Adyguy6970

Agreed. To the point I think if you played a recording of a woman noisily peeing into a toilet to a room full of teenage boys, 100 percent of them would get raging erections.

I once heard a story about a performance involving short skirted ballet dancers. Apparently the queue for the gents toilets at the interval was massive - practically every man in the place was in need of relief.

I think it's fairly commonplace for people to feel aroused when they need to go to the toilet. Put it this way, I know I do. It's largely to do with the muscles and nerve endings which control the excretory bits being close to - and in some cases the same ones - as those used for sexual function.

I sometimes stand in the shower and pee whilst wearing a pair of pants - or rather briefs/panties for our American readers.

Hi and welcome, drinkmein!

Hi and welcome. I hope you have a good time here.

Hi and welcome. I hope you have a great time here.

(I have posted this little story elsewhere before but if you haven't come across it I hope you'll like it - especially if you're a fan of naughty peeing.)

Anne Glenson drained her coffee mug. It was the fourth she'd had that morning. It was Monday, officially Archie's day off – correction their day off – as the nature of his work meant that they never had a proper weekend to themselves. Today, however, he'd had to go to a meeting which was expected to last all morning and she didn't anticipate seeing him before lunchtime if not later.

His absence did, however, furnish her with an opportunity for a little self indulgence. For as long as she cared to remember Anne had enjoyed holding it until she was absolutely bursting and couldn't wait any longer. Few things felt better than a long holding session culminating in the sheer joy of a delightful warm wetness as she soaked herself like the naughtiest of naughty housewives. She just loved being bursting for the loo and, even better, flooding her pants. Although it was something she'd always done, whenever she'd been able to get away with it, at 37 Anne was well old enough to know better and that fact turned her on too. Archie knew about her tendency but he didn't approve – or at least had her believe that he didn't approve. He was sweet, kind and tolerant but she didn't think it was fair to rub his nose in it. Consequently opportunities to indulge herself had to be taken as and when he wasn't about for the most part.

It was quite true that the wetting she'd had at the village fete was a genuine accident but, unfortunately, her secret was out of the bag and it didn't sit well with some of the women in that small rural community. She'd already outraged their sense of decency by wearing not just jeans but tight jeans too – ones which showed of her legs and bottom to their shapeliest and best advantage. So far as they were concerned though, it just wasn't done – and certainly not by the rector's wife! Earlier that morning she'd nipped down to the village in her tight blue jeans in order to pick up some stamps and the Daily Telegraph. As she left the shop her sharp ears had picked up a whispered conversation between Major Hancock's wife and the postmistress.

"You know she does it in her pants, don't you? I think it's quite disgusting."

"Yes, so I've heard. Quite dreadful. Someone in her position should know better – I mean the rector's wife of all people! If it was that slut from the Fox & Eagle I could understand..."

That had been two hours ago and, although Anne had been unable to resist crossing and uncrossing her legs for effect whilst in the Post Office, she'd not been desperate then, just quite capable of peeing if she'd wanted to. Now safely back in the warmth of the rectory she'd topped up her coffee intake and completed the Telegraph crossword whilst she was about it. As she debated over whether to pour herself a glass of water or make a fifth coffee she could feel her pleasant sensation of discomfort turn to one of desperation. Her bladder was swollen but less so than it could get or she'd like. To speed things up a little she poured herself a large glass of water and drank it quickly.

Returning to her easy chair, Anne decided to make herself as comfortable as possible. She'd prepared it well using two large plastic sheets and spreading three old towels on top of them. By now she really needed to go to the loo but there was no way that she was going – oh no. She intended to enjoy herself and prolong the agreeable sensation of needing to go for as long as possible. Picking up a magazine she flicked through it but found herself unable to concentrate and had to put it down. Anne stroked her crotch as she felt the pressure building whilst her desperation increased. She'd been checking out some of her favourite desperation sites earlier and that had really put her in the mood.

Now she was really desperate and as the clock struck twelve she decided it was time to release all that pent up pee. Unwilling to hold it in for any longer, Anne began peeing and started to release little spurts which soon turned into a cascade. She sighed with pleasure as the warm wetness completely soaked her knickers and stonewash blue jeans. It wasn't long before the towels beneath her were sodden too. The sheer relief and naughtiness of it just felt amazing. Eventually she stopped peeing but as she did so another urge took over and she unzipped her jeans. Sliding a hand inside her sodden knickers Anne began pleasuring herself, consumed with the enjoyment of what she was doing. In fact she was enjoying herself so much that she didn't hear Archie's car in the drive or his key in the door. Only when she was about to climax did she look up, just as Archie entered the room. Caught at it, she blushed but decided to act as normally as possible.

"Archie, I wasn't expecting you back just yet."

There was an unmistakable bulge in Archie's pants but he had at least to pretend to disapprove.

"Clearly not by the look of it."

Anne moved her hand from her crotch.

"How did the meeting go? Did you have a good time?"

Archie frowned.

"Clearly not as good a time as you appear to be having! I think you should have a shower and get changed. Meanwhile, I'll see if I can find anything in the fridge for that spot of lunch I hoped you might have got ready for me. Oh, and whilst you're showering make sure that bladder's properly emptied."

Anne gave her husband a guilty look.

"Archie, you're cross, aren't you?"

Archie reached out and took Anne in his arms. As he did so, her sodden jeans fell to the floor.

"No darling, of course I'm not cross. I'm not surprised either though. If the bookie in Stowchester had offered me decent odds on this happening I'd be a rich man now!"

The End

(This is a story which I have posted elsewhere. If you've not come across it I hope you'll enjoy it. Please be aware that it features both #1 and #2.)

It was twenty past eleven on a Sunday morning. Anne closed the churchyard gate behind her, content that whatever people thought of her, she’d at least done her duty. Being the rector’s wife wasn’t easy, particularly when people didn’t take to her and were quick to judge, something she’d found out on arriving in Browndale. Her cheery if optimistic “See you later” to the Major’s wife as they’d left church had met with the muttered rejoinder “Not if I can help it!”

Still she’d borne people’s unfriendliness with a good grace and at least shown willing by serving for Archie at the Sung Eucharist. As she filled the cruets in the vestry before the service tied the girdle to her alb, Archie had come over and whispered:

“Anne, you haven’t been, have you?”

Whatever answer she gave he knew her well enough to know that she’d not ‘been’ – in fact she hadn’t ‘been’ since Thursday. Earlier that morning as they lay in the stillness of their rectory bedroom she’d cut one of those silent but ever so deadly ‘egg sandwich’ farts which had sent Archie dashing to frantically open the window and get dressed. He’d had to take the eight ‘o clock at Willingham Parva and needed to get a move on but Anne’s 6.53am SBD hadn’t exactly been the alarm call he’d wished for. Radio 4 news when the wireless was programmed to come on at seven would have done just fine, thank you. He’d not said a word of reproach but the expression on his face left her in little doubt that he didn’t approve. At least his nose told him from experience that nothing worse than foul air lurked beneath the duvet.

Four and a half hours had passed since then. At least she’d managed to not fart in church, but Anne sensed an increasing fullness in her back passage and knew the “turtle’s head” wasn’t far from emerging. She needed to pee too, having not emptied her bladder for thirteen hours. That wasn’t a personal record by any means and she was used to long holds but there were limits. Doubtful whether she’d make it back to the rectory, Anne headed to some woods just outside the village which were owned by Major and Mrs Hancock. For once she’d have a “country ‘un” – a pleasure she’d rarely been able indulge since her youth, so happily spent in the Norfolk countryside.

Deftly negotiating a stile, Anne made her way into the woods and, twigs crackling beneath her feet, quickly found a clearing. She was ‘touching cloth’ by now and realised that if she didn’t deal with matters quickly she’d shit herself. Needing to poo that bad was the greatest feeling in the world and she longed to savour it but could tell from the sensations ‘down below’ that time wasn’t on her side. Her distended bladder ached too and there was little doubt that it had almost reached its limit.

Having successfully unbuttoned her jeans, Anne discovered that the zip was causing her some trouble, and she knew it served her right for buying cheap jeans. As she struggled with the zip, Anne felt a large spurt of pee escape from her pussy, splashing into her panties. Quickly she stemmed the flow, clamping her well trained sphincter muscles. If she could avoid complete disaster so much the better. Eventually freeing her zip, Anne froze as she felt a turd easing its way out of her bottom into the seat of her panties. Dropping her jeans and easing her panties down, Anne squatted and just gave way to the inevitable. Pee cascaded out of her pussy landing on the woodland floor and splashing her shoes in the process. After a minute of joyous, full throttle peeing, her stream subsided to a trickle before eventually stopping. Now for the serious business. Cutting one of those wonderful eggy farts (she’d not been nicknamed ‘eggy’ in a previous life for nothing) Anne head a familiar crackling noise as a large turd snaked its way out of her bottom and landed on the woodland floor. Another one followed – and another. A couple more farts then followed and finally, two more large turds dropped out. It felt absolutely amazing. Some things were well worth waiting for and this certainly was.

Extracting some tissue paper from her jeans pocket – she always carried some – Anne wiped her pussy and then her bottom. Not very successfully but at least it was an attempt! Surveying the damage to her panties she decided that they were beyond saving and gingerly removed them. If Major Hancock’s wife decided to walk through the woods she’d find a souvenir. At least her jeans would live to see another day if nothing else. So absorbed was she in sorting herself out, that Anne didn’t hear footsteps and was startled when a voice rang out which she knew well but hadn’t heard for many years.

“Well if it isn’t …what a blast from the past!”

Anne looked up and smiling down at her was Sarah Worthington, an old friend from her nursing days on the Urology unit in Newcastle. It took her a few seconds to get over the shock and regain her composure.

“Sarah. Well I never. This is a surprise. Fancy seeing you here. Look, I’m terribly sorry. I was just...”

“Having a shit?”

“Sarah, I can’t apologise enough. Anyhow, what brings you here?”

“Well I’ve just moved into the village as it happens. I’m in Washtub Cottage on Honeysuckle Lane. Still living out of packing cases a bit but I’m gradually getting there. Anyway, what brings you here, Anne?”

“I’m the rector’s wife.”

“You mean you married Archie? I knew you were dating him when he was curate at St Wilfrid’s but I never really thought…”

“I’d marry him? Yes and we’re pretty happy as happy goes. People in this village really don’t like me and Sundays can be rather lonely as he’s out all day either taking services or hospital visiting.”

Sarah pulled a face.

“Doesn’t sound like much cop to me. Look, why don’t you pop home, have a shower, pop some clean clothes on and come over to Washtub Cottage for lunch? One o’clock okay?”

“Sarah, that’s very kind. Are you sure you don’t mind?”

Sarah laughed.

“Mind! Why should I mind? I’m just over the moon to have found a friend in this place. It’s a pretty enough village but the people are as cold as charity. It must be twenty years since Newcastle at least if not more.”

“It must be, Sarah. I know old Major was still in Downing Street at the time. Can’t remember whether it was before or after Edwina though.”

“You mean the curried eggs episode?”

“I don’t know about curried eggs. I cut Archie an egg sandwich under the duvet this morning and you should have seen him sprint out of bed, eyes watering and gasping for air.”

Sarah roared with laughter, losing the battle to control her mirth.

“Anne you don’t change do you? Oops I think I’ve wet my panties a little. I am a naughty girl aren’t I? Anyhow, I’ll see you at one o’clock sharp. Don’t be late!”

Later on.

“Well this is a pleasure! Do come in.”

Sarah beamed brightly as she embraced her old friend – now showered, changed and smelling of roses.

“Anne, I’m afraid it’s nothing special – only a beef casserole, some vegetables and bottle of merlot that needs using up. If you’re still hungry afterwards there’s some cheese in the fridge. Take a seat. I’m afraid the house isn’t very elegant just now but I’ll get straight eventually.”

Anne smiled broadly.

“It sounds like a feast fit for a king and knowing you I’m sure you’ll have made enough to feed an army.”

Much as Anne had suspected Sarah had produced one of her legendary meals dispelling any fear that she had the remotest chance of going away hungry.

She could spot a second bottle of merlot too – and a third. This was going to be a serious session.

Sarah loaded Anne’s plate high with casserole and filled her glass.

“Tell me, apart from being the rector’s wife do you do anything here?”

“Well apart from doing a little part time art teaching at the local FE college, not much. That’s only two days a week – Wednesday and Thursday. Archie and I always try to take Monday as our ‘day off’ as he’s so busy on Sundays. Anyway, more to the point, what are you doing these days, Sarah? Surely you’re not retired yet – are you?”

“Not yet. I quit working for the NHS a long time ago because I didn’t like the way things were going and I was sick of working all the hours God sent for what seemed like next to nothing. Nowadays I do a bit of bank nursing in the private sector and it suits me well as the money’s good and I can pick my hours. No antisocial shifts if I don’t want them. I have a little project in mind though which might interest you and with which I could certainly use your help. A little while ago I came into money and bought the old secondary modern school at Drydale Magna off County Hall for a song. I’ve refurbished it and started running residential fitness courses there for adults. Some of the courses are about general fitness and healthy living. Others, however, are geared to helping adults improve their bladder holding abilities.”

Anne’s ears pricked up and, eager not to miss anything, put her fork down.

“Tell me more. This sounds interesting.”

Sarah smiled broadly.

“I thought you’d be interested. Well, I’ve had a couple of small groups in before but I really can’t cope on my own and I desperately need a hand. Ideally I could do with a fitness instructor and I know you’d be perfect for that but I need a good all rounder too. You’d also help with meals, discipline, pastoral care and general good order. Also I’d need you to drive the mini bus occasionally.”

“Discipline? I thought you said the courses were for adults only.”

“They are. The trouble is most of the students are likely to be challenging on account of their lifestyles and backgrounds. I’ve already got bookings from celebrities, politicians, aristocrats and porn stars. All people with big egos who need keeping in their place and I know I can depend on you to be firm but kind and fair too. Depending on who they are and what we're doing with them we’ll be charging between two and three thousand pounds each per course. Even at that price some of the will think it’s just jolly japes but I need someone to reinforce the idea that it’s not a jolly.”

“Well this sounds like a dream come true. I’ve always loved holding and the thought of training other people to become proud holders excites me.”

Sarah beamed broadly.

“You’ve just solved a big problem. I’ve been wondering what to call our holding courses – Proud Holders – that will do fine. I’m not running any courses there for a few weeks and I want to get the place properly sorted. If you’re free on Tuesday, pop round about nine and I’ll run you over there. We’re going to have such fun.”

Anne smiled at her friend.

“You’re on. I’m looking forward to it.”

THE END

Hi and welcome, Anita. I hope you have a good time here.

I wouldn't pee over someone else's personal items in a shower. Peeing in someone else's shower though shouldn't be a problem so long as the water's running well before you start and you're soaping down thoroughly.

I quite like Literotica, which has plenty of pee stories, and contribute sometimes. Here's a link to my page:

https://www.literotica.com/stories/memberpage.php?uid=929237&page=submissions

Adrian

Hi and welcome. I hope you have a great time here.

Hi and welcome. We've all been newbies and felt nervous before. Don't worry though because we're a very friendly bunch here. I look forward to seeing you around.

Hi and welcome.

I feel that a first meeting should necessarily be a social one. If people decide to do something more adventurous on a subsequent occasion they can then do so having previously met the other person and got to know a little about them.

(I am indebted to the kindness of a good friend - AB - for help with writing this and am most grateful for his assistance. It is entirely a work of fiction and resemblance to real persons, living or otherwise, is totally coincidental. I have posted this elsewhere so apologies if you met with it before. However I hope you enjoy it.)

"BUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUURRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRPPPPPPPP!"

The director yells “cut” yet again. Jonah apologises sheepishly. What should have been a simple shoot for this advert is now in danger of running into a fourth hour. Something just keeps preventing Jonah from getting through the whole 30-second bit in one take.

And now he has swigged so much of this new energy drink - Black Mamba - that he is beginning to fear what it might be doing to his insides. His belly bubbles furiously with gas and at the back end of his lengthy urethra, his bladder is feeling close to full.

The shoot has to be in the can in another half-hour. The director, a slim, pretty woman from Manhattan in her early 30s grows impatient as Jonah requests a 'lunch' break. His plea,

“Can we take a break now?”

Falls on deaf ears and she orders him to carry on with the shoot.

He grits his teeth. Not what he wanted to hear. What a bitch! He eyes what will be his sixth can of Black Mamba with trepidation. A few swigs from this will push the morning's fluid intake well over the over the 2 litre mark if the Evain he sipped on the Metro is taken into account. That, of course, is without even considering that rather large mug of breakfast coffee.

Everyone takes their places. Jonah's role entails him walking from one side of the set - a replica of a two-bedroom apartment - to the other. This will no longer be easy for several very good reasons, something makes the director cry “cut” yet again immediately as he walks into shot.

Clearly he's having some difficulty walking. His mammoth penis is now prominently engorged inside his pants and it's distracting her as it has done all morning.

The director lady comes over. She is as visibly flustered as he is. Not only is she facing a failed shoot but she is being confronted by the trouser peg of all trouser pegs. It bounces and strains against the fabric of his leather jeans. Two thoughts occur to her. Firstly she can't help wondering what it must be like to have a penis that size inside her and tries to put the thought out of her mind. Secondly it occurs to her that he's been downing cans of that energy drink all morning without taking any comfort breaks. There is another bulge above his waistline which, if not completely absent, was nowhere near as prominent when they began filming over three hours earlier. She demands an explanation. Jonah apologises as profusely as he sweats, telling her that the burgeoning flood inside his bladder can only be contained now with a little self-stimulation between takes. She agrees, noting that his urine-filled bladder must also be rubbing against his prostate. Realising what Jonah's earlier request for a lunch break was really about, she allows him five minutes to find and use a bathroom.

His relief is palpable. He remembers with fondness the enormous, amazingly relieving wee which took whilst showering at 7.00am, releasing eleven hours' worth of glorious, golden pent up pee. They'd started filming at ten and, despite the passage of some three hours enjoying taking that glorious early morning relief, he'd felt fine at the time. Fine, that is in the sense of having no real need to use the bathroom although he could effortlessly have obliged if, as happened in some studios, he'd been asked to supply a water sample ahead of filming.

Three hours on and it's one o'clock – the hour at which most civilised people break for lunch – and he's feeling rather differently. At eleven he'd begun to sense a noticeable need to pee, albeit one he could ignore, but by noon with a couple more cans inside him he was growing desperate and now he was getting frantic.

Grateful for being excused, he is thus allowed five minutes to find and use a bathroom. Trouble is, he has no idea where one is. He exits the studio. No-one's around. He feels free to grab his crotch with both hands, squeezing his lengthy urethra shut through his tight leather trousers. He runs in an extremely fidgety manner down the corridor, past other studios, but not a men's room in sight. He belches obscenely a couple of times, the gas in his belly still not settled. He's used up one minute already getting to the end of the corridor and panics somewhat. There is a men's room somewhere, possibly, on the next corridor. Hopefully it's not too far. He doesn't like to be that close to pissing himself without knowing precisely where a facility is to be found.

Jonah turns right. Unfortunately for him, the gents were to the left.

As he runs along in a curious half-crouch, bent double, already halfway through undoing his flies and feels his urethral opening spasming and his bladder bulging in all directions with the pressure of almost 2 litres of unreleased pee he fails to spot and trips over a over a 'Caution Wet Floor' sign. He tumbles and lands right on his extremely full bladder. A couple of spurts of urine escape from his urethral pipe, but he squeezes hard and manages to clamp off before any more escapes. For him that was no small achievement. Experimenting in the past with releasing a couple of spurts to ease pressure on a distended bladder he'd found it rarely worked well. Generally he'd ended up pissing himself, and struggled to avoid the understandable conclusion that he was an 'all or nothing' man. Today however luck was on his side and he managed to avoid the worst case scenario – temporarily at least.

Unfortunately, his landing in the big puddle left his crotch area looking like an accident had happened. It wasn't helped by swivelling onto his buttocks. Alas the fall also dislodged some more of the terrific quantities of gas in his belly. He felt a massive fart coming along. Jonah clenched his anus to keep from farting but in doing so sent his huge cock springing out of his flies. From choice he preferred flieless pants but the studio had been quite specific that for this particular shoot he'd have to wear ones with flies.

At that precise moment, a woman came round the corner looking for the ladies room - blond, petite but round in the boobs and butt. Unable to control himself completely Jonah released another couple of large pee spurts and she was hit in the eye by them. She hadn't initially noticed Jonah and didn't realise what exactly has happened, but was shocked and temporarily blinded.

Jonah, in a state of shock himself, covered his large cock and dived into the ladies. However, the woman he'd just inadvertently hit in the eye with his piss was on the warpath. She angrily followed Jonah into the ladies, demanding to know who the 'prankster' was.

"Come out! I know you're in here!" she yelled as she entered.

Jonah had retreated into the furthest of the cubicles and found himself crouching on top of the bowl, shivering with fear of being discovered in this position; in the ladies room with his enormous cock hanging out of his trousers. To make his situation even worse, he was hovering right over the salvation that his extremely full bladder so desperately needed but felt unable to pee. Even more desperate to piss and fart than ever, he peed.

"Can't... hold it... anymore..." whimpered Jonah and his cock lets forth a powerful stream. With his erection it shot up over the top of the cubicle and sprayed all over the ceiling and room immediately outside.

Momentarily he lost in blissful relief but, after half-emptying, realised where it was all going. He grabbed his cock and tried to angle it downwards into the bowl. All could manage though was to point it so that the stream shot under the door. Then he turned round and tried to point it at the bowl. Instead he slipped and hit his head on the door. His long pee continues spraying wildly, now over himself. By the time he'd finished, all 2 litres in his bladder had emptied everywhere but into the toilet. The blond woman who followed him into the ladies was stunned, as was the girl in the other stall. The whole bathroom stank of Jonah's piss and he lay dazed in one enormous puddle.

When he finally came to, Jonah found that he was stark naked. The blond woman had taken her revenge for spraying his urine in her eye. Thankfully, he had none of his valuables in his trousers. But he knew he must return to the set with only minutes left of the shoot and no clothes on. Although it's not his thing at all, Jonah proposed to resume filming the ad nude and his offer was gratefully accepted. A couple of advertising bods actually believed this is a brilliant idea and went off to write some new commercials, the shooting of which over the coming week will keep the crew in bread for several months.

Luckily the crew got over their initial shock at his appearance and decided to honour him with a round of drinks. He politely declined any offers of alcohol as preferred not to drink at lunchtime, but kindly accepted two pints of Diet Coke and was delighted to be told that a box of 12 bottles of excellent Chilean Merlot would be delivered to his apartment the next day along with enough of the Black Mamba energy drink to keep him happy for a year.

Later on he collected his coat and takes a pair of sandals for his feet. With his belly sloshing full of Diet Coke, he decided to set off for Starbucks ten blocks over to begin his date with a female admirer.

Approaching Starbucks and what he hoped would be relief, Jonah spotted Carla. A dashing hot brunette model. She'd done adverts for Pepsi, and appeared in Madonna videos. She was worth $48 million dollars and had her own show on MTV. They'd skped a couple of nights ago and the recognition was instant.

"Hiya! Jonah?"

"Hi Carla. How's it going?"

"Absolutely, totally gonzoed. OMG! You would not believe the morning I've had."

Jonah could feel his cock stiffening at the sight of Carla and felt the sap rising as three days' supply of cum started to ease itself into his urethra. It temporarily relieved the desire to pee, a fact for which he was more than a little thankful. He'd had a bit of play first thing thinking about today's date but didn't cum. He didn't always. It invariably heightened the pleasure when he finally did.

"Tell me all about it, Carla. What are you having to drink by the way.?"

"I don't mind really. I am dying of thirst. Five hours of pouting brings me out into a major sweat. A large cappuccino would be good."

Despite being painfully aware of his growing need to pee, Jonah thought it wouldn't seem right if he settled for a small coffee whilst Carla drank what was in effect a bucketload. He wasn't one to be outdone if it could be helped.

"Oh well in that case I'll have an extra large Americano, thank you. With milk please. Maybe we can share one of those enormous cookies. Anyhow tell me about your day."

"Oooh, been cooped up on a soundstage for hours on end, wearing nearly nothing, all for a foul German beer. I could barely stand the taste of it. It made me thirstier than I was before."

"Sounds fun. How much of this fould German beer did you have to drink? Tell me more, Carla."

"I don't know. One sip was too much. Thankfully they were kind enough to put me in a dressing room with a bathroom afterwards so I could be sick. Some people on these shoots don't get that benefit. How on Earth must they cope, just drinking and drinking and drinking for hours on end without a bathroom nearby?"

"With great difficulty. You were a good deal luckier than I was. I was doing some filming for an ad for an energy drink which overran and I ended up having a rather late lunch. Put it this way, my bladder didn't like it, especially as I had to drink a couple of litres of the stuff. That's not counting the drinks I'd had earlier either."

"OMG! TMI! LOL! Oh, you poor thing, I had no idea. That must have been awful. Ooooh, you must be feeling relieved now."

"Yes the relief when it finally came was amazing, although it wasn't quite what I'd have planned."

"Hmmmm, now I'm intrigued. Tell me more..."

"Well it's a long story but probably worth telling. I had the most amazing wee whilst showering this morning, the first for 11 hours. It felt incredible. Those early morning ones always do. Sure you want to hear more?"

"Hmmm, you seem to be enjoying the memory a bit too much. I was rather hoping to hear about the other uses of your... generous package."

(With that, she took her shoe off and traced her sole up his leg, before finding his crotch.)

"Well I woke at five and couldn't really get back to sleep. I was excited about meeting you and I'm afraid I couldn't help giving myself a little stroke. well 20 minutes of gentle stroking actually. That's how long it takes me to get hard. It's such a temptation, lying there naked under the duvet."

"It must be a temptation for anyone near you, just lying there all..."

(Carla suddenly discovers with her foot his nakedness under the coat. She looks aghast.)

"Carla, is everything alright?"

"You kinky sod!"

"Look, I can explain. There's a story behind that...if you'll let me continue."

"Kinky, dirty bastard!" (She extended her other foot out and began teasing, masturbating him with both feet.) "Aaah, here's the coffee..."

"Carla, if you'll just let me explain! Anyhow I got up just before seven had a shower and did the most amazing piss. I'd not been since eight last night so my poor old bladder was going to be pretty full. After that I got dressed, fixed breakfast and left my apartment about eight fifty."

"Anyway I got to the studio where I was filming about 9.45 and we started work at ten. It was great for the first hour or so and everything seemed to go like clockwork."

(Carla continued stroking him under the table to almost a full, throbbing, boner. She sipped her coffee.) "Mmmm, lovely."

"Yes it is rather good coffee, isn't it? Well about eleven I started to feel the need for a wee. Whenever I leave my apartment I know I'll need to go within a couple of hours or so. It makes no difference whether I've used the bathroom just before leaving or not and, as I'd peed at 7 I wasn't going try and make myself go at 8.45 'just in case.' It 'breaks the seal' - no doubt you're familiar with that expression."

(Carla continued stroking him, bringing him to full meaty erection. She alternated that with encircling the purple mushroom head, the plumpness of which deeply excited her.)

"I knew there wouldn't be any mid morning breaks and by twelve I was desperate for a piss, particularly as I'd not stinted on my breakfast coffee - I never do - and I'd drunk a fair amount of water on the Metro on my way in. Anyhow I was bursting for a wee and had a job staying professional. Luckily I wasn't in any imminent danger of pissing myself. Maybe it's luck and maybe it's because I'm a touch pee shy, but I'm one of those lucky guys who can need to go to the bathroom really bad for quite a while before the dam bursts. It didn't do my concentration any good though and I made a lot of avoidable mistakes, resulting in retakes being necessary. That, in turn, just made the agony worse."

"Anyhow, filming should have finished by one but it was well after by the time we were done. By then I was nearly pissing myself and in a mad rush to find a bathroom I ran into the ladies and ended up in a stall pissing everywhere but in the toilet. One of the ladies got an unexpected golden shower whilst I slipped and fell, knocking myself out. When I came to I found she'd taken her revenge by relieving me of my clothes. That's why I've no pants on. Fortunately my overcoat was elsewhere in the studio or matters would have been much worse."

"There wasn't much time for lunch but some of the crew took pity on me and bought me a couple of pints of Diet Coke."

(Carla looked up and noticed Jonah's bladder protruding somewhat. She suddenly realised what the score was.)

"Jonah, you need to piss now, don't you? I can tell."

"Yes, Carla. I needed to piss before I left the studio actually. Look do you mind if I go to the bathroom? It's not the first thing I like to mention on a date but I'm going to have to go soon."

A wicked grin crossed Carla's face.

"Sorry Jonah but I think you're out of luck. I've just seen the cleaner go in there and, if she's thorough, she'll be a while. You know how gross some people like to be, Besides, I'd love to make you hold, have you squirm just a little. You can hold it, can't you big boy?"

“Carla I'm not sure about this.”

“I am. Now drink up. We're going for a walk.”

“But Carla, I need the bathr...”

“Jonah, that will do. You've held it this far. You can hold a little longer. We're going for a walk in the park. It's not far from here – only a mile or so. If we're sharp about we'll be there in fifteen minutes.”

“What!”

Jonah's bladder ached and it felt distended like a football. He'd not realised Carla would be like this but realised he had little choice other than to obey so reluctantly he followed. The alternative was pissing in the street and he didn't fancy a hefty fine or the adverse publicity that would go with it. He had a reputation to protect and his dignity had suffered enough already.

To his surprise Jonah discovered that walking – and he had to be brisk to keep up with Carla – helped to ease his discomfort and his tail was still semi hard from her stroking earlier. That helped to ease matters a little.

Eventually they arrived at the park and Jonah's relief that he'd somehow managed to get there without peeing was considerable. Carla purposefully led him over to a cluster of trees, beckoning him on as she did. Once they were out of view she knelt down, took his penis in her hands and continued administering the slow, gentle but purposeful strokes she'd used earlier. Before he knew it Jonah realised that not only was he rock hard but she was milking him off. Unable to stop himself cumming if he'd wanted to, Jonah ejaculated, part of his load hitting Carla's face and part landing on the ground. Waves of relief swept over him as three days' worth of hot, sticky spunk oozed from his penis. Carla retrieved some tissue paper from a pocket and wiped her face.

“Gee whiz. That was some load! I bet you feel better for that big boy.”

“Yes but...”

“Well finish the job off then. I bet you're dying to flush your pipes out.”

Jonah could feel his erection subsiding and his ability to hold his pee any longer subsiding. A couple of large, angry spurts erupted from his tail, hitting Carla in the eye, just as had happened to the blonde woman earlier. She just grabbed another tissue and wiped, clearly unfazed by it. Unable to hold back any longer if he'd wanted, Jonah opened the floodgates and a torrent of pee poured out of his cock. Most of it landed on the ground but Carla did her best to drink as much of the gorgeous amber nectar as she could. It tasted slightly sweet. Maybe there were hints of that energy drink in there he'd consumed earlier. Anyway, it tasted far better than the foul German beer she'd been working on advertising that morning. It came with such force too. Jonah must have been peeing for over two minutes but it felt like twenty. Eventually his stream died to a trickle before stopping. The relief was indescribable. This was what the Brits described as 'going to the toilet' big style – except there wasn't a toilet in sight.

Carla was the first to speak.

“Thanks for that Jonah. I knew you could do it.”

Jonah smiled.

“Carla, I didn't realise you were into anything like that. It looks as though you're the kinky one if anything.”

Carla looked at him.

“Jonah can we meet again? I realise this probably wasn't what you had in mind for a first date and if the answer's 'no' I'll understand completely.”

Jonah smiled.

“How about lunch tomorrow? I'm working at home in the morning but I should be done by one. It'll have to be a liquid lunch though. I'm doing an interview in the afternoon and I don't do

interviews on an empty bladder.”

THE END

Hi and welcome.

Hi and welcome, Luke. I hope you have a great time here and look forward to seeing you around.

Very nice. Thanks for sharing.

I would and I have but any first meeting is necessarily a social meet for coffee, lunch or afternoon tea.

Good story and well written.

Hi and welcome, Rich. It's great to see a friend from another site.

Hi and welcome, Jodi 69. You've come to the right place. Like you I enjoy wetting and desperation but my toilet interests don't stray far beyond excretion. I hope very much that you have a good time and look forward to seeing you around.

Thanks for sharing that. I sometimes like to stand in the bath wearing a pair of pants and totally soak them.

I haved moved this thread here because it is the sort of subject matter that belongs here...

It always both amazes, frustrates, and irritates me that our fetish - essentially harmless pee fun between consenting adults - is so frequently viewed as something terrible enough to warrant legal sanction. Just about the worst crime any of us ever do in terms of our fetish is maybe pee on some hotel carpet somewhere. Not cool, maybe, but hardly crime of the century. Especially when you consider what real evil is out there.

Amongst my more off-topic interests is an interest in criminal psychology and true crime. This has led me to true crime forums in the past, which have in turn opened my eyes to some of the horrors readily available on the surface web, sometimes in such innocuous places as Youtube. There is footage of animals being tortured to death, and people too, including one clip of a screaming 16 year old girl being burned alive by vigilantes in Latin America. And that's just on Youtube! A site freely available to anyone as young as 13! There are also numerous so-called gore sites legally available for the "pleasure" of weirdo's who enjoy watching such things. Some of those who do have respectable jobs and appear to live otherwise respectable lives, yet they take gruesome pleasure in watching other people suffering or dying horribly. And all that is readily available on the surface web. A simple google search could find any of it within minutes if not seconds.

But recently, a discussion came up about the so-called "deep web" or "dark web", a deeper level of the internet inaccessible to normal search engines. Special search engines such as TOR are required to access it, which also supposedly help shield accessors and suppliers from identification.

I did a little reasearch. Of course, there was no way I was ever going to to even attempt to go into the deep web. I have my sanity, mental health, sense of right and wrong and desire to remain free of legal hassles to think about. But I have spent quite a bit of time reading up about it, and reading the accounts of those who claim to have been there and seen some of the stuff available. A bit like the debate that used to be had about the alleged existence of so-called "snuff" films, the jury is still out in regards to how much of this is real and how much urban legend. Hopefully, a lot of it is the latter. I certainly hope so.

Of course, paedophiles exploit the deep web to sell or share images and vids of children being abused or even killed. Recently an Australian guy called Peter Scully was arrested for putting out live streaming child abuse and murder on the deep web, with clients in Europe, the UK and the USA paying anything from $100 to $10,000 to view the abuse as it happened and be able to direct it. Women were involved in the abuse as well as men. Some children were killed. That this is not urban myth is known because the police have found the videos! The trial is pending. Other stuff about this guy's evil work has been said which may or may not be true. One of his supposed films - "Dafu Love" - is so utterly sick and twisted that I won't even describe it, but many regard this one as urban myth.

Away from the paedo stuff, some of the other shit whose existence is often hinted at or claimed to have been seen, is so called "Red Room" stuff, where wealthy customers allegedly pay large sums of money to watch live streaming of a victim being tortured to death, with the highest bidder able to direct the torture. Said to include disembowlment, burning, skinning, slow dismemberment, whipping and beating. Urban myth? Perhaps. But sadly, there are people out there capable of doing absolutely anything for money, and there are a small minority of very wealthy people who are just evil. Supply and demand. So perhaps not.

Supposedly, there are also deep web file sharing sites whose theme is horrific animal abuse, where members upload and share pics and vids of themselves horrifically torturing and/or killing animals.

Other sites purport to be selling the services of hitmen so you can pay to have anyone killed in any way you want - though according to most accounts, most such sites are scams with the person attempting to pay for the killing being himself or herself scammed. In most cases it seems, the money changes hands and nothing happens, or the person who paid the money for a killing is themselves blackmailed.

There is so much more. But I think you get the picture.

What gets me is why is our fetish considered so unacceptable when there are so many much more horrific and truly depraved individuals exploiting the internet and feeding off it? Why can't the powers that be leave us alone and target the real sick bastards and bitches out there?

I'd welcome any comments from anyone more internet savvy than me, and from anyone who has had any kind of experience in law enforcement and has anything more concrete or informed to add to any of this.

I think it's a case of 'low hanging fruit' if you know what I mean. It's often a good deal easier to target things which some people find uncongenial but are essentially harmless than tackle the supply of material which does serious harm to minds, bodies and society.