Hey. First post here but I have a few similar experiences to this one. I will gladly post more if people aren’t too repulsed. Thank goodness for Internet anonymity. This dates back to before marriage and mummy-hood, back when life wasn’t quite so missionary and once a fortnight.
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I vividly remember getting ready to meet Him; applying make-up with trembling hands; using my new GHD’s for the first time; drinking wine to steady my nerves and staring at myself in the mirror willing myself to be brave.
We had met a couple of times before for drinks and laughs and we had shared a kiss but for one reason or another I hadn’t gone back to his flat. We had been chatting relentlessly since, texting and online. Things had decidedly gotten more intense. It had transpired that he was very kinky and Dominant and that I was very intrigued by this.
I remember selecting a little black cocktail dress, one that hugged the right places just so. I liked the way it contrasted so starkly with my porcelain skin. I remember thinking I wouldn’t have it on all night and I remember feeling terrified and exhilarated in equal measure. It was clear that we were going to have sex and it was clear that it wouldn’t be…’normal’. As scared as I was, I felt drawn like a moth to the flame.
I remember reaching his front door and pressing the bell and the way my finger trembled and my heart beat like a bongo.
When He answered, he was suited and booted and he looked dashing and so very authoritative. I felt small in his presence.
I don’t remember him saying too much. He beckoned me in to the hall and closed the door. He was eying me up and down and kind of smirking his approval.
He asked me to remove my clothes and I did. I thought I was going to stop breathing and pass out. I could feel my face flushing. I had been pretending to him that I had a lot more confidence than I actually did.
I unzipped my dress. I delicately removed my underwear. I kicked off my heels. And I stood there. Looking at the floor. Naked. In his shadow. He remained fully dressed.
He asked me whether I wanted a drink and I gushed ‘yes please’ and that I would like a ‘vodka and diet coke’ or something like that. He left briefly and returned with a tray.
I watched as he slowly and calmly poured a generous measure of vodka into a glass and then what he did next still shocks me to the core of my soul. He (ahem) unzipped his trousers, took out his flaccid penis, plopped it into my glass and urinated.
I could feel my eyes widen and my mouth fall open. I was completely aghast.
He topped up the glass and handed it to me. He said ‘No mixers’ and then he looked at me dead in the eye, similar to the way a vulture stares at vulnerable prey and he said with a little menace in his voice “drink up”.
Hesitantly, I put the glass to my lips. He was watching me expectantly. I tipped the contents into my mouth and drank and gulped and swallowed. I drank the lot. He smiled approvingly.
We went through to his living room and spent a couple of hours (it seems so bizarre and dreamlike looking back at this) chatting intimately. Comfortably. He was sat on an armchair (he remained dressed) and I was curled up naked on the floor. We joked, laughed, flirted. It was like a very normal night with a lover, except everytime I finished my drink, it was the same routine. He would…urinate into my glass. Once he asked me to do it. Squat over the glass. Right there in the living room. In front of him. He carried on drinking sparkling water.
A couple of hours later, I was very tipsy indeed. And when he carried me through to his bed, I was giggling and hanging on to him and I was like putty in his hands. I was already his.
X
Source: reddit.com/r/gonewildstories/comments/if40b7/perhaps_not_everyones_cup_of_tea_fm