Pee/Golden Showers/Wetting

Intrigued

Is anyone into peeing inside a vagina? I get so turned on at the thought of it.
Back in October I was joined in the outdoor shower by a lady friend. With her foot propped on the wall ledge and me taking her from behind I was overcame by the idea to stop tease her clit a while so I could release a bladder full of pee inside her. When I began to fill her up with my salty surprise she began to repeatedly orgasm and squirt hers and mine all over our feet. It was amazing. She had since hit me up for a repeat several times.
 
there shuld be more pics of guys peeing. someitmes at the mall i go into the bathroom and peek at other guys when i pee
 
The first time I met her was at the library. I had been invited to give a talk. She was a member of one of the many local book groups.

‘I read your book,’ she said.

‘Oh? Let me guess. You didn’t much like it?’

‘No, no. I liked it very much,’ she said. ‘I wish I had written it.’

‘Are you a writer?’ I asked.

‘I think so,’ she said. ‘I just need to convince a publisher. We should go back to my place and you can give me some tips.’

I think I may have laughed. But she kept going.

‘I can make a pot of tea,’ she said. ‘Jasmine perhaps. Or maybe something stronger.’ And she glanced at her watch. ‘Yes. It’s past midday. Perhaps a gin sling. We can sit in the garden. My husband is away for a few days.’

I tried to tell her that today was not a good day. I had deadlines to meet. But she was not a woman who took no for an answer and, in next to no time, our cab was pulling up outside the brightly painted red front door of a Georgian mid-terrace.

She led me through the front part of the house and out to a modern kitchen-diner that looked out onto a small garden that appeared to have come straight from a magazine.

She made a couple of very long gin slings and we took them out into the garden. ‘To scribblers everywhere,’ she said, raising her glass.

‘To scribblers everywhere.’

‘Why don’t you sit over there,’ she said, indicating one of the garden chairs. ‘And I’ll sit over here. Then you can look up my skirt. I take it that you like to look up women’s skirts. Most men do.’ And she sat down and spread her knees. She was not wearing any knickers.

‘So…,’ she said, ‘where should I start? What should I do to get a publisher’s attention?’

I was tempted to suggest that she simply invite one to come and look up her skirt. But, in the end, I tried to explain why so many publisher are so reluctant to take a leap with unpublished writers.

‘How did you get started?’ she asked.

‘There was a bit of luck involved,’ I told her. ‘I met the right agent at the right time.’

She nodded. ‘I think we should have another drink,’ she said.

‘And I should probably have a pee,’ I told her.

She nodded. ‘Good idea. Follow me.’ And she led me into a downstairs shower room. ‘Door open or closed?’ she asked.

‘Perhaps closed,’ I said.

She closed the door – but with her still inside. ‘Now, how can I help?’ she asked.

I laughed. But she was already lowering my zip and fishing for my cock.

‘I wish I had a cock,’ she said. ‘I find it so satisfying to direct the flow – as it were.’

We had several more drinks that afternoon. And the next time that we returned to the shower room, it was it was to stand in the shower where she could pee over my cock and I could return the favour by peeing over her cunt.
 
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