Posted by Fluidity on July 08, 1998 at 18:52
In Reply to: Je rêve d'être l'urinoir d'un homme posted by Gaby on July 08, 1998 at 14:47
Quite a story.
Via altavista:
I dream to be the urinal of a man
I am naked under my Jean who sticks to me with the skin, moulding to my
vulva in the most indecent way! Sat on my chair of office, I draw aside
the legs and cherishes me enters it thigh of the end of the nail...
until, very excited, I start pisser. The spot of urine extends quickly,
I have the soaked buttocks, I empty myself with delight, and the hot
liquid runs now on the fitted carpet...
these wee in the breeches, to which a review uro-scato (discovery by
chance in the dustbin of a public garden in Hamburg) me have encourage
whereas I have thirteen year, and that the end of my adolescence me have
make give up for some other play, me be become again a practice current
for some six month thanks to the discovery, again, of a review treat
largely some this subject still more rare in France than in Germany:
letter secret. But allow me to present myself: I am called Gaby, am of
German origin, I clearly have hair châtain, opened out forms. 32 years,
and, divorced for one year, I have lived alone, with a comfortable
pension which exempts to me to work. Rather intellectual, I make
profitable this idleness to devote me to various solitary pastimes such
as the reading, the masturbation, drink... and, recently, with what
became a true passion of an incredible perversity: to empty me bladder
and intestines in the trousers. All began the last summer: I Was vêtue
of a Jean whose diluted fabric stuck to me with the skin, and of a
tee-shirt in the same style (with strictly nothing below all that!),
behaviour which was worth me the glances of step badly of males... I
finished some of a voyage which I had passed in the buffet car of the
train, accoudée with the counter, with siroter beer on beer, in a
trouble that nothing stopped, not even a frôleuse hand being delayed to
flatter the generous curves of the bottom of my back. Arrived ' has my
station of destination, passably éméchée, I were on the point of
returning to me to the toilets with the serious ones envies, when,
passing in front of a newspaper kiosk, my glance was attracted by a
title scatologic on the cover of a number of your monthly magazine. A
disorder as sudden as violent one seized me... it was as if I had
received a blow of fist in the belly (but in much more pleasant!)... I
bought your review... and hastened me to go to read it in the toilets.
Upright in the toilet, I devoured the confession of a young baby girl
and cacateuse, the beating heart, the cheek empourprées, the hand on the
sex... when the desire taken to me, completely uncontrolled, to do as
much, to soil me of it. During the few seconds which followed, it was a
gigantic conflict between this sick desire and fear to point out me at
the exit of the toilets... then, as had by the most perverse daemons of
my me secret, I made all my needs in my blues-Jean!(and as I to you said
it: I be naked below!)... The urine stream between my
thigh and himself flow by ground with a noise of gutter, while a
enormous étron fill the bottom of my Jean before to descend along a
thigh... I know more it that I make, I be properly in fright... a
gémissement raucous assemble of my throat... then lean with wall, I
begin to me masturbate as a insane in palpate my excrement through the
fabric of Jean flooded... I of finish more to enjoy, never I have enjoy
like that!... I was sick. Calmed once, although returning from there
yet of what arrived to me, I not left a imper my bag and covered to me
with it to hide the damage with the sight of the passers by... A small
detail still to be regulated: to wet all the bottom of Jean exceeding
of the imper so that one does not notice the difference!... EC what I
made with the wash-hand basins, fortunately deserted. Once in the
street, far from dissipating itself, the perverse disorder which had
invaded me since the beginning of this experiment, was accentuated,
owing to the fact that the port of a imper by such a beautiful day
attracted on me many glances... If they had seen what there were below.
I then decided to leave my luggage to the instruction; and very soaked
and merdeuse, I prolonged this walk, opening my imper, each time that
there was nobody opposite me... and thus enjoying fear to be
surprised,Il started to be done late and the street were emptied... In
a small deserted street, I posed my imper on the cap of a car and looked
me in the ice of a front of store... The urine had started to dry and
it aureole was hardly visible... but with all beer which I had
ingurgitée, it was not difficult for me to renew the experiment... This
time, it is without any reserve that I emptied myself the bladder in my
trousers... The urine squirted with force, immediately flooded all the
interior of the thighs of the Jean to the feet, before making a drain on
the pavement... I soaked, with delight the hands in this urine which
ran between my thighs, carrying a finger with my mouth, cherishing me
the sex through fabric than ever stuck more to the skin... Then I was
turned over to see my bottom in the ice... The shit had been diluted
and stained of daughter-in-law the between-buttocks and all the back of
a thigh... On the other hand, the package was hardly seen. The street
remained deserted... I taken my imper on the arm, and walked thus to a
porch to the shelter of which I undertaken to knead a little more my
excrement in my Jean for good to spread out it. I weakened of pleasure.
Suddenly, I heard voices. One came! I threaded my imper of speed, and
without to have buttoned it, I put to follow the couple which passed.
Drops of urine still ran on the pavement with each q' one of my steps.
I was really flooded! And I had full the buttocks of them! The type
was turned over and saw me closing my imper quickly! It seemed
astonished. I wanted to cherish me the sex while walking behind him.
But I did not dare. It became urgent that I masturbate! the couple
entered a building I it followed, but preferred not to accompany it
until in the elevator ' because of the odor! I thus borrowed the fire
escape, perfectly deserted, where, between two stage, I left imper and
tee-shirt, then lowered my Jean to semi-thighs and began a deep
masturbation. My nudity and my dirtiness, in this place where bits of
sentences, noise of step or gate that one opera hat reached me, and
where at every moment, some ' one could emerge and discover me, excited
me at the highest point. I do not know what of driven back in me since
always then seizes me with a really lunatic frenzy; with a hand I shook,
other I spread out the shit over my buttocks, then over my centres then,
I put my tee-shirt between my thigh and pissai inside then carried it to
my mouth to suck it, before threading it again, or it stuck to my chest
soiled. Lastly, completely out of me, I whitewashed my clothing of
excrement, and collapsed on the aliasings in an extraordinary orgasme.
After that, I re-entered at home, all trembling in my imper the cotton
legs and, very curiously, I felt as cleaned inside, emptied and
cleaned.For a first attempt, as regards scatology, it was a master
stroke, of which it is certainly necessary to allot a considerable share
to the merit of alcohol, but as your excellent review as, since, I buy
regularly, and in whom I read of course the technique of the wee
breeches signed by Martine who remains a model of the kind. however, I prefer, for my part, make my need in a Jean that
in a breeches, first of all because I adore being in Jean mould and that
contrary with opinion of certain man remain egoistically attach with
very comfortable garter belt, I find the Jean sexy, and then because, if
one like himself flood, one appreciate well more to be completely until
foot that just two centimetre square between the thigh. And in the
street, believe me that with impermeable or a sufficiently long coat,
nobody will never see anything. Since this first unforgettable
experiment, I constituted myself a whole garde-robe of Jean that I
dirtied with length of days of any kinds of manners: The elastic fibre
Jean, extremely moulding, is ideal to make a large consistent excrement
which will remain, in a large hot package, between the buttocks. It is
a pleasure without name to walk like that in the street. The thicker
fabric Jean is ideal pisser; moisture being preserved longer. The very
old Jean completely grated and diluted excites me enormously when I
release any unit, then whitewashes it excrements. A Jean a little less
moulding will agree with the excrement that one wants to make in
breeches, in order to keep the excrement in the breeches well, without
too spreading out it. And conversely, if one wants which a rather soft
excrement spreads to the maximum, better is worth to carry a Jean cuts
high, with thick, and extremely tight fabric. As the odor of the urine
throws me into a panic terribly, I like to make wee several times of
continuation in the same Jean, that I let dry, to re-use it later.
Which pleasure of threading a Jean exhaling the odor of pisse; to
involve these emanations with oneself in a walk; to breathe in its
entrecuisse; or to pose its lips on its soaked fabric. Usually, at
home, when sudden a envi to make wee or excrement takes to me, whereas I
am doing the housework, to look at the TV or of reading, that I is
upright, sitting or extended, I completely let myself go, and I make
under me. Then I keep my Jean soiled longest possible while continuing
to be occupied with my occupations. Once (and it was by far, the
experiment most incredibly dared which I could try), I did not leave my
Jean during two days. (I had bent closing to more be able to open it).
I pissais and Re-re-pissais inside. The urine dried, and I started
again, even with the bed, where I masturbated through fabric. At the
end of two day, I felt the urine like a pissotière, and my Jean was
stiffer than a carapace. I thus left to make races and as I had not
made excrement during these two days, I was taken of an enormous desire
(completely unforeseen) which twisted me the entrails. The daemon of
the persivity whispered me then an absolutely insane idea which made me
beat the heart in advance: to enter a practically deserted cinema, and
to let to me there go without embarrassment. I sui thus installed all
at the bottom, in a dark corner, and I started chier in my Jean as ever
I chié. The shit started to come out lasts, so much so that I had to
raise me so that it can come out; a small jet of urine fused, then I
sitted and drew aside the legs. I could not any more retain me. Of
only one blow, an enormous quantity of hot shit invades my Jean, being
cleared, a path all azimuth, I had some full on the sex, and, by
stirring up that a little went up almost on the belly, and Ca went down
along the thighs to the knees. I was well and I started to cherish me
by kneading all this sticky matter. But that was not enough for me I
tested the desire to be likely to be seen. I then left my imper on the
seat, raised me and left in direction the toilets. While raising me,
the shit ran until in my boots, I had never been also salts, and that
made me shiver I put to urinate while going, still releasing a surplus
of practically liquid excrement. The breath court, of small gémissement
almost orgasmic rising irrépressiblement my chest, and the hand on the
sex, I decided to enter the toilets of the men then I sitted in a urinal
for good to wet me the buttock and to dilute still a little the
excrement. Of course, there was not I dream to be the urinal of a man
not a cat, but it was not absolutely impossible only that one occurred.
I would have liked to be able to take excrement in the hands and to put
some to me everywhere, But the top of the fly of the Jean was firmly
bent, and I could not open it I then lidée to tear it. The seam with
entrecuisse was slightly décousue, I profited from it for the découdre
completely and to plunge my hand in the excrements which contained my
Jean. I of put full on the buttocks, the belly and the centre and after
me to be washed the hands, I set out again to sit me in my place, the
heart beating wildly. As surprising as that appears, nobody never
surprised me in feature to soil to me it should be said that I never
expose myself inconsiderately and that in any case, it is never acts,
for me to be seen. But to well only tremble to be it. Each day that
made God, I invent new practices. That I did not make, j`ai chié in my
support-throat before putting it, the shit ran in my shirt and
saccumulait above the belt where I l`écrasais. J`ai chié in the pocket
of my imper, and while walking innocently in the street, I took of it a
little end of the fingers for l`étaler on my sex, my belly or my
buttock. J`ai pissé in my Jean sitting on public bank or upright in the
street. I particularly like to make under me in the subway very late
the evening when it n`y has almost more anybody and that I can then, in
a deserted coach, to devote myself to obscenities like descending my
trousers and masturbating upright in front of the gate, jusqu`à the this
qu`arrive next station where I go up it previously all while putting to
me pisser like a cow (j`adore to start to urinate while threading or
leaving my Jean). One must, in a deserted public garden, warning a
beautiful mud puddle pool, I lowered my Jean, fact excrement in mud,
gone up my Jean then I sat down inside by stirring up the buttock well
and while pissant. t m`arrive also to prevail of night not far from my
residence, and I push l`audace jusqu`à then to neglect l`usage l`imper
and cross the carparks or haunt the elevators in a state to be made
quiver d`horror a battalion of légionary. It m`arrive to even say to
me, in those moment that my appearance has what to discourage and make
flee any possibly embusqué rapist around. But they is so much exciting
to look at itself pisser, in the ice of an elevator which goes up on a
floor where, perhaps, one will be face to face with people! (about
midnight, it is not very probable but not impossible). Of course, all
these plays are perfectly solitary, and it arrives to me sometimes of
fantasmer the unknown stopped in the street, with which I would require
pisser me above. Idream to be the urinal of a man; that it pisse on the
fly of my Jean, mesa buttock, or my tee-shirt; that it extends me on the
cap of a car and floods me completely, while starting with my sex being
offered greedily to the flood of urine; or that it throws me to ground
and makes me above. But I would not like to fall on such a partner
differently than by chance.
Posted by Gaby on July 08, 1998 at 14:47
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