A Young Person’s Introduction to pee fetish

It’s now about three years since we first met at
Claire’s 21st birthday party. It’s a clich , I know, but
it seems like such a long time ago. You seemed so shy
then – I guess I did too – and so bright. I love you,
Little Star.

I miss you so much. Ah, I can’t wait until your return
from Perth. I have a countdown of days on the fridge:
23. I feel like calling, but I know you’d like to get a
letter so I’ll finish this first.

Do you remember when we went away for the weekend just
after we started going out? I hope you do! I have a
photo of us near that lighthouse, holding hands and
smiling. You can tell from the smile what we’d been
doing that morning!

It was such a beautiful Saturday: cool, blue skies, you
were driving & we were eating apricots.

As we were going through the mountains you said you
needed to stop and pulled off into a picnic area. I
needed to pee too: the coffee had gone straight through
me. An intense green grass shoulder, wire fence, cows in
the distance. Nobody’s around, no cars are coming.

I unzip and pull back my foreskin. I’m still wet and
musky from sex in your bedroom before we left that
morning: I think we’d just had the blood tests and done
The Talk, and so for the first time we’d had sex without
a condom. Oh. It was so good to touch you so intimately,
to feel every little fold of your cunt embracing me. (I
certainly understand the saying that protected sex is
like taking a shower in a raincoat.) So I had your
delicious juice drying on me, and I guess I was still
leaking out of you.

My piss splashes the ground around the fencepost.
Release, primal pleasure. I hose the ground, a little
boy again, saturating the red earth. I see you watching
from the driver’s seat and smile. It’s a little
embarrassing, but I suppose you’ve seen my body before.

You unbutton your jeans: soft little brown tummy, white
cotton G-string. I want to slide up your T-shirt, see
the mismatched bra, tweak your crinkly nipples – what a
one-track mind! I can only plead that it was our first
holiday together, and you’re the sexiest person I know.

So, you fold your knickers down, squat and balance – so
much easier to be a guy sometimes. A little puddle
moistens the dust and runs away. You make eye contact,
not bashful at all, just sit there pissing.

I’m getting hard. You always make me horny – I can just
see wiry blonde pubes and your spankable derriere – but
now the tension is heavier and somehow different. It’s a
natural bodily function I know, but… I don’t want to
look away.


In the early afternoon we arrive in Lorne. The beach is
beautiful, though in April it’s a little too cold to
swim. It has been an excellent trip. We went for a walk
through the park and picked wildflowers.

Lying in the sand dunes watching the sunset gently
cuddling each other. Very nice. Pleasure of being
outside, cool breeze, loose shorts, risk of discovery.

Neither of us mentions the moment by the side of the
road, but I think it started something.

Back in the guest house you excuse yourself to pee
before we go down to dinner and again do it shamelessly
with the door open, talking to me all the while about
plans for tomorrow.

I wondered if you were being suggestive but it would
have been the wrong time to ask. I felt turned on by the
tinkling sound; by the gentle way you wipe yourself – so
much like the way you masturbate; by your simple beauty.

You come over and stand with me. Ah, the way your
titties look naked: small, but somehow heavy, full of
feeling. I feel lucky to be with you – I still do. We’re
both looking into the mirror and I can see a smile in
your eyes. We’re very different: you’re ten inches
shorter, naturally olive and dark blonde; I am pale
skinned and hairy. I reckon we look fine in the mirror,
though. I think this weekend I started falling in love
with you.

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