A TREATISE ON PISSING

As I have grown older pissing has become a major focus in my life.   When I was young I could drink a six pack of beer then go out into the parking lot and piss over the hood of my truck – I could hold my pee and when I did pee I had the pressure of a fire hose. 

Now I pee about every two to three hours – this includes during the night.   I get up an average of two to three times during the night and go downstairs to pee, then go back to bed - and when I do pee it dribbles like a leaking faucet.   When I go to the movies I piss before I go into the theater and hope to make it through the movie without having to go pee. 

Recently Murrmurrs did a post where she told of her husband pissing in the back yard. 

 I have been an outdoor pisser most of my life.   As a young man I spent much of my time hunting, fishing, camping and pissing outdoors.   I was a Navy winter bush survival instructor and for years pissing in the woods was more the norm then an exception.  

I piss in the back yard regularly when I am mowing the grass, snow blowing, working on outdoor projects or stacking firewood.  Most nights, regardless of the weather – wind, rain, sleet or snow - I go outside, look up at the sky or into the dark woods, and piss before going to bed. 

Pissing is more than a bodily function for males.   Boys and men have it down to an art form, but women don’t have the same relationship with pissing that we have.   Pissing can be fun.  Little boys (and some men) will write their names in the snow. Boys like playing with their dick so when they take it out to piss there is a natural tendency to wave it around.   Women don’t seem to have the same pleasures pissing.

My wife and I taught school in an Indian village about one hundred and fifty miles north of Fairbanks.   We would come out of the village about four times a year - during holidays and for groceries and supplies. The village was connected to the road system so we could drive into the village.   We would travel about seventy five miles up the ‘Haul Road’ (the road to Prudhoe Bay)

 and then swing off on a one lane dirt road for the last seventy five miles into the village.  

The trip would take us anywhere from three hours in the summer to five hours in the winter.   We would gas up our truck (two twenty five gallon tanks) before leaving Fairbanks – grab sandwiches and drinks and roll out. 

 

Especially on the long arduous winter drives we would need to stop and piss about half way on the trip.   There was a gravel site shortly after leaving the Haul Road where we would stop.   

At thirty-five to forty degrees below zero with a wind blowing my wife could not drop her pants and squat to pee, so we bought her a ‘pee cup’ designed for women to be able to pee while standing up.   

My wife never really mastered the standing up and peeing – she had to learn things that little boys discover early: like you can’t pee into the wind.  It beat a frostbitten bottom, but it was always a challenge for her.   I, on the other hand, would put the wind to my back and let it rip – writing my name in the snow.  

The weather tonight is zero and it is starting to snow.   I stepped outside about an hour ago to pee.   The night is dark and the sky is overcast so I watched the blurred lights of nearby houses and was hyper-conscious of the snowflakes falling around me.   I could hear movement in the wood – possibly a deer or maybe just a rabbit.  It was invigorating and gave me a feeling of closeness to nature and my small place on this earth.  

I would like to continue on with this; but I have to pee, so I’ll say good night.

the Ol’Buzzard