"Leah" Part 1. Real Origins: A long, Intimate Friendship. Introduction.

[Dr.P 1,474]

"Leah" Part 1. Real Origins: A Long, Intimate Friendship; Getting to Know Her.

By Dr.P

Summary: This is another of my "partly truth and partly fiction" stories, which has its origins in reality, described in Part 1, which traces the development of a very long and close friendship, between "Leah" and me, with a strong mutual attraction, and the sharing of intimate secrets, but there has been no actual peeing, yet. She does share one voyeuristic peeing incident, which happened to her, in her distant past, in Europe. This incident, as well as her openness, with me, about her bodily functions, contributed to my inspiration to write this story about her. "Leah" is a real person, but her name is fictitious.

The fictional part of this story, beginning in Part 2, is a very "wet" extended fantasy, involving several events, over a few days, and continues in subsequent parts, which may appeal to different tastes, identified in the titles and summaries. The posting of Part 2 follows Part 1, immediately. The subsequent parts will follow, later.

"Leah" and I met at work, in the early 1980's. At the time, she was a blond, Scandinavian beauty, actually born and raised in Europe, very well endowed in her upper body, with slim, sexy, athletic legs. We were very attracted to one another, immediately, but we were both married to other people, and we never actually became lovers, although we flirted a lot. We are both engineers, and we worked closely together, in industry, for 10 to 15 years, and even wrote technical papers together. Then we joined with her husband and some mutual friends, forming a start-up company, once we had retired, some 20 years ago. Her husband died recently, and she moved to a new location, a considerable distance away. The company has now been dissolved, but we share hopes of reviving it.

In one of our first flirtatious conversations, not long after we met, when we were drinking in a bar, at "happy hour," after work, she revealed an incident from her youth, growing up in Northern Europe, when the boys in her rural school, sneaked under the girls' toilet, actually an outhouse, and watched her pee. After telling me her story, she marveled at how easy it was for her to talk to me, and reveal such an intimate confidence. I asked her if she had ever told her husband about the incident, and she said no, she had not. I thanked her for her confidence in me, and assured her that she could tell me anything, without fear of my revealing her secrets. I wondered if she was squatting or sitting, when she peed, during this incident, but I didn't dare ask her, at that time, although I was sorely tempted.

We loved talking with each other, and soon became very close friends, jogging or walking together at lunch hour, to keep in shape. She had back problems, and she would often come into my lab, for me to massage her back, neck, and shoulders, while she sat in a chair, for twenty minutes or more, at a time. I offered to give her a full body massage, if she would lie on one of the large lab tables, but she declined.

We would always kiss and hug before and after "happy hour," usually on Fridays, in parking lots, outside of one or another of the bars where we all hung out, after work, when I walked her to or from her car. I was one of the few men that she felt comfortable walking with. On special occasions, like a holiday, or a birthday, her kisses were open-mouthed, and our tongues sometimes touched. Her hugs were almost always full body, from chest to legs, on any day. She was not at all shy about pressing her large, firm breasts hard against my chest, and holding me tight. I always looked forward to walking her to her car.

Contrary to urban legends and stereotypes of Northern Europeans, she was not reserved and distant, at all, but warm, affectionate, and almost a compulsive toucher and hugger. I hoped our activities would go further, but she would not allow it. But we still had many very intimate conversations. She had a tendency to get bladder infections, especially when she traveled, on business, and she always told me about them, in detail, from the very beginning of our friendship. I was a little surprised at her openness, on such a personal subject, but very pleased that she chose to share it with me.

I was deeply in lust with her, for several years, and fantasized repeatedly about how she peed, at home, and in public Ladies' rooms. Did she sit, squat, or stand? Legs apart or together? How did she do it outdoors? Did it hiss when she did it? She gave me few or no clues.

She was athletic, so her legs were strong, and she would have had no trouble squatting. She was always drinking bottled water, to stay hydrated, for her health, like many other women. But she didn't excuse herself to use the Ladies' room, very often, even when she had been drinking cocktails, at "happy hour." So she apparently had a large bladder, and her pee would be dilute, and long, when she did go.

Although we were close, for many years, I was never in a situation where I could listen to her pee, such as outside a bathroom door, in a quiet location. She was always very circumspect, when she wanted to use the Ladies' Room, saying, "I need to go to the little girls room," which I thought was absurd, for an adult woman. But I never told her that.

Looking for clues to her peeing styles, I watched her body language, over the years, especially how she sits, in everyday life. She is pretty much a compulsive leg crosser, sitting in a skirt or dress, and she occasionally shows some thigh, during the crossing or uncrossing. Sometimes she sits with her legs uncrossed, and open enough to show some of her thighs, but not her panties. Neither of these displays of her legs seems to perturb her, in the least, and she rarely bothers to cover up, hastily, as many women do, when they think they've shown too much. I don't believe she is very aware of, or cares about the effects of her beautiful legs on men, although she has always been well aware of the appeal of her large, firm breasts, over most of her life.

I let her know how much I liked her legs, at happy hour, one evening. We were all at a large table, and she was sitting on a chair, facing outward, in a short skirt, with her bare legs crossed. We had all had two or three drinks, and were relaxed and uninhibited.

Out of the blue, she announced, to the group, "My legs are cold!"

I reacted, completely on impulse, "I'll keep your legs warm for you!" I said, as I slid off of my chair, hugged her legs, and caressed them from her ankles to her knees. She allowed this, without any protest, at all. Her legs were incredibly smooth, and I wanted to continue stroking them, but I came to my senses quickly, realizing we were in a public place, a crowded restaurant and bar, on a Friday evening, so I backed off immediately, and went back to my chair. On sober reflection, the next day, I hoped that I had not offended her. Neither of us ever spoke about this incident again, in reality, but look for it, in Part 2.

As to peeing outdoors, I wondered if she did it in a low or high squat, standing, with her legs spread, or some other style, which I couldn't imagine. One day, she inadvertently gave me some insight into this, albeit very indirectly. We were working together with some very large, paper blueprints and plans, in a pre-digital age. On that day, she was very attractively dressed, in a knee-length, full-skirted dress, and high heels, with sheer pantyhose, and white panties underneath, as I was soon to find out. We spread the prints out on the office floor, for ease of access, and viewing.

She was totally into the project, and seemingly oblivious to my presence, location, and gender, as well as her own attire. At one point, she squatted, moderately low, facing me directly, just a foot or two away, to point out some details, on one of the drawings. Her thighs were a couple of inches apart, and parallel to each other, not angled, with knees outward, and her knees were not fully bent, so her bum was still a few inches above her heels. I had seen her squat like this, in shorts or pants, previously, but I usually had a side or rear view. This time, I had a full frontal view, under her dress, which formed a tent over her legs, blocking her view of me, since I was sitting low, on the floor. I could see her legs and thighs, almost to her waist, in sheer pantyhose, with white panties underneath them, for several minutes. Her panties were not the thong style, which is popular now, but conventional briefs, which women had been wearing for decades, at that time.

I realized immediately that this must have been a comfortable squatting position for her, and she would probably adopt it, if she needed to pee outdoors. I could visualize her stream coming out straight forward between her thighs. Although I was totally surprised and thrilled, I managed to maintain my composure, and respond to her comments, about the drawing. So, to this day, I don't think she has any idea how much of her I had seen, and I was careful to never let her know. It also occurred to me that she probably sat on toilets, in a similar pose, with her legs parallel, and only a few inches apart.

She is a bit of a "clean freak," and I always expected that her compulsion would apply to her own bodily fluids, as well. Once, we were jogging at noon, on a hot day, both of us sweating profusely, as we stopped to turn around, together.

"You're sweating on me!" she protested, suddenly and loudly.

"Very sorry!" I replied, as I moved away from her. Her reaction told me that she was probably very aware of bodily fluids, even her own, on her skin, and would probably try very hard not to get wet, when she peed. Or at least, she would probably wipe herself very thoroughly, if she did get wet.

We were recently reminiscing about our relationship, over the years, what good friends we are, etc., and she commented, spontaneously, that we have never been lovers, without my initiating the subject. I said we came close, and were tempted, at times, but that was true, so far. We have remained Platonic friends, at least outwardly.Then I added that we're both still alive, so it would not be impossible for us to become lovers, at some point. She replied that it was probably just as well, because we might have developed frictions, which could have spoiled our friendship. I had to agree with her, on that. We have had spirited technical and political disagreements, over many years, but they never threatened our friendship.

We have both had more than our share of major medical problems, throughout our relationship, and have confided openly with each other, about them. She had a double mastectomy, with reconstructive surgery, about twelve years ago, and I had a burst appendix, successfully removed, and am being monitored for serious prostate problems, as well as work- and athletic-induced leg and back problems, which have me walking with a cane.

Her doctor prescribed a diuretic, or "water pill" for her, to address her water retention problems, and she would often tell me if she had taken her pill, or not, when we went on business trips together. This would usually depend on her perception of the availability of clean women's bathroom facilities at our planned destinations, for the day, and to let me know when she was likely to need a trip to the Ladies' room.

We were once on a trip to Arizona, where it was extremely hot and dry, and she got very dehydrated, in spite of her best efforts. She excused herself to use the Ladies' room, and returned, saying, "Nothing coming out. I need to take my pill." I told her she should drink more fluids, first. So we have always communicated openly with each other, about our bodily functions, and the transition to a "wet" romantic relationship would probably be natural and relatively easy, as the fictional story predicts, starting in Part 2.

Dr.P