That time my waters broke when I wasn't even pregnant

Whoever coined the term “squirt”, was being lazy. It should be called "when someone hits the on switch on the fountain you didn't even know was installed in your vagina". Mmm, bit wordy. At the very least let's call it "gush".

One cold, Melbourne Tuesday night I hijacked my sister's friends farewell dinner. Her fabulous model friend was moving to New York and I wanted some of that fabulousness to rub off on me.

As they all chatted away I ducked to the loo and joined the queue for the uni-sex bathroom (modern!) behind this sexy stranger casually leaning against the wall. He nodded at me and I replied with the coolest "hey" I could muster (for someone who is the antithesis of cool, that's a lot of work). Was everyone in Melbourne a model??

The model currently occupying the bathroom came out and in he went. Upon exiting the bathroom he asked me what I was doing later. I was well into my post eight year relationship “experimental phase” so I figure he could smell the sex on me cos it sure-as-shit wasn’t my dirty hair and chipmunk-print jumper. I suppressed my 13-year-old girl giggle and shock that people don't just go home after dinner on a weeknight, mustered up all the cool I had and replied, “Nothing.”

The hot, Nick Kyrios-looking man asked for my phone, put his number in and told me to text him my address as he walked away. The Stranger Danger Alarm that should’ve gone off loudly in my head didn't so I text him my address, made my excuses to leave dinner and headed home for a Whore's Bath.

He replied that he'd be at mine at 9pm. I'm not sure what came over me, but I think because I'd actually managed to pick up someone without using my winning personality, I momentarily grew a pair of very big, very sexy balls. I got creative (also as a clever way not to reveal my apartment number) and text him just before 8.30pm:

When you get here, text me then turn to face the road

When you hear the door open, close your eyes

You’ll feel me take your hands and put them on me

I’ll guide you through two doors and into a lift

When we get to my apartment, I’m going to take you to my bedroom, I’m going to undress you and do whatever I want to you

You cannot open your eyes until I kiss you on the mouth

You can speak to me, but I will not make a sound until we’re done

Right?!

At 9.02pm I got the message. I was feeling good. In control. The plan went perfectly. I came out the front door, he was facing the road, I secured his hands to my waist as we weaved our way to the lift, I pressed the up button and as the lift doors opened, my heart leapt into my throat. There was someone in the lift. *gulp*

My possible murderer stayed true to instruction and kept his eyes closed and his head down. I couldn’t tell him there was someone in the lift and to act normal, so I just guided him in and mouthed to the inconvenient lift-dwelling woman, “Drunk.” It seemed to work. We got out on my floor and we were back!

As promised, I took him into the bedroom, undressed him – the body! –, undressed myself down to my visitor-friendly underwear and for the next 30 minutes massaged him, sucked him and kissed him everywhere but the mouth. All with his eyes closed and me not saying a word. It was hot. I was in control and loving it.

He must've been enjoying himself a lot because at one point, he let out a big groan, grabbed me, flipped me on my back and kissed me full on the mouth. He finally got to open his eyes and he took a moment to take me all in, before he started to return the favour. Yes, thanks!

Imagine getting PHENOMENAL head and not being able to scream out in pleasure. Now, add incredibly skilled fingers to the mix. Now add two more. He pleasure-tortured me for what seemed like days. He kept me in this state of heightened pleasured courtesy of his very skilled fingers to the point where I exploded. Literally. There was fluid everywhere. All over him, all over me, my bed was drenched and I'm pretty sure I heard a splat sound on the wall behind him. I thought my non-existant waters had broken.

All feelings of pleasure were swiftly replaced by feelings of horror. I’d pissed all over him. My only saving grace was that maybe he was into that?

I looked over to him, embarrassed and suspiciously thirsty, and uttered my first words to him, “I’m so sorry.”- not the sexy, "Hey, Stranger" I'd had in mind. To my surprise, he had a big grin on his face and replied, “Don’t be sorry, I loved it.” Ah. He was the pee-loving kind of model. I'm not fettish-shaming, just admitting pissing ain't a turn on for me and yes, I can knock it because I have tried it.

He continued, “Is that the first time you’ve squirted?” I didn’t even know we could squirt! I'd once been told by an ignorant, sex-crazed colleague who flashed me on multiple occassions in the office that porno directors forced the girls to put filled water balloons up themselves to pop for the effect. Apparently not. Gushing (nee Squirting) was a thing and I was now in the club. Where does all that fluid even come from?!

The Adonis informed me that now that I'd done it once, it would always happen. Christ. I'd need to invest in a lot more towels. Or a tarp even. (Anyone tried a Splash Blanket? Thoughts?) Kyrios proved it a couple more times that night, including just before he was about to leave when he sat fully-clothed, cross-legged on the living room floor and insisted I squat over him. I clasped my hands behind his neck as he pinned my knees to his hips with his forearm. He went exploring and discovered a complete drenching. His arms, pants and shoes were completely soaked and he couldn't have been more pleased.

It was about 11pm when he left, however I didn’t get to bed until after 2am as I had to shower, clean the carpet and wash and dry all of my bedding. *sigh* We saw each other a few more times but I eventually had to pretend I'd "met someone" as there started to be too much conversation (and far too much washing) and he was one of the dullest people I'd ever met. Shame.

To my first ever boyfriend: remember that time we thought I'd peed on you and we laughed about it for years after? Turns out I'm a gusher! Who knew?! Also, congrats on being my first in more than one way. xo