This story is a work of fiction. Nothing here happened in real life.
If you don't like water sports or gay content, or you aren't old enough to read this, then don't read this.
If you have any response to this, if it gets you off, if you have any other fantasies on piss play, then e-mail me, I'd love to read them.
"Pissed On By Priest"
Today was the big day. My sister has gotten married. I was happy for her, even though I knew I'd never be getting married, even if I wanted to. My sister loves me, but she's also a big Catholic. I'm not so big, although I still go to confession sometimes. Self-hatred never quite goes away.
Anyway, my boyfriend was out of town, so I was horny as hell. I was also drunk. Not a good combination. I'm pretty sure I winked at the best man. I also ended up leering at the priest. Father Fuckable, as I always called him. Actually his name is Father Francis. He's very conservative, very traditional, very staid. He's also tall, dark, handsome, with piercing green eyes, flawless skin, a forelock of hair constantly falling in those eyes, and he has a huge dick bulge which he seems more than happy to showcase in his tight black slacks. No matter what line of work they're in, guys with big dicks always find a way to show them off. I'm pretty sure he caught me peeking.
I was planning on splitting during the reception. My sister was OK with it. I went to the bathroom to take a piss before I left. While I was in the middle of the piss, who should walk in and take a step beside me than the good priest.
"Nice wedding, eh Tony?"
I nodded along.
"Yeah. You did a great job, Father Fuck...er...Francis."
I cringed at myself. Before I could dwell on that blunder any further, my jaw dropped as he pulled out his dick. 9 fat, long, hard inches. He shook it around, showing off, acting like he didn't realize what he was doing. We both knew he did.
Finally he gave up the pretense.
"Father Ryan has told me all about what a dirty sinner you are, Tony. That filthy mouth of yours is full of the demon seed."
I wanted to defend myself. I knew I'd done nothing wrong. But that horse cock had me under a spell.
"Get on your knees for your punishment."
I dropped to my knees, massaging my rapidly hardening 6 and a half inches. I thought Father Fuckable was going to make me suck him off. Instead, to my shock, he started pissing on me. I flinched. No one had ever treated me this way before. I felt so dirty and cheap. I opened my mouth to ask him to stop, but he aimed his flow at my mouth, feeding me the acrid, yellow urine.
"I've been preparing for this wedding, you cocksucker. I wanted you to know just what I thought of you. That piss is specially flavored just for you."
I whimpered as he coated my face and hair in his seemingly endless stream, then began to ruin my only good tuxedo shirt. Yet, in spite of my shame, I quickly looked down to realize I was rock hard. Father Fuckable realized the same; I could tell by the smirk on his face.
I was so ashamed, and yet so horny. I decided to go for broke. I ripped open my shirt and pulled down my pants, then pulled off my soaked jacket and shirt and tie. I was almost totally naked, my 5'8'', beefy frame on display. The piss had soaked through my shirt onto my hairy chest, glistening as I tweaked my meaty nipples. I could tell Father Fuckable liked what he saw.
On my knees, I crawled over to his depleted dick and began to suckle him. I always give good head, and the groans and moans from the priest told me I hadn't lost anything. I carefully slid my tongue up and down the deep piss slit in his bell end, while I reached around to yank his pants around his ankles. His toned globes felt so firm in my hands, I continued to jerk him off and tug at his tight ball sac while I turned him around to eat out his equally tight asshole.
"What are you doing???" He bellowed, yet he never bothered to pull away from me. He wanted this, just as much as I did. I stuck a finger to join my tongue, loosening him up. My dick wasn't the longest, but it was awfully thick, and I knew he'd remember this first time.
We went over to the mirror. I wanted him to see his reflection as he lost his anal cherry. As I began to slowly drive myself into him, I popped open his black short sleeve shirt, revealing his smooth torso. Fingering his nipples as he grunted and ground his big dick against the cool porcelain sink. He was stripped of everything but his priest collar and a gold cross necklace. That was the image I remembered the most when I blew my load into him.
I turned him around and we just looked at each other. I knew by his face he had pissed all over me and trash talked me because he wanted to try to make me feel shame, and that this had gone further than he'd expected. But not further than he'd wanted. I reached in for a kiss. He resisted, at first, but after leaving a bright red mark on his neck, I made my way up to his lips and soon he met my tongue with the eager tongue of his own. He was finally giving in to all his fantasies and fears.
Up to then, I never did get a chance to finish my piss. I think the priest knew what I wanted. He kissed his crucifix necklace, and slowly went down to his knees. I let flow, giving everything I had. Covering this slut priest in my piss. His open mouth, his eyes closed, his head up, like he was looking above. In a way I was cleansing him, rebirthing him with my release. I knew an enormous load of self-hatred had been lifted off his firm shoulders.
Then I zipped up, cleaned up, and left. I knew Father Fuckable was never going to forget our little meeting. I doubt it would be repeated, but I didn't care. I was too busy waiting for my boyfriend to get home so I could introduce him to the hot world of piss play that my good priest had just shown me. I had a feeling he'd like it.