Now you probably shouldn't arrange anything with an anonymous dude over the internet but, boy, is it hot! The illicit, explicit communication that sees you expose yourself, not physically, but sexually and emotionally in a way that seems to be extraordinarily harder in person. It's so erotic. And then there's the anticipation of carrying out your arrangement. Countless cum has been spilled just thinking about what you are going or want to do.
Anyway, I'd met a guy on the internet who almost lived in the same city as me (I live in Coventry, England and he lived in a village, technically, on the outskirts) and we'd made this arrangement.
It had certainly been awesome putting it together but, as I got dressed and prepared to catch the bus, I was feeling extremely nervous. I was wearing a tennis outfit essentially: close fitting white t-shirt, white shorts, white socks and white trainers. We had made sure it was a lovely hot summer day.
The first 'rule' of our scheme was that I wasn't to adjust my cock in any way, i.e., if I got hard there would be no tucking it into my waistband or otherwise disguising my bulge. And wouldn't you know, I had been hard for ages. So it was with what felt like a massive tenting in my shorts (though it was probably hardly noticeable by anyone else!) that I left the house and strode across a few streets to a bus stop where I hoped no-one would recognize me.
Part of the fun is the anonymity. Knowing that you do disgusting or unusual things but your neighbours and friends think you are entirely respectable and clean living. Phew!
I approached the bus stop and, yup, there was a queue. That was good and bad. Bad, because I felt incredibly exposed and nervous. Good because I might be able to get on the bus without the driver seeing my erection and telling me to clear off. That said, the nervousness started to have an effect and my shorts subsided.
The bus arrived and while the journey was uneventful, my cock had had time to think and was pretty stiff as the bus made its way to the village and my destination. Still, I didn't feel so exposed as I alighted with lumpy shorts.
I pulled the scrap of paper out of my pocket (I only had the paper, my front door key and the bus fare home in there) and checked the address and little map. It sure was quiet round here. I followed the directions and soon arrived at the close and made my way to number seven, at the end of a little cul-de-sac. It was quite open, the house was clearly visible from all the others.
I rang the bell and knelt on the mat. I took the keys and map and money out of my pocket and placed them an arm's length away. I knelt up straight and even though it had probably only been about five seconds since the first time, rang the bell again.
Shortly, the door opened and there was, I presume, my correspondent. He didn't say a word, pulled out his swollen but not properly stiff penis and pointed it at me. He exhaled deeply but gently.
A second or two passed. Then it came.
His first stream splashed between my knees but he quickly adjusted. The second full stream hit the side of my chin and splashed up into my ear which made me shudder involuntarily. He giggled and starting working on drenching every inch of me with his warm, golden pee. He did one sleeve of my t-shirt, moved across my chest and soaked the other sleeve.
