Adoration 02

As I was drifting into that hazy landscape before sleep, I wondered how I would feel in the morning after what we had done together. Would I feel ashamed? Would I have a vulnerability hangover? I can remember times in my life when I revealed things about myself to others and then regretted it because they didn't understand. Not everyone admits that we are all messed up and uncertain and weak creatures. Most people hide from their fundamental indigence.

Truthfully, I have woken up feeling exultant. I feel rested, relaxed, and warm. Although we spoon when we tuck down for the night, usually we gravitate to our sides of the bed after we fall asleep. This morning we are still loosely entwined. I feel closer to him than ever. I feel as if I have been through an initiation, opened to new knowledge about myself and the world, and I have come through, feeling more loved and accepted than ever before.

I never used to feel confident about my body. What woman does!? We are never the right size and shape. Never slim enough. Breasts are never big (or small) enough. Each female friend of mine can recite a litany of deficiencies in her body that she would like to change.

When we first started having sex, I felt shy to be seen naked. If I could manage it, I would undress and be in bed without him seeing. But slowly it dawned upon me that he relishes my body, that he loves looking at me and touching me. I started to feel good about myself and I have grown to love walking around in the nude and seeing how his eyes are drawn to me. I now see that men love women's bodies and are somewhat helpless over their attraction to us. We have such power and, although, like any power, it must be used wisely, it is good to feel desired.

A big thing for me was learning to see and love my genitals through his eyes. I guess I felt ashamed of its smells and wetness and my periods. It is a changeable creature and I didn't know what to make of it. But then it became clear that his favourite thing was to spend time 'down there', touching, fingering, tonguing, tasting, and getting me more and more turned on until I orgasmed. It was almost as if he worshipped it. I think it is the mysterious part of a woman, the part that is the most hidden away, and every time was like an exploration, returning to the ground of his making.

And so, seeing them through his eyes, I grew to love my genitals. I learnt to receive pleasure from him without guilt. And I learn to enjoy giving myself pleasure. It is not as if I had never masturbated, but I had always been furtive and guilty about the act, whereas now I opened my legs and relished playing with myself, learning what I liked and the different orgasms I could give myself. I have come to love the gooey, slippery, slidey, smooth, and intricate folds of my vulva. I love putting my fingers inside my vagina and feeling around at the different textures and the sensation of exploration and fullness. I will bring my fingers to my mouth and taste myself, relishing the salty taste and the complex aroma. Sometimes I will spread my wetness over my lips and lick them as I continue to play with myself. A woman's body is amazing.

Last night brought me to a new level of appreciation for my ability to give pleasure to him. It is, of course, delightful to give him pleasure, but what he wanted yesterday was shocking and amazing. I guess I feel good that he trusted me enough to show me what he wanted, but I also found a new desire and power in me.

I was reluctant at the start, though. I thought of my pee as waste to be disposed of, not quite nice, and smelly if I'm not properly hydrated. It is to be flushed away. I can't imagine wanting to drink it. I was taken aback when he drank that first squirt of desperate pee when I couldn't hold it in. I could see how excited and aroused he was by me. As he stripped off my knickers and pulled me down on top of his mouth, I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold back much longer.

When I did, in the end, let go, a tingling rush of excitement came over me. I can't describe it completely. Yes, it is deliciously naughty to urinate into his mouth, but I suddenly felt powerful and that my urine was not disgusting but a life-giving nectar. I was pouring life into him. I was a goddess. Generative. Looking into his eyes, I felt bountiful and full of love for him. I have something he wants and I can give it to him.

The orgasm I had when he licked me was massive. It was a complex admixture of sexual climax along with that feeling of being intoxicating and utterly accepted. I could give myself to this pleasure completely knowing that, far from being selfish, I was giving him exactly what he longed for at the same time as receiving pleasure myself.

After I had come down from my orgasm, I knew my bladder wasn't empty, and when I continued urinating into his mouth, I knew that I was giving from my body as a gift to him. When I finally fully relaxed at the end and the last few drops came out, I felt complete. Lying here now I feel like a new person, more at home in myself, more confident of myself.

In the thick of all these thoughts and memories, I realise two things: I need to pee and I am getting turned on again. I don't need to touch myself to know that I am getting wet. I slide my middle finger between my labia and then bring up some of my juice to taste. I like it when I first wake up. It has a stronger, richer taste. I know he likes it too. He will sometimes dig his fingers into me and bring them out to suck on. I make him share it with me if it doesn't break the flow of what he is doing to me.

But he is still asleep. I have a decision to make. Do I go for a pee? Do I lie here and wait for him to wake up? He is lying on his back, nestled against me. I can see from the repose of the covers that his penis is stiff. "Piss proud," he calls it. He needs a pee too. I want to play with that erection, but not quite yet.

Taking hold of my newly-discovered confidence, and careful not to wake him, I slide surreptitiously from under the covers, stand up on the bed, my feet on either side of him, and then gently kneel so that my genitals are over his mouth again, assuming the position be put me in yesterday in the bathroom. I rest back on my heels, hovering over his mouth. I feel a rush tingling through my body and get goosebumps. I love seeing my sex lips so close to his. I can feel his breath. It is the anticipation of what is coming; and it is that feeling of power, that my body, focused through my genitals, is captivating, generative, nourishing, and an object of devotion. At this moment, I am a goddess again. I hover above his mouth, overtaken by divinity. I am all women.

I gently stroke his face. His eyelids flutter and then open to see me looking down on him. In this moment of his vulnerability, I feel a deep devotion to him. Even in my power and his helplessness, I feel only love and the desire for him to receive delight. Isn't this the desire of God?

Bit by bit, I let go of my bladder control until a few drops of my urine drip onto his lips. I see his pupils go wide. He licks his lips and then opens his mouth for me. Last night, in my desperation to pee, my urine gushed out. I want more control this morning, not only because I don't want to pee all over the bed, but more because I want both of us to savour this giving and receiving, this nourishing him with my nectar. I want to take my time over it and savour the moment.

I hold his face with my hands, as I might hold a sacred chalice. I release a slow but steady flow and watch it fall into his waiting mouth. I listen to the hiss of liquid from my urethra, the sound like wine as it pours in his mouth. I smell my smell as the warmth of it rises to my nostrils. I'm fully in this moment. This is what I am doing. I'm filling his mouth with my urine, giving him my bodily fluid to drink. When his mouth is full, I tighten my pelvic floor and stop the flow. I watch and hear him swallow. He tenderly kisses my sex lips and then opens his mouth for more. We look into each other's eyes as I fill his mouth again. I stop. He swallows. He opens. I say, "I love you," and fill his mouth again, and again, and again...

In a way, the last mouthful is the sweetest. It is when I can relax fully and the last drops trickle into his mouth. I wait for my muscles to relax completely, knowing there will be a final involuntary squeeze of urine, and I shiver a little as this happens.

I feel a sense of awe. I wonder if my vaginal sap has ever flowed so prodigally.