Chapter 2: The Rain in the Forbidden City

After my marathon of international flavors, I was left with a different kind of thirst. The blowjobs had whet my appetite, but now I wanted something more crude, more humiliating, something that would push me to the limit of fear and pleasure. On the apps, I started filtering by "watersports", "piss play", "golden shower". The taboo got me hard just reading it: being peed on, in the mouth, like a human toilet. It was the natural next step after swallowing semen from half the world; I wanted to be marked in another way, more visceral. I found Sergio: 40 years old, profile with a photo of a hairy torso and a direct description: "Experienced master seeking submissive for real golden shower. Public places. No excuses". We chatted for two days: clear limits (no marks, "red" as a safe word, condom if we fucked), but he wanted risk. "Diagonal Mar shopping center bathroom, Saturday afternoon. Large handicapped cubicle. Enter, kneel, and wait".

On Saturday, I arrived at the shopping center with my stomach in knots. It was peak noon: families shopping, kids screaming, ambient music through the speakers. The bathroom on the ground floor was always crowded – perfect for anonymity, but terrifying for fear. I entered, looked around: several guys urinating at the urinals, one washing his hands. Sergio was already inside the large cubicle, door ajar as agreed. I pushed, closed with a latch, and there he was: sitting on the toilet, pants down, semi-hard cock in his hand, looking at me with that predator's smile.

—Kneel, bitch. Quickly.

I took off my backpack, knelt on the cold, dirty floor of the bathroom. The space was large, but you could hear everything: doors opening, toilets flushing, conversations outside. Someone coughed right next to me. My heart was racing.

Sergio stood up, grabbed my neck, and put his cock in my face. First, he put it in my mouth for a while, to warm me up: hard, salty, with the smell of a man who had been outside all day. I deepthroated it, drool falling, while he moaned softly.

—Good whore... now open wide.

He pulled out, aimed at my face, and started. The first stream was hot, strong, directly on my forehead. It soaked my hair, ran down my cheeks. I opened my mouth as he had ordered, and the next one was inside: salty, light, almost sweet because he told me he had eaten fruit all morning – pineapple and melon. I swallowed what I could, the rest dripping down my chin and neck, soaking my t-shirt. The smell spread quickly in the closed cubicle: fresh urine, strong.

Outside, the bathroom didn't stop: footsteps, a zipper, someone talking on the phone: "Yes, I'm in the bathroom, give me five minutes". Every noise made me tremble. What if someone needed the large cubicle? What if they called security because it smelled weird? The fear paralyzed me, but my cock was hard as a rock, dripping in my boxers. That was the thrill: being on my knees in a public place, converted ...