"Ellie"

[Dr.P 1,473]

"ELLIE"
by Dr. P

Notes: This is a memoir or documentary story, rather than a work of fiction, and is as factual as memory enables it to be. I have not embellished it intentionally. That is why I have submitted it to the "Real Pee Stories & Sightings" Forum. I wrote an initial draft of it in 1999 or 2000, covering events which had happened in the 1970's and '80's. It's a relatively long story, about a relationship which lasted more than ten years. Of course the name is fictional, and bears no resemblance to the name of the principal character. This is probably one of the earliest, as well as the "driest" and least intensely visual of my recollections. It focuses on audio more than others, for reasons which will become obvious, shortly. Although I didn't have an openly wet, two-way relationship with "Ellie," and I don't think she knew of my taboo interests, she will always have a special place in my heart, because of her fascinating peeing style and habits. She was the first of several women with whom I enjoyed intimate relationships, mostly "wet," over several decades.

Here is the story:

"Ellie" was an attractive lady, with stunningly beautiful legs, which she loved to show off, wearing the shortest of miniskirts throughout the entire decade of the 1970's, and into the 1980's. (Like Ally McBeal on US TV in the late 1990's). She was a few years older than I, recently divorced, and reputed to be a "swinger" at the time. She was a "Good Ol' Girl," born and raised in the Southwestern US, and seemed a little more adventurous than other women, even during that time of the "Sexual Revolution," and "Women's Liberation." For example, just for fun, she clipped her company badge to the side of her panties, and simply lifted her skirt to show it to the male guard, on entering our work facility in the morning. She told me she never cared who looked up her skirt. She really meant that, and I was always delighted to sit across from her while we talked!

Although "Ellie" was having an ongoing affair with another guy at work, we had many long and stimulating conversations. I was drawn to her, and openly pursued her for several years. We could talk, and we connected on many levels. Eventually, after I helped her escape a particularly nasty political situation at work, we became very close friends and began dating occasionally, but not yet sleeping together. Finally, I convinced her to go along with me on a short business trip. We knew we would be sleeping together on the trip, and talked about it enthusiastically. She told me to bring along some "protection", since she was off the pill. (Her steady boyfriend had had a vasectomy, while I had not, at that point.) We traveled by car for most of a Sunday, talking animatedly all the way. After checking into the motel, we showered separately and dressed for dinner, all casually and uneventfully, since we had 3 days, and there was no hurry to "jump each others bones," as the saying went, at the time.

We were about to leave for dinner, standing together between the bathroom door and the room door, talking about the restaurant we had chosen, and how far it was from the motel. She asked me how much time it would take to get there. "About a half hour," I said. She turned to me, took my hands in hers, looked deeply into my eyes and said, "I have to "go" before we leave, OK?" Without waiting for my answer, she slipped into the bathroom, moving the door slightly, to a half-closed position, but still open about a foot, on the knob side. She left it there, as if it didn't really matter to her ,since she was just following a social protocol. "Go ahead, get comfortable," I said, trying to sound as casual and relaxed as possible.

Her manner was a huge (and very welcome) surprise to me, maybe a pleasant shock would be more accurate, since we hadn't even slept together, and she was about to pee with no real visual or sound barriers between us! I was accustomed to women nervously closing and locking bathroom doors, and even running tap water to cover their peeing sounds, in similar situations, no matter how "liberated" they pretended to be. And the way she looked into my eyes and held my hands when she informed me of her need to pee, made me wonder if she was giving me some sort of invitation. I also wondered why she hadn't peed in complete privacy, during the time she had spent showering and dressing for dinner, without telling me at all.

Seeing the half-open door, I really wanted to watch her pee. But I knew that at this delicate point in the relationship, I didn't dare just walk in on her, or stand in the open doorway and watch her, where she could see me. To do so could be considered extremely rude, possibly frightening or disgusting to her, thereby ruining what could be a great few days together. And I knew she would tell everyone at work what a sicko pervert I was, if she took it particularly badly. So I was torn between curiosity, lust, and fear. Curiosity and lust won, but I was extremely careful, knowing what I perceived to be the risks.

I moved silently to a point near the door, where I could see through the open space between the hinge and the jamb. I had a perfect right side and partial front view of her sitting on the toilet, short skirt gathered up around her waist, out of the way, panties below her knees, with her beautiful, smooth bare thighs fully exposed and separated comfortably, about 3 or 4 inches apart at her knees, and open all the way up, totally relaxed. She had a length of toilet paper draped carefully over her left thigh, which she folded slowly and neatly, while she peed. I could not see her pussy or her stream at this angle, but could hear everything extremely well. This would have to do.

Although she sat in a very relaxed, nonchalant fashion, and she hadn't seemed desperate when she told me she had to "go," her stream gushed and hissed forcefully into the bowl, stopping and re-starting three times, before slowing to a trickle and stopping, finally. Although I had heard gallons of female pee, growing up with a mother and three younger sisters, in a small house, I had never heard anything like this. The gushing and hissing were a fantastic turn-on, and the stopping and starting were incredibly exciting, nearly driving me over the edge!

I wanted to watch her wipe, since I was confident that this spectacular audio performance could have left her thighs and buttocks quite wet, or at the very least sprinkled with a few drops, from the hissing sprays, and repeated starts and stops. I wanted to see where that wetness and those dribbles were on her body, and watch how she wiped them away, if she tried to. But I quickly came to my senses and moved discretely away from my vantage point, realizing that if she looked up and caught me too close to the door, it would give the game away, and all could be lost. So I moved quickly and quietly to the opposite end of the room, near the windows, where my location would not indicate any interest in her bathroom activities. She emerged from the bathroom after a few minutes, still smoothing her skirt, and checking her legs in the mirror. She looked for me first in my former position near the bathroom door, but finally found me across the room, near the windows. She looked a little  puzzled at my location, but didn't say anything.

We left for dinner, and I was and am sure she suspected nothing. After dinner, a few drinks, and some dancing at a local place, we got ready to return to the motel. As we walked back to the car, I told her how incredibly beautiful her legs were. (I was also remembering how beautiful her bare thighs were, sitting on the toilet, a few hours previously.) She smiled and thanked me. We returned to the motel, and finally slept together. There were no further opportunities to watch her pee on the rest of the trip, since getting up and moving toward the bathroom door, always left partially open, would have definitely aroused suspicion, in the small motel room. But I could hear everything, and her style was always the same, gushing and hissing, stopping, and restarting.

My subsequent experiences with women have indicated that this style of peeing is uncommon, if not rare. Most women simply let it all come out, possibly gushing and hissing in times of urgency, but then slowing gradually to a trickle, rather than stopping abruptly and restarting. I wondered why she did it that way. Was she practicing Kegel exercises to keep her vaginal and urinary sphincter muscles in good shape? Was it hard for her to urinate, for some reason, so she had to exert quite a bit of effort, stopping when she got tired, and then re-starting? I'll never know why, but I certainly enjoyed listening to her! Some of the most erotic sounds I have ever enjoyed hearing!

After this trip, we drifted apart, and occasionally back together, over a period of ten or more years, usually getting together after company parties, or when she and the steady boyfriend were on the outs. I had always been attracted to her, but she became a bit of an obsession, because of her unique peeing style. I fantasized repeatedly about watching her pee, and then licking her "dry," when she finished, or better yet, drinking her spray directly from her source.

In all the times we dated and went back to her house, she never once closed the door when she peed, always in the same hissing, gushing, stopping and starting fashion. She seemed totally unaware of my interest in her peeing, or how incredibly sexy it could possibly be, to a male listener. She would often give me a task, like making drinks, while she slipped off to pee. (I would always follow her at a discrete distance, anyway, so I could listen, then sneak back quickly to where I was supposed to be.) At other times, particularly in the bedroom, she would simply excuse herself, walking into the immediately adjacent bathroom, leaving the door half open, between the rooms. She must have known that I could hear every sound clearly, just as if I were in the bathroom with her, but it didn't seem to enter her mind or inhibit her, in any way. We sometimes even continued a conversation, while she was peeing.

I often wondered if her apparent nonchalance was really an invitation. Could she be a closet pee freak herself, wishing I would make a move, and fearing to approach me for the same reasons I was afraid to approach her? Advancing age, with its accompanying reduction in hormonal activity, makes me more rational, telling me that "Ellie" may have simply felt relaxed and comfortable with me, and with other men, and felt that peeing with the door open, in our presence, was no big deal. But the counter argument still intrigues me.

I was often sorely tempted to test the waters by simply following her into the bathroom when we returned to her place from an evening of drinking and dancing, when she would invariably head straight for it. I could simply have claimed drunken confusion, if she reacted badly. Besides, she was usually very relaxed and permissive when drinking, so the risk was small. But, unfortunately, I never found the courage to make that move.

I also thought about commenting to her about her peeing, after I had listened to her, and when we had been drinking a lot, saying something like, "You really had to go, didn't you? You should have told me, and I would have brought you home earlier," just to see what she might say. But I never developed the courage to do even that. I was afraid that if I acknowledged my awareness of her peeing openly, she would perceive my interest, and stop leaving the door open for me to listen.

She eventually quit her job and moved out of the immediate area, to a place about a day's drive away, and we spoke on the phone a few times, always planning to meet. But that has not happened, and more than 30 years have passed. I moved on, to other, very satisfying, and much wetter relationships. However, I have kicked myself many times, over the intervening years, for never making a move, or even a comment to "Ellie." Wonder what might have been, if I had behaved differently?

Epilogue

This story ends with a question: Just how important is that bathroom door when a woman is peeing in the company of a man she is dating and sleeping with? If it is closed, she obviously wants privacy. If it's wide open, it's either an invitation, or she just doesn't care. But if it's half open, what does it mean? Comments would be very welcome, especially from you lady readers.

I guess the main point to this story is the frustration and sense of lost opportunity that can result from not having the courage to act on what seems to be an invitation, but may not be. And it also asks the question as to what constitutes an invitation, in our culture? Also, have attitudes toward bodily functions like peeing really changed substantially over the last 30 to 40 years, either toward the more or the less permissive?

I have been puzzled about these questions for several decades, and have asked a few close women friends about it, receiving a variety of opinions.

One said, "If I shut the bathroom door it is because I am doing things I don't wish to share. Otherwise, the bathroom door is always ajar, to open, depending on how well I know the man."

"Half open for me means I am unsure of your response to pee, and I am testing you. OR, I am teasing you as I think I have seen signs you MIGHT be interested."

This woman friend was very much into pee sex, herself, and was always alert to, and seeking potential partners. On the one hand, I am aware that most mainstream American women are very secretive about their peeing styles and habits, and do their best to conceal them, especially from men. For a woman to break out of that established and expected behavior, she would need strong motivation, like she wants to share her secrets with the man she is with, to see if it interests him, or turns him on. That view supports what this woman was telling me here: "Ellie" was very interested, and she was either testing me or teasing me, and she kept on doing that for about ten years, altogether. In that view, she was very interested and very persistent! If she was, then she must have been very surprised and disappointed, when I didn't respond!

On the other hand, I can imagine that "Ellie" may have just been very comfortable with her natural, bodily functions, and with the men she was close to, dating, and sleeping with, and really didn't care if they shared the bathroom with her. Or maybe she thought that sharing the bathroom was part of the intimacy that a couple shares, when they have a sexual relationship. I feel that way, myself. In those cases, she might be surprised and more than a little bit anxious if a man she was with reacted with strong sexual feelings toward something she looked upon as a simple, mundane, and largely asexual bodily function. She might recoil and retreat from that man. That's what I was afraid of, among other possibilities.

It would be interesting to see some opinions and discussion, especially from female readers, on this site. How do real women feel about these issues, in today's world?

Dr. P