"Slapped on the chin, but I'm back with a grin."
Maybe the label on his shirt says, "By Hand Only." If he keeps jacking it, will he end up plastered with fabric softener?
How much am I supposed to tip the guy who comes over and puts my underwear on for a few minutes to warm it up for me before I put it on?
—the sharable underwear of Rob Huebel
If you've ever wondered how to suavely bring up the topic of your secret fetish on a first date, you'll love how Horace handles Devlin in this terrific story. We turned the action extra, extra gay, just for you. ;-)
"About how many times a day do you pee?” Horace asked Devlin.
"On average. How many times?” He smiled charismatically.
"I don’t know ... four or five, maybe. A bunch.”
The wine bar was hopping. Other couples huddled at every point of the compass— engaging in less peculiar conversations, Devlin wagered.
"Why do you ask? Do you keep tallies?”
"Oh, no,” he chuckled. "I’m an enthusiast, not an accountant.”
He leaned in closer. "Do you like it?”
"Do you like pissing?”
Devlin smirked. "What do you mean? I—”
"I mean, do you enjoy yourself with it?” His hand touched the man’s knee.
"What a question, Horace.”
"And here’s another: If you could wave a magic wand and never have to pee again, would you take advantage of that? Or would you miss how luxurious it feels to pull your briefs down and piss? Would you opt out of the magic-wand thing, Devlin?” He broke eye contact long enough to help himself to a piece of focaccia, giving the man a moment of space.
This had definitely turned into an interesting date.
"You like how it feels, don’t you?” said Horace, promptly back on his ass.
"But you like it a lot, yes?”
Devlin shrugged. "Maybe.”
"Does it make your cock hard to think about how good it feels? To sit here and talk about it?”
"It seems to me you’re the one doing most of the talking.”
He conceded the point with a gesture. "Please. I’m all ears.”
He conceded this as well.
Devlin looked around the room again. "I’ve never seen this place so crowded.”
"I thought we were talking about your hard cock.”
"Did I say it was hard?”
"No, in fact you didn’t—not yet. Why the delay in imparting this information?”
"You appear to be fairly sure about it without my input.”
Horace reached across the table to take his hand. "Devlin, there is nothing more important to me than your input on this subject.”
Devlin inclined his head graciously. "Thank you.”
"So, then, it’s hard?”
"Maybe.” But he knew he was nodding yes.
"And this has something to do with telling me how much you enjoy peeing, correct? You did say you liked it, didn’t you? A lot?”
"Oh, for fuck’s sake. Yes, yes, I like to pee, OK?” He laughed.
"A lot. Right?”
Devlin sighed, then burst into another round of laughter. "Well, since it makes you so happy: Yes. A lot.”
"I want to hear more about how happy it makes you.”
"What’s to tell? It—um—it’s a really good feeling. And, yeah, sort of sexy.” He shifted in his seat, and this did not go unnoticed; Horace’s face lit up.
"Maybe you have to pee right now, eh? You’re imagining what the sensations will be like when you do it: almost like an orgasm. Am I right? In fact, Devlin, I propose that you’re squeezing your sphincter holding it at this very moment, and that this is turning you on, as well.”
He put the napkin he’d been gesturing with back on the table. "But I’m talking too much again—speculating here, without giving you a chance to answer me. I apologize. So, tell me: do you have to pee?” He was speaking softly now, his voice an insinuating velvet.
"I can wait.” Devlin felt himself blush.
"Oh, yes, I bet you can,” he said, looking more gratified than ever.
"Waiting is part of the fun sometimes, isn’t it?”
"Damn, Horace, what are you doing to me?”
"Making love to you,” he replied instantly.
"It’s akin to a not-yet-answered sexual urge sometimes, that tickle of water, isn’t it? Waiting a bit can be like foreplay ... delicious anticipation.”
"I never thought of it that way.”
"But neither do you deny its aptness, I note. Splendid. And how nice that you’re holding your pee right before my eyes. Isn’t it exciting that I know what’s going on between your legs, Devlin, dead center in the fly of those tight slacks you’re wearing?”
"You’re making me squirm in public.”
"Is that a problem?”
Devlin opened his mouth to respond, then hesitated. Then he shook his head no.
"I don’t blame you for getting aroused, sitting there with a tickle in your briefs, squeezing your sphincter while I watch your every move. I don’t blame you at all.”
"I appreciate the vote of confidence.”
"Is it like a man’s flat fingers strumming slowly, just outside the periphery of your foreskin? A faint, pulsing tension that lurks vaguely at the base of your shaft?”
"You’re very skilled at describing things.”
"Am I? These things? Thank you, Devlin, that’s wonderful to imagine.” He took a bite of focaccia before indicating the men’s room at the back of the bar.
"Just think of it: Out here, me—an erotic sentimentalist. In there, beautiful faces and beautiful crotches, standing pretty to pee ... pointed hoses ennobling urinals. Warm, masculine groins exposed ... open ... and tingling with the sensuality of release. All right behind that door.”
"You’re quite the romantic, aren’t you?”
"It’s true. Alas, they discourage urinal voyeurs here.”
"You’ve inquired, I assume.”
"But there’s a sparkling white commode in the bathroom at my place. Its bowl would welcome your golden splash.”
"I don’t think I’ve ever received an engraved invitation from a toilet bowl before.”
Horace returned the grin. "It would be impolite not to accept—don’t you agree?”
"I have no intention of not accepting.” He sipped his Chardonnay and shifted in his chair again.
* * *
"We’re almost there,” Horace said, glancing toward the passenger seat. "Looking forward to it?”
"Perhaps not as much as you are ... but yes.”
"My pleasure is mere commentary on your own. It all begins with the pleasure between your thighs, Devlin.”
"I’ll try not to disappoint you.”
"Oh, I don’t think there’s any risk of that.”
"Too bad I didn’t know our evening would include a scheduled pissing session. I would have written it on my calendar.”
"Next time, I hope you will.”
"Mmm,” Devlin purred, involuntarily. He had a hand resting lazily in his lap, and his ass jiggled on the vinyl. "You know, I had a weird dream a while ago. I should tell you about it.”
"Please,” Horace said with unsuppressed excitement.
"Well, I guess I’d had a beer close to bedtime. So there I am, in the middle of a dream of some kind, and I have to pee. But what happens, while I’m looking for a place to do it—I’m wandering around, you know, seeking the right place—is that all these men are watching me. Everywhere I go, there are men—horny, good-looking men—and they’re aware that I have to pee, and I can tell that they’re watching to see if I’m going to do it in front of them. Some of them have their dicks out. And I get so turned on by all this that for the moment I forget about pissing and I start stroking myself like nobody’s business, and I have a real live killer orgasm in my sleep.”
"Very nice,” said Horace with relish. "Very, very nice.”
"You’re telling me. I woke up all hot and sticky—and immediately dashed to the bathroom, of course. I was in total orgasm afterglow while I peed there in the moonlight.”
"You should have shared this dream with me earlier.”
Devlin laughed. "When, ‘earlier’?”
"Oh, somewhere between ‘hello’ and ‘pleased to meet you.’”
"To be honest, I’d completely forgotten it. Somehow, you managed to prompt the memory. But, OK, I’m glad you did. Whoo-baby. I suppose you’ve created a bit of a monster tonight.”
"You give me far too much credit. I didn’t create a thing. You were simply waiting for me to come along.”
"Yeah, waiting.” Again Devlin laughed. "Waiting with my sphincter clenched, holding it for you.”
He felt the car accelerating under him.
* * *
"Show me how you do it.”
"You’re not going to stand there and tell me you’ve never seen another guy pee.”
"Of course not. But each man has his own style. Or styles.”
"So you’re an ‘expert’ in male urination, huh?”
"Erotically speaking? Yes.” He sat on the edge of the vanity. "Do you wiggle your cock while you do it? Tap your feet? Hold some toilet paper at the ready, like you can’t wait to stroke your cock slit with it? Toilet paper can look so elegant in a peeing man’s grasp, so crisp and fresh.”
Devlin had to admit it was an aesthetically pleasing image, as rendered by Horace.
"On the other hand, maybe you’re the type of man who doesn’t even want to think about zipping up until every sacred drop is out. Maybe you’re so in the moment with the pleasure of pissing that all you can think about is how rapturous it feels. Do you squeeze your eyes shut when the pleasure shudders through you, Devlin?”
He studied Horace’s features. "I still can’t believe we go for drinks on a Friday night, and you turn out to be obsessed with my peeing.”
"After all, what should I be obsessed with?”
"You make it sound so logical.” Devlin shuffled in place, his hands cupping the bulge in his slacks. "I’m really going to take my pants down and pee with you watching, eh?”
"That was my thought.”
"Come to think of it, I bet you’d look plenty sexy with your cock hanging out of your pants, standing beside me in front of this scintillating toilet of yours.”
"I could get into that, too, you know—pissing simultaneously with you, crossing streams.”
"I don’t have to go.”
"I may just have to stick around until you do.”
Devlin closed his eyes, pressed his bulge harder, and gave in to the impulse to sway more dramatically from side to side. "Oh, wow, Horace, I have to pee.”
"That’s why we’re here,” he sang encouragingly.
Devlin opened his eyes and crossed one leg in front of the other, feeling giddy and daring. "Seriously, I could lose it any second,” he giggled.
"Tell me more.” He stood up, alert.
"I mean, if I just kept standing here and talking like this, I might ... ”
"OK, Horace, so what would you do if I wet my pants right here?” he heard himself ask, a little breathlessly. "Right here over the bathroom floor, just for kicks.”
"What would I do? I’d savor every moment of it, until you dripped to a stunning conclusion.”
"Then I’d pull your sopping pants off you and lick every inch of you clean. I’d—”
"Oh, Horace—I’m gonna—”
"Yes?” His smooth voice had gone husky.
"Oh! Oh! I’m pissing my pants!” He hadn’t anticipated quite how amazing this would feel.
"It’s so lovely,” Horace whispered.
"Oh, oh, oh ... ohhhhhhhhh.”
"Holy fuck, yeah. Ho-o-o-ly fuck.” He was in ecstasy.
"Aren’t you glad you didn’t wave that magic wand? Aren’t you glad you didn’t pee at the restaurant, all by yourself?”
"Uh ... y-yeah. I—ooh!—fuck, Horace, I want to see your magic wand. Take—ahhhh-hahaha, oh god—take it out. Please.”
"Nnnn,” Devlin moaned approvingly. His legs twitched as he pumped and flooded. He clutched his cock and rolled back and forth from heel to toe. "Oh-ho-o-ohhhh, oh fuck, oh f—”
Horace stepped toward him, placing his fingers on the man’s elbows. "Gorgeous.”
"Touch me. T—ahhh ... a-hahahaha. St—stroke my cock. My cock, Horace! Oh, god, I’m getting so close ... ”
He undid the man’s trouser button while he trembled, still flowing. "Hurry,” Devlin squeaked. "Grab my cockhead, my c—”
He quickly grasped his shaft of flesh.
"Ahhh! Yes, yes, keep—”
"Y—oh-o-o—oh! I’m gonna, I—”
"Oh, you fucking horny pervert, I love you, I love you ... oh, you fucking fucking piss-my-pants pervert ... oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck ... ”
His laughter was lewd honey in Devlin’s ear. "Now who’s doing most of the talking?”