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How it all started for me

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So unlike many of you on this forum, I came to this fetish a bit later, 18 years old to be precise. I think, however, that after you hear my story you’ll understand why pissing, in all its forms, represents the supreme sexual thrill for me.

My high school decided to hold its senior picnic at a local state park which featured a decent-sized lake and several trails for hiking. The school had the largest pavilion set aside for us, and there was food, soda, and iced tea provided in abundance for all. It wasn't long before the students split off into smaller groups and began to wander about the grounds of the park. For the occasion I had procured a small quantity of high-quality kush and was planning to smoke it with a classmate of mine I'll call C. C...wow. She was the hottest girl of our graduating class but didn't seem to know it. She was sexually inexperienced and somewhat of a prude. She had a gorgeous body...not much of a butt but her 36c breasts more than made up for it. Shoulder-length chestnut hair with fringe bangs, dark eyebrows and a beautiful, petite featured face. She was slim but still had wonderful hips, and her skin was so pale, milky, and smooth...yeah. Easy on the eyes is an understatement.

She usually wasn't one for revealing clothing, opting on most days for large t-shirts and jeans. On this day, however, she was wearing a babydoll shirt that outlined the wonderful curvature of her breasts, a pair of those Candies platform sneakers, and a pair of cotton Aero short-shorts, the kind with a drawstring at the waist that were loose and roomy around the thighs. This last detail will come into sharp focus. It didn't take long for her and I to pick the most secluded-seeming of the trails to get high and avoid getting caught. Once we were out of eye-and-earshot of our classmates, I packed the bowl, lit up, and we passed it back and forth between us. It wasn't long before the weed loosened us both up and we were giggling and sharing barely-coherent inside jokes. Now all this time I had been nursing a chub by stealing every glance I could at her lovely thighs, plenty full for a petite girl. Eventually, we passed a large , fallen oak just off the trail that made a perfect seat for us to sit side by side whilst I packed a second bowl. The way she was sitting caused her shorts to run a few inches up her thighs, and I kept my arms carefully folded across my lap to hide my reaction to this development. We were sitting close enough for our clothing to touch. I noticed, halfway thru the bowl, that she was shaking her leg up and down with increasing rapidity. I asked her what was wrong, wondering if the weed was making her nervous.

"No. I have to pee, like, really bad." Hoo boy. Now up until this point I wasn't into pee but i did know that a girl peeing outdoors involved a degree of baring her vagina to the open air in one form or another.  My thoughts, already clouded by the pot were stirring uncontrollably and my heart started racing. I felt it beating against my T-shirt as I tested the water:

“Well…do you think you can make it back to where the bathroom is?”

"Not gonna happen. I'm sorry, not to be gross but I'm gonna pee here." I became rock hard with staggering rapidity. I believe this was the moment my fetish was born, but what followed gives me goosebumps of extreme satisfaction to this day. That said, at this point I still wanted to be a gentleman and not a creep.

"Okay, you want me to walk back to the trail until you're done?" I figured, with her shy nature that catching a peek was out of the question but maybe I could at least hear her urine hitting the dirt from the trail. 

"No, please just stay here, I don't wanna feel like I'm alone, you know?" She lightly grasped my arm as if to prevent me from stirring. But like a tree standing by the waterside, I would not be moved. "I'm sorry, please don't think I'm gross." 

I attempted to sound cavalier but my voice trembled yet. "Not at a---all." I guess the weed made her paranoid of being alone. I had all the excitement of a kid on christmas morning as she set to work.

She scooted her little butt up to the edge of the fallen oak until she was perched just below her tailbone and spread her legs wide with me still next to her. Her bare left knee touched my right. Now, remember that loose-about-the-thighs detail? She took great advantage of this, pulling the leg up and across her crotch, exposing her left thigh to the ass cheek as she hopped slightly so her bum would hold it in place. I was already leaning forward to hide my priaprismatic boner and only had to look peripherally to see her lime green panties. What happened next, I swear to this day I saw in slow motion. Her right hand, still clutching at the leg of the shorts, swept across the panties' crotch and pulled it completely to the side. Dear God.

Her pubic hair was very close-cropped, its outline still discernable, and the slightly puffy outer labia parted to reveal the bubblegum-pink folds within, slick and shiny. Perhaps the weed made her horny. She was preoccupied looking down at this but had to know I was watching. My body was aquiver and sweat pops were blooming on my forehead as, with both hands, she spread her labia out with a slightly upward, diagonal angle. She exhaled slowly through her mouth and it started, not gradually, but almost instantly, spraying forth maybe 2 1/2-3 feet infront of her, a strong, singular stream with a slight parabolic arc. As her urethra had a clear shot, the only sound was of her urine hitting the forest floor where a mound of foam began to build up between her sneakers. It had to have been 45 seconds to a minute, but for me, time had frozen. My senses heightened by the weed, I caught hints of ammonia in the air, accompanied by an undercurrent of her own secret, sticky-sweet girlish scent. My mind was overloaded. The stream died down almost as quickly as it started, the last few drops running down the fallen tree between her legs. She air-dried for a monent, then as she replaced her clothing she turned and made a coquette's face, winking one eye and sticking out her tongue. That did it.

I swear my dick recoiled as it shot out the most massive wad of my life up to that point. She quickly stood, adjusted her shorts and brushed the debris from her ass. I was dumbstruck, barely feeling the damp slickness in my boxers as I listened to the foam dissipate. I recovered enough to realize I ought to say something.

"It looks like someone poured out a beer," I said in monotone, gesturing to the foamy patch. She agreed, giggling. On our walk back we were in a mirthful way, joking about her bladder size and her good aim. She knew I saw it, bare pussy and all, and her cheeks were flushing red on-and-off all the way back. When we got back to the pavilion I ran to the restroom to clean myself as best I could, stroking myself to two more explosive orgasms in the process. 

So that's my story. Would it be okay if I posted it in the "True Stories" section as well? I think it would be of interest. I'd challenge any man to walk away from that experience without a passionate and lifelong urine fetish.

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It's always great to hear someone else had such awesome experiences on the trail. I got my introduction to the fetish there, too.

Edited by glad1
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