Strange Thoughts and a Wet Walk

The sex between Devin and me, which began on our third date (a month ago now), has been world-incinerating in its hotness. In addition, call it the effect of the honeymoon phase if you want, but I love the guy with every shred of my soul-his gentle gray eyes, his teeth slightly crooked on the upper right, his large but graceful hands, his messy dark hair, his subtle sense of humor, his passion for the same art and music I like, his trace of an Irish accent. (He and his parents moved to the U.S. nine years ago, when he was twelve.)

But there are things I think about doing with him that I'm still shy to bring up. Despite all our hours of conversation every day this past month, and despite all our intensely satisfying sex of the manual, oral, and vaginal varieties, I don't know yet what he'll think of these particular ideas.

Such as my fantasy of enfolding his beautiful cock in my hand while he pees. Or holding my pee until I'm desperate, confessing to him how badly I need to go, and then pissing a torrent in front of him-either wetting my pants or pulling them down and exposing it all; I've fantasized it both ways. I'm only twenty-one and have never told anyone these things. So they're not easy to bring up to a new boyfriend who I adore and don't want to weird out, no matter how game he may seem for most activities.

Today, though, I'm extra aroused. Devin looks his very best, in a soft white T-shirt and loose-slung jeans and a leather-cord necklace I gave him. He smells his best too, like his own warm skin and the fresh air. We've been on a long walk beside the river in our small Midwest city, making out and copping feels on one another at every bend in the trail, and I'm more than ready to spread my legs for him. However, we're in a cafe at the moment, so I can't do that right now.

We shared a large bottle of water as we walked, with me drinking the better part of it, and I haven't peed for three hours. Here at the cafe I ordered a sixteen-ounce iced tea and have now drunk most of that too. My bladder is so full it feels stretched to basketball size. I could have gotten up for the restroom by now, but, truth be told, I'm getting turned on by holding it. My fantasy is rearing its naughty head.

Our conversation quiets a moment as he sips his iced tea and I sip mine. Then I squirm, glance at the bathroom, and bite my lip. "Darn. Someone's in there. And there's already a line." It's true. This is one of those cafes with a one-toilet, one-door bathroom, for which there's always someone waiting.

Devin looks over at it too, then smiles sympathetically at me. "We could go out, find somewhere else."

"Might be a good idea. If I have to wait too long I'm going to pee my pants." I confide this to him under my breath, looking coquettishly into his eyes. My heart is thundering.

I'm pretty sure I see interest flash in his face. He grins. "You're not wearing pants."

It's true in a sense. I have a skirt on today. "Well, my underpants." I squirm again, clenching my thighs together.

The heat does seem to be kindling in his eyes, but maybe that's just at the thought of my underwear. "I'll help you out of them if that happens, never fear," he says.

I try for a cheeky grin. "You would? Even if they were soaked with pee?"

"Could be something erotic about that," he points out, in the tone of voice he uses when talking about things that are academically interesting. But that could just be a cover for his own arousal, because I swear he's got a bit of a blush going on now, and is paying closer attention to me. If he weren't into it, he'd be looking away or something.

"True." I smile down at the table. "I've had some strange thoughts like that sometimes, actually."

His foot slides up alongside mine, on the floor. "Well, babe, you ought to know I'm up for anything when it comes to you." Yes. He sounds breathless.

I meet his eyes again and we say nothing for several seconds; we just assess each other. "Let's find somewhere else," I murmur. "Somewhere outside. Somewhere private."

He nods swiftly. In under a minute we've dumped our tea cups in the bus bin, refilled our water bottle from the cooler (Devin threw me a sly smile while he did that), and are out in the summer evening air, heading back to the river.

He slides his arm around me. "And where is it you'd like to go?"

I'm so excited my panties are already wet without any pee entering the equation yet. "The woods, I would say. And um...what do you think? Should I do this with my underwear on or off?"

He swallows as he glances at me; I can see it in the bob of his Adam's apple. "Your choice. But I've got to say, now that you've given me that mental image of them all wet, I'm pretty attached to it."

"All right." I glance down. My skirt is black with a blue flower pattern, loose and knee-length. "This is dark enough I don't think it'll show if it gets a little wet."

"Oh my God." He leans in to murmur close to my ear. "This is turning me on more than I expected."

I hug him against my side as we walk. "Good. Me too."

"Also," he adds, "you're not the only one with a full bladder. So...I hope you don't mind my taking care of that too. Soon."

I look into his eyes. "I would enjoy seeing that. A lot." And touching that, if he doesn't mind...but we'll get to that question when the actual time comes. I glance around in impatience. The nearest people are hundreds of yards away, strolling the path and paying no attention to us.

So I seize my chance. I squirm again. "Oooh, I really have to go, I'm getting desperate, babe, seriously. I-oh, God!"

I did it intentionally, I confess, but I make it look like a genuine accident. The spurt of pee floods the crotch of my cotton panties and runs down both legs. Ahhh. Precious, erotic, soaking relief, if only for a moment.

We both stop walking and look down. I've stopped the temporary release; it only lasted a second. But it was enough to make little puddles pool in my walking sandals-which fortunately are waterproof and can get hosed off when I get home. Devin's gaze lingers on them long enough that he must be able to tell I've stopped peeing for now (otherwise the puddles would be growing), then his eyes travel up the tracks of rivulets on my bare legs, and find my face. "Doing all right?" he asks, his voice husky.

I nod, breathing shallowly. "Just lost control for a second there. For real, I'm totally dying to go. Please, let's hurry, please." The begging, the wet panties...oh, it's turning me on.

"Then let's find you somewhere, you poor lovely lady." Eyes burning with lust, he pulls me closer, and guides me down the trail.

We get deeper into the shadows under the trees, and I spot a skinny side trail that moves away from the river. "Here." I tug him down it. "Hurry. I can't hold it much longer. Oh-oh God, I'm-oh no, I'm peeing again..." We pause on the little trail and I stand with knees parted. We both watch the (again intentional) spurt of clear yellow liquid trickle down my legs and patter onto the dust.

"It's all right," he breathes, "no one's around. Bet it feels good to let some out, doesn't it?"

"Mmm. So good." I've stopped my stream again, and wedge my hand between my legs, which gets my skirt wet too, but taking the classic piss-desperation pose arouses me further. "Let's get further out of sight, quick, please. I have a lot more left, and I'm obviously starting to lose control." I shift my weight rapidly back and forth from one foot to the other.

He entwines our fingers together and we hurry along the winding trail into the woods. "I figure anyone must be who keeps peeing their pants without meaning to."

"Well..." I squeeze his hand. "I bet I COULD have held it a little longer. It's just, I knew it was going to feel so good to let go, and you said you wanted to see it, so I kind of subconsciously let my control slip, I think..."

He chuckles in his low, naughty way, as if he's guessed the whole truth behind my half-truth. The trail has taken a couple of bends and we're out of sight of the main path, so he pulls me near and drops the water bottle on the ground. And suddenly his hand is up my skirt, knocking my own hand out of the way and massaging my sopping wet crotch. "God, I love you. You sexy, wet thing."

"Watch out. Your hand's going to get flooded if it stays there."

"Flood it, then. Nice and slow." His nose is against my neck, his fast breath gusting across my throat. His dick is hard as a rock. I can feel it against my hip; he's grinding slowly against me. "Let out a little more," he whispers. "Fill my hand up."

I half-close my eyes and relax my clenched groin muscles, and feel my hot piss flow and pool into his cupped hand. "Uhhhh," I groan in ecstasy.

"Slow, really slow, make it last..."

"I am...I'm holding back...oh, but it's still coming, it feels too good, I have to..." My piss is trickling out in a thin but constant leak, nothing like the torrent it would be if I fully let go. All the same, it's been overflowing his hand and making an audible patter on the ground between my feet, and drops are spattering my feet and ankles.

Devin is grinding against me harder than ever, and is panting now. His middle finger swipes the crotch of the panties aside and slides up and down my slick, swollen, naked cleft. He moans when he finds my urethra, the source of the persistent jet of pee, and he rubs his finger around and around it.

I clutch his shoulders, perilously close to coming even while in the middle of relieving myself and with still quite a volume to pee out, judging from the sweet ache that continues clamoring from my bladder. I really drank a ton and held it a long time, and oh, did that plan pay off.

"Stop pissing." His fingers press hard against my urethra, as if to plug me up. It works, or at least it does after I add my own muscle clench, though it takes a few seconds of dribbling all over his hand and my thighs before the flow truly stops.

We're both panting and flushed and hopelessly turned on. "Oh, please can I keep going?" I beg, thrusting my hips against his hand. "It feels so good...I still have so much..."

He lifts my skirt. "I want to see. And..." With his other hand he fumbles at his jeans, gets the button undone, and shoves them down enough to let his erection pop out. It sticks up, engorged and red, obscene and scorching sexy. He arches his back to poke it forward until its tip kisses my dripping pussy. "On me. Piss on me. Let go, just totally let go."

I relax my jaw and bladder at the same time. Breathing blissfully through my mouth, I groan as I open the floodgates. Now it's the torrent, the true fabulous piss of someone bursting who finally makes it to a toilet and lets go. But instead of in a toilet, I'm wantonly pissing in the woods, all over the ground and my legs and the cock of the man I love. My stream hisses against his dick and splatters our thighs and rains down to the ground, wetting his jeans on the way and sprinkling our feet.

"Oh, that's it," he gasps, rubbing against my flooding crotch. "Oh, God, it's hot, it feels so good...keep going...that's-uh! UH!" He jerks repeatedly, his eyes shutting, and his come shoots to the ground along with my now-waning stream of pee.

He slowly opens his eyes and looks down, catching his breath. I look down too, spreading my thighs and opening my labia with my fingers so that the last graceful arc of pee is fully visible as it exits my body and sprays across his dick. The final few drops run down his pubic hair and drip from his balls. Gorgeous. Hot. Heaven.

"Ahhh," I sigh. "Much better. Except..." I take hold of his wet cock and rub its tip against my clit. "I need relief in one other way now."

"As do I." He's grinning again. "Remember how I'm dying to piss too?"

I keep his cock right where it is. "You're in position. Go for it."

"Oh, babe," he groans. "You sure?"

I give his cock a squeeze. "Wouldn't have it any other way. Go ahead. Start slow, if you can."

He lifts his eyebrows with a self-conscious laugh, then looks down at his penis. I look too-avidly, eagerly. I don't have to wait long. A shy leak of warm golden piss soon squirts out from its tip, hits me right on the clit, and runs down my labia. I hear it start dripping on the ground, adding to the lake I've made at our feet. "Uhh, oh God," I moan at the delicious feeling of it-of having his gorgeous cock in my hand, and having it emit piss straight onto my throbbing crotch...

"I can't believe I'm doing this," he breathes. "I'm not sure I can stop...I'm getting going now...and it feels too good...ahhh... "

Sure enough, his flow is strengthening; his piss is striking me harder, caressing me. I drink in the sight of that stream shooting steadily out of his penis, the sight I've fantasized about so many times. "It does feel good," I breathe back, "it feels so fucking good..." And that's about as eloquent as I can be anymore. I caress his cock up and down, rocking my hips uncontrollably, bathing myself with his warm piss. "Uh-uh-UH!" I can't hold my orgasm back; I'm coming in shudders, and he's holding me upright by letting me lean against him.

My climax must last thirty full seconds, but he's still pissing on me throughout all of it. God bless the large bladder of this man. As I finally slump and subside against his shoulder, I smile down at the still-half-stiff cock that keeps spraying a light stream against me. I tip it back so it makes a cute little fountain in the air. "So much fun to play with," I say, waving the fountain back and forth.

He chuckles, sounding a bit embarrassed, but keeps on pissing for me. God, I love the guy. The fountain dies down. I rub his cock in encouragement. "Any more for me?" He pushes his hips forward, grunts softly, and urges out one more trickle, which shoots past me and sprinkles a fern.

Then he sighs and relaxes. "Think I'm empty for now."

"Good thing you refilled that water bottle."

He chuckles again, and kisses my ear and neck. "Very good thing."

"I mean, if I drink more, I might have to pee again before we get home..."

"What a shame that would be." His fingers are languorously playing with my wet, slippery groin. Mine haven't entirely let go of his drenched cock, either. "If I put my mind to it," he adds, "I could think of some new ways a desperate woman might be able to find relief."

"With your help?"

"Naturally."

"Hmm." I tuck his cock back into his jeans, and stretch my dripping underwear and splotched skirt back into place. Then I raise an eyebrow at him. "Why do I get the impression I'm not the only one who's had these strange thoughts before?"

He smiles a beautiful, wicked smile. He curls his arm around my waist. "You've only seen the beginning of my strange thoughts." Then he picks up the water bottle with the other hand and lifts it in offer to me. "Drink?"

I take it. "Yes, please."