs were framing my
head and settled her pussy over my open mouth.  It took several seconds for
her to relax enough to get started, but to me it seemed like an eternity.
Finally I felt a warm trickle on my tongue.  To my surprise it tasted like
warm apple juice, so I didn't hesitate to swallow it; and I guess hearing
me swallowing convinced Jean that it was okay to stop holding back and just
go, because her stream suddenly increased from a trickle to a gusher.

   "Glugg, glugg, glugg!  Mmmmmm!  Glugg, glugg, glugg!  Mmmmmm!" I moaned
as I gulped down mouthful after mouthful of "prostitute" piss; then my mind
shifted back to the scene that had led to this kinky encounter, and my dick
got super hard as I told myself how I had won out over the toilet bowl in
the battle for Jean's pee and was now guzzling it down while the toilet sat
idle in defeat.  (Yeah, it was a weird analogy, but I'm a weird guy--as
Jean would later inform me--so I guess it was only natural.)

   I figure Jean must've held back on at least a couple trips to the
bathroom before I got there, because it took her at least a minute and a
half to finish pissing in my mouth.  I drank every drop of her golden
nectar, let out a huge burp, and began to suck her cunt as diligently as
I'd swallowed her urine.

   "Oh, yeah, Baby!  Eat my pussy!" Jean moaned, flinching every time I
flicked my tongue across her clit.  She was trying her best to keep her
voice down, but her libido wouldn't let her, and I was certain that even if
the boys had been asleep, they were surely awake now and probably jacking
off to the sounds of their mom in the throes of lust.  I also wondered if
this possibility had occurred to Jean, and if it was turning her on as much
as she'd hinted it would.

   Things didn't get any better once we started fucking.  Drinking Jean's
piss had made me so horny that I was going at her like the whore she was
pretending to be, her body bent in two and her legs draped over my
shoulders as I slammed into her, shaking the bed frame with every stroke,
making sure I got my full $150-worth of pussy by the time I was done.

   "Shit!" I growled, plunging my pole as far inside her as I could get it.
"I'm coming!  Take it, Jean!" And as I twitched on top of her, I shot such
a big load in her snatch that it was as if my dick were trying to give back
to her in sperm what she'd given me in piss.  But there was no way I was
going to let such a nice creampie go to waste either, so as soon as I was
done, I pulled out, shimmied down, pushed her thighs back and clasped my
lips over her brimming cunt.

   "Ooooooh!" she moaned, shivering through an orgasm as I proceeded to
suck out everything I'd just shot inside her.  Though I'd done the creampie
eating thing with Jean many times before, my spunk was particularly tasty
that night mixed in with both her twat juice and her piss.

   Afterwards, as we both basked in the delightful afterglow of that
memorable occasion, Jean admitted that pissing in my mouth and hearing me
drink it had turned her on a lot more than she thought it would.  Then she
started asking me a bunch of questions about how I came up with it, how
long I'd been thinking about it, and what, exactly, I got out of it.  By
then, though, I was too exhausted and embarrassed to discuss the ins and
outs of my fetish, so I simply said that the smell and taste of her piss
set off something in my brain that made me want to fuck her through the
mattress.  That explanation made her giggle like a schoolgirl and was
apparently enough to satisfy her curiosity.

   Jean and I had several more piss sessions after that, none of which she
charged me for, and they escalated from straight piss drinking to various
other forms of watersports, often taking place in the bathroom.  Most
interestingly, they usually happened during the week, with the kids right
in the next room.

   One night--it was either a Wednesday or a Thursday--I got a phone call
at about 9:30:

   "Hello?"

   "Don't speak; just listen," a sexy female voice said to me.  "I've been
sipping wine non-stop ever since I got home today, and now I'm tipsy as
hell and my bladder is ready to fucking burst.  So if you want it, you
better get you ass over here pronto before I fucking piss on myself."
Click.

   Well, I threw on some clothes, jumped in the car, and made it to Jean's
house in record time.  Fortunately she was doing a very familiar little
"dance" when she opened the door for me, which meant she had managed to
hold out.

   "Have the kids gone to bed?"

   "Yeah, yeah," Jean said, pulling me inside and pushing me down the hall.
"Just get in here and get in that bathtub."

   Smiling, I offered no resistance as she hustled me into the bathroom,
took off her bathrobe, and helped me strip.  Less than a minute later I was
stretched out in the tub and Jean was squatting over me, her seeping snatch
no more than two inches from my face.  With no warning she let go, and I
was suddenly drenched in hot piss.

   "Aaaahhh!" she sighed.  "It feels so damned good to finally let it go,
and I LOVE that it's going in your face, Baby!"

   I rotated my head to make sure Jean's piss caught every inch of my face,
and when her stream began to dry up, I opened my mouth, leaned forward, and
sealed my lips over her cunt.

   "Shit!" she responded, trembling as she grabbed the back of my head. 
"Yeah, Baby, drink my piss!  Take it right from the fucking source!"

   All I could do was hum in response as I gulped down the rest of my
girlfriend's urine, which tasted a lot like the zinfandel she'd been
sipping all night.  When she was done she loosened her hold on my head,
giving me just enough room to back up and burp.

   "You're welcome!" she giggled.

   Smiling up at her, I grabbed her ass, re-sealed my lips over her twat,
and sucked her until she swooned, shivered, and squirted right in my mouth.
By then her clit was so sensitive that when I blew on it, she flinched and
shoved my head away.  I was so smugly satisfied that I'd managed to bring
her to one of those over-the-top orgasms that I would've been okay going
home with my hard-on intact.  But Jean was having none of that, and when
she calmed down, she moved back, reached down, held my cock by the base,
and slowly lowered herself onto it, sighing as it sank into her slit then
moving her hand to secure a full docking.

   With all seven inches inside her, she proceeded to bounce on top of me,
riding me like a cowgirl, stimulating me so much it made my toes curl up.
Less than ten minutes later I was spurting a big gooey load deep in her
snatch; and when I was done, Jean promptly got up, moved up, and sat on my
face to give right back to me what I'd just finished giving her.

   After that we took a quick shower, got dressed, and with a peck on the
lips, I was out the door and headed back to my apartment, smiling the whole
time I drove back home and anticipating the next mid-week rendezvous.  It
was a wonderful game, and we were getting a big kick out of breaking the
rules by playing it while the boys were in the house.

   ****************************************

   Jean and I were probably into our third or fourth week of what I started
calling "Hide and Go Pee" when I got a call from Jalen.  I was expecting
yet another conversation about sports or super-heroes or girls in his class
that he was afraid to talk to.  But this conversation was completely
different, like none we'd ever had before, and I could tell it was going to
be different from his very first question:

   "Ron, if I tell you something, you promise not to tell my moms?"

   "Sure, Jalen.  You know anything you tell me is just between us."

   "Okay.  Well...I have this friend, and he showed me this video he took
with his cell phone, and...well...I wanna know what you think of it."

   "It would probably be easier if you just showed it to me instead of
trying to describe it over the phone."

   Jalen hesitated then said, "Well...I would, but he doesn't want anybody
else to see it, so all I can do is tell you about it."

   "Okay, shoot," I said, though, for some reason, I started getting a knot
in my stomach, so I took a swig of vodka from the bottle I always kept next
to my easy chair.

   "Well...it started off with this man and this lady in a bathtub, but
they weren't taking a bath."

   I could feel my heart beating faster and faster.  "So...what were they
doing?"

   "Something REAL nasty."

   "...like what?"

   "Well...the man was laying down in the tub and the lady was standing
over him, and...guess what she was doing."

   "...uhh...I'm not sure."

   "PEEING on him!"

   Silence.  Apparently during one or more of our quickie sessions, Jean
and I were in such a rush to get started before she accidentally went on
herself that we hadn't closed the door all the way.  But we were so sure
that the kids were asleep, we never bothered to check.  I took two more
swigs of vodka as I tried to regain my composure.

   "Hello?  Ron?  You there?"

   "Yeah, Jalen, I'm still here."

   "So what do you think about that?"

   "Uhh...I'm not sure.  But before I answer, can I ask YOU as question?"

   "Sure."

   "I wouldn't by any chance happen to KNOW the man and the lady in your
friend's video, would I?"

   He giggled.  "You might."

   "Well, if I do, ask your friend what it would take for him to erase it."

   "Okay," he said, and after supposedly speaking to someone nearby, he
came back to the phone and said, "Well...my friend said before he erases
it, he REALLY wants to know what it's like to do what they did."

   "You mean, he wants to know what it's like to pee on somebody?"

   "...no, not exactly."

   "Then what?"

   "Well...he wants to know what it's like for somebody to...like...pee on
HIM."

   "Really?" I asked, totally surprised.

   "Uh-huh.  'Cause he wants to be just like the man in the video."

   "But will your friend mind if it's the man in the video who pees on him
instead of the lady?"

   "No, he won't mind.  'Cause he really likes the man in the video, and
besides, he wouldn't want his mom--I mean, the lady doing it.  That would
be too weird."

   "True," I said, smiling.

   "So, since you know him, you think you could get him to do it?"

   "Yeah, I think I might be able to persuade him," I chuckled.  "Wait a
minute.  He's right here.  I'll ask him." This time I pretended to be
speaking to someone else before returning to the phone.  "He says he'll be
happy to do it.  He'll be home all day tomorrow working on a special
project, so if you--I mean, your friend drops by after school, they can do
it then."

   "Great!" said Jalen, and I could hear the excitement in his ten-year-old
voice.  "I'll tell him!" But his excitement was followed immediately by
uncertainty.  "But Ron, before they do it, I need to ask you something."

   "Go ahead, shoot."

   "Well...if a man pees on my friend instead of a lady, does that mean
that my friend is...like...gay?"

   "No, not at all," I assured him.  "It just means your friend's a
pervert," I added with a chuckle.  "Just like the man in the video.  And
there's nothing wrong with that, as long as you only share it with other
perverts.  You know what I mean?"

   "Yeah."

   "So I guess I'll see you--I mean, I guess the MAN will see your FRIEND
sometime tomorrow afternoon, right?"

   "Right.  I'll remind him.  Talk to you later."

   After hanging up I just sat there with my mouth open.  Did I really just
have this conversation with Jalen?  Had I just arranged to get together
with my girlfriend's ten-year-old son for a round of watersports?  I'd had
no idea that her first-born was a bottom, and I had mixed feelings about
getting involved with him.  At the same time I had to admit that the very
thought of showering the cute nerd in hot piss was making me horny, and I
wasn't about to back out of our arrangement.  My only fear was what it
might lead to.  Getting pissed on always left me super-horny, and while I'd
never been on the giving end, I had a feeling it wouldn`t matter to my
libido.  But I was a grown man and Jalen was a little boy, so sex was out
of the question...right?


   Send comments to: Coproman69@hotmail.com