Pete

It had been a good night, the guys in the house had spent it chilling in the lounge, drinking loads of beer until the early hours. One by one they had wandered, or staggered, off to bed, leaving me sat with a full bladder and a nearly empty can of beer, deep in thought. My main thought was “Where was young Pete” he loved beer and bodily functions as much as I did, but he’d not been around all evening. I’d texted him and he kept replying “c u l8r” but I was almost ready for bed. I’d got a semi, a full bladder, and a rubber sheet on my bed.

There was a scratching noise at the front door, as though someone was trying to insert a key. My heart leapt, the missing man was back. At the third attempt the key was inserted and the door swung open. Pete appeared to be pulled in by the key, he was, what’s the right term?… Shitfaced. He grinned at me and walked over to my armchair, he stood with his feet well apart, rocking gently.

“I have had eight pints tonight” he said proudly. At 5 feet 4 and skinny it was quite an achievement.

“Got room for some more?” I asked, offering him my can.

He tipped it right back and drained it, the action caused him to take a step back with one foot to keep his balance. As he lowered the can he stepped forward again, over did it and bumped into the arm of the chair I was sat on. I steadied him with my hand on his hip.

“You touching me up ‘cos I’m pissed?” He knew I fancied him, called himself bi, and we had some fun together when he was drunk enough and in the mood. When he had discovered I was into piss he seemed to change his drinking habits to make sure he either drank lager or cider, or took loads of water with his spirits. Telling me he had 8 pints was a pretty clear signal he was up for some play.

“I’m stopping you falling over”

“I’m alright. We need some more beer”. He turned and tottered off to the kitchen, only bouncing off one doorpost on the way. He came back with two cans of beer and stood in front of me again, as soon as I took one of the cans from him, the hand that had been holding it went for his crotch. He gave it a good long rub and squeeze. “Fuck I need a piss”. But he didn’t make a move, just stared at me waiting for me to say something. I got up slowly from my chair, put my hands on his shoulders and steered him back towards the kitchen. “Where are we going?” “Somewhere with no carpets”. I pulled out one of the kitchen chairs, sat him next to the table opened his can of beer and held it for him to take. Drink it, then you can piss. He thought for a moment before replying. “Is everyone else in bed?” “Yep”. He took a large swig of beer, put the can down and smiled. His hand ran down to his crotch again and he checked it out carefully. “I think I’ve dribbled a bit”. “Well rub it dry”. He thought about that and said “You can do it for me.” So I reached down and ran my fingertips up the inside of his thigh and under his ballsack, everything was dry. I tugged down his zip to reveal tight fitting white trunks. Sure enough the front of his pants had a damp spot which I explored with my thumb. As I did he released another squirt of piss. He looked down, smiling, at my hand rubbing the wet front of his underpants. “You’re meant to drink your beer before you piss”. “That doesn’t count, my jeans are still dry”. His dick was also responding to the touch of my fingertips, so I thought I’d give it a break for a bit. “Stand up”, he did, I pushed his dick flat to one side in his pants, which made another damp spot, it was slimy to the touch, pre-cum as well as piss, lovely. It was enough for my own cockhead to emerge fully from my uncut foreskin, rubbing the sensitive helmet against the fabric of my knickers. I gently zipped up his flies, and turned away from him to take a huge swig from my own can of beer. While Pete seemed to have his bladder under control, mine was starting to twitch. I can’t piss properly with a full on boner, and I really wanted him to lose it before I did, but I had to do something about my pain. I caught him looking at me and realised speaking would distract him. “Where you’ve been all night?” I asked as I released a squirt of piss from my aching bladder. “Trying to get the barmaid at the Crown to take me seriously.” I smiled, she was really good looking, older and taller than Pete, and she teased him all the time, playing him like a fish. That was perfect, he had probably been horny all evening, which would explain the pre-cum and the up for it arrival at home.
“So your semi is for her, not for me?
“She’s not here is she?”
“So you can bugger off to bed and knock one out thinking about her.”
“Where’s the fun in wanking alone?”

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