The Wizzer of Ahhs

About six months ago I stumbled upon this site for water sports enthusiasts.  It was free, so I set up a profile and loaded up a bunch of photos.  

Searching the database, I tried to zero in on anyone in the Twin Cities.  I contacted about 15 people and heard back from a few.  One, a gentleman I will call Wizzer, was very friendly and looked to be a piss top – which means he liked to pee on dudes, though; apparently he was not opposed to getting peed on either.  There were a few back and forth emails and then… nothing.  Typical of these niche sites; you get contacted by a bunch of people from overseas whom you have little or no chance of meeting, while the locals all clam up.

Naturally, I lost interest in the site, save for the fact that I watched a whole bunch of piss videos in their archive.  However, a month ago, after spotting a link to the site in my favorites, I decided to drop in again.  Lo and behold, there was a recent message from Wizzer.  I sent him my regular email address and we began corresponding.

Seems he was sincerely interested in pissing on me in the great outdoors and wanted to shoe horn in a session before the weather turned.   Of course, I suggested the prairie, which was in its prime at the time.  A little negotiating back and forth and before I knew it, we had a date and time.

We initially chose a Saturday morning, but due to a change in his schedule, moved it to Sunday.  Not a problem – I went to church on Saturday night, so I could get baptized anew on Sunday morning!  We chose morning, because I knew the regulars wouldn’t be showing up until around 11:00 am, and, since this was our first try at something like this, the less people around, the better.

I arrived ahead of schedule and scoped out the place.  As I figured, no one was about.  I chose the largest spot in the middle of the prairie, where the grass had been beaten down.  The floor was lined with trampled down, dried grass. Completely surrounded by five foot high grass and sycamore saplings, it felt very private; something I thought Wizzer would appreciate it.

He’d never been to the prairie before, and that was what most of our correspondence had been about; getting him there.  Would he show?  He seemed fairly forthright, my directions had been fairly explicit, and he had a map, so I was fairly certain he would.

I stripped, put on a cock ring, and positioned my bag with all my supplies in such a way that there was no way it would get caught in the line of fire.   I brought with me: wet wipes, a couple of nice white, cotton towels, lots of bottled water (warmed in the trunk of my car), and a wash cloth.  I left my joggers on, as I was pretty certain I would be able to keep them fairly dry. 

It was a beautiful day; clear blue above, with the gentlest of breezes.  The sun felt good, even at 10:00 am.  I waited.  And waited.  Fearing the worst, I began walking about.  Maybe he’d missed me?  The niche I’d chosen was fairly private, and the grass was so tall, it would have been easy to miss me or get lost in the labyrinth of paths. 

Someone was coming down one of the paths.  Our eyes locked.  Was it him?

His pic on the site was of him from the neck down, wearing a t-shirt and jeans.  The fly of the jeans was open, with his dick sticking out as he peed.  He smiled and I immediately knew it had to be him.  He followed me back to the spot I’d picked out, where I knelt down before him.  He was 5’4”, a few years my senior, with an average build.  He had a nice square jaw, mischievous eyes, dimples and a wicked smile.  Something about him made me think mid-era Anthony Hopkins.  After making sure that we were alone and unlikely to be seen, he stripped down.  He had on a cock ring, too, so I didn’t feel out of place, wearing mine.

Let me tell you… this was a first for me; being pissed on outdoors.  It was also the first time that water sports was to serve as the main course, as opposed to a side dish tossed on the table as an afterthought. 

And I found out, almost immediately, that I liked it.  What gave it away?  The way my dick reacted!   It’s a fairly safe activity, in and of itself, so that was an added bonus.  Plus, Wizzer looked great, standing against that azure sky, towering over me, his seven inch dick looking very happy to see me. 

I took his dick in my mouth, working a little magic on it.  All told, a very average cock, but it felt great in my throat.  He appreciated my efforts, too.  When it came time to move on to the main course, he pulled his cock from my mouth and let a stream of hot piss splash onto my face and into my mouth.  Leaving my mouth open, the liquid poured down my chin.  Soon I was leaning back, so it would cascade down my torso as well.  Under the warmth of the sun, it felt good.  He’d been drinking a lot of water, so the odor was fresh; weak, but a tad pungent. 

My dick was hard as a rock and this did not escape Wizzer’s notice.  He stopped mid-stream, bending down to give my balls a squeeze and a pat.  This opened up a new arena of play, for it turned out Wizzer was also into ball play, and didn’t mind if I got a little (and I do mean ‘a little’) rough with his boys.  As for my own, he would pat them, squeeze them or playfully nudge them on occasion with the toe of his hiking boots; sending me over the edge.  I love being dommed, and, while Wizzer had a light touch, it was exactly enough to keep my cock thoroughly enthused. 

And so began the pattern of our play: a little oral on him as I twisted and tugged lightly on his balls, then a nice stream of hot piss all over my body, followed by my cock and balls getting a little rough treatment at the hands of Wizzer.   We would repeat this three more times, for a total of four.  At one point, he strapped his balls into a leather ball stretcher.  I couldn’t help myself.  Those balls of his, all skin tight, looked ready to burst.  I would bat at them like a kitten, smacking them ever so gently.  I know too well that the key to ball play is to keep it on the light side – grazing, rather than smacking, in order to keep things on the pleasure side of the continuum.

Wizzer kept ordering me to play with my own dick, as well.  He also turned out to be quite liberal with the compliments in regards to my body.  While there was nothing overly aggressive about our play, there remained an underlying power imbalance in place which maintained the edge that turned me on.

During our fourth round, my dick lost it - in the best way imaginable; cum gushing out, covering my abs right around my navel.  With a steady of stream of piss flowing down my torso, the cum pooled at the base of my dick.  Wizzer paused his flow, bent over, scooped up some of my jizz with his fingers, and fed it to me.    After emptying what piss he had left into my mouth, I spit it into the air.  We were both laughing as gravity brought it splashing back.  I asked him if he wanted to cum, and he explained that it was not necessary; for him, pissing is as good as or better than having an orgasm.  

Play over, I started to clean up, pouring bottled water over my body, wetting the wash cloth, and using the wet wipes.  The sun was so warm, I didn’t need the towels I’d brought, for my skin dried in no time.  We made small talk while Wizzer dressed.  He thanked me, reiterating how much he enjoyed our time, and then made that promise that I hear all too frequently: “Let’s do this again sometime.”   I told him I would love that, knowing all too well that the likeliness of that happening, if he was like every other trick I’ve played with, was not great.  But that’s cool, because this time it really was perfect.  No glitches, issues, or unforeseen problems.   I could walk away stinking of piss and with the memory of its warmth, as well as that wonderful fulfilled feeling I get after having been of service to a  magnanimous dom.

So, all was good in my world, as I exited the prairie.  Sometimes, things simply clicked.

-- --

Fast forward twenty days, I’m back, fresh from my adventures at the NCN Campground where one of my biggest disappointments had been the lack of doms.  The only other person at the campground to mention piss play was the dude next to my campsite, and he was looking to get pissed on as well. 

Much to my surprise, I got a follow-up email from Wizzer.  He wanted to sneak another session in before fall turned ugly.  Looking at the forecast for the coming week, he picked a day. 

Now, it was just a question of where.

You see the prairie was completely mowed down by the good folks at the Parks and Wrecks Department the week before.  Wizzer was very disappointed, but I assured him there were other spots that would work just as well.   We agreed upon a tentative date and time (11:00 am) and then I started to work on the logistics.

There were still spots in the surrounding woods that would have worked, except piss and black dirt equal mud, and that was something I didn’t think either of us wanted to deal with.  It had been so clean and neat the first time; the dried grass had acted as a kind of straw matting keeping us away from the dirt, and yet allowing the piss to drain away.   Nothing like that was available in the prairie area.  I contemplated going down to the lake, beyond the tiny gay beach, to a path that no one went on because it was a dead end, but the same issue came up in regards to the creation of mud.

That’s when I remembered a spot on the other side of the tracks; a valley of sorts, where there was a giant foam mattress.  Legend had it that there was a crazy crystal meth head that had dragged the foam mattress there.  It was his lair, where he would suck on his pipe, naked, with his ass in the air, waiting for strange dick to come along and fill his ass with spunk.  That was four years ago.  After I heard the legend, I made a date with a dude that wanted to fuck me outside.  We met there, with him walking up on me, finding me naked with my ass in the air (no crystal meth, though, thank you very much).  He took out his cell phone and took some pics of his dick sliding into my hole.  A good time was had by all, until this Hispanic dude walked up on us and wanted to join.  That kind of took the wind out of our sails.  Once we convinced him we were not interested, he split, and we tried to pick up where we left off, though the thrill had definitely been muted. 

I thought that spot would be perfect for another round of piss play with Wizzer.  I told him to meet me on the tracks at 11:00 am on the day we had agreed.

Arriving an hour early, I’d brought with me a construction-strength trash bag which I had slit along two edges, creating a dark plastic sheet.  After scouting the area, I determined that the foam mattress was in the process of disintegrating, so that would not work.  There was an open spot next to it, but it was in the shade.  Given the hour, you would have thought that it would have been warmer and drier, but morning dew still clung to everything and it was rather cool unless you were directly in the sun.  All the spots that were struck me as being too much out in the open, so I stuck with my spot in the shade, hoping that the sun would eventually cooperate. 

Wizzer arrived on time.  As ordered, I’d been drinking a ton of bottled water, for this time I was to piss on myself as well.  Wizzer had mentioned the possibility of a friend of his joining us, but the idea of being outdoors intimidated the dude and he backed out at the last minute.  No problem; I hadn’t been counting on anyone but Wizzer. 

I showed him the other possible spots and he agreed with my first choice.  I stripped and kneeled on the black plastic.  The sun had moved around the trees just enough so that I was now in the sun, but Wizzer was not.  The dark of the plastic soaked up the warmth, which meant it would be much more comfortable to lie down on.   Wizzer was wearing a different ball stretcher.  It looked real hot.  I had on a chrome cock ring, but then decided - since he was into ball stretching, I’d show him something I’d been working on.  I took six small chrome rings and, one by one, slipped my balls through them until they were stacked one on top of the other, creating a sweet ball stretcher.  I’d been right – Wizzer loved it.  He started playing with my balls right away, which made my dick positively pulse with anticipation.  

Play proceed exactly as it had last time: I’d suck his dick for a bit, he’d piss in my mouth, on my face, on my torso, on my dick, and then he’d mess with my balls some.  This time, when I would suck his dick, I really gave his balls a work out, always mindful not to push the envelope too far. 

He kept telling me to piss on myself, but there was no way that was going to happen with the hard-on I had going on.  I tried lying down to see if that would make a difference and while it gave Wizzer a different perspective on my body, it did nothing for me as far as pissing on myself.   Finally, during the fourth piss session, my cock pulsed and exploded – chunky white cum oozing down and pooling at the base of my dick.  Wizzer commented on what a turn-on it was to see those chunks of cum. 

Now that I’d shot my load, and once my dick relaxed a bit, I took all the rings off and looked forward to pissing on myself.  Only, it didn’t go quite as planned.  Every fifteen minutes before he got there?  I had to piss like a race horse.  But now that the pressure was on, my bladder had gotten all shy, despite the eight bottles of water I’d consumed in the previous hour and a half!

Wizzer on the other hand, was a piss king!  He just kept producing and producing.  I was finally able to piss on myself a little bit, but it was never the kind of flow that I get when alone, lying on the floor of the shower room at the gym after a workout.   Still, it was enough to meet the minimum requirement.   After a seventh round and a bit more piss from me, Wizzer called it a day.  It had been every bit as fun as the last time, though a bit more fraught with anxiety because of my inability to get a good stream of my own going.  However, as soon as I stood up, bingo!  I had to piss and did.  I guess it’s easier when standing up.  Gravity, perhaps?

He dressed as I began my clean up, eventually taking off;  leaving me on my own.  The sun felt great, not as intense as the time before, but just as nice.  This time, I was glad I had the towels.  In ways, it had been even more exciting this time.  I’d definitely gotten a better sense of who Wizzer was, and I liked him a lot. 

With fall’s heavy tread looming overhead, I doubt there will be time for another outdoor session, but you never know.  If another opportunity to travel down this particular yellow brick road should present itself, trust me…

…I’ll be flying over that rainbow in a heartbeat.