I suppose anyone who’s read the first three parts of my “autobiography” has noticed that sometimes people get peed on. This fourth installment explores that aspect of my life in more detail.

There’s a certain special thrill to peeing in a public place where someone might catch you. It’s even more erotic when you follow up that first risky piss with an equally risky bout of masturbation. I still remember my first time.

A study session with one of my fellow cheerleaders naturally led to an intense lesbian encounter, and the first time I ever managed to get a beautiful, sexy friend to pee in my mouth. That naturally led to an even more intense encounter in the bathtub.

Most of you already know that I like to vacation at adult-only nudist resorts, the ones where no one is concerned if the men walk around with boners, or the guests decide to have an impromptu fuck on the picnic table. One of those resorts was where I first had sex with my brother, Sam, and a very wet encounter with my gorgeous friend Sylvia.

In my other career as a porn movie screenwriter I sometimes got to visit the set where one of my scripts was being filmed. One of these was a pee-filled lesbian romp where a trans “aunt” decides to punish three “sisters” for their naughty lesbian sex session by peeing on them. It turns out they like it, and soon the punishment turns into an all-out piss orgy.

And, not for the first time in one of my tales, I find myself getting it on with my young friend Sarah, the one I always feel like I’ve known for a very long time, yet I’m equally sure I only met a few months ago. Regardless of what I wrote in my journal that night, I can’t imagine that she’s really 6,600-years-old.

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“Oh,” I said, “you’re an evil influence on me.” I shook my head, rose to my feet, and extended my hands to her, pulling her up after me. “I like that in a friend.”

In a trice we were in the bathroom, our clothing littering the floor between the living room and the bath.

Sarah giggled and squirmed as she lay down on her back in the big, cast-iron tub. It was a warm day, but the porcelain enameled metal was still a bit chilly. She lay with her head toward the foot of the tub.

I got in and faced the other way, one leg on either side of her, getting into a neat sixty-nine position and burying my chin in her closely-trimmed red bush. I pressed my mouth against her vulva, using my fingers to spread the lips. As I began to lick I could feel her tongue probing at me, circling my sensitive clit. We always fit together so nicely, I thought.

I could feel her mouth opening wide, covering me, feel the gentle suction as her tongue moved across the moist, tingling flesh and pressed hard against my pee hole. I knew from experience that this could stimulate someone to pee involuntarily, but here it was more of a signal. A sign that she was ready for my offering.

I willed myself to relax, letting the hot piss flow gently into her mouth. At the same time, I increased my ministrations to her clit, pressed my tongue deep into her welcoming tunnel of desire. She exuded the clean, musky odor of feminine arousal and I inhaled deeply.

I was still peeing, knowing that my liquid tribute was flowing into her mouth, over her beautiful face, and streaming slowly along her perfect body on its way to the drain at my end of the tub.

“Now,” I murmured.

My mouth pressed against her cunt, her hot pee shot forth between my lips and teeth, hard on my tongue. I swallowed some, filled my mouth, let it flow out and down the drain. I have no idea why I find this so stimulating, but I do. We were both cumming. How much was from the attention of lips and tongues on sensitive flesh, and how much from the erotic fountaining of our loins, I was never quite certain. I only know that this is something I enjoy, something that gets me off.

We lay there in the tub for a few minutes, continuing to lick each other. Eventually we sat up, got to our feet, and I turned on the shower. We took turns washing each other, then got out of the shower, dried off, and went into my bedroom to lie down on the bed.

“You know,” Sarah said, “I rather think I love you.”

I kissed her sweet lips. My right hand was resting on her perfect breast.

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