BeneathMyWillow

I once peed in the garden of a cathedral. No offence meant to anyone of the religion, of course... This cathedral has a small, walled-off 'tranquility garden' with sculpted bushes and nice views over the town. I was sat there reading for an hour or so, and the whole time I saw maybe two people come past. Realised I needed a piss, and thought, why walk back to my hostel just for the bathroom? It was so quiet I was sure I wouldn't be seen. I don't think it was 'bad' in the sense that nobody suffered because of it, but it felt quite naughty to pee in such a respectful place.

I decided today to try something new. I've been doing yoga on and off for a few years, but it had never occurred to me before to wonder what wetting during yoga would be like. Yoga puts your body in some unusual positions so I thought it might be fun to try. Plus, trying something like this seemed like it fit in well with the love yourself / explore your body vibe.

 

When I do yoga it's always in my room following along to youtube videos. I live in a shared house, so my room is the only proper private space I have for things like this. I usually wear thin cotton trousers that are really baggy -- the style that you'll see for sale in backpacker-type touristy areas, for instance, often decorated with elephants. (I've tried naked yoga before, and while I like the idea I find that in practise I prefer it wearing loose clothes). I do wear boxers underneath, but they're also pretty loose and thin. I have a standard plastic yoga mat, which is good for repelling moisture, and I made sure to have a couple of towels and old sheets nearby as well.

 

Felt quite nervous to start of with, which I always do before trying something like this for the first time. I decided to relax into the idea a bit before starting the youtube video playing, so I got changed into my yoga outfit and had a cup of tea, sat cross-legged on the mat. I tried letting out a small trickle in that position. I was surprised to find that I barely felt any wetness. I think this is because the trousers are so baggy: they guide the flow around me without touching my skin very much. It also helps that in these pants my anatomy pretty much hangs centrally rather than being pulled to one side, so stuff doesn't run down one leg in the way I'm used to.

 

I started the video playing. The videos in this series are usually about 20 minutes long, and they start with some slow and gentle exercises (usually in a seated position), go through some more strenuous stuff before ending with some gentle and relaxing stuff again. The instructor talks a lot about being mindful of your breath, and she often says things like, “breath in deep … and now a big exhale.” I found it felt quite nice to just relax and let out a little stream during each of the exhales. I wasn't peeing very much, so it just left a few wet spots sitting on the plastic mat, which I wiped up with a towel.

 

During the more active part of the practise, chances to pee were rarer since there were stretches where I was constantly moving. I found that whenever we were still for a few breaths was a good time for short little pisses. It felt both naughty and very natural at the same time. I got to try some pretty fun poses -- downward dog (hands and feet on the floor, bum in the air), tree (stood on one leg) and extended child (kind of on your kneeling with your head pressed to the floor and your arms out ahead, like you're praying) were all pretty unusual positions for a piss.

 

I did find that the standing poses caused something of a problem. Since the trousers material is so thin, it wasn't absorbent at all -- so stuff didn't run down my legs, it pretty much passed straight through the fabric and fell to the floor. It made a pretty loud noise when it dripped onto the plastic, so I always had to cut myself off pretty quickly because I was worried what my housemates in the room next door might hear.

 

I got to the end of the video, ending with a bow in a kneeling position. I still had plenty left in me -- lots of little trickles are never enough to empty a full bladder -- so I stayed in that kneeling position, tucked a towel between my legs and let loose with what I had left. I was a bit worried how the mat might hold up to this, but it didn't let anything through and the towel soaked up everything before it could run off the edges. I've spent the time since then sitting on the mat as I type this up, letting more go whenever I feel the urge (I've drunk quite a lot of water today).

 

All around it was a thoroughly enjoyable experience. I'll definitely try it again -- I'd like to try sometime when nobody else is around, so I don't need to worry about the noise. I'd love to just open the floodgates in one of the standing poses to see what that feels like, but I don't want to try that when there's anybody else in the house. It really did feel to fit in quite well with the standard benefits of yoga (relaxing and feeling good about yourself, at least for me). It's been a long time since I did any proper experimenting like this, so this was a really fun thing to try!

The next morning Simon woke up feeling like he hadn't slept, and wondering if he was still drunk. He had been woken by somebody climbing over him, and looked around to see Melanie's naked body squatting by the side of the bed.

“Sorry,” she said, “go back to sleep.”

He watched through one eye as she let out a long piss onto the tan-coloured carpet, turning a patch of it dark. Then she stood, stretched, and went out into the living room.

Simon turned over, his groggy mind coming slowly to life. The large bed had obviously been crowded overnight; even after Melanie and left, it still contained not only himself, but also Camille and Mikah. The sheets were damp and cold. Beneath the sheets, he was well and truly stood to attention, and images from last night kept flashing in front of his eyes. He wondered if he should get up, but the effort involved seemed to be beyond him.

Camille was stirring as well. Her eyes opened, and she looked slightly confused for a second, then seemed to realise where she was. She snuggled closer to him under the sheets. She was naked, he realised, and then he realised that this shouldn't have surprised him. They had never seen each other naked before, and had certainly never been this close before. He could feel her breasts against his chest, and when she moved one of her legs pressed against his cock. She gave him a sleepy smile, and whispered, “You're in a good mood this morning.”

Then she wrapped a hand around his cock and started to tug. Simon was surprised, but not at all unhappy with this. Camille's other hand was rubbing between her own legs, and -- he realised when he felt warmth spreading through the damp sheets, and heard a faint hiss -- she was peeing at the same time. Simon considered for a moment, then thought, fuck it, Camille will enjoy it. He relaxed and let his own pee come. His erection gave it pressure, and pee spurted between his body and Camille's. He had drunk a lot the night before, and he kept up a steady flow for at least a minute, soaking the two of them and the surrounding sheets. Camille leaned across and kissed him on the cheek, which he took as her way of saying thanks, and she settled back into her handjob. Before long Simon had shot his load into the sheets around them as well.

A few minutes later both of them climbed out of bed, wiping themselves clean on the sheets and leaving Mikah where he slept. They went through, still naked, into the rest of the flat.

Ellen and Jasmine were sleeping on the sofa, both naked and wrapped around each other. Jasmine's butt-cheeks were sticking up into the air, and Simon had a strong desire to feel one, but he fought it and followed Camille through to the kitchen. Here, Melanie -- wearing an apron and nothing else -- was busy over a frying pan.

“Just making some breakfast,” she said. “Go have showers if you want them, it'll be ready when you come back.”

The shower cubicle was big, so Simon and Camille went in together, taking turns to stand under the water, washing the worst of the residue of the night's activities off themselves. When they went back in the kitchen Melanie was just dishing up breakfast, and Ellen had come through, looking bleary-eyed.

“Did I smell coffee?” she asked. Melanie pointed her to a filter machine on the side, and Ellen poured herself a mug, leaning against the wall and holding the coffee under her nose. She didn't move as she peed hands-free, the stream running down her legs and pattering onto the floor. She had clearly forgotten the rule about no peeing in the dining room, but Melanie didn't seem to object.

Jasmine joined them, and the four of them plus Melanie wolfed down some breakfast. They left not long afterwards, Melanie hugging them all goodbye, and a sleepy Mikah coming through to see them off. Jasmine and Ellen hadn't bothered showering, saying that they would do once they got home, and none of them felt like putting their dirty clothes back on, so they walked naked to Ellen's car with their clothes in carrier bags.

In the elevator Simon paused to take another leak, saying that he wasn't sure he would last until they reached the hostel, and the three girls decided to join him. When they stepped out on the ground floor, a waiting elderly gentleman seemed quite taken-aback to see so many naked people on a Sunday morning; but he smiled genially at them, and watched them (with great interest) as they walked away, before stepping gingerly onto the piss-covered floor as the elevator doors closed behind him.

“So what do you think?” asked Ellen as she unlocked her car, looking at Simon and Camille. “Your first Kaymalan dinner party. Would you go to another?”

Camille and Simon both smiled. “It's very different to back home,” Simon said. “I think I prefer it this way.”

They took their seats at the dinner table, where Mikah was serving up the food -- home-made gnocchi in olive oil, with plenty of sun-ripened tomato and other vegetables. Melanie topped up their glasses and they began to eat.

The conversation meandered around various topics -- for a while Mikah, Ellen and Jasmine talked about work, and then Camille told them a story about an ex-girlfriend in Paris -- but eventually the topic came back to sex.

“I just think it's better with a long-term partner,” Melanie said. “I'll tell you, there was a guy at my work that I was really into -- I've been fantasizing about him for months. Then on this work trip last week I finally got him in the sack. We were in this boring meeting all morning, and at coffee break I managed to persuade him to sneak off back to my room. But he really wasn't as great as I was expecting, you know?”

“That's different, though,” said Ellen. “You said you were thinking about him for ages, right? So you had high expectations.”

“I don't think that's it,” said Melanie. “Mikah knows what I like, we're on the same, I don't know, same wavelength. And this guy wasn't.”

“There might be something in that,” said Ellen, “but you have to know you like first, and that's something you find out by trying lots of different people, I reckon. It forces you to try new things, and that's how you find out what you like and what you don't.”

“For me, I agree with Ellen,” said Camille. “Back home I had a few boyfriends and girlfriends, and a couple of one-night stands. But here you can sleep with anyone, and I think that's special. I've learned more about sex here here than I did at home.”

“I think it's good to have both,” Mikah said. “Like Melanie says, there's no-one as good in bed as she is, at least for me. But, well, you two were pretty good as well,” he indicated Ellen and Jasmine. “I've never fucked anyone in a swimming pool before, and that was pretty fun. We should try it sometime,” he added to Melanie.

“What about you, Simon?” Jasmine asked.

Simon shrugged. “I only ever had one girlfriend at home,” he said, “and we broke up just before I came here.” In fact they had been going out for five years, since school, until time and distance caused them to drift apart. “I like the way you do things here,” he said.

“I could do with taking a leak,” said Ellen. “Where can I go?”

Melanie said, “Not in here, but anywhere else in the flat is fine. We'll clean up tomorrow morning.”

“I'll come with you,” Simon said. He followed her into the apartment's entry hall. The small space here was actually quite crowded. Most of the walls were taken up with hanging coats and shoe racks. A closed door leading to the bathroom looked like a good bet to Simon, so he peed against it, watching his piss run down the wood and puddle on the floor beneath.

Ellen, meanwhile, had lifted her skirt and was peeing over a free patch of floor space, bending her knees slightly but not enough to avoid spray. She looked at Simon and grinned.

“How are you finding the evening?” she asked.

“Good, so far,” Simon said. “The food is good.”

“It's been a bit quiet,” said Ellen, “but it'll liven up once we've finished with dinner.”

They finished up and headed back into the dining room. Ellen picked up a nearby wineglass and drank a mouthful. Mikah watched her, then cleared his throat.

“I think that was my wine,” he said.

There was a collective ooohhh around the table, and Jasmine clapped and said, “Forfeit?” There seemed to be some joke that Simon wasn't in on.

Mikah had a strange look on his face. “It's early,” he said, “I won't ask for much. How about, say, ten seconds in the pants?”

“Seems fair,” said Ellen, and -- to Simon's surprise -- she leaned across and slipped one hand down the front of Mikah's trousers. For ten seconds she stayed there, rubbing him up and down, while Mikah leant back in his chair, eyes closed, and the rest of the table laughed and wolf-whistled. Then Ellen took her hand away, and went back to her food as though nothing had happened.

“It's a forfeit,” Jasmine said to Simon. “If you drink someone else's drink -- or, you know, you don't take your turn buying the rounds, anything -- you have to do something for them in return.”

“Does everyone play this game?” Simon asked.

“If you're in Kaymala, you're playing,” said Jasmine. “But you can't be forced into anything you don't want to do. You agree the forfeit between the two of you.”

Eventually the food was finished, and the party moved back through to the living room. Simon, Camille and Mikah squeezed onto the two-seater sofa, while the others sat on armchairs.

More wine was poured. They were all starting to look look and act tipsy. The fabric around the neckline of Melanie's dress had become loose and hung open at the front, giving everyone an ample view of her cleavage and flashes of nipple every time she moved, but she either hadn't noticed or didn't seem to mind. Ellen sat on the arm of Jasmine's chair, not troubling to keep her legs closed, and Jasmine rested her hand on Ellen's lap, running her fingers up and down the skin of Ellen's upper thigh. Beside Simon, Camille leaned sleepily on his shoulder. He stroked her hair, then lowered his hand and squeezed her boob. She giggled.

The conversation continued, but slowly. Simon had the feeling that everyone was waiting for something, but he didn't know what.

At length Ellen pulled Jasmine's hand away from her dress -- the girl's fingers had just started to brush against her vagina itself -- and said, “Somebody needs to get this party going. Who wants to go first?”

“Who with who, you mean?” Mikah asked. “I'd go for a woman, but I'm spoiled for choice there. You're all beautiful.”

“Any other gender preferences?” said Ellen.

“I might try a girl,” Melanie said. “I haven't been with a girl for years.”

“Before we go any further, I might take a leak,” said Ellen. “You did say anywhere was okay?”

Without waiting for an answer, Simon saw her scoot forward on the arm of her chair, pulling her dress up above her waist as she did so. She placed her feet on the floor, leaned her torso back, and pissed in a powerful arc forwards and upwards. Her stream landed squarely on the glass coffee table, the puddle quickly spreading across the table's surface and running down onto the rug below. Simon quickly leaned forward to move his wineglass out of the splash zone. With his other hand he adjusted his trousers, where things had suddenly become uncomfortably tight; two seats away on the sofa, he saw Mikah making the same adjustment.

Ellen finished up and let out a sigh. “Hope you didn't mind that,” she said to Melanie. “I really needed to go, and, well...”

She didn't say any more, but she didn't need to. Melanie was looking at her, wide-eyed and flushed, clearly turned on. Simon remembered her complaints about Mikah peeing on the window, how she had protested that she couldn't see what he enjoyed about it, and he wondered if she might not have been entirely truthful.

“Why don't you and I take this into the next room, and leave these people to sort themselves out?” Melanie said, tipping her head towards the open door to the bedroom.

“Sounds good to me,” Ellen said. She picked up her wineglass and the two women moved towards the other room.

Meanwhile, Camille was squirming beside Simon, shifting her bum back and forth on the gap between sofa cushions.

“Are you all right?” Simon asked her.

“I just need to pee as well,” she said. Simon expected her to climb out and move towards a corner, but that was not Camille's style. Instead, she just pulled her skirt out from underneath her, showing her leggings underneath, and then relaxed. There was a hissing, squirting sound, and Simon saw trickles of pee running out from the seat of her leggings and down, through the gap between the sofa cushions. A few seconds later he could hear it splashing onto the floor beneath the sofa.

On Camille's other side, Mikah seemed fascinated to watch this. “May I?” he asked, and he moved one hand to the seat of her leggings, feeling the dampness and the stream of piss still pouring into the fabric. Once his hand was there he started to rub, gently, back and forth on the little mound that was visible through the slightly transparent material. Simon heard Camille take a sharp breath in and saw her close her eyes, smiling.

Suddenly she and Mikah were kissing, his hand still on her crotch and the other at her breast, while she fumbled to undo his belt. Simon stood up quickly as Camille lay back across his seat of the sofa, her legs spread wide and Mikah on top of her.

Simon looked around the room, feeling suddenly left out. Through the open bedroom door he could see Melanie and Ellen lying top-to-tail, both of them going down on the other, and beside him Mikah and Camille were still passionately pulling at each other's clothes. The only other person in the room was Jasmine. She had crossed to the window and was looking out over the city.

“Lovely view,” Simon said as he walked over to her. This time he meant the double meaning, because both the cityscape and Jasmine were stunning. She smiled at him.

“They seem to be enjoying themselves,” she said, indicating the two on the sofa.

Simon nodded his agreement, not quite sure what to say. Jasmine turned back to the window.

“I'm going to pee on it,” she said, suddenly. “I've wanted to since we arrived. Hold this, would you?”

She handed him her wine glass, then lifted her dress up and stood square with the window.

“I've never been as good at this as Ellen is,” she said. “Could you hold my dress up for me as well?”

Simon shifted her wineglass to his other hand, and took hold of a bunch of material from her dress, doing his best to hold it out of the way. Jasmine used both hands to pull back on her skin and aim upwards, leaning back as she did so. Her pee came as a trickle at first, then suddenly with more force. It hit the window at waist height. Spray bounced out sideways and back towards Jasmine and Simon. The rest of her piss washed down the window like a waterfall, pouring away through the drain at the bottom.

“That was good,” said Jasmine once she'd finished, “thanks.”

She wiped herself on the back of her hand, then held out the same hand to take her wineglass back. But Simon didn't give it back straight away. Instead he lifted it to his lips and drank a mouthful, swallowed, and then gave the remainder to her. She raised her eyebrows.

“You owe me a forfeit, then,” she said.

Simon smiled. “What do you want me to do for it?”

“Well,” said Jasmine, “you can start by taking this dress off me, and we'll see how we go from there.”

The dress was thrown to one side, and Simon's clothes soon followed it. Simon ran his hands over Jasmine's body, exploring all of it, her soft hair, every contour of her breasts with their beady little nipples, then around to her backside -- and it was a good backside. She was doing the same to him, pulling on his cock, pinching his ass, kissing his neck and the bones in his collar. And then he was inside her, pushing and relaxing and pushing while she writhed up and down against the window, both of them panting and gasping.

Over Jasmine's shoulder Simon could see pedestrians and cars in the street below, and the lights of the apartment block across the street. He wondered if anyone was looking this way, and if so, what the view would look like.

After that, the evening became a series of fragmented memories for Simon, difficult to piece together when he looked back the next day. He vaguely remembered he and Jasmine moving to one of the armchairs, spent, leaning against each other and laughing. He remembered watching Mikah stand and Camille kneel in front of him, him pissing onto the front of her dress while she squirmed with pleasure.

At some point Melanie and Ellen had come back into the room, finished with each other and looking to switch partners. He remembered sitting in one armchair and watching Ellen and Jasmine in the other, naked and entwined together like halves of one being. And he remembered Melanie sat on the arm of his chair while he reached up her skirt, feeling around at the tops of her stockings, the bushy triangle of hair and the warm slit. Later they must have moved to the bedroom, because he had a memory of Melanie squatting over him on the bed, pissing a powerful stream that soaked him and the sheets. And he had a memory of feeling her cunt around his cock, both still wet with her pee, and of watching her boobs bounce as she slid up and down on him.

This is a story set in the 'Kaymala' world -- you should be able to read these in any order (although I think this is becoming less true). If interested the first episode and introduction of Simon and Ellen is here, the introduction of Mikah and Jasmine is here, and the introduction of Camille is here.

This is a pretty long one so I'll split it up over several comments.

***********************************

The first stars were appearing as Simon and Camille sat on the hostel steps. The street outside the hostel was quiet. They could hear the sound of the river lapping at the shore, and music from a bar somewhere in the distance. Across the road from them, a couple were nestled among the rocks on the shore, tangled up together. They weren't fucking yet, but were making progress -- the girl had her shirt off already, the guy nuzzling kisses between her boobs, both of them laughing. It was a pleasant evening.

A silver Skoda pulled up, disturbing the quiet night. Simon and Camille stood as two women climbed out. Both were about the same age as Simon and Camille, and both wore dresses that were barely long enough to cover the essentials, their legs glowing in the light from the open doorway. Simon knew the blonde, pale-skinned woman already -- she was Ellen, that he had met on the plane to Kaymala. The other woman had black hair and a darker complexion. Simon guessed this was Jasmine, who Ellen had said would be joining them.

“So this is the guy you were telling me about?” Jasmine said, after they had exchanged pleasantries. She eyed Simon up and down, slightly doubtfully. “He doesn't look like I expected.”

“And you're Camille?” Ellen said. “From France, did Simon say? More foreign blood is always welcome. Shall we go?”

Camille smiled as she shook Ellen's hand. She was wearing a pink dress that was rather tight around the chest, her tits straining against the fabric. It came down to about her knees, with black leggings underneath.

“Do you want my seat, Camille?” Jasmine said. “I'll sit in the back.”

“As long as you don't piss in my car again, Jasmine,” Ellen said. “I've only just cleaned it after last time.”

“Of course I won't,” said Jasmine, innocently.

They set off, Simon beside Jasmine in the back. They were headed to a dinner party organised by a friend of Ellen and Jasmine, a guy they knew from work. Ellen had called Simon to invite him, and said he was welcome to bring one or two people from the hostel if they were interested. The native Kaymalans had all turned the offer down, but Camille -- like Simon -- was interested to see another side of Kaymalan life.

The car was quite small, and Simon and Jasmine were sat quite close to each other. Her bare leg was only an inch away from his. Her skin was bronze and very smooth. Her cotton dress was so short it hardly covered anything, and he was sure she was wearing nothing underneath.

He glanced up to see her smirking at him, and realised he must have been obvious in his ogling, but Jasmine didn't seem to mind. In fact she winked at him.

“Watch this,” she said, and she pulled the hem of her dress up above her waist. He had been right to think she had nothing on underneath. For a moment Simon was confused -- was she just showing him her pussy? Then she shifted her position slightly so that her pussy was at the edge of the seat and started to pee. The seats were vinyl, so her piss mostly ran off the surface and down into the footwell.

Jasmine put her finger to her lips and winked again, nodding towards the seat in front of her where Ellen was driving, blissfully unaware. The radio was making enough noise to cover the sound.

Simon couldn't help staring at her unshaved vagina and at her stream of pee. When she pushed harder the stream came more forcefully, arcing past the front of the chair and falling to the floor directly.

He felt himself going stiff and quickly rearranged his trousers to try to hide it. Jasmine caught the movement though and smirked. She finished pissing and wiped herself with the hem of her dress. Then she reached across and slipped one hand down the front of Simon's trousers, feeling him. She raised her eyebrows.

“I see what Ellen meant,” she said.

“What are you two up to back there?” Ellen asked from the front.

Jasmine took her hand back out of Simon's trousers, smiling. “Save it for later,” she said to him.

The apartment block they were going to was a fancy-looking modern building, with lots of plate glass. Ellen pulled up in the parking lot and they rode the lift up. The hallway was a fresh, blue colour, every surface clean and shiny, and tastefully decorated throughout with paintings and pot plants.

Ellen and Jasmine led the way down the corridor, with Camille and Simon behind, Simon appreciating the way that Ellen and Jasmine's dresses rode up as they walked to reveal the lower half of their buttocks. The two girls' dresses almost matched, apart from the colours: Ellen's was pale blue and Jasmine's green.

“This is the one,” Ellen said, coming to a stop outside number 615. “Just wait a moment before we knock, I'm going to use the hallway.”

And she lifted her dress and squatted by the wall, where there was a small metal drain. Glancing down the corridor, Simon noticed that there were several more of these drains. He guessed they were there for just this purpose. Ellen's piss splattered over the shiny floor beside the drain. He took a moment to admire her vagina; he'd seen it before, and been inside it more than once, but he was always happy to see it again.

“I always pee if I need to before I go in someone's house,” Ellen said. “It's just awkward when you go in, you say hi and straight away you have to ask them where you can pee.”

“I think you have a good point,” said Camille. She squatted beside Ellen, lifting her skirt and peeing through her thin leggings onto the floor.

Simon decided he might as well join them in taking a leak. He crossed to a nearby pot plant and undid his flies. His pee splashed onto the stones in the vase, quickly trickling between them and out of sight.

He finished up and turned back to the group, tucking himself back into his trousers as he turned, not too bothered what anybody saw. The two girls had also stood up, Ellen wiping herself on a tissue she had taken from her bag. She was looking expectantly at Jasmine, the only person who hadn't peed. Jasmine shrugged.

“I just don't really need to go right now,” she said, her face and voice carefully innocent.

Ellen pressed the doorbell, and it quickly opened. A dark-skinned man stood in the doorway, in his early thirties, wearing a flower-patterned shirt and jeans and grinning at the sight of them. This must be Mikah, the work friend of Ellen's and Jasmine's who was hosting the dinner party.

“Good evening!” he said. “Great to see you all. My two favourite ladies! And you've brought friends, as promised. Come in, please.”

They followed Mikah into his flat, looking around. After a small hallway, Mikah led them into a kitchen-cum-dining-room. It was large for an apartment, and expensively decorated. The floor was polished wood, the counter-tops gleaming marble. The glass-topped table was already laid with plates and glasses, and a pot of something simmered on the hob, filling the room with the smell of tomato and garlic.

A woman stood by the fridge, pouring glasses of wine. She was probably a few years older than Mikah, with blonde hair and tanned skin. She wore a red dress and stockings. The skirt of the dress was open down one side, so Simon could see her leg, and see that her stockings ended at mid-thigh level. The top had a remarkably low-cut cleavage, almost down to her waist; the fabric on either side flapped loosely when she moved and looked in constant danger of slipping aside.

“Red or white?” she asked them. “We'll take the drinks through to the living room for a few minutes. He likes to be left alone when he's cooking.”

She said the last with a sly look at Mikah, and Simon wondered if she was trying to get a rise out of him, but he simply tipped his head in acknowledgement.

They took the glasses that she handed them and followed her through to the sitting room. It was similarly decorated, with a plush sofa and armchairs, a glass coffee-table, and a full-length window along one wall. The floor was wood again, except for a fine white rug under the coffee-table. A half-open door led to the bedroom, which was carpeted, and the double bed was freshly made.

The woman introduced herself as Melanie. She took a seat in one of the armchairs and gestured for the rest of them to sit as well.

“So, you two are the girls who've been keeping my husband exercised while I'm away, are you?” she asked, smiling mischievously at Ellen and Jasmine. “Well, he certainly chose two good-looking girls.”

“It was just the once,” said Jasmine. “Well, once each.”

“Hope we weren't, you know, stepping on your toes,” said Ellen.

“Not at all,” said Melanie. “We don't have that kind of relationship. Why limit oneself, you know what I mean? I know that whoever he sleeps with he'll end up back with me, and he knows the same about me. Now, you two are not from around here, did I hear that right?”

The last was directed at Simon and Camille, sat beside each other on the couch.

“Yes,” said Camille. “I am from France.”

“And I'm English,” said Simon.

“Excellent,” she said. “Are you settling in here?”

“I suppose so,” said Simon. There was a pointed meaning behind the question that he decided to ignore -- when Kaymalans talked about settling in to the country, they were talking about sex. “I've been here a few days, and Camille a bit longer.”

“I like it here,” said Camille, snuggling down into the couch.

Melanie smiled. Simon saw her eyes dart down to the line of Camille's dress, which had ridden up when she moved. Camille noticed too, but didn't react.

“You've got one hell of a view from up here,” Jasmine said. She was looking through the window, unaware of the double-meaning of her words. Simon looked over to the window as well. It was indeed a beautiful view, looking out over glass-fronted office blocks and streams of car headlights.

“Oh, yes, we love it,” Melanie said. “Especially Mikah. He has his morning routine -- perhaps you can explain this to me, Simon, because it must be a male thing. Every morning he gets out of bed and makes coffee, then he carries it over to the window to drink it. Still bollock naked, mind you, and cock as high as a flagpole. Then he stands there admiring the view and he does his morning piss up the glass. Every morning it's the same. Empties his whole bladder, it's like watching a waterfall. Then he brings the coffee back to bed, grinning like a monkey.”

“What's wrong with that?” Ellen said. “Sounds like great fun to me. I'd do it if I lived here. I mean, the architect put the drain there, right?” She pointed at the foot of the window, where there was indeed a drain along the floor. Now that Simon looked, there were actually several small drains positioned discreetly around the room.

“Well, perhaps,” Melanie said. “I don't understand it. But it gets him excited, and we have great sex afterwards, so maybe I shouldn't complain.”

Mikah appeared in the archway from the kitchen. “What are you all talking about?” he asked.

“Nothing, dear,” said Melanie. “Just about life, you know. How are you doing in there?”

“It's ready, in fact. Do you all want to come through?”

They picked up their glasses and followed him through to the dining room, but Simon saw Melanie hang back.

“One second,” she said. “Let me just take care of this.” She moved to one corner of the living room and squatted low to the ground, using the opening in her skirt to pull it to one side. Her stockings came up to mid-thigh, and like a lot of people around here she hadn't bothered with panties. She peed quickly and forcefully, the hissing noise audible even over the scraping of chairs from the next room. After a few seconds she stood, leaving the puddle to slowly spread towards the drain in the corner.

“We don't like to pee in the dining room,” she said to Simon, noticing him watching. “And I think it's good to empty your bladder before a meal, leave lots of room for the wine.”

Hi all, long time since I've had chance to write anything but here is another from me -- just a short one today.

This is a story set in the 'Kaymala' world -- you should be able to read these in any order, but if interested the first episode is here, and the introduction of these characters is here.

****************************

 

Simon awoke to the sound of water trickling onto a wooden floor. He opened his eyes and looked groggily around. Sunlight was creeping in through the hostel dorm window, and he guessed it must be mid morning. There was no sign of life from the others in the room, with one exception: the stream of yellowish liquid splashing down from the top bunk onto the floor.

“Morning, Christopher,” he mumbled.

“Morning,” came a sleepy reply.

Simon cast his eyes again around the room again. They had come in late and drunk last night and had left the room something of a mess, with yesterday's clothes strewn all over the floor. Christopher's not the only puddle in the room; other puddles beside beds or against walls and wardrobes marked where he and his roommates had relieved themselves before bed or during the night. Nobody had taken much care to avoid the discarded clothes. The system was well-understood: if it was left on the floor, it was okay to get wet.

Simon turned over to bury his face from the sunlight. He noticed as he did so that the sheets on the wall side of his bed were damp, and it took him a few seconds to work out why. Then the memory returned of him waking up at around six in the morning with a desperately full bladder. He had decided to simply point himself at the wall while he was lying down and pee like that, allowing the piss to run down the gap between bed and wall. It sort of worked, but there had been a bit more splashback than intended.

He looked back over the bits of memories his drunken brain had managed to hold onto from last night. They had gone to a club that Olivia, who worked at the hostel, had recommended. He remembered seeing lots of naked women. At some point he had bumped into Ellen, the girl he had met on the plane, and … well, he didn't remember everything, but his strongest memory was of being given head by her at the edge of the dance floor. She had given him her number and said something about a party … the details were foggy in his mind, but he would be sure to call her about it. They'd met twice now, and both times the sex had been amazing.

After a few minutes that Simon spent going over again his memories from the night before, he heard a soft but distinct hissing sound. There was no corresponding spatter. He looked around to see who it was, and was not surprised to see Camille moving. She was rubbing at her crotch through the bedsheets, and the sheets themselves glistened as the entire contents of her bladder soaked through them. After a few minutes, her quiet moans could be heard.

Simon could feel quite a bit of pressure in his bladder himself. He could just pull back the covers and piss on the floor, like Christopher had done, of course. But he still wasn't quite used to the way they did things here, and felt a bit self-conscious doing that sort of thing. Plus, his cock was stood at full attention from thinking about last night, and he didn't really want to show everybody that. Instead, he dragged himself out of bed, grabbing a towel from his suitcase and wrapping it around his waist to cover his morning glory.

He crossed the corridor to the shower room. He had been thinking that this would be the perfect place to pee, but his heart sank when he heard running water, and realised that somebody else was in the shower already.

He pushed the door open, still holding the towel around his waist. The showers were open-plan, just 6 shower-heads along the walls and no privacy. The person using them already was Olivia, a Spanish girl who worked at the hostel. She smiled at him, her dusky Mediterranean skin glistening in the steamy air. Simon tried not to stare at her naked body, but it was hard. She had shapely breasts, each just larger than Simon would have been able to hold in one hand, with a bar piercing through each nipple. Below was shaven, and another piercing glittered down there.

“Hi,” Simon said, awkwardly.

“Morning,” she said. “Sleep well?”

“Not bad,” Simon said. “Do you mind if I pee here?”

She laughed. “Even in Europe nobody gives a fuck about pissing in the shower, just go for it.”

Simon hung his towel by the door and came forward into the room. He was still completely erect. He saw Olivia's eyes flick down to his crotch and stay there. Her eyes seemed to widen slightly. There was not going to be any privacy for this, it seemed.

If he hadn't been so desperate it would have been harder. As it was, it took a few seconds of concentration for him to get started, but once it was coming it didn't stop. His piss spurted up and forwards, a thin stream but with a lot of pressure. He used one hand to angle his cock forward slightly, directing the stream towards the centre of the room. He must have pissed for a full minute, and all the time he was aware of Olivia's eyes on him.

He finished up and shook himself off. He pressed the button for one of the showers opposite Olivia and stood back, waiting for the water to heat up.

“You've got a nice cock, you know,” Olivia said.

Simon was not sure how to respond. “Thanks?”

“It always surprises me,” she said. “The quiet ones … Can I feel it?”

“Sure,” Simon said.

She stepped up close to him and closed one hand around his shaft. His erection had been starting to die down, but in response to her touch it came fully to life again. She started to move her hand along the length of it, and he couldn't help gasping slightly. Shower water continued to fall around them. She was stood very close to him. Her nipples were almost touching his chest.

She held him for a few minutes, and then she stepped away, smiling.

“I like it,” she said. “I think I'll have a go on that sometime.”

She crossed to the door and picked up her towel from the hooks on the wall, starting to dry herself off. Simon watched her, drinking in the way that the water droplets clung to her backside, the way her hands held the towel to her boobs as she dried them, the way the top that she slipped on clung to her skin. Those few touches she'd given him had left him hungry for more, but Olivia didn't seem interested. Once she was dry she simply winked at him and left.

This is a story set in the 'Kaymala' world -- you should be able to read these in any order, but if interested the first episode is here, and the introduction of these characters is here.

****************************

Camille had been in Kaymala a few days, and she thought she was starting to get a grasp on how the place worked. The Scandinavian island nation had a unique culture. A lot of the rules that most other cultures had developed around sex, nudity and urination just weren't followed by Kaymalans.

However, that wasn't to say that Kaymala didn't have its own set of rules; they were just different. For instance, it was considered perfectly acceptable to be naked on the streets and on public transport, and it was common for people to stop for a piss where they stood or sat. On the other hand most workplaces insisted their staff wore clothes to work, and peeing at one's desk was generally frowned on.

In some cases, the rules seemed to depend on how classy a joint you were in. In the city's many coffee shops clothes were as optional as they were on the streets, and it wasn't uncommon to see someone taking a quick leak under the table before they left.

However, when Camille's friends Ingrid and Olivia had taken her out to a fancy restaurant, everyone in the place had been fully dressed, and quite modestly so. Peeing at the table, Camille's friends had warned her, was quite out of the question. Instead, she followed a sign down a corridor that was hidden by a screen from the main restaurant, where she found an elderly patron in a suit pissing grumpily against the wall. It turned out that the bathroom was out of order, with a sign on the door saying, “Please use the corridor, which will be mopped by a member of staff.” Ingrid later explained that no-one in the restaurant had a problem with pissing in public -- they were Kaymalan, after all -- but some people thought it was rather unrefined to piss in the same place one was eating.

Tonight, the club that they were going to promised to be a dive, which suited Camille just fine. She wanted to see the free, uninhibited side of the culture, and this promised to be a great place for it. Six people from the hostel, three girls and three guys, made their way down to the club. Olivia led the way to the place, which was hidden away down a back street not far from the city centre, and they joined the queue outside. The crowd was mostly young people in their early or mid twenties. Some wore tight clothes and short skirts, others had put on jackets against the chilly evening. A few brave people were already naked, with goose-pimpled flesh and hard nipples from the cold. So many drunk Kaymalans in one place could hardly be expected to hold their water; men turned to piss against the wall or out into the street, while women peed where they stood or squatted on the ground. The cobbled street was soon swimming in pee.

At long last Camille and her friends reached the doors and paid to go in. They paused at the cloakroom to leave coats and bags. Camille and Olivia handed their jackets in. Camille was wearing a red dress that she rather liked, with a short hemline and a way of hanging that made it cling to her boobs. Olivia paused inside the door to roll up the hem of her green dress until it was above her waist, leaving her shaven, pierced pussy on display. Ingrid, who had worn a long black coat down from the hostel, unfastened it now to reveal, unsurprisingly to those who knew her, that she was wearing nothing at all underneath except for her boots. She handed her coat in at the desk, and the group moved through to the dance floor.

The place was packed with people in various states of undress. Quite a few in the crowd were naked, and of the ones who were dressed a reasonable number of those where were dressed had pulled their clothes aside in revealing ways, rolling up their dresses or rolling down their tops or opening their trousers to let their cocks hang out. In the pulsing strobe lights, Camille could see boobs, pussies and cocks everywhere. One woman wore a skirt that was parted right down the middle to reveal her trim vagina. On a raised stage at the far end of the room, several naked people were dancing on poles, while a crowd watched and masturbated openly.

The floor was soaking wet, and certainly with more than just spilled drinks. A few feet away from Camille, a guy was peeing casually onto the dance floor, swaying in time with the music, nearby dancers stepping carefully around his stream. Looking further into the crowd, Camille could see that he wasn't the only one. She felt a tingle of excitement rising inside her, and let a spurt of her own piss out into her panties, squirming at the warmth as it spread around her sensitive areas. She had to fight to keep herself from massaging her clit by hand -- but there would be plenty going on there before the night was out.

Marco, one of the guys in the group, disappeared almost as soon as they were inside the club, slinking off with a girl he had been chatting up in the queue. The rest of them moved out together, and for a while they danced as a close group. Camille eyed the new guy, Simon, who had arrived in Kaymala just that day. She wondered about screwing him. He seemed to be astonished at everything going on around them, and he stared at every pair of tits that came near the group -- he looked pretty gormless, really. Camille thought perhaps she would wait for somebody else to try him and see if he was any good.

Not far off, Camille could see Marco dancing with the girl he had met outside, their hands all over each other. He had already undone a couple of the buttons on the back of her dress, and Camille guessed it wouldn't be long before they were screwing properly. The girl was in for a treat, Camille thought. Camille had fucked Marco the first day she arrived, and the man was … experienced, to say the least.

Camille's own eyes kept being drawn to Olivia, who was dancing next to Simon, and particularly to her bare pussy and the silver stud that glinted in the flashing lights. More than anyone else present, she really wanted to feel that pussy against hers, interlocked with her, to have Olivia's cute body pressed up close to her -- but Olivia didn't seem interested in Camille, or in any woman as far as Camille knew.

After a few minutes Ingrid announced she was going for drinks, and Camille volunteered to go with her. Olivia and Christopher asked for vodka and cokes, and Simon asked for a beer.

They joined the crowd around the bar, moving slowly forwards. Camille and Ingrid passed the time by pointing out cute guys and girls to each other. Camille particularly liked the look of one guy who stood a places away from them in the queue, blond with a bit of stubble. Like some men in the club did, he had unfastened his trousers so that his cock and balls were hanging out. He stood with his arm around a girl; probably a long-term couple, Camille thought. Perhaps he overheard Ingrid and Camille talking about him, or noticed them looking, because he glanced in their direction and seemed to give them a sly smile, which made Camille giggle.

They reached the bar and Ingrid gave a deep sigh. “I'm gonna pee,” she said, and, sure enough, she started to pee, pulling on her vulva to angle her stream forwards against the front of the bar. Glancing around, Ingrid saw that a couple of other people along the bar were also taking the opportunity to piss against it -- one guy was even doing so while giving his drinks order. A line of drains along the floor in front of the bar suggested that this wasn't uncommon.

“Why do people pee against the bar here?” Camille said.

Ingrid, still pissing with full force, shrugged one shoulder. “People like to piss against something, I guess,” she said. “Guys especially, but girls too.”

Camille found it fascinating the places that Kaymalans preferred to piss, when given leave to piss anywhere they wanted.

She needed to pee as well, so she concentrated, and let her own piss start to flow into her panties. She had never been able to pee forwards like Ingrid did, but she preferred her way in any case. Peeing into her clothes meant she could feel the warmth around her, and could feel the trickles running down her legs. She shuddered with pleasure, her hand almost unconsciously going down to her pussy.

Ingrid nudged Camille and pointed to the closest bartender, who was serving the cute guy they had been eyeing. Camille leaned forward to see what Ingrid meant. The bartender was pissing wildly, using one hand to hold his cock but doing little to keep the spray under control, while simultaneously pouring a beer with his other hand.

“Impressive, isn't it?” Ingrid said.

The bartender finished serving the cute guy, shook his penis off and put it away, then turned to Ingrid and Camille. Ingrid gave him their order. He didn't move to serve them immediately, but eyed Ingrid for a second.

“Free drinks for a feel of those?” he said, nodding towards Ingrid's chest.

Ingrid laughed. “Fuck off,” she said. “My tits aren't bartering chips.”

“All right, just thought I'd ask,” the bartender said. This was one of the rules Kaymalans were very clear on: it was important to ask, and to accept when somebody said no.

“What about your friend?” the bartender added. “She looks like she's got a good pair on her.”

Ingrid looked at Camille, who shrugged. “Why not?” she said. She moved forward, sliding her dress straps off her shoulders. Her dress fell down as far as her waist, revealing her boobs to the world. The bartender leant across the bar, and took one in each of his hands and gave them a gentle squeeze.

“Just what I thought,” he said. “I like a big, firm pair. What was your order?”

While he went to pour the drinks, Camille saw the cute, blond guy she had been ogling earlier now staring at her. Their eyes met, and he smiled. He said something to his girlfriend, who laughed, and then he took his arm from around her and moved towards Camille.

“I've got to say,” he said, still looking at her boobs, “you must attract a lot of guys with those.”

It was a very Kaymalan compliment, and Camille wasn't sure how to respond, but she settled on saying, “Not too many yet.”

“See you later, Camille,” said Ingrid, gathering up their drinks from the bar and slipping away.

The guy briefly held up his wrist to show Camille his purple wristband, and Camille showed him hers. The wristbands were colour coded by how long ago the wearer had had a check-up; an important measure in a place like Kaymala.

The guy started to run his fingers over Camille's breasts, gently caressing at first, then starting to squeeze. His cock, hanging loose out of the front of his trousers, hardened up. Camille reached out to grab it, enjoying the way it felt in her hands.

One of the guy's hands moved down Camille's body to the hem of her dress, then slipped up inside. If he was surprised to feel her panties soaked with piss he didn't show it. He pulled her panties down until they fell to her feet, and Camille kicked them away into the crowd. Then he lifted the front of her dress and eased himself into her, pushing her back against the bar. Camille felt a ripple of pleasure run through her body. The man was a good fit. He started to thrust against Camille, each movement making her gasp.

As she shuddered, Camille stared over the guy's shoulder towards the dancers. Across the room was a raised stage where a group of naked women and men danced around poles. A small crowd gathered to watch, many of them openly wanking themselves off or fingering each other. Camille lost herself in watching the beautiful dancers while her Kaymalan guy did his work on her.

Camille saw somebody from the crowd climbing up on stage to take one of the empty poles. With a start, she recognised her friend Olivia. Olivia had somehow lost her dress completely, and was naked except for her heels. Piercings on her nipples and vagina glinted in the strobe lighting. The girl clearly knew how to pole dance, moving in ways that made it look like she was levitating. Watching her friend, Camille groaned and moved herself faster against the Kaymalan guy. The ripples of pleasure came closer and closer together, and quickly she felt an orgasm break over her. She moaned, drawing smirks from a couple of the people stood in the queue for drinks.

The guy came not long after, shooting his load deep inside her. He pulled himself out of her. “Thanks,” he said, and slipped away through the crowd.

For a few seconds, Camille leant against the bar, panting. There was cum running down her leg. She wiped it off with the hem of her dress. The people queueing at the bar seemed for the most part ignored her and what had just happened. People screwed here all the time, after all, so there was nothing unusual about it.

Camille bought another drink and made her way through the crowd in the direction Ingrid had gone. She caught up with the girl dancing with a man, him cupping her bare ass and her with her hands down his trousers. Seeing Camille though, Ingrid muttered something to the man and pulled away from him.

“Don't let me interrupt you,” Camille said, though the man was already moving away.

Ingrid shrugged. “I wasn't going to fuck him anyway,” she said. “Good-looking, but he didn't have much down there. Have you seen --”

“Olivia?” Camille said, looking again towards the pole-dancing stage where Olivia was still holding her audience. “She's pretty hot.”

“So hot,” Ingrid said, looking in the same direction. “I didn't know she could dance. I guess she comes here a lot.”

“Where'd everyone else go?” Camille asked.

“Hooked up,” Ingrid said. “Simon's just sat over there.” She gestured at a table on the edge of the dance floor, where Simon was sat, being fellated by a blonde woman in a yellow dress.

“Apparently they met on the flight here,” Ingrid added. “Boy's making himself at home quickly. And Chris went off with some guy, I didn't see where. Want to dance?”

They wrapped their arms around each other and danced close, Ingrid's naked body against Camille's clothed one. Ingrid's hands went to cup Camille's backside, and she smirked.

“You've taken your underwear off, Camille,” she said. “I guess you hit it off with our friend at the bar then? Was he good?”

Camille shrugged. “He was fine. I wouldn't say he was anything special.”

“Most people are fine,” Ingrid said with a chuckle. “It's good when you get an exceptional fuck, but it can be hard to tell who will be.”

Camille turned to watch Olivia on the stage again. “She's so fine. I really want to fuck her, you know?”

“I know what you mean,” Ingrid said.

They watched as Olivia finished her routine. She ended halfway up the pole, suspended by her arms while her legs were splayed out towards the crowd. Her gaggle of onlookers cheered and whooped. Then, still holding that position, Olivia started to pee, spraying piss out over the onlookers, who cheered harder than ever.

“Oh my god,” Camille said.

“I want to fuck her so bad,” Ingrid said.

“I'm so horny right now,” Camille said.

Ingrid shifted position, dancing even closer to Camille. Their boobs were pressed up against each other now, their legs interlocked through the fabric of Camille's dress. Through the fabric, Camille could feel Ingrid's pussy pressed up against her leg.

“Listen,” Camille said, “I really need to pee. Do you mind --”

“Just go,” Ingrid said, “I don't give a fuck.”

Camille did as she said and pissed. Her drinks had gone through her quickly, and it came out with force. She could feel it running down her legs, and knew it was running down Ingrid's as well. The hem of Camille's dress that separated the two girls was soaked through.

“You know what?” Ingrid said. “That actually feels good. I can see why it turns you on.”

She was rocking backwards and forwards, rubbing her slit against Camille's leg. Camille responded in kind, massing her clit on Ingrid's leg. They swayed together on the dance floor, moving in time with one another, each stimulating the other. Camille moaned. She pulled her skirt out of the way, so that she could feel Ingrid's bare flesh against hers. Both of them were still wet with Camille's piss. Ingrid had her hands cupped around Camille's buttocks, squeezing and using them to pull herself back and forth. Camille put one hand on Ingrid's ass, and with the other reached up for the girl's pert little boobs.

“I really like these,” Camille said.

“I like yours,” Ingrid replied. She moved one hand up to slip Camille's dress off her shoulders, freeing her tits. She bent down to suck on one of Camille's nipples.

“It's crazy that we haven't done this before now,” said Camille.

“Well, let's make up for lost time,” said Ingrid, straightening up. She resumed their position with interlocking pussies, and they started to rub against each other again. A couple of people nearby were watching them, intrigued -- Camille saw Simon staring at them while the blonde girl gave him head. She pulled Ingrid a few steps away, so that there were people blocking his view. Ingrid was panting, and Camille moaned under her breath. Their hands were moving all over each other's bodies, grasping and groping. They kissed, then broke apart as Camille moaned louder.

They came, one after the other. They stayed holding each other for some time, breathing deeply. Camille could smell Ingrid's sweat and her wet pussy.

“You know what?” Ingrid said after a few minutes. “I need a piss as well. Hold still.”

And she pissed against the bare skin of Camille's leg, as Camille had done to her before. It splashed up against Camille's waist before trickling in rivulets down both of their legs. Camille shivered at the warmth.

“You want to fuck again?” she asked.

“Not gonna say no,” said Ingrid. She slipped a hand down between their legs, and began to massage Camille's pussy, while Camille tipped her head back and closed her eyes. Yes, it was certainly a night that Camille would remember.

This is a story set in the 'Kaymala' world -- you should be able to read these in any order, but if interested the first episode (and the introduction of Simon) is here

************************************************

It was a hot Sunday afternoon in Kaymala; the sky was deep blue and the air was balmy. Simon had a short walk from the bus stop to the hostel he would be staying at. It was a pleasant walk through the cobbled streets of Kusti, the capital city. The town was busy with people out to enjoy the sunshine, some shopping, others sat around outside cafes drinking coffees and beers. The air smelled of hot stone, flowers, and urine.

The weather gave people an excuse to strip off some clothes, and Kaymalans never passed up such an excuse. Simon couldn't help gawping -- that woman looking into a shop window, seeming not to notice her oh-so-short dress blowing up in the wind to reveal perfectly formed buttocks; or the group of women chatting outside a coffee shop without a stitch on any of them, four pairs of pale breasts glowing in the sunlight.

His hostel was not far outside the town centre, on the road that ran along the river front. It was a smallish, cosy-looking place, three storeys with balconies on the top two floors. The reviews had said it was a laid-back kind of place.

He went in to a crowded reception room. A group of tourists were just checking out, and the small foyer area was full of people and their suitcases. Simon hung back to wait for them, scanning a row of leaflets that hung on the wall: walking tours, museums, massage parlours, and other days out.

A guy came down the stairs and joined Simon in the queue. He was in his early twenties like Simon, a touch taller and more solidly built, with tanned skin. He wore shorts and a tank top.

“You're just arriving?” he said. “I haven't seen you here before.”

“Just arriving, yeah,” Simon said. “From the UK. I'm Simon.”

The other guy shook his hand. “Marco, from Spain. Your first time in Kaymala? How do you like it so far?”

“Oh, I think I could quite like it here,” Simon said, glancing through the open door to the street. A couple in their thirties were walking past, both in shorts and nothing else.

Marco followed Simon's gaze and laughed. “The girls are pretty, right?”

“How about you, how long have you been here?”

Marco took a second to reply, as he was concentrating on undoing the drawstring on his shorts. “Yeah, a few weeks so far,” he said. “This time. I come every year though, my cousin works here. Don't mind me, I just need a quick piss.”

He turned to piss up one of the wood-panelled walls, grinning at Simon's expression. “You look surprised, it must be your first time here.”

“I forgot where I was for a moment,” Simon said. He watched Marco's piss run down the wall and pool on the floor. No-one else in the room was paying Marco the slightest bit of attention.

“It's a good country,” Marco said, finishing up and shaking himself off. “And, they love foreigners here. You and I are like gold dust. Round here you could have any cock or pussy you take a fancy to, just tell them where you're from.”

The group of tourists finished checking out and moved aside, letting Simon and Marco move up to the counter. The girl behind the counter handed Marco a phone, which had been charging in a socket behind her, then smiled at Simon. She had dark hair, tanned skin the same shade as Marco's, and a piercing through one nostril. She wore a green dress, of the kind that looks like a baggy t-shirt that falls to mid-thigh.

“Hi,” she said, “I'm Olivia. You must be Simon, right?”

She chatted while she filled in his paperwork. She and Marco were cousins, but she had moved here from Spain several years ago.

At one point she asked, “Have you had your check-up?”

Simon nodded, and showed her the purple wristband a doctor had given him, with that day's date written on it. She grinned and flashed her own, and ticked something off on the form she was filling in.

Once the paperwork was done she handed Simon a key and said, “Come on, I'll show you around.”

The ground floor was taken up with a breakfast room and kitchen. Olivia led Simon up a flight of stairs.

“This is the main floor. Help yourself to any books you want to read,” she said, indicating a set of bookshelves against one wall. “They've all been left by people. Upstairs from here there are some single and double rooms. There's a couple of toilets up there as well, for when you need a shit, and there's a balcony. Some people up there now, if you want to join them. This room is the showers -- oh, sorry, Ingrid.”

Olivia had pushed open the door to another room, an open-plan shower room with half a dozen shower heads around the walls. There was a woman using one of the showers. She smiled at them, all ginger hair and wet boobs.

“This is Ingrid,” said Olivia, “she's Kaymalan, from the mountains up north. Ingrid, this is Simon.”

Olivia shut the door again, which Simon was slightly disappointed about, and led him across to one of the dorm rooms.

“This is where you'll be,” she said.

It was a six-bunk room. The floor was wood-panelled and discoloured in places. Every so often around the walls there were discoloured streaks running down from about waist height.

“That bed is free,” Olivia said, pointing at one of the bottom bunks. “You're with a good crowd in here, they're all cool people. Best not to leave anything on the floor,” she added, pointing to the cubby hole that was beside each bed. “If you need to piss, just go anywhere. Someone comes around with a mop a few times a day.”

“Anywhere at all?” Simon asked.

“Sure. Piss the bed if you like. As long as you don't damage anything, I don't give a fuck,” Olivia said. “If you ever need clean sheets there's some in the cupboard. Look, I'm not from around here either, and I know it can seem weird at first, but it's really so much easier, just watch.”

She pulled her dress up to waist height and peed standing. It arced forward slightly to land between them, splashing across the floorboards. Simon was entranced by the sight -- both her pissing, which had its own kind of beauty, and her vulva.

Olivia caught him watching and smiled. “You like what you see?” she asked, as her pee slowed to a dribble. “The piercing's new. Have a feel if you want to.”

Simon reached out to run his fingers along the skin around her slit, still wet with her piss. That piercing did feel interesting. He suddenly felt a spurt of fresh piss hit his hand, and pulled his hand back in surprise. Olivia laughed.

“Sorry,” she said, letting her dress fall back into place, “I couldn't resist. I should get back to the desk, I'm sure I'll see you around.”

Left alone in the room, Simon adjusted his jeans and started to unpack. He lifted his suitcase up into the cubby hole that Olivia had pointed out, which would keep it off the floor and out of anyone's pee puddles. There was a small shelf at the head of the bed, so Simon arranged a couple of books and other possessions on it, to make the bunk feel more homely.

That done, he sank onto the edge of his bed, his hand going to the inside of his jeans. He still had a solid erection. He wondered if he'd have time to jerk off without being interrupted.

Just as he was thinking that, the door opened and a naked woman walked in. It was Ingrid, the girl who had been in the shower. She carried a towel over one shoulder, and apart from that there was not a stitch on her. She was probably in her early twenties, short and thin, her skin pale and freckled. Her boobs were compact and pert, with dark, marble-sized nipples. Damp ginger hair hung to her shoulders, and made a neat triangle shape between her legs.

“Hi again,” she said. “Simon, right? You just arrived?”

“That's right,” Simon said.

“Do you have plans for the evening?” she said. “A group of us are hanging around on the balcony upstairs, if you want to join us.”

Simon tried to drag his eyes away from her boobs. “Sure,” he said, “sounds good.”

She crossed the room to one of the cubby holes and bent over to pick something out of it -- her ass was freckled as well. A moment later she straightened up holding two beers, and handed one to Simon.

“Follow me,” she said, heading upstairs. Simon followed, trying to rearrange his trousers to make his hard-on less obvious.

She led him up to the top floor and out onto the balcony. As Ingrid had said, there were a few people out here already. Marco was here, as were another guy and a girl, all of them leaning back in deck chairs. Ingrid took one of the vacant deck chairs. “This is Simon, everyone,” she said. She leaned back in her chair, closing her eyes.

Simon pulled up a chair for himself as well. The other girl present waved.

“This is Camille,” said Marco. “She's only been here a couple of days, but she seems to be settling in well.”

“Good to meet you,” Camille said, her accent unmistakeably French. She was wearing a red sundress that clung to her skin, accenting her pair of powerfully-built tits. The dress came down to her thighs, and she sat with her legs spread slightly, so Simon could see a flash of white panties.

“And I'm Christopher,” said the other guy, raising a hand in greeting. He wore a pair of loose shorts and no shirt. “Kaymalan, from up in the hills.”

“I see you've met Ingrid already,” Marco said. “She's pretty, no? She's a good fuck if you have time. Very nice pussy.”

Ingrid raised her middle finger at him without opening her eyes.

“She doesn't like being talked about like that,” Camille said.

“I'm fine with people talking about my pussy,” Ingrid said. “I just don't like Marco advertising it like it's a tourist attraction.”

She leant over to pick up a pack of cigarettes from the table and lit one.

“We going out tonight?” she asked.

“Will be,” Marco said. To Simon, he added, “A few of us are gonna go hit a couple of bars tonight. You want to join us?”

“Maybe not tonight,” said Simon, “bit tired.”

“Another night, then,” Marco said. “You have to see the clubs here. Fantastic. Clothes completely optional, and the dancers …”

“You have plans while you're here?” Christopher asked Simon.

Simon shrugged. “I thought I'd see what there was to do,” he said. “Some of the museums sounded interesting, maybe, and I want to go to the beach at some point.”

“The museum of Kaymalan culture is interesting,” Camille said. “Very … interactive.”

“The beach isn't far away,” Marco said. “It's good for sunbathing. If you want to surf you have to go a bit further along the coast.”

“And there's a massage place down the road that I recommend,” said Christopher, “if you want to see what Kaymalan massages are like.”

After a while the conversation tailed off, and the group watched in silence as the sun sank lower in the sky. A pleasantly cool evening breeze was rising. There was no wall around the balcony, just a set of railings that gave them a good view of the street below and the river across the road, while also meaning any passers-by would be able to see right up to where they sat. The view of the river was beautiful, but Simon found it hard to concentrate on it, given how distracting his fellow hostel guests were.

On one side of Simon, Ingrid was staring into the distance, drawing on her cigarette. A spot of ash had landed on her right breast, just above the nipple. Her skin was just starting to pimple in the cooling air. On his other side, Camille had put on a pair of headphones and was tapping in time with whatever music it was. With each tap she twisted her shoulders, making her boobs move slightly beneath her tight dress.

Without warning, the quiet was broken by the pattering sound of liquid landing on tiles. Simon looked around. For several seconds he couldn't see where it was coming from. Then he noticed rivulets of something running out from beneath the recliner beside his. Leaning back slightly, he could see the source: a stream of urine soaking through the fabric of Camille's chair. The woman was pissing completely nonchalantly, not only through the chair but through her dress and panties as well. Simon could just see the edge of a damp patch spreading through her dress. Apart from that and the sound, he would never have known what she was doing: she continued to tap in time with her music as though nothing was happening. Her companions also showed no reaction. This, apparently, was nothing out of the ordinary.

Just as the sun was sinking below the horizon, the door to the balcony swung open and Olivia from the check-in desk appeared, a bottle of beer already in her hands.

“Yo,” she said, popping the lid off her bottle. “Christ, I'm happy to be finished for the day. It's been busy all afternoon. You guys look like you've had a productive day.”

“As productive as a holiday should be,” said Christopher, raising his bottle. She gave him a chink and laughed. She leant against the railing, pulling the hem of her dress up to her waist with one hand while she took a swig of her beer with the other. She leant forward slightly while she pissed, sending her clear, forceful stream out behind her so that it arced away from the balcony and down to the street below.

“God, I needed this,” she said. “I've wanted to piss for an hour, but I couldn't get away from the desk.”

“Why didn't you piss behind your desk?” said Marco.

Olivia shrugged. “I just don't like to be sitting in my puddle all day.” Her stream petered out as she spoke. She wiggled her bum to shake off the worst of the droplets from her slit, and wiped the rest dry on the back of her hand. “Are we going out tonight?”

“Of course,” said Camille.

“Is the newbie coming?” Olivia asked, looking at Simon.

Perhaps it was the beer Simon had been drinking, or perhaps it was being surrounded by attractive and uninhibited girls, but Simon's earlier tiredness had faded away. He nodded.

“What are we hanging around here for then?” Olivia asked. “The sun's set, it's evening. Let's go have some fun.”

This is a story set in the 'Kaymala' world -- you should be able to read these in any order, but if interested the previous and first one is here

************************************************

Ellen leant back in her chair, eyeing the clock on the far wall of the open-plan office. It was just past five. Her friend Jasmine was supposed to be meeting her here any time now. Ellen glanced once more at her inbox, and sighed. She was in no mood to keep working today. She put her feet up on her desk, lifted her skirt, and slipped a couple of fingers into her slit, playing gently with herself. She attracted the attention of a couple of the others in the room, who weren't subtle in turning to watch what she was doing. The man at the desk beside hers craned his head for a better view. Ellen winked at him, before closing her eyes so that the onlookers didn't distract her.

It was good to be back in a country where such things were allowed. Ellen had spent the past week abroad for a conference in Copenhagen -- her first trip overseas. Interesting though it had been to see another country, she had found the rules of foreign society difficult to live by. Now that she was back in Kaymala she was making full use of the pleasures of being home again. She had put on her shortest skirt with no panties, perfect for lifting up and pissing under her desk whenever she felt like it. She had joined her boss in taking a leak while chatting beside the water cooler. At lunchtime she had got good use out of her vibrator while she sat with her friends in the canteen.

“Hey, Ellen,” came Jasmine's voice, breaking Ellen out of her reverie. “You look like you're having fun.”

Ellen shrugged. “I was just passing time.” She gave her clit one final rub before pulling her skirt back into place. “Shall we go?”

They walked together towards the lifts, chatting about how their days had gone. Jasmine wore suit trousers and a jacket over a white blouse. She was a few inches shorter than Ellen, with untidy black hair to Ellen's straight and blond, and petite breasts to Ellen's more full pair -- but she had a plump ass that attracted many a boy's attention. She could do wonderful things with her hands, as Ellen knew from experience. The two had been friends from their university days, but as they worked on different floors of the building they hadn't seen each other since Ellen got back from the conference.

Jasmine was undoing her trousers as they stepped into the lift, and had pulled them off and squatted over the vinyl floor before the doors had closed. She peed a powerful stream towards the centre of the lift.

“Looks like you've been needing that for a while,” Ellen said, amused.

“I really have,” Jasmine said. “It's been a busy afternoon, and you know I don't like to pee at my desk.”

The lift doors opened, and a man from floor three joined them.

“Afternoon, ladies,” he said, nodding at them both. He stepped carefully on the floor to avoid Jasmine's still-spreading pee puddle.

“Afternoon, Mikah,” Jasmine said. “Don't mind me, I'll be done soon.”

“Don't rush on my account,” said Mikah. His eyes lingered on Jasmine's pussy, which he had a clear view of with the way her legs were spread.

“We were just headed to the pool, Mikah,” Ellen said. “How about you?”

“On my way to the same place,” Mikah said. “There's no practise this week, but the wife's away and some exercise will do me good.”

Outside of work hours, Mikah was the coach for a football team at the nearby university. He was a powerfully-built, broad-shouldered man in his late twenties. Ellen had seen him at the gym a couple of times before, and always found the sight rather attractive.

Jasmine finished her piss and wiped herself with a tissue from the box that was kept in the elevator for just such occasions. The puddle was already draining away through a grille in the corner of the floor. She didn't bother to put her trousers back on, instead slinging them over her shoulder. Employees were supposed to wear clothes while they were in the office building for reasons of 'professionalism', but Jasmine wasn't the only person to strip off bits of clothing as soon as they left, especially on a nice day like this.

The three of them left the office and cut across the park towards the gym. The weather was warm and sunny, and the park was busy, especially along the riverbank which was thronging with naked sunbathers. Ellen's attention was drawn to a young couple who were hungrily fucking each other against the trunk of a willow tree. The man had a nice ass, she noted.

“You never said how the conference was, Ellen,” Jasmine said. “What was Copenhagen like? Did you fuck any foreigners? That's something special if you did.”

“Not at the conference,” Ellen said. “There was a guy on the plane who was a pretty good fuck, but nobody else. They do things differently out there. I asked a couple of guys if they wanted to screw, but they seemed to think I was joking. Or when they realised I was serious, they'd make excuses about having wives or girlfriends -- they have this whole monogamy thing, you know.”

“Monogamy's pretty common out there, right? I've heard that before,” Mikah said. “It sounds damned restrictive.”

“Oh, they love to be restricted,” Ellen said. “All these rules they have. Don't piss here, don't take your clothes off there. I couldn't keep track of it all. The hotel had a pool, so I went down for a swim one morning before the conference talks -- and some security guard sent me back to my room because I wasn't wearing a swimming costume! So I went out to buy a costume, and came back the next day, and I got sent away again!”

“What was it for the second time?” Jasmine asked.

“I took a piss of the edge of my sun lounger. I was sunbathing, I wasn't about to go wandering off to find a toilet.”

“You can't even piss on the poolside?” Mikah asked. “Do they think people aren't pissing in the pool itself?”

“That's what I said to the guard, but he didn't seem to like that idea either. I tell you, it's a hard place to live out there. We don't realise how lucky we have it.”

Ellen paused to lift up her skirt, baring all for the world around. She squatted slightly and pissed, full force, onto the path. Few people took any notice of her. An elderly gent behind her tutted at her for blocking the path, and a group of teenagers on a nearby bench started whispering and shooting her aroused but furtive looks, as though afraid at what she would do if she caught them looking. Mikah was giving her the same appreciative look he had given Jasmine in the elevator.

“It's good to be back,” Ellen said.

They carried on to the gym. It was a newish centre that served the offices in the business park, as well the surrounding housing estates. They walked in through reception, flashing their membership cards at the woman behind the desk. She was sat with one hand down her trousers, watching porn on her phone, and barely glanced at them as they passed.

“That girl's got a serious addiction,” Mikah commented. “Every time I come here, she's on the porn.”

They climbed the stairs and came out, through a pair of double doors, directly onto the poolside. It was as busy as it always was at this time of day. Perhaps twenty or thirty people were in the water, their voices echoing in the high-ceilinged room. Most of them were naked, but as always there were a couple of people who preferred to wear trunks or swimming costumes.

Signs around the walls reminded people of the rules, including several which read, “Please leave the pool to pee” -- a vain attempt by the staff to keep the pool water clean. Some people obeyed the rule: as Ellen looked around the room, she could see a couple of men who had climbed out to piss against the nearest wall, and a mother who was squatting in front of the lockers and peeing discreetly while her children changed. However, Ellen could also see a young woman sat on the edge of the pool, her legs akimbo, spraying piss over the surface a clear foot in front of her. The woman's friends were stood in the water around her, all laughing. A pool attendant was sat in the raised lifeguard's chair only a few metres away, but he seemed to be watching in amusement rather than challenging the girls.

Ellen, Jasmine and Mikah made their way over to a nearby bench to get changed. One of the things Ellen had found strange while she was abroad was the concept of a 'changing room' -- the idea that people needed a designated area where they could change. The strangest part was that men and women had to be segregated for the process, just in case you saw somebody you were attracted to without their clothes on. (Apart from anything else, the idea only seemed to work if you pretended that gay or bi people didn't exist -- but she had noticed that some people outside Kaymala had a habit of doing that.)

At Kaymalan swimming pools, there were no changing rooms. Benches, lockers and showers were arranged along the poolside. A couple of changing cubicles were provided for the shy, but not many people used them; and a door led to a small bathroom, which was also rarely used.

Ellen put her bag down on the bench and began to strip her clothes off. Beside her, Jasmine and Mikah were doing the same.

“You must be looking forward to swimming in a pool you won't be chucked out of,” Mikah said, as he unfastened and pulled down his work trousers.

“Totally,” Ellen said, pulling her shirt up over her head. She gestured towards Mikah's boxer briefs, which were stretched tight and bulging forwards. “You seem pretty happy to be here as well.”

Mikah shrugged as he pulled his briefs down, letting his erect cock hang free. “It's always nice to see naked ladies, and I admit you two are particularly fine.”

Jasmine smirked. “How long did you say your wife's been out of town?”

“She's been gone all week,” Mikah said. “I've got to admit I'm thirsting for something.”

Ellen unfastened her bra, giving Jasmine a suggestive look. “Perhaps we'll see what we can do about that.”

“Well, I'm not going to say no to that,” Mikah said. He locked his bag in one of row of lockers behind him, tying the key around his wrist. He then stood back a little, pointing his stiff penis forwards. He started to piss with a powerful stream that splashed up the front of the lockers.

“Which of us do you want?” Jasmine asked. She came across to stand next to Ellen, both of them naked. “Ellen's got those tits, look.”

“Jasmine's got the ass, though,” Ellen said, giving her friend's ass a playful slap. “And she's great at fingerwork.”

Jasmine laughed. “Forget that, you should see what Ellen can do with her tongue.”

Mikah chuckled. His stream was dying away. He shook himself off, turning back to face the two women. “You both look hot as hell, and I've got plenty of stamina. Why don't we take turns?”

Ellen and Jasmine looked at each other.

“You can go first,” Jasmine said, “it sounds like you've been starved of cock all week.” She gave Ellen's bum a playful pinch and headed off towards the diving boards.

Ellen took Mikah's hand and led him towards the shallow end. They jumped in. Ellen shivered at the feel of the warm water on her flesh.

Mikah moved close to her. He put his hands out for her breasts and started to massage them, his movements slow and surprisingly gentle for a man his size. Ellen reached down for his cock under the water and gave it some strokes, appreciating the feel of it -- not just its size, which was certainly remarkable, but how solid and meaty it felt.

She guided Mikah over to the pool wall and whispered that he should stay there, then she jumped out to sit on the poolside, wrapping her legs around his torso. He was now looking up at her, his face level with her tits, her crotch pressed against his muscular stomach.

She felt a touch of pressure in her bladder, so she relaxed and let it go. The feeling of her piss spurting between her flesh and his sent shudders through her entire body. Mikah was smirking, clearly into it. He lowered himself down until his mouth was level with Ellen's pussy, and he started to probe her with his tongue. Ellen found a few more spurts of piss to push out, which he eagerly lapped up. Then she leant back on her arms to enjoy it, breathing heavily.

The girl who had been playing around pissing into the water earlier was now elbowing her friends, pointing at Ellen and Mikah and giggling. The lifeguard was watching from his chair, his expression interested, a bulge in the front of his shorts. Ellen, enjoying the attention, gave him a sultry wink.

Feeling it was time to step things up, Ellen slipped back into the water. She felt for Mikah's cock and guided him inside her, enjoying how well he fit. He pushed her back against the pool wall and started to thrust.

She came before he did, letting out a loud gasp that echoed around the pool. Then he came, grunting as he did, shooting cum deep within her. When he pulled his cock out of her slit a cloud of cum drifted out as well, floating in the water between them. Both of them were panting and sweating. A couple of swimmers had stopped to watch, including the woman who had peed from the poolside and her friends, all of whom were eyeing Mikah's body and giving Ellen congratulatory looks.

“That certainly cleared the pipes,” Mikah said. “I've needed that for a while.”

“Tell me about it,” Ellen said. “That was just what I needed today. You still have another go in you? You did promise Jasmine.”

Mikah laughed as he pulled himself out to sit on the poolside. “Give me five minutes and I'll have it up again. You hanging around to watch?”

“I should do some lengths,” Ellen said.

“All right, but we might do this again sometime,” Mikah said. “Perhaps you could come over next week, meet the wife? We'll put on a dinner party.”

As he spoke, he widened his legs slightly and pissed with a strong arc, hands-free, into the water between them. Ellen smiled.

“I'd like that,” she said.

She pushed away to start swimming. As she swam, she saw the lifeguard push his cock through the leg of his shorts and pee, right from his chair onto the poolside. She saw a woman climb out at the deep end and sit on the steps to the diving board, her piss running over the metal and into the drain beneath. She saw Jasmine approach Mikah and start to play with his cock, while he ran his fingers over her tits.

Yes, it was definitely good to be back home.

 

The last in this series, though I'd like to visit these characters again at some point. If you want to go from the start, part one is here http://peefans.com/index.php?/topic/8297-the-holiday-pt-1-on-the-beach/

____________________________________________________

I woke up late on the morning of the last day of our holiday. From the sunlight filtering through the canvas I could tell it was another gorgeous day. I glanced at my phone and saw it was half past ten. Later than I would normally sleep, but we were on holiday after all.

I had a text from Maddie telling me that she and Adam were on their way over. It would take them some time to get here, so there was no rush to get ready. The plan was to have a barbecue to celebrate our last day here. Not that it was the last we would see of them; we would be at university together in a month's time.

I crawled out from my sleeping bag and into the outer tent. Our tent was quite small: we had an inner tent with enough room to sleep two, and a small area between the inner tent and the door that we called the outer tent, which was where we kept our bags. There was no ground sheet in the outer tent, which -- we had realised a few days into the holiday -- made it the perfect peeing spot.

I squatted over the damp grass, concentrating until my pee started to gush. My first pee of the morning is always strong, and in the hot, enclosed air the smell was distinct.

David sat up in bed, yawning. “Morning,” he said. He noticed what I was doing and chuckled.

“Morning,” I said, finishing up. I wiped myself on my hand, and wiped that on my top. I climbed back into bed.

David had stuck one of his hands down inside his sleeping bag, clearly administering to a different first-thing-in-the-morning need. I smiled.

“Do you want a hand?” I asked.

“No, I'm fine,” David said. Then a moment later he shrugged. “In fact, why not. It's hardly the weirdest thing we've done this holiday.”

I reached over, feeling down into his sleeping bag. “You say that like you don't enjoy it.”

As my hand found his cock, he smiled. “I didn't say that at all.”

David's eyes were closed in pleasure, a slight smile playing around his mouth. I started absent-mindedly grinding my crotch against his leg through the sleeping bag as my hand dealt with him.

We must have lost track of time. Before we knew it a car was pulling up outside the tent, and we could hear Maddie's voice outside.

“Come on you two, get up.”

“Ten more minutes,” I said.

Maddie laughed. Adam said, “If you don't get up, I'm going to pee against your tent.”

“If you must, we're not going to stop you,” David said. He leant into me, and I kept playing with his cock.

“Don't say I didn't warn you,” Adam said. There were a few seconds of silence, then suddenly we heard the sound of water pattering on the canvas.

David and I laughed. “I didn't think he was actually going to do it,” said David.

“You should know by now,” I said.

A few minutes later David tensed and came inside his sleeping bag. I was horny, but I decided not to finish myself off quite yet.

I unzipped the tent flap and looked out. Maddie and Adam were busying themselves setting up the barbecue. Maddie was wearing a plaid shirt and red bikini bottoms, while Adam was in swimming shorts and a t-shirt. The campsite was quiet; a lot of people had packed up and left already.

I climbed out of the tent, naked from the waist down. Adam looked up and gave a mock wolf-whistle.

“You're spoiling us with that view, Sarah,” he said.

“Oh, hush. It's nothing you haven't seen before,” I said.

“Nice of you to join us,” Maddie said. “What have you two been doing in there, anyway?”

“None of your business,” I said, smiling.

Adam laughed. “Dirty.”

David joined us outside, fastening his jeans; unlike me, he had decided to get dressed.

“Sorry about peeing on your tent, by the way,” Adam said. “I hope that wasn't a joke too far.”

David shrugged. “No problem. In fact, since we'll have to wash it anyway...”

He turned to face our tent, pulling his own cock out. A few seconds later he was peeing right on the wet patch Adam had left.

“Wow,” said Maddie, “you guys have changed. I like it.”

Before long we had the barbecue lit and the sausages sizzling. While the sausages cooked, we talked about university.

“You'll have to come find us the first day,” Maddie said, who was perched on Adam's lap. “We'll show you all the best places. We've got this house we rent -- but you'll see.”

“It's a great uni,” Adam said. “The girls are hot as hell.”

Maddie gave him a playful punch on the shoulder. “Adam likes to look at the girls, but they don't let him get any closer.”

“Some of them do,” Adam said. “Besides, I have the best-looking girl right here.”

He started to play with the buttons on her shirt, unfastening them one at a time. She didn't complain, and before long the shirt was open, her boobs exposed for the world to see. Adam started to massage them, his fingers playing with each nipple.

“You know, I think these sausages are done,” David said, standing to look at the barbecue. “Do you guys want them now?”

“Sure,” said Maddie, brushing Adam's hands away from her boobs, but not making any effort to cover herself up. I realised I had been absent-mindedly playing with myself, and quickly sat up straight. David picked the sausages off the barbecue and passed plates and buns around to all of us.

As we ate, an elderly couple walked past on their way to the toilet block. The man was staring in disbelief at Maddie's boobs and at my crotch, while the woman was giving us a dirty look. I opened my legs a little wider to give them a better look. Maddie chuckled.

“This food turned out good,” I said.

“Yeah, well done team,” Adam said. “It'll be weird not having you guys around any more.”

“We'll see you in a few weeks,” I said. “And until then I'll think of you every time I pee somewhere unusual.”

“Speaking of which,” said Maddie, “this beer's gone right through me. Don't mind me, everybody.”

There was a hissing sound, barely audible over the wind. A wet patch appeared at the crotch of her bikini bottoms, and then pee was trickling down over Adam's legs. It pooled on the camping chair, drenching Adam's shorts; and then it started to soak through the fabric of the chair. A stream started to fall from underneath the chair, making a pattering noise as it landed in the grass.

“Me too, actually,” I said.

“Don't let us stop you,” Maddie said. “Ah! I'd been needing that for a while.”

I stood up. Peeing in the chair like Maddie was doing looked fun enough, but I had a better idea. I walked over to the barbecue, which was not needed anymore but was still smouldering. On the bricks Maddie and Adam had piled up it was about knee-height -- just perfect. I lifted one leg, pulled my slit up so that the stream would point forwards, and concentrated. At first my stream dribbled down my leg, but after a few seconds it built up some pressure and arced forwards. It hissed as it splashed over the hot coals. Strong-smelling steam drifted off. I pissed for a long time, and by the time I'd finished most of the embers had been extinguished by the blast.

Adam clapped appreciatively. “Nice one.”

I sat back down in my chair, feeling both relieved and pleased. “It was asking to be done,” I said. “Someone had to.”

“Well, I think it must be my turn,” Adam said. “Mind if I stand up, dear?”

Maddie stood to let him out. He pulled down his shorts, wet with Maddie's pee, and kicked them away.

“We seem to keep upping the ante,” he said. “So I suppose I have to outdo Sarah now.”

“Do your best,” I said.

He took a couple of steps towards me. “Stay where you are, Sarah,” he said.

My breath caught in my throat, but I didn't move out of the way. I just said, “Not on my face, please.”

He started to pee. His stream hit my right boob first, dead on the nipple. I couldn't resist a shiver of pleasure. Warm pee quickly soaked the thin fabric of my nightie, running in rivulets down the material and pooling in the chair seat around my butt. I could feel drips running down the inside of my shirt as well, tickling the underside of my tits. A few drops sprayed up to hit me on the chin, so I lifted my head up slightly, keeping my mouth shut. He slowly guided his stream to one side, pointing at my other boob, moving it in small circles around my nipple -- which he could surely see by now through the wet fabric. The warm liquid, the sensation of it hitting me in intimate places, sent tingles of pleasure and anticipation through me.

By the time he had finished the front of my shirt was absolutely drenched and all but completely transparent. I was sitting in a puddle, which was slowly dripping through to the ground beneath. My body was aching for more.

Adam seemed to have enjoyed himself as well. His cock, still at my eye level, was hard already. I reached out for it with one hand, putting my other hand around one of his butt cheeks and guiding him closer. I opened my mouth and put my tongue on the end of his cock.

Beside us, I was vaguely aware of Maddie and David standing up, and heard Maddie say, “We'll give you two some privacy, shall we?” I ignored them.

I explored Adam's cock. I found there were certain spots that got a stronger reaction out of him -- not just the tip, but partway down the sides of the shaft as well. I played with it, experimenting with using my tongue and my lips, sometimes enclosing the whole head and sometimes not. He started to move with me, thrusting with my movements. His hands were on my shoulders and the back of my head, but he was oh so gentle about it. My own hand was down below, massaging my aching clitoris.

It wasn't very many minutes before he pulled sharply away from me. His load spurted onto my already piss-soaked chest. My own climax came just moments later. I moaned softly.

“Wow, Sarah,” said Adam, somewhat breathlessly. “No way that was your first time?”

I shrugged, short of breath myself. “Must be natural talent.”

Both still panting, we looked around. I wasn't sure if any of the other campers had seen us, but if they had, they were keeping their distance. Maddie and David had moved their chairs to the other side of the tent in the spirit of giving us some space, although from where they moved to they could clearly have seen everything if they had wanted.

“Sorry about your shirt,” Adam said.

“Don't worry, I've got others,” I said. I pulled the dirty shirt off and dropped it to the ground. At this stage worrying about modesty seemed silly. I crouched down next to the tent to look through my bag. I found a towel, which I used to towel myself down as much as I could, then dug out a shirt that hadn't been worn too much and pulled it on. I stayed naked from the waist down, as did Adam.

We carried our chairs around to join Maddie and David. David gave me a strange look -- part exasperated, part in awe. Maddie was just smiling.

“You owe me twenty quid, love,” Adam said to Maddie as we sat down with them.

She raised her eyebrows. “Does oral really count?”

“Sure it does. I let you count that bloke you sucked off outside TJ's.”

“Were you gambling on me?” I asked, indignant.

“Nothing personal,” Adam said. “Which of us would screw one of you two first. It's a long-running thing when we meet new people, or on nights out, you know.”

“You'll find out in a few weeks,” said Maddie, “at uni. I assume you will be coming on nights out with us?”

“If they're anything like you say they are, you try to keep me away,” I said.

Before long, it was time for David and I to leave. Maddie and Adam helped us pack away the tent, and then we were hugging our goodbyes.

“Look us up,” Maddie said, “as soon as you move in at uni. We've got so much to show you.”

Then Adam and Maddie were waving to us as we pulled off the campsite, until we rounded the corner and lost sight of them.

“It's been an interesting few days,” David said, winding the windows down a crack so that a breeze blew over us.

“You could say,” I said. With one hand I switched on the radio. With the other, I absent-mindedly started playing with myself. David noticed what I was doing and smiled.

It was certainly a holiday we would remember.