Tag Archives: piss

Guest sex story: “I want to taste my arse on your cock”

This week’s guest blogger, Jane, got in touch with me a long time ago in response to a sex story I wrote about a hot, giggling lady who once gave me an enema. She asked if I could write more on messy sex, and it was a bit tricky. While I enjoy the occasional bit of piss-play, in terms of extreme mess, I’m definitely not the right person to talk about it, and anyone who’s genuinely into it would no doubt write me off as an amateur.

Still, the excellent thing about having a blog is that even if something doesn’t fall within my own kinky desires, there’s usually someone who is totally happy to share why it’s hot for them. So Jane kindly offered to write a guest blog of her own.

This extremely dirty sex story comes with a big, bold, neon sign that says ‘Not Safe For Work’, and – because I am essentially a big old worrier – it also comes with a link to this advice guide on ass play health risks, if you do fancy getting messy like Jane.

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Messy sex, splosh and a dirty thing I never got to do

All hail people with cool fetishes. Splosh fans: I’m talking to you.

In case you’re not aware of the utter and delicious beauty of splosh, it’s essentially a fetish that involves getting extremely messy in gunge, custard, cream cake, and anything that takes your fancy.

Smearing it all over yourself, sitting in it, pouring thick gloopy liquid over your face and neck, and generally making the kind of mess you haven’t been allowed to make since you were two years old and smearing banana all over your high chair.

Amazing.

YKINMK but fuck me splosh is sexy

I have a mental list of fetishes which I’ve never partaken in, yet which I find deeply hot and really want to have a good go at. Splosh is one of them. Pony play is another. Furries…? Maybe not for me, but I’d love to watch someone who was really into it have a satisfying wank through a blue fuzzy costume.

Splosh is top of my list though, because not only does it often involve custard (second only to rice pudding as one of my favourite things) it also has an awesome air of genuinely gleeful play. When I ‘play’ it’s usually pretty dark: serious, straight-faced stuff where guys will stand sternly over me and I’ll pretend to cower as they whip me with belts and tell me I’m dirty and wrong.

Splosh, on the other hand, feels genuinely ‘playful’. Like, the actual point is that things just feel good, and damn whether you’re presenting yourself properly or maintaining the proper straight face: your face is probably an inch thick with cream anyway, so no one will notice. What’s more, it has overtones of the kind of messy sex that I rarely get to indulge in but that makes me properly happy.

I like sex where I get fucked up. Hair messed up, clothes stretched or ripped, eyes red from watering and jizz dipping from whatever bits of my body are available to squirt on at the time. Messed. Up. I like kneeling in the mud to give stealthy outdoor blowjobs, drooling spit down my chin and the front of my clothes after a throatfuck.

So when I met a guy who was into messy sex, I wanted to do something awesome.

Messy sex

“If you’re on your way over, drink some water,” I told him. “One hour before, then again half an hour before. Get really desperate.”

This dude was into mess, and the idea of getting to cover me with piss pushed a fair few of his buttons. He turned up at my door horny and bursting, so I led him into the bathroom.

“Kneel down,” he told me, between slightly bitey kisses. I stripped to my underwear and did. Staring up at him with a grin I couldn’t suppress. Maybe he wanted me to look more nervous.

“Are you ready?”

“Of course.”

I waited. Then a bit more. Then more. He held his stiff cock in one hand and a bottle of water in the other, and with my tits out and a weird grin plastered across my face, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of a dick.

“It’s hard to piss with a boner,” he told me, unnecessarily.

We fucked instead.

But because we’d failed so hard at the messy-fucking-while-covered-in-piss plan, I wanted to do something a bit cool for him at a later date. He loved messy things, and wanted to watch me get covered in something – piss, mud, custard, it didn’t really matter. The key thing was that he’d watch me as I tore my clothes, poured gunk all over myself, and touched myself until I was smeared and covered with slime.

Sweat, spunk and custard

Initially I thought a paddling pool might be a good purchase. But apart from the fact that I have no rooms big enough to accommodate even a small one, I think I’d end up worrying about splashing stuff outside the pool and ending up spending half the day after shampooing the carpet. The only option: a wet room. I looked online for hotels nearby that had proper wet-room bathrooms. I wanted to make a proper fucking state of things and be able to hose it all down with the shower head so the cleaning staff wouldn’t know, or hate me.

I found one or two, and began saving my money. For the room as well as a whole crate of Ambrosia custard – the stuff that comes in cardboard cartons and pours all thick and gloopy. I knew exactly what this guy wanted: he wanted to touch himself while he watched me, in knickers and a tiny top, pour custard from the cartons onto my face, my neck, my tits. He wanted to watch me writhe on the bathroom floor and squish around in it, getting sticky mess all over my body, and slipping in the splodgy stuff.

Watching from nearby, he’d sit touching himself, getting harder as I got dirtier. Pulling his dick out of his trousers as I opened the first carton, and gripping tighter as I poured. Frantically rubbing at himself as he watched the mess slip down my skin, and tangle up in my hair. As I sat in puddles of it and felt it squish between my thighs and in my crotch.

When I was good and sticky he’d stride across the bathroom, barking orders that I shouldn’t touch him: I was far too filthy.

‘Put your hands behind your back,’ he’d tell me, as he pushed his cock into my mouth. He’d grab my mess-streaked hair with one hand, keeping the other hand far away from the dirty creature he was holding, and face-fuck himself to completion, pulling out at just the right moment. Squirting come onto custard, then rubbing it in with the one hand he was willing to get dirty.

Then he’d push me back onto the floor, where I could lie satisfied, feeling humiliated, degraded, sticky and spent. Licking my fingers and squeezing my legs together, and running my hands through a mixture of sweat, spunk and custard.

If you’re wondering why this story is peppered with ‘would haves’, it’s because the guy dumped me before it happened. I still haven’t fulfilled this fantasy, and I often think of it with one hand down my knickers, and a sense of overwhelming regret. Still, it’s hard to get really sad about a break-up when you’re surrounded by delicious cartons of leftover custard.

Someone else’s story: Highly personalised erotica

One of the best things about knowing someone well is that you understand their intimate fantasies. The things they tell you that they’ve never told anyone else. “I want someone to do this,” uttered with a slight nervousness and possibly a blush. I love being close enough to a guy that, when a particular scene appears on TV (police bundling their latest arrest into the back of a van, for instance) he can nudge me, whisper things in my ear, and know that it has pushed the exact buttons of one of my darkest fantasies.

This week’s guest blog comes from a couple, but with a bit of a twist. He has written a story tailored perfectly to her tastes. Something he has crafted based on all the things he knows she loves, and fantasises about. When he sent it through to me I wondered if he had accidentally wandered into my own head. Before we begin, I’m going to tell you that this story is quite extreme. It involves pain, group sex, and some utterly filthy stuff. Some of us like that, some of us don’t, so if you might be triggered by it please don’t read.

If, however, you like the idea of writing porn that is specifically tailored to one person, feel free to take up the challenge he’s laid down: can you write something for someone you know that is so perfectly tailored to the things they like that they can’t help but be aroused? Here’s his contribution…

Someone else’s story: highly personalised erotica

She’s alone in the room. She can hear their voices, muffled by the walls. They blend into one another, and all she’s left with is noise and anticipation. She tries to count them; to figure out how many there are, but she keeps losing track. She’s lying on the bed, eyes blindfolded, skin prickled. Her body scarcely covered by a red thong and bra. She’s breathing heavily. Her heart pounding in her chest.

Any minute now.

She tries to catch glimpses of the room, but her movement is limited. He told her to lie there on her stomach and wait. So, that’s what she’s doing. He told her not to move, so she doesn’t move.

She hears laughter from the outside. She doesn’t know how this will go. She doesn’t know whether she’ll like it or hate every second; but this is what she wanted. She asked for it, and now he’s giving it to her. She’s terrified, but the slickness between her thighs betrays her excitement.

The room is bare. The bed, covered in a simple plastic sheet, lies in the middle of the room, leaving space for movement around its four sides. There is a tarp on the floor. The light overhead is stark and bright. There are no candles or soft shadows here. There is nothing romantic about this. This is functional.

She hears the door click open, and the sound pours in from the rooms beyond. She hears men speaking, but doesn’t recognise their voices. They’re joking and laughing, and she can hear the pauses when they take sips from their drinks. She hears the tarp crinkling beneath their feet as they approach her. She’s not sure how many are in the room. She counts three, maybe four voices, but there are more outside.

She wants to ask who they are, but that would be against the rules. “Speak only when you’re spoken to.” That was what he’d told her earlier. Speaking now would defeat the purpose of the whole exercise.

The men keep chatting. They’re casual, as though there’s nothing unusual about this. None seem to notice, or acknowledge her. She’s invisible. Suddenly she feels a hand grab her ass. She breathes in quickly, and holds it. The gesture is somewhere between hard and rough. He pinches her ass cheek, and pulls it to one side. Another touches her on the stomach, sliding fingers across her skin. They’re sampling her; talking among themselves the whole time. The hand on her ass moves down between her thighs towards the slickness. Her breaths are shallow and fast. The men keep chatting, but she hears them spreading out now. There is at least one man by her head, and one to her side, and one, maybe two, by her feet. The hand between her thighs moves toward her cunt. He pushes the panties to one side, and she feels a finger push into her. Separating her. Opening her up. She gasps and pushes her face down into the mattress. His fingers move in and out quickly, her cunt increasingly drenched. She’s about to come, when she hears a zipper being undone somewhere close to her head, and a hand grabs the back of her hair, and pulls her head up. His cock is already hard when he pushes it into her mouth. She wraps her lips around it, and moves her tongue along the lower side.

“Suck it.” His hand is holding the back of her head, but it does nothing. He’s given her an order, and she follows it. She moves her head forward and backwards, faster and faster.

“Use your hands.” She reaches up and wraps her palm around the base of his cock, and starts moving in the opposite direction to her mouth. She twists her palm with every movement. She hears him breathing deeper, harder now.

A finger runs up from the small of her back to the nape of her neck. Her skin prickles, and she struggles to concentrate. Her cunt is slick and the finger inside it slams back and forth, faster and faster. She wants to come.

The man at her head pushes his cock deep into her mouth, and she feels herself gag. She wants to stop, to resist, but she doesn’t.

“Fucking take it!” He pushes hard on the back of her head as he jams his cock down her throat. She does as she’s told. She feels him wrench her head off of his cock, and he slaps her quickly. She doesn’t expect it, and lets out a whelp. He pushes his cock back into her mouth. She reaches up and starts jerking him off again.

She tries to concentrate on his cock, but the man at her cunt, or maybe one of the other men has started to pull down her thong, exposing her ass. She feels a finger sliding between her cheeks, playing with her asshole. She clenches, but he keeps at it. She hears the sound of a zipper and a belt, and fabric, and she realises that someone is taking off their pants. Strong hands grip her waist, and pull her back toward the edge of the bed. The man at her head pulls his cock out of her mouth and releases the back of her head. Her feet are on the carpet now, her body bent at a right angle over the bed. She feels the man behind her pull her underwear to one side, and then she feels his cock slide into her. She’s wet enough that there’s no resistance. She moans, and then she hears someone tell her to shut up. The man behind her lifts her body up so that she’s standing. She can feel his cock slamming into her again and again. Her cunt envelops him, and she imagines what it must look like. Someone grabs her bra and pulls it down forcefully. They grab at her tits and pinch her nipples and she moans again. She feels weight on the bed in front of her, and then another slap across her cheek.

“Shut the fuck up.”

Someone spits in her face, and then grabs the back of her head and forces it hard onto a cock. She reaches up to jerk it off, but she struggles. It’s hard to focus, to concentrate. The cock in her cunt feels as though it will tear through her. The cock in her mouth chokes her. Her nipples are sore from the fingers gripping them.

“Jerk it, you fucking slut!” She reaches up and wraps her hand around the cock in her mouth. She struggles, but she does whatever she can to get some sort of rhythm going. She takes him as deeply as she can, and she feels bile and spit pouring from her lips. Her eyes water beneath the blindfold, and she pictures the mascara running down her cheeks. His breathing becomes increasingly frantic, and he pulls the cock from her mouth, and starts jerking himself off, and she feels hot streams of come splattering across her face, blindfold, and lips, and he pushes his cock into her mouth for the last few spurts and she tastes it, hot on her tongue, and he tells her to swallow, and she does just that.

She feels a hand push hard against her back, grabbing at the remains of her bra, and her face slams into the mattress and the man behind her fucks her as hard as he can. She hears the sound of her bra rip, and soon she can’t feel it around her. He pushes down on her back, and forces her into the mattress. She feels the early waves of orgasm begin to flow through her. He slaps her ass once, twice, three times, four times, and she feels tears streaming from her eyes now as she comes on his cock, and then he hits her again, and his cock hurts as he slams it into her, but her cunt clenches around him as she spasms and, with a final violent thrust, she feels him pulsing and twitching as he comes deep inside her. He remains there for a moment, recovering himself, before pulling out. Her body is a mess of spasm, but she has no time to recover before she feels someone else take his place, and her cunt, drenched in her juices and filled with another man’s come is occupied with a new cock.

Her ass, already sore from the beating, hurts even more when someone pulls the thong violently and tears it away. She’s naked now. She feels a finger pushing into her ass, and she gasps. He isn’t simply playing with her asshole, he’s trying to finger her. She feels him stretch her open, and although it hurts, she pushes back onto him. He has large hands, with thick fingers. She can almost count the knuckles as they slide into her, and there she lies, filled in from behind, pressing back onto this new man as the waves begin again. She comes on his cock and his finger, and suddenly he grabs her hair and pulls her body up violently and calls her a slut, and although she is in pain, he fucks her hard. That’s when she feels someone standing in front of her, and someone else starts to slap her tits and grab at her body, and all of a sudden there is a hand around her throat and her breathing is cut off. She becomes delirious, and struggles, and wants to cry out, but she can’t and she comes again, harder this time; her orgasm punctuated by the suffocation and just then the hand around her neck releases and she breathes in deeply and tries to recover, remembering how good it feels to have air.

Someone hits her across the face, harder than she wants, and calls her a cunt, and tells her to open wide, and then she feels a stream of hot liquid splashing across her face and into her mouth, and when she realises that someone is pissing on her she wants to close her mouth, and to run away, and she almost does, but they told her to open wide, so she keeps it open, and she sputters and gags, and almost throws up, but she does as she is told.

Then the man in her cunt pulls out and pushes her aside. She feels him lie down on the bed, and then someone lifts her up and sets her down on him, facing away. She feels his cock pushing against her asshole, opening her up, and sliding inside her. It hurts, and she whimpers, but she doesn’t say anything. Her eyes sting from the mascara. Her mouth tastes of piss and come, and her nipples are red from the pinching. Her body is drenched in sweat. She is sure there will be bruises around her neck. This isn’t tender or gentle or kind. This isn’t an evening of romance. This is what she wanted. She is their toy. A set of holes to be used and filled and defiled. This is what she’d asked for.

She feels his cock slide deep into her until the point that she is sitting on him. He grips her waist and starts moving her back and forth and tears stream from her eyes as he fucks her in the ass. She reaches down to touch herself, to help push herself over the edge, but someone slaps her hand away. She reaches back to touch the man behind her, but someone slaps her face hard and she half screams. Then she feels someone move in close to her. She can feel the heat from their body. They grab her legs and lift them up, exposing her cunt. Her thighs are covered in juice and come, and she is slick. Fingers push into her mouth, and they grip tightly, half down the back of her throat. She feels a cock sliding into her cunt, and she winces as she feels herself completely filled, and stretched. The man in front of her pushes in, as the other pulls out. She hears the sounds of other men in the room, and realises that they must all be gathered to watch the show. This makes her feel something, and the waves of orgasm wash over again, and she comes quickly. She pushes back onto any cock that will take her and tries to hold onto the waves as they crash over her again and again, and the fucking grows increasingly frantic, and the fingers in her mouth are making it hard to swallow, and she is drooling, and her chest is covered in sweat, spit, come and piss, and her body is sore, and in spasm, as she imagines the two men inside her, and their cocks touching deep within, and their shafts rubbing up against one another, and their balls smacking together and she wishes that she could watch them fuck; watch them writhe together, and as she thinks about this she spasms deeply once again, and this forces the man in her cunt over the top, and he pulls his cock from her and jerks off onto her stomach, in long, hot spurts. She imagines the come spraying and splattering onto the guy behind her, and she wishes that she could watch them lick it off of one another. The thought is lost when someone grabs her, and picks her up, and the cock slides from her ass, and she feels empty all of a sudden. She is forced to her knees, and she becomes aware that the men are now surrounding her. She can hear the sounds of them jerking off, and she knows what will be next. One by one, they come all over her. On her face, her chest, in her mouth, and her hair. The man who had been in her ass tells her to open wide, and he forces his cock into her mouth, and he tells her to suck him dry, and she does. She grabs his cock and jerks him off as well, and with her free hand she plays with his balls, kneading them, somewhere between gently and rough. She runs a finger back towards his asshole, and she gently pushes into him, fingering him as she sucks his cock, and he comes hard and deep into her throat, and afterwards he calls her a good girl.

There is the sound of rustling clothes and belts, and zippers and the men start talking among themselves as they dress. They laugh and joke, and soon the voices move into the other room. They don’t say a word to her, but she remains on her knees, waiting at attention.

“Do as you’re told.” He said before all of this had started, and so she simply waits. She wonders if they will come back for another round a bit later. Part of her hopes not. Her body is sore. Her cunt aching. She can barely breathe without her throat burning. Nonetheless, if they come back, she will do it again, regardless of how her body feels. She will find a way. There’s no doubt in her mind. The other part of her, the part that wanted this in the first place, can’t think of anything better.

If you’re now panting and post-orgasmically exhausted having read right to the end of that, then you probably have similar tastes to this guy’s partner – and indeed me. Those of you who read my Christmas fantasy from ages ago will understand why this ticks so many of my ‘holy fuck that’s horny’ boxes. If you fancy having a go yourself, check out my guest blog info and get in touch. I’ll add my contribution to the ‘Write Your Own Smut to Turn on Someone You Know’ project as soon as I can see straight again.

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On sex blog search terms

I know I bang on about it all the time, but there really is no limit to the vibrant, messy, diverse range of human sexual tastes. But it’s all very well me telling you that, I’m sure what you’re really after is hard evidence.

Well, you’re in luck. Evidence doesn’t come any harder than the people who typed in the following sex blog search terms that led them here. These were all typed in on the same day:

Sex blog search terms

tickle fuck

Definitely not my cup of tea, and I expect you were incredibly disappointed to be led to the post in which I argue that tickling is one of my least favourite things.

get erection wading in jeans

I have never written about this, so not entirely sure why it’s in there, but my God I’d love to see it. If anyone has any pornography that meets this oh-so-specific fetish, please do pass it along to me. For research purposes.

images of a girl holding a pissing cock

Give me a second while I Google this myself, then spend a good few minutes staring transfixed at the screen. Guys pissing is super-hot, and I’m pretty sure I know where that search term sent you.

Unfortunately, I am not allowed to hold guys’ cocks while they piss quite as frequently as I would like. Apparently I have appalling aim.

over 50 still want spunk porn

Of course you do. Age is no barrier to spunk porn.

getting a blowjob while playing Xbox

I KNEW IT. I fucking KNEW I couldn’t be the only one who thinks that the idea of Xbox blowjobs is super hot (to avoid accusations of product placement I should point out that the particular console doesn’t matter: PS3, N64, an ancient Sega MegaDrive you’ve had hanging around since the 90s – all of these are acceptable).

Sadly, the super-hot post I wrote about giving an Xbox blowjob has not yet achieved the one thing I thought was guaranteed: loads of reddit love. So if you’re on reddit, and you like being blown/blowing someone while they manipulate the controller with their quick, sexy fingers, do me a favour and post it somewhere on their NSFW boards. If it goes viral, I’ll send you a Twix.

where can I find photos of women smelling there feet

I don’t know the answer to this question, but I’d recommend finding a woman you like, who likes you, and asking her if she wouldn’t mind awfully having a quick sniff and taking a snap for you. As far as fetishes go, this one doesn’t strike me as too tricky to fulfil.

girl holds my dick while I pee pics

Again with the dick holding. Perhaps my desire to do it is actually relatively normal, and most couples in which at least one of them has a penis engages in this every now and again. Another one for the ‘research‘ list.

girl using urinal

No pictures, I’m afraid, but I can tell you that although I am rubbish at using female urinals, I did manage to use a male urinal successfully once. It involved some weird angles and a bit of spray, but most of it went where it was supposed to. Definitely one to tell my grandchildren.

nothing could be finer than to lick her sweet v

I can see where you’re going with that, but am upset that you didn’t complete the rhyme. Come on, it was only five more letters! Five! Now I am left feeling unsated.

Vagina.

That’s better.

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On female urinals

Heartbreaking though it is, I don’t have a penis. I’d love one, because there are so many things I’d like to be able to do with it: find out what wanking’s like for boys, spurt jizz out of it into someone’s mouth, and – of course – piss in great powerful jets while I’m standing up.

But I can’t do any of those things because I’m a girl: when I piss I have to sit down.

I’ve just come back from a festival, and despite having a spectacular time, I almost ruined my entire weekend by rather stupidly thinking I should use a female urinal. As they’re becoming more and more popular at festivals and large field-based events, I thought I should make it quite clear to those of you who might happen to give a shit that these things are awful. Not just awful – they are an utterly unfit-for-purpose, idiotic and presumptive solution to women’s urinary needs.

What is a female urinal?

For those unfamiliar with the female urinal, it consists of a long trough running down one side of a room, with small curtained-off cubicles adjoining it. Women who enter are handed a flimsy cardboard funnel and told to cup it to their vulva, lean out over the trough, and piss.

Oh joy – we get to piss like men! Men! Men who are so much more efficient at pissing – who are so much quicker and better that they can pee in half the time! No more of that awkward ‘pulling your trousers all the way down’ idiocy, no more seat-wiping, now women too can stand up and piss like men.

Except, of course, they can’t. Our bodies are designed differently. It shouldn’t need saying but most women don’t have penises, and a flimsy cardboard tube does not a penis make.

What actually happens in these female urinals is – to put it mildly – hit and miss. Some women go in, use the cardboard tube, have a lovely satisfying wee, and come out feeling refreshed. Others (and yes this does include me) go in, grab the tube, fuck about it with for 5 minutes making sure that it’s in the right position, wee a bit, realise it’s cascading out of the back of the funnel, stop mid-flow, readjust tube, wee again, feel more piss pouring down their legs, swear, adjust tube, wee again, realise that the whole exercise is utterly futile, hurl stupid piss-soaked cardboard funnel away, then stomp off to go and queue for the sit-down toilets.

Those skilled women who can use it often argue that it’s quicker – it isn’t. It feels quicker at a festival because far more women are queuing for the ‘normal’ sit-down toilets, so if you’re willing to use a urinal you can breeze past them. But the actual system of pissing has not become more efficient, you’ve just been handed a fast-track pass because you’ve mastered a skill that does not come naturally to the women standing in the long queue.

Someone once told me that it’s better because it’s cleaner – well, not if you piss down your legs. Besides, even if you piss through a tube you still need to wipe yourself afterwards, and there is usually no toilet roll in female urinals – proof (if it were needed) that those who invented them have not the slightest clue how girl pissing works.

A better type of female urinal

I might be incompetent. Wait, no – I am incompetent. But that is not the point – I’m definitely not the only woman who cannot grasp a woefully-inadequate cardboard penis-substitute and urinate through it without humiliation, awkwardness, and a lot of spilt piss.

It’s not exactly patriarchical oppression, I’m just really annoyed that someone decided that the best way to make us more efficient would be to make us act like men, rather than to hunt out a solution that sought to understand the workings of the female urethra. Whoever invented this appears to have based the idea on little other than the idea that men are better at pissing than women.

Problem: women take longer to go to the loo than men, causing massive queues at the ladies. Solution: teach them how to piss like men.

A better solution is to find a system for women that works like urinals – a room in which large groups can piss quickly and easily. How about a trough on the floor we can squat over? How about a nice, clean clearing somewhere in the woods? How about – and this may sound radical – a fucking bucket?

It doesn’t have to be dignified, it doesn’t have to be glamorous, it doesn’t even have to be easier than pissing on a comfy sit-down toilet. It just has to be better than urinating all over your hands, your jeans, and a rapidly-deteriorating wet cardboard tube.

Why do I care? Well, for a start I never want to feel the pressure to ‘just use the female urinals’ and end up wandering a festival at midnight in the rain, with an only semi-empty bladder and piss soaking through my jeans. But also because I genuinely don’t understand why the only solution that’s being offered to the ‘queues at female toilets’ problem is ‘make girls do it like men.’

The sexes are both very different, with staggering variety across and within the gender spectrum, and nowhere are our differences more striking than in our biology. You stand up to piss, I sit down. I should no more be told to ‘just piss standing up’ than I should tell you to ‘just have a multiple orgasm.’