From: jerryw@nyc.pipeline.com (Arthur Jerome Weiss)
Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.watersports
Subject: GOLDEN SHOWER COP
Date: 30 Oct 1995 23:22:52 -0500
Organization: The Pipeline
Lines: 14
Message-ID: <4748as$mom@pipe1.nyc.pipeline.com>
NNTP-Posting-Host: pipe1.nyc.pipeline.com

I awoke and realized  a  huge cock  was  in my mouth.  It was taking a
relentless piss down my  19 year old throat.  It was swallow or drown.  I
started gulping down the gushing, salty stream, and looked up to see the
source of this sudden assault and realized it was the big Italian cop that
had arrested me for hustling the corner of 53rd and 3rd the night before. 
I was in a jail cell in the 51st Precinct, it was the middle of the sultry
summer night, and my  sweat-covered left arm was handcuffed to the bars. 
"Drink piss, you fuckin' faggot whore!" he barked at me when he saw I was
awake, and slapped me -  hard enough for me to see stars -- across my face.
 "I told the whole night shift about you, kid ... tonight, baby, you're our
toilet." 
 
Who wants to write the next paragraph? 
 

Being the continued adventures of a 19 year old male hustler arrested for
trying to peddle his peter on the streets of New York who finds himself
handcuffed to the bars of a cell and being used as a toilet by, at this
point, a pair of cops... 
 
NOTICE:  This is a work of  fiction by an adult for other adults who are
into urolagnia (pissing and piss, for those of you without your Ph.D's.) 
If you are a juvenile under legal age in your particular jurisdiction,
please do not read any further.  You have no rights as sexual beings.  Your
parents suffered amnesia about their own childhoods when you were born, and
honestly are under the delusion that your minds -- and other places --  are
as empty and pure as a calla lily.  That this hypocritical insanity is one
of the causes of endless neuroses, psychoses and violence can be overlooked
as long as they can comfort themselves with fairy tales.   
 
Well enough babble.  On with the show.  And by the way, all you pedophile
hunters out there, don't come knockin on my front door, I dig older men,
always have, and can prove it. 
 
****************        ***************     ******************   
***************** 
 
This second cop, who was now pissing into my mouth and accenting it with
wads of spit, was a big Irish freckled redhead with a dick that was almost
chalk white, except where it was flaming crimson (such as its extremely
wide head).  "Hey, Rocky!" he says to the Italian cop, "looks like we got
ourselves a live one!  Look!  He loves it; his dick is standing straight
up!"  And it was true -- I had a boner that might as well have been made of
steel.  Whatever was happening was zinging my libido.  The Irish cop starts
pissing on my dick and mick-turating all over my balls.  "Spread your legs
and scoot down, kid," he sneers at me, "I wanna take a leak on your
asshole!"  I'm in no position not to obey, and  as he's pissing on my tight
little hole he turns to Rocky and mutters to him in a low, lewd growl: 
"Lookit that pussy!!  You need a microscope to find his slit!  I do believe
we've got ourselves a virgin." 
 
And it was true.  My hustling career had been strictly as a top, with the
johns paying big bucks for my big ten inch (and it wasn't a 78 of your
favorite blues either).  They liked me to dress like a hood, with a torn
tee-shirt and a leather jacket and boots like the young Marlon Brando.  
They'd go down on me on their knees while I stood over them with a fucking
cigarette dangling from my lips (these guys liked a full dress production,
man), the ashes dropping on their face.  Some guys wanted me to hit them
while I fucked their mouths, and I was glad to oblige both because I got
off on it and because for every rap on the chin I found another bill being
stuffed into my pocket.   
 
Piss was extra.  It didn't take me long to figure out that piss freaks were
so hot for their favorite drink that they'd pay through the nose for it.  I
couldn't believe I was making my living taking a leak!  One guy was this
big-time TV executive and his thing was he'd arrange with me to show up in
Central Park in the dark where he'd be sitting on a bench still dressed in
a tuxedo from some function or the other,  he'd hand me a $50 bill and I'd
whizz all over his black silk tie and everything.  If I'd remembered to
drink a lot of beer and not go for several hours  and had a strong stream
that lasted and lasted and lasted he'd go apeshit and start wonking his
wang and handing me more cash.   
 
And the Irish cop was right.  I drew the line, and the line was my butt was
not for sale.  This citidel of my manhood was unexplored territory  and I
intended to keep it that way.  Something about the way this paddy patrolman
was smirking as the last few drops from his dangling prick finished
lubricating my pucker told me that after tonight, my boy-cunt would no
longer be second-cousin to a maraschino. 
 
to be continued.... 
 
******Attention porno publishers!  This is  free doodling for the amusement
of my fellow GS freaks.  My BEST stuff, like that of my hero, is FOR SALE. 
Keep those contracts coming...