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  1. "Alright two more beers, coming up," Maia said with a smile, grabbing two more glasses. It was another long night at the bar, but she couldn't help but be in a good mood. She had gotten an A on an exam, the subway wasn't late, and no one has caused any trouble yet. What more could she ask for? Maybe a bathroom break. The second she got to work it's been nonstop, not getting a single break. On top of that, customers always want to have a drink with her, and alcohol really always makes her have to go. But she could make it, she knew she could. After shifts like this she always peed extra hard, a time or two having to duck into an alley because she didn't think she could make it home and leaving a puddle, but always making it at least to the end of her shift. She handed the two men their beers and took a deep breath, leaning against the bar as she enjoyed the small lull in attention. She felt a small nag on her bladder but she ignored it, partially because she knew she could handle it and partially because it didn't matter, she wasn't allowed a bathroom break anyways. The bar couldn't be left unmanned, and she was the only one working. So she held it. She held it as one hour passed into another, a couple more drinks in her system. She never got drunk at work, but she did enjoy the perks of free drinks. Until they really weighed upon her bladder that is. Her bladder got fuller and fuller, the pressure growing more prominent as time went on. She carried a few drinks out to a table, trying to rub her thighs together as she walked. It seemed like all at once the drinks hit her, taking her urgency from a 3 to an 8 pretty quickly. As she stood behind the bar again, things just got worse. The bad part about bars? Drunk people. Drunk people with no filters that have no problem announcing their needs. "God, you know, I really need a piss," a guy said to her, finishing his drink. "Then go," she said, cleaning a beer mug and putting it on the shelf under the bar. "It's right through that door," she said, nodding to the door right next to the bar. It was so tantalizingly close, and yet she wasn't allowed to go. She watched him get up and go in there, when the door opened out of the corner of her eye she could see another guy standing at the urinal and it made her press her legs together more. Fuck she really needed to go. She started to bounce slightly in place, just trying to forget about the liquid sitting inside of her, ready to shoot out. A man came in from outside where he had just been smoking and she glared at him, though it faltered when the smoke smell hit her, causing her to sneeze. She froze slightly when she leaked, the sneeze forcing it out of her. She bit her lip and looked down, a small drop slowly snaking down her leg. Fuck. At least no one else would notice it. Maia noticed the empty mug under the bar and remembered something that happened a few weeks before, one of the bar patrons deciding that his beer mug would be a better place to piss than the bathroom. She knew she shouldn't. She knew she should just try to hold on that much longer, but it was hard. And the mug was right there, just begging her to use it. Plus Maia couldn't lie, the idea of peeing right there at the bar with no one any the wiser was kind of thrilling to her. She chuckled to herself as she saw her nipples grow harder with the adrenaline, visible through her thin tank top. She swallowed thickly as she shifted closer, trying to think of the best way to do this. This would be much easier if I had a dick, she thought to herself, the need getting worse and worse as time went on. She got as close as she could get, lifting her leg and resting her knee on the shelf. She pushed up her skirt without a second thought, forgetting that there was a mirror behind the bar. If someone knew exactly where to look, they'd probably see her ass by then. But she couldn't find it in herself to care. All she cared about was peeing. She reached down and took the handle of the mug in her hand, positioning it right under her. It took a couple minutes before she could get going with all these people around, her brain and body afraid of them hearing. But the music was loud enough, the chatter a constant stream, so after another moment she felt a small dribble start to slip out. Maia sighed contently as it started to pick up strength, her piss now a steady stream into the mug. She couldn't believe she was really doing it, she was really peeing under the bar. A women walked up to her and she panicked, her heart starting to race. She couldn't stop now, it felt so good. She bit her lip slightly and just prayed the woman couldn't hear the sound of liquid hitting liquid under the bar, the mug filling up much quicker than she wanted. "Can I have two vodka shots please?" the woman asked and Maia silently celebrated that they weren't things she had to walk away to get. She poured the drinks as the piss continued to pour out of her, the woman thanking her right as Maia's stream started to wain. She sighed again once it was finally over and she carefully moved her leg back down, squatting down under the bar pretending to look for something. But in reality she was looking at the mug and her eyes grew wide, it was almost full to the brim. She grabbed a napkin and carefully wiped herself and threw them away, pulling down her skirt before standing back up and washing her hands in the sink behind the bar. She was surprised how well that went, and how much easier work was when she wasn't bursting. At the end of the night she dumped the mug down the sink and washed it, but she couldn't stop thinking about what she did. Once it was clean she put it right back where it was, just in case she might need it again tomorrow.
  2. Didn't make it out of bed
  3. Really had to Pee. I think I was still half asleep LOL
  4. Went through an old computer hard drive to find this one. Made in 2015. Let me know how it works for you. Jim/Bonnie. https://instaud.io/2qrs
  5. Being fascinated with pussies in general, and more specific my wife's exquisite example, I've spent a lot of time studying them up-close and personal. Fortunately Bonnie wholeheartedly helps me in these studies as she is rather a bit of an exhibitionist and it makes her super horny to go along with my observations and experimentations. Also much of the time she gets to pee for me which turns her on, and then of course I oblige her urges with energetic cunt-lapping followed by jackhammer fucking until she almost passes out. My Bonnie's coochie (her word) is full and generous -- its outer lips are pussy and long and lap over in a nice bulge. When she has been exercising, or on-the-rag they sometimes stick together as if glued, and if she then starts to urinate, they seal off the flow for a few moments allowing the piss to inflate them until they suddenly burst open and gush out the retained pee. Sometimes depending on her ass angle the pee rushes in a flood down her asscrack flooding her pulsing asshole which gives me another cheap thrill to witness. She is vocal about this: "Oh my hot piss right on my asshole again. Baby make sure to wipe me there". A great thrill is watching her in slow motion get set to pee: Pulling up of the skirt, tucking parts of it under her arms to hold it in place, the panty-drop around the ankles, then crouching slightly and spreading of her ass cheeks. If my face is upturned to observe, then, like the bombay doors opening on a bomber, the outer lips slowly spread open, revealing the cavernous inner pussy -- it's ruby red inner lips then opening by themselves revealing her lima-bean sized clit which now extends from it's little hood, glistening with moisture as she's been rubbing it externally to get it ready. Next to the clit is that tight ribbed opening that has caressed my cock and tongue, the place where I have spilled my hot cum countless times -- the input of her vagina. As she gets set to release her flow, her urinary opening reveals itself, and poutily protrudes as it relaxes to let go. Several tiny drops first appear, then two or three very short spurts which usually are the most pungent and flavorful of the load. And then the full force of her bladder screams out of the pee chute in full flow -- if the lips retract slightly to interfere, it breaks into a fan shaped stream, and several smaller streams run down either her legs or asscrack, hissing mightily as they descend. If she's holding the lips open for me to observe, the flow stays circular and she can aim it much as a man does. Bonnie is also capable of rapidly interrupting the flow which is very stimulating if she's pissing on my hardened erection. During the final few spurts at the end of her pee, she expels the last drops by clenching her ass muscles, and her tight brown asshole contracts then opens and contracts again. If the pee is flowing that direction, the opening will capture some of the pee or mine if I am peeing against it which I sometimes to. A portion of the pee will go into the hole and be captured -- not much, but enough to be expelled along with a fart after the main event is over. Again very very hot to watch or to touch. As long as we're on the subject, Bonnie taught me a trick I'd never had before. I have long foreskin, so long it covers the head of the cock when erect and can be stretched over. She is able to take the skin, tuck it into her anus while the head of the cock is still retracted into the sheath, and then fart into the skin thus inflating it. The heat of the fart on the sensitive cockhead and the pure naughtiness of this act are incredible. As you may have guessed, we have a great time in bed together.
  6. Working on a ambulance sometimes you get busy and don't have time to pee. The other day I transported a patient to a hospital in another city. I was working with a cute female co-worker. After leaving that patient we had to go back and transport another to the same town. I noticed that after our first call my partner didn't stop to use the restroom. After dropping off our second patient My partner said "Let's go...if I don't find a bathroom I'm gong to pee in my pants" Down the hall we found a bathroom and she dashed inside and shut the door. Coming out she said "Boy I feel so much better" Made the whole day better. Wetman
  7. From "My Secret Life", published in Victorian England .. 1,400 pages of great writing .. excerpts here often. Here's part one--your comments. There is so much more I can excerpt if you like this sample. My piddling letch, which seems for a time to have been dormant, returned. I began to make her piddle in all sorts of attitudes, first in a pot, then in a basin — at times with her cunt opened naturally, then holding the lips open, so that the little red piddle-vent could be seen almost. — At no time of my life had I such variety of frolics with urine as I then had. — It may be termed my pissing period. I began to piss with her, would keep myself from watering for hours before I met her, so that I might deliver the fullest, longest, and strongest stream of urine possible. — She was famous at it. I have seen the piddle stream of scores of women, but hers was the hardest, and strongest that ever wetted a pot. — I hit on the idea of bringing her to the bedside, laying her back, putting a basin under her bum as close as the bed would permit. Then she would hold the lips of her cunt wide open, and I pointing my tool, would empty my bladder. The yellow stream hitting either prick hole, or broad surface of the cunt, splashed in a thousand little bright drops on her thighs, or lodged in the crisp black hair, then ran down to where the quim nears the bum hole, and dropped into the basin beneath. Directly I had pissed, my prick would stand, I joined my body to hers, and capable no Another way I have tried unsuccessfully with an-other woman. — With Sarah it was practicable on ac-count of her height — for in tall women, the extra length is nearly always in the legs, and not in the body. Stripping ourselves start naked, I stiffened my prick by her incitements, or perhaps by a few preliminary shoves up her cunt, then both standing up before the glass, I used to put my prick up her and she would piss, and the warm stream run dripping round my balls, falling on both our thighs, and descending till we stood in a pond. — Then standing, I would fuck her, watching our movements in the glass. Two other modes, in which we used to amuse our selves with our bladders were these. — We used to strip ourselves start naked, shoes and stockings off even, and arrange the cheval glass, so that with other glasses I could see her both back and front at a glance. Then lay on my back with hands under my head on a pillow, so raised as to enable me to see the picture we made. Then she would stand for a minute straddling over me, and the sight of the red stripe peeping out of the black hair would stiffen my penis. Then sitting down on me as she would on a chamber pot, she would take my stiff prick and engulf it in her cunt, the dark hair of her quim meeting mine, her bum cheeks just touching without weighting heavily on my thighs. Then out would come her warm stream, hitting my belly below my navel, and running down in two little streams by the side of my balls, uniting beneath them, washing over my arsehole, and depositing itself on the carpet on which I was lying. At other times I reversed her, and she engulfed my prick in her cunt with her backside towards me. — Then I could play with her cool, firm, smooth back-side, and feel round the stem of my prick just where it was lost, and hidden in her warm juicy tube. I could feel to her bumhole — or back bone. In the glasses I could see my prick rising out from the balls, and losing itself in the dark black thicket on her cunt lips. — "Open the lips, Sarah." — Immediately her two fingers would separate the lips, leaving the broad red surface, at which sight my prick would throb with desire to spend. — "Piss, piss dear, I can bear it no longer." — Then it would fall like a cataract in front of my balls, and partly on my thighs. Longer of delay, bedewed quickly with sperm the inside of the orifice which I had just be-dewed outside with a thinner fluid. Pissing against her cunt, she declared, no man had ever done to her but me. She enjoyed it, it seemed to make her lewed, and she always spent with me after-wards. — When spending she shewed it plainly, and did not attempt to hide it as some do. — Indeed she could not, for her cunt would close so strongly round my prick, that there was no mistaking what it was up to. — There is one thing in these amatory micturating bouts, which I only recollect having done with her and one other woman. — It was pissing when up her cunt. — She told me she had allowed a man or two to try, but that they could not succeed. — Indeed it is difficult. For when a prick is stiff and in the state of nervous strain which fits it for penetrating a cunt, its ejaculatory muscles struggle to shoot out sperm, and so I suppose contract the opening to the bladder, and prevent piddle issuing. But one night she was undressed, and lying at the side of the bed with thighs wide open, up I thrust my prick bursting, and as I thought with piss so proud, that nothing could prevent the jet. When up her cunt I tried to piss, but my prick began to throb, and her cunt, as I thought, to squeeze it, altho she declared it was quiet. I strained till I farted like a cow after beans, but not a drop would come. — The more I strained, the more difficult I found it to restrain myself from oscillating my buttocks for an outshoot of spunk. Another way I have tried unsuccessfully with an-other woman. — With Sarah it was practicable on ac-count of her height — for in tall women, the extra length is nearly always in the legs, and not in the body. Stripping ourselves start naked, I stiffened my prick by her incitements, or perhaps by a few preliminary shoves up her cunt, then both standing up before the glass, I used to put my prick up her and she would piss, and the warm stream run dripping round my balls, falling on both our thighs, and descending till we stood in a pond. — Then standing, I would fuck her, watching our movements in the glass. I used to be thinking constantly of what voluptuous tricks I could do when we met, but for a time, a preliminary usage of our organs, in pissing some way or another was my delight. — Then it took such possession of me that I thought of nothing else. My letters to her to meet me used to run. "Tonight — seven — keep in P." — By which I meant her to have her bladder full. — So she used — so full at times that she said, "If you don't do something directly, I must piddle, I can't keep it in any longer." Then the evening's amusement began. — The quantity she spouted oftentimes, I am sure, was a quart or more. There is one thing in these amatory micturating bouts, which I only recollect having done with her and one other woman. — It was pissing when up her cunt. — She told me she had allowed a man or two to try, but that they could not succeed. — Indeed it is difficult. For when a prick is stiff and in the state of nervous strain which fits it for penetrating a cunt, its ejaculatory muscles struggle to shoot out sperm, and so I suppose contract the opening to the bladder, and prevent piddle issuing. But one night she was undressed, and lying at the side of the bed with thighs wide open, up I thrust my prick bursting, and as I thought with piss so proud, that nothing could prevent the jet. When up her cunt I tried to piss, but my prick began to throb, and her cunt, as I thought, to squeeze it, altho she declared it was quiet. I strained till I farted like a cow after beans, but not a drop would come. — The more I strained, the more difficult I found it to restrain myself from oscillating my buttocks for an outshoot of spunk.
  8. From the book "My Secret Life" published in the 1890's. Here we find "walter" in France at a large railway station rest room where he's spying on women through a hole in his cubicle:
  9. Hey everyone! Would love to hear your golden shower stories! Let's hear how you gave someone a nice warm piss shower, or took someone's lovely golden rain! I've had lots of experience with both, mostly escorts, but some girls off of Tinder too. I'll start with one. An escort (who's actually a porn star now, private msg me if you want to find out who!) I met up with on Boxing Day a couple years back. We agreed on price including pissing on each other. She said she was experienced in golden showers as well, and i could piss in her mouth as long as it was diluted. So I drank two or three beers before I headed over to her apartment, and was pretty much bursting as i walked in the door. She welcomed me in, and after paying, got naked and started sucking my cock. As she was sucking it out and i was ready to burst, I told her to lay back on her bed, which had a couple extra blankets on it. As soon as she laid down, I released my piss stream all over her stomach, then started moving up and down and side to side all over her tits, as she started to rub it all in and moan. I told her to close her eyes and open her mouth, and as she obliged, moved my piss stream right into her mouth. Once her mouth was full, she spit it out over her already drenched body. Then I pointed my cock up to arc a nice stream, and began to soak her face and hair. She scrunched up her face a bit, but took it well. Now her pillows and sheets are soaked, she hasn't peed yet, and I'm not even done! I decided to give her a break from the pee bath I was giving, and laid down where she was in the piss puddle, and told her to start sucking my dick again. As she was going up and down, i asked if I could pee in her mouth while she was doing it, and again agreed. So I filled up her mouth again with my cock in it, and she spit it out over my body. With her mouth open and me laying flat, I sprayed my golden juice up into her awaiting mouth, as she shook my cock and sprayed the piss all over. After i had drained my bladder, I begged her to stand up over my face and release the golden rain she had been holding back this whole time. Out came a stream of delicious piss that was mostly clear and didn't taste bad at all. I filled my mouth and spit it out, then took a little and swallowed it just to try (not as bad as I thought!). I started to shake my face and head in the stream to make sure it all got covered. Once the smell and taste of her piss was all around me, I told her to move down and start watering my rock hard cock. She finished off her bladder moving her hips in a circle drenching my stiff rod while I jerked the hell out of it. When she finished, I told her to sit on that cock and ride the fuck out of it. She obeyed, and we slammed our piss soaked bodies together until I pulled and and blew a massive load straight up and hit some of her tits, but mostly covered me! After, I gathered my things and had a nice long drive home thiking about the super hot piss sesh, so much I had to jerk off while I was driving home!
  10. Anyone else ever pee on them selves ? Here it Comes Really Had to Go Full Stream Almost Finished
  11. The ladies always have such long queues for the toilets, when you're desperate the men's will have to do
  12. (This is a newly written story which I’ve shared elsewhere too. Jonah Falcon is an American actor, perhaps best known for owning the world’s biggest functioning penis. Nine and a half inches long flaccid and thirteen and a half fully erect, with a girth of some eight inches, it is an impressive organ. Since coming to public attention in a big way in 1999, Jonah has undertaken numerous radio, television and online magazine interviews. Those interviews have, for entirely understandable reasons, focused in large measure on his sexual prowess and the challenges as well as opportunities which go with having a large penis in the bedroom. To the best of my knowledge Jonah has shared little of the urological implications of having such a large penis beyond the fact that he doesn’t use urinals and sits to pee when he has to. That is his right and prerogative. It has a flip side though to the extent that those who have an interest in the urological side will, in the absence of authoritative information, join up the dots in whatever way stacks up or makes sense to them. What follows is entirely a work of fiction although it contains some elements which have a basis in fact (no prizes for spotting them) a great deal of conjecture and a splash or two of ‘make believe.’ At present I don’t know whether or not any sequels will follow, but I hope you enjoy it.) Jonah Falcon jumped into the shower and, as soon as the water hit him, he began peeing, lashings of rich, copper coloured pee pouring out of his huge, thick cock, foaming as it hit the cubicle floor and mingling with shower water and the soapy lather generated by the gel as he generously rubbed himself with it. Ah what blessed relief it was too! That sheer relief was well justified because the last time he’d emptied his bladder had been eleven hours earlier, some three hours before adjourning to bed. Unlike the miserable, dutiful wees taken by a million or two other New Yorkers at this time of the morning for no better reason than that they didn’t want to get taken short on the Metro or in some broken office elevator, he was doing it simply because he needed and wanted to. Gradually the torrent pouring out of his penis subsided to a trickle and eventually stopped. It had been two minutes of utter bliss and he was sorry once it finally came to an end. Finishing his shower off, Jonah stepped out of the cubicle and towelled off. This morning he was in a reflective mood and, as he reached for his T-shirt and spandex pants, Jonah considered just how lucky he was to be a young, single man, free to pee as and when he wanted. Jonah’s rather chaotic upbringing meant that he’d missed out on the sort of systematic toilet training that was the lot, one could almost say the misfortune, of many people. No one had ever insisted that he go pee last thing before bed at night or first thing in the morning and he’d never been punished or scolded for a wet bed. As for the question of peeing before long journeys, it had always been left for him to decide. If he wanted to go he did, if he didn’t he didn’t. This carefree approach wasn’t without its hazards and, even now at twenty, there might be the very occasional pair of soaked pants or wet bed, but such incidents were certainly not frequent – or at the very least rare enough to cause him no great concern. Always a bit pee shy in public and certainly never one for urinals, Jonah had rather developed a habit of holding it. Living in New York maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing as genuine public bathrooms, that is ones not attached to bars, eateries or bookshops, were few and far between. Of the ones that existed, some were so bad that he regarded holding it as infinitely preferable to using them. If it would have done his employment prospects any good, Jonah could quite truthfully have put on his CV that he’d never needed a hall pass and, in fact, never even gone to the toilet at High School. Instead, he’d hold it all day, even on those cold winter mornings which challenged most people’s bladders. On more occasions than a few he was acutely aware of the chill air as it blew through his shorts on the games field, mercilessly tormenting both penis and bladder. Back home for three, he’d often still not pee until four or five. After all, a growing young man had other things to do with his penis during that first hour or two of afternoon leisure in his bedroom. Even when he stayed on to play basketball he’d change and go out to play without peeing, still making it through the game and somehow just lasting until he got home. Leon, his friend and a fellow basketball player, also frequently played on a full bladder but often wasn’t so lucky, soaking his shorts uncontrollably more times than a few. Things came to a head for Jonah when he was 18 and in his last year at school. One day some so called ‘mates’ bet him that he couldn’t drink four bottles of Diet Coke (2 litres in total) during the lunch recess and make it through the afternoon without peeing. In the event he had the last laugh, manfully holding all afternoon whilst they frantically dashed for the bathrooms between lessons. On that particular afternoon he did make a dash for the bathroom as soon as he got home, hot pee spurting into his pants before he could get them down. By the time he left school, Jonah’s holding abilities although not widely known, were certainly noticed by some, Jonah regretfully noting that they tended to be people who took what he regarded as a ‘dirty’ interest in such things. At that stage he was getting noticed far more widely, less for his pee holding abilities than the size of his cock which was considerable and produced a pronounced bulge in his pants wherever he went. In fact, the temptation to go out in pants which were a size or so too small for him, was sometimes more than he could resist. A further additional but unintended consequence of wearing flyless pants a size or two too small was that they meant bathroom visits were an even greater hassle than would otherwise be the case, so they incentivised pee holding even more. Girls naturally took an interest in him, although it was obvious that more often than not his cock was the main attraction. There were a few short relationships, some sex – some better than others, and some casual stands. Some girls were quite up for having a cock his size in their pussies. Others, initially enthusiastic, lost their enthusiasm as soon as he dropped his pants and they saw just how big it was. One girlfriend, Susan, had absolutely no fear of his cock and was more than up for it. What she did fear, though, was his bladder. It came as something of a shock to Jonah when she demanded that he had to pee before getting into bed with her. Being told he ‘had’ to pee was unchartered territory for Jonah and he resented it, particularly as he didn’t need to go at the time. His pleas of “But I don’t need to go” and “But I only went two hours ago” fell on deaf ears. Susan was quite implacable. Standing in Susan’s bathroom that first evening, Jonah felt an overwhelming sense of despair and gloom. He neither wanted nor needed to use the toilet. It was ten o’clock at night. Why the fuck would he want to pee at such an hour? Standing, in the vain hope of making some audible noise, he’d be lucky to pass a dessertspoonful of urine. Sitting, his preferred – indeed normal - posture and the one acknowledged by medical experts to be most efficient for emptying the male bladder, it might stretch to a tablespoonful – 15ml or so. With a urethra as long as his, and bladder so well practised at holding, neither was worth the effort. Frustrated by the sheer futility of attempting to give Susan the peace of mind she craved, Jonah spotted a plastic tumbler lurking behind the sink. Filling it as quietly as he could from the hot tap, Jonah them emptied the warm water slowly into the toilet to imitate a peeing sound, taking care to hold his cock so that the tip of his penis, particularly the meatus/ pee hole area was thoroughly soaked. Carefully replacing the beaker, Jonah flushed the toilet and washed his hands. As he climbed into bed with Susan, the end of his penis still wet with the warm water, he felt a quiet sense of satisfaction. He repeated this exercise every night he slept with Susan over the next four weeks. So far as she was concerned he’d done the wee she wanted him to and he got the sex he wanted too. It was only a small deceit and the wetness at the end of his penis each night surely convinced her that he’d peed. Doing a pretend wee in exchange for real sex, he felt that he’d really got the better side of the bargain. One night he went into the bathroom and there was no tumbler. Still convinced he could pull it off, Jonah quietly wet the end of his penis with warm water, taking the same meticulous care as usual, flushed the toilet and washed his hands. As he walked into the bedroom the wetness at the end of his penis glistened in the light. Susan peered up at him from above the duvet, a slightly accusing look in her eyes. “Jonah, you haven’t peed, have you? I didn’t hear you pee for a start.” Put on the spot, Jonah blushed slightly, but hoped he could somehow still get away with his little bit of play acting. “Yes, I have Susan, look. If you don’t believe me have a feel.” Susan reached out and felt the end of his cock. “That’s not pee. Jonah, as well you know. It’s water.” “Well there’s water in the bathroom – rather a lot of it in fact. Maybe it got splashed a bit when I was washing.” Susan’s patience all but deserted her. “Stop digging, Jonah. You were rumbled a fortnight ago. The bathroom door has got a keyhole you know. Very clever that trick with the tumbler. I decided to let you have the benefit of the doubt before removing it and see if you’d still try to trick me into believing you’d peed.” Jonah held his face in his hands. His little game, innocent enough and designed to meet both their needs, was up. “Look I’m really, really sorry, Susan. You’ve every right to be angry but I didn’t set out to deceive you for the sake of it. Look, I’ll tell it as it is. Nowadays, depending on what I’m doing I get to pee sometime between five and seven in an evening, by which time I’ve held for ten to twelve hours. I meet you at eight when you finish work and we get something to eat. We’re back here for nine thirty and you want to fuck at ten. There’s no way I can pee a meaningful amount so soon after the last one.” Susan gave him a hard look. “Most men can.” Jonah found himself on the defensive. “Well I’m not most men. Most men can’t hold the way I do. Look, if you want proof, here it is.” Jonah pointed his penis at Susan and strained. A teaspoon full of pee flew out of his penis and landed on the duvet before a second hit Susan in the right eye. “Oi. Stop that!” “Well you wanted proof and now you’ve got it. That’s how much pee you’ll get out of me three hours after I’ve been.” Susan wiped the pee out of her eye. “Okay Jonah. Point taken. Look you can have one last fuck tonight having proved you can pee after all. I think we should go our separate ways tomorrow though. Look, it’s not your fault, it’s me. I need a guy who can pee properly before sex.” “Why? If a guy’s hard he’s not going to piss in you.” Susan shook her head. “Jonah, you’ve not been around as long as I have. Take it from a woman – an older woman – that some of them can and do. I just need that bit of reassurance and if that means getting him to drain his main vein before business that’s the way it has to be. Look, come here. I’m not really cross – just disappointed. You’re a bloody good actor though. Why don’t you enrol at drama school?” Returning to the present, Jonah made his way into the kitchen and poured himself a large mug of milky coffee. It was a two-pint mug, one a friend had given him for Christmas. It was six months since he’d finished with Susan but he’d taken her advice and enrolled at drama school. It wasn’t so bad either. There were plenty of fit birds there and his package gained him a fair bit of attention. He’d always been interested in acting but Susan’s words had given him the final push he’d wanted. Furthermore, this afternoon they were doing some filming which included a pee scene and he’d been picked on, he guessed on account of his cock, to play the part of the guy who peed. He’d never peed for the camera before and hoped it would not only be a first but a last. No doubt there would be countless retakes with the director endlessly shouting “Cut.” Finishing his coffee, Jonah filled his water bottle and put it in his rucksack. Water was great for maintaining hydration but it was pretty useless as a diuretic – at least in his experience. No doubt he’d have an extra-large Starbucks at lunchtime and pick up a few cans of that new energy drink. He wanted to perform on cue, after all. THE END
  13. I love seeing a long powerful stream. here's some examples, feel free to add your favorites!
  14. (This is a newly written story which I’ve shared elsewhere too and is part of an ongoing series. I hope you enjoy it.) Archie woke up feeling a little groggy and rubbed his eyes. Anne, his wife was already awake by his side and listening to the Radio 4 news. Turning to him, she greeted him with a tender kiss. “Morning sleepy head!” “Morning darling. What day is it? My brain isn’t quite in gear just yet.” Anne gave him another kiss on the lips. “It’s okay Archie. It’s Monday – our day off.” “Hmm. You mean our morning off more like. No doubt you’ll be shooting off to Drydale straight after lunch and that’ll be the last I’ll see of you until Friday teatime.” Anne gently ruffled her husband’s hair. “Archie that’s not fair and you know it’s not true. We’ve had every Monday together since the end of July and you’ve got me all day today. Okay, the autumn courses start next week but all I’ve got to do this week is go over on Thursday and Friday with Sarah to make sure everything’s ready for next week’s intake. It’s not until next Monday that I’ll disappear after lunch.” “Can’t you change things so that the ‘Holding for Life’ courses don’t start until the Tuesday morning or something? This is our weekend – such as it is – for goodness sake.” Anne gave him a sympathetic look. “I’ve discussed doing that with Sarah and it would only work if we had a group of fairly local service users who only had to commute an hour – or two at most to get to us. Furthermore, we give our service users quite a lot of information at the Monday afternoon induction sessions and we think doing it on Tuesday morning then launching straight into the course might overwhelm them somewhat.” “I see. Are they all local commuters next week, by any chance?” “No. Sadly not. We have one local guy but there are at least two girls travelling up from London. We’ve also got a guy flying over from LA who avoids public toilets (or bathrooms as they call them over there) if he can and most likely won’t have peed for 17 or 18 hours by the time he gets to us. He’ll be frantic, although probably doing his best not to show it, and I want to get him through induction without him pissing his pants. It was bad enough when he was only 12 hours away from his apartment. He’s got a whopper of a cock and when he does piss it’s like Niagara Falls – it just comes out like an unstoppable torrent.” Archie cast his wife an anxious look. “Anne, can you change the subject?” “Why?” “All this talk of long holds and pissing is making me want to piss.” “Archie, you don’t want to piss – or at least you shouldn’t. You got up at least twice in the night to my certain knowledge. You shouldn’t need to go again, slack bladder. I’ve not been for ten hours and I’m fine.” “Okay camel bladder. Well I’m going for a piss.” “No Archie, you’re not. Come here. I’m feeling randy and I want your thick hard cock in my pussy.” “But I’ll piss…” “But nothing. Come here. Look you can piss inside me if you need to go that badly. I want your cock here and now while you’ve still got early morning wood.” “But I’ll wet the bed?” “Ssh. It doesn’t matter – honestly. We’ll make a mess anyway and what do you think the mattress protector’s for? Look we can take a shower together afterwards but if you end up giving me a golden shower in the meantime it’s really no problem.” With that, Archie finally relented, took Anne in his arms, slipped his hard cock into her pussy and began pounding. Within minutes he found himself cumming as she screamed with sheer pleasure. Although Archie’s erection subsided he had no immediate desire to withdraw. His bladder and cock still ached with the pent up pee inside him. Relaxing he started pissing and Anne gasped with pleasure as he released the warm salty liquid into her. He felt it run out of her and on to the bed but she wasn’t fazed and, though it surprised him, neither was he. This was an experience which for him, at least, rewrote all the rules about urination. He recalled his shock, all those years ago when at the Bishop’s selection conference for ordinands he’d been asked the rather impertinent question, “Do you wet the bed?” His resolute “Certainly not” wasn’t quite the whole truth because even at 21 he wasn’t reliably a hundred percent dry at night. Finding a girlfriend who was training to be a nurse with a specialist interest in urology who understood and didn’t mind had been a real stroke of luck. Now as his wife, so many years later, she was actively encouraging to pee in bed. This was amazing. At length, Archie withdrew and kissed his wife. “That was amazing my darling.” Anne playfully ruffled his hair, just as she’d done earlier. “Come on my darling. We’re going for a shower. Now I’ll show you what a real pee’s like!” THE END
  15. So I thought I would change the lottery from the old style and make it different every time unless you all really want me to do the old way or a different way! So this time if you want to enter all you have to do is write what you want me to do related to pee. At the end of the lottery I will randomly choose one reply and do whatever Ithat reply contained! As long as it's not going to publically humiliate me or get me in jail I will do it. It can be as simple as get super desperate and pee yourself or climb a tree and pee from the tallest branch or it could be something like seran wrap your entire lower body and pee xD. Get creative! I'm going to leave this thread open for longer than the past lotteries to give you all some time to think of ideas! Be sure to enter and I'm excited to see what you guys write! I love you all so much!! -Riley
  16. (This is a new story which I've also posted elsewhere. If you've not already come across it I hope you'll enjoy it. All constructive feedback is welcome.) Anne Glenson made her way through the sliding doors to reception and the receptionist, a girl of about twenty busily engaged in the important business of painting her nails, looked up. "Can I help you, madam?" "Yes, I've come to see Mr Faulkner. It's Mrs Glenson - Anne Glenson - by the way." "I'll just see if he's free." Picking up the phone, the girl continued, "Mike, I've a got a Mrs Glenson to see you. Can I send her through?" Anne heard what she thought sounded faintly like a muffled groan followed by "Send her through." The girl looked up. "Yes. Mr Faulkner's free to see you. He's through the door on the right there, just down the corridor." "Thank you." Anne knocked loudly on the door. "Come in!" Mike Faulkner got up from his desk and extended a slightly clammy hand in welcome. "Good afternoon - Mrs Glenson I believe. Do take a seat. Can I get Tracy to bring you some tea or coffee?" Anne sat down. "No thank you. I've got some water on me. It's far better for maintaining hydration. Anyhow, I'm sure you must be busy Mr Faulkner, so I'll cut to the chase and get straight to the point. I've come about the grant application which my colleague and I submitted some time ago. Has your committee had time to consider it?" Mr Faulkner reached for a file. "Ah yes, the application from Holding for Life. I see you're listed as one of the directors, along with a Miss Sarah Worthington." "Yes that's correct." "I just need to check a few personal details with you if that's alright Mrs Glenson?" "Yes of course." "Full name." "Anne Maureen Elizabeth Glenson." "Date of birth." "10th April 1975." "Marital situation?" "Married." "And your address?" "The Rectory, Church Lane, Browndale." Mr Faulkner beamed. "Oh, lucky you. I wish I lived in a splendid old rectory. The ones I see advertised in Country World are such glorious old piles." Anne frowned. "Mr Faulkner, it's a glorious old Georgian rectory. It's a brutally functional 1960s rectory - the meanest and cheapest the diocese could come up with too. Strange though it may seem my husband, Fr Archie Glenson, just happens to be the rector." "I'm sorry Mrs Glenson. It was an honest mistake on my part - I just assumed..." "You're not the first and I doubt you'll be the last. Now if we could please focus on my grant application as I haven't got all evening. My husband needs me to serve at Benediction at six thirty, after which I've got to do my domestic goddess bit and prepare supper for the deanery synod." "Yes of course, Mrs Glenson. A couple of committee members raised slight concerns about what you do at Holding for Life. They seemed to think there was some slightly - how shall I put it - kinky stuff - going off there." Anne intentionally crossed and re-crossed her legs. Not for nothing had she decided to don a slightly tight pair or jeans for this interview. She needed to pee pretty badly, having not released her bladder for over nine hours, but certainly wasn't desperately uncomfortable by any means. "Such as?" "Well it's rumoured that you make your clients - or is it service users - hold their pee in all day at your courses. Is that correct?" Anne crossed her legs yet again, not because she had to but for effect. "Mr Faulkner, Miss Worthington and I are both highly qualified urology nurses who maintain current registrations. We both hold current DBS clearances and have all the required safeguarding certificates. With regard to the first point, we are caring, compassionate, professional people. We certainly do not force our service users to hold their pee all day. Yes, there are some toilet restrictions and for good reason, but much of the work we do with clients as you call them, involves Kegel exercises which are about strengthening sphincter muscles by peeing in a controlled way. Our courses are designed to empower people and give them options so that they don't have to panic and think about tracking down a toilet as soon as the need to pee arises. My colleagues and I certainly don't demand anything from our service users of which we ourselves are not more than capable." "I'm sure you don't, Mrs Glenson. I have heard a rumour though that you make some use of humiliation on your courses. Is that correct?" Anne coughed, gave Mr Faulkner a slightly disdainful look, and took a swig from her water bottle. Noticing that Mike Faulkner's right hand had slipped beneath his desk and he'd begun to stroke himself, she couldn't resist crossing and re-crossing her legs yet again. "Mr Faulkner, many - though not all - of our service users are high profile people. Not unnaturally some of them present with challenging attitudes and at any one time we have service users who regard our courses as jolly japes. If they are to derive a long-term positive benefit from coming on our courses, such attitudes have to be countered robustly and, if we have to wipe smirks off a few faces, so be it. We do not take people on our courses who are medically incontinent but we rely on service users to be honest with us about any ongoing health conditions, including bedwetting. If a service user hasn't been honest with us and if they don't abide by the rules of the course they are required to account for it. That's why all beds are checked by matron every morning and we have adjudication in a group setting after breakfast. By the way, we have a zero-tolerance policy on masturbation, Mr Faulkner! Having worked extensively in urology, Sarah and I have seen more than enough of its unhelpful and counter-productive effects." Mr Faulkner quickly withdrew his hand from his crotch area. "Quite Mrs Glenson. Now turning to your grant application, I see that you applied for fifty five thousand pounds towards the repair of a gymnasium roof." "That's correct. My colleague and I have both sunk a lot of our own money into the venture but, even taking into account income from service users, we're stretched to find money for re-roofing the old gymnasium to a standard which will keep it watertight for the next 20 years. Our premises are based in an old secondary modern school which County Hall wanted to dispose of cheaply and you could say that fabric was an ongoing challenge." "Hmm. As a matter of interest, what do you charge your service users?" "Usually two thousand pounds. That covers an intensive weekday course with induction on a Monday afternoon followed by three and a half days of serious work followed by the award of certificates after lunch on a Friday." "I see. Have you thought of increasing your fees?" "We keep them under review but we think two thousand is a fair fee to charge most users at present. Part of it goes towards a bursary fund for service users who would benefit from attending a Holding for Life course but cannot afford to pay or require some level of subsidy." Mr Faulkner nodded. "I see, Mrs Glenson. Clearly your operation is run in a responsible way. Despite the reservations expressed by some committee members we are happy to award you fifty thousand." "Only fifty? We asked for fifty five." "I know, but that's our decision and we must abide by it. Mrs Glenson, I hope it's not an impertinence but I've noticed you crossing your legs and moving about quite a bit. You don't need to pee by any chance?" Anne smiled. "No more than anyone else who hasn't peed since seven this morning! Don't worry, I need to go but it's not an emergency." Mr Faulkner could barely contain himself. "Mrs Glenson, you must be bursting. I know it's a big ask but I've never seen a lady pee. Would you be willing to pee for me? I keep a container - an empty pickle jar - in here just in case of emergencies. Here it is. One of the joys of working in offices shared with other organisations is that the loo's always occupied." Anne smiled broadly. "I'd be more than happy to oblige Mr Faulkner." Anne, deftly removed her dark blue stone washed jeans and, leaving her white maxi panties on, squatted over the pickle jar. She peed a little hesitantly at first but her stream soon became a strong one and Mike Faulkner watched, amazed, as she completely filled the litre sized jar, almost overflowing it. Although in middle age they occurred less readily than as a young man, he found himself developing an erection of a kind he'd not experienced for at least a decade. Without the aid of any kind of manual stimulation, he found himself ejaculating uncontrollably into his underpants, an experience he'd not met with since his twenties. Anne finished as abruptly as she started, got up and handed the jar to him. Carefully removing her pee stained panties she tossed them in his direction before slipping back into her jeans and zipping them up with the same ease that she'd removed them. "You may as well keep those knickers as a little souvenir, Mr Faulkner. I'm sure you'll find a use for them. By the way, I look forward to receiving the cheque for sixty thousand by Tuesday's post at the latest." Mr Faulkner looked bemused. "Sixty thousand? I thought we'd settled on fifty." A broad grin crossed Anne's face. "My dear Mr Faulkner, we settled on nothing. I applied for fifty five thousand and you offered me fifty. Now I'm sure you wouldn't like your interest in women peeing to become public knowledge, would you? It would be so embarrassing, wouldn't it, especially for a charity trustee?" Mr Faulkner went pale. "You're not try to blackmail me, Mrs Glenson, are you?" "No of course not. That's such a horrible word, don't you think? Let's just call it incentivising discretion, shall we? That extra ten thousand will fund five places for services users who wouldn't otherwise be able to attend. Look, if it makes a bitter pill any sweeter, I'm willing to offer you a free place on one of our courses." Mike Faulkner knew he wasn't going to get out of this one easily. How could he have been so foolish as to walk into such a trap? "Mrs Glenson, I'll speak to the committee and see what I can do. Thanks for the offer of a place on one of your courses but I'm not sure whether it's really me." Anne smiled. "Sixty thousand by Tuesday's post, Mr Faulkner. You can send it to the rectory by courier or one of the signed for delivery services if you like. Anyhow, I must get a move on or Archie will wonder where I am. It's a pleasure doing business with you." With that, she turned and took her leave. Two hours later, Mike Faulkner pushed the door of Browndale Church open. The air was thick with a haze of incense, making him cough. As he struggled to get his bearings he was greeted by a genial priest in a long, Roman-style cassock, who'd been making his way towards the door. "Good evening, sir. If it's Benediction you've come for, I'm afraid we finished five minutes ago." Mike Faulkner coughed again. The incense was really affecting his throat. "No I've not come for the service. Are you Fr Archie by any chance?" "Yes. How can I help you?" "Fr Archie, it's really your wife that I was hoping to see - on an item of business." Fr Archie chuckled. "Well the last time I saw her she was in the vestry, just by the tower arch there, although she may have taken the thurible outside to empty. Got to return the contents to their native earth you know." Mike cleared his throat. "Thanks Father. This doesn't seem like normal C of E though." Fr Archie laughed. "We don't do normal Cof E here and, as for my wife, she's certainly not normal! Ah, speak of the wife, here she is. "Anne, there's a gentleman here to see you. I'll leave you two in peace. Remember to lock up when you've finished and don't forget the deanery synod supper at eight, darling." Anne beamed at her husband as he took his leave. "How could I forget darling? Praise God for supermarket cocktail sausages, ready made dips and mini scotch eggs." Leading Mike into the vestry, Anne eased the girdle from her waist and, with the slick effortlessness he'd seen earlier, removed her server's alb to reveal the same top and jeans that she'd worn earlier in his office. Turning to him, she gave Mike a smile he'd earlier learned to mistrust. "Well this a surprise. To what do we owe the pleasure?" "It's about our discussion earlier..." "I hope you haven't come to tell me that the sixty thousand isn't going to be forthcoming." "No not at all. I doubt the committee will agree to more than fifty but I can find the remaining ten thousand out of my own pocket. After all, I think it's a price worth paying in view of the alternative." "Good. I'm so glad we understand one another, Mr Faulkner. Was there anything else?" "Yes, it's about your kind offer of a free place on one of your courses. I've been thinking and I'd like to take it up." Anne hugged him and the smell of the incense which clung to her clothes, nearly caused him to pass out. "Splendid! You won't regret it. As it happens I have a place available for the course starting Monday 1st October. If I get my sixty thousand by Tuesday I'll email or post you all the details including the medical form and the disclaimer which we ask all service users to complete and sign. By the way, I think we can afford to drop the formalities. From now on you can call me Anne if I can call you Mike." "I'm happy with that. Good night Mrs Glenson - I mean Anne." "Good night Mike! Look forward to seeing you on the 1st October." Mike walked out into the gathering gloom of the September evening sky, not quite knowing what he'd let himself in for but hoping that it wouldn't be too bad. THE END
  17. This Girl Gets Soaked
  18. theres tons of hot vids here huge collection probably never seen b4
  19. Pre Soaking My laundry before it went in the Wash
  20. Actual pee sightings reports, some with pee puddle pictures, well written and full of detail of women caught pissing iin alleys and car parks in the USA.
  21. This happened when I was a teenager my mom was drunk and we were talking in the kitchen when all of a sudden right there in front of me mom just started to pee standing right next to me and she just looked at me like nothing was happening or wrong with what was going on. I just watched as the pee ran down her legs and made a huge puddle on the kitchen floor. When Mom stopped peeing she walked to the kitchen sink pulled up her dress then pulled down her panties right in front of me and I could clearly see her pubic hair and the slit between her legs. Then Mom pulled the dress over her head and throw everything in the kitchen sink. See was standing there in front of me with only her bra on. She never said anything or seemed ashamed about it. Then she walked to the bathroom taking off her bra and filled the tub with water. As the bathtub was filling Mom came back to the kitchen and poured herself another drink. I couldn't believe she was completely naked right there in front of me in the kitchen. I say Mom you need to go get cleaned up and take a bath. That's when she looked at me and realize she was totally naked in front of her young son in the kitchen. She took the drink and went to the bathroom. I was embarrassed about what I just saw happening but all I could think about was how she looked nude.
  22. http://www.eroprofile.com/m/videos/view/Bottle-Piss
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