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Another early memory comes from my teen years. I was on holiday, on a beach. I had got bored, and went for a walk down the beach on my own. I saw a girl about my own age, perhaps a little younger. I still remember a lot of the details about her. She had short dark hair, cut in a bob. She was not in a bikini or swimsuit. Instead she wore shorts (dark red) and a cheesecloth blouse. not buttoned, but loosely tied in front. She was paddling in the shallow water at the edge of the sea and must have been there for some time as her clothes were wet through.

When I first saw her she was with her brother, but he soon left and she was on her own. After a short while, he came back towards her. When he got close enough, he shouted to her that she had to get out as they were leaving. She turned and waved, but then she started to walk away, towards deeper water. Then suddenly she stopped and crouched down to squat in the water. It took me a moment or two to work it out, but then I realised that she was peeing. I felt sure about that because she had parted her legs and she was staring down at the front of her shorts. I imagined that she was probably watching her own yellow cloud billowing into the water between her thighs.

Until then, I had been vaguely aware that many of the girls I saw at that beach must have used the sea as their toilet - there was nowhere else - but I had not imagined that I might actually see one pissing. Now the sight of this girl relieving herself right in front of my eyes was an immediate turn on and I just kept staring while she peed. The fact that she was peeing in her clothes was a particular turn on, and so too was her technique. The squat seemed a very feminine posture, in the circumstances. Clearly she didn't care that anyone looking at her might be likely to know what she was doing. Yet also she had dipped her shorts into the still waters of the sea so her urine would simply mingle with the water and couldn't be seen. It was an interesting mix of public and private, and she seemed to have chosen the time and place to wee. She might have been able to wait until she got home from the beach.

Her brother waded in to the water to tell her again that she had to leave. She turned to him and told him that she was pissing and would get out when she had finished. He stood beside her while she carried on peeing and then she stood up and they walked away together.

From that single experience, I decided I would try to be more observant, and see if I might catch another girl squatting to pee. I quickly found I was regularly seeing several on each trip to the beach. Sometimes they would make it very obvious that they wanted to pee (squeezing their groin, for example), and sometimes, when they did pee, they would be more blatant.

Many early memories. One of the first was when I was at school. It was the end of the break time and the whole school were lined up ready to go back inside, class by class. It often used to take a little while to get everyone organised, and we all had to wait patiently in line until it was the turn of our class to walk back indoors. I was standing, waiting, and something made me turn around. The girl behind me - let's call her Dawn - must have been desperate to go back indoors to use the toilet. She had got to the point where she could hold it no longer. Right in front of my eyes, she lost her self-control. Fascinated, I watched Dawn piss on the ground, having to wet her knickers. She wore a skirt and even now I remember that I was puzzled to see streams snaking down her legs and soaking her socks as well as a single stream falling from under her skirt.

Luke and I decided to visit the market. There was an auction scheduled for that morning, and that was always good entertainment. The goods for sale were slaves. We got there early. The first sales were women with children, and the men would be sold in the afternoon. The trick was to get there in time to see the young women on display, before they went under the hammer, in the last lots before the men.

We timed it well, and arrived as the first sales were underway. The young women had been delivered to the market, and were unloaded from their carts and marched into the holding pens, under canvas. We left the crowds around the auction pen, and followed the slaves into the stock tents. The prime young women were in the usual part of the holding pens, in eight or ten cages, usually with four occupants, sometimes just three. They were catalogued for sale as household slaves. Of course, what Luke and I liked, as did all the other men there, was that the slaves were completely naked and they all had their hands tied behind their backs. Guards patrolled the area, to keep them on their feet. Sitting slaves always looked lazy. We slowly walked around, taking in the flesh on display, and deciding, which of them, money no object, we would buy for our personal possession.

The women had all been enslaved for a while by the time they arrived at our market. They were afraid of what might happen, but had been through enough humiliations that they did not try to hide their nakedness. Not that they could; the cages were bare, and each was open for us to walk around all sides. Few of them made eye contact. They mostly looked at their feet, although some showed more curiosity in their surroundings.

We were on our second tour, when Luke tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed into the cage behind me. He wanted me to look at one of the girls in it. She was pretty; I remembered her from our first circuit, dark haired (shoulder length), tanned, dark eyes, with a slender, lithe body. I let my gaze fall over her figure, taking in the shape of her small, firm, pert breasts, with the dark nipples, her soft, taut stomach with the dark hair over her inviting fanny, her fit, rounded buttocks, and her long, slim legs. She was one of the fitter items on display, but probably not my first choice. I turned to ask Luke which of her features had caught his attention. He'd anticipated my question.

'Just watch her.' he said.

I did. And after a short while, she started jiggling slightly, then bent her knees, and pressed her thighs together. With a sudden shock I realised what it was that Luke had wanted me to see. The naked girl in front of me was struggling against a desperate need to empty her bladder. Soon, whether she wanted to or not, she would have to pee in full view of the auction customers. I turned to grin to Luke, and he grinned back. I knew that he, like me, would want to stay to see it happen. It was not unusual for a prime household slave to have to urinate during the course of the auction, but I'd not previously had the chance to anticipate it. It was the first time that I'd realised, before it happened, that one of the women was going to piss.

It reminded me of the women I'd watched peeing at the last auction. I'd most enjoyed the one who had released her flood just as she'd been pushed on to the stage for the auctioneer to describe her. He'd just turned to look at her, and stayed there, motionless and silent, while she dropped to squat in front of him, unable to control her bodily functions any longer. Business stopped, and all eyes were on her crouching, pissing, naked. He'd waited for her to stop weeing, then made a joke about her being supposed to be house trained. She'd quickly been hauled to her feet, pulled to the podium,, briskly sold and, within minutes, handed, sobbing to her new owner. I'd later heard that two of the girls brought to the side of the stage to wait their turn had then decided to go, but I'd not seen them.

The other two I did see had both been in the cage, but I'd not seen either of them start peeing. One had not been very obvious. I'd started by noticing that she was standing in a puddle, then seen that the puddle was growing, then realised that she was still going right where she stood, pissing down her own legs. She had her legs close together, but not quite touching, and had tilted her hips, to direct the flow of pee on to her left thigh. She'd just about finished, so I'd not seen much. I'd seen even less of the other, who was squatting on the floor of her cage when I saw her. She too had almost finished. I saw the last dribbles splashing into her puddle, and then she stood up and stepped away from it.

I'd seen other cages with puddles in, but I'd not seen any other women actually going. Nor had I noticed any who looked desperate, as did the one I was now watching.

'What's her name?' I asked Luke. He always took a close interest in the catalogue.

'Lily', he replied. Household nubiles were always named after flowers.

She had been jiggling about again, and now again pressed her thighs hard together, bending at both knees and waist. Her face was red; perhaps from embarrassment at her imminent loss of control, or perhaps just from the effort of trying not to leak. We weren't the only ones watching; a small crowd had gathered, including one of the guards. From the expression on his face, he too was hoping soon to see her piss on the floor. He shouted a warning to her, that she must stand up. She did straighten up, but kept looking at the ground. The two other women in the cage turned to glare at him.

Lily was now bouncing on the balls of her feet. 'Lily!' Luke called. She turned and looked at him. 'Just let go!' he shouted. 'Get it over with!' She looked daggers at him. She shook her head fiercely. But she was still only just able to keep the floor dry. She turned her back on us. She squeezed her thighs together again, twisting one leg in front of the other. She almost lost her balance, and had to put a foot out quickly. With her hands still tied behind her back, she bent her knees and waist to thrust her bum out towards us.

She relaxed her grip for a moment, and a dribble of pee leaked out. Briefly a quick burst of liquid sparkled in the air, and the dry wooden boards beneath her were spattered with dark, shiny wet spots. She straightened up, pressed her thighs together, and then her body defeated her will. Having released a few drips, she couldn't now stop peeing for more than a few seconds before she felt herself having to let a little more trickle our. She felt the hot pee tickle the top of her thigh, and run down the back of her legs. She bent to make herself more comfortable, and then found the trickle turned into a flood. Luke and I saw a sudden torrent gushing out from between her legs to splatter noisily on the wooden floor. With her posture, she was pissing forward, and splashing her feet. She bent further forward, so now she had her back almost parallel to the ground, and parted her legs slightly. Now Lily was pissing straight down, her torrent pouring directly down behind her heels. She tried to recover control, tried to stop peeing, but could not. We saw her flow slacken briefly, then it rushed from her again with renewed vigour. Her face flushed red, as she realised her bladder had betrayed her, and she had no choice but to continue to urinate until she was empty. She put her head down and stared at the tinkling liquid pouring out of her most private place. A tear ran down each cheek.

Luke nudged me and pointed to Rose, the blonde in the cage with Lily. She had moved in front of Lily and was facing her. She was looking directly at her as she mirrored her stance; feet apart, knees bent, leaning forward with her bum pushed out behind her. Rose started to tinkle. She too must also have been bursting to use the toilet, as her stream of piss immediately became a fine waterfall to match Lily's.

(I have to confess, that the sight was too much for me. My cock had been hard all morning, with the anticipation, and then the reality of so many naked young women to inspect. Lily's desperation had hardened me still further, and her sudden and intense involuntary urination had almost triggered my own release. Now, there was a second girl peeing in front of me. I could not contain my excitement, and I felt an intense surge of the most physical pleasure as my erect cock twitched and spat my hot come into my breeches.)

I am not sure whether Rose decided to pee then to support Lily, or whether the sight of Lily relieving herself made it impossible for Rose to hold back her own release. I suspect it was a combination of both, but probably more that Rose waned to do what little she could to ease Lily's humiliation. Rose shouted something to the two other girls in that cage. I think she was trying to persuade them to show solidarity. If so, she succeeded.

Yasmin stared coldly at Rose for a moment, then shrugged. A moment later, she squatted down, as women often do when they are to pee on the ground, balanced, with knees together and feet parted. Willow, the fourth woman paused for a moment, then made up her mind. She lowered herself to kneel on the floor. She shuffled so her feet were apart, next to her bum, rather than under her. She was facing me, so I could see clearly between her legs.

Lily and Rose were still thundering their streams on to the wooden floor. Yasmin was finding it difficult to get started. Willow had no such problem. I saw a flickering under her as she began to make a warm puddle. She pissed in two or three short squirts before she managed to open herself fully, and then a strong continuous stream poured urgently from her. A trickle ran out from under her left leg, and spread the puddle across the floor.

And then Yasmin's pee started to flow. She stared distantly at the roof of her cage while she pissed fiercely and quickly in one long stream. As soon as she finished, she rose to her feet, avoiding all eye contact, and walked away from her puddle.

Luke and I then left the compound, to watch the sales themselves start.

I watched the girl in the row in front of me. She was dancing to the music of the band, and I was mesmerised by the way her cute, round, little bum, snug in tight, small, denim shorts was wriggling back and forth. I was sure that she was not just dancing. She was also pee-dancing. She looked like she badly needed a wee. I realised that with a shock of excitement, but I was not really surprised. The band was popular, with a mainly female fan base. She, and many others, had got to her place early and had been waiting for the band to come on for a long time. Those who had left for a comfort break had not come back.

I was expecting a rush for the portaloos at the end of the gig. I had high hopes of seeing many women too desperate to want to queue for relief. I would be disappointed if the show did not end with girls publicly peeing in the grass near the toilet queues. I did not expect what happened next. The song finished, and as the crowd went wild with applause, the band launched into the opening chords of their latest, biggest hit, a catchy tune that was a sure crowd pleaser. An animal scream from 10,000 female throats filled the air. The girl in front of me joined in, first putting her hands to her mouth, and then stretching her arms to the sky, with everyone else.

And she wet her knickers.

This was not just her underwear getting a bit damp. This was not just a little dribble of urine moistening her clothing. This was not just a short squirt that might pass unnoticed. This was not just that she screamed so loud that some wee came out.

It was just some trick of the light, and a subtle change in her posture that made me look down again. Did I mention that she had a gorgeous bum? Suddenly I realised that clear liquid was just starting to pour through her shorts, streaming down the inside and back of her legs. It took me a moment to understand that she had just begun pissing into her knickers. I don’t know how quickly she knew that she was weeing in her clothes.

Thinking about it afterwards, I don’t think she had realised how badly she needed the toilet. I think she was completely lost in the music and her feelings for the band. (Most of the audience were in love with one or other of them.) And I think that when she screamed, she just squeezed on her stomach muscles, while not realising that she was not holding on to her bladder tightly enough. So as she screamed, she didn’t care that she was letting go inside her lips between her legs also. As she screamed, her hot piss burst from the lips of her fanny and filled her pants with warm liquid. A distant part of her mind decided to just let go, relax, pee, end the discomfort. Part of her mind registered that if felt nice to let her bladder squeeze out its contents as quickly as possible, it felt nice to relax her tired muscles holding on, it felt nice to feel warm fluid buzzing its way out of her body, it felt nice to feel the warm wetness bubbling past her eager, sensual clitoris, it felt nice to feel warm liquid running over the lips of her fanny and almost tickling the back of her legs.

And then she realised what she was doing. She was shocked to find herself standing in the middle of a large crowd, publicly doing something she would normally do only in private. She was pissing. In her knickers. Wetting herself. Going to the toilet. Fully dressed. Standing up. Everyone could see. She had completely lost control. She tried to stop, but could not. She realised that she was going to have to keep weeing until she was empty.

She looked about her, and saw everyone else looking at the band. Nobody seemed to have noticed that she was having an embarrassing accident, she thought. She didn’t like feeling her wee running down her legs, over her feet and through her sandals, so she changed her posture slightly, bending her knees and parting her legs a little. Now she was squirting her pee directly towards the ground, and most of it just fell in a sparkling stream. She felt splashes on her ankles as she pissed, splattering into the growing puddle between her feet.

I watched the whole time while she stood still and emptied her bladder. I knelt down on one knee, and pretended to tie a shoe lace, so I could better see her wetting her shorts. She was almost motionless, like a living statue in a fountain, for a good 30 seconds, just peeing uncontrollably through her clothes and onto the ground. I could feel a fine mist of pee droplets splashing on the back of my hand, and I barely resisted the temptation to reach out another few inches and feel her hot pee running through my fingers.

Then she realised that she could regain control and choose to stop it. Quickly she closed the flow, and the stream died away to a dribble, and then a few drips. She didn’t move for a few more moments, then she gave a little shake, and then, realising that the band were just starting the first chorus of their latest hit, the shake became a wriggle, and then she was dancing again, and joining in as the audience sang along with the chorus. The glistening puddle between her feet faded as the pool of urine soaked into the dry earth. There was a very small wet patch on her shorts, and few would realise that she had urinated in them.

I stopped pretending that I had tied my shoe lace and I stood up. Now she looked completely unconcerned.

And then it got better. When the song ended, she told her friend what she’d done. Even when she pointed to the small wet patch between her legs, her friend couldn’t believe that she’d been so bold. So she demonstrated, and turning to face her friend, she parted her legs, and released another short squirt through her shorts.

And then it got even better, because she persuaded her friend – who must have been dying for the loo too – to go in her knickers where she stood. She parted her feet, bent her knees slightly, and sprayed through her panties while the band played on. She was in a very short, tight dress, so she managed not to get that wet, and she managed to keep her legs dry too. She just stood, motionless, hands on knees for about 30 seconds while she wet herself, then she to straightened up and carried on dancing.

I then eased my way out of the crowd, as I didn’t expect to see those two pee again. But, as I expected, the lines were building for the portaloos long before the band finished, and many of their desperate fans chose to squat and pee openly on the grass at the edge of the crowd, rather than miss any of the show. There was a constant stream of girls dropping their knickers and peeing in full view..

It got even better when the last encore finished. I did also see a number of wet bums, so the two I saw wet themselves cannot have been the only ones.

It was at a music festival, late at night. It had started to rain, and so the crowd was crammed into the large marquees in which the bands were playing. When the band finished, there was a rush for the nearest toilets. Many of the men would not bother, but preferred to stand and piss against the nearest fence, rather than queue in the rain for an unpleasant portal.

The queues for the toilets grew quickly, and some desperate women too decided to squat in front of the fence and piss into the grass. At times there were more women undressing and peeing than it was possible to see properly.

I remember one very well. From the way she was dashing towards the fence, it was clear that she had decided that she was going to pee in public. She wore a white, tight fitting vest and blue denim shorts. She got to the fence, paused, then turned to face downhill, with the fence on her right. I expected her to drop her shorts and knickers to pop a squat. Instead, she first pulled her vest off one shoulder, then the other, and pushed it down to expose her neat, firm breasts. Then she quickly undid the fastening on her shorts, and pushed everything down to her knees, as she dropped to a squat, already squirting her pee onto the ground between her feet.

I realised that her vest must have been a one-piece garment, like a swimsuit, and she'd had to slip out of it completely if she hadn't wanted to wet herself. So now she was crouching over the short grass, completely naked to the knees, pissing assertively on the ground. I had to stroll past, taking in the curve of her bum, and then the curve of her bare breasts, while also trying to watch her stream flickering out in front of her. Once past, I turned and strolled back - she had her head down, and was concentrating on studying herself peeing - and got another good look, this time from the front, so I even got a glimpse of the lips between her legs as her pee poured from them.

She finished peeing, wiped, threw the tissue at the fence, pulled up her shorts, and with them, her vest to her waist, then snapped back the straps over her shoulders, to cover her tits again. And then she walked back to the marquee, hips swaying.

But by then, three other girls had bared themselves to allow me to watch them answer their urgent calls to water the grass.

I saw girls wet their knickers at school a few times, and even before my teens, that fascinated me, and I used to fantasise about seeing all the girls I knew having to pee. I think it was desperation and lack of control, leading to public peeing that did it for me. Then, in my early teens, I discovered that I could see girls peeing at the beach, if I kept my eyes open. What I liked about that was that often I would know that she needed to pee, and, by paying attention, I would watch her as she decided where to go and how she might try to conceal what she was doing. Sometimes they did not try very hard to hide. I liked seeing them the best, as they might just wee in their swimsuits so I could see the stream.

I was at school when one of my class mates wet herself standing next to me. It was just before classes were due to start after a lunch break. We were all standing in line, arranged by class, waiting to be called back indoors. It was all quiet. I heard a noise behind me, the sudden sound of splashing water, and I turned round to see what it was. Carly was standing behind me. She must have been desperate, and now had lost control and started pissing uncontrollably into her knickers. I just stood and stared at the stream falling from her to splash between her feet, with more little rivers running down her legs into her shoes. I watched her puddle growing, fascinated to see a girl peeing in front of me. I think I had to be dragged away, as I had not noticed others being called indoors.