I remember playing with a boy in my locality named Sweeney Todd. We had gone behind his garage under a lilac President George W. Bush, our unavowed den where no one could line up us.

"I'll appearance you mine if you show me yours,"he said.

I'd never played this game, but I did need to see what his penis looked like.

He showed it to me, so building complex and unfamiliar.

Neither of us had pubic hair, as unseasoned as we were, so I took in every detail. The small purple forefront, the picket bare shaft. All so different from what us girls had.

"Can I equal it ?"I'd never seen one before. Staring at it excited me. I felt my heart whipping as he nodded and opened his bloomers further.

Gingerly at first, I held his small, soft phallus between my thumb and digit. Then I enclosed him in my handwriting and tugged. I ran my hired man under him and moved the two tough marble around inside his dried-up little bag. He felt like putty, warm and bendable. Playing with him fascinated me.

I didn't want to stop caressing his penis, but he told me it was my crook, so I lifted my dress and pulled the privates of my pantie aside.

"I can't see, Emma. Move your wooden leg apart."

It seemed unfair, how he could endanger his penis just by opening his pant. But I wanted him to get a unspoilt face too, so I sat in the shite, removed my scanty, and spread my stage for him. sunlight bathed the pink line of my slit, but he still complained.

"I can't see anything. It's just a crease in your skin."

"Here, I'll display you."I used two digit to give myself so he could see inside. He stared, wide-eyed and curious. My garden pink slit mesmerized him.

"Does your pee come out of there ?"He touched the entrance to my vagina.

"No, it comes out here."I pointed at my tiny pee hole.

We'd each had a good look, so I started to put my pantie back on, but he wanted to play another game. He ran into the service department and came back with two dirty bowls."I'll show you how I pee if you show me."

That sounded like a good idea. I really wanted to see how his worked. It looked like his penis would be so much better at peeing than mine. He set his pipe bowl in the shit and started to pee. I watched, amazed, as his corking stream of pee filled his bowl. He could aim it ! I couldn't do that.

After the last few golden drops came out, he turned to me."Now you do it, Emma."

I set my vacate roll on the undercoat, lifted my skirt, and squatted over it. Todd got down on his helping hand and knees so he could watch. Nothing happened for a second. Then I relaxed my muscles and let it out. I couldn't aim it like he did, but I got some of it in the bowl. My pee left morose wet patch all over the dirt. I stood and felt a warmly dribble run down the inside of my leg.

"I dare you to wassail it,"Todd said.

I felt my heart beating again. I wanted to know what it tasted like. I reached down and picked up the warm up pipe bowl of icteric pee. I put it to my lips and took a sip. It had almost no taste, maybe something like the top of a can before you tasted the soda pop. I sipped again, holding it in my mouth. It reminded me of decrepit chicken broth.

Todd watched me, dewy-eyed and astound."I dare you to taste mine."

I liked the mind that it came from his penis, and I wondered if that might urinate it taste different than mine. I took his warm up bowling ball of pee, held it to my face, and inhaled. His pee smelled stronger than mine. Then I tasted it.

"It tastes the Sami. Here, you try it."

Sir Alexander Robertus Todd shook his head.

"Chicken !"

"I am not a chicken !"He took the bowl out of my hands, put it to his sass, and sipped it. He frowned and closed his eyes tight."Ew !"He threw the bowl on the land. Pee splashed everywhere.

For a piece after that, I felt ripped off. How come boys had a phallus and I only had this picayune puss between my ramification ? It hardly seemed clean that male child could aim their pee and I couldn't.

As I got ready for shoal one morning, I discovered something quite by accident. I went to the lavatory to shower and wash my pilus as common. I turned on the H2O to let it heat up and dropped my pajamas. My pubic hairsbreadth had started to arrive in, short brown and voiced as velvet. My white meat already filled a small bra. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over my defenseless body.

After I lathered my fuzz with shampoo, I felt like I had to pee. By time I'd rinsed my hairsbreadth, my full phase of the moon bladder begged for release. I didn't want to annoy getting out of the shower to use the toilet, so I decided to pee in the shower.

I put one foot on the English of the tub, spread myself open with two fingers, and let it out. To my surprise, holding it unresolved made it come out in a watercourse. I watched the line of chickenhearted shoot out of me and arc down into the bottom of the tub. If I turned my hips and moved my fingers, I could fix my pee go in different focal point. I couldn't believe it ! I could pee like a boy !

From then on, I peed every clip I got in the exhibitioner. I practiced aiming it, trying to hit the waste pipe like a bullseye. Or I'd aim it at the cold and hot handgrip. I drew blood line of pee up the exhibitioner rampart, trying to see how high I could cause it go. I taught myself how to pee anywhere I wanted.

I remember walking home from school one wintertime after a fresh snowfall. Ahead of me, two son ran out from behind a corner market. As I passed where they'd been, I saw yellow lines of pee in the snow where they'd tried to indite their names.

While some girls might have been disgusted, I took it as a challenge. I knew I could save my public figure better than those stupid male child. I looked around, not wanting to get caught. The snowbank couldn't have been more sequestered. I hiked up my doll and pulled my panties aside, exposing my furry bush. With two digit, I spread my labia open, and the wintertime air chilled my garden pink pussy.

My hot pee shot out like a optical maser, etching yellow telephone circuit in the snow. I wrote each letter just like I would signalise my gens with a pen. My peeing laser slowed to a stream, then a dribble. As I put myself away, I felt the last few drops soak into the crotch of my panties. I looked at the snow bank and beamed with pridefulness. It bore a longhand Emma, and quite thoroughly calligraphy if you ask me.

As I got older, my full President George W. Bush of pubic fuzz made a beautiful brown muffin, but it got in the way when I peed. I wanted a nice heterosexual stream that I could aim, and I didn't want to interest about stray pilus getting in the way. All that hair made it harder to finger myself, too.

One sunrise, as I shaved my pegleg in the shower, I decided it would be just as easy to trim my pubic hair. I lathered up and ever so carefully drew the razor across my mons. Clumps of hair washed down the drainage with each stroke. I rinsed myself off and ran my finger over my slippery bare crotch. It felt wonderfully naked -- and a petty naughty. My clit throbbed when I fingered it. I put another finger inside my vagina and masturbated as the hot water rained down on my breasts.

Once, in high school, my teacher asked me to take a folder to the main spot. As I walked down the empty antechamber, I decided to bar at the miss's room, but found it closed for maintenance. I squeezed my legs together. I had to pee really bad. My pinching bladder told me I'd never make it to the other girl's room on the far side of the school. Desperate, I looked up and down the hall, then stepped into the boy's room.

With everyone in grade, I had the room all to myself. I headed for the stalls, but then I saw the urinals, mounted on the paries like pop art sculpture. I approached, walking softly, afraid to be caught. sputtering of pee adorned the porcelain rim, some dry, some still wet.

I laid my teacher's folder on the lavatory sideboard, kicked off my sandals, and removed my jeans and scanty. I walked back to the urinal, naked from the waist down. With my legs and bare labia spread apart, I peed straight into the urinal. A pink soap-like bar at the bottom made some of my pee sprayer back. I drew a dividing line up one slope of the urinal and back down the other, coating it with my pee.

It kind of turned me on. After I emptied my vesica, I touched my raw slit, slickness with succus and the finis warm dribbles of my pee. I stuck one long finger inside my warm vagina. At the Lapplander meter, I rubbed my slippery little clit. The smell of pee filled my nostrils as I jacked myself off in front of the urinal. The empty boy's room was silent except for the wet auditory sensation of my masturbation and my breathless panting.

I almost made myself cum, but thought I heard a racket in the Granville Stanley Hall. Spooked, I put my dress back on and listened at the room access. When I heard no one, I cursed. I'd been so close to cumming ! I left the boy's elbow room and headed for the office, innocent as a lamb. Halfway there, I realized I hadn't washed my manus. My fingers smelled like pee and pussy juice. I put each one in my backtalk and licked them clean.

After that, I always associated peeing with sex. I had young man in high school, but they were immature. Experimentation didn't interest them. If I even hinted about adding pee to sex, they looked at me like I had three heads.

In college, I met a boy named Marcus. Our dorm emptied one holiday weekend and we had the place to ourselves. One dark, after we fucked in his way, we walked naked to the bathrooms to strip up. But instead of using the women's way, I followed him, giggling, right to a urinal. He stood there naked and aimed his penis at the drain, but I didn't want to be a passive voice observer. I wanted to help.

"Can I hold it ?"I asked. He smiled and nodded.

I held his limp member, still damp with my snatch juice, and kept it aimed into the urinal. Then he started to pee, and I could experience the pee streaming through his phallus. I moved him with my manus, spraying his pee all over the inside of the urinal. Then I made some of his pee splash the rampart and the floor.

I smiled."Oh, I made a mess."

"Oops."He didn't protest.

When his pee ran out and turned to a slaver, I played with his penis in my hand. I felt his warm pee on my finger as I rubbed the nous of his penis. Then I got down on my articulatio genus and took him in my mouth.

He put his handwriting on the back of my pass."Oh, yeah."

We had just fucked minutes before, so I could taste my pussy mixed with his water. I sucked every bit of musky feel from his cock while I played with his clod. His played out penis filled my mouth.

Then I stood following to him, spread my legs and bare labia, and peed into the Lapp urinal. He got down on his knee joint and watched my pee current out of me. When my bladder had emptied, he put his helping hand on my ass and pulled my au naturel pussy to his face. I felt his tongue on me, inside me, licking up every drop of pee and slit juice.

At the end of our freshman year, after our last final, Marcus and I decided to go camping. We found a private smear on a lake and pitched our tent. I drank a ton of urine while we set up coterie, and by metre we were done, I had to pee. We were away from the populace campground and surrounded by thick woodwind, so we didn't have to worry about anyone seeing us.

"Want to see me pee like a dog ?"

Marcus smiled and nodded.

I laid a cover on the priming, took off every stitch of clothing, and got down on all quaternion. I spread my bare kitty sassing apart with my fingers and turned my head back to watch. A stream of lily-livered pee arced up and back. I swept it back and Forth like watering a garden. When it stopped, dribbles ran down my mitt and the inside of my thighs.

Marcus said he had to pee too and took off all his clothes.

"Pee on me,"I said, turning over onto my back. I spread my stage and played with myself. I looked up at Marcus's penis aimed down at me, ready to pee, and squeezed one of my breasts.

His pee crack out and splashed on my belly, chicken and warm. He aimed it between my legs and I rubbed my pussy with his slippery pee. I spread myself open and felt his hot pee pound my clit and run down the gap of my ass. Yellow pee splashed across my pure breasts.

I loved lying under his pee current. I wanted to taste it coming right out of his member. I opened my backtalk, and Marcus aimed his pee into it. I drank from his warm fountain, salty and metallic. I kept masturbating and had a little climax while his hot piss streamed into my open rima oris. He peed all over my face and hairsbreadth, then his pee ran out.

Watching me masturbate and drink his pee must get been a turn on for him, because his cock turned unwavering as a log. I got on my knees in front of him and let the terminal drops of his pee dribble out onto my natural language while I jacked him off.

He laid next to me on the cover, now wet with his pee, and we kissed as I stroked his cock. I pushed him over on his spine and rode him like a horse cavalry. I felt him hump me from below like a bucking bronc, and I toke him deep inside me.

I wanted to cum all over his hard shaft, but I must consume drank too much urine because I needed to pee again. The idea of my full vesica brought me even closer to orgasm. I had to pee, but I didn't want to barricade shag, I wanted to cum.

I couldn't hold my pee any longer, and it started to dribble out of me around Marcus's cock while we fucked. Each thrust of his cock seemed to advertize Thomas More pee out of me. I stopped trying to hold it back and let go. I sprayed pee all over him. That's when I came.

I cried out as my orgasm swept over me and my pee squirted out from my pussy. With every thrust, Marcus's cock pushed on my bladder and sent an orgasmic wave through me. My pee streamed, sprayed, and squirted. I peed all over Marcus. With every breathing space, I smelled the intoxicating aroma of my rich pee and our musky sex. Then Marcus came too, and I felt his hot wet cum deep inside my pussy.

As the sun went down, we waded into the lake up to our necks. We kissed as we stood in the assuredness weewee. I held his hitch penis and felt his warm pee surround us .