A young woman, her face bright with anticipation, weaves through the bustling throng of a city center – at a pisscorner. The air is thick with the sounds of traffic, distant sirens, and the murmur of a thousand conversations. She spots him leaning against the cold marble of a fountain, a familiar figure in the chaotic landscape. Their eyes meet, and a silent, shared understanding passes between them.
He leads her to a narrow, shadowed alley between two imposing buildings, the city’s noise muffled to a distant hum. Without a word, she sinks to her knees on the grimy pavement, her gaze turned upward. He unzips his pants, and a stream of hot urine arcs through the air, landing directly into her open, waiting mouth. She accepts it, her expression unreadable in the dim light.
The moment it’s over, she springs to her feet. A sudden, wild energy takes hold of her. She turns and sprints out of the alley, a blur of motion disappearing back into the anonymous crowd, leaving him alone in the quiet aftermath.
+ + + pisscouple at the pisscorner + + +