Midnight Pissing

 It was yet again another sleepless night. And all I wanted was to drown the time in booze. It was better than just counting the minutes away. Anything was better than just letting time slip by. And that included drinking.

I never considered myself an alcoholic. Or addicted to the nectar of the gods. Even though I constantly thought of having a drink. But instead, had chosen cigarettes over anything else. From the point of view of convenience, cigarettes reigned divine. You could easily find a nice shaded spot and light one cancer stick and get rid of all the stress and anxiety for 32 more minutes. Convenient and quick. It only took about 5 minutes of my busy day. And I was ready for more of what life had in store for me.

I was never a neurotic person, at least not in public. I had gained experience on certain techniques to deal with that part of my personality when I was around others. Yes, I had become excellent at hiding that personality trait from others. I mean, from time to time, it was quite obvious that the situation called for me to act nervously, somewhat of a fusspot. And that was ok too. I didn't mind it at all. After all, I had realized that people will judge you anyway.

I moved away from my bed and headed to the kitchen. Put a jacket on and opened the door to the balcony and shut the door behind me. I lit a smoke and reached for a nice chilled bottle of beer that I had placed there to get them naturally cold. It was a common practice in the cold days of winter and autumn where I lived. That and potato salad. But I guess you could do without a fridge during these times too. So basically, I just used my balcony when I wanted to smoke, cool beer down, and grow tomatoes in the spring and summer.

It was a Saturday, well into midnight. I opened the beer with help of my lighter. The bottle cap flew out of the window and fell on the neighbor's garden downstairs. "Shit", I thought, this is the last thing I need, another notice posted everywhere on the building scolding an unknown culprit of littering the poor neighbor's garden with cigarette butts, bottle caps, and other shit. But, oh well, I didn't really mean for the cap to pop off in the wrong direction now, did I?

I began puffing my Blue Camel's delight and took sips of beer. I puffed again and again. I was a bag of nerves. I didn't know why or what was going on. So I gulped down on my pilsner and lit another smoke. I was clearly having a nervous breakdown. Was it because the sleep deprivation was kicking in? Was it the fact that I had to stay in isolation for the next 5 days? Was it the fact that I didn't have any friends and my act had caught on me?

I felt an incredible urge to piss. Was it the beer? Was it the cold? Was it the fact that in a normal night, my bladder would wake me up at around this time to release all the liquids I had ingested before attempting in vain to fall asleep?

I gently put out my cigarette. I didn't want to damage it in case I wanted to light it up again later. I put the empty beer bottle on the floor and moved into the kitchen. I closed the door behind me and walk towards the toilet. I didn't have to unzip my pants. I loved the freedom that only my pajamas could provide. I took my dick out and began pissing. 

Pissing is one of the greatest feelings we have the pleasure to experience in this life. And, I realized then that all the anxiety and stress I had experienced earlier, all went away. 

"I am cured", I thought while shaking my penis to get rid of the excess urine. I felt a tremendous relief. And with that a strong need to go back to bed and finally sleep.

Hrms Etc

5.2.2022

If I Could, I Would Hover While He's Making Love To You

I always had a handsome and very well-endowed cock, In Junior High, whenever us boys had our wielding workshop hour, and the ranging hormones would make the teen aged guys show off their cocks, and their masturbation techniques, I was king.

I do not know if it was genetics. I was taller than my father. I had relatively smaller feet than the rest. But my cock was huge and porn-like shaped. They all admired it. But to me, it was a big problem, all puns intended. To fit in the skinny jeans that were in at the time made it impossible for me to sit normally. But I indeed liked the bulge in my crotch. Nicely shaped and apparently, both boys and girls enjoying looking at it.

I had never had any problem with my penis. On the contrary, it had always been an advantage all throughout my life. Until the day I went to visit my best friend in Berlin.

I arrived in Berlin. It was my first time in Europe. I had some friends in the capital of Germany and I was in town for a few days visiting them. 

I felt sexy in Berlin. I thought I fit right in. The streets and buildings were all very different. The people weren't as I had always imagined Germans. They were relaxed and somewhat friendly. The autumn leaves were everywhere on the ground padding my every step towards sex, drugs and rock music.

I lit a blue camel up and puffed while I headed down Eisenbahnstraße.

I entered the Black Bar. The only thing that wasn't black were the golden bird cages decorating the tables. Rammstein echoed in the blackness if this place.

"Der Jüngling steigt den Berg mit Qual

Die Aussicht ist ihm sehr egal

Hat das Röslein nur im Sinn

Bringt es seiner Liebsten hin"

My friends were sitting at the very back of the bar. They drank beer and smoked the same brand of cigarettes like me. No wonder why I had chosen them to be my friends. They had been there in my darkest hours. And they had always liked me and I think they also liked to secretly look at my bulge. I didn't mind.

We drank and caught up with our lives after years of not having seen each other. We drank beer and 

Jägermeister chasers. We drank White Russians and talked about how different our lives had become. You see, after High School, the world changes your. You do things that set you apart from the rest and sometimes you cannot related to the people anymore. But not us. We talked about fucking, drinking and drugs,

We were a successful bunch that distance could not keep apart. 

We talked about going to a sex club after midnight. We talked about a bar that has a needle dispenser for junkies. And we smoked weed.

I asked my friends about the local costumes and about the food. Sausages and Sour Kraut. Beer and Berlin. Too much drinking had led me to have a full bladder ready to leave my body.

So I headed to the men's room. To my surprise, there was only one bathroom. 

A unisex bathroom, that's cool, I thought.

The walls were black, the sink was black and even the toilet was black. But there was no urinal.

So I unzipped my jeans and walked towards the toilet seat only to find a sign. There were no words written, only a stick man pissing standing up crossed out. 

When in Rome, do as the Romans do, I thought. So I sat and tried to piss sitting down.

What an ordeal. My cock, being porn-like big did not fit inside the toilet with me sitting down.

I thought of how horrible it would be for me to catch some disease in my cock for having touched the bowl with my dick.

Fuck, I said.

I stood up and pissed standing.

What was a guy with a big cock like me supposed to do while taking a leak in a Berlin toilet? 

Hrms Etc

30.11.2014

Go On & Smile, You Cunt!

Waking up to the forever-painful-reminder-of-having-drunk-way-too-much-wine-and-having-smoked-way-too-many-cigarettes-and-more-than-one-puff-of-white-widow was, strangely enough, becoming a habit.

It was 10:17 am and the birds were singing outside. I could hear their goddamn conversations as if they were sitting next to my left ear. I was always able to hear better with my left ear. It was like when women tell you that one of their tits is bigger than the other, or when serious looking people tell you that they have one arm or leg longer than the other. But for men, it's always the balls. One is always hanging lower than the other 'cuz it's bigger and produces more sperm, so that is why it's bigger and heavier. For me, it was my hearing abilities. I could hear better with my left ear.

I was still drunk, sweaty and I had this strong urge to piss. I could't get up. It hurt to even think. The noise outside felt like atom bombs exploding inside my skull. This had to be what if fells like when you die, or when you are born. Everything was so painful. The light, the sounds, the thoughts. Had I been born again?

I tried to recall the events that took place the night before. I just remembered I had tons of red wine. Fuck, I needed a cigarette. 

I managed to get out from the painful comfort of my own bed. I looked for a cigarette in a futile attempt to numb myself out of this all. I searched everywhere but apparently i had ran out of smokes. Deep inside my shoulder bag there was an almost destroyed joint. Not what I had been longing for but definitely something I could puff on, and maybe something that would help the pain go away.

I took out my zippo lighter and lit the crooked joint. I began smoking mother nature's remedy.

Soon I felt better. As if I had just begun feeling the booze kick in. It was nice. So I made my way into the toilet. I needed to release some pressure from my bladder. I lowered my briefs and took my cock out. I never liked wearing boxers. I had always liked to keep my cock and balls concealed into a nice bulging shape. Hence avoiding the uncomfortable feeling of my nuts jumping all round when I danced.   

I was sweating alcohol. With my left hand I held the joint. With my right one I held my cock. I puffed another white cloud of this miraculous medicine. I looked down and tried to aim my piss at the center of the toilet bowl. I didn't want to miss the spot. 

A nice, almost transparent discharge of piss came out of my cock making me feel  somewhat aroused. 

This was the side effects of drinking too much red wine, I thought.

I could smell the alcohol leaving my body in the form of urine. I exhaled what seemed to be a white wind whirl byproduct of the widow I was smoking.

I continued to piss. And as I did, I could feel my cock getting harder and harder. The feeling that you get when your cock is getting bigger, in your hand, someone else's mouth or in your pants, is something so amazing to try to describe it.

I began shaking my dick, as men always do when they are done pissing. All I could think of was my friend's almost wise words: "A mouth is a mouth. As long as a mouth is wrapped around your cock, you don't really care if it's a dude's or a chick's". All I could think of was that I wanted a mouth to suck on my hard cock. Goddamn red wine, I thought. It always makes me so fucking horny. I began to masturbate.

As I continued stroking I realized that this was not my toilet. And that someone had been standing behind the ajar doors long enough to catch a glimpse of me and my cock. 

A mouth is a mouth, I thought to myself.

Dick Pound

4.22.2014

Don't Break My Heart

Another night out. Another lover added to the list. I had already made it to the international club. This time it didn't matter. The frustration of not having someone in my bed just to wake up to had led me to ask the direct question: "Would you like to spend the night with me in my flat, no sex, no kissing, just you sleeping in bed next to me. I need someone to spend the night with. I don't want to wake up alone tomorrow. Give it a try, won't you?"

It had worked. And I woke up to the sunlight at around 5 am. My head ached. I craved a cigarette. My flat was quiet. The Saturday morning light blinded my brown eyes. I never lowered the blinds because I was afraid my cats would destroy them. 

I felt something warm next to me. I didn't even bother to look at the person sleeping next to me. I had accomplished something I had been longing for too much. Yet I felt empty. I felt like a cheat. It felt wrong. I felt like if I had cheated destiny. It didn't feel right. I had coerced an unsuspecting someone into fulfilling a fantasy, a dark dream. I felt like a vampire. I felt dirty. Even if i had not done anything carnal. I felt like if I wanted to die. I had desired this for way too long. It felt wrong.

I stood up and moved quietly towards the kitchen. I was ready to brew coffee. The morning coffee. I hesitated. I was not ready nor willing to do it this time. It was a move I didn't feel right that morning. So I crept into the bathroom like a shadow escaping the light. 

I closed the door shut. I sighed. "If I Was Your Vampire" by Marilyn Manson started playing in my head.

"This is where it starts.

This is where it will end.

Here comes the moon again."

"This is not what I want my life to be all about", I thought while washing my face with ice-cold water. I took a look at the mirror and I saw the sad me reflected in my brown eyes. I saw the sadness. I saw myself. I didn't want this.

I must have stared at myself for way to long that by the time I left the bathroom, I was alone with my cats and  my face was sporting an empty smile.

17.02.2014

Immanuel Kant

The Devil Is In All Of You

My phone kept on ringing. I left it on the table. And took several hits of rum. The ice had already melted but my drink was nicely cold. The goddamn phone kept on ringing. Nobody ever bothered to call me and ask how I was or that shit. But tonight it was ringing. Somebody wanted to talk to me. And I didn't. 

I never considered myself to be a bad person, let alone rude or uncaring. Friends always told me that I should learn how to be assertive.  But I just didn't want to answer that phone call. I took another hit of Bacardi and washed it down with beer. I could feel the booze making its way into my system, slowly but surely. It felt good. 

I noticed that my phone had stopped ringing. I turned it off. My ipod was in my bag, on the chair next to mine. I reached inside my green Converse bag and grabbed it. I managed to untangle the headphone's cable and I put them on. I liked this place, Mandragora, a run-down rock pub with a broken PA system. The perfect place for me to get on with my writing.

I enjoyed being there. Cheap booze, darkness and pictures of rock bands no one had ever heard of before hung perfectly from the slimy walls. Decoration or just a vain attempt to cover up the filth of these walls, I thought. I liked slimy walls better, I smirked.

I had shared this place with only a few people. They never liked it. It stinks like piss, one said. The other two had a posh attitude towards everything and they rated this bar as a shit hole. I didn't care. I can be here by myself, I thought. I enjoyed being alone. With some drinks and my notebook. Alone was ok.

I began writing some lines. It was November 2010. I kept on drinking. Another beer?, the waiter asked me. And a shot of Absinth, I replied.

Soon the drinks were on the table, right next to my black leather notebook. I wrote and wrote. Cold Red Light by IAMX was playing. I felt the energy flow through my skin towards my fingertips. I was writing something that wasn't part of what I had intended to write. I had had some beers and I was shooting up absinth straight into my blood.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them I was heading towards the toilet. It stank of shit and cigarettes. But I didn't care. The doors of the toilet actually locked. Something unusual about toilets of places like this. I liked to be able to lock myself in the bathroom and do my business without having to care about being interrupted by drunk patrons of Mandragora.

I was there. I wiped clean the toilet seat. I unzipped my pants and pulled them down. I sat down. I wasn't sure if I wanted to shit or just to piss. It didn't matter. Marilyn Manson began to play.

"Hey, cruel world…You don’t have what it takes

We don’t need your faith.

We’ve got fucking fate."

I sat there looking at the walls of this one toilet I was at. There was nothing new to see. Stickers of Anti Fascism and graffiti. I checked to see if there was enough toilet paper. There was plenty. I was fine.   

"The center of the universe

Cannot exist

When there are no,

No edges"

Manson sang. And I listened. Then the middle eight of the song kicked in. I could hear some people outside. I could make out some banging. I could only think. Are they fighting?. Should I stay in here?. Should I call the police?. Fuck, I thought, I don't know what to do. I heard some screaming. The banging got louder and so did the song. I will stay here, I said to myself. There is no way I am going to open this door now. I paused the song. I removed my headphones. The shouting got quieter and quieter. And in an instant, it was quiet as a grave.

I waited. I pulled my pants up and tried to peek through one of the cracks the door bore as a signature of violence and of bravery. There was nobody outside. At least no one I could see. I thought of running away from that place. I thought of the fact that I still had to pay for what I had ingested. I thought of leaving the bathroom and being blamed for the raucous. Shit, I thought of being mauled by the ferocious men that instants ago had been fighting in this very place. 

I opened the door and the first thing I saw was a man lying on the floor. There was no blood. Only piss and paper towels everywhere. I left the toilet as quickly as I could. They Waiter was at my table replenishing my beer. I waved at him, and signal him to come with me. He did. 

He stopped right outside the toilet and right in front of me. What? he asked. There was a fight, I said, and a man is on the floor, I continued. He opened the door and went inside. I followed. He stooped down and put his hand on the man's neck. He went on, this man is deceased.

Hrms Etc

8.1.13

 

The Almighty Toilet

I was on a bus heading north. There was enough light for people to mistake this time of the year for Spring. Yet the trees were dormant. There was frost all over their thick barks. Their leaves lay on the ground as if they had wanted it this way. The bus moved across the city and in 5 stops I was out of this grand mess called Brno. It all seemed happy as Clone by Metric played on my head.

The sky was red fading into blue and the people were slowly going to work.

"It's too late in the day,Too late in the day to turn it around or change my mind

It's too late in the day to take you on all the rides

It's too late in the day to tell me I'm off the path

We're already in the aftermath"

I sang to myself.

It was the 5th. stop and I had to get off. I looked at my phone in order to see the time and see if I could at least light up a cigarette to help me with the wait. Indeed, I had 6 minutes to kill a camel. Kill it   for the sake of the waiting. So I did. 

I saw a girl running from afar. And my next bus was up to pick me up. Bus number 1. I got on and then I was off again. I turned around and I saw the smoke of the cigarette butt that I forgot to put out making the most delightful plumes of white. 

Then the flushing sound of the toilet behind me brought me back to reality. I had finished long ago, but for some reason I just stood there, thinking of something I would never write. Thinking of something that seemed too beautiful to be true. I zipped up. Washed my hands. And there I was again. In my office, full of people I would never like. I just couldn't wait for the next time I had time to escape my white-collar endeavor.

Immanuel Kant

3.1.13

Yucatan Is Not Always In Mexico

Rock music buzzed in my ears. The table I was at, was filthy and full of semi empty shot glasses of various spirits. Ash and empty packs of cigarettes decorated the flat surface of the cheap table of this bar called Yucatan. I had had many beers and shots of tequila, vodka and sometimes my own spit, in a vain attempt to keep my insides in.

Little Sister was on the loud speakers. The beat of the song made me bang my head to its rhythm in a somewhat slow motion kinda way. I needed to piss. I knew the lyrics to Little Sister as I knew what our ritualistic night would be all about, beer, tequila shots, both silver and gold, vodka chasers and beer all over again. Packs of cigarettes would disappear after the first round of cold golden non-filtered ale.

I stood up and bumped away the people sitting next to me. A loud bang followed by broken glass and cold beer splashing the floors and my shoes.This made me rush towards the urinals of this god forsaken pub. I had to piss now.

I stepped in the men's room and with my right hand tried to look for the light switch. Once I'd found it a buzzing sound came up and then a white light showed me the way. I unzipped and took my cock out. I was trying so hard to concentrate. I heard another song being played outside on the jukebox. It was another song by the Queens of the Stone Age. I could tell. I had all the albums on my ipod.

There were three urinals and I chose to piss in the last one as I never liked to use the one in the middle. The idea of having two other dudes pissing next to me was somewhat weird. I was still trying to gather the strength to get rid of the unnecessary urine in my bladder. I was trying so hard it hurt.

Then I saw this number written on the adjacent wall. It was a phone number and under it it read: "call me if you want me to blow you". What the hell, I thought, who would actually call this number. What if I call to see who is on the other side?. Fuck. Why was I even thinking of calling this number?. What if it was only a prank played to some dude and he didn't even know his phone had been advertised with such a service. It had to be a prank, there was no price listed. Who would do that for free?, especially to anyone pissing at this place?

I began to piss. What a relief. It was wonderful to finally be able to get rid of this. This place stank, but my piss was in great amount a mix of tequila, vodka and beer. I need to buy food for tomorrow. It's New Year's Eve and everything will be closed. Fuck, I need more cigarettes and maybe I will drink one more beer.

A slow song began to play. I zipped up and moved to the sink. I washed my hands and dried them on the back of my black sweatshirt. I was back at the table with my friends and the drinks were plenty.

Hrms Etc

31.12.12