Posted by WetLady on July 26, 1999 at 10:05
NOTE: This was inspired by a question about what celeb you'd most like to have pee fun with and what would happen. It's not true...yet. ;-)
DISCLAIMER: Ashley, as mentioned in the story, is based on real-life Celtic fiddler Ashley MacIsaac. If he (or his friends) visit this page, I hope no one is offended. It's all meant in the spirit of fun.
DISCLAIMER: Ashley, as mentioned in the story, is based on real-life Celtic fiddler Ashley MacIsaac. If he (or his friends) visit this page, I hope no one is offended. It's all meant in the spirit of fun.
BEACH STORY:
Summertime is a very special season, especially on the beaches of the east coast of New England and Canada. After months of cold, dank weather, the heat and sun are more than welcome. And a couple of the down-easters favorite summer functions are clambakes and barbeques.
Families, neighborhoods and even whole towns flock to such events. Most to just stuff themselves til bursting and enjoy the sun. But I have a third motive...a bit of wet fun!
This particular feast took place at Ashley's house and encompassed the beach across the street. Early in the day, several folk dug a pit on the beach, arranging seafood, hot rocks and seaweed; then covered the whole mass with tarp to let it cook. For the renegade (that is, non-seafood eater), a barbeque grill was also set up for burgers and 'dogs.
The day rolled on, starting about noon. Seems each new arrival or group brought a side dish, not to mention plenty of beer! We ate, we drank, we swam, then we ate and drank some more. We all dressed pretty casually, shorts and tees, some sun dresses (mine included). Ashley took out his fiddle about 6, and we all danced, then the party began to thin out. It wasn't over, but a good 3/4 of the revelers were heading home.
By 8pm, there were only a dozen or so of us, either still to full of fun to leave, or too drunk to move. It was about this time, I realized I hadn't peed since noon. With all the activity, and the sweat it generated, I hadn't had to go. But now I did, and the urge was building fast.
Casually, I wandered into the house, and over to the first floor bathroom. Locked.
"Just a sec!" came the female voice.
Not wanting to wait, I hastened up the stairs to the other bathroom. Locked again. I knocked. No answer, save for a couple of stifled moans. We'll I wouldn't get into that one soon, either someone was ill, or (as happens) some couple decided to make it a trysting spot.
Back down stairs. Still locked.
Now a male voice boomed out, "Sorry, this could take a while."
DAMN! Now I was getting a tad desperate. While debating whether to wait it out, or wander on home (about 1/4 mile away), Ashley came by and grabbed my arm, almost dragging me from the house.
"Let's walk the beach." he suggested. "The sun'll be setting in about an hour, it should be really nice right now."
I eyed him suspiciously. Did he know I was getting close to desperate? Admittedly, he did have a fondness for WS/GS, but with men, not women. I shrugged. He was probably just trying to be a good host.
We crossed the road and picked our way down to the beach...no easy task with my groaning bladder! And, as usually happens at the shore, the wind on the beach was a bit chillier, just the type to turn the pee-urge up a notch.
Ashley, being younger than me and full of energy (and beer!), ran and spun his way to the water's edge.
"Don't you love the shore?" he asked me. "It makes me want to do all sorts of crazy things!"
I saw a sly grin flash across his face and then I knew for sure. He knew I had to pee, and pee soon. I could feel the pressure building in my lower abdomen. I lightly place my hand there, best not to press to hard.
"Crazy things....like what?" I asked hesitantly.
"Oh, splash in the surf, get naked, sit on the rocks and piss myself!" he winked at me.
"You dirty bugger....you KNEW I had to go when you dragged me out here."
He nodded. Then he admitted, "You're not the only one."
He scooted down the beach, teasing me to follow him. It was pretty easy to keep up at first. But pretty soon, I was doing the crab-walk. You know how it is, thighs firmly pressed together, body half bent over, slowly moving so as not to totally flood yourself.
Ashley saw this and laughed. He came back to me. "You have to piss really bad, huh?"
I nodded. As I straightened up a bit, two tiny spurts escaped and ran down my legs.
"I'm practically pissing now, look..." I told him, indicating the tiny rivulets now running down each thigh and shin.
"Will you do it for me?" he asked.
"I can hardly NOT do it at this point." I was trying not to whine, but the pressure was fierce and the contractions were coming in a nonstop series of waves.
"Lift your dress!" he commanded. "I've never seen a woman pissing her panties."
"Well, you're about to. There's no way I can stop now!"
I spread my legs and lifted my dress. At first, just a small spurt came out, soaking my light blue panties. Then another spurt, then a small gush.
Ashley's eyes grew wide, as did his grin. By now, a good steady stream was splattering onto the beach.
"Stop! Stop! Can you stop?!" he gasped, seeming short of breath.
"Uh, yeah...mmmmm" I bore down on my muscles and managed to cut off the flow, "There. Why?"
He turned and pointed to a rock jetty. "Sit there, sit on the rock, I'll sit below you. Please? That would be so hot!" he seemed to be acting like a small boy in a toy store.
"Ok, sure." I gingerly clambered up the rocks, dribbling a small bit as I went. I reached a nice flat one, some what sticking out over the others. "Here? This one?"
Ashley mutely nodded, and took his place in the niche just below and slightly in front of me.
I sat down near the edge of the rock, my knees spread and hugging the sides. I pulled back my dress, flashing him my sopped crotch. "Ready?"
"Yeah" he squeaked.
I pressed down hard, too hard at first, and the first spurts bounced off the rock and back at me! I let up a bit, and soon a sheeting flow was running off the rock face, accompanied by some small trickles on each leg.
Leaning back, I let the warmth of the piss envelope my lower half, while relief flushed through the rest of me. I began to breathe hard, almost coming to climax. Almost but not quite. Sure, if I touched myself, I would have gone off in a second. But I wanted more. I wanted to see Ashley piss himself. The thought of it made me shudder.
Looking down, I could see him gazing up at me. My piss splattered around him in drops and spitted around him in a fine mist. He looked distinctly damp (a dampness one could attribute to the ocean spray, but I knew differently). As he sat, I noticed one hand outstretched to catch the golden drops, the other busily rubbing and squeezing his crotch.
‘Please,' I said to myself, let him have to go as badly as I did.
Summertime is a very special season, especially on the beaches of the east coast of New England and Canada. After months of cold, dank weather, the heat and sun are more than welcome. And a couple of the down-easters favorite summer functions are clambakes and barbeques.
Families, neighborhoods and even whole towns flock to such events. Most to just stuff themselves til bursting and enjoy the sun. But I have a third motive...a bit of wet fun!
This particular feast took place at Ashley's house and encompassed the beach across the street. Early in the day, several folk dug a pit on the beach, arranging seafood, hot rocks and seaweed; then covered the whole mass with tarp to let it cook. For the renegade (that is, non-seafood eater), a barbeque grill was also set up for burgers and 'dogs.
The day rolled on, starting about noon. Seems each new arrival or group brought a side dish, not to mention plenty of beer! We ate, we drank, we swam, then we ate and drank some more. We all dressed pretty casually, shorts and tees, some sun dresses (mine included). Ashley took out his fiddle about 6, and we all danced, then the party began to thin out. It wasn't over, but a good 3/4 of the revelers were heading home.
By 8pm, there were only a dozen or so of us, either still to full of fun to leave, or too drunk to move. It was about this time, I realized I hadn't peed since noon. With all the activity, and the sweat it generated, I hadn't had to go. But now I did, and the urge was building fast.
Casually, I wandered into the house, and over to the first floor bathroom. Locked.
"Just a sec!" came the female voice.
Not wanting to wait, I hastened up the stairs to the other bathroom. Locked again. I knocked. No answer, save for a couple of stifled moans. We'll I wouldn't get into that one soon, either someone was ill, or (as happens) some couple decided to make it a trysting spot.
Back down stairs. Still locked.
Now a male voice boomed out, "Sorry, this could take a while."
DAMN! Now I was getting a tad desperate. While debating whether to wait it out, or wander on home (about 1/4 mile away), Ashley came by and grabbed my arm, almost dragging me from the house.
"Let's walk the beach." he suggested. "The sun'll be setting in about an hour, it should be really nice right now."
I eyed him suspiciously. Did he know I was getting close to desperate? Admittedly, he did have a fondness for WS/GS, but with men, not women. I shrugged. He was probably just trying to be a good host.
We crossed the road and picked our way down to the beach...no easy task with my groaning bladder! And, as usually happens at the shore, the wind on the beach was a bit chillier, just the type to turn the pee-urge up a notch.
Ashley, being younger than me and full of energy (and beer!), ran and spun his way to the water's edge.
"Don't you love the shore?" he asked me. "It makes me want to do all sorts of crazy things!"
I saw a sly grin flash across his face and then I knew for sure. He knew I had to pee, and pee soon. I could feel the pressure building in my lower abdomen. I lightly place my hand there, best not to press to hard.
"Crazy things....like what?" I asked hesitantly.
"Oh, splash in the surf, get naked, sit on the rocks and piss myself!" he winked at me.
"You dirty bugger....you KNEW I had to go when you dragged me out here."
He nodded. Then he admitted, "You're not the only one."
He scooted down the beach, teasing me to follow him. It was pretty easy to keep up at first. But pretty soon, I was doing the crab-walk. You know how it is, thighs firmly pressed together, body half bent over, slowly moving so as not to totally flood yourself.
Ashley saw this and laughed. He came back to me. "You have to piss really bad, huh?"
I nodded. As I straightened up a bit, two tiny spurts escaped and ran down my legs.
"I'm practically pissing now, look..." I told him, indicating the tiny rivulets now running down each thigh and shin.
"Will you do it for me?" he asked.
"I can hardly NOT do it at this point." I was trying not to whine, but the pressure was fierce and the contractions were coming in a nonstop series of waves.
"Lift your dress!" he commanded. "I've never seen a woman pissing her panties."
"Well, you're about to. There's no way I can stop now!"
I spread my legs and lifted my dress. At first, just a small spurt came out, soaking my light blue panties. Then another spurt, then a small gush.
Ashley's eyes grew wide, as did his grin. By now, a good steady stream was splattering onto the beach.
"Stop! Stop! Can you stop?!" he gasped, seeming short of breath.
"Uh, yeah...mmmmm" I bore down on my muscles and managed to cut off the flow, "There. Why?"
He turned and pointed to a rock jetty. "Sit there, sit on the rock, I'll sit below you. Please? That would be so hot!" he seemed to be acting like a small boy in a toy store.
"Ok, sure." I gingerly clambered up the rocks, dribbling a small bit as I went. I reached a nice flat one, some what sticking out over the others. "Here? This one?"
Ashley mutely nodded, and took his place in the niche just below and slightly in front of me.
I sat down near the edge of the rock, my knees spread and hugging the sides. I pulled back my dress, flashing him my sopped crotch. "Ready?"
"Yeah" he squeaked.
I pressed down hard, too hard at first, and the first spurts bounced off the rock and back at me! I let up a bit, and soon a sheeting flow was running off the rock face, accompanied by some small trickles on each leg.
Leaning back, I let the warmth of the piss envelope my lower half, while relief flushed through the rest of me. I began to breathe hard, almost coming to climax. Almost but not quite. Sure, if I touched myself, I would have gone off in a second. But I wanted more. I wanted to see Ashley piss himself. The thought of it made me shudder.
Looking down, I could see him gazing up at me. My piss splattered around him in drops and spitted around him in a fine mist. He looked distinctly damp (a dampness one could attribute to the ocean spray, but I knew differently). As he sat, I noticed one hand outstretched to catch the golden drops, the other busily rubbing and squeezing his crotch.
‘Please,' I said to myself, let him have to go as badly as I did.
(to be continued in a day or so!)
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