rochauthrowaway

A real short one today ... I have some other ideas for some very short stories as well. Contains outdoor female urination. You can read my other stories here.

...

This story is from just last weekend. My girlfriend, Riley, and I had decided to grab a pair of inner tubes and go floating down the winding river channel that cuts through the small city we live in. It seemed to me like a good way to both stay cool amid the early July heat and see Riley in a swimsuit.

Riley doesn’t disappoint. She wears a patternless black string bikini that struggles to contain both her perfect breasts and generous ass. I find myself unable to look anywhere else as we float lazily down the river, chat about nothing, and share a few beers disguised in thermos cups.

We only make it maybe forty minutes down the river when Riley reaches down and nonchalantly tugs the crotch panel of her bikini bottoms to the side of her cunt. I see both Riley’s trimmed black pubic hair and the inviting folds of her labia. Riley's clitoral hood features a little silver bead ring and the piercing sparkles in the afternoon sunlight.

“I need to piss,” Riley shrugs.

A moment later, a thick stream of urine bursts out from Riley's cunt. It jets out from between her labia and splashes noisily into the riverwater caught in the middle of her inner tube. Riley’s asshole, left partially exposed by the askew bikini bottoms, winks in and out while Riley goes on pissing.

Riley pisses for nearly a whole minute before she finishes. She lets out a relieved little sigh, releases a few final squirts of piss, and then tugs her bikini bottoms back over her cunt. She acts with complete indifference and the whole thing is over almost before I am entirely able to register it.

Riley catches me staring and grins. “I really had to do that,” she laughs. She pauses for a moment and takes a quick glance around for onlookers. “I don’t have to do this,” she then adds.

Riley, still grinning, then quickly pulls up her bikini top and flashes me her breasts.

It's a perfect summer afternoon.

I'm having a rather boring weekend so I managed to crank out my second story in two weeks in just a few hours (please also read High School Teacher Needs To Piss During Field Trip). This is definitely not my best writing (I feel like I say that a lot) but it's still nice to get something done. This is also yet another attractive-female-coworker-needs-to-piss story and is quite similar to this story I wrote previously. I do imagine a few readers of my stories may be starting to realize that all my stories are pretty much just variations on the exact same story, but it's what I enjoy writing and the formula seems to still get a pretty good reception around here.

Contains the usual dose of graphic descriptions of female public-ish urination.

***

This story takes place just a few weeks ago. I work at the Dallas office of a major American consulting company and had been sent out to do a seminar on conflict resolution techniques for an upstart tech company located in Fort Worth. Teaching conflict resolution is mostly just teaching common sense but I get paid pretty well to do it regardless.

Accompanying me to deliver the seminar was Mackenzie, a conflict resolution specialist who had joined the team a few months earlier. Mackenzie was twenty-six and a year younger than me, professional, and absolutely stunning. Perhaps because she and I were among the only employees at our office younger than thirty, Mackenzie and I got along well and had become friends almost immediately. I had thought a lot about asking her out on a date over the past few months but was also reluctant to potentially jeopardize the one workplace relationship I genuinely come to value.

Anyways, Mackenzie and I arrive at our downtown Dallas office early and sign a company car out to get us to the tech company’s office in Fort Worth. I drive while Mackenzie sits in the vehicle’s passenger seat and drinks from a comically oversized coffee mug. Traffic is slow and it takes the two of us a substantial amount time just to make it to the highway.

Mackenzie begins the car trip in her typically chatty manner. However, as time passes, she becomes quieter and quieter and her face gradually assumes a discomforted expression. I also notice Mackenzie continually crossing and uncrossing her legs and see her biting down on her lip every time I need to apply the car’s brakes. Also taking into account the coffee mug, it is more than apparent to me that Mackenzie needs to use a toilet.

We are just getting out of West Dallas when Mackenzie confirms my suspicions. “Jonathan – I need to go pee,” Mackenzie moans from between gritted teeth. “I really need to go pee.”

I offer to take the next exit and find a fast food place that Mackenzie could use. I figure it will still be twenty minutes or so until we arrive at our destination.

Mackenzie responds with a pained shake of her head. “I think I can hold it,” she responds, voice wavering just slightly. “But please try and hurry.”

Ultimately, it takes us just over half an hour to arrive in Fort Worth. By this time Mackenzie has lost all sense of propriety. She has turned ghost white and has one hand pressed between her legs. Occasionally she is possessed by a violent shiver.

Driving faster than I should, I find a parking garage more-or-less adjacent to the tech company’s warehouse building office and screech violently into the first parking spot I am able to find. I rush towards a ticketing machine in the far corner of the parking garage while Mackenzie, moving shockingly fast in stiletto heels, follows a few paces behind.

I’m just starting to key in the stall number into the ticketing machine when Mackenzie rushes past me so that she is behind a sandwich board displaying the various parking fees and rates. Once there, Mackenzie yanks up the hem of her business skirt so that it is around her waist.

“I can’t wait any longer!” Mackenzie blurts out. “I need to go pee right now.”

I immediately find it impossible to keep concentrated on the ticketing machine and my eyes can do nothing other than stare at my bursting coworker. Beneath the skirt, Mackenzie is wearing a pair of thong panties made from a delicate celadon-coloured lace. The thong barely does anything to cover Mackenzie’s sizeable rear and I find myself focused the overstretched fragment of lace Mackenzie has wedged up between her ass cheeks. Mackenzie notices me looking and responds only by blushing.

Obviously unable to wait another a moment, Mackenzie goes on to peel her thong down to her knees and spreads her legs apart. Mackenzie faces directly towards me and offers me a perfect view of her twenty-six-year-old cunt. At this point, I give up any pretence of still attempting to use the ticket machine. Mackenzie is entirely shaved except for a little square of dark brown pubic hair and her cunt appears tight and slightly flushed. It’s an irresistible display.

Mackenzie doesn’t even manage to entirely get down into a low squat before her cunt opens up and a gush of urine explodes out from between her labia. Piss floods across the parking garage’s concrete surfacing and splatters against the sandwich board that Mackenzie is using for cover. Mackenzie hardly seems concerned by the mess.

“Oh - I needed that so badly,” Mackenzie gasps. “I haven’t gone for hours.” Her voice is all but drowned out by the sounds of her piss splattering against the ground.

Mackenzie goes on pissing and pissing and pissing. On several occasions, the conflict resolution expert stops urinating for a few moments, reestablishes her footing, and returns to a low squat to release more piss. Mackenzie’s labia open farther and farther apart as the she continues relieving herself and her piss stream gets messier and messier. After half a minute, Mackenzie’s cunt is gaping open and her piss is coming out in an entirely uncontrolled spray.

Eventually Mackenzie’s piss stream does begin to wane away. Mackenzie continues to squat and let it dribble out from her cunt for a few seconds before releasing two final squirts of piss. She then retrieves a tissue out from her purse and uses it to quickly wipe her cunt.

Mackenzie directs an embarrassed smile towards me as she pulls up her thong and straightens out her skirt. “You have no idea how badly I had to go,” she explains. “It could have been a disaster if I’d waited any longer.”

I respond with an unbothered shrug and finish the process of paying for the parking permit. It occurs to me that I am definitely going to ask Mackenzie out on that date.

***

You can find all my other stories on my profile page here.

I originally posted this in Brutus's Fictional Experiences thread as for some reason I thought he was looking for people to add on to that thread (he may still be - I'm not sure). I kinda realized this should actually be posted as its own thread instead - it's definitely long enough.

Contains female outdoor peeing, as is pretty much always the case with my stories.

***

Several years ago, when I was still in high school, I went on a field trip to the see the old growth forest around Cypress Bowl at the base of the North Shore Mountains beyond Vancouver. My science class was doing a unit on forestry management and had used the opportunity to get out of the classroom for a bit and enjoy the warm late spring weather.

I didn’t mind the forestry unit and certainly had nothing against being outdoors, but the Cypress Bowl tour guide whom we were all supposed to follow around along a trail running through the forest was both excruciatingly dry and spoke with an utterly impenetrable Eastern European accent. I was immediately bored.

Restless, after about fifteen minutes into the tour, I found an opportunity to slip unnoticed off the trail that we had been following and out of view of my classmates. For a few minutes I wandered aimlessly through the massive evergreen trees surrounding me. Then, finding myself bored again, I opted to rest for a bit on a fallen tree trunk and see if I could find a cell signal. The trail was just twenty or thirty meters behind me and I knew I would have no difficulty catching up with my class.

Anyways, I was sitting on the tree trunk, perhaps concealed a bit by the foliage and my mostly subdued clothing but certainly not intentionally hiding myself, when my class’s teacher, Ms. Bailey, appeared in the forest maybe ten or twenty paces away from me. She was moving quickly and I remember thinking that she was obviously in a hurry to get away from the trail that she and I had both left. For a moment I thought that maybe she had determined that I was absent and gone searching for me, but then she didn’t make any apparent efforts to look around at her surroundings, and she rushed by where I was sitting without making so much as a glance in my direction. I was left momentarily confused by her actions.

Up until that point in my life I had never really bothered to have much of an opinion on Ms. Bailey. She had been at my school for only maybe two years and my limited impressions of her were that she seemed relatively capable and generally fair but that she was otherwise entirely personalityless. She was also young, in her late twenties probably, and obviously very fit, although I was more focused on girls my own age and had not taken any real notice of these attributes. Her first name, as I would later take time to remember, was Lauren.

Anyways, Ms. Bailey stumbled onwards through the forest for a few dozen more paces before she eventually stopped at a gnarled Douglas Fir tree that appeared as if it has been there for at least a thousand years. There, she quickly moved behind the tree so that she was out of view of the tour group still up on the trail. Evidently unbeknownst to her, she was still entirely within my view.

I knew pretty much immediately I shouldn’t be watching whatever was about to happen. Still, I found myself entirely unable to look anywhere other than at Ms. Bailey as she attempted to hide herself behind the Douglas Fir tree. I also didn’t particularly want to be caught after having gone off the trail and so I opted to remain where I was and stay out of Ms. Bailey’s view.

Then, seemingly without bothering to check for potential onlookers, Ms. Bailey proceeded to lower the athletic shorts she was wearing down to her knees. I so clearly remember seeing that, beneath the shorts, Ms. Bailey was wearing an extraordinarily tiny pair of g-string panties. The panties were burgundy red and, except for a flosslike strip of elastic that was wedged about as far up between her ass cheeks as I thought might be possible, left pretty much all of Ms. Bailey’s rear exposed. I think that I was left momentarily stupefied as a result of learning that a teacher might choose to wear something quite so revealing.

Ms. Bailey didn’t wait for me to come to my senses. Instead, she hurriedly tugged her panties down so that they were together with her shorts, braced one hand against the trunk of the Douglas Fir tree for support, and lowered herself into a high squat. Ms. Bailey’s ass remained on full display and I remember admiring its appealing size and firmness as she squatted. Even at a distance, I think I might just have been able to make out the pinkish rings of Ms. Bailey’s asshole, although that may also have been my imagination. I think that I probably did.

Ms. Bailey began pissing pretty much immediately. Her urine came out in a messy stream that splattered either across the mossy forest floor or else all over the trunk of the Douglas Fir that she was balancing herself against. Even at a distance, I could very clearly make out the sounds of Ms. Bailey pissing and I immediately got the impression that she must have been absolutely desperate to go.

Ms. Bailey went on pissing for what I’m sure must have been at least one whole minute. I was utterly transfixed. I do remember that at one point Ms. Bailey stopped pissing for a few seconds, let out a quick fart, and then resumed pissing just as hard as ever. I also remember how on multiple occasions Ms. Bailey would get down into a slightly lower squat and release a particularly violent burst of piss. I found myself wondering about how just long the high school teacher must have been holding back her bladder.

Eventually Ms. Bailey did finish pissing. She let out a final few squirts of piss that ricocheted off the trunk of the Douglas Fir before quickly wiping her cunt with a piece of tissue paper. Ms. Bailey then discarded the tissue onto the forest floor and pulled up her g-string panties. I noted how the schoolteacher then took several seconds to adjust her panties. In particular, I remember how Ms. Bailey stuck her fingers right up into her ass crack and tugged at her g-string’s rear elastic so that it was properly situated between her ass cheeks. It occurred to me that same piece of elastic Ms. Bailey was tugging at had no doubt just spent several hours pressed right up against her asshole. Still, at no point did I notice Ms. Bailey produce any hand sanitizer or cleaning product.

Having fixed her panties, Ms. Bailey went on to pull her shorts back into position and return to the trail. I kept out of sight and Ms. Bailey once again passed by my position without even glancing in my direction. I remember being shocked by both my luck and apparently heretofore undiscovered capacity for stealth.

Once Ms. Bailey had disappeared back to the trail, I found myself unable to contain my curiosity. I shifted out of my position by the fallen tree trunk and carefully made my way over to Ms. Bailey’s Douglas Fir tree. Arriving at the location, I found piss absolutely everywhere. Much of the tree’s base was covered in urine and there was an enormous puddle of foaming piss formed up all around the tree’s roots. A bit off to the side, the visibly piss-soaked tissue that Ms. Bailey had used to wipe herself was laying amid a patch of moss. I remember having a bit of difficulty believing exactly what I was seeing as it seemed entirely impossible to me that just one woman could have made such a mess. Still, I also knew that my eyes weren’t lying to me.

I think I stood there for a minute attempting to come to terms with what exactly I had just observed. Eventually, after doing my best to commit the experience to memory, I returned back to the trail and to the rest of my high school group. It was a genuinely unforgettable moment and that’s why I am still able to recollect it so clearly now. I also have to admit that I was never really able to look at Ms. Bailey quite the same way again.

Wrote this pretty quickly so not my best writing but I guess it's porn not great literature. Contains female peeing outdoors.

***

This story took place at work about a week ago. I’d recently been scheduled out of the evening shifts at the port and had the fortune of being partnered up with Madison for at least a few weeks. Madison is in her late twenties, my age or maybe slightly younger, maybe a bit corporate and definitely a bit of a ladder-climber, although still quite modest and certainly not any kind of ass-kisser. She is also strikingly attractive, with reddish shoulder-length hair, an athletic body, and an utterly spectacular ass. She has worked in the shipping industry for a number of years but only just recently relocated to Newark. More money than Savannah or so she tells me. Now Madison, like me, audits container traffic at the port.

Anyways, it is a beautiful cloudless day right at the time of year when winter begins to give way to spring when Madison and I take one of the port’s big pickup trucks out to one of the container terminals in order to check up on a shipment that had arrived in from Rotterdam overnight. Madison, as seems to always be the case, is just slightly overdressed in a carefully cut business jacket, collared blouse, and designer jeans. The outfit is accompanied by both a huge mug of what Madison enthusiastically tells me is oolong tea and the same hi-vis vest, hard-hat, and work boot combination worn by everyone working at the port.

The Rotterdam job is routine and easy. A quick check-in with the supervising longshoreman and then Madison and I make our way out to some of the offloaded containers in order to verify a few BIC codes and confirm nothing’s been damaged in the debarking process. We are done our work in less than an hour.

I have just gotten back into the driver’s seat of the truck and am about to turn over the ignition when Madison opens up the vehicle’s passenger-side door and stops me from going any further.

“Can you wait a moment?” Madison blushes, placing her coffee mug into one of the vehicle’s console cup holders and crossing her legs together. “I really need to go pee.”

The auditor doesn’t wait for me to respond before she walks over behind one of the enormous stacks of intermodal containers situated not far from where I’m sitting in the truck. She places herself so that she is out of view of the longshore workers continuing to offload the Rotterdam shipment but still pretty much entirely visible to me.

Madison doesn’t even bother to glance around for potential onlookers before she unfastens her belt and tugs her jeans down to her knees. Beneath the jeans, Madison is wearing a pair of thong panties made from a black cotton patterned with little pink polka dots. The thong is hopelessly overmatched by Madison’s enormous ass and is pretty much swallowed whole in between her ass cheeks.

A moment later, Madison tugs the thong down so that it is together with her jeans and assumes a high squat posture with her hands on her knees and her ass pointed directly towards me. I am afforded a perfect view of Madison’s tightened asshole while she squats and am pretty much unable to do anything other than stare.

Madison begins pissing after just a few seconds. Urine escapes her cunt in a messy stream and washes across the concrete at her feet or else begins dripping all down her ass and thighs. With the truck windows rolled down on account of the warmer weather, I can clearly hear the sounds of Madison’s piss splattering against the container terminal’s concrete tarmac. At one point, I also see Madison’s anus twitch open and hear a fart accompany the deluge of piss.

After about thirty seconds of nonstop pissing, Madison finally seems to finish. However, rather than pull up her jeans and underwear, she instead takes a step back, reaches out to brace herself against the intermodal container at her back, and resumes urinating. Somehow it is even messier than before. Instead of pissing onto the concrete at her feet, Madison instead begins inadvertently urinating directly onto the intermodal container. Piss sprays off the container’s corrugated steel exterior and ricochets in all directions. A number of wayward piss droplets splash onto Madison’s lowered jeans and thong but the auditor is looking elsewhere and takes no notice whatsoever of the situation.

Eventually Madison does actually finish. She lets out a few final squirts of piss and then pulls up her thong and jeans without bothering to wipe with anything. She then directs an insouciant little shrug at me before making her way back to the truck.

“Don’t report me for that,” Madison blushes as sits down in the passenger seat beside me. “I really needed to go.”

I can’t help but grin. I wouldn’t dare.

Two very short Christmas stories containing female outdoor urination. 

Story #1 - Santa's Helper Needs To Go

Well over four hours pass before Sophia finally gets a break from her job at the local Christmas market. Dressed in a corny elf costume, she has been busy photographing kids meeting with Santa Claus and selling the pictures to their parents. Having also drank several cups of hot chocolate in a futile attempt to stay warm on the cool winter night, she is also utterly desperate for a piss.

Not willing to wait in the long lines to use the market’s limited number of portable toilets, she instead rushes behind a deserted market stall and out of view of passersby, hikes the skirt of her elf costume up, and yanks the crotch panel of her thong panties over to the side of her fully shaved cunt.

She only barely manages to get her panties out of the way before a huge jet of piss explodes out from her cunt. The sounds of urine spraying out from between her labia and splattering onto the pavement between her feet carry for some distance through the still night air and she is sure that at least a few nearby people must be able to hear her pissing. Still, no one can see anything and she figures she will be done in only a minute.

Sophia is unfortunately still pissing hard when Santa Claus comes to investigate the source of the mysterious sounds.

“Jesus Sophia!” Santa Claus exclaims.

Story #2 - Desperate At The Christmas Tree Lot

“Can we stop for a moment?” Katie asks. “I need to go pee.”

She and her college boyfriend, Matthew, have decided to visit a local Christmas tree lot for a romantic date night. As she and Matthew have wandered through the lot’s many rows of Christmas trees, the apple cider she has been drinking has steadily filled her bladder, and it has reached the point where she is unable to hold it any longer.

“Here?” Matthew responds.

Katie responds with an unconcerned little shrug. “No one’s around,” she says. “And I really need to go.”

Not waiting for any objections, Katie then unfastens her belt and lowers her jeans and g-string panties down to her knees. With Matthew staring at her exposed cunt and little postage stamp of dark brown pubic hair, she then steps behind a nearby Christmas tree and gets into a high squat posture.

Katie starts pissing immediately. Urine exits her cunt in a messy stream and either splashes onto the branches of the Christmas tree she is using for cover or else splatters onto the same tree’s trunk. She’s far too desperate to care much where her piss ends up.

After just over a minute of uninterrupted pissing, Katie’s stream dies away. She lets out a few final squirts of urine and then rather nonchalantly pulls up her panties and jeans. Behind her, the Christmas tree is soaked in excreted apple cider.

“Fuck,” Matthew laughs. “That was actually pretty hot.”

Katie rolls her eyes and then leads her boyfriend off to a different part of the Christmas tree lot.

***

Just over an hour later, impressed by the same tree’s exceptional height and full-grown appearance, the Wilson family makes a purchase.

Not fine literature by any means but I wanted to get a story done and this is what I came up with. Like pretty much all my stories, this one contains female outdoor urination and is told from a man's point of view

***

This story takes place just a couple of months ago. I was working for a large-ish American real estate company and had been sent out to a local townhouse construction project to do some appraisal work. Long story short, the goal was to figure out the approximate value of a partially constructed row of buildings so that my company could reassess insurance costs. Excruciatingly boring work.

Accompanying me on the visit to the construction site was Jordyn, a valuation specialist from our company’s residential real estate department. Jordyn was in her late twenties, younger than me but not by much, well-spoken, and obviously very good at her job. She was also extremely pretty, with shoulder-length brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, nice breasts, and a body that was obviously the product of substantial time spent at a gym.

Anyways, it is an early October morning when I meet Jordyn at the construction site. She is dressed conservatively in a slim navy-blue pantsuit and work boots and has a large mug of coffee in hand. We talk briefly about office politics then together sign in to the site, grab hard hats, and accompany one of the assistant foremen on a guided tour of the partially completed building complex.

Fortunately, the appraisal process ends up being fairly straightforward. According to the foreman, each townhouse unit takes pretty much exactly 26 weeks to build, so it is a fairly straightforward process of determining what the groundbreaking date had been for each unit and then accounting for any special circumstances affecting that timetable. Jordyn asks the foreman the occasional question between sips of coffee and I take notes when I need to and after just a few hours Jordyn and I are basically finished our work.

Anyways, Jordyn and I are just about to leave the construction site and head back to our cars when it becomes obvious Jordyn’s coffee has had an effect on her.

“Can you wait up for a minute?” Jordyn says to me as we walk past a parked excavator and the wooden frames of partially constructed townhouses. “I need to piss.”

My coworker’s slightly uncouth language surprises me. “I think I saw portable toilets back by the site office,” I eventually respond. “You could use those.”

Jordyn scoffs at my suggestion. “I’m not using a porta potty,” she replies. “They’re fucking disgusting.”

Without allowing me to argue, Jordyn then nonchalantly walks behind the nearby parked excavator, places her empty coffee mug on the vehicle’s tracks, and starts unbuttoning her pantsuit trousers. The location offers only a modicum of privacy and I can see absolutely everything from where I am standing.

“Do me a favour,” Jordyn laughs. “And make sure no one else sees me doing this, okay?”

A moment later, Jordyn lowers her trousers down to around her knees. Beneath the trousers, Jordyn is wearing a pair of thong panties made from a delicate black lace. The thong hardly covers anything and its rear panel is wedged so deeply up Jordyn’s ass that it practically disappears.

Obviously unconcerned with what I am able to see, Jordyn then tugs the thong down so that it is together with her pants and spreads her legs apart. She doesn’t even manage to get entirely down into a squat before piss escapes out from her fully shaved cunt and splatters onto the dirt between her feet.

“Oh, I really needed to do that,” Jordyn gasps over the sound of urine spraying out from between her labia. “I haven’t gone for hours.”

Jordyn’s need is immediately apparent. Once she has fully lowered herself into a squat, the real estate specialist goes on to release an absolutely gargantuan jet of urine. Piss splatters all over the steel tracks of the excavator she is using for cover and a few errant droplets also splash onto her work boots. Additionally, a thin string of vaginal fluid leaks out from Jordyn’s cunt while she pisses and the discharge further adds to the mess.

It takes me a while to come to terms with what I am watching. Jordyn is apparently both so conceited that she is unwilling to make use of portable toilets and completely fine with relieving her bladder almost quite literally in the middle of a busy construction site. I find myself both amazed by Jordyn’s audacity and curious as to what the young woman must do when visiting other worksites where regular facilities are not available.

Jordyn pisses for what seems like forever. Thirty seconds pass and urine is still gushing out from her exposed cunt. Then a whole minute elapses and she is still pissing. A further thirty seconds pass by and somehow she is not yet finished. At Jordyn’s feet, an enormous inland sea of piss has formed in the dirt.

Eventually Jordyn does finish emptying her bladder. Visibly relieved, the insurance company employee does a quick shake and then pulls her thong and suitpants back into place. Despite the lack of privacy, Jordyn doesn’t hurry much, and she provides me with me ample time to take in every detail of her gorgeous body while I stand nearby.

“Thanks for keeping watch,” Jordyn says as she straightens out her clothes. “The last time I had to do that I nearly got caught by a security guard.”

I raise an eyebrow. “The last time?” I ask. I am too curious not to ask.

Jordyn flashes me a mischievous smile. “I was at those apartments they’re building by the river,” she explains. “They hadn’t got real toilets set up yet and I didn’t want to hold it.”

I can’t help but grin. I am going to have to work with Jordyn more often.

On 5/3/2023 at 3:06 AM, colette888 said:

A masterpiece! Congrats!

... whether this story is a total fruit of your imagination I doubt, but, anyway, I guess that "fictionally" Rebecca accepted your invitation to dating, it seems to me she really tried hard to lead you into that...

Definitely accepted. She knew what she was doing.

On 5/5/2023 at 4:16 AM, whiskey35 said:

Another excellent story @rochauthrowaway. Have you anymore stories from Rebecca, she sounds like a girl who does this regularly.

Appreciate the positive feedback. No more Rebecca stories for now although I can tell you that she was recently at an outdoor school district track and field event and she definitely wasn't waiting to use the toilets there when she needed to pee.

I've posted quite a few fictional stories here now and I have quite a few thoughts on this topic:

"Realistic" stories don't need to be plausible but they do need to be conceivable. Most of my stories would be pretty unlikely to take place in real life but they definitely could happen.  

I think fictional stories work best when told from the perspective of someone who is sexually interested in what is going on and who acts as a proxy for the reader. I'm a straight male, my stories are written with a straight male audience in mind, and almost all my stories have a straight male protagonist. If you write from the perspective of someone who isn't sexually interested in what's happening, it's going to be really challenging to fit in the sort of sexual details the reader may be interested in into the story in a manner that seems natural. Like "I really needed to pee, so I hiked up my miniskirt, tugged my immodest little thong down, and displayed my gorgeous twenty-year-old pussy and carefully trimmed pubic hair" doesn't really work imo because people in real life wouldn't talk about themselves using that sort of sexual language.

You need details. Not crazy details, but you shouldn't be writing a several thousand word story where the entire payoff is "finally, she dashed behind the bushes and peed". Like, c'mon. What panties is she wearing? How does she squat? Does her piss come out in squirts or in a stream or what? Is she embarrassed, relieved, or nonchalant? Is she shaved or does she have pubic hair? etc., etc., etc.

I've gone down the rabbit hole of writing narrative setups that are way too complicated in the past and they don't work well at all. Simple setups function so much better and I think are truer to real life. For example, "character wants to pee, there isn't a toilet immediately available, they don't feel like holding it" is all the setup you need to explain why someone decides to pee outside. You really don't need anything more than that.

I think there has to be a bit of a naughty element or element of social unacceptability to a really good pee story. Like, a female wildland firefighter pissing outside while fighting a brushfire isn't particularly interesting to me because given the circumstances it would be a completely acceptable and normal thing to do and consequently wouldn't really seem worth reporting on.

Characters should generally act like normal people and not like crazed nymphomaniacs. I would fault OP's example story for this.

More of a preference than anything else, but I really don't like malicious property damage, outright misogyny (and misandry I suppose), and anything more than really mild humiliation. I think stories should seek to have you empathize with the characters.  

Anyways, I am sure I have some other points but that's what comes to mind right now.

After months of writer's block, half finished stories, and general frustration, I've finally got a new short story to share. It's pretty similar to stuff I've already posted here but I hope you enjoy regardless.

This story contains female outdoor urination and is told from a man's point of view.

...

This story takes place at the beginning of January this past year when I was teaching senior year math at a Seattle high school. After a long period of characteristically rainy and mild Pacific Northwest winter weather, King County had finally been hit by substantial snowfall and the city’s roads had been turned to an ugly mix of snow and ice and road salt.

Despite the miserable weather, my mood wasn’t terrible. Rebecca, the high school’s new English teacher, had given up trying to bike in the snow and instead asked to carpool with me for a bit until the weather improved. I was more than happy to help her out; while I still wouldn’t go as far as to describe Rebecca and me as anything more than friends, she and I sometimes talked to each other at lunch or exchanged late night texts in a way that I knew was pushing the boundaries of our relationship. So far everything between the two of us had remained professional but I knew I was becoming more and more attracted to her; she was twenty-seven and just a couple of years younger than me, athletic, and a head-turning kind of pretty.

Anyways, it’s the evening of one of those dismal winter days and Rebecca and I are sitting in our school’s teachers’ lounge trying to finish marking the last of the winter semester’s final exams. Most of the school’s lights have been turned off and I’m sure that she and I have been the only people occupying the building for some time.

Eventually Rebecca puts down her red marking pen and looks over my way. “It’s nearly nine,” she says. “Maybe we should call it there?”

I remove my headphones, check the time on my phone, and nod in agreement; I hadn’t really realized just how late it had become.

Together, Rebecca and I file away the exams, pack up our stuff, and arm the high school’s alarm system. As we prepare to leave the school, I can’t help but take a moment to privately admire the prepossessing brunette; even the rather demure winter cardigan and work pants she's wearing can’t quite hide the generous contours of her breasts and ass.

Outside the high school, it's snowing heavily and the staff parking lot has been turned into a desolate white ocean. My Corolla is the only vehicle in sight anywhere and Rebecca and I need to trudge some distance out through the accumulated snow just to reach it.

When we arrive at the snow-covered Corolla, I figure Rebecca is just going to sit in the vehicle’s passenger seat while I clear off its windshields, so I’m a bit surprised when she instead rushes off the back of the parking stall.

When I ask about what she’s up to, Rebecca blushes and offers me an embarrassed smile. “Sorry,” she responds. “I really should have taken a piss before we left.”

Not affording me the opportunity to object or even just look away, Rebecca proceeds to unbutton her work pants and then lower them so that they are down around her knees. Beneath the work pants, the high school teacher is wearing a pair of g-string panties made from a near-sheer black fabric. The g-string doesn’t cover much at all; the panties give Rebecca obvious cameltoe and the thin strip of elastic stretched between the twenty-seven-year old’s ass cheeks only barely manages to cover her anus. My mouth immediately turns dry at the sight of Rebecca’s tantalizingly immodest choice of underwear.

“So I’m not going to be mad if you see me doing this,” Rebecca comments as she hooks her fingers around the waistband of her g-string. “But maybe turn the car heater on first?”

Struggling to find words, I nod, unlock the vehicle, and start the engine to get the defroster running. Just a few feet away from me, Rebecca slides her panties down so that they are together with her pants, spreads her legs, and positions herself into a high squat. I barely need to move my head to get a perfect view of Rebecca’s exposed cunt while she squats. She is completely shaven except for a carefully trimmed landing strip of dark brown pubic hair and her labia are flushed and just slightly opened.

After doing my very best to burn the sight of Rebecca’s gorgeous cunt into my permanent memory, I grab the Corolla’s snow brush from under the driver’s seat so that I can start getting the snow off the vehicle’s front and rear windshields.

Rebecca begins to piss at the exact moment I exit the vehicle. Urine rushes out from her cunt in a messy stream and the otherwise quiet winter night is suddenly filled with the indelicate sounds of the high school teacher’s piss spraying past her labia and splattering down into the snow between her feet. It is immediately obvious to me that Rebecca must have really needed to go.

With Rebecca squatting and pissing just a few feet away, I start to work on brushing the snow off the Corolla’s front windshield. As I work, I watch Rebecca steadily transform a sizeable patch of snow into a steaming lake of urine-soaked slush.

I get the snow brushed off the Corolla’s front windshield in little time and move on to the back of the vehicle to work on its rear windshield. Rebecca is still pissing there when I arrive and my new location and her high squat posture cooperate to offer me an enviable view of her rear end. Rebecca quite literally has her ass hovering just inches away from my face and I get to take in every detail of her ass cheeks, pink balloon-knot anus, and piss stream as I brush snow off the rear windshield. Rebecca even lets out a small fart just while I’m standing there.

Eventually I finish clearing the snow off the Corolla and Rebecca finishes emptying her bladder. I toss the snow brush back into vehicle and Rebecca lets out a relieved little sigh and tugs her g-string panties and work pants back up her legs.

“I hope you’re okay with me doing that,” Rebecca intimates. “I really don’t like having to hold it.”

I laugh; I’ve finally found the words I’ve been looking for for quite some time. “Rebecca,” I say. “Do you want to go on a date?”

I generally haven't been big into writing multi-part stories but I intend to write at least one follow-up to this one. This story features female urination.

***

This story takes place a few years back when I was working as a camp leader at a small summer camp located on one of the San Juan islands in Puget Sound. I had picked up the job after coming across an employment ad posted onto a bulletin board in my university’s student union and figuring that I could handle managing some twelve-to-fourteen-year-olds for a couple of months. Being a camp leader didn’t pay a whole lot of money but it meant a place to stay and food to eat while I was between semesters and that sounded okay to me. Mom had died the previous spring and the douchebag she had met online had sold the family house and made off with pretty much all the money so I didn’t exactly have a whole lot of better options. Besides, I liked the outdoors and a couple of the female camp leaders the Photoshop guy had put on the poster to suck in people like me looked kinda hot. I guess I figured that it couldn’t be a terrible time.

Anyways, I finish my last few exams for the semester and a couple of days later find myself watching the cool waters of Puget Sound rush by as the camp’s small ferry boat shuttles me from Anacortes over to the island summer camp. The ferry boat is filled with teenaged campers and their accompanying baggage. Excluding myself, the only adults on the boat are its pilot and Katherine, one of the other camp leaders. Katherine and I get along pretty much immediately and we spend the forty-odd minute boat ride chatting and doing our best to keep the boat’s passengers from fighting or accidentally throwing themselves overboard. Between sips from a large Starbucks drink that she tells me is passionfruit lemonade, Katherine explains that she is twenty, just finished her second year studying philosophy at Western, and wanted to give being a camp leader a shot before hopefully going on to teach high school. 

Katherine is absolutely gorgeous and would more than fit in on the employment ad I had seen. She has curly black hair that extends just past her shoulders and a warm olive skin tone that makes me think that she maybe has some Balkan or Levantine heritage. She is dressed in a faded t-shirt advertising an decades-old Tom Petty tour, khaki short-shorts that show off her slender legs, and some beaten up hiking boots. A pair of knock-off Wayfarer sunglasses and a large backpack complete her look. 

Anyways, about twenty minutes into the ferry boat ride, I notice that Katherine appears to be in some degree of discomfort. She becomes distractible and fidgety and starts biting her lower lip. Not long after, she acknowledges that she needs to relieve herself. “I gotta go pee,” she admits to me. “Like, I really gotta go pee.”

I am not exactly sure how to respond. Katherine and I had told all the campers that there would be no facilities available on the ferry boat and that they should take care to use a washroom prior to departure; I suppose that Katherine had neglected to heed her own advice. I decide not to point this out and instead reply that I’m sure that she’ll be able to get off the boat and use one of the camp’s washrooms shortly.

Katherine looks nervous. “I don’t know if I can hold it,” she groans. “I drank a lot of coffee.”

Katherine spends the remainder of the boat journey in apparent agony. She starts crossing her legs tightly and then begins hopping from one foot to the other. It’s obvious that the efforts aren’t helping much. I don’t say anything but I’m a bit turned on knowing that Katherine desperately needs to piss.

After another twenty or so minutes pass, the camp’s small dock comes into view. The camp shares the dock with a handful of people, mostly wealthy retirees, who have properties on the island and there are a variety of expensive looking motorboats moored to the dock. The ferry’s pilot takes his boat in at a torturously slow speed to avoid damaging anything and the process almost seems as if it is deliberately intended to taunt Katherine. Katherine does her best to maintain her composure but it’s clearly a major struggle.

Once the ferry boat does finally dock, Katherine and I are still responsible for ensuring the various campers disembark safely from the boat with their baggage. We do this as quickly as possible but it still seems to take an inordinate amount of time. Katherine starts to get a bit irritable with some of the more lethargic campers and ends up apologizing a couple of times for her seemingly unwarranted rudeness. 

Eventually Katherine and I manage to get everyone off the ferry boat. A pair of camp leaders whom I am not yet familiar with appear at the end of the dock and take custody of the newly landed campers and the ferry peels off away from the dock and begins its return journey to the mainland. 

Katherine and I  are still standing at the end of the dock when Katherine makes it clear to me that she isn’t able to wait even a moment longer. “James,” she gasps, jamming a hand between her crossed legs. “I gotta go pee right now. Like, I gotta go pee right fucking now.”

Before I even get a chance to respond, Katherine runs behind a derelict fuel pump built into the middle of the dock. The fuel pump offers the only obvious vestige of privacy anywhere nearby and Katherine begins unfastening her belt and unbuttoning her shorts behind what little cover it provides to her. She moves frantically and has obviously reached her bladder’s absolute limit. I’m blown away realizing that Katherine is about to urinate right off the camp’s dock.

Despite really wanting to see Katherine piss, I decide to be polite and give her some space and I start walking down the dock; however, Katherine intervenes before I move far. “Please don’t go,” she implores. “I need you to make sure nobody sees me doing this.” 

Glancing around, the dock appears deserted and the prospect of anyone observing Katherine relieving herself seems remote, but I hardly want to argue. Instead, I stand just a few feet away as Katherine yanks her short-shorts down to her knees. Beneath the shorts, Katherine is wearing a revealing pair of thong panties made from burgundy-coloured cotton. There’s a small wet spot on the thong’s gusset right where Katherine’s cunt is pressed into the fabric and it's obvious that she’s leaked a bit. 

Displaying no hesitation whatsoever, Katherine proceeds to tug the thong down so that it is together with her shorts. She then hurriedly drops down into a low squat, spreads her legs, and provides me with a completely unobstructed view of her cunt. She has shaved away every last inch of pubic hair and her cunt appears flushed and tight. Katherine appears entirely unconcerned with what I can see and makes no attempts whatsoever to hide any part of her anatomy from me.

A moment later, Katherine begins urinating. Piss explodes out from her cunt in a series of heavy squirts and sprays across the dock or else drips through the gaps in the wooden boards at her feet and into the pristine ocean water below. Each squirt of piss causes Katherine’s shaved labia to spread apart just slightly and after just a few squirts her cunt is fully agape.

As she continues to urinate, Katherine’s face turns a bright shade of scarlet. “I’m so sorry,” she apologizes. “I really couldn’t have waited another moment.”

Katherine punctuates the apology by letting out a particularly strong squirt of urine. Suddenly, she is pissing so hard that she’s overshooting the dock entirely and instead sending urine splattering all over a vintage runabout boat moored just a few feet from where she is squatting. Piss impacts against the boat's mahogany hull with a loud splattering sound and runs down its freeboard and into the water. Katherine is fully occupied trying to keep her balance and takes no notice of where she is pissing. She sprays more urine onto the watercraft’s mahogany exterior just moments later.

After urinating for something like thirty seconds, Katherine’s piss squirts come out less and less frequently and then stop coming entirely. I figure that Katherine must surely be finished emptying her bladder, but she just lets out a relieved little sigh and adjusts her posture so that she’s in a slightly lower squat. Her cunt opens and closes a few times and a thin string of vaginal fluid seeps out from between her labia and pools up on the urine-soaked wooden boards at her feet.

A moment later, Katherine resumes urinating. She pisses even harder than before and manages to spray urine not just onto the motorboat’s exterior but also into the boat's cockpit seating area. Piss splatters onto the watercraft's controls and pools up on its vinyl upholstery. A bit even gets onto the boat’s glass windscreen. Katherine’s attention remains directed elsewhere and she obviously has no idea that she is making a huge mess.

Eventually, with both the motorboat and a large swath of the dock covered in excreted passionfruit lemonade, urine starts to exit Katherine’s cunt only in a slight dribble. “Okay,” Katherine comments. “I’m all done.” Then, with piss still dribbling out from her cunt, she pulls her thong back up her legs. She releases a thimbleful of urine just as she gets the thong back into place and the piss adds to the wet spot that is already formed on the gusset of her panties. Katherine either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. 

“Sorry to put you through that,” Katherine comments as she tugs the back panel of her panties up between her buttocks. “I can’t tell you how embarrassed I am.”

I shrug and tell Katherine she doesn’t need to feel embarrassed. I’m not entirely sure if that’s true but it seems like the right thing to say and I go with it. I decide not to say anything about the piss-soaked motorboat.

Katherine gives me a small smile. Together, we walk down the dock to rejoin the campers.