***
I insist on holding and directing the p***s during urination. Douglas insists that he cannot go. That will change, bladder shyness will dissipate.
A blindfold helps, as does a directing tug on his nostril tube to aid in forcing open his mouth. One glass of water, two, he’ll not be freed until he performs for me. And I believe a certain elixir will help frame his mind.
Yes, the good cop, daily offered the same, so after a third sizable glass of water, I mount the bed, and straddle Douglas’s head facing his feet. As I part my robe and lower myself, I align the small basin remaining between his thighs and awaiting his excretions.
“More to drink,” I gumptiously suggest, once again handling his p***s.
Having ridden the Sybian for nearly an hour, my moist and fragrant pouch remains exud
