Excursion to the Desert Palace

[rann 686]

This one is a little different from the over-the-top Nina and Katie series. I am sorry, but I took a short break from it after I lost my work in a hard drive failure. Rest assured, those two girls will be coming back. For now, I was inspired to write something different. I hope you like it!
(This story takes place at a fictional setting in a real-world country, and asserts no opinions regarding it or its people.

---

(This story takes place at a fictional setting in a real-world country, and asserts no opinions regarding it or its people.)

With my journey at an end, I cannot help but marvel at all that I have experienced over the last couple months. As I sit here waiting for my flight back home, I sift through my previous entries in this journal to consolidate all that I have learned about the history of Morocco. Weeks of cultural immersion have painted my understanding of the country and its anthropology. Yet, all the culture... all the architecture... the majesty of it all gets far eclipsed by what I witnessed on a mere tourist excursion to the desert.

Joining a tour group is not the purest form of exploring a country's history, as such activities quite often exaggerate facts to impress tourists into buying trinkets and souvenirs. Still, I had opted to join one towards the end of my trip simply to take a step back in an attempt to view the country as an outsider one last time before my departure. Somewhat disappointingly, the excursion met my expectations of a stereotypical tour marketed to those from Western countries; within the small developing country of Morocco, I found myself inside a loud tour bus full of English-speaking Americans and Europeans complaining about the bumpy drive through the sweltering desert. Although I had been excited to see the historically preserved desert palace that the tour had promised to showcase, I was beginning to wonder if it would even be worth it.

When the bus finally reached its destination, it was quite a relief to finally stretch my legs. The drive had been nearly 3 hours to the remote desert palace, and since we had all been careful to keep hydrated in the arid climate, I opted to use the restroom aboard the bus before stepping out to explore. Tourists aside, the actual guide for our trip was quite kind and allowed us to spend our time exploring the area however we wanted, just as long as we met at the front gate at 1:30 pm.

I have to admit, the "palace" was a lot smaller than I had expected. Although the entrance hall was certainly a sight to see, most of the stone walls were either crumbling or collapsed altogether. Somewhat irritatingly, the rooms that did appear to be better preserved were roped off to disallow any visitors from entering. Given the damaged architecture across most of the palace, the elements had entered unobstructed and proceeded to sweep sand and debris all over the insides of most of the building. Certainly the palace must have once been a grand spectacle, but the local government clearly had not funded the preservation efforts properly.

Still, I was one of the few that tried to make the most of it. Although most decided to just sulk in the few scraps of shade offered by the front gate, I explored the accessible areas of the palace carefully and tried to imagine what life may have been like when it wasn't a dusty cluster of ruins. The 50C heat was killer however, and I found myself running back to the bus numerous times to relieve myself simply due to the amount of water I gulped down to stay hydrated. After returning from one such diversion, someone caught my eye through one of the many holes in the palace exterior.

I had seen her earlier on the bus -- inside the palace was a girl examining one of the pillars in the hall. The slender girl had to have been no older than her late twenties, and wore her dirty-blonde hair tied back into a single braid. Like most of the tour group, she had dressed herself for the heat and was sporting a small cami crop tank and a pair of athletic shorts, minimizing the amount of fabric covering her skin to stay cool. Cosmetics aside, I was quite excited--! She was the first person apart from myself who I had seen to take any sort of interest in the architecture and I hastened to catch up with her so that I could hear her thoughts.

Alas, whatever she may have been pondering must have been brief as she quickly resumed meandering through the hallway, carefully eyeing the walls up and down. Just as I neared her however, I suddenly saw the girl stop and furtively glance at her surroundings. Then, to my surprise, I watched as she gingerly stepped over the rope forbidding entry to the restricted portion of the palace. Shocked at the girl's audacity, I stood there dumbfounded as her figure disappeared around a corner. Certainly the area had to be roped off for a reason -- her mere presence could cause damage to fragile historical structures!

I calmed myself, however. Perhaps she was simply passionate; her curiosity couldn't bear not to intrude upon the sanctity of the preserved chambers. What she was doing was wrong, but I would be lying if I didn't share in her curiosity. I didn't want to startle her however, and quietly stepped into the restricted area with only the intent to watch what she would be doing -- I could probably ask her about her experiences later.

"Surely a peek wouldn't hurt," I thought to myself as I peered around the corner.

My first impression was that the room was quite a bit smaller than I had thought -- and as a result I quickly shrunk back behind the wall. The girl had been standing only a couple feet away from me and I cursed myself at my lack of caution. As I quietly regained composure to once again slowly peek into the room, my second impression of the room truly allowed me to admire its magnificence; in stark contrast to the rest of the palace, this room glistened with ancient beauty. The intricate, blue and white geometric tiles that were so prevalent during the time period adorned the floor with dazzling splendor. The stone walls too appeared polished and uneroded, artfully complimenting the colors of the floor. So moved was I by the unexpected spectacle that I caught myself thanking fortune over and over for the privilege of being able to witness it.

I then directed my attention to the girl and imagined how she must be feeling similarly humbled to stand amidst such majesty. However, she was standing with her back to me, and as I looked at her figure, I couldn't help but notice that her outfit was decidedly immodest by Moroccan standards -- or even the standards held by middle-aged women in Western countries. Not only did her nearly skintight tank expose a large portion of her midriff, her shorts were rather tiny as well and somewhat prominently bared the base of her buttocks in plain view. Distracted by my mind wandering, I then had to stifle a gasp.

For reasons that I could not yet comprehend, the girl had begun to slide down her shorts.

Her tight, shapely posterior was accentuated by a tiny pink t-string wedged between her cheeks, and after stretching for a moment, the girl tugged it off as well. To me, the implications were staggering -- here this girl stood in a religiously conservative country, within a sacred undisturbed chamber celebrating such culture, and she had the gall to casually expose her genitals as if in mockery of the room's sanctity. And yet, it hadn't even dawned on me why she had decided to stand semi-nude until I saw the pose she adopted: the girl arched her back slightly and shifted into a high squat.

She was going to urinate here of all places!

Alarm bells rang in my head, and as if to confirm my panicked conclusion, I watched as her nethers suddenly jet forth a spray of urine that messily splattered onto the tile below. However, the sound must have startled the girl as she had quickly clamped off the start of her relief to freeze up like a statue. As she stood there in silence, I noticed her glance down to look at what she had just done -- although she must have been drinking copious amounts of water like everyone else on the tour, her pee was a deep yellow color which, sadly, stood out when sprayed over the intricately tiled floor. Confronted with the repercussions of her brazen behavior, it was at this point where I had hoped that she would reconsider relieving herself over the historic structures, but alas she truly didn't seem to care.

The girl let out a sigh of relief and slinked over to a nearby wall to lean her back against it. As she stretched with both arms up in the air, she merely opened her legs a bit and began to piss again, hands-free. It was a relentless beam of dehydrated urine that was spraying across the floor. I watched, heartbroken, as the unsightly (and slightly acrid) yellow washed over the former splendor of the chamber.

It was clear to me now. The girl didn't care about the palace or its history. She didn't care enough to dress in a manner that would be respectful of the locals. She didn't care that she was exhibiting sexuality and depravity in a religiously conservative country. She was a spoiled brat who didn't care to make the short walk to the tour bus to properly relieve herself; she had purposely decided to piss over and vandalize a restricted historic room because it offered her privacy and was convenient to her. No other reason. No other concern for what she was destroying. She wanted to pee, so she had decided to pee. Anything else wasn't her problem.

As if to qualify my sullen thoughts, the girl's stream somehow strengthened in intensity as she slid down the wall, still hands-free, into a squat. She didn't even attempt to direct the flow of her urine with her hands -- she simply didn't care where her pee was going, and indeed, it was going all over the room. Her yellow piss puddle had unrepentantly spread over the entirety of the floor, and much of her pee had also splashed onto the walls as she had moved about. It didn't help either that she swayed her hips from side to side while relieving herself, splattering her piss every which way. When her stream finally slowed to a trickle, the room was already beginning to reek of fresh urine due to the desert heat.

As the girl stood up and dusted herself off, I swear that she must have caught a glimpse of my figure as she turned around and proceeded to once again arch her back in a high squat as if to moon me. Then, as if to add a couple more insults to injury, she squeezed out two more short squirts of pee onto the already thoroughly defiled floor and let out a self-satisfied "Ahhh!"

I was furious at her pleasure. She had zero respect for what she had just irreparably damaged, and was sighing in gleeful contentment after thoroughly relieving herself all over it. Seething, I quickly escaped to exit the restricted area and walked back to the front gates of the palace as the tour guide had requested. When the girl finally emerged from the palace to join the group, I fumed inwardly as I noticed her bright pink t-string unabashedly visible above the waist of her shorts, no doubt the result of hastily clothing herself after leaving her impromptu toilet.

As the tour guide began talking about the palace, I tried to calm myself by taking my mind off the bratty girl, but my efforts came to a screeching halt as the guide began to discuss the preciousness of the restricted areas in the palace; the historic, intricate tiled designs were created without any sort of varnish to protect the porous materials from which they were made. Since these were desert structures, when the palace had first been built, they had not accounted for moisture damage. Nevertheless, the Moroccan government would be allotting funds to apply glaze to these tiled artworks for preservation purposes "sometime next year," the guide proudly smiled.

And in the meantime, I thought to myself, the girl's selfish disregard for the rules would have one of the tiled rooms irrevocably damaged as her pee soaked into the porous tiles to permanently stain them. "She probably wasn't even listening to a word he said," I thought bitterly.

However, I was wrong.

Just as the guide had finished that last sentence, I happened to glance over to her. For the briefest of moments, I thought I caught a flash of a mischievous smile as she took another sip of water from her bottle. But perhaps more tellingly, I caught a glimpse of her shirt showcasing her true thoughts on the matter.

Straining the cloth stretched over them, her nipples were quite prominently erect.

[Lutab 1,052]

Great story. I'd love to hear more of it.

[nopjans 1,178]

I loved everything about this story. Wonderful work.

[Spectacle 215]

Hey! It's so great to see you writing again! I almost missed this. And as with the Nina and Katie series, it's a whole lot of fun. I haven't encountered anyone who handles naughty peeing quite like you do. Kudos, and I hope there's more to come from you, whatever it may be!

[miniskirtpisser 411]

I loved this story. I enjoyed fantasizing about the thorough defilement of the fictional historic landmark. I also somewhat adored the naïveté of the protagonist of this story. It’s amazing that they still don’t know that she is about to pee when she is exposing her pussy in such a way. What else would she do 😜😜?? I am not sure if it is intentional or not but I enjoyed the fact that you keep the the protagonist’s gender ambiguous. If feels easier to relate to them. 

By the way, if you don’t mind, may I know whether the protagonist choose to tattle about the girl peeing to the authority or the tour guide? Just curious. Feel free not to answer if you really want to keep it that way. 

Edited October 21, 2019 by miniskirtpisser

[rann 686]

On 10/21/2019 at 3:26 AM, miniskirtpisser said:

I loved this story. I enjoyed fantasizing about the thorough defilement of the fictional historic landmark. I also somewhat adored the naïveté of the protagonist of this story. It’s amazing that they still don’t know that she is about to pee when she is exposing her pussy in such a way. What else would she do 😜😜?? I am not sure if it is intentional or not but I enjoyed the fact that you keep the the protagonist’s gender ambiguous. If feels easier to relate to them. 

By the way, if you don’t mind, may I know whether the protagonist choose to tattle about the girl peeing to the authority or the tour guide? Just curious. Feel free not to answer if you really want to keep it that way. 

Yes! Sometimes I like keeping certain details ambiguous for exactly the reason you stated.

As for the protagonist, well, I like to think that they're love for history left them so dumbfounded as to what the girl was about to do that they weren't thinking straight; they could barely even fathom the idea of pissing on history until the girl was busy doing it ;)

I don't think the protagonist would tattle however -- I have a feeling that they are the sort to try and get some answers themselves, say, by observing further and/or confronting the girl

 

On another note, I am very happy you enjoyed it. Your stories were some of the ones that inspired me to try writing in the first place so I am kind of star-struck that you liked my writing.

Edited October 26, 2019 by rann

[miniskirtpisser 411]

On 10/26/2019 at 3:28 PM, rann said:

Yes! Sometimes I like keeping certain details ambiguous for exactly the reason you stated.

As for the protagonist, well, I like to think that they're love for history left them so dumbfounded as to what the girl was about to do that they weren't thinking straight; they could barely even fathom the idea of pissing on history until the girl was busy doing it 😉

I don't think the protagonist would tattle however -- I have a feeling that they are the sort to try and get some answers themselves, say, by observing further and/or confronting the girl

 

On another note, I am very happy you enjoyed it. Your stories were some of the ones that inspired me to try writing in the first place so I am kind of star-struck that you liked my writing.

Thank you very much for your explanation. I am hoping that you’d write more naughty peeing stories. I love the third person narrative of the story and the bewilderment of the protagonist. 

Thank you also for your kind words about my writings. I am glad that you enjoyed my story. 😊

 

[Robertw 21]

I love this story. Well written and exciting. 

[naught 28]

On 10/26/2019 at 6:28 AM, rann said:

Yes! Sometimes I like keeping certain details ambiguous for exactly the reason you stated.

As for the protagonist, well, I like to think that they're love for history left them so dumbfounded as to what the girl was about to do that they weren't thinking straight; they could barely even fathom the idea of pissing on history until the girl was busy doing it 😉

I don't think the protagonist would tattle however -- I have a feeling that they are the sort to try and get some answers themselves, say, by observing further and/or confronting the girl

 

On another note, I am very happy you enjoyed it. Your stories were some of the ones that inspired me to try writing in the first place so I am kind of star-struck that you liked my writing.

Will you ever continue this story? Would love it if you did!

 

[Lutab 1,052]

Id love to read more of it too