He stands over me, looking down. I’m wedged in the bath, less body conscious than I thought I’d be. Damn my legs look good. He doesn’t have his cock in his hand like I expected but leans over the side. He’s probably too hard to do it just now.

We chat a bit, I try and make him feel comfortable and not look him in the eye. I should probably be wanking but I’m not. 

I can see a droplet of liquid at the end of his cock but it won’t come. I reach up to coax it out and it disappears. He tells me I’ve scared it off. I tell him about the last time I tried this and the guy came over me instead. We both laugh as he asked me how on earth that could happen. He relaxes. 

And then suddenly a tiny spurt drips into the bath, only hitting my wrist. It’s warm and thin, not as torrential as I expected. I’m giggling. He’s giggling. 

He’s got stage fright. Understandable – this is his kink but I share it. But he won’t let me do it on him. Fair enough. 

We chat a bit more and talk about how face pee-ing is gross. Not for us. 

Suddenly another stream hits my stomach, hot and wet. Now he aims it, over my pussy, my arms and stomach. Light spatters hit my face. It smells of coffee. There is a lot of it. 

He’s disappointed, a little let down.  We discuss how he enjoyed the feeling of power, standing over me like that. But embarassment about his stage fright- apparently the same happens at the urinal. He offers to wash me and there’s laughter as I reach for the shower head and clean myself off, slipping about ungracefully with a too-hot tap.