“I saw you,” the man said.

He was a short Asian man in his late 50’s, early 60’s, standing at my door wearing a white t-shirt and green shorts.

“I’m sorry?” I said.

“I saw you ... Saw you peeing.”

I paused, trying to figure out how I should respond.

Unfortunately, I knew what he was referring to.

You see, like a lot of people, when I drink, I don’t make good decisions. I also get hare-brained ideas that are, ultimately, pretty stupid.

See, I have a stepson who hates me. I’m not being dramatic. He hates me. He has threatened me with violence and done stupid stuff like let the air out of my tires. All four of them.

I can’t kick him out because my wife has made it clear that he wouldn’t be the one moving out.

If you haven’t guessed, my stepson has problems. Mental health issues. Major. My wife loves him unconditionally, even when he does stupid stuff.

Normally, she’s fantastic. But when it comes to the relationship between him and me, she chooses him.

So I’m stuck.

I started drinking and that has led me down silly paths that I shouldn’t have gone down. Last night, for example, I went into the backyard, and ... pissed on my stepson’s workbench. I had been drinking a lot, so there was a lot to offer.

It was like 1 A.M., so I didn’t think anyone would be watching.

I guess I was wrong.

The Asian man smiled. “Maybe we could ... come to an arrangement,” he said.

I waited a few moments before saying “What kind of arrangement?”

His smile grew wider. “I like peeing.”

So, it was a form of blackmail. He would tell my stepson I pissed on his workbench if I would go over to his house and...

I guess I’ll find out.

Fortunately, no one else was home, so I grabbed my keys, locked up and followed the funny little man to his house — which, not surprisingly, was immediately behind mine.

“What I want,” the man said, “is for you to pee on me.”

“Okay,” I said. “I don’t really need to at the moment.”

He smiled politely. “Would you like a beer?”

This next part was weird, but not exactly unexpected.

He took off his clothes, and asked me to do the same.

It was a warm day, so ... Okay.

I got undressed and stood there a bit awkwardly, naked, holding a bottle of beer.

“Follow me,” he said, and I followed his naked ass into the kitchen and out into what I thought was the backyard.

It was a covered walkway with a wall on one side and the house on the other, meaning we were technically outside, but not visible to the neighbors. The entire backyard was covered with this netting that kept prying eyes away.

He led me around to what looked like a shed.

And, technically, it was a shed, only he had no tools or equipment or lumber or anything. There were a couple of patio chairs, a TV, a table, and a small refrigerator.

“Make yourself comfortable,” he said, taking a sip of his own beer.

I sat in a patio chair, bare-ass naked. I pulled my balls out so they hung over the edge.

My host noticed me do that, and stared at my sack.

“You have very big balls,” he said.

I nodded. “Thank you.”

Frankly, I don’t know if they’re big or not. I do not go around comparing the size of my scrotum to other men’s. I could definitively say that from what I saw of my host, my bag was bigger. As was my dick, but not by a lot. They were, I would say, on the smaller average side.

The TV came on, and a football game appeared.

I drank my beer, hoping my kidneys would quickly do their job so I could pee on the guy and get back home.

“Have you ever peed on a man before?” my host asked.

“No.”

“Not even in a fantasy?”

“Not really. One time I accidentally clicked on some porn that had people peeing on each other, but that was it.”

I didn’t bother to mention that I found it a little disgusting, but what do I know?

I finished my beer, and he fetched me another from the mini-fridge.

I figured if I’m going to piss on some guy, I might as well be half-drunk doing it.

Of course, drinking is what go me in this situation in the first place.

My host was lazily rubbing his dick. I realized he was uncircumcised and could easily roll his foreskin back and forth over the head of his cock — which had grown fairly long. It looked quite thin. What do they call that? Pencil dick?

I kept drinking my beer, finishing off the second. He got me a third, and as he handed it over to me, he gestured toward my genitals.

“May I?” he asked.

I paused a moment wondering what he meant. “Sure,” I said.

He bent over a little, reached down and fondled my balls.

“Ooohhh, they’re heavy too,” he said.

Then he tugged a little on my soft cock.

“Can you piss when erect?” he asked.

“I don’t think so. I honestly just wait until it goes away.”

“Ah,” he said, still rubbing my dick.

I watched him do it, and thought it kind of felt good, but dick rubbing always felt good.

Then he stood up, his long, thin pencil dick pointing right at me.

“You have had your penis sucked by a man?” he asked.

“No, I have not.”

“Have you ever touched the penis of a man?”

“No, not that either.”

His stiff erection wobbled at me, his pair of nuts wiggling a little.

I chugged on my beer.

I know he wanted me to touch his boner, but I didn’t want to.

Other than the time I went to the doctor for an infected testicle, I’ve never had a man touch my stuff.

I sat back and drank more of the beer while he returned to his chair.

“Do you like porn?”

“Yeah, but I’m really vanilla. I just like watching men and women fuck.”