Fantasia on 'Porcelain Attraction'

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Fantasies are great when you're solo. But where do they come from? I was just reminded of some I used a long time ago. Oh, thanks Emma!


I enjoyed Emma's story 'porcelain attraction' very much, because I'm fascinated by fantasies of women peeing. Maybe it's because I see a sort of erotic connection with my own act of peeing. There I stand, holding my penis, watching the flow. I know that women do, but I have never got to watch the action 'in the flesh', in any sexual connotation, and I perennially wonder. I also never read of a woman making such a direct erotic connection as Emma did.

Actually, it's not quite true that I never witnessed a woman peeing. Not quite. There was one time. It was the early 70s and I had taken a commuter train to San Francisco for one of the sort of events we were famous for then. Commuter trains didn't have rest rooms, and this one made a lot of stops, picking up quite a crowd of people. We stepped out at the SF station and most headed for Market Street. Quite a few headed for the rest rooms though, me included.

Over at the ladies, there was quite a line. (Why can't architects figure out that women take longer than men and need more stalls?) Quite a number of them were looking stressed, a few were looking downright desperate. Finally one of the desperate ones walked over to the men's line and asked 'Hey, I really, really have to go. Do you mind if I use the men's?'

The City is a mellow place, and these events were mellow, too. Everyone shrugged or nodded. Gentleman that I was, and desperate as she looked, I offered her a cut in line ahead of me. She gratefully took it. When we got in, the stalls were full, but by then she had reached under her short skirt and was pushing hard with her fingers and starting to shake. One of the urinals came available, and she looked back and asked again 'Do you mind?' No comments. In my case, because I had no idea what she planned.

She stepped up close to the urinal, flipped her skirt up, did a little maneuvering of various parts, and peed. 'Oh, God! Thanks guys' she said as she put things back the way they were and turned to the sinks to wash up. I was stunned. I had no idea at that time that a woman could pee standing and make it hit where she wanted, but she apparently had. I was about 20 seconds behind her, but by the time I got out the door, she had blended into the crowd.

There was just a moment, but it has stayed with me. Here were a half-dozen men, standing there holding their penises, and in their midst, one woman with her hands doing unknown things with her vulva. Even in line, she was pressing her fingers hard against her pussy. It couldn't have been the least bit erotic to her, she was probably in pain, but omigawd, the effect on me! I've fantasized about that girl ever since as I masturbate. She was rangy and long-legged, (probably had to be to stand spread-legged with her pussy above the lip of the urinal, I suppose) pretty though not beautiful, and she wore her long dark hair in a pony tail. I could never resist pony-tails. So I fantasize. Oh, yes, I fantasize a dozen stories about what happens as she steps up to pee. Try this one for size?

I fantasize that I step up next to her, and my penis instantly gets hard in my hand as I hear her pee. No peeing for me. I cannot pee through an erection like that, so I stuff it back into my pants and head for the sinks to wash up. I step up beside her and say 'quite a relief wasn't it?'

She replies 'It was for me. You couldn't, could you? Sorry to mess you up.' Ever the gentleman, I say 'No, no. It was no problem at all. I didn't really need to go after all.' She laughs and says, 'You lie! You lie like a rug! I can see what you've got in your pants. Let's go outside.'

She grabs my hand and drags me outside, and we move with the crowd until she finds an alcove at the side. We move away until we're half-hidden, and she swings me around, puts her arms around me, and gives me a long, deep, wet kiss, her tongue probing deep into me. I push against her and she responds, grinding her mons and her clit against my penis. It takes only a few strokes and I cum, loosing all the pressure of that glorious moment into my pants, and gasping for breath as I do. She laughs and pulls back. 'Did you do it? You ought to be able to pee now, shouldn't you?' I don't need to, I tell her. I'm so wet I may as well pee my pants and go. She says 'No, go do it. I'll be right here.' I rush back to the restroom. A minute or later I'm back, but she has gone, blending into the crowd, leaving only the memory of that lovely warm body pressed tight against mine.

Or, how about a fantasy in which I'm the girl, standing in the women's line and needing desperately to pee?

I'm the girl with the long legs and the long pony tail, standing there in the line for the women's restroom and waiting. And waiting. And waiting. I'm so desperate that it's painful. I finally admit that I will never make it in the women's line and head over to the men's. 'Hey, I really, really have to go. Do you mind if I use the men's?'

Everyone is cool, and one guy up near the head of the line even offers me 'cuts' in front of him. I'm beginning to leak in my panties, so I slip a discreet hand under my skirt and inside my panties, and press hard to keep myself from leaking anymore. Finally, we get inside and one of the stalls gets empty. I head for it and slip my panties down, and let the flood come. Now I'm sitting there with my hand still on my pussy, and feeling so relieved I say 'Oh, God! Thanks guys.'

Then I begin fantasizing about all those guys standing there, ten feet away, with their penises in their hands, looking down at their flows. I imagine them, short penises, long. Slender, graceful ones and thick, fat ones. Circumcised penises, uncut. Curved. Straight. I try to match the penis with the guys I saw in line. How about the cool guy who let me take 'cuts' ahead of him? I imagine his penis is slim and elegant, average sized, and with a little curve to the left. Oh, it would slip in so easy and fit me so good! Oh, I'm so wet!

My fingers are moving between my vagina and my clit and I'm in a men's room with dozens of guys all holding their penises and thinking of me, hidden here in the stall. I cum. I'm going 'Uhh, Uhh, Uhh! Ohhhh! Ohmigodmigodmigod! Oh! Ohhhh!' Then it's over, and reality comes back. I'm in a stall in the men's restroom. I've just had a great orgasm, and not only is my pussy wet with my own juices, my panties are dripping with pee. I'd be better off with no panties than trying to put these back on. I slip them off, dry off, and step out. I probably look a little red in the face. I step over to the wash basins and rinse my panties, then wrap them in a couple of paper towels. 'Thanks, guys', I tell them as I head out and disappear in the crowd.

See what you can do with a small moment in time and a good imagination? Emma, you brought back a moment I haven't celebrated for quite a few years. Oh, God! Thanks, Emma.



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