Erotica, Series
The Leatherbound Diaries, Part 7
Intense Intimacy: Cathy meets Alexander who lets her hold him while he pees.
The first time I asked a man — actually, it was a mere boy — if I could hold his penis while he was peeing, he gave me a disturbed look and shooed me away before slamming the bathroom door. Originally, he had left the bathroom door open and as I watched him unzip his fly, an irrepressible curiosity took hold of me. I wanted to know what it would feel like to hold him, and I could see myself standing next to him to offer a helping hand.
His rejection shamed me. I was still a mere girl myself, and I felt reprimanded for something I thought to be natural curiosity. Only later did I realise that my then boyfriend considered my proposition sexually laden, which it was not. He thought I was a filthy pervert, getting off on some peeing kink. Needless to say, our ‘relationship’ ended soon after. In hindsight, I believe this was the moment I decided I wouldn’t want to commit to anyone before discovering myself and my sexuality.
Yesterday I got another chance. This time with a mature man who quizzically looked at me when I proposed to help him out in the bathroom. Let me tell you about him.
I met Alexander a couple of weeks ago. I attended an opening for an art exhibition with my boss and mentor Paul Kruger. By now, I’ve come to know a few people here in Berlin, especially in certain arty scenes, but at these gatherings I still feel a bit lost. I’m ‘only’ an assistant to Paul, and although most arty people are actually quite nice and friendly, my boring middle-class upbringing and lack of knowledge on art, politics and all that makes me feel inadequate.
So here I was, wandering around the gallery with a glass of lukewarm white wine in hand, looking at pictures I didn’t find particularly interesting. But in a room off from the main gallery space, there was a video installation that intrigued me. The artist had built a small wooden bridge and standing in the middle of it you looked over at the opposite wall on which an image was projected of a young man standing on the edge of a wooden jetty. With his back turned to the camera, he looked out on a large lake. He wore just a pair of oversized trunks that were dripping wet, as if he’d just climbed out of the water onto the jetty.
After a while I realised the film was a loop in slow motion. The boy stood quite still and all the movement in the frame came from the water gliding over and off his skin and trunks. It was delicately beautiful and I couldn’t stop watching the drops as they slithered down the young, slim body and splashed on the wooden planks. I was so absorbed by it I hadn’t noticed someone else had entered the space and joined me on the small bridge. This was Alexander.
Alexander’s answer to my ‘Can I hold your penis while you pee’ question was to pull a chair into his bathroom, place it next to the toilet bowl and pat its seat. I smiled at him and sat down to watch him undo his fly, pull out his cock and hold it out to me. I’ve had this cock in my hands before, as well as in mouth and in my cunt. I’m also planning to seduce Alexander into sliding his cock inside my other hole, thus taking my anal virginity. But that’s another story.
I wasn’t happy with his dick just poking out of his fly. So, I nuzzled it back inside his trousers and undid his belt. I pulled down his trousers and boxers and let them drop around his ankles. I looked up and told Alexander to step out of them. He did with a smile. This was much better. I took his cock in my hand and pointed it towards the white porcelain. Lucky for me, he really needed to pee, so soon enough I felt the sensation of a firm stream flowing through and out of his penis. I locked eyes with Alexander. I wasn’t interested in watching the piss — hearing the splashy clatter was more than enough — I wanted it to be a moment of intense intimacy. Alexander makes me feel at ease — he gladly allows me frolicking naked through his apartment when I stay over — and he never gives a frowning glance that makes me insecure. He says he loves me platonically, which is weird because we’ve been fucking like rabbits these past few weeks.
As I held him, I could see in his tender gaze that he deeply understood my need, which I refuse to describe in words on these pages. But I will say that the sensuality of the moment dissolved any reserve or shame. I cannot deny a certain arousal, but of a different kind. Maybe excitement is a better word. It was physical and cerebral. It was banal and holy, like the washing of feet.
‘You can let go now. I’m finished.’ We both laughed as I freed his cock from my gentle grip. I remained seated while he took off his shirt. For a man his age — he’s passed forty, I think — he’s got a well-trained body. He’s told me he swims three times a week because of lower back problems. I love the muscular firmness of his physique that seems vulnerable too, so while he undressed further, I took him in. It made me hot, and I told him.
‘You’re easily aroused,’ he said.
I nodded.
‘Don’t you need to pee?’ he asked. I did, so I placed down the toilet seat and stood up to lower my thong.
‘Give me that,’ he said, and I handed it over. I waited for him to notice that the small crotch was slippery wet. When he did, I chuckled, and he made a mocking face at me.
‘You really are an amazing creature.’
I blush when he calls me ‘creature’, and he enjoys saying it. He’s also called me faun. These nicknames tingle throughout my body, and I wonder why they seem to touch me in unknown places.
But sitting on the toilet, hearing my own clattering and watching Alexander watch me, these thoughts were ephemeral. As his cock erected to its full glory, my body responded gloriously too. I bit my lip, knowing by now that Alexander would not allow me to take his cock in my mouth right there and then. He’s very good at edging me. He constantly postpones my satisfaction to enhance my craving, and I purr in anticipation. I’ve never had to beg before; most men and women are easily seduced, especially when you give them the impression of being in control. But Alexander controls me, and I haven’t yet figured out a form of resistance. Maybe I don’t want to. It’s not that he revels in the control; it seems more like he gets off on my edginess. He totally enjoys himself, not just sexually. And so do I. We play. We have fun. That’s what we’ve discovered in each other.
When he stood next to me at the gallery, watching the dripping young man on the jetty, Alexander said that the wooden bridge we stood on was such a clever idea of the artist. The similarity between the projected wood of the jetty and the tactile wood of the bridge made us connect with the young man, he said. So, we could experience the water as if we had just taken a dive into the lake ourselves. He was right, because it seemed that the drops were gliding down my skin, heated by the summer sun, and my feet seemed to be remembering the touch of wood on their wet soles.
‘Art is not difficult,’ Alexander had said. ‘Regardless of what other people pretend it to be. Art is fun, it’s playful, even when it’s serious.’ I think when I held him while he peed, I connected with Alexander as I did with the boy on the jetty.
Alexander ripped some paper off the roll. I thought to take it, but he didn’t hold it out to me. With a nod, he gestured for me to stand. As I got up, he knelt in front of me and then he wiped my vulva clean. It was such an endearing thing of him to do that when the water from the closet flushed down, I welcomed its noise, it enabled me to divert his gaze so he couldn’t see the tears forming in the corner of my eyes. Alexander made love to me last night and I think I made love too. I cannot call it anything else.
Patricia Ray’s latest collection of short stories is out now. You can find «Queen without Clothes and Other Steamy Stories» at your favourite ebook seller.
More from Patricia…
