Drining Piss Behind Dairy Queen

I meet my weed dealer in the Dairy Queen parking lot again.

"Hey, can I ask you something," Mason asks, taking a drag on the joint. Heavy smoke is quickly filling my car, and I can't take my eyes off of his crotch.

"Sure thing," I say.

"Would you--" Anything, please yes anything. "--want to drink my piss again?"

"I--" I have thought about drinking Mason's piss every time I've jacked off since the day it actually happened. Almost like he rewired my brain. Remembering, yes, but also fantasizing: drinking Mason's piss in my shower, in a movie theatre, at a club, during a concert, on road trips, when he comes home drunk at night, when he doesn't want to get out of bed, when he doesn't want leave the poolside, in a tent, whenever, whenever, whenever.

"Because I haven't been able to stop thinking about it." Mason reaches down and readjusts his crotch. Oh, fuck.

I would like to do more than that, I want to tell him. He passes me the joint and I take a long draw on it, pulling in air, holding, exhaling. "I would like to do more than that," I find the strength to say.

"Fuck, dude," Mason says, squeezing his cock through his jean shorts. It's clear where his cock lay as it thickens.

"Would you like to come back to my place?" I ask, pointing my thumb somewhere south of us. "I don't live too far away."

"I would," Mason says, "but I've been holding it since I got in your car." He shakes his nearly-empty DQ cup to illustrate his point. My heart thunders. I reach for his zipper, but Mason doesn't wait. He shifts his hips off of the seat and slides his shorts and underwear down, his half-plump cock smacking against his thigh as he frees it. His balls hang heavy on my car seat. One hand slides up his mid-section, lifting his shirt to show his hairy belly.

I can't help but groan. I would be embarrassed about how badly I want this, but I want this man to know everything about me. I want him to know that I would do every single one of those things I've fantasized about.

I take a hit on the joint. "You are so fucking hot," I say, punctuated with a lusty exhale.

"Thanks, man." He takes a hold of his cock and holds it upright, wagging it a bit. "So are you." I hand him the joint and bend over, putting my face into his crotch. He moves his hand out of the way, his cock lolling slowly to the side. I bury my nose in his pubes. He hasn't showered today. I'm okay with that. I want to live here.

He squirms in his seat. He really needs to go. I brush my tongue down the length of his cock. It pulses, flexing against my lips. I want to take my time. I want this to last forever. I also want him to piss in my mouth, so I slip the head of his dick between my lips. He moans. His cock is plump, filling my mouth, both hard and not. He takes one last hit from the joint and drops the filter into his DQ cup.

It takes him a moment to get started. I'm not complaining. My cheek is resting again his hairy belly. I could hold his soft cock in my mouth for hours. Except his cock isn't soft, it's getting harder, growing in my mouth.

"Fuck. Shit. Sorry," Mason says. "I'm trying not to get hard. I've been thinking about this a lot."

I want to say "me too" but his cock swells again. Mason sighs and my mouth is filling with his piss. I wasn't expecting it and my lips threatened to give, threatened spilling his piss all over his lap and my car. That might also be kind of hot, but probably not something to do behind the Dairy Queen. Then again, I'm hardly a reliable source of guidance on appropriate behaviors in the Dairy Queen parking lot.

I swallow a big gulp, my tongue squeezing his cock against the roof of my mouth as his piss coats my throat. I have to swallow again quickly, he's pissing a lot. It's mild in taste, salty on my tongue.

He puts a hand on the back of my head. Oh, fuck that's hot.

Something about drinking piss makes time slow to a stop and fly by at the same time. My ADHD-fueled, weed-confused brain is trying to record every second of this, even feeling. Like there's a way that sometimes his piss traces right down the center of my tongue and I can feel it in my nipples, in my swelling cock. My cock is hard, swollen and trapped, too small to lay comfortably to either side so my erection had no choice but to strain upwards, directly against my briefs, against my fly.

I keep swallowing, and he keeps pissing. "Jesus Christ," I would say if my mouth wasn't full. My mouth fills quickly each time, his stream still heavy. My mouth is warm with the heat of his insides. I realize he's making one long, soft moan as his bladder empties down my throat. His cock has softened again and I can feel the piss flowing through and into my mouth.

Finally the stream weakens, stopping and starting again as he squeezes that last of it out. His fingers curl, threading through my hair, his hand holding my head against his crotch with more authority. I leave the last swallow, two small spurts, pooling in my mouth, reluctant to let the moment go. Mason's body has relaxed in his seat, but his cock is doing the opposite, thickening back up quickly until I have to swallow the last drops before his dick threatens to force them out. Hard, his cock is still short and plump, so I bury my face into his pubes and let the head of his dick push against the back of my throat.

"Fuck," he says, a long drawn-out sound as his dick threatens to gag me. He lets his hand relax. I slide my mouth up the length of his cock, breathing through my mouth for the first time since this started. Then I take over, swallowing it again in one slick motion. Mason exclaims as I blow him, small sounds and quiet curses. His hips pump up as my head bobs down, both forceful and surprisingly tender.

"I really want to come full around at your house," he says "but I also really, really want to shoot in your mouth."

I nod the best I can and make encouraging noises. His quiet curses return and it only takes three pumps before the head of his cock swells and his cum hits the back of my throat with more force than his piss. I gag for a moment but get it under control. I don't want to miss this, I don't want to take my mouth off again until his entire load pools on my tongue.

On his second shot, he grunts loud enough that I'm concerned that people in the drive-thru might be able to hear him. His hand clamps on my skull again, holding my head in place as he pumps his load into my mouth. The smell of cum fills my nasal cavity as shot after shot erupts from his cock.

Finally his grip relaxes, but I don't move. I really do want to keep his cock in my mouth forever, just like this. I want to follow him around and swallow all of the piss and cum that he'll let me have. I want to feel his piss soaking my chest and spraying my cock as I jack off. Fuck, I really want to jack off again.

Mason pulls his hand away from my head and I let his cock fall from my mouth. As I sit up, he leans forward and presses his face against mine until our lips meet. He's kissing me, god damn it, and I want to cum. His tongue slides between my lips, lapping at his own piss and cum.

"Fuck, I taste good," he says. There's a drop of cum on his lower lip.

"You do."

"You want to take me back to your place now so I can see how you taste?"