Time for cocktails

This blog should have been up yesterday-Tuesday-but I’m afraid I spent rather longer than anticipated prepping for today’s business meeting.

Yesterday saw me descend further. A further descent into my dark side. Am I getting too perverted? For you or for me? I can’t help it, the more I do the greater seems the satisfaction. The more content I feel. Comfortable within myself.

This particular descent started on Sunday with me peeing on the back of my horse. It sent tremors through me which kept repeating whenever I thought about what I had done. Then the ‘walk of shame’ back through the yard. The fact that I didn’t care, that I actually enjoyed the stares, ought to worry me, but it doesn’t.

Come Monday morning I was still on heat and decided early that I needed to do something outrageous. Taking my knickers off at work came top of the list, but I decided to add a further edge; to do it by taking them off in my office, rather than in the loo. Some followers have suggested I should go to work without them on, but that would ruin half the excitement, the anticipation, the risk.

I’m still sharing my office on a temporary basis with a co-worker, a man in his thirties, perfectly pleasant, but devoid of personality. I’ve said before that I had intended to keep my kinky side and my office persona in separate boxes, but my urges are demanding more and more attention, and the risk added so much. I decided I had time to take the knickers off, photograph them, and put them in my bag while he went to the loo.

The anticipation was tremendous. Exciting. I’d not have time to think about what I was doing once he stood up to go, and I had to hope he’d close the door when he left. It was late morning before he got up from his desk. He obviously didn’t announce he was going to the loo, and it was possible he was just popping into the outer office and would return immediately. The sheer adrenalin pump of the risk was making me juicy. As soon as he was through the door (luckily he did close it) I stood up, pushed my hands up my skirt, grabbed the edges of my knickers, and pulled them off. I put them on the floor behind my desk, grabbed my phone, and took a quick photo.

Then the office door opened. I bent down grabbed the pants and screwed them into a ball in my hand and turned to see who it was. My boss.

“You alright Tracy?” he asked.

“Fine,” I replied, “Why do you ask?”

“You look a bit flustered.”

You could say that! I thought.

I replied I was okay, he asked some small query about a job I was working on, and left.

My god. So close. But what a turn on. My heartbeat doubled when I thought about it and what his reaction might have been if he’d seen my knickers on the floor. I was still feeling the effects when my colleague returned. Somehow I managed to hide how I felt, although given his lack of imagination, even if I had shown some signs I doubt he would have had a clue as to my true state.

By the time I left for home, I could barely concentrate. I had to do something even more outrageous. Exhibitionistic or watersports? I hadn’t been for a pee for ages, so that seemed the natural choice. But what? I could set up all the camera gear and pee into some clothes. That appealed although the setting up of the gear was a headache, so trial and error that it tended to take some of the gloss off what I was doing. So something different, but what?

I got home, closed the door, threw my bag and coat in the corner and made for the drinks cupboard. I needed something restorative. Then a thought. What about making a drink from my pee? God, how horny. I wondered what might work. A quick trawl of Google answered that for me:

• 100ml champagne.
• 30ml orange juice.
• 20ml fresh urine.

To prepare, grab a champagne flute and pour in the urine and orange juice. Float the champagne on top using a bar spoon. Then stir lightly. Cheers!

I had a bottle of fizz somewhere; left over from my celebratory night when my divorce came through, so I delved into the cupboard and eventually found it.

I had the orange juice too, so just needed the pee. I undressed, grabbed a glass, and squatted down over it. Peeing, when I do it sexually, is so different from the feeling when just emptying my bladder. It’s difficult to describe other than saying it’s a total turn on.

I hadn’t been to the loo for ages so the glass was totally inadequate in size to absorb all I was discharging. It overflowed and cascaded onto the kitchen floor. Oh, god. That perverted feeling coursing through me! I’d clear it up later. I had to taste this cocktail. Delicious wouldn’t be the right word, but it was the perversion of the act that was so satisfying.

Over the evening I finished, the bottle (well it would go flat wouldn’t it?) each glass topped up with my pee. Each glass accompanied by a massive fingering of myself. The pee and my juices I’d clear up in the morning.

Another couple of days to go into my memory bank.

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