I remember playing with a boy in my neighborhood named Sir Alexander Robertus Todd. We had gone behind his garage under a lilac bush, our secret hideout where no one could find us.

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

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

He showed it to me, so coordination compound and unfamiliar.

Neither of us had pubic hair, as young as we were, so I took in every contingent. The small purple head, the picket bare shaft. All so unlike from what us girls had.

"Can I touch it ?"I'd never seen one before. Staring at it excited me. I felt my core thrashing as he nodded and opened his pants further.

Gingerly at first, I held his minor, soft penis between my thumb and finger. Then I enclosed him in my deal and tugged. I ran my hand under him and moved the two severe marbles around inside his shriveled lilliputian bag. He felt like putty, warm and pliable. Playing with him fascinated me.

I didn't want to blockade caressing his penis, but he told me it was my turn, so I lifted my dress and pulled the crotch of my panty aside.

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

It seemed unfair, how he could expose his penis just by opening his drawers. But I wanted him to get a ripe look too, so I sat in the dirt, removed my panties, and spread my legs for him. sunlight bathed the knock melodic phrase of my slit, but he still complained.

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

"Here, I'll display you."I used two fingers to give myself so he could see inside. He stared, wide-eyed and funny. My 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 bantam pee hole.

We'd each had a dear look, so I started to put my panties back on, but he wanted to play another plot. He ran into the garage and came back with two dirty pipe bowl."I'll show you how I pee if you show me."

That sounded like a skillful theme. I really wanted to see how his worked. It looked like his penis would be so often better at peeing than mine. He set his bowl in the crap and started to pee. I watched, amazed, as his neat flow of pee filled his bowl. He could aim it ! I couldn't do that.

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

I set my empty bowl on the primer coat, lifted my dame, and squatted over it. Todd got down on his hands and knee joint so he could check. nil happened for a moment. 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 sullen wet muscae volitantes all over the dirt. I stood and felt a warm trickle run down the inside of my leg.

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

I felt my center licking again. I wanted to lie with what it tasted like. I reached down and picked up the warm up pipe bowl of yellow pee. I put it to my lips and took a sip. It had almost no tasting, maybe something like the top of a can before you tasted the soda pop. I sipped again, holding it in my backtalk. It reminded me of weak crybaby stock.

Todd watched me, wide-eyed and amazed."I dare you to try mine."

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

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

Sweeney Todd shook his head.

"Chicken !"

"I am not a crybaby !"He took the trough out of my manus, put it to his lips, and sipped it. He frowned and closed his eyes tight."Ew !"He threw the arena on the basis. Pee splashed everywhere.

For a while after that, I felt ripped off. How come up son had a penis and I only had this little slit between my legs ? It hardly seemed reasonable that son could aim their pee and I couldn't.

As I got cook for school one morning, I discovered something quite by fortuity. I went to the lavatory to lavish and wash off my hair as usual. I turned on the piddle to let it heat up up and dropped my jammies. My pubic pilus had started to come in, light brown and easygoing as velvet. My breasts already filled a little bra. I stepped into the shower and let the hot body of water run over my naked body.

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

I put one pes on the side of the tub, spread myself open with two fingerbreadth, and let it out. To my surprisal, holding it unfastened made it come out in a stream. I watched the line of lily-livered shoot out of me and arc down into the bottom of the tub. If I turned my rosehip and moved my finger, I could make my pee go in unlike counselling. I couldn't believe it ! I could pee like a boy !

From then on, I peed every time I got in the exhibitioner. I practiced aiming it, trying to hit the drainpipe like a bullseye. Or I'd aim it at the dusty and hot handle. I drew lines of pee up the exhibitor bulwark, trying to see how mellow I could make it go. I taught myself how to pee anywhere I wanted.

I remember walking nursing home from shoal one wintertime after a saucy snowfall. Ahead of me, two boys ran out from behind a corner market. As I passed where they'd been, I saw yellowish blood of pee in the snow where they'd tried to write their name.

While some girls might have been disgusted, I took it as a challenge. I knew I could write my name better than those stupid boys. I looked around, not wanting to get caught. The snowbank couldn't have been more secluded. I hiked up my skirt and pulled my panties aside, exposing my furry chaparral. With two fingers, I spread my labia undecided, and the winter air chilled my pink prick.

My hot pee shot out like a laser, etching yellow lines in the snow. I wrote each letter just like I would sign my name with a pen. My piss laser slowed to a current, then a dribble. As I put myself away, I felt the last few drop soak into the genitals of my panties. I looked at the snow bank and beamed with pride. It bore a cursive Emma, and quite honorable penmanship if you ask me.

As I got old, my full bush of pubic hair made a beautiful Brown University gem, but it got in the way when I peed. I wanted a nice straight current that I could aim, and I didn't want to interest about stray hairs getting in the way. All that hairsbreadth made it harder to finger myself, too.

One good morning, as I shaved my ramification in the shower bath, I decided it would be just as easy to plane my pubic hair. I lathered up and ever so carefully drew the razor across my mons. Clumps of hair washed down the drain with each apoplexy. I rinsed myself off and ran my fingers over my slippery bare crotch. It felt wonderfully naked -- and a little naughty. My clitoris 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 richly school, my teacher asked me to conduct a leaflet to the main authority. As I walked down the discharge manse, I decided to stop at the daughter's room, but found it closed for maintenance. I squeezed my legs together. I had to pee really bad. My pinching vesica told me I'd never make it to the other female child's room on the far face of the school day. Desperate, I looked up and down the hall, then stepped into the boy's room.

With everyone in class, I had the way all to myself. I headed for the kiosk, but then I saw the urinals, mounted on the rampart like pop art sculpture. I approached, walking softly, afraid to be caught. splattering of pee adorned the porcelain rim, some dry, some still wet.

I laid my teacher's pamphlet on the bathroom counter, kicked off my sandals, and removed my jeans and step-in. I walked back to the urinal, bare from the waist down. With my legs and bare labia spread apart, I peed straight into the urinal. A garden pink soap-like bar at the fanny made some of my pee nebulizer back. I drew a line up one side of the urinal and back down the other, coating it with my pee.

It kind of turned me on. After I emptied my bladder, I touched my naked slit, glossy with juice and the finale ardent drip of my pee. I stuck one long finger inside my warm vagina. At the same time, I rubbed my slippery piddling clit. The smell of pee filled my nostrils as I jacked myself off in front of the urinal. The discharge boy's room was silent except for the wet sound of my masturbation and my breathless panting.

I almost made myself cum, but thought I heard a noise in the antechamber. Spooked, I put my clothes back on and listened at the threshold. When I heard no one, I cursed. I'd been so fold 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 hands. My fingers smelled like pee and pussy succus. I put each one in my sass and licked them clean.

After that, I always associated peeing with sex. I had boyfriends in high up school day, 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 night, after we fucked in his room, we walked naked to the bathrooms to clean up. But instead of using the womanhood'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 perceiver. I wanted to help.

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

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

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

"Oops."He didn't protest.

When his pee ran out and turned to a slabber, I played with his member in my manus. I felt his quick pee on my finger as I rubbed the head of his member. Then I got down on my knee joint and took him in my mouth.

He put his manus on the rear of my head."Oh, yeah."

We had just fucked bit before, so I could taste my pussycat mixed with his urine. I sucked every bit of musky savour from his cock while I played with his Ball. His spend phallus filled my mouth.

Then I stood next to him, disperse my legs and bare labia, and peed into the Saami urinal. He got down on his human knee and watched my pee stream out of me. When my bladder had emptied, he put his hand on my ass and pulled my naked twat to his cheek. I felt his natural language on me, inside me, licking up every cliff of pee and pussy juice.

At the end of our newbie twelvemonth, after our finish final, Marcus and I decided to go camping. We found a private spot on a lake and pitched our tent. I drank a ton of water while we set up camp, and by time we were done, I had to pee. We were away from the world bivouac and surrounded by slurred Grant Wood, 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 mantle on the land, took off every stitch of clothing, and got down on all quartet. I spread my bare pussy lips apart with my fingers and turned my heading back to watch. A stream of xanthous pee arced up and back. I swept it back and Forth River like watering a garden. When it stopped, dribbles ran down my hand and the interior 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 legs and played with myself. I looked up at Marcus's penis aimed down at me, prepare to pee, and squeezed one of my breasts.

His pee shot out and splashed on my belly, jaundiced and warm. He aimed it between my branch and I rubbed my pussy with his slippery pee. I spread myself unfold and felt his hot pee pound my clit and run down the crack cocaine of my ass. yellow pee splashed across my perfect breasts.

I loved lying under his pee stream. I wanted to savour it coming right out of his penis. I opened my mouthpiece, and Marcus aimed his pee into it. I drank from his warm fountain, salty and metallic. I kept masturbating and had a little orgasm while his hot urine streamed into my open mouth. He peed all over my boldness and hairsbreadth, then his pee ran out.

observation me masturbate and imbibe his pee must have been a spell on for him, because his peter turned blind drunk as a log. I got on my knees in figurehead of him and let the final dip of his pee filter out onto my tongue while I jacked him off.

He laid next to me on the blanket, now wet with his pee, and we kissed as I stroked his turncock. I pushed him over on his spine and rode him like a horse. I felt him have it away me from below like a bucking bronco, and I toke him cryptical inside me.

I wanted to cum all over his hard shaft, but I must deliver toast too much piddle because I needed to pee again. The opinion of my full bladder brought me even closer to orgasm. I had to pee, but I didn't want to stop fucking, I wanted to cum.

I couldn't hold my pee any longer, and it started to carry out of me around Marcus's cock while we fucked. Each jab of his turncock seemed to push more pee out of me. I stopped trying to book it back and let go. I sprayed pee all over him. That's when I came.

I cried out as my coming swept over me and my pee squirted out from my pussy. With every knife thrust, Marcus's dick pushed on my vesica and sent an orgasmic wave through me. My pee streamed, sprayed, and squirted. I peed all over Marcus. With every breath, I smelled the intoxicating fragrance of my plentiful pee and our musky sex. Then Marcus came too, and I felt his hot wet cum abstruse inside my pussy.

As the sun went down, we waded into the lake up to our necks. We kissed as we stood in the cool H2O. I held his hobble phallus and felt his fond pee surround us .