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"Here's another chance for the anal retentive, uptight, conservative, paranoid, and inhibited among you to grab the telephone and tell me how sick I am. As usual, my advice is simple: "Don't read this column.""

Watersports, and I Don't Mean Swimming
by Jack Rinella

Here's another chance for the anal retentive, uptight, conservative, paranoid, and inhibited among you to grab the telephone and tell me how sick I am. As usual, my advice is simple: "Don't read this column."

On the other hand, more esoteric columns seem to garner a greater positive reaction from readers than the usual Jack Rinella fare. You go figure. It's guaranteed that during the week that this column runs, several of you will call wanting to find a piss scene. In the heyday of leather bars, that wasn't a very difficult task. You could get your piss, or give it as the case might be, in the men's room.

I have never been much for public sex so my first encounter with a watersport enthusiast was in a private apartment. I met this guy, a handsome Hispanic, at Jewel's in New Orleans, after just having relieved myself as I was taught: into a urinal, without looking at the crotches of the men who were standing on either side of me. Yes, I used to be a good boy!

Well, I went home with this guy and we had made out for a while on his bed when he asked me if I would piss on him. I warned him that the reservoir had been emptied not too long ago, but if he had something for me to drink, I'd try to oblige him. Several sodas later I gave him that golden shower as he lay in the bath tub.

Then it was my turn to try it. I lay down in the tub. He aimed his pecker at my chest and let loose with a warm, yellow stream of urine. It really felt nice. When he lowered his dick-aim to my crotch, the sensations were incredible and I shot all over the place. Needless to say, my first introduction to piss was memorable.

Over the years, I've dabbled in piss scenes now and again. They're not a regular part of my sexual repertoire. Quite frankly, I'm rather reserved as a pisser. I prefer to save my yellow streams for situations that are intimate, for friends that are special. That doesn't mean, of course that a complete stranger can't get a taste of my urine, but that's not my usual style.

I recently got a call from a rather closeted reader who lives in Milwaukee. In a tone of voice that betrayed his self-consciousness he asked me where he could find a good piss scene. I was quick to remind him that he was not as alone as he feared. Golden showers are much more popular than we think.

The most famous piss scenes probably took place in the legendary Mineshaft, a New York men's club located on the lower West Side of Manhattan. The Mineshaft's basement held several bath tubs, just for the satisfaction of those wishing to indulge in piss. Both givers and receivers found their libation in that old room. It was nothing for some guys to spend the whole night under the piss streams of men who had been filling up on beer just for the fun of passing it on to those who wanted it.

Lest you get the wrong impression, I never laid in any of those tubs. Most of the times that I was at the Mineshaft were "off nights" when one could only imagine the fantasies explored in such a wonderfully decadent bar.

It may be hard to believe but I tend to keep my sex and my pissing more private. In fact, I tend to be somewhat piss shy, not readily able to piss on demand as some might think. The toilet training of one's childhood is not easily dismissed. For me, it takes a good bit of drinking to fill my bladder to overflowing. When I do let loose it can be a considerable amount, but I don't often do that either in public or in a scene.

Since it takes a goodly amount of liquid to get me into a pissing mood, I have to have five or six beers and consciously save the urine in my bladder until I'm ready to share it. If I'm in a situation where beer isn't practical, (such as when I'm driving), I'll down one beer, several Pepsi's, and a couple of very large glasses of water. Coffee works well in such an instance, too, but I'm not much of a coffee drinker after breakfast so I choose other ways to get ready for piss play.

All that to say, being piss-shy isn't an obstacle if one plans for it. Face it: drink enough fluids and you'll piss no matter what's going on.

It would seem an obvious, but erroneous, conclusion that piss play is reserved to those into master/slave types of relationships. After all, pissing on a slave would seem to be a master's prerogative. It is ,of course, but if you think it's only an activity for domination, you're missing a great deal of what's going on. I'm sure I'm not alone when I say that golden showers are more of a sharing event than a dominance thing.

Urine certainly plays a part in master/slave stuff. After all, pissing on a slave is akin to marking him or her as your property, much like males of the animal kingdom mark territory. Dogs don't sniff at trees just for curiosity. They're checking for other dogs who've purposefully left a scent to say "Woof, woof, this is mine."

Having a slave drink from the tap of one's cock can be a worshipful experience, one where the slave, by his action, shows his commitment, his servitude, and his love. The truth is, though, that in most instances piss play is mutual. There is no top or bottom in the scene, just two people sharing a depth of intimacy that isn't often recognized as such by those outside the scene.

Now don't get me wrong, it isn't always mutual but most often that is the case. Golden showers are a buddy to buddy kind of thing. After all, our mothers taught us that pee-ing was private, no one allowed. "Close the door," was very much part of our earliest "potty" training. When we violate those kind of taboos we are making strong statements about intimacy and our freedom to let others into the most secret, most protected areas of our lives.

And that is often a mutual activity.

I can think of the times I've shared piss. We stood in the bath tub together. One let loose a stream of urine and the other received it. Usually the flow lands on one's chest and then moves to one's crotch. As the stream rises, it often hits the upper chest or chin. It's then that one's partner is most liable to go for the gold and suck some piss into his or her mouth. A taste becomes a drink. Then it flows over the head, colors and gives fragrance to the hair.

It's not unlikely for the receive to soon become the giver.

I like to take the piss into my mouth and then kiss my benefactor, spitting his piss into his mouth. The sharing goes back and forth until it's time to turn on the shower and get clean.

Believe it or not, the sex that follows is often quiet and loving, gentle and restive. That may be the case because with the piss we've had orgasms or maybe just having shared so much there is no need to share much more.

Copyright 1999 by Jack Rinella. This material may not be copied in any manner. For permission to reproduce this essay, contact mrjackr@leathermail.com

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