BeneathMyWillow

Hi everyone,an unusual one today. Some of you might have heard about a bizarre tweet from an official Harry Potter account a few years ago, where they raised the idea that before indoor plumbing came to Hogwarts, witches and wizards used to just piss where they stood and use magic to get rid of the evidence. It was mocked across Twitter, but anyway, I decided to run with it. So here is my piss-erotica fanfic set in the Harry Potter world in a pre-plumbing Victorian era. It may or may not be your thing, but hopefully at least some people will enjoy it.

Also, I wanted to make it very gay and trans, because I like to believe that this fantasy world can be a welcoming home to everybody, despite what certain authors may tweet.

A word of warning: in order to be consistent with the setting, these characters are sixteen and still at school. If that's not something you want to read, please click away.

This story contains wetting, nonchalent peeing, and masturbation.

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Benjamin Lewis paused at the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 to check that nobody was looking his way. He had ridden to the station on the back of his father’s cart, perched among the crates as the ageing horse trudged over the cobbles. His father, who wasn’t usually an expressive man, had tousled his hair and hugged him farewell at the station entrance.

Now, Ben stepped through the barrier and onto the station platform. As he stepped from the world of top hats and suits and to the world of pointed hats and robes, Ben broke into a smile. The platform was full of the usual chaos, with children running back and forth, parents fussing and sobbing, owls and cats screeching at each other, and blasts of steamy air from the engine billowing across the platform. Just in front of Ben, a woman was stood with a look of concentration on her face, her robes discoloured by a wet patch that spread from her crotch to the puddle at her feet. A few seconds later she waved her wand, causing both wet patch and puddle to disappear. She smiled politely at Ben as he passed, as though what she’d done was nothing out of the ordinary. Ben grinned back. He was home.

He walked along the train, smiling at familiar faces, ignoring the pressure that was building up in his bladder, until he found the two people he was looking for. John and Elizabeth had found a compartment all to themselves and were sitting beside each other, holding hands. They only ever held hands when they were alone or with Ben.

John Alcindor was tall and dark-skinned, with a strong jawline and a stubbly beard. He and Benjamin had met on his first day at Hogwarts, many years ago. The Alcindors were a family of black witches and wizards that traced their ancestry back for generations, and the young John had been happy to show a young and confused Muggleborn kid around.

Elizabeth Brooks was also Muggleborn, though her background was rather different from Ben’s, as was obvious from the fine quality of her dress and the diamonds in her earrings. She was almost as tall as John, but with some curves that her corset and dress accented well. Benjamin had thought she was snobbish when they first met, but they had grown to like each other. A lot had changed since then -- they had both swapped their genders, for one thing -- but their friendship had only grown stronger.

Now, Ben joined them in their compartment and sank down into a spare seat, breathing a sigh. “So good to be back,” he breathed. He spread his legs a little wider and released the pressure he’d been holding in his bladder.

Elizabeth smiled at the obvious wetness spreading through Ben’s trousers. “You’ve been holding that a while?” she asked.

Ben nodded. In the outside world, pissing was a constant inconvenience. Most men in London would simply piss into the gutter or use a quiet alleyway, but for Ben this meant revealing to the world that he was a man with a vagina. Public toilets were rare, and in any case, they brought their own gender problem. No, he much preferred the wizard’s approach. And now that he was back in the wizarding world and allowed to use magic, he could piss whenever he needed.

Across from him, John was unfastening the front of his robes. He pulled out his cock and allowed it to hang loosely off to one side as he started to piss, spraying the wall of the carriage as well as his own robes and seat.

“It’s a real shame you both can’t use magic at home,” he said. “I can’t imagine living in a world without it.”

“You’re not supposed to use magic at home either, you know,” Elizabeth grumbled. “Your family just think they’re above the law.”

“They only let me use a few spells,” said John. “Vanishing my own piss, and a couple of cleaning spells to help with the housework. How do you guys piss at home, then?”

“You keep asking this,” said Elizabeth. “I told you, I piss in a chamber pot under my bed, and in the morning our maid takes it away.”

“And what does she do with it?” asked John.

“She probably throws it out of the window,” said Ben. “That’s what we do with ours.”

“Actually she doesn’t,” said Elizabeth. “We have plumbing directly to our house now, had it installed a few years ago. So we have a proper water toilet. But it’s outside, so I still use the chamber pot overnight.”

“Apparently the Ministry of Magic got hooked up to the Muggle plumbing network this summer,” said John. “My dad says not many people use it. Most prefer the old-fashioned way.”

“Do you think Hogwarts will ever get plumbed in?” asked Elizabeth.

“No, why would they bother?” said Ben. “It’s so remote, surely it’ll never make sense. Besides, why would you need to, when we can just go wherever we like?”

For a few minutes, Ben enjoyed the warm wetness of his clothes, feeling the way they clung to his ass and pussy. Then he pulled out his wand and muttered a Scouring Charm. In a second, his trousers and the seat underneath him were dry as a bone. For good measure, he also cleaned the mud off his shoes.

It had been a shock when Ben first learned of this wizard’s approach to urination. The day he first learned he was magical, Hogwarts had sent a teacher to tell him in person, as was traditional. However, young Professor Selwyn hadn’t spent much time around Muggles. And so she didn’t think anything of it when, halfway through describing life at Hogwarts, she casually lifted her skirts and relieved herself in the middle of their parlour, right onto their best rug. Ben’s poor mother nearly fainted.

It was only a few weeks later, on Ben’s first train journey to Hogwarts, that John had explained to him how things worked. Ben didn’t believe it until he saw John stand up and pee in a corner of their compartment, and even after that it took some persuading for Ben to do the same. After some time at the school he got used to it. After all, since it was so easy to clean up with magic, why was there any need for the unpleasantness of chamberpots or outhouses?

Soon the train started moving, and Ben decided to get changed from his Muggle clothes to his robes. He had no issue with getting undressed in front of John or Elizabeth. They had seen each other naked plenty of times before, first as dormitory room-mates -- they had shared one room for several years after Ben transitioned and before Elizabeth did -- and more recently because of their shared penchant for secret, night-time skinny-dipping in the lake, not to mention a growing interest in each other’s bodies.

Ben stripped off his Muggle shirt and trousers, and breathed a sigh of relief as he unfastened the bandages tied around his chest. Several years ago, the Hogwarts nurse had taught him to cast a Binding Spell, which bound his chest both more effectively and more comfortably than any Muggle way he knew. He badly missed being able to cast the spell during the holidays.

Once he was finished changing, Elizabeth got to her feet. “I need to piss as well. Don’t mind me, chaps.” She lifted her skirts out of the way with one hand, using the other to direct her cock towards the spare seat next to John. Not for the first time, Ben thought about how much she’d changed from the prim-and-proper boy she’d seemed to be when they first met.

“Could you aim a bit further away, please,” grumbled John. “I’m getting some spray.”

“Pardon?” said Elizabeth, smiling sweetly as she turned to face him, deliberately splashing her stream over his lap as she did. Ben laughed, and laughed harder still at the expression on John’s face as the man grumpily pulled out his wand and charmed himself dry.

Elizabeth finished off, magicked away the puddle from the chair and floor, and then changed into robes herself. As she stripped down to her underwear, she noticed the two boys watching her and laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“Have you, ah, been taking that potion Professor Davies made for you?” asked John.

Elizabeth smiled, put her hands on her hips and thrust out her chest, which had grown noticeably over the summer. “Do you like them?”

“I certainly do,” said John.

Elizabeth blushed, but looked pleased.

“I wish there was a potion to do the opposite,” said Ben, gesturing vaguely at his own chest area. “I’d happily get rid of mine.”

“Oh, I meant to tell you,” said John. “I went to St Mungo’s to ask about that for you. There’s some operations they can do. You should send an owl to Dr McKinnon, he’ll tell you the details.”

“Thanks for doing that,” said Ben, with a warm smile. “It means a lot.”

Elizabeth pulled her robes down over her head and, fully dressed, went to sit next to John.

“I’m sorry I peed on you,” she said, taking his hand in hers.

“It’s all right,” said John. “I’ll get my own back when you’re not looking.”

“Can I make it up to you?” said Elizabeth. She twirled her wand in her free hand.

John raised his eyebrows. “I’m sure you can find a way,” he said.

“Are you sure you want to do that here?” said Ben.

“Do what?” asked Elizabeth, innocently. “We’ll be very proper. We’re not even going to touch each other.”

“Fine, whatever,” said Ben. “I’m just worried somebody will walk in.”

“Colloportus,” said Elizabeth, pointing her wand at the door. The lock clicked. “See, nobody’s going to interrupt us.”

She pointed her wand towards the crotch of John’s robes and muttered the incantation for a Stimulation Charm. Stimulation Charms were strictly banned at Hogwarts, which of course meant that every student had learned how to cast one by their final year. Elizabeth waved her wand gently through the air, while John closed his eyes and leaned back in his seat.

Ben flicked open that morning’s copy of the Daily Prophet as John’s breathing became laboured. Ben absent-mindedly skimmed through the headlines, before arriving at the crossword.

John gave one final grunt and his body convulsed, and Elizabeth ended the spell. For a few seconds John stared into space, seemingly shell-shocked.

“Anything interesting in the paper?” Elizabeth asked Ben.

“Not really,” said Ben. “I’m stuck on five down. Inventor of the cheese cauldron, seven letters.”

John arose from his reverie and chuckled. “That was Humphrey Belcher, didn’t you hear the story?”

As he spoke, he directed his own wand at his robes and cast a Scouring Charm, presumably to clean his spunk off the inside.

“Do you want a turn?” Elizabeth asked, pointing her wand towards Ben. Ben put the newspaper down and opened his legs.

The Stimulation Charm was a remarkable experience. The feeling was like being touched in a hundred places by a hundred tiny hands, each of them pulling and poking and rubbing. Elizabeth controlled the flow of the spell with tiny movements of her wand, skirting around the edge of Ben’s vulva, teasing close to his clit, then moving away, exploring the sensitive skin around the edge of his asshole, then forwards again to hover just beside his clit. A pleasurable mixture of tension and expectation welled up inside him in response to her teasing. He felt himself get wet down there.

He also became suddenly aware of the tension in his bladder, which had filled up again. He wasn’t desperate yet, but what was the point in holding it? He relaxed and felt his piss trickle out of his pussy and down over his buttocks. Elizabeth laughed when she saw the wetness, and with a twitch of her wand she directed the spell onto Benjamin’s clit, sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

It wasn’t long before he came, with a shuddering gasp that he hoped wasn’t loud enough for the people in the next compartment to hear. For several seconds he lay there, his mind buzzing, waiting for his breathing and heart rate to return to normal. He distantly heard John’s voice, and realised John was now casting the spell on Elizabeth. With some effort, Ben sat up for long enough to clean off the various fluids that were now staining his robes. One spell, and they were as good as new again.

 

At long last, the train arrived at Hogsmeade station. In the corridor outside their compartment were several puddles, presumably left by younger students who didn’t yet know the spells to clean them up. Elizabeth and John stepped over these puddles, while Ben hung back to Vanish them away.

They rode the horseless carriages up to the castle, and followed the crowd into the entrance hall. Some students went straight through to the great hall for the feast, while others hung back to relieve themselves before dinner. The bolder students pissed against a wall or squatted over the floor. Others queued up to use alcoves that held suits of armour, or crouched behind the four giant hourglasses that showed the house points. A few simply stood still for a minute, peeing in their robes. The students who hadn’t yet learned Vanishing or Scouring Spells just left their puddles where they were, knowing that a teacher or prefect would come by to clean up soon enough.

The feast was as delicious as usual. Benjamin ate heartily and drank several glasses of pumpkin juice, sitting at the Ravenclaw table with Elizabeth and John.

After the feast, the headmaster, Professor Aragon, stood up to give his speech. He was not an inspiring speaker, and the hall was soon full with the sounds of students fidgeting or whispering to each other, intermingled with the occasional pattering sound of somebody relieving themselves under the table.

John and Benjamin played their usual game during Aragon’s speeches, which was guess when the headmaster is pissing himself. Professor Aragon had a habit of taking a deep breath every few sentences, often pausing his speech for several agonisingly long seconds. Ben and John had long suspected that he was using these breaks to take a quick leak into his black robes. It was hard to tell from a distance, but sometimes they were sure they saw the front of his robes glisten.

There was a range of behaviours among the teachers when it came to pissing. Ben would never forget his first ever lesson at Hogwarts, with the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Dawlish. Halfway through his introductory talk, Dawlish turned away from the class, unfastened his robes, and pissed across the floor, all while continuing to monologue at them over his shoulder. Selwyn, the Charms teacher, had a similar habit of simply lifting her robes and squatting where she stood, though she sometimes used her desk as a cover. Professor Ogden, who taught Herbology, liked to relieve herself into any plant pot or bag of compost nearby. Professor Davies, the rather shy Potions master, preferred to excuse himself and step into a supply cupboard for a few minutes. But the most impressive was Professor Goldstein, who taught Transfiguration. He had perfected the art of Vanishing his piss at the same rate that it came out. He would stand at the front of the classroom with his cock in one hand and wand in the other, pissing a stream that disappeared in mid-air.

The headmaster’s speech came to an end. Ben, John and Elizabeth made their way upstairs towards the Ravenclaw common room, pausing on the seventh floor for Elizabeth to take a leak against a tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy and his tap-dancing trolls. The trolls in the tapestry scurried away as Elizabeth splashed the front of the tapestry, returning and scowling at her after she had magicked the fabric dry again.

The entrance to Ravenclaw tower was guarded by an enchanted doorknocker that asked each student a riddle before letting them enter. It wasn’t uncommon for students to be stuck outside, sometimes for hours, waiting for someone who knew the answer to come along. A nearby broom cupboard, never locked, was the designated bathroom for those who were stuck outside. It saw such heavy use that there was usually a faint smell coming from it, no matter how many Scouring Charms were cast on it.

Some students were planning to sit up in the common room for a while, but most headed straight for the spiral stairs that led to the dormitories. A few paused to relieve themselves behind a chair or against a bookcase.

Elizabeth said goodnight and headed for the girls’ dormitory, while Ben and John made their way up to the boys’. Girls could enter the boys’ dormitory but boys weren’t able to enter the girls’. Sometimes Elizabeth would sneak up to join them in their room, either so they could talk somewhere private or sometimes so she could do things besides talking.

It had been quite a shock for Ben, back on his first day at Hogwarts, when he was still in the closet about being trans and he still dressed and acted like a girl. He had tried to follow the other girls up the staircase, only to set off a wailing alarm and find the staircase melting into stone under his feet. Luckily, Professor Selwyn had been very understanding, and made it clear that Ben was not the first student this had happened to. Sometimes, she said, the enchantment on the staircase seemed to know more about a student’s gender than the student did. She’d offered Ben a choice between moving to the boys’ dormitory or making some alternate sleeping arrangements elsewhere in the castle, and Ben didn’t hesitate to say he wanted to move into the boys’ rooms.

A few years later, Ben had held Elizabeth’s hand as she took her first nervous step onto the girls’ staircase, and hugged her tight when no alarm sounded. At that time Elizabeth had already spent several nights sleeping in armchairs in the common room, no longer comfortable sleeping in the boys’ room but too nervous to try the girls’ staircase in case it sounded the alarm. Ben and John persuaded her to try it, and then to ask Selwyn about moving dormitories, and by that evening she was moving her suitcases over to the girls’ rooms.

Looking back with the age and experience they had now, both having lived comfortably in their genders for years, it would be easy to laugh those kind of early worries off as silly; but at the time it didn’t feel silly at all.

Up in their room, John and Ben got changed into pyjamas, chatting idly about the upcoming school year as they did. As soon as he was naked below the waist John started to piss, casually emptying all the pumpkin juice he had drunk onto the carpet while he unbuttoned his shirt. Once he was changed, John said goodnight to Ben and pulled the curtains closed around his four-poster bed. A few minutes later, Ben heard John mutter the incantation for a Stimulation Charm, and then the muffled sounds of him pleasuring himself one last time before sleep.

Ben climbed into his own bed, marvelling as he always did at how soft and warm the bedsheets were. He sometimes thought he could spend a whole day curled up in one of these beds. He slipped a hand inside his pyjamas and started to rub himself, releasing his bladder as he did so. He enjoyed the feeling of his piss spraying out between his fingers before it soaked into the bed linen. With his spare hand he picked up his wand and whispered his own Stimulation Charm, and set about bringing himself to as much pleasure as he could.

Yes, he was certainly glad to be home.

 

Hi everyone, back with another story about this group of students staying in a cheap ski hostel. It's not particularly important to read them in order, but I'll also link parts 1, 2, 3, and 4. This story contains indoor peeing and some elements of pee vandalism, but nothing too extreme.

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“Morning, all,” said Richard, striding into the shared dormitory room at the cheap skiing hotel. There were sleepy grunts from several of the beds. Richard held the door open as two women followed him into the room, looking nervous.

“What are you doing here?” said Kelly, her voice still croaky from sleep. “This isn’t your room.”

“Sorry to disturb you,” said Richard. “The bathroom’s in use.”

“Are you sure this is all right?” asked one of the girls, a black woman named Lauren.

“Of course,” said Richard, walking across to the spare bed. “Take a look around.”

He gestured at the carpet, which was now mottled with circular stains and still had several wet patches from where the room’s occupants had pissed before bed. Lauren sniffed the air and wrinkled her nose.

Richard untied his pyjamas, and soon he was pissing a dark, first-piss-of-the-morning stream towards the spare bed. For a time it puddled on the bedsheets, stark against the white linen, before slowly seeping away into the blanket and the mattress beneath. He looked back at the two girls and winked. “It’s fine, don’t be shy.”

The woman who hadn’t spoken yet, who was called Annabelle, said, “I don’t see why not.” She stepped into the centre of the room and started to unfasten her pyjama shorts. She was a long-legged blonde girl who spoke with a French accent. She had broad shoulders and large tits that her crop top did not attempt to hide, and when she pulled down her shorts it was clear that she shaved herself all over.

“I don’t see why you can’t all piss in your room,” grumbled Kelly. “This isn’t a public loo.”

“No sense in trashing two rooms,” said Richard, glancing over his shoulder at her while still spraying the spare bed.

“Let them piss where they want, Kelly, it’s not hurting anyone,” said Will, who had sat up in his top bunk.

Kelly snorted, and said to Annabelle, “He’s only sticking up for you cause you’re hot and he wants to see your minge.”

“If he wants to watch, so what?” said Annabelle. She had completely removed her shorts to keep them out of the way, and now sank into a high squat.

Lauren went to squat in the corner of the room by Chloe’s bed. She was shorter than Annabelle and more petite, dark skinned, with frizzy black hair.

“Hey Chloe,” she said, giving her a sheepish expression as she pulled her pants down.

“Morning, Lauren,” said Chloe, sitting up in bed. “How’s it going?”

“I’m not bad, thanks,” said Lauren, as a splashing sound came from where she was squatting.

The three visitors finished their relief and left. Will and Chloe, the only two who were fully awake yet, both got out of bed and started changing from their pyjamas. Both of them would usually have taken a leak while they were getting changed, but by some unspoken agreement, neither of them did this morning. Once they were dressed they made their way out of the room, but as they were leaving, two guys walked in.

“Hi,” said one of them. “Er … the bathroom’s occupied, and Richard said …”

“Pick a wall,” said Chloe. “Just try not to make too much noise, people are sleeping.”

 

Will and Chloe rode the elevator to the ground floor in silence. They didn’t know each other very well, although they had met once or twice before when Chloe went to watch Helen at football matches. Once they reached the ground floor, Will looked around the empty hallway and spied a cleaner’s cupboard nearby.

“Wait up a second, will you?” he asked, as he slipped inside.

Chloe waited patiently. After a few seconds, a splashing sound became very audible in the otherwise quiet lobby. The edge of a puddle started to creep out from beneath the cupboard door, discolouring the shabby carpet. Chloe smiled and nodded at a couple of students who walked past on their way to breakfast.

Will emerged from the cupboard, fastening his flies as he did so. “Good to get that out of the system,” he said, as he and Chloe made their way towards the dining room.

It was the kind of hotel that charged for breakfast, so the two of them bought some scrambled eggs and coffee and sat down at a table together, in a quiet corner of the dining room.

“Everything all right?” Will asked Chloe, who was looking around surreptitiously.

“I’m fine,” said Chloe. “Do you mind if I pee here? I didn’t go in the room and, well --”

“Please, don’t let me stop you,” said Will.

“Keep a look out for anyone coming closer,” said Chloe, as she disappeared under the table. A moment later there was a quiet hissing and splashing from the tiled floor.

“It’s funny, we’ve been pissing in the room for a few days, but this morning I didn’t fancy it,” said Will. “I wanted to do something more, you know?”

Chloe’s head reappeared briefly above the table. “I know exactly what you mean,” she said. “After last night, I woke up wanting to do something more daring.”

“I wonder if the others have the same feeling,” said Will.

 

Upstairs, Nicole was in the middle of getting dressed when the dormitory door swung open yet again.

“Do you mind?” she said, hands on hips as she faced the two men who had wandered in. Both their eyes flicked down to her bare chest.

“Just ignore us,” said one. “The bathroom’s got a really long queue, and Richard said --”

“I don’t care what Richard said,” said Nicole. “This is our room, and you lot have been in and out all morning. Go and piss in your own room.”

“What, and pay a fine ourselves?” said the other. “No chance. This room’s already trashed, you can’t exactly say we’re making it worse.”

As he spoke, he was already unfastening his pyjamas and directing himself towards a wooden cubby hole nearby.

“Not in there, thanks, my suitcase is in there,” Kelly shouted from her bunk.

“All right, all right,” said the dude, stepping to the right and directing his stream towards the side of the cupboard instead. His friend had already started hosing down the back of the door.

“You know,” one of them commented as he pissed, “I always wanted to know what your tits are like, Nicole. I see why everyone talks about ‘em.”

“Yeah, take a good look, you’re not exactly the first,” Nicole shot back. “Have a sad little wank over them later, why don’t you? It’s the closest you’ll get to the real thing, prick.”

The two lads finished up and left. Nicole, still clearly fuming, finished getting dressed, while Helen and Kelly climbed out of bed. The three of them headed out for breakfast, but once they were in the corridor, Nicole stopped.

“Either of you two know where tweedle-dum and tweedle-dee are staying?” she asked.

“Those two guys? I think they’re Richard’s room-mates,” said Kelly. “Room 709, around the corner there.”

“Perfect,” said Nicole. “Keep watch for me, would you?”

She tried the door to room 709, but it was locked. She smirked at her friends as she leant back against the door, pulling the back of her skirt above her waist so that her backside rested against the cheap plywood.

“Filthy cow,” said Kelly, “I know what you’re doing.”

“Are you saying they don’t deserve it?” said Nicole. “I’m not letting them get away with talking to me like that.”

She pissed a couple of spurts, which splashed onto the floor between her feet. After adjusting her angle, the next spurt was directed into the door, and trickled down the wood almost silently. A few more trickles followed, each time getting longer.

“Someone’s coming,” muttered Helen, who was watching around the corner.

“Let’s leg it,” said Kelly.

“I’m not done yet,” said Nicole. “Just act casual. They won’t notice. Pretend you’re talking to me.”

“About what?” said Kelly, wide-eyed.

“I don’t know, anything,” said Nicole. “I’m kind of distracted here.”

“Who’s the cutest guy you’ve seen on this trip?” supplied Helen, as an elderly couple rounded the corner.

“There’s lots of good-looking guys,” said Nicole, with a smirk. “Why would I choose just one?”

She shifted her legs together as the couple approached. Piss continued to trickle down the door behind her, barely noticeable to somebody who didn’t know to look for it. There was only the damp patch slowly spreading around her feet that might give her away.

“I expected you to say Will,” said Kelly. “He’s the one you hooked up with, isn’t he?”

“Who says he’s the only one I’ve hooked up with?” said Nicole, her smile turning smug. “Where do you think I was yesterday afternoon?”

“You messy bitch,” said Kelly, causing the elderly couple to scowl as they passed. “Who, and where?”

“Ryan Field, and it was out the back of that cafe where we had lunch,” said Nicole. “It was complicated with all our coats and salopettes, but we made it work.”

The elderly couple had paused outside a room several doors down from Nicole’s makeshift toilet. They seemed to be searching for their keys. Nicole cleared her throat and adjusted her skirt slightly, causing a stray stream of piss to fall directly onto the sodden carpet for a second with a loud splatter. All three girls held their breath as they looked around at the couple. Luckily they were now bickering about who had last seen the room key, and didn’t seem to have noticed anything unusual.

“I thought you might say Steve,” said Helen.

“Ewww,” said Nicole. “That pig? No thanks.”

“He’s into you,” said Helen.

“I know,” said Nicole, grinning. “Who isn’t? But thanks, I’ve got better options and better taste.”

“What about you, Helen?” asked Kelly. “Who’s the hottest girl? Don’t say Chloe, that’d be lame.”

“Who was that girl in our room this morning?” asked Helen.

“The one with the French accent and the big knockers?” asked Kelly. “Annabelle. Yeah, she’s popular in hockey.”

“Is she into girls?” asked Helen. “The things I’d let her do to me…”

“You should join hockey if you want to see more of her,” said Nicole. “That girl certainly has no body image issues.”

Down the corridor, the couple found their key and disappeared into their room. Nicole breathed a sigh of relief and opened her legs, power-pissing the last of her bladder straight down onto the carpet with a deafening sound.

“Jesus, are you not done yet?” asked Kelly.

“I drank a lot last night, all right?” said Nicole, as her stream petered out. “Either of you have a tissue?”

She wiped herself with the tissue that Helen handed her, and dropped it onto the soaked carpet. Her puddle extended in a wide semi-circle out from the door and, presumably, was just the same inside the room. Nicole mimed brushing her hands in satisfaction. If the others noticed how flushed her cheeks were, they didn’t comment on it.

They walked back past their own room, past the queue for the bathroom, and rode the elevator down to the ground floor. They must have been a bit later than the normal rush for breakfast, because they made it all the way to the ground floor without anybody else joining them.

“Wait a second, will you?” asked Helen when the lift stopped. She gestured for Kelly to press the close doors button, and started to unfasten her pyjama shorts.

“God, you two are not safe to be out in public,” said Kelly, as Helen sank into a squat in the corner of the elevator. “Is there something wrong with pissing on our bedroom floor like everybody else?”

“I forgot to,” said Helen, with an innocent smile, as her piss pattered against the rubberised floor.

“By the way, how much will you pay me not to tell Chloe about you horning over other girls?” asked Nicole.

Helen shrugged. “We don’t have that kind of relationship. She’d probably agree with me.”

“That’s cool,” said Kelly. “My ex didn’t like me even looking at other guys, never mind talking about them.”

“We’ve done more than talk about other girls,” said Helen, looking down at her stream. Her puddle was spreading quickly over the plastic floor, glinting yellow in the lights overhead. Nicole stepped smartly back to avoid the expanding wave.

“That sounds like you’ve a story to tell,” she said.

“Maybe,” said Helen. “Maybe not.”

“You can’t drop a hint like that and then chicken out,” said Kelly. “What happened?”

“I’m just saying it wouldn’t be the first time we’d had a third person involved in our relationship,” said Helen.

“Who was it?” said Nicole.

Helen’s stream eased off. She wiped herself with another tissue and pushed it into the corner of the elevator.

“All right, you know Ellie Payne?” she asked, as she pulled her shorts back up. “She’s in the pole dancing society, has a body to die for? One night she and Chloe hit it off while they were out drinking, and Chloe brought her back to our place. Said she’d missed the last bus.”

“Yeah, I’ve used that line before,” said Nicole.

“I’d been having a quiet night in, but they got me to start playing some drinking games with them,” said Helen, stepping over to the dry half of the elevator floor. “After a few drinks Chloe suggested we play strip poker. And then, I don’t know, suddenly we were all naked on the couch and … I’m not gonna go into the specifics, you can use your imagination.”

“Wild,” said Kelly, who was still holding the door closed button. “Of all the couples to have a threesome, you guys would not have been my first guess.”

“What was it like?” asked Nicole. “I’ve never done it with more than one.”

“I’ve never known anything like it,” said Helen. “You know what it’s like when you fuck somebody new, you’re exploring their body for the first time, everything’s new and exciting. And you know what it’s like when you’re with someone you know really well, when you know what’s going to work for them and what isn’t. Well, that night we had both at once. It was like, me and Chloe were a team, fucking this new girl -- this very hot new girl -- together.”

“Has it happened again since?” asked Nicole.

Helen shook her head. “That was a few months ago. We’ve talked about doing it again, maybe with Ellie or maybe with somebody new, but it’s not an easy subject to bring up with somebody, is it? Hi, this is my girlfriend, do you want to fuck us both at once?”

“Shame you’re not into guys, you’d find one pretty easily with a line like that,” said Kelly.

“Well, Chloe is bi,” said Helen. “Maybe I’d consider somebody who’s not a girl if Chloe was really keen on them. But yeah, it's not so much my thing. By the way, folks, let’s go to breakfast. I think somebody pissed in here, it smells disgusting.”

Hi everyone, I'm returning again to this group of students on a ski trip. Today, the nearby dive bar gets more than they bargained for when our friends show up. It's not particularly important to read them in order, but I'll also link parts 1, 2 and 3. Like the others, this story contains naughty indoor peeing and some elements of pee vandalism, but nothing too extreme. It also contains wetting.

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It was peaceful in the dorm room. Chloe and Helen lay arm-in-arm in Chloe’s bunk, both reading. Jo sat across from them, tapping on their phone, while Kelly napped on the bunk above. They had just come down from their first day of skiing, and were enjoying the opportunity to rest and be quiet. With the window open the carpet had mostly dried out during the day, although the smell lingered.

The quiet was shattered by the door bouncing open, as Steve entered followed by another man that none of the others recognised.

“… just do it in here,” Steve was saying. “We all have been. Afternoon all, look lively,” he added, looking around at the room’s occupants.

“Are you kidding?” said his friend. The guy was tall and well-built, with a square jaw and black hair. He sniffed the air and said, “Jesus, you’re not kidding.”

Steve stood just inside the door and dropped his shorts and boxers to his feet, pointed his cock forwards, and pissed across the carpeted floor, his arc spraying almost the length of the room.

His friend looked around the room’s other occupants, surprised by their lack of surprise. “You guys have all been doing this?”

“Pretty much,” said Jo, while Chloe nodded.

The guy hesitated for a few seconds, then shrugged. “Well, it’s not my room getting trashed,” he said, unfastening his flies and turning to face the wall between the door and Chloe’s bunk.

“What’s going on?” asked Kelly, sleepily. She peered down over the rail of her top bunk just in time to see the new guy start pissing on the wall. “Who the hell are you?” she asked.

“This is my mate Richard,” said Steve, not looking up from his own piss. “He’s another rugby lad.”

“Charmed to meet you,” said Kelly, watching Richard’s piss flow down the wall. “So what, are we just inviting everyone in to piss in our room now? Does this look like a public loo?”

“Stop moaning, you’ve seen what the line for the bog is like,” said Steve. “We just needed a quick piss. Listen, there’s a pub just down the road, do you want to join us? All of you, I mean. You don’t look busy.”

He finished up and shook himself dry, pulled his shorts back up to his waist.

“Sure, I’ll come,” said Helen, stretching. “I just have to pee too and then I’ll be ready.”

She crossed over to the spare bed and squatted above it, her jeans around her knees. The white sheets were looking noticeably discoloured, and her yellowish pee made its own addition to the stains. Richard stared at her, clearly astonished, and not quite managing to hide the way he adjusted his trousers.

Chloe and Jo both peed as well, both squatting on the floor by their beds. Kelly didn’t bother. The group headed out to the pub.

 

The pub was warm, but dark and grimy. The smells of many skiers, fresh off the slopes and pressed closely together, mixed unpleasantly in the damp air. It was an old building that had been extended many times, resulting in a labyrinthine tangle of rooms and corridors.

They eventually found Will and Nicole in one of the back rooms, where they had managed to pull together enough tables for the eight of them to sit despite how busy the pub was. They grabbed a couple of beers each, grumbled about the Swiss prices, and for some time they drank and they reminisced about the day’s skiing.

Kelly was in the back corner, the hardest seat to get out of. Nobody seemed to notice her starting to squirm with discomfort, nor did they notice the sudden relaxation that followed it. Unfortunately, in a lull in the conversation, everybody at the table did hear the dripping sound. All eyes turned to Kelly.

“Sorry,” she whispered, her face bright red. “I thought it would just soak into the cushion, I didn’t realise …”

She was sitting at one end of a bench seat, padded with a cushion, that was not quite as thick and absorbent as she had expected. It had quickly become sodden with her piss and started to overflow onto the wooden floor.

“Eww!” said Nicole. A couple of other people laughed.

Richard, who was sharing the bench with Kelly, felt the damp cushion between them. “Jesus, you really had to go.”

“I haven’t been since we left the slopes,” said Kelly, who still looked mortified. “I didn’t think about -- did it get you?”

“Hasn’t spread this far yet,” said Richard. “But even if it does, I can manage with a damp backside for one evening.”

“Well if she can piss, I can,” said Steve, who had already finished his second beer. He stood up from his seat and started unfastening his shorts.

“Steve! Ew!” said Nicole. “Don’t you dare!”

“What?” said Steve. “You’ve been pissing in the hotel just like all of us.”

“Not the same thing!” said Nicole. “There’s people all around, someone’s gonna see!”

A splashing noise indicated that Steve wasn’t listening. All of the others looked under the table to see a stream of piss splashing against the table legs.

“All right, don’t all look, you’ll make it obvious what I’m doing,” said Steve.

“Wouldn’t want to draw attention to us,” said Helen wryly.

“Don’t you piss on my leg, dickhead,” said Kelly, who was sitting opposite Steve.

“Oh God, we’re going to get kicked out,” said Nicole.

“So what?” said Steve. “There’s other pubs in this town.”

The splashing sound petered out, and Steve put his cock back into his shorts. A couple at the table behind Steve were giving him disgusted looks. Apart from them, nobody else seemed to have noticed.

Steve belched. “I’m going for more beer,” he said, and headed off in the direction of the bar.

“Can you believe him?” Nicole asked.

Will shrugged. “Are you surprised? Anyway, Kelly did piss first.”

“Oi, at least I was subtle about it,” said Kelly.

“Well, I’m going to get my own back on him,” said Nicole.

“How?” asked Will.

“You just keep an eye out for him coming back,” said Nicole. She picked one of the empty glasses off the table, glanced around to see if anyone from the nearby tables was watching, and then held the glass under her skirt. There was an audible tinkling sound, which became a splashing sound as the glass started to fill.

“Come on, keep talking,” said Nicole, as everyone at the table had fallen silent. “I don’t want people to hear.”

“You made such a fuss about Steve pissing,” said Kelly.

“This is different,” said Nicole. “I’m not making a mess.”

Richard laughed. “Cause pissing in a glass is so much classier.”

Nicole filled the glass up to the brim and lifted it back onto the table. In the dim light, the pale yellow liquid didn’t look too different to a cheap lager. Nicole hesitated for a second, then shrugged, lifted her skirt out of the way, and finished her piss right onto the floor.

“Fuck it, I’m not going to the toilet just for the last few drops.”

“Filthy hypocrite,” said Kelly.

“Look, you and Steve started it, all right?” said Nicole. “If the floor’s already wet, might as well piss.”

“When you put it like that, it sounds pretty profound,” said Helen.

Steve returned carrying two more beers. Nicole waited for a moment when he was distracted, then switched out one of his new drinks for the glass she had ‘refilled’. It only took a minute or two before Steve lifted the new glass to his mouth, took a sip, and spluttered.

“What the fuck is that!” he said, as everyone at the table laughed. He sniffed at the liquid, and said, “Who the fuck’s pissed in my drink?”

Nobody answered, but everybody looked at Nicole. Steve followed their gaze.

“Oh, you little minx,” he said. He picked up the glass and threw its contents at Nicole. She gasped as the warm fluid splashed over her chest.

“Hey!” she said.

“Well, you made me drink your piss. And after you made such a fuss about me pissing!”

“This top was clean on this evening,” said Nicole. She squeezed at the front of her shirt, wringing her own piss out of it.

“Are you okay?” asked Richard. “Do you have something to change into?”

“No, it’s fine,” said Nicole. “I’ll just take it off.” So saying, she pulled the shirt up over her head and tossed it onto the floor beneath the table.

She glanced around at the faces nearby, and added, “Don’t get too excited, lads, it’s just a pair of tits. You’ve all seen tits before.”

“Oi, I think some of it must have soaked through to your bra,” said Steve. “You should take that off as well.”

“You’d like that, would you?” Nicole asked.

“Course I would,” said Steve.

Nicole took a long drink from her beer. “Fuck it, it did get quite damp,” she said, reaching behind her for the fastener. “If they chuck me out for this I’m blaming you, Steve.”

The rest of the table stared as Nicole’s tits swung free, as did several people from nearby tables. Kelly was perhaps the only person who didn’t feel their pulse quicken at the sight.

“Okay, folks, you can look at my face again now,” said Nicole, but her expression seemed pleased.

At the next table, the couple who had been giving them disgusted looks before now got up to leave, grumbling under their breath.

Jo left the table in the direction of the bathrooms. It was only a minute before they returned, looking gloomy.

“What’s up, long queue?” asked Chloe.

“Long queue, like everywhere in this town,” Jo agreed. In a quieter voice, they added, “Also, there’s no gender neutral toilet I can use.”

“That sucks,” said Helen.

“I’ll just wait until we get back to the dorm room,” said Jo.

“That might be hours,” said Chloe. “Why don’t you just go here like Steve did?”

Jo shrugged. “I dunno,” they said. “It feels a bit …”

“A bit what?”

“A bit laddish, you know what I mean?” said Jo. “It’s something cocky guys do. I don’t want people to think of me that way.”

“It doesn’t have to be laddish,” said Chloe. “It’s all about the attitude. Watch this.”

She hopped her feet onto her chair, so that she was crouching rather than sitting, and pulled her leggings down to her knees. Helen, who was sat across from her, was the only one who caught a good view of the patch of hair between her legs -- Jo, off to one side, saw only a flash of it. Her pee arced upwards, narrowly missing the edge of the table, before curving down and splashing onto the floor. A few people from the noisier end of the table looked around, but apart from that she drew remarkably little attention.

“See?” Chloe said to Jo. “I’m not a lad making a scene, I’m just a girl who has to pee and doesn’t want to wait in line.”

Helen said, “I can’t tell you how attractive you are right now, Chloe.”

Chloe giggled. “Naughty girl.”

She pulled her leggings back up and resumed her seat.

“So how about it?” she said to Jo. “Just poke your you-know out of your shorts or something, nobody’ll even notice.”

“The floor’s already wet,” said Helen, “so you won’t even be making a mess.”

Jo hesitated for a few seconds longer, then shrugged. “Why not? They should have more toilets.”

They were wearing short jean shorts, and now they pulled at one leg, slipping their member out and aiming at the floor. They pissed for a long time, mingling together with Chloe’s puddle, which was now starting to spread out from under the table.

Meanwhile, the group’s newest member, Richard, was elbowing Kelly, who sat beside him on the bench.

“What?” she asked.

“I want to show you something,” said Richard, taking her hand and pulling it towards him.

“You’re all right, mate,” said Kelly, “I’m not giving you a handjob thanks.”

“Shut up, that’s not what I’m after,” said Richard. He guided her hand to his trouser-leg. She felt the dampness and her eyes widened.

“Did you piss yourself?” she whispered.

“I still am,” said Richard. “Took a leaf out of your book.”

Kelly moved her hand to his crotch, feeling the wetness flowing through the material.

“Good, isn’t it?” said Kelly.

“I can see why you like it,” said Richard.

“It’s so fucking convenient,” said Kelly. “I haven’t used the bog all day, I’ve just pissed in my ski suit. By the time we finished for the day my boots were overflowing.”

A dripping sound started as, just like had happened to Kelly, the cushion under Richard became waterlogged and started to overflow onto the floor.

“It’s convenient, sure,” said Richard, “but there’s more to it than that, right? The warmth, that certain tingling feeling …”

“Gross,” said Kelly, taking her hand away from his crotch.

“You don’t feel it?” said Richard.

Kelly hesitated. “At first I just wanted to piss in that hotel room without showing people my minge.”

“But now …” Richard prompted.

“Are you still pissing?” said Kelly.

“I just finished,” said Richard.

“Well, I need to go again,” said Kelly. “You can feel mine, if you like.”

She pulled his hand to the crotch of her black jeans, still damp from her earlier piss. After a few seconds, Richard felt renewed wetness under his fingers.

“Now tell me that doesn’t feel good,” said Richard, as the wet patch spread down to envelop Kelly’s backside.

“Maybe it does,” said Kelly. “What’s it to you?”

Richard started to run his fingers up and down the in-seam of her jeans. The wet material squelched, and Kelly twitched.

“What are you two up to down there?” asked Will, looking around at them.

“Nothing,” said Kelly, hurriedly pushing Richard’s hand away.

Will got to his feet and stretched. “Well, I have to piss too,” he said. “I hear the line for the bathroom is really long, so I’m sure they won’t object.”

He stepped into the corner between his seat and Kelly’s, unzipped, and let fly against the wall. It was a loud piss, and if any of the other patrons in the room hadn’t noticed the group before, they noticed Will.

Unfortunately, it couldn’t last for ever. A very flustered bouncer approached the table. He saw Will in mid-piss, the topless Nicole, and the puddle that by now was spreading well beyond the table, and he decided the pub could make do without their custom. Before long, all of them were bundled out onto the street, with barely enough time to grab their coats (Nicole pulled her coat on over her bare chest, her sodden top left behind on the floor). The bouncer told them, very explicitly, not to come back, and slammed the door shut.

“Bound to happen,” said Steve. “What do you reckon, on to the next pub, or grab some beers from the supermarket and head back to the room?”

“Wait for me a second, guys,” said Helen. “I asked him to let me use the bathroom before we left, but he seemed to think I was being funny.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Will.

Even as he asked, Helen was pulling down her jeans. She sank into a high squat just outside the pub doors, and power-pissed onto the stones. She must have been holding it all evening, because there was a lot of piss to come. There was a slight downward slope towards the doors, and soon her piss was flowing like a miniature river through the gap under the doors and into the pub. This didn’t seem to bother Helen, who continued to piss like a racehorse for more than a minute, until finally her bladder was empty.

“That’s better,” she said, pulling her jeans back into place. “Such a shame he wouldn’t let me piss inside. Now, where are we going next?”

Reunited, the four of them bought drinks and found a group of deck chairs that faced the long windows. Outside there were more heated pools, and they watched more naked bodies drift around. The gang were in a stupor of relaxation and spent sexual energy. Freya was reading a book, while Olivia listened to music and Simon watched videos on his phone.

Layla was content just to watch through the window. A few snowflakes were starting to fall. She saw a man of about her own age, built like a Viking, approach a petite young woman and say something to her. The woman shrugged in a way that seemed positive, and the two of them swam over towards a corner of the pool. Before long they were getting busy together.

After the gang had sat there for some time, Layla heard a familiar pattering noise. She turned her head to look at Freya. The girl hadn’t moved and kept her eyes fixed on her book, while a trickle of piss flowed from her cock, down one hip and soaked through her towel, before dripping onto the tiles.

Layla had needed to go for a while, and found that her earlier nerves about peeing had lessened. She didn’t want to get her towel wet, so she shifted her legs to one side and pissed off the edge of her chair. Freya glanced over and gave her a smile that made Layla’s heart flutter again.

“Listening to you girls has made me need to go,” said Simon, from Freya’s other side. He stood and stretched, before walking over to the window. Layla watched, intrigued, as his piss flowed down the glass like a waterfall, making the shapes of the swimmers outside ripple.

“That ass looks good from here, Simon,” said Freya.

Simon stretched his arms and yawned, finishing his piss hands-free.

“I fancy another beer,” he said, turning back to the group. “Anybody else?”

“I’ll come,” said Olivia, sitting up. “Layla, weren’t you saying you wanted to try out the saunas?”

Layla hadn’t said that, but Olivia continued without leaving her time to speak.

“Why don’t you and Freya check out the sauna together then while me and Simon have a couple more drinks?”

“Sure, sounds good to me,” said Freya, sitting up and stretching in a way that made her boobs jiggle. Layla was more than happy to go along with it. She glanced at Olivia, who winked.

“The saunas out here are my favourites,” said Freya, as she led way into the patio area. It was not far off sunset and still snowing, although the heat from the nearby pool was enough to melt any snowflakes that reached the ground.

Layla wrapped her towel around her shoulders against the cold. Freya grabbed slippers for both of them and a clean towel from a rack by the door, ditching the towel that she’d peed on into a collection point.

The saunas Freya had in mind were a row of wooden huts along one side of the outdoor area. They walked to the farthest sauna and stepped inside. The air was toasty hot, but dry enough to make it bearable. It was dark too, so much so that Layla didn’t notice the other two women in there until Freya said hello to them. A wood-burning fire was at the end of the small room, while wooden panelling and benches covered the walls.

Freya and Layla climbed onto one of the benches and sat beside each other. A minute or so passed, during which Layla felt her skin start to prickle with sweat. Then one of the other girls in the room said something to Freya, who laughed.

“She asked if we mind her peeing here,” said Freya. “I don’t mind, do you?”

Layla indicated that it didn’t bother her either. The girl who had spoken immediately climbed down from the bench and sank into a half-squat, pissing forcefully. The other didn’t bother climbing down, but moved to the edge of her bench and showered the bench below. In the warm air the smell immediately filled the room, but it wasn’t unpleasant. Once they were done, both girls picked up their towels and headed out into the cold.

“These saunas are all pretty well drained,” said Freya. “They want to keep the air in here dry, but they know there’s nothing that’ll stop people pissing in here, so --”

“Freya, can I tell you something?” Layla asked, before her confidence failed her. “I think I like you. Like, quite a lot, actually.”

In the dark, it was hard to read Freya’s expression. “You mean, in a romantic way?” the girl said.

“I just wanted to tell you,” said Layla. “We don’t have to --”

She suddenly felt Freya’s hand on her leg.

“We should talk about it,” said Freya. “You and I come from very different cultures. There might be things we need to work out. But I’m happy to try it if you are.”

Layla suddenly found it hard to speak. She leaned her head against Freya’s shoulder.

“I must have misread something,” said Freya, softly. She started to stroke Layla’s leg. “That day you arrived, and we fucked, I was worried I’d gone too far. I’ve been holding back since then. I didn’t want to intimidate you.”

With her heart in her mouth, Layla said, “Do you want to do it now?”

“To fuck? Absolutely,” said Freya. “I don’t think I’ve ever tried it in a sauna. Let’s give it a go.”

She began to run her hand up Layla’s leg. Layla, her heart pounding, reached down for Freya’s cock.

“Careful with that,” said Freya with a giggle. “It’s delicate.”

Layla had slept with a couple of boys at university -- though, it had to be admitted, not very many -- and had no experience with girls, trans or otherwise. Still, she had some idea what to do. Freya was already starting to stiffen up, and Layla started gently teasing and stroking with her fingers, getting a feel for what Freya responded well to. Freya was exploring Layla in the same way, every so often sending a twitch through Layla’s body with a well-placed rub.

Both girls were aware of the need to work quickly, before the heat of the sauna overwhelmed them. Layla’s body was already beaded with sweat, and as she leaned in to Freya, she could smell Freya’s own sweat mixed in with the smell of excited cock, the lingering traces of piss from the girls who had just left, and the woody smell of the sauna itself. It was a heady but pleasant mixture.

Freya indicated for Layla to lean back, and Layla did, spreading her towel out beneath her on the bench. Freya climbed over Layla on all fours, her boobs hanging like pendulums, and Layla took the girl in one hand and guided her inside.

Her body quivered as Freya started to rock backwards and forwards, in and out. Layla moved her own hips in time, each rhythmic movement a new jolt of feeling. Then Freya was kissing her on the mouth, and their bodies were wrapped around each other, flesh inside flesh, skin on sweaty skin. Layla could feel Freya’s boobs pressed against her own. They moved together, forwards and backwards, slowly at first and then faster and faster, while their breathing came heavier and heavier.

Freya came first, gasping, the ecstasy making her whole body writhe against Layla. That was enough to push Layla up to the peak, a shudder of emotion making her moan. Freya kissed Layla again, before the two of them climbed slowly apart. Both were panting and drenched in sweat.

Layla became aware of just how hot her body had gotten, and how dry the air was in her throat.

“Let’s go … outside …” said Freya, in between gasps.

The cold air was a welcome contrast to the heat of the sauna. At Freya’s insistence, Layla joined her in the cold plunge pool, though only for the two minutes it took her to start shivering.

Then they were floating together in the heated pool, holding hands. Freya brushed some hairs out of Layla’s face. Layla kissed her, and Freya giggled, which made Layla laugh as well. Around them the evening grew dark, the pool lights flickered on, and the snowflakes glinted as they fell.

Layla supposed she might as well actually buy a drink, so she got a coke from the bar at one end of the room, charging it to the electronic wrist-strap reception had given her. She wandered on her own through the complex for a while, eventually finding an empty hot tub to sit in while she sipped her coke. The cold drink on her lips and the hot water up to her chest were a very pleasant combination.

Her mind was going back to the morning that she first arrived in Kaymala. She had arrived at the hostel and checked into the dorm room, where she met Freya. The girl had been naked, and in the middle of being given a handjob by Simon. They had chatted for a few minutes, and then Freya had offered to go down on Layla. It had been amazing.

But it hadn’t happened again. She had hung out with Freya a lot since, and Freya had been very nice, and perhaps even flirty. But she hadn’t propositioned her again, and Layla had always been too nervous to suggest it herself.

A gasp from a nearby recliner distracted Layla from her thoughts. A couple sharing one sunbed were enjoying each other’s company. A man was lying back on the recliner, while a woman sat astride him, both of them writhing and grunting. They were just a few metres from the hot tub where Layla sat, so close that she could hear the sound of lubricated flesh as the woman bounced up and down. Layla watched them until they both climaxed. Afterwards, the man staggered over to the closest wall for a piss, while the woman crouched down at the pool’s edge, splashing water on her pussy to rinse herself out.

Layla realised how turned on she felt. Did she dare masturbate here? There was no reason she shouldn’t, not with what she’d seen other people do. Her hand wandered towards herself. She inserted two fingers, looking nervously around. Some part of her still expected somebody to stop her, to start shouting. When nobody did, she started to rub herself properly. Her eyes wandered across the men and women nearby, following the various curves of their bodies as her fingers worked. A few people noticed her, but nobody reacted negatively.

Just as Layla was getting into the swing of it, she recognised Olivia walking towards her. She pulled her hand out from herself, feeling guilty. It had been a while since she left the group, perhaps they were wondering where she’d gone.

Olivia reached the edge of the hot tub and stepped down into the water, smiling at Layla. Layla expected her to sit down, but instead the girl stopped on the steps with the water up to her knees. After a second she started to piss, her stream splashing noisily across the water. She was aiming away from Layla, who nevertheless moved a bit further from the stream. Looking up at Olivia, with her pierced nipples and tattoos down one side of her muscular body, Layla remembered Freya complaining how unfair it was that Olivia wasn’t interested in girls. Freya had a point, thought Layla.

“Hope you didn’t mind that,” said Olivia, once she had finished. “I was going to piss in the hot tub anyway, and I prefer to stand.” Now she sank into the water, joining Layla on the raised seat so that the water came up to just above her nipples.

“Don’t feel you have to stop jilling because of me,” Olivia added, gesturing towards Layla’s crotch and making Layla blush. “In fact, I’m going to do the same thing.”

Olivia closed her eyes as she leaned back in the water. With the tubs jets it was hard to see what her hands were doing, but Layla thought she knew.

“What did you disappear for, anyway?” Olivia asked, opening one eye to look at Layla.

Layla shrugged, and took a big gulp from her coke to give herself time to think of an answer.

“I just, er, I guess I wanted some time away from -- some time alone.”

Olivia gave her a look that was at once knowing and sympathetic.

In a sudden rush, Layla said, “Olivia, how does … dating work here?”

With a dry laugh, Olivia said, “Well, it’s certainly different. It takes some getting used to.”

For a few seconds, Olivia looked down at her own hands and vagina, concentrating on what she was doing. Layla was still nervous about touching herself in front of her friend, but, well, she was turned on, and what would actually be the problem? She leaned back, copying Olivia’s pose, and started to stroke herself.

“It took me a long time to get used to it when I first arrived,” said Olivia. “Dating, I mean. The sex and pissing was second nature in a few weeks, but … when I first started working at the hostel, there was another guy who worked there that I was into. He was a Kaymalan guy, very sweet, and an absolute bombshell of a body. He liked me just fine as a friend and co-worker, and we fucked a lot, but it was never anything more serious. He also slept with every boy and girl that came through the hostel. Of course I slept with quite a few as well, but it didn’t make it easier watching him do it.”

“What happened in the end?”

“Oh, he moved on to another job, and I was sad for a while. I never told him how I felt, I didn’t want to make things awkward at work. And I was scared he’d stop fucking me. I’ve dated other guys since, and it’s gone much better. I guess the difference with home is …”

Olivia paused as a shudder passed through her body, then continued.

“Back home, you have friends and you have a boyfriend, or girlfriend or whatever, and they’re different people. Whereas here it’s more mixed up. You might fuck your friends. You might do more romantic things with your friends as well. All the lines are blurred. Lots of people do get married, but plenty of others never really settle down, they just keep up these casual relationships all their lives. Or they might settle down with two or three partners at once.”

Layla ran a finger gently over her clit while she considered this. “How do they avoid getting jealous?” she asked.

Olivia laughed. “They seem to have an immunity. Or maybe they think of jealousy in a different way, I don’t know. At one point I was dating a couple of boys at once. I’d meet up with them both a couple of evenings a week. Sometimes one would ask if I could spend more time with him, but they never seemed to resent me seeing the other guy. One guy would tell me if he was going on a hook-up that evening, the other didn’t used to bother. I think I actually got less jealous when I knew he was fucking someone than when I wasn’t sure. I ended up just feeling happy that he was having fun.”

Olivia moved forward, positioning herself above one of the air jets that bubbled up from the base of the hot tub. She moaned softly.

Layla thought it looked like a good idea, and tried to copy her. The jet struck her pussy with such force that it was almost painful. She used her hands to shield herself from the worst of it, and tried a few different positions. In the end she found an angle where the edge of the jet just brushed past her clit, sending electric tingles shooting through her body but not overwhelming her.

“It sounds like you’re pretty used to dating here, then,” said Layla, in between heavy breaths.

“Better than I was, yeah,” agreed Olivia, who was starting to rock back and forth. “The trick … is to talk … about things. Let them know … how you feel. That’s what I did wrong … with the guy I had a crush on.”

From then the conversation became hard to continue. Layla closed her eyes and focused on the knife-sharp pleasure cutting through her body from the jet across her pussy. She had already brought herself half-way to the edge before Olivia arrived, and it didn’t take long before the jet pushed her over the line. She felt a moan break free from her.

As the pleasure began to subside Layla settled back against the wall of the hot tub, feeling her breathing return to normal. She noticed the other, less intense physical pleasures in her body: the relaxation of her arms and legs, and the way the warm water played around her nipples.

She curled up against the side of the tub, drawing her legs in to her chest, and watched Olivia as the other girl brought herself to a climax. Olivia came louder than Layla had done, gasping and moaning. A few heads turned to look in their direction, but nobody reacted beyond a couple of chuckles.

Layla took another sip from her coke, and handed it to Olivia to finish, which the girl did gratefully. Once her heavy breathing had subsided, Olivia looked at Layla and laughed.

“That was refreshing,” she said. “The first orgasm of the day is always the strongest for me. I wasn’t sure if you’d join in.”

“I wasn’t sure either,” said Layla, which made Olivia laugh.

“Let’s wait another few minutes and then go back to the other two,” said Olivia. “They should be out of each other’s pants by then.”

Hi everyone, this is the next episode in my Kaymala series. You can read this series out of order, but you might get more out of this one if you've read the introduction of some of these characters, especially part 7 which introduces Layla and part 8 which introduces Freya. You might also like the previous part. This story contains nonchalent peeing and casual sex in public.

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Layla, Freya, Simon, and Olivia entered the sports centre’s open-plan changing area together and found a bench to share. They were on their way to the spa, which shared a changing area with the rest of the sports centre. There were a number of other people already there, people of all genders getting changed and showering together. Two girls at the next bench across had just come from the gym. One immediately pulled down her shorts and squatted over a drain. The other, to judge by the damp streaks down her leggings, had already taken care of that business.

Layla was nervous. She had been naked in front of her friends only once or twice around the hostel, but she still preferred to wrap a towel around herself on the way back from the shower and often waited until the dorm room was empty before she got dressed. Getting naked in front of so many strangers was another step altogether.

Her friends had no such nerves. Olivia, who was already naked from the waist down, immediately unfastened the sports bra she had been wearing, shaking free two pert boobs with pierced nipples. Simon gave Olivia’s body an appreciative look over -- though he had surely seen it many times -- before unfastening and pulling down his own shorts.

“I see you’re already in the mood,” Freya said to him. She playfully reached out for Simon’s cock, which was erect and now bouncing free. He dodged away.

“I’m sure we can deal with it later,” he said, “one way or another.”

Layla looked away. In the few days that she’d been here she’d found her mind dwelling on Freya more and more. Despite herself, she was starting to feel a twinge of jealousy when Freya flirted with other people, especially Simon. She still hadn’t got used to the fluid way that people worked here, the way the lines between friendship and sexual relationships blurred together. Freya and Simon weren’t a couple in any romantic sense, but they seemed to fuck almost daily. Just that morning, Layla had walked into the hostel’s shower room to find Freya leaning against the tiled wall while Simon entered her from behind. Layla had decided to wait until they’d finished before taking her shower.

Of course, it wasn’t like there was anything special between Simon and Freya. She’d seen and heard Simon and Olivia fucking as well, and she knew all three of them had other friends around the city that they would hook up with regularly.

Layla had only had sex once since she arrived in Kaymala -- with Freya. She wanted it to happen again, but she wasn’t sure how to bring it up.

“Everything okay, Layla?” asked Freya, shaking Layla out of her thoughts. “If you’re nervous about being naked in the spa, you can keep some clothes on. I don’t think anybody will object.”

“I’m okay,” said Layla. She hurriedly started to undress, trying not to show any embarrassment, though she could feel her cheeks turning red. As she pulled down her jeans and boxers, she suddenly wondered what her mother would say if she was here, and had to fight not to laugh.

“Don’t mind me, guys, I’m just gonna take a quick pee,” said Freya, making Layla’s ears perk up. Freya was naked from the waist up, but still wearing her grey, knee-length leggings. She made no move to take them off or step away from the group, but instead just stood with her hands on her hips as a dark spot appeared at her crotch. Layla watched as the glistening wetness spread, first to the left under the force of her stream, then down under gravity until it ran out of fabric, after which a trickle started to run down her leg, over her bare foot and onto the tiled floor. As the girl continued to pump more pee into the shorts, the wet patch started to spread outwards, engulfing the bulge at her crotch, spreading between her legs and up around her backside. Multiple rivulets of piss formed, dripping off her crotch and buttocks as well as trickling down both legs.

“You really needed to go,” said Olivia. “Did you hold it all the time we were climbing?”

Freya shrugged. “I always hold it until the end of a workout. The feeling of release at the end is so good.”

Layla wondered about peeing along with Freya. She certainly had enough pressure in her bladder, but she was nervous, and she decided to wait.

Once all four of the group were naked, they left their bags and clothes in a locker, and picked up towels from a rack before making their way through the doors to the spa area. Layla found herself in a huge, open-plan room, where the air was steamy. The floor was divided into pools of different sizes and temperatures -- some the size of swimming pools, some only large enough for two people, some arranged in concentric circles, some partially walled off in their own booths. At the far wall, large windows looked over more pools outside, steaming in the cold air. Doors on the other walls led to saunas, steam rooms, and massage parlours.

The room was crowded, and everybody was naked. Layla had never seen anything like it. On a raised platform at the centre of one of the circular pools, a woman without a stitch on her was leading some sort of exercise class. A crowd was gathered in the water around her, following the exercises. Other naked people floated along in the lazy river, or lounged in hot tubs, or darted in and out of cold plunge pools. All around there were couples exploring each others bodies, some quietly and surreptitiously, others less so. The room echoed with a babble of talking and laughter, intercut with an occasional high-pitched gasp and moan.

Layla and her friends stepped down into the closest pool. The water was deliciously warm. It swirled around Layla’s vulva as she lowered herself into it, and she felt herself getting goosebumps. Almost unbidden she felt her bladder start to release, and she didn’t fight it. She enjoyed the feeling as her piss flowed freely into the water, with no fabric in the way.

Simon watched her with a smile. “Isn’t skinny dipping so much better?” he said. “I’d never tried it before I came here.”

Simon’s cock was still stood at attention, and looking around, Layla saw that several other people were similarly afflicted. It didn’t seem to bother anybody.

For some time they swam around, trying out different pools, enjoying the stark changes in temperature. There was a cold pool that made all of their nipples stand on end, where they dared each other to jump under the icy waterfall. Layla noticed a man and woman in the corner of the cold pool, deep inside each other and moaning softly. She wondered if the cold made it more enjoyable for them.

They tried out the lazy river, which meandered around the entire complex and carried them along with no need for a pool float. Here too there were couples feeling each other or writhing inside each other as they floated along.

“How are you finding it?” asked Freya, floating up to Layla. “Not too nervous about being naked?”

“I like it,” said Layla. “I was worried at first, but once you’re in the water … it just feels very natural, doesn’t it? And, well --”

She was distracted by a sight from the poolside. A row of loungers were arranged along the water’s edge for people to relax in between pool dips. Many people came here for the whole day. One girl was laying back with her eyes closed, wearing a big set of headphones and, of course, nothing else. As they drifted past her, she opened her legs slightly and pissed, without even opening her eyes. It splashed down onto her towel and from there dripped onto the floor.

“Enjoying the view?” Freya asked, making Layla blush. “I can’t blame you, ogling all the other people is one of my favourite reasons to come here. God, I’m horny. I need someone to jack me off.”

Layla’s heart fluttered, but before she could muster the confidence to say anything, Simon had floated up and put an arm around Freya’s shoulder.

“Oh, I’m so horny,” he said, his voice playfully mocking. “Oh, won’t someone do something to help me?”

“Shut the fuck up, you,” said Freya, giving him gentle tug under the water. “You’re one to talk, you’ve had the horn since we arrived. Are you going to give me a hand or what?”

“I suppose I can help a girl in need,” said Simon. His fingers drifted down her body.

Layla decided she didn’t want to watch the two of them getting off. It was one thing around the hostel bedroom, but for some reason here felt quite different. The jealousy hit much harder than normal. She muttered an excuse about going to buy a drink, and slipped away from her friends.

 

Hi everyone, this is another episode in my Kaymala series. Shorter than usual this time. This isn't a series you need to read in order, but if you want to then you can find part 1 here, or if you want to follow Layla's arc so far you could read part 7, part 8, part 9, and part 10. This story contains nonchalent peeing and nudity.

 

The sports centre complex was a short bus ride from the hostel. As Layla and Simon stepped off the bus, a group of joggers ran past, wrapped in leggings and jumpers against the cold. They followed behind the joggers along a path that led through a small park with trees and flowers, and then to the sprawling sports centre itself.

The group of joggers had finished their run when they reached the sports centre, and were now gathered outside its doors, chatting and doing cool-down exercises. A few were pissing against the wall of the building or squatting on the concrete. It might be that others didn’t seem to want to expose their skin to the cold, because Layla noticed several relieving themselves into their running clothes while they chatted. The woman in charge was handing out water bottles and congratulating the joggers, all the while a dark patch was spreading down the front of her pale leggings.

Layla asked Simon about this, but he just laughed. “I guess they’re about to get changed anyway, so why not?”

The pair of them walked past the joggers and into the sports centre. They were here to visit the spa that was joined on to the sports centre, but first they had to meet up with their friends, Freya and Olivia, who had come down earlier to get some rock climbing in.

The front doors to the complex led into a large, open-plan foyer. On their right, a gallery overlooked a set of indoor tennis courts. Against the left wall was a welcome desk. Beyond a set of turnstiles they could see into a changing area with benches, lockers and showers, but no stalls or dividing walls. Everybody seemed to change out in the open, and to shower in the open, and to piss in the open while they were doing it. Layla watched a woman towel herself off from her shower and walk naked over to a hairdryer that hung from the wall. As she blow-dried her hair and examined herself in the mirror, a shower of piss pattered down her legs and onto the floor. Nearby, a man had taken off his jeans and boxers and was pissing hands-free while he changed his shirt. A girl who was halfway through changing back into her everyday clothes was sitting on one of the slatted benches, her piss pouring through one of the gaps. Her friend, already dressed and waiting for her, laughed and pulled down her shorts to squat beside a drain.

While Simon spoke to the welcome desk, Layla crossed to the gallery overlooking the tennis courts. Some of the tennis players wore shorts and T-shirts, some sports bras and boxers, others were completely naked. For a few minutes she enjoyed watching the breasts and cocks of the naked players bounce as they played. Her attention was particularly drawn to two girls, who both wore T-shirts but were naked below the waist. They were playing intensely and clearly didn’t want to interrupt their game for something as trivial as a bathroom break: between rallies, each girl would take a quick leak where she stood while the other girl ran to retrieve the ball. Elsewhere, another game had less compunctions about breaking for the bathroom. One player said something to his opponent and stepped off the court to piss on the polished floor. His opponent pulled one leg of her tennis shorts aside and pissed standing.

Simon finished at the desk and came over holding two wrist-straps with electronic tags, one of which he passed to her.

“Shall we go find the others?” he said. “And then it’s spa time.”

He led her down some stairs and along a corridor to the rock climbing room, where Freya and Olivia would be. It was a tall room with climbing walls on all four sides, lit by a skylight above. In the centre of the room were a set of benches, where people left their bags and clothes. Two climbers were in the middle of getting changed when Layla walked in. As with the tennis players, some people were climbing with their clothes on -- shorts or leggings, T-shirts or sports bras -- and others without. As she looked up at the people climbing, Layla couldn’t help admiring so many lithe bodies in one place, and so many butts sticking out from the wall, whether they were covered with fabric or not.

They found Freya and Olivia at the far end of the room. Olivia was climbing a patch of wall that overhung in a nerve-inducing way, gripping onto handholds that to Layla looked tiny. She wore a green sports bra, a harness and climbing shoes, but nothing else. Freya was down on the ground, passing the rope through a loop in her own harness. She was dressed as the inverse of Layla, with tight Lycra shorts below the waist but everything above hanging free. She smiled as they approached.

“How’s it going?” Simon asked.

“Pretty good,” said Freya. “Looking forward to getting naked. Working out always turns me on.”

She winked at Layla, making her blush.

Simon laughed. “Well I’m sure we can find a solution to that later.”

“My, what are you suggesting, Simon?” said Freya, her voice sultry. “I wouldn’t want to do anything indecent.”

From above, Olivia’s voice called, “Watch out below!”

Freya took a smart step back. Looking up, Layla saw Olivia taking a break with her feet flat on the wall and her arms free. Olivia adjusted the position of her harness slightly, and a few seconds later, a shower of pee started to fall, splattering on the soft mat below. A foamy puddle formed and slowly soaked into the material.

“Actually, I could do with a leak as well,” said Simon, stepping up to face an unoccupied stretch of climbing wall. Freya seemed to watch him with particular interest as he sprayed the wall and a couple of the low-down handholds. While she was distracted, Layla took the opportunity to ogle her body, eyeing her pert tits, her Lycra-enclosed butt which the harness straps seemed to make more prominent, and the bulge at the front of her shorts.

“Here’s something I wonder about, Layla,” said Freya, and Layla guiltily pretended she hadn’t been staring. “In your country, do you wear clothes to exercise?”

“I mean, yeah,” said Layla.

“No exceptions?

“Unless you do exercise in your own house, I suppose,” said Layla. “I had a friend who used to do yoga naked in her room. She’d mention it when she was drunk and trying to hit on a guy. But we don’t have clothing-optional gyms.”

“Or swimming pools?”

Layla shook her head.

“Weird,” said Freya. “I hate doing exercise in clothes. You get so sweaty, and they restrict your movement.”

“You’re wearing shorts,” Layla pointed out.

“You want me to take them off?” Freya asked, and Layla blushed again. “I only wear these for climbing. These harnesses can be a bit painful on certain parts of the anatomy.”

“What other sports do you do?”

“I like surfing,” said Freya, “and naked surfers sure do look good, but it’s too cold for that right now. They also do volleyball sessions here one evening a week. The four of us should have a volleyball game at some point. Clothing strictly not allowed.”

“Usual forfeit for losing?” said Simon, refastening his flies.

“What is the usual forfeit?” asked Layla.

“Play and find out,” said Freya, winking again. “I promise you the forfeit’s enjoyable whether you’re on the giving or receiving end.”

Olivia made her way back down the wall, and the two girls busied themselves removing their harnesses and ropes. While she waited, Layla looked around the room again. On a different wall, a woman who was completely naked except for her harness had just reached the top of the route. She hung from the top handhold with one hand, while -- as if in celebration -- taking a piss powerful enough to arc forward and hit the wall, using her free hand to pull on her crotch to redirect her aim. Beside the benches, another girl was taking huge gulps from a water bottle while simultaneously pissing full force into her navy shorts, trickles running down her legs and wetting her climbing shoes. Layla wondered if she should take up rock climbing.

“Ready for the spa?” asked Simon.

“Absolutely,” said Layla. She followed her friends out of the room, wondering what a Kaymalan spa would involve.

 

 

Sorry to leave it on a cliff-hanger! I will try to follow up with the spa day, but I wanted to post what I had so far rather than sit on it.

If I take the story further, I think I'd like to explore more than just "Julian can do whatever he likes". Julian is a kinda nasty guy and I'd like to write him getting his come-uppence somehow. But I might not get that far with it, or it might not work out that way in the end ... anyway hope this was enjoyable!

Hi everyone, this is a continuation of the fantasy story about a rich guy who does whatever he wants. You can read the first part here. Like with that one, this deals with a sexual relationship that has a huge power imbalance which might not be to everybody's tastes. It also contains nonchalant peeing, peeing on other people, sex, and exhibitionism.

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Julian awoke and sat up in bed, the luxurious covers falling off him. The light-up clock on the wall told him it was 9:30. He didn’t usually sleep in so late, but he had had a long journey the day before, so he had promised himself a day of relaxation today.

He climbed to his feet and stretched. He always slept naked, finding it quite the most comfortable way to sleep. He had woken up with a full bladder and a throbbing erection, but neither of those particularly bothered him.

He crossed to the French windows and slid back the shutters, letting sunlight stream into the room. Then he pushed the windows and stepped out onto the terrace.

The morning air was cool on his naked body, but not cold. The stone terrace overlooked Julian’s land. Well-groomed lawns stretched away below him, with his private woodland beyond. At this time in the morning there were always a couple of gardeners out mowing the lawns, and today one of the house staff was on the terrace, mopping the dusty stone. Her name was Jade, and she had a nice enough body, but he had to admit she wasn’t one of his favourites in bed. He said good morning to her, and she curtseyed, paying no mind to his nakedness.

As he stood on the terrace, surveying his property, Julian stretched again, reaching his arms into the air; and as he did so, he relaxed his bladder. He smiled as his piss fountained out over the stones, enjoying the relief of the strain, and enjoying too the feeling as the liquid flowed through his erect head.

Once his bladder was empty, the erection started to die down. He took one last look around and turned back into his bedchamber, while Jade carried her bucket and mop over to clean up after him.

Inside his chambers, he pressed the button on the wall to call his manservant, Phillip, and ordered breakfast to his room. He also asked if it could be sent up with one of the girls.

“Who would you like to see, sir?” Phillip asked.

“Surprise me,” said Julian. He climbed back into bed, lying back and enjoying the soft mattress on his aching muscles -- he always ached after a long flight.

Not long later, a girl arrived carrying his breakfast on a tray. She curtseyed and he smiled. Her name was Christine, one of the newer women in his employ. She was blonde-haired and blue-eyed, with a pretty face.

Julian sat up against the headboard of the bed, and Christine placed the tray on a stand over his waist. He tucked into the eggs and bacon, casting his eyes over Christine as he did so. She stood beside the bed, waiting for instructions.

His favourites were the ones who didn’t need to wait for instructions. But no matter, she was new, and everybody had to learn.

“Do you like the uniform?” he asked her as he ate. “I don’t think I’ve seen you in the summer uniform before.”

“I like it just fine, sir,” said Christine.

“It shows your legs off well,” said Julian. Julian glanced down at her legs. In summer the girls wore a much shorter dress; if a strong draught blew there was a danger of revealing their important parts. “You have good legs.”

“I cycle to work, sir,” said Christine.

“But it doesn’t highlight your body very well,” said Julian, eyeing her top half. “You don’t have the chest for it. I think … I think you’d look better without it. Why don’t you take it off? I’d like to remind myself what you look like underneath.”

Christine obligingly took hold of the hem of her skirt and lifted the dress over her head. She wore lacy black underwear beneath, which stood out starkly against her pale skin and highlighted her pert breasts well.

“That’s better,” said Julian. “Come and sit beside me.”

Christine joined him in the large bed, as Julian finished off the last few bites of his food and moved on to the large cup of coffee. After his first sip, he looked at Christine.

“Tell me about your life,” he said. “What have you been doing these weeks that I’ve been away? I want to hear all about it.”

Christine started talking while Julian sipped his coffee. As she spoke, he reached his left hand across to her and down. His fingers found the waistband of her underwear and slipped inside, exploring the cropped hair down there, and then gently working his way deeper inside. Christine kept talking, her words punctured every so often by a gasp or a spasm as he absent-mindedly played with her.

Julian was not paying much attention to what Christine said, more just enjoying the sound of her voice, which had a very pleasant accent. But at one point his ears perked up.

“Boyfriend?” he interrupted. “I didn’t know you had a boyfriend. Tell me about him.”

“I didn’t think you’d want to know,” said Christine. “We’ve been dating a month or two. It’s not really serious yet --”

“What’s he like?”

“Well, he’s tall, good-looking --”

“What’s he fuck like?”

“Oh. He’s … okay, I suppose.”

“My girls deserve better than okay,” said Julian. He ran a gentle finger over her clit, making Christine shudder. “What’s the point if the fucking isn’t good? Why settle for okay?”

“Well, he’s nice in other ways --”

“Does he know about your job yet?” Julian asked. “Does he know about this … situation?”

Christine drew a gasping breath as his fingers passed over her clit again. “No,” she said. “He thinks I’m just a cleaner.”

Julian’s smile widened. “I like that,” he said. “I like that a lot.”

He put his empty coffee cup down on the bedside table. His cock was hard as rock again under the bed covers.

“I think it’s time to get out of bed,” he said. “Stand up, would you?”

Christine stood, and Julian stood close to her. He ran his fingers over the strap of her bra and frowned.

“This looks good from a distance,” he said, “but up close you can tell that it’s very cheap material. Speak to Phillip, he can get you some better quality lingerie. We have a supplier. Now, would you kneel down?”

Christine knelt in front of him. She started to pull his cock towards her mouth, but Julian pushed her hands aside.

“Not yet,” he said.

She looked up at him, surprised.

“All I need from you is to kneel there,” said Julian. His coffee had been percolating down into his bladder, which was getting full again. He took his cock in his hand, aimed down at Christine’s chest, and pissed. He enjoyed watching how the piss poured over her shape, how rivulets ran over her breasts, dampened the black lacy fabric. A few trickles fell from points of her tits to the floor; the rest flowed down her front towards her crotch.

After a few seconds he redirected his flow up towards her face. She closed her eyes as he pissed up into her hair, turning the blond strands dark. Then she tipped her head back and opened her mouth to accept the stream. He kept pissing as it slowly filled up her mouth and overflowed over her chin, to once again pour down over her chest.

After some time Julian’s bladder was empty. Christine swallowed and opened her eyes.

“Now it’s ready for you,” said Julian. Christine took his cock into her mouth and sucked. It didn’t take long before he came. He pulled out of her mouth just before his climax, and again directed his cock down, so that he spurted onto her tits and onto the lacy bra.

“Much obliged,” said Julian. “Always a good start to the morning.”

He wiped himself on the edge of the bedsheets and pulled some clothes on from the wardrobe, while Christine sat dripping in the puddle, catching her breath. Julian started to leave the room, but turned back in the doorway.

“That underwear won’t do you any good now it’s wet,” he said. “I’m sure you can go without for the rest of the day. In fact, I’d like it if you do. And clean up this puddle, would you? I don’t want the room to smell.”

Hi everyone! This is a new story, perhaps a new multi-part story. It's about the fantasy of, basically, being a rich guy who can do whatever he wants. So just a warning - everything is consensual, but there is a big imbalance of power between the characters, which might not be to everyone's taste. The story also contains nonchalent peeing, sex, and exhibitionism.

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It was a gorgeous day in early June, and Cohnfaise House and its grounds glowed prettily in the afternoon light. The drive that wound towards the house was swept clean, the grass was freshly mown, the flowers were in bloom, and the leaves of the trees shone a delicious green. Beyond the parkland, a row of Scottish mountains loomed, yellow and purple with heather. The house itself looked as it always had, with well tended ivy growing up the red brick walls, and the bay windows glinting in the sunlight.

The black BMW glided to a stop outside the house. A smartly-dressed chauffeur stepped out and walked around the car to open the door for his master.

The master’s name was Julian Denue. He was in his early thirties, dressed in a checked shirt and expensive jeans. He stretched and smiled as he looked around at his home.

Julian’s eyes scanned over the beautiful gardens, the house, and the line of servants who were waiting outside to greet him. His gaze lingered approvingly on one or two of the maids, whose summer uniforms fluttered tantalizingly in the breeze.

From the line of servants stepped forward Phillip, Julian’s butler and valet while at the House.

“It’s good to see you again, sir,” said Phillip. “I hope your journey was comfortable?”

“Oh, comfortable enough. Sam here does an excellent job,” said Julian, gesturing at the chauffeur who was stood primly by the car. “But it is a dreadfully long time to be stuck in one’s seat, not able to stretch your legs or relieve yourself. Excuse me a moment.”

As he said this, he turned to face the car, his back to the line of servants, and pissed against the car door. His stream was clear and powerful, a sign of how long he had been holding it in through the journey. Flecks of urine sprayed over the entire door, peppering the tinted window, while rivers poured down over the black metal and dripped onto the gravel driveway below.

The chauffeur and valet watched this display with no change to their expressions, as did the line of maids behind them. It was nothing they hadn’t seen before. When you worked for the Denue family, you knew what the job entailed, and the pay was handsome for it.

“Ah, I needed that,” said Julian, refastening his trousers as he turned back to face Phillip and the other staff. “Didn’t have a chance to piss since we left Edinburgh. It’s good to be home again.”

Sam the chauffeur held out a handkerchief for Julian to wipe his hands on.

Julian walked towards the house, smiling at the line of servants as he passed, and winking at one or two of his favourite girls. Julian was the youngest of the Denue family, and the only one to still consider the house his home. It was several years since his parents had taken up full-time residence at their Spanish villa, and his sister had emigrated to Dubai almost a decade ago. As Julian himself was often away on business trips for weeks at a time, the house often sat empty apart from the staff.

“Would you like something to drink, sir? Perhaps a cup of tea?” Phillip asked, as they reached the top of the steps. Phillip had deftly walked the steps slightly faster than Julian so as to reach the top first and hold the door open for him.

“Not tea,” said Julian. “A cold beer, maybe. I’m going to hit the pool. Send a few beers and a change of clothes over in, say, twenty minutes. And maybe …”

Julian paused in the doorway to look down at the line of maids outside, all of whom looked back up at him. He contemplated them for a few seconds.

“… you might ask Emma to bring them up,” he said, and one of the girls below beamed.

 

Julian kicked off his shoes as he entered the pool room, and the rest of his clothes quickly followed. As soon as he was naked he jumped into the pool, relishing the cool water against his bare skin. He always felt dirty after a long plane journey, and a long soak in the pool was the perfect cure.

The pool room was a modern extension behind the house. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined three walls, giving gorgeous views over the terrace, the lawn and the parkland beyond. There were a couple of gardeners tending the roses not too far away, but Julian wasn’t worried about what they might see.

After swimming a few lengths to get his blood flowing again, Julian transferred himself to the hot tub. Clearly Phillip had predicted what Julian would want, because the tub had been heated up in preparation for his arrival.

Julian sank back into the hot water, stretching his legs out, almost gasping in pleasure. The warmth was exquisitely pleasurable, especially around his cock.

He realised there was still some pressure in his bladder and immediately released it, enjoying the feeling of the piss drifting over his legs as it dispersed into the water.

He was already getting excited in anticipation of Emma’s arrival. He had been away for two long weeks, with no time to spare for company of that kind.

As he soaked in the hot tub, Julian’s eyes drifted to the gardeners outside tending the rosebushes. One was a woman in her early twenties, and she caught his attention. She wore shorts and a cotton polo shirt that clung tight in certain places, her hair was tied back in a pony tail, and her pretty face was flushed from working in the heat. It was an unassuming look, but he suspected that a rather nice body hid behind it. Julian didn’t recognise her. He had had most of the house staff but only a few of the gardeners. He made a mental note to ask Phillip about this girl; perhaps she would be interested in earning herself a tidy bonus.

With a knock at the pool room door, Emma announced herself, entering the room with a tray containing a set of clean clothes and an ice bucket of cold beers.

As always, she was a sight for sore eyes. She was one of the tallest girls in the house, so tall that her uniform -- the traditional black dress with a white apron -- barely reached her mid-thighs. Her legs were shapely and slightly bronzed, and although thin, she had a shapely chest and backside. She wore round, thick-framed glasses, her face was slightly freckled, her dark hair tied back. As she bent over to place the tray on one of the stone benches nearby, her skirt rode up, giving Julian the briefest glimpse of the curve of one buttock.

Straightening up, Emma took one of the beers and deftly opened it against the side of the bucket before carrying it over to Julian. He laid back against the edge of the hot tub, making no move to close his legs or cover himself up, despite the fact that his body was making very clear the excitement he felt at the sight of her. Her eyes slipped down, eyeing him as eagerly as he was eyeing her.

“Welcome back, sir.”

Julian took a sip from the cold beer and sighed in relief. He met Emma’s gaze.

“Perhaps you might join me,” he said.

She smiled and went to take a beer for herself as well. Her hands went to the buttons on her dress, but Julian called out:

“Leave the uniform on, if you don’t mind. I rather like it.”

Emma’s smile got wider. She stepped one leg and then the other over the side of the hot tub, in a way that made her skirt ride up, almost -- but not quite -- revealing everything. Standing in the water, she made to lower herself into it, but then she hesitated and looked away into the distance. A moment later it became clear what she was doing: a tinkling sound came from the water between her feet, as a clear stream of liquid trickled down from inside her skirt.

Julian almost squirmed with pleasure. Yes, Emma knew what he liked. The other girls would go along with Julian’s “eccentricities” if he proposed it, but Emma was the only one who enjoyed it as much as he did.

“Hope you don’t mind, sir,” Emma said, over the continued splashing. “I’ve just not had a chance to go for a couple of hours, we were so busy getting ready for you arriving, and I was getting desperate.”

“Ah, so it’s my fault, is it?” said Julian with a chuckle, admiring the sight.

“In a manner of speaking, sir,” said Emma. She knew the effect she had on him and she was enjoying it.

After a minute her stream petered out, and she sank down into the water opposite Julian, her dress floating slightly in the water. Her bare legs brushed against his.

“How was your trip?” she asked him, taking a slug of beer.

“Long, and boring,” said Julian. “Day after day of tedious meetings in arse-end-of-nowhere USA, trying to action some plan of my father’s that I’m sure will only fall through in a few years. The whole thing was dry and deeply unsexy. Made me ache for some attractive company, and I couldn’t find a prostitute for love nor money in the whole town. Then an eight-hour flight and a three-hour drive, and here I sit before you, a starving man staring at his favourite meal.”

“Your favourite meal?” said Emma. “Please, I hope I’m worth more than that.”

“My dearest Emma, you are worth more than anything.”

Emma took another swig from her drink. “You know, I’d love to go to America,” she said.

“You never have?”

“I went on a hen do to Ibiza once, but that was the only time I’ve been abroad.”

“Well, next time I travel, why don’t I bring you with me?” said Julian.

Emma gave him a wide-eyed look. “You mean it?”

“Of course. As long as your … boyfriend … wouldn’t object?”

“I don’t see what his opinion’s got to do with anything,” said Emma.

“Then it’s settled. I can cover your flights and a hotel room. Nothing asked for in exchange, except the pleasures of your company.”

Emma smirked, fastened her lips around the rim of her beer bottle, and swallowed some more.

The water was starting to soak up through her dress now. The white apron was becoming transparent, and the wet dress underneath clung tightly around her tits. Her hair was damp by now as well, something Julian found unspeakably sexy. Looking at her, Julian could feel his cock straining as the warm water lapped around them.

“It’s been too long,” he said. “I’m close to bursting just at the sight of you.”

“We can solve that,” said Emma, smiling.

“When was your last time?” he asked her. “With your boyfriend, I mean?”

“Not long ago,” she said. “Two nights. But you do it better, you know that.”

He reached out and put his hand on the outside of her leg, sliding it slowly up until it was under her dress. There was no underwear down there, for which he gave her an approving look.

“I knew you were coming home today,” Emma said.

“You didn’t know I would ask for you this evening,” he said. “I could have chosen any of the girls.”

Emma laughed. “Sir, please. Who else were you going to choose?”

She glanced out of the window, to where the two gardeners were still tending the rose bushes. Julian was not sure if the gardeners could see inside or not, but he hoped they could.

“Come closer,” said Julian. Emma moved forward onto his lap. His hand explored further into her skirt, feeling the curve of her right buttock, his fingers finding her arsehole. Playing with it made her giggle. With his other hand he moved higher, wandering up her stomach to where the wet fabric hugged her round breasts.

He wanted to see them. He found the strings that tied her apron and pulled until they were loose. Realising what he wanted, Emma pulled the apron up over her head and threw it to one side. She started to undo the buttons down the front of her dress, pausing after each one to give Julian a coy smile. Every few seconds she would squirm as the fingers of his other hand continued their exploration.

At long last the dress was undone to her waist, and he eagerly pulled it open as she shrugged her arms out of the sleeves. He took a second to admire her, the pale skin of her shoulders, the black bra that held her breasts in. The bra unclasped easily under his fingers, and the breasts bounced free. Emma squirmed again as Julian’s fingers crept deeper, and he drank in the sight of her, the way they jiggled with her movements.

“Kneel down,” he said.

Emma glanced again at the gardeners outside as she knelt in the water. The attractive young one had definitely noticed them, and kept shooting looks at them while clearly trying not to stare. Julian smiled to himself as he rose to his feet, standing side-on to the gardener, giving her a view of everything.

The water was waist-high on Emma as she knelt on the bottom of the tub, and came up to Julian’s thighs with him standing. The beer had gone through him quickly, as he had hoped it would, and his bladder was quickly filling up. Now he pissed on Emma’s tits, aiming first for the left nipple, then switching to the right. His piss sprayed out from where it landed, soaking her chest before dripping down into the water. She pulled a face as droplets flecked her glasses. Julian chuckled and aimed his stream higher, letting it spray across her face as she closed her eyes and mouth and tipped her head backwards. Rivulets ran down through her hair. After a few seconds she opened her mouth, catching the stream, letting it pool there until her mouth was full and overflowing.

He cut off the stream as his bladder emptied. Emma swallowed and blinked her eyes open, dipping her glasses in the water to clean them.

Julian sank back into the water. He looked over again at the pretty gardener, wondering if she was enjoying the show.

As always, Emma knew what he wanted. As soon as he had taken a seat, she moved in close. Her dress was still around her waist, but he lifted the skirt aside to give himself access. She wrapped her arms and legs around his body and sank down, easing herself into position with him inside her. Her face was right in front of his, and he kissed her, tasting his salt on her lips.

She leaned in to him, pressing her chest against his as she began to writhe up and down. Faster and faster she moved, and he began to move with her, thrusting and ebbing in time with her rhythm, as they both gasped and grunted.

It couldn’t have taken more than five minutes before he reached his peak. He spaffed inside her with a pleasurable moan. In the time they’d been going at it some more piss had built up in his bladder, so he pushed out a few spurts of piss into her for good measure. Emma continued to thrust onto him for a few seconds more, until she too reached a shuddering climax.

Gasping for breath, she pulled away from him. He watched the cloud of spunk slowly spread out into the water as her cunt lifted free of his cock.

He kissed her on the forehead. “Always a good time with you, Emma,” he said.

He got to his feet and crossed to the windows, his cock starting to soften. That pretty gardener was still outside, pretending not to look at the window. Yes, he would have to ask Phillip about her. A face and body like that were wasted on gardening alone.

For now, though, he thought it was time for a nap. He dressed in the clean clothes that Emma had brought, as Emma lay back and stretched out in the hot tub, her tits floating to the water’s surface. She had discarded the drenched black dress, which now lay in a heap on the floor. She didn’t seem to care about the piss and cum in the water. Yes, there was nobody else quite like her in the house.

He wondered vaguely if she had a dry change of clothes in the house. Well, some could probably be found for her; that wasn’t his problem.

“When you’re done in that hot tub, ask Phillip about changing the water over, would you?” he said. “I’d like it cleaned before I next use it.”

And with that he left, leaving her to soak in the dirty water.

Hi everyone, here with another Kaymala story. This carries on pretty directly from the shopping trip in the previous chapter, which I thought I posted recently but it turns out it was two months ago (what does time mean during lockdown?). Hope you're all keeping well. This isn't a series you need to read in order, but in case you want to part 1 is here, or if you want to follow Layla's arc so far you could read part 7, part 8, and part 9. This story contains nonchalant peeing, peeing in public, sex and nudity.

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The coffee shop was down on the ground floor of the mall, with a big, welcoming glass front. A row of customers on high stools sat facing the glass, with laptops or books perched on a narrow ledge. As Layla approached, she noticed one of these women spread her legs wide. The woman wore a short skirt with no underwear, and while she holding her book open with one hand, her other went down to her shaved vagina and spread her lips. A moment later, a clear stream of piss showered against the glass.

Layla stopped, staring at the way the stuff ran down the glass pane, at the way spots of reflected light danced on the girl’s bare legs. The piss ran down into a drain at the bottom of the window. The entire time, the woman didn’t take her eyes off the book she was reading, as though pissing in a cafe was as commonplace a thing to do as taking another sip of coffee.

Freya paused to look where Layla was looking, and gave the pissing girl an appreciative look over.

“Nice legs,” she commented to Layla. Layla blushed.

“I suppose I shouldn’t stare,” she said.

Freya shrugged. “Why not? I don’t think she minds.”

They made their way inside. Layla’s attention was immediately caught by a low moan that cut through the usual coffee shop hubbub. It came from two men who had a table in a corner. One man sat in an armchair with his trousers down, while the other knelt in front of him, running his mouth up and down the first man’s cock. Around them were couples resting from their shopping, friends nattering over coffee, and people reading books and newspapers -- people doing mundane things. Every so often someone would look over and smirk when a particularly loud moan came from the two men, but otherwise they acted for all the world as though nobody was having a blowjob within ten metres of them.

Freya had walked on ahead and found their friends, and she waved Layla over. Simon and Olivia had found a table for four, with soft, vinyl armchairs.

“I see you’ve been shopping,” said Simon, eyeing Layla’s new skirt. Layla blushed and looked down to make sure the flap at the front hung closed.

“What have you been doing?” asked Freya.

“We bought a couple of things for the hostel,” said Olivia. “New bedsheets, we wear through them quickly. And we had to go to the post office to sign a couple of forms.”

“We stood in line there for ages,” said Simon.

“I didn’t mind it,” said Olivia, smiling.

“There was a hot guy ahead in the queue,” said Simon. “Olivia was quite taken with him.”

“Not just hot,” said Olivia, “naked and hot. Very firm ass, he let me feel it. I thought he was into me.”

“You should have offered to fuck him,” said Freya.

“She did,” said Simon. “He said thanks, but he was busy.”

“He had such a great cock, as well,” said Olivia. “I wanted it inside of me.”

As she said this she leaned back in her chair, pulling her short dress up to her waist and spreading her bronze legs. Her stream of piss sprayed forwards, showering the floor under the table.

Freya and Layla went over to the counter to order. They joined a queue behind a blonde woman. As they reached her, she pulled her jeans and underwear down to her knees, revealing a rather full backside, and sank into a squat beside the counter. With one hand she held her jeans out of the way of her stream, which arced forwards and down to the wooden floor. Almost as soon as she started pissing, the barista leaned over the bar to ask her order. The pissing woman ordered a skinny latte, and the barista went about preparing it while the woman finished off. The barista reappeared to hand the woman a paper napkin which the woman gratefully used to wipe herself off before tossing it into a nearby bin.

When the blonde woman had taken her latte back to her table, the barista smiled at Layla and said something in Kaymalan. The barista was a short girl, with mousy hair and thick-rimmed glasses. Freya replied to her in the same language, then said in English, “My friend here is new to Kaymala. She arrived only yesterday.”

“Wow, you’re a tourist?” said the barista, giving Layla a big smile. “I hope you’ve been made welcome.”

“Very much, thank you,” said Layla politely. The barista met Freya’s eyes and both laughed. Layla blushed -- had she misunderstood something?

The girl busied herself making their drinks. “Will you do something around here this afternoon?” she asked as she worked.

“We might go to the cinema,” said Freya, “if there’s something good to see.”

“I recommend The Woman from Sukupoli,” said the barista. “It’s sort of a rom-com, I saw it last week. Here.”

She scribbled a phone number on their receipt and leant over the counter towards Layla.

“My shift ends at four,” she said. “If you want to be made welcome again, come find me.” She winked.

Layla thought she had a good idea what it meant to be “made welcome”, but she checked with Freya as they walked back to their table.

“Yes, she was offering to fuck you,” said Freya, chuckling. “Why don’t you go for it? Baristas, waiters, bartenders … they meet a lot of people, and they tend to have a lot of sex. She’ll probably be great at it.”

“Hmm,” said Layla.

Layla looked around at another moan from the couple in the corner, just in time to see the man in the armchair shudder and then relax. His partner stood up, panting, and wiped his mouth on a napkin before slumping into another chair. A few people nearby glanced around and smiled, but there was no other reaction from the other diners.

Back at the table, the four of them discussed what to do with their afternoon, and decided to check out the film that the barista had suggested. They finished their coffees and got up to leave, pausing only for Simon and Freya to take a leak against the nearby wall.

As they walked through the mall, Layla’s eyes were drawn to the fountain at the centre of the floor. At first she had thought it was some abstract modern art, but now she realised the shapes were two naked people, a man and a woman, in an unusual position. The man held the woman upside down, her legs splayed as though doing the splits above his head. Water fountained up from between the woman’s legs and poured down over the couple, while a second stream sprayed upwards from the man’s penis and onto the woman’s breasts before trickling down over her face.

Several people were sitting on the low wall around the fountain, bags of shopping at their feet. As Layla watched, a man walked up and pissed right into the water. A young woman sat only a metre away from him looked around curiously, but seemed to have no objection.

At the far end of the mall they passed through a set of glass doors and into the cinema lobby, which was darker and shabbier than the rest of the complex. Simon collected their tickets from a machine, they all bought drinks, and they passed by an attendant and into a wide corridor from which theatre rooms branched.

There was a door on this corridor signed toilets, but it didn’t seem to see much use. Instead the gutters that ran down both sides of the corridor, and the walls that were tiled up to waist height, glistened with wetness. Groups of people drifted along until they found their screen number, and paused to relieve themselves before going inside. Layla saw one girl walk out of a nearby theatre -- the sounds of some action movie blaring through the doors before they swung shut -- and saw her step a few paces away from the door, pull her jeans down and squat in the middle of the floor. A minute later she rose to her feet again and headed back inside the theatre.

They found screen five. Layla did need to pee, being the only one who hadn’t done so back at the cafe. Freya waited with her while the other two went inside to claim good seats. Layla was still nervous about peeing in public, but she didn’t want to be the only person to chicken out and use the toilets. A little hesitantly, she pulled up her skirt and sank into a squat by the drain. Her pee started off as a nervous trickle, then got steadily stronger. She liked the sound it made on the tiled floor. None of the people walking past paid her any mind, of course.

They went into the theatre, which was still playing adverts. Layla realised it wasn’t only the corridor outside that was used as a toilet. Just inside the doors was a girl in a high squat while her boyfriend held their drinks. Two more women were in low squats in the aisle that led up through the tiered seating, their pee dripping down over several steps before being caught in a drainage channel. And over there, a man had stood up from his chair to piss against the back of the chair in front. The sound of all these streams was drowned out by the sounds of the adverts.

Layla and Freya took their seats. As in so many places in Kaymala, the seats here were covered in waterproof vinyl rather than absorbent fabric. A few minutes later, two girls took the seats next to Layla. As they put down their bags one said something to the other, who seemed to agree, and then they both squatted on the floor and pissed.

Not long after this the adverts finished. The room was quiet apart from the pattering of a few last minute piss streams.

The film started with a sex scene, which shouldn’t have surprised Layla. It wasn’t as coy as the British or American films she’d seen -- nothing was hidden beneath bedclothes. Once the couple had finished their morning sex, the camera followed the young woman as she went through to the kitchen to make coffee, as she did a standing piss in the middle of the floor while waiting for the coffee to finish, and then as she gathered up her clothes ready to leave -- the boy she’d been fucking said ‘call me’ as she left, and she simply smiled. The dialogue was in Kaymalan, but subtitled into English so Layla could follow along.

After this introduction the story proper began. The girl apparently worked as a journalist, and her boss told her she had a special article to write -- a piece about life in some rural town in Sweden (Kaymala’s closest neighbour). The girl said she’d never left Kaymala before, but was happy to give it a try. She asked if she was staying in a hotel, and the boss said no, but … accommodation had been arranged.

It turned out the girl would be lodging with a Swedish family -- a fairly conservative, Lutheran family. She got off on very much the wrong foot with them by pissing in the corner of the dining room during dinner on her first evening, and by coming down to breakfast without a shirt on the next morning. She didn’t seem to understand why the Swedish family thought this was strange.

The film went on like this, with various hijinks arising from cultural misunderstandings between the girl and her hosts. The parents of the family seemed to take a strong dislike to the girl, but their grown-up son was quite taken with her, and soon the two were fucking each other wherever they could, out in the woods, in her room, in his car. Of course this led to more hijinks, as she didn’t understand the need to keep it secret from his parents, and once they found out more trouble ensued.

At this point Layla was distracted from the film by the girl in the seat next to her, who had slid down to crouch over the floor. The tinkling sound of her peeing on the plastic surface, still wet from her previous piss, was just audible in between the dialogue from the movie. The girl’s friend made some joke to her in an undertone, and the peeing girl giggled.

Back in the movie, the plot was moving on. From the son during one of their trysts, the Kaymalan visitor learned that the middle-aged father was much less prim and proper than he appeared -- in fact he was having an affair with a woman he worked with, and on his business trips to the city he made regular visits to several strip clubs. This gave the girl an idea. The next time the mother of the family was out of the house, the girl took a shower, and then -- still wet and with a towel wrapped only around her waist -- knocked on the door of the father’s room, under the pretext of asking where she could find more shampoo. It worked and they ended up fucking each other in his bed. Afterwards, while they lay in bed together, she started asking him questions about his life, and then she asked -- why didn’t he tell his wife about the affairs and strip clubs? Was he ashamed? Of course he didn’t take kindly to this, and told her to pack her bags -- one day more in the house and then she would have to leave.

On the girl’s last night, the mother of the family invited her to use the family’s outdoor hot-tub. Both father and son were not speaking to the girl any more, so it was just the two of them, the mother in a one-piece swimsuit and the girl naked, despite the mother’s protestations. As they sat there, drinking wine, the mother made a confession to the girl. Sometimes, she said, when I’m out here alone I pee in the water. Is that bad?

The girl said that of course it wasn’t, and the mother said, sometimes, she wonders if her husband does as well, and in fact she hopes he does. The girl asked her, do you want to know how it feels to have somebody pee on you? And the mother said, yes, I think I do. So the girl straddled her right there in the hot-tub and pissed on her swimsuit-covered chest, and then the two of them fucked each other in the water.

Layla had never seen a sex scene between two women on film before, or at least not one that was made well. It made her realise how little she knew, and how much she wanted to know. She noticed movement from the seat beside her and saw that Freya had a hand down the front of her own jeans, and was clearly fondling herself as she watched the film. Glancing along the row, she saw that several other men and women were doing the same thing as the moans from the couple on-screen became more intense.

Once the two women in the film had finished, they both lay back in their hot-tub. The girl said to the mother that she should tell her husband about her piss fetish, that he might be willing to try it. The mother said, oh no, I could never tell anyone. What would he think of me?

The next day the taxi arrived to take the girl to the airport. Before she left, she kissed each of the family members in turn on the mouth. She left them awkwardly avoiding each other’s gaze as she climbed into the taxi.

It was clear the film was wrapping up, but Layla was becoming aware of the pressure in her bladder. The coffee before the film and the coke she had been drinking throughout were making their presence known. If she was back in England she would hold it and hope the film ended quickly -- but there was no need to hold it here, was there? Layla shifted forward in her chair, pulling up her skirt as she did so that her bare ass cheeks were on the warm vinyl. She glanced around to check whether anyone was watching, and then let the piss flow. Her stream arched forwards, off the edge of the chair and onto the floor. Freya glanced around at the noise and gave Layla a smile.

On the screen, the film was coming to a close. It ended with the Kaymalan girl on the plane home -- with her shirt off because it was a Kaymalan Airways flight -- writing up her article on her laptop. A voice-over started, narrating the contents of the article. The girl said that she had enjoyed her trip and the fascinating insights it gave her. She talked about people hiding their feelings or desires because of shame or because of other people’s expectations, but that didn’t make those feelings go away. Meanwhile the screen showed a montage of the son, walking in the woods at the same spot that he and the girl had first had sex; it showed the father going back to his strip club; it showed the mother, masturbating alone in the hot tub. The montage cut back to the girl on the plane, but now she had put her laptop away and was fucking a stranger who was sat next to her, while the voice-over said that she had enjoyed her trip, but she was glad to be home.

The credits rolled, and one-by-one the audience got out of their seats and stretched. Some made their way straight for the doors, others took some time to relieve their full bladders first. The girls beside Layla -- who Layla noticed had got through a large coke each -- were both squatting in front of their chairs again. Layla looked to her other side, past Freya, and saw Simon and Olivia both leaning back in their chairs, him with his cock out and her with her skirt pulled up, both pissing powerful streams against the backs of the chairs in front of them. Trapped with pissers on both sides, Freya shrugged, undid her own trousers and turned to face her own chair, pissing against the vinyl cushion on its backrest and watching the stream trickle down the cushion and dribble out of sight beneath the chair.

Once free they meandered their way towards the doors, sidestepping around the various people who had stopped to piss in the aisle. Outside the doors there was another crowd made up of people squatting just to the side of the doors or pissing against the wall opposite. The floor in the corridor was soaked, but Layla supposed it was like this every time a film finished.

“It’s about four o’clock, by the way,” said Freya as they stepped, blinking, into the light of the mall’s main floor. “Your friend the barista will be just finishing her shift. Are you gonna call her?”

“I don’t know,” said Layla nervously, “should I?”

Freya laughed. “I don’t know why you’re asking me, but I know what I would say if she’d offered me a booty call.”

Layla looked around the mall floor, her eyes drawn to the fountain of the two lovers in the centre of the floor. Now the wall around it was occupied by a real-life couple of lovers, a young woman perched on the wall with her skirt rolled up around her waist and a young man with his trousers down thrusting in between her legs. As always around here, none of the passers-by paid them any attention. Layla thought of that sex scene between the two women on the film they had just watched, and how it had made her feel.

“Yeah,” she said, smiling. “I’ll give her a call.”

Hi folks, here with another Kaymala story. This isn't really a series you need to read from the start, but if you want to, you can find the first episode here, or the first introductions of Layla in part 7 and Freya in part 8. This story contains nonchalent peeing and peeing in naughty places, as well as sex and nudity.

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The tram pulled up to its platform, and its passengers unloaded into the misty morning air. Across the road was the Kusti shopping mall, the largest in the country. Its glass front made a promise of the light and warmth inside. Most of the passengers hurried inside.

Layla held back, watching with interest a couple of men who had disembarked just before her. She supposed they had been crossing their legs inside the tram, not wanting the inconvenience of peeing in the crowded space. Now, as soon as they were in the open air, they turned, unzipped, and relieved themselves against the side of the tram. Apart from Layla, the disembarking crowd barely glanced at them, even as they walked through the wisps of steam rising from each man’s piss-stream.

With a pneumatic hiss, the tram doors closed and it pulled away. One of the men was still pissing -- he took a sharp step backwards as the vehicle began moving, not quite avoiding being splashed. His friend chuckled.

Layla made her way into the shopping mall, catching up with her friends just inside the doors. Almost as soon as she was inside she started sweating, and realised why nobody else was dressed for the winter weather. Kaymalan people liked to keep their buildings hot, and inside the mall it was as hot as summer.

“You can leave your coat here,” said her friend Simon, guiding Layla over to a cloakroom by the doors. She gladly handed her coat to the person behind the counter, paying a couple of kroner.

Now that she was inside, Layla looked around the mall. The whole building was circular. A gallery encircled each level, and looking out over the railing, Layla saw one floor below them and at least three floors above. Escalators carried shoppers between floors.

And despite the weather outside, everybody here was dressed for summer. Layla saw crop tops, shorts, miniskirts, and -- since it was Kaymala -- a few people of all genders casually walking around topless, and one or two who were completely naked. After months of winter in London, where everybody was bundled up in thick coats, it was a liberating feeling to see so many people dressed (or indeed undressed) so freely.

Layla’s friends too were dressed for the heat. Olivia wore a green dress that just barely covered the key areas. She had worn leggings for the journey, but slipped them into her bag as they entered the mall. Freya wore jeans and a hoodie, but now that they were inside she let the hoodie hang open, showing her boobs to the world. Simon wore shorts and a t-shirt. Layla was starting to feel over-dressed.

“Wait for me a second, would you?” asked Simon. He stepped up to the waist-high glass barrier that overlooked the floor below, undoing his flies as he did so.

Looking around, Layla saw he was far from the only person to make use of the conveniently-placed half-wall. She could see at least a dozen people peeing against it. She was intrigued to watch the people on the far side of the gallery, who were facing towards her, their piss running down the glass between them. And it was not just guys, but several women had also lifted skirts or dropped trousers to standing-pee against the glass, while many more were squatting beside it.

Layla noticed now that there was a drain running around the edge of the gallery, collecting Simon’s piss and that of everyone else relieving themselves against the barrier. It seemed to be the way Kaymalan public spaces worked -- not many bathrooms, but lots of drains in the places people were most likely to pee.

A loud moan from somewhere above cut through the hubbub. Layla looked up, and saw, up on the top floor of the mall, a woman bent over against the railing, while a man entered her from behind. She moaned again as he thrust against her.

Simon, who was just fastening his flies, looked up and chuckled. “Every time I come here there’s a couple screwing up there,” he said. “People just can’t resist it.”

The four of them rode the escalator up to the next floor. Layla stood behind her friend Olivia, and watched with interest as the girl lifted her skirt above her waist, showing her tanned behind, and pissed straight down. Her piss splattered on the steel steps of the escalator, before trickling away through the gaps between the steps and into the mechanism of the escalator. With practised timing, Olivia finished up just as they reached the top of the escalator.

At the next floor they split up. Olivia and Simon had some errands to run for the hostel, while Freya said she would take Layla around some of the clothes shops. Layla was trying not to stare at Freya’s cleavage, which was visible through her open hoodie -- and the hoodie swayed as she walked, occasionally slipping so that one tit was completely on display. Freya didn’t seem to mind when this happened, pulling the hoodie back into place with a casual shrug.

She led Layla to a store that she said was one of her favourite chains, and a smiling clerk welcomed them inside.

Layla was surprised to see two women in the very first aisle of clothes, right by the window. One was stripping off her clothes, while her friend leant against the nearby shelves and chatted to her. Once she was down to just her underwear, the girl took a dress from a rack nearby and slipped it on, admiring the look in a nearby mirror. Looking around the store, Layla could see other people in similar states of undress trying on the clothes on display. Mirrors, tables and benches seemed to have been placed around the store for such a purpose.

“Do people not use changing rooms here?” she wondered.

“What’s that?” said Freya, who had walked on ahead. Layla hurried to catch up with her.

Walking further into the store, she also noticed several patches of walls left deliberately empty. The walls there were tiled, and had drains underneath. Layla had an idea what these were for, an idea that was proved right as she watched a man who was getting trying on clothes nearby.

He had stripped off both his trousers and his underwear in order to try on a pair of swimming trunks, but before he could put them on his phone rang. As he chatted with the phone held to his ear, he took a couple of steps over towards one of those tiled patches of wall and pissed, hands free, spraying both the wall and the floor beside it. A shopping attendant who walked past paid him no mind, except for eyeing his bare backside.

Looking further along Layla saw two girls squatting by another of these patches of wall, happily chattering away with their jeans around their ankles, while two trickles of piss ran along the sloping floor to the drain.

Freya noticed what Layla was looking at and laughed. “You know, I worked in a clothes store when I was a teenager,” she said. “I grew up in a small town place, quite different to here. The manager was a stingy guy, he didn’t want to pay to put all this drainage in place. So he just put up signs all over the store, you know, ‘We are unable to provide drainage and politely ask customers to step outside the store to relieve themselves.’”

“What happened?” asked Layla.

“Oh, everyone ignored the signs. Some people just pissed on the floor like usual and maybe didn’t notice there were no drains. Other people pissed in all the hidden corners of the store, behind clothes racks, you know, sometimes even on the clothes. What else were they gonna do, step out into the cold winter air and pull their pants down? After a couple of months the manager had to give in and pay a plumber to put drains in, plus hire in an army of cleaners to get rid of the smell.”

“Did you have to tell people off for peeing in the wrong places?”

Freya laughed. “We were supposed to, but we didn’t care, did we? We were annoyed by the lack of toilets as well. We had great fun finding places we could piss without the manager noticing. We used to take turns to say, ‘I’m just going to tidy the shelves for a bit,’ which was our code to say we needed to piss. My favourite was to get my cock out and then pretend to be straightening out a clothes rack or something while I secretly pissed underneath it. Another girl found a place where there were two display tables with a few centimetres gap between them. She’d sit up on the table over the gap -- she always wore a skirt -- and she’d act like she was folding the clothes on the display table while she pissed away down the gap.”

“Your childhood was very different to mine,” said Layla. “If I’d done that sort of thing, the trouble I’d have been in … my mum wouldn’t let me get a job even, in case there were boys working there.”

“She should have been more worried about the girls,” said Freya. “I lost my virginity to that girl with the skirt, in the staff break room. The manager walked in on us, and yelled at us for taking too long on our break.”

“Did you know you were trans?”

“I knew, but it was early days, right? I was still working out what it meant to me. Well, maybe I still am working that out, who knows. Oh, hey, let me take a look down here.”

She wandered down the underwear aisle. There was one other person here: a topless woman pulling bras off the shelf one by one and holding them to her chest. Freya pulled out something lacy and held it up for Layla to see.

“What do you think?” she said. “Is the bare boobs under the hoodie a good look, or would it be sexier with the bra on?”

Layla blushed. “I don’t know. The bra’s nice, but … I guess I like the look you have already. It’s very casual.”

“Just casual, or casual yet sexy?” said Freya.

“The second one.”

Layla was blushing even harder, and Freya laughed.

“Casual yet sexy is the look I strive for,” she said. “All right, no bra. Come on, let’s find something for you.”

A shopping attendant smiled at them as she passed, and Layla couldn’t help staring. The woman was wearing an ankle-length skirt. The skirt had a split that went all the way up to the waistband, allowing it to hang open and reveal -- well, everything that was inside. As the woman walked, the skirt opened and closed, giving them flashes of the shaved pussy beneath. Layla was taken. It gave the appearance of modesty, while hiding nothing.

Freya noticed where Layla was looking. “They probably sell that here, if you’re interested?” she said.

As they walked over to the skirt section of the store, it occurred to Layla that the shop had no men’s and women’s section, unlike every London store she’d been in. Bras, knickers, boxers and y-fronts were all in the same aisle; jeans of every cut were beside each other on the shelf; and none of the clothes she looked at had explicit men’s or women’s labels on them.

They found the skirt, looked up a conversion table between British and Kaymalan clothes sizes, and then Freya suggested Layla try the skirt on. Layla hesitated.

“Are there any fitting rooms?” she asked.

“Oh yes,” said Freya. “Sorry, it didn’t occur to me.”

She led Layla to the back of the store, where there were just two fitting cubicles, with curtains over the doors and a divider that went from ankle-height to just above head height.

“Not many people around here bother,” said Freya, “but some people prefer the privacy.”

As they approached, a middle-aged man gave them a friendly nod as he disappeared into the cubicle on the right. Layla went into the left cubicle, and to her surprise -- though not displeasure -- Freya followed her.

Layla started to say something, but Freya gestured for her to be quiet and pointed at the neighbouring cubicle.

For a few seconds all was quiet, then they heard the unmistakable sound of a stream of liquid hitting a hollow wall and running down to the floor. Looking down, Layla saw rivulets of the man’s pee dripping down the gap between the dividing wall and the floor. His puddle spread out slightly into their cubicle, before following the slope of the floor towards the closest drain.

Layla waited for him to finish. After the stream petered out, they heard him cough once, then the zip of his flies, and then the curtain being undrawn as he went back out onto the shop floor.

Layla leaned over to Freya. “Why did he do that here?” she asked. “If he wasn’t trying anything on, why not pee out there like everybody else does?”

Freya shrugged. “Some people are shy about peeing in public,” she said. “And some people just like peeing in a cubicle. Like how, you know, some people prefer to pee outside in the open air, some people like to piss against a wall, some people like pissing in bed and some hate it, that sort of thing. Well, some people like to find somewhere enclosed, a changing room or an elevator or whatever. It’s hard to say why people like what they like, but here we try to cater for everybody’s tastes. Do people not pee in changing rooms in your country?”

“Some people do, I suppose,” said Layla. “But it’s illegal.”

Layla started to pull her jeans down, being careful not to stand in the wet patch that had spread into their cubicle. The fitting room had plenty of space for both Layla and Freya, but Layla still felt nervous getting naked in front of the other girl. It didn’t make sense -- only the day before Freya had had her tongue inside Layla, and Layla had peed in her face -- but Layla felt the butterflies regardless. Especially, as she pulled her knickers down, Layla felt conscious of how thick her bush was down there, compared to all the Kaymalans who seemed to trim or even shave completely.

“If I’m going to wear this, maybe I should start shaving,” Layla said.

“What, this?”

Freya reached out and stroked the triangle of hair between her legs.

“I love this,” she said. “Wear it with pride.”

Layla stepped into the skirt and pulled it up to her waist, admiring the look in the mirror. She tried standing with her legs together, with them wide, stepping one foot forwards and then the other, seeing what she could do to make the skirt fall open and what would leave it closed. It occurred to her what her mother would say if she saw her now, and Layla giggled.

“You like it?” said Freya. “It looks good. Are you going to wear it out of the store? You can just take the tag off and show it to them at the counter.”

“I like it,” said Layla. It would take some courage to wear it out in public, but hey, it was no worse than what dozens of other people in the store were wearing.

“Listen,” she said, as she stuffed her old clothes into a bag. “Do you mind if I take a leak here?”

“Well, if you do, I will as well,” said Freya, turning to face the corner of the cubicle as she spoke. Layla sank into a squat in the middle of the cubicle, lifting her skirt up off the floor. Her eyes fell on Freya’s cock, and she watched as the other girl started to piss up the wall. The cubicle was soon full of the stereo sounds of two pee streams.

“Can I tell you a secret?” Layla said.

“Always,” said Freya.

“I have actually peed in a fitting room before.”

Freya turned to look at Layla, her piss stream arcing over the wall. “Really? In London?”

Layla nodded. “A few times, actually. I knew this girl -- a housemate at uni. She was from a Muslim family, like me, only she wasn’t as strict, she didn’t wear a hijab. She had this really rebellious streak. She was the one who first got me to start drinking, and tried to get me to hook up with boys on nights out, although I was never very good at it.”

Layla stood up, wiping herself on the edge of her new skirt. Freya was just finishing up.

“We’d only known each other a few weeks and she asked me to go shopping with her,” Layla went on. “And we’d been looking around for a couple of hours. We wandered into this expensive shop, and she said to me, ‘Listen, I really need the loo, will you wait for me?’ She’d been there before so I assumed she meant that this store had a toilet. But no, she grabbed something off a shelf and disappeared towards the changing rooms. And a couple of minutes later came back looking relieved.”

Freya shook herself off and fastened her jeans. “That would be a crime in your country, then?”

Layla nodded. “I asked her about it afterwards. She just said it seemed more convenient than finding a loo. But the way she said it made me think that wasn’t really the reason.

“A few weeks later we were shopping together again. We’d just tried some things on, and then she said, ‘Could you wait for me outside, I’m just gonna go to the loo while I’m here.’ And she was, like, already undoing her jeans there in the changing room, it was obvious she wasn’t talking about finding a toilet. I stepped outside, and I could hear her peeing on the carpet. I already needed to go, anyway, and the sound was too much. So when she’d finished, I asked if she’d wait for me as well, and I went back in and did my business.”

“And how did that make you feel?” asked Freya, with a coy smile.

“Well, I felt a bit guilty about the mess,” said Layla. “But I figured that my friend had already messed it up, so I wasn’t really making anything worse. And it did make me -- you know.”

“Turned on?” Freya was grinning.

“My friend didn’t say anything about it, but she smiled at me once I’d done,” said Layla. “We went shopping together quite a few times. Every time she would say something about needing the loo and go to the changing rooms. Sometimes I did the same, not every time. One time we went into that expensive shop again and we just both grabbed something off the shelves and went into neighbouring stalls without saying anything. I peed and I could hear her peeing next to me. Then we both gave the stuff we’d grabbed to the attendant and said it didn’t fit, and we left. I never dared go back to that shop after that, in case they recognised me.”

Freya’s phone buzzed, and she glanced at it.

“Simon and Olivia are grabbing coffee,” she said. “Why don’t we pay for this skirt of yours and go join them?”

She held the curtain open for Layla to step out of the cubicle and into the store. A passing attendant smiled at them, then laughed as she saw the puddle Layla had left in the changing room floor. At the cash desks, the cashier scanned the tag that Layla had pulled off her skirt, his eyes drifting to Layla’s crotch as he did so. Layla, surprising herself, adjusted her stance so that the skirt hung open.

“Nice vagina,” said the cashier as he handed her her receipt. “I love the way you have your bush. Where do you come from?”

“From England,” said Layla.

He eyed her pussy again through the gap in her skirt. “Well, it looks like you’ll fit in well here.”

Layla smiled. She was starting to feel that she would do.