"Ellie's" Story: Part 2: "P" and Me

[Dr.P 1,455]

Ellie's Story, PART 2: "P" and Me."

I just read a memoir, written by a "Dr.P," of an intimate relationship he had with a woman, several decades ago. I am absolutely certain that I am that woman. He paints a romantic and erotic picture of our times together, which I enjoyed reading. It brought back some erotic and exciting memories for me. I think he was pretty honest and accurate about what happened between us, although our recollections may differ on some points. He certainly describes the sounds of my peeing incredibly well, so he must have been listening to me very carefully! He even remembers how many times I started and stopped, that first time that he heard me pee, after all these years!

Although things happened pretty much as he said, physically, there was a world of difference in how we saw and interpreted them! I love having the opportunity to tell our story, as I remember it, and I am doing that here. I have given a little background on my life, before I met the guy I knew simply as "P" in Part 1. (Not using his full name, for obvious reasons.)

Not long after my divorce, I began working as a librarian at a large company in California, and soon hooked up with a married guy, who became my steady lover, and eventually my boss, although I still dated others, on occasion. My lover liked my relaxed attitude toward peeing from the very beginning, and actually followed me into the bathroom while we were carrying on a conversation, on our first date! He continued to be my occasional companion in the bathroom, whenever we were together, but he didn't seem as fascinated by my peeing as my first boyfriend, or my ex-husband. I did catch him looking between my legs once or twice, to see my hissing, spraying pee. He commented on how sexy it looked and sounded, but he still didn't seem interested in making peeing a regular part of our sexual activities. But occasionally sharing the bathroom became a natural, very relaxed, and common thing with him, when we were together. I really wanted more, but he didn't seem all that interested.

I met "P" a little later, while I was working at the same company. It was obvious that he had a huge crush on me, almost from the day we met. He was always looking at me, and seeking opportunities to talk with me, legitimate or otherwise. He seemed like a genuinely nice guy, definitely not creepy, but he always acted a little nervous and shy, around me. I could tell that he really liked my legs, and my short skirts. He was attractive enough, but I thought he was too young for me, in his late twenties, just out of graduate school, from some university in the Midwest. He was also married. We became good friends and talked a lot, both at work, and at company parties. Although I felt comfortable and very safe with him, I didn't want to let anything romantic develop between us, partly because it would complicate my relationship with my boss and lover.

He never gave up, though. He was always there when I needed a friend to talk to, or needed help with anything. He took as good care of me as he could, over a period of several years. Finally, a very nasty political situation arose at work, involving me, and I could have lost my job, which would have been a disaster, in those times. He had some very critical information, which he quickly passed on to me and my boss, which saved my job. He took some risk in passing it on, proving that he was a true friend, not just another guy trying to get laid. So our friendship deepened, becoming a lot closer and warmer, and we began to trust one another. He asked me out to dinner, as he had done previously on several occasions, but this time I finally accepted, and we had a very good time. He had to go on a trip to a conference in a neighboring state, and he asked me to go with him, since I had friends in the same location that I wanted to visit. I agreed to go, and that's how our sexual relationship got started.

We drove all day on a Sunday to our destination, which was OK, because we were in no hurry, and it gave us a chance to get to know each other better. We talked for the entire day, about everything, including our relationship, and the fact that we would have to use condoms for sex, since I had been taken off of the pill, and he hadn't had a vasectomy, yet. So we were feeling quite comfortable with one another by the time we reached the motel that he had picked out, which was very nice and secluded, in a quiet part of town. We showered separately, and got dressed for dinner. I wore a short skirt and blouse, with my legs bare, since I had a nice tan. Thought I'd give him a little treat, since he only got to see me in pantyhose, at work.

Although I had had plenty of time and opportunity to pee in private, while I was in the bathroom, showering and getting ready, I hadn't done it, because it wasn't that urgent, and it slipped my mind. I really felt the need when we were about to leave for dinner, and I asked him how long it would take us to get to the restaurant. He said, "About a half-hour." We were standing together, right in front of the bathroom door, adjacent to the room door, as they are arranged, in many motels. I turned to him, took his hands in mine, looked directly into his eyes and said, "I have to "go" before we leave, OK?" Then I turned and slipped into the bathroom, making a gesture toward closing the door, but intentionally pushing it so gently that it stopped, and remained half-open. "Go ahead, get comfortable," he said, shifting slightly sideways from the half-open bathroom door, so he wouldn't appear to be looking directly at me, on the toilet. His voice sounded calm and casual.

I knew he would be able to hear everything, and probably see a lot too, if he was interested, and remained where he was standing. I also knew that I should be careful at this stage of our relationship, but I was very curious about his attitude toward women peeing, which we had never talked about, and I thought I might get some answers, right then. In our conversations, he seemed quite knowledgeable and relaxed about female bodily functions, periods, etc., having grown up with three sisters, in a small house, with only two bathrooms. So I didn't think he would be turned off by hearing, or even seeing me pee.

I raised my skirt, and gathered it around my waist, slipping my panties below my knees, so I could open my legs comfortably, as I always did. I sat down, started peeing, and began folding a piece of toilet paper for wiping, finally draping it over my thigh, as I often did, since my pee went on for a long time, hissing and spraying. This time, my bladder was much fuller than I thought, before I started peeing.

I had a pretty serious bladder infection at one time in the past, so I have to push a little bit harder to get my pee to come out, and it sometimes stops in the middle, if I don't keep pushing, so I have to restart. Some scar tissue or adhesions, from the infection, the doctor said. The surgery and recovery recommended to fix my problem sounded nasty, and I don't want it, so I just live with it. It isn't much of a problem; my pee still gushes out as fast as ever, with my hiss a little louder than before, but it sometimes sprinkles sort of unpredictably, when I restart. So it can be a little bit messy, especially at times when I have to go really bad. But that's what toilet paper is for, so I don't worry about it much.

I stopped and restarted two or three times while I was peeing, this time. If he was listening or watching, as I was pretty sure he was, he was getting quite a show! I never looked up at the door, to see if he was there. Didn't want to scare him off, by catching his eyes watching me. But I thought I could feel his presence.

I finally finished, and wiped carefully, since the spraying, starting, and stopping had gotten me pretty wet. I wanted to make sure my panties stayed dry, when I pulled them back up, and that I hadn't left any telltale dribbles still on, or running down my bare legs.

Walked out of the bathroom to meet him, still smoothing my skirt down and checking my legs for stray dribbles, I expected him to be near the bathroom door, where I had left him, and wondered what he had heard or seen, how he felt about it, and about me. I was surprised to see him at the opposite end of the room, away from the bathroom, looking out the window! That was the last place I would have expected to find him! I was sure his natural curiosity would have kept him very close to that bathroom door, and I was even hoping for an intimate comment, of some sort. After all, I thought my actions and body language had said, "I'm going to pee here right now, and you can listen to me, and even watch, if you want to, since I'm leaving the door open," even though I hadn't said a word out loud.

Why didn't he understand that my intentionally leaving the door half-open meant that I was totally comfortable with us as a couple, and welcomed having him very close to me, to share some very intimate and personal things with him, including my peeing? If I had had any desire to keep my peeing private from him, I would have closed that door completely! I was so disappointed that I didn't know any more about him now, than I had before my visit to the bathroom, practically peeing right in front of him, after giving him a silent invitation, and opportunity to watch me! Why hadn't he taken advantage of it?

Well, maybe he had. He was either a perfect gentleman, or really not interested, or faking it very well, probably the last, I thought. He could possibly have watched and/or listened to me pee, then moved quickly away from the bathroom door, before I emerged, after my extended wiping operation. [His memoir says that is exactly what he did, because he was afraid I would think his interest in my peeing was perverted!] His face and body language gave me no clues; he had covered pretty well, if there was anything to cover. "Ready?" he asked. We walked to the car together, hand in hand, and went to dinner.

We had a very lovely, romantic dinner, with cocktails before, and wine during dinner. He was very polite and sweet, and actually complimented me openly on my beautiful legs, for the first time ever in our relationship, as we walked back to the car! We stopped at another place for a drink and some dancing, to further set a romantic mood, and we ended up in bed, very soon after we got back in our room. He was very passionate and attentive, kissing me all over, and he seemed to genuinely enjoy licking me as much as I enjoyed being licked.

But he had a problem staying hard, using a condom. That was a surprise to both of us, since he was a healthy, athletic guy, in his early thirties by then, and shouldn't have had any physical problems. I felt really bad, wondering if I had done something to turn him off. Had my little, private pee show been a mistake? But he seemed fine, without the condom, and he also seemed to be crazy about me. So I tried to put that out of my mind, but it worried me, too. Did I turn him off in some way, for some reason? The rest of the trip was unfortunately kind of spoiled, at that point; the condom problem bothered him a lot, I could tell. He seemed very embarrassed, and didn't want to talk about it, so I left it alone.

We got back home and drifted apart for a while, after that. Talking at work became awkward, for some time. But we drifted together and talked again at a company party, more than a year later, and hit it off, just like we had, previously. We gradually got back together for occasional happy hour drinks, and a few casual dinner dates. I had to admit to myself that I had missed him, and he obviously missed me. My relationship with my lover was rocky at that point, and I was ready to give "P" another try. We developed a pattern where we would go out for some combination of happy hour drinks, dinner, and dancing, then go home to my place, and make love. He had had his vasectomy by that time, and was fine.

I would head for the bathroom immediately, when we got home, and tell him to make us a night cap, while I went. I always had to pee badly, because we had been drinking, and I almost never peed in the public Ladies' rooms at the restaurants. Like most women, I hated them anyway, because they were usually filthy, and I would rather hold it until I got home. I always left the bathroom door half-open, at home, for him to hear and see whatever he wanted, without seeming too obvious. I was still very curious about his interests, and hoped I could tease him into revealing them.

He never made a comment, or gave any indication of interest in my peeing, although we often carried on a conversation, while I was actually doing it! But I noticed that he could never seem to get our drinks made, while I was in the bathroom, although he came to my house often enough to know where everything was kept. So I was sure that he was following me part of the way to the bathroom, listening to me pee, and then hurrying back to where he should be, to make our drinks. [His memoir verifies that this is exactly what he did.]

I had a very small, private bathroom immediately off of my bedroom, in my house, and I decided to see if I could tease him into making a move on me, there. One night, we were both already totally nude, in bed, and fooling around. He was giving me a whole body massage, as I remember. I told him I needed to pee, and got up, telling him I wanted to get that out of the way, before we went any further. I slipped into the little bathroom, left the door half open, and peed loud and long. He waited for me on the bed, and had a big hard on when I came back, but never said a word about my peeing. I was puzzled. I thought about tricking him into joining me in the bathroom sometime, like starting to pee, then stopping, and telling him that I was out of toilet paper, requesting that he bring me some, at which point I would start peeing again. Or I could use some other excuse, like a problem with the toilet, that I needed him to look at, right away. But I decided those were pretty lame strategies. Maybe he just wasn't interested. But somehow, I couldn't believe that.

In another effort to add some variety to our relationship, beyond our usual pattern, I told him about a cabin that I owned with my ex, in a nice, wooded area, outside of the city. I suggested that we take off and spend two or three days there, completely alone together, with all the privacy in the world, and plenty of time to enjoy it. I explained that it didn't have running water or indoor plumbing, but was in a very natural, secluded location, so we could do absolutely anything we wanted to do there, and wear anything, or nothing at all, while we were there together. I told him that I didn't dare go there alone, but would love to have him come with me.

I was imagining things we might do there, like walking in the woods and making love outdoors, where I might just have to pee, with him watching me. Or I might invite him to go with me to the outdoor privy, telling him I could only feel safe if he went along, and came inside with me. Or I could pee in a pot, right in front of him, in the cabin. But I didn't actually share any of those fantasies with him.

He said the idea sounded good to him, but he never got back with me, so I could be sure I had the use of the cabin when we decided to go, and we could make arrangements for both of us to get away. So I pretty much gave up, at that point.

I didn't dare invite him openly to come into the bathroom with me, in case my guesses about him were wrong, and my bodily functions turned him off. I also knew that men talk about women, and I didn't want the intimate details of my peeing habits and secret desires to be part of those conversations.

Reading his memoir, with all of his revelations about his desires and feelings about me, is very flattering, but totally amazing to me now. I couldn't read those things in him then, but I always had my suspicions, most of which were verified in his memoir. Wish I had known then, what I learned from reading his memoir. Things might have gone VERY differently between us! Wish he had said something, or given me a clue about his interest in me, especially his "forbidden" desires, and what he was thinking and fantasizing about me, as he listened to me pee. I don't think his desires and thoughts were "perverted," when I read them in his memoir, now. And I would have welcomed them, and him, with open arms (and legs) then!

I think about him now, and wonder what might have been, between us, if I had known then what I know now. We spoke on the phone a couple of years ago, and I'm afraid I gave him the impression that I didn't welcome his call. So he has not called again. Things would definitely be different, if I were to hear from him now. We are both older, but I still pee exactly like I did then, and it still hisses! Wish he could be with me, to see and hear it for himself, and satisfy both of our curiosities, at long last!