Content note: this post deals heavily and graphically with watersports/piss-play, and also mentions Daddy Dom/little girl roleplay, impact play, and tipsy sex.
Bex: How do you not have a watersports kink?!
Me: You know… It might be dormant. It might be latent. I’m not not into pee, is the thing. I could be persuaded. But it would have to be with the right person.
-the bodily fluids episode of The Dildorks
I guess I should’ve suspected I was into pee when I started drinking my own at age 10.
Not often, mind you. Not, like, as part of my daily routine. It wasn’t a step in my beauty regimen. I didn’t even have a beauty regimen. I was 10.
No; I started doing it because I was curious. After discovering the wonders of orgasms via bath faucet at 9, I went on to learn that if I kept rubbing my clit shortly after coming, I would get the urge to pee. Fascinated by this expulsion, and at first believing it to be some kind of special fluid imbued with sexual meaning rather than straight-up urine, I tried letting it out into a cup and then sampling it – ’cause hey, why not? (Years later, I discovered the concept of retrograde ejaculation as it pertains to people with vulvas, and I wonder now if that’s what was going on back then – so maybe my ideas about the content and purpose of the liquid weren’t entirely wrong.)
I didn’t keep records on this kind of thing back then – not like I do now – so I don’t have the insight I wish I had about my exact motivations for doing this and continuing to do it, nor do I recall how many times I did it, exactly. But I do know that it cemented in my mind the idea that pee just isn’t that gross (at least, not to me). This core belief probably informed a lot of my later work: my sex-positive conviction that even seemingly “disgusting” kinks are just fine if consensual, my science-heavy writing on the differences between peeing and squirting, and – now – my forays into watersports.
If you don’t know, the word “watersports” – in a kink context, not an athletic one – refers to activities involving the erotic enjoyment of urine and/or urination. It’s also known as “golden showers,” though I prefer the more holistic “watersports” moniker because not all piss-play involves getting showered in pee. There are other things you can do with that liquid gold!
Watersports is one of those kinks that I was always vaguely curious about but had little motivation to actually try. My interest ramped up when my best friend tried it and described it as “surprisingly chill” (but then, Bex is surprisingly chill about most kinks). I figured, if I ever gave it a shot, it’d either be a one-off encounter with a fetishist for whom piss-play was central to their enjoyment of sex, or an intimate exploration with an open-minded long-term partner. As it happened, the latter situation was the one that arose first.
My Sir and I have frequent conversations about new kinks we’d like to try together. As he’s pointed out to me, this is actually a foundational aspect of our relationship: part of what cemented our newfound intimacy when we first started dating was our full-hearted willingness to try out each other’s biggest kinks – mine being DD/lg, his being hypnosis – each without having ever tried the other person’s before. There is nothing quite like the intimate rush of trying something new with someone you’re really into, and the more we did it, the more we liked it and the better it felt. Monitoring and discussing our burgeoning fantasies became a structured part of our relationship; we do it at least a few times a month, when we make to-do lists for our in-person dates and do our bimonthly relationship health check-ins.
It was in one such discussion that piss-play first came up in our relationship. We were out at the best restaurant in the world (seriously), sipping cocktails, when I glanced over at him and mused, “We should do watersports sometime.” He agreed, enthusiastically. And so it began.
Our first try was simple and small, because that’s what I wanted. I’m the type of person who likes to tiptoe into new things when possible, rather than jumping in at full force. We agreed that I would kneel in front of him in the shower and he would pee on my chest. (The toilet at my apartment was also, incidentally, broken at the time, so, uh, our timing was fortuitous.) I closed my eyes and felt the warmth flow onto me; it was only as gross as it ever is to be achingly close to the genitals of someone you love and love to fuck, which is to say, it wasn’t gross at all. The next time we tried it was the same, except that I asked him to aim for my face instead. Once again, it was totally fine. It didn’t turn me on, exactly, but it made me feel closer to him, which is sometimes the whole point of kink.
However, unlike me, my Sir is the sort of person who likes to leap into new things with his whole self. (This, for reference, is the same guy who went from “DD/lg? Never heard of it!” to “Let’s be in a 24/7 DD/lg dynamic!”) In one of our pre-date planning sessions, he told me he wanted me to pee on him. “Where?” I asked. He replied, “Literally anywhere.” Ever a hyper-curious kink nerd, I asked him about his motivations for wanting this, and he said:
“I want you to pee on me because I want you to mark me in the same way I’ve marked you so we’re each other’s, because all of your bodily fluids have turned me on (tears, cum, blood, sweat) and I think this one will too, because I want to be vulnerable in that way, because I’ve never tried it before and I want to try it with you first, and because thinking about you standing over me, using your cunt to spray your pee on my face, turns me on. I love getting you all over me. I want more of it.”
As an anxious person is wont to do, I started plotting and mentally rehearsing what I wanted to do, and by the time we saw each other next – for a weekend getaway to Boston – I had it all figured out.
We agreed that the best time for this activity to occur would probably be after a night out at a cocktail bar, because a) being slightly tipsy often makes me dommier and b) lots of liquids, y’know? We stopped by Drink for a couple of Saturday-night bevs. Toward the end of our time there, I gestured vaguely toward the bathroom and said, “I guess I shouldn’t go to the –” and Sir interrupted, “No, you shouldn’t. And drink all of this,” sliding a full glass of water toward me. I already had to pee, so I knew we were off to a good start.
En route back to our hotel in an Uber, I started pulling his hair and lightly slapping his face, to get us both into the right headspace for what we wanted to do. It’s uncommon for us to switch up our dynamic – I’m submissive to him probably 95% of the time – but we’ve done it enough times that I basically know how to summon my inner domme when I need to. As we got out of the car in front of the Godfrey, I thrust my pink purse into his hands and instructed him to carry it up to our room for me. Watching him do this got me feeling even more in control.
When we finally got back to our room, I told him to go into the bathroom, take off all his clothes, and lie down naked in the shower. I waited by the bed and had to pee so bad by this point that I couldn’t sit still and had to pace tensely around the room. I took off all my clothes except my underwear, because I was concerned that if I removed them, too, I’d accidentally pee on the nice hotel carpeting!
Once he was ready, I went into the bathroom and saw him lying naked on the shower stall floor as requested. As I slid my panties off, I said, “Tell me what you want,” because consent, as you know, is important. “I want you to pee on me,” he said. “On your chest and on your face and in your mouth?” I clarified, and he said, “Yes.”
That was all I needed. I straddled his chest and stared down into his blue eyes, wide with submission and maybe a little bit of fear. “Ready?” I asked. “Yes, Princess,” he said. I started to piss on his hairy chest and heard him moan, immediately, like he’d been waiting a while for this, because he had. So had I.
I knew I had a fair volume of liquid to work with, but nonetheless I moved up onto his face fairly quickly. As I looked down and saw his open mouth filling with my piss, I began laughing – a devious domly cackle I couldn’t control. It was just such an absurd situation, a delightful power trip. He swallowed the whole mouthful, and I moved off his face to give him time to breathe, but before too long he was panting, “Please, Princess, I can take more,” and who’s gonna say no to that? I let loose into his mouth again, watching it fill up a second time, only to be swallowed once more. What a good boy.
I stayed astride him once I was done, intermittently slapping his pretty face while pulling with fascination at his urine-soaked hair. As you might know, kink can heighten your perceptions to a kind of technicolor vividity, so I remember with total clarity the way it smelled in the room, the way his damp hair felt in my hands, and most of all, the helpless and utterly enamored look in his eyes as he gazed up at me. I felt totally powerful and wholly sure of myself – a rare feeling for me, given my relative lack of experience with dominance. It was a moment of crystalline intimacy unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced in kink.
After slapping him around a bit more, I got up and turned on the shower so he could wash off. I handed him, in turn, the little hotel-provided bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and body wash. He asked – so sweetly – if he could shave his face so it would be smooth enough for me to sit on, and I watched him closely as he did so. His submission and obedient headspace were evident in his every movement, as he eliminated all traces of roughness from his gorgeous face so his Princess could sit atop it like a throne.
Once we were both clean, we retreated to the bed for more switchy D/s fun: impact play, facesitting, a long teasing blowjob, and more. But the watersports in the shower is what has stuck with me from that encounter. It’s seared into my brain. I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.
The only thing we wish we’d done differently, in hindsight, is keeping him better hydrated after the piss-play portion of the scene. He was pretty dehydrated throughout and too subspacey to communicate it until afterward, when I brought him a glass of water. It hadn’t occurred to me to plan for this because it hadn’t occurred to me that he would swallow that much of me. We’ll know for next time!
We’ve had several subsequent conversations about the intensity of that scene, its singularity in our sex lives both individually and as a couple, and our mutual desire to try more watersports in the future. As with most of the times I’ve tried a new kink with a partner, I feel this one pulled us closer together and cemented our bond even further. And it was also – unexpectedly – really fucking hot.
Content note: this post deals with consensual objectification and erotic hypnosis. It also mentions dissociation during sex.
More pieces of this fantasy clicked into place when I started dating a hypnosis kinkster. There’s a lot of crossover between hypnokink and fantasies like “dollification” and “bimbofication”: reducing a usually competent, articulate person to a static, dim-witted version of themselves. At first, I didn’t understand this fantasy – who would want to feel unintelligent, especially in a situation where seeming attractive is important to most of us? – but, in deeper subsequent explorations of subspace, I’ve come to understand why someone might want to feel… not lesser-than, but… blank.
