The history teacher was telling us about the tragic Peterloo Massacre, and one of the other boys said “Peter’s a loo! He’s a toilet!” The teacher told the class off, but the damage was done. (Loo is a common word for toilet in Britain — based on the French l’eau.)
For nearly 17 years I had been Peter Lewis, and nobody thought anything of it. I had been bullied, but nothing to do with my name. But for the last year I was “Peter Loo” or “Peter the toilet” for the bullies and some of their hangers-on.
I got an A in history, and went to university to study it.
Unfortunately, one of the bullies went there as well (to study Politics, I think) and during Freshers’ week, called out “Hello! It’s Peter the toilet!” and said something to a group of girls, so they laughed at me.
It was a few weeks later, one of the girls in my class was talking to a friend, and pointed me out. The friend, a very attractive brunette, well above my pay grade, came over and spoke hesitantly.
“Is it true?” she said. “You like girls to pee on you?”
I couldn’t speak for a moment, but felt my face burning.
“No, it isn’t,” I finally managed to say.
“Sorry, forget I asked,” and she walked away from me, her nice bum swaying gently as she went out of my life.
I cursed my luck. All the girls would know me as a pervert. Why had she raised my hopes only to make fun of me?
I could hardly even speak to the girls in my class, let alone try to get off with them. I was destined to be the pariah, the celibate outcast. I went to one meeting of the science fiction society, which was, of course, mainly lads, so I wasn’t going to have any luck there. I went to dances in the Student Union and drank but didn’t manage to even get a dance, let alone cop a feel.
But then I got to thinking. How had she looked, when I said no? Was she disappointed that she couldn’t go back to her friends to laugh at me? Or was she actually disappointed? Did she want to pee on me?
But if she did, how hard would it be? Would I let a girl piss on me if I could fuck her afterwards? You bet I would!
No, just a fantasy to wank to.
When I occasionally saw her around, she seemed to hurry off. Embarrassed, I suppose.
Then in the library, I got my chance. We both turned up at a photocopier.
“After you,” I said, so she started.
“I’m sorry,” we both started to say, and it broke the ice a bit.
I quietly told her about being called Peter the Loo and why. She gave a wry smile.
“I had a nasty nickname, too. They called me Penny Pissypants, because I had a bladder problem.”
“Would you like to go out with me some time?” I asked.
She looked at me and smiled.
“Penny Pissypants and Peter the Loo? A match made in heaven!”
“What are you doing for lunch?” she added.
It was just a lunch in the Student Union, and we both had a free period so wandered around afterwards.
She was nice.
I was clumsy, awkward, and generally a prat. But somehow we agreed to meet again.
And next time in the evening, we kissed a bit. It progressed to tongues and a bit of a grope through clothes. Not exactly the hot sex on the first date you might imagine and I suppose every boy was hoping for. Just getting to know someone.
After several more dates, I got to know a very nice girl. I also felt her tits but not in her knickers.
No sex yet, apart from what I did before and after the date by myself.
I didn’t know how to say it. Do people just say “How about a fuck?”
With a huge effort I had managed to buy some condoms.
We were in her student apartment, sitting on the bed, when it came out. (Not that. You know what I mean.)
“It’s never happened to me,” I said, “but if you really did want to pee on someone, you could pee on me.”
“No obligation!” I added hastily, quickly followed by “I’m not saying you do, of course, I mean sorry, forget it, I’d better go!”
My cock was hard and my face was crimson as I got up, trying to hide the erection.
She was blushing as well.
“What? No, don’t go, sit down.”
She took my hand and looked down, saw my stiffness, so looked away.
She was the first to speak.
“I think it’s lovely of you to offer, anyway. But I think it’s time we had sex. Have you done it before?”
I was about to say “yes, lots of times” but realised I was talking to a girl.
“Me neither,” she said in an embarrassed way.
“But I’ve got some condoms. They were given out to all the first-year girls, and Mum gave me some as well.”
Then “Shall we, then?” “if you like” “only if you want to” “if you want to” “I want to, do you?” “Yes, I want to” “OK”.
“I suppose we’d better get undressed,” she said. “Do you want to use the toilet?”
It’s hard to pee when your cock is rock hard but I wrestled it down far enough to pee, and it started to go limp. I farted, and did not like the result, but remembered to wash my hands.
When I got out she was in a dressing gown, her clothes were neatly on a chair and batıkent escort the covers had been pulled back on her single bed.
She went into the smelly toilet, and I undressed as far as my underpants. I put my clothes on her study bench because I didn’t know what to do.
She did whatever girls do, and came out, still in her dressing gown, in a cloud of air freshener.
Shyly she took off her dressing gown to reveal a nice young woman, and at that moment the most beautiful thing in the universe. My cock started to renew its interest.
“Are you going to take your pants off?”
I hurried to comply.
“You look nice,” she said.
“You look beautiful,” I answered, kicking myself for not saying it earlier.
Think embarrassed virgins and incompetent first timers, and you’ll get the drift of the conversation before she finally managed to get me to bed. She’d seen a video of how to put on a condom, so did the honours, then lay back and waited to be transported to heaven.
When I’d finished, she said “That was nice.”
“You were wonderful!” I said.
Actually, the fucking was not as good as I had hoped, but I had the feeling it would get better.
But Penny was wonderful.
Right on top and actually inside this fabulous being was literally the best time of my life. Her face and her shapes were just the best ever.
We stayed together until I realised she was uncomfortable and got out and off.
“You have to take it off and put it in the bin, not the toilet,” she reminded me. “And wipe yourself,” as she handed me the tissues from the bedside table.
“Only would you mind not putting it in my bin? The cleaners, you know.”
I wrapped it in a tissue and put it in my pocket, where it would later ooze out. Cum gets more liquid overnight.
“You can have a pee, if you want. And you can use the green flannel.”
I went and did what she suggested.
When I came back she was lying there, naked and no longer shy.
“You know you said you’d let me pee on you? Would you really?”
I took too long to answer.
“Yes, of course.”
“Sorry, forget I asked.”
“No, really, any time, so long as I can wash afterwards.”
“If we did it now, you could shower as we’re naked anyway.”
“OK,” I said. “How do you want to do it?”
She got me to sit in the shower while she stood straddling me. She had put on a shower cap for afterwards. There wasn’t much room, but I didn’t mind the closeness of her wonderful female body.
“I’m going to try to pee on your chest,” she said apologetically. “But I can’t promise there won’t be some splashing onto your face, so you might want to turn away.”
“I’ve never done it before,” she added, nervous but excited.
I didn’t know girls could pee standing, but they can. She just opened up her pussy a bit with two fingers.
Her face showed she was concentrating as she said “Turn away, I’m starting.”
I turned away, then turned back, magnetically drawn to the sight.
There it was, a dribble coming out from the middle of all that complicated area. A girl pissing!
It was irregular but more of a jet, splashing on my legs and cock before she finally hit my chest. Then it was nearly all over as it subsided, and she leant back, eyes closed and said “Wow!”
I must have had my mouth open because I could taste it a bit.
“Sorry,” she said. “I hope it wasn’t too bad.”
“It was fine,” I answered. “Nice, actually. You can do it again.”
She stepped out so that I could stand up, and stepped back in again. There was not much room, which was not a problem as my piss-wet body rubbed against hers.
“Urgh,” she said, as she kissed me and pulled away.
“Sorry about the splashing. I think we’d better use the shower.”
Apart from the fact that I had to ask her to turn the temperature down, it was a delicious experience, rubbing our bodies together with a little shampoo. Feeling her tits and bum all slippery was especially good.
It wasn’t long before my cock was hard again.
“Come on,” she said and we quickly dried ourselves. Still damp I fucked her on the bed. Her face went pink, and she was breathing heavily as I shot my load. Much better than the first fuck!
“Whoo, that was good,” she said, as I climbed off. I knew it was better for her, which made me even happier.
As I got dressed, she said “You’d really let me do it again?”
“Any time, as often as you want,” I answered truthfully. “It didn’t hurt all.” And she laughed.
“Sorry about the face.”
“You can pee straight in my face, if you like,” I answered. “I’ll just make sure to keep my eyes and mouth closed.”
She blushed a bit, but didn’t say anything. I thought it probably appealed.
She needed to finish some work, so we had to miss two evenings.
Then she asked if it was OK not to have sex, but just talk. I supposed she might have had a period. She was just in tracksuit bottoms and a top, casual at home, with just basic makeup.
We had a soft drink each, and just talked beşevler escort about this, that and the other, before she finally got round to something.
“I didn’t really have a bladder problem, I just said I did and people were sorry for me. The truth is I’ve always liked peeing. I like peeing outdoors; I like peeing in my clothes. I never thought about peeing on someone till your friend told me you liked it, and it really got me going.”
“I was mortified when I asked you and you said you didn’t.
She stood up.
“I’m going to the bathroom now, but I’m going to keep my pants on. Would you like to see?”
She sat on the toilet, and concentrated then I could see the relief as a stain started to spread across her crotch. She smiled nervously at me. I don’t know why, but it was hypnotic.
“Oh!” she said. “It’s so much better to be watched!”
She stood up and took off her pissed clothes, putting them in a bag.
She looked adorable in just her top, with the dark wet fur of her pussy. I just had to reach for it, as she came closer, put her lips to mine and kissed me.
It was just so nice to rub. I didn’t put a finger in. I didn’t try for her clit. I was just a naïve eighteen-year-old with a first girlfriend. It felt nice and she liked it.
She stopped kissing, and closed her eyes as if she was concentrating, moved her head gently and started making little sounds. She was blushing and holding me tight. My cock was hard, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was the pleasure I could feel in this marvellous being, as I stroked her.
I didn’t entirely understand, but I guessed it was an orgasm as she reacted more strongly, then suddenly pushed me away, looking happy and panting a little.
Without thinking about it, I brought my hand to my mouth and licked it. There was an aroma and taste, a bit strange, but something I liked. Cunt and pee.
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t say anything.
Looking at my straining crotch, she said “Why don’t you drop your pants as well?”
I hurriedly did, and she took my cock in her hand.
“Oh, it’s nice. Shall I stroke it?”
We had fucked but she had never held it before.
With a bit of guidance from me she took me all the way, opening her eyes and mouth wide when I shot my first jet. (But from the side — she wasn’t stupid.)
I went to clean myself up and we called it a night.
Sadly, that was just before the Christmas break so we went off to our respective homes, and I told Mum and Dad I had met a nice girl, but it was early days.
I had been thinking over Christmas (and wanking), so when we finally got together I suggested she take her trousers off and stand in the shower, while I watched her pee her knickers. As the excess ran down her legs, I quickly put my hand there and licked it before she could stop me. Overcoming her weakening protest, I licked the piss from her thighs and she gave a little shudder.
Quickly putting a towel on the bed, she opened herself up, as I hastily put on a rubber. Then I fucked her and she came! I knew it was worth the taste of piss to give her an orgasm like this.
For our next adventure I brought a big black plastic bag (for rubbish) with my pillow in it and put it in the shower, partially over the rim. I had tried it with my own shower and it meant I could lie on my back without the rim digging in too much.
She was nervous but excited as I got her to stand over me, facing the back wall. She bent her knees and held her pussy lips apart, with two fingers leaning forward and resting on the wall a bit with her other hand. I looked up at the beautiful sight of her open cunt, gorgeous tits and smiling face.
She started to concentrate, and I closed my eyes and mouth.
It splattered but when she had got it centred on my face, I opened my mouth to feel the jet going inside. It was weird but nice. She had been drinking plenty of water so it didn’t taste at all strong. I had to close my mouth to swallow almost immediately, but opened it again. The groaning sound from her made me blink my eyes open. She had her mouth open and her eyes nearly closed with pleasure, and I drank in the sight as I drank in her piss. She smiled a little to see me looking, and opened her eyes to look at me.
I could see the stream coming out of her pee-hole. A woman pissing. Such a simple, beautiful thing. There were now two of us obsessed with peeing. Hers, of course.
“I love you,” she said as the stream petered out.
Grabbing a towel, she scampered into the other room and came back with a condom. She was trembling a little as she put it on my rock-hard cock, then tentatively lowered herself onto it. I had hardly begun to thrust in answer to her movements when she went into orgasm. I carried on furiously and as she relaxed a bit she started moving again until I came as well.
If it wasn’t for the fact that the rim of the shower was starting to get annoying despite the pillow, I could have welcomed her into my arms.
So I had to beypazarı escort say “Sorry, but could you get off?” and she climbed off.
I put the pillow outside the shower, and we both had a lovely shower together, though she wouldn’t kiss my lips even after I had wiped them with shampoo.
Within the confines of the shower, she peed all over me in various directions at different times.
I don’t want to give the impression that all we did was pee. We were a normal boy and girl getting to know each other, and with coursework to do in the evenings. We went out for a drink, a dance, a film, a social time with other students, and we stayed apart to finish work for a deadline. We talked, we kissed, we hugged, I groped, and we had sex. She had periods; I had a cold which I tried not to give to her but did. And we had sex two or three times a week, especially after she got onto the pill so we could give up condoms.
But once a week there was some piss play. That seemed the right amount for it to be special.
Eventually we decided that as it was only about a mug full, I could just as well sit or lie on the bathroom floor, and mop it up afterwards. She got some disposable cloths and floor wipes which she used the day before the cleaners came in, and discarded elsewhere.
I peed on her, but it didn’t do anything for either of us.
In the Summer I visited her home and she visited mine to the delight of my parents and the acceptance of hers. We slept together with their blessing, but didn’t really have the courage to do anything more than me putting my hand between her legs when she sat on the toilet sometimes, to take the stream.
In the second and third year we shared a flat in an old house with a big bath and shower above it.
That gave her the chance to increase her repertoire, peeing on me when I was clothed, and trying different clothing combinations herself. Mum had bought me some shirts which I never wore at university, so a shirt and tie looked formal and therefore even better. The shirts were easy to wash, but the tie had to be done by hand in the sink.
She was greatly amused by me holding my arse cheeks apart so she could piss on my bumhole! (Head resting on the trusty pillow in a bag.)
The university was not old, but the campus was on the site of a former grand house and estate. The house (Grade II* listed building 1752) and other buildings were there, but there was lots of modern student accommodation, and a park with woods open to the public. This gave us the opportunity for some outdoor pissing with people about, and with me standing guard.
It started with her simply going out in a skirt with no knickers and squatting to piss in the woods. Preferably with some people coming in our direction along a path but not quite getting round a bend to see her. Then in shorts peeing herself then covering up with a PVC skirt to get back to her room. (Visible in the distance to people in the park.)
It was good that I was watching, and better that there was nearly a chance of being seen by others.
Wearing a pleated skirt but no panties, she sat on a park bench so that it was lifted up at the back. She then peed so it dripped through the slats as we sat innocently there. The skirt wasn’t always dry as we hurried back.
Using a similar technique but wearing knickers and not having a full bladder, she peed in a quiet corner of the library. I had a towel and wipes to clean the chair, and she went to the ladies to change her knickers.
Her favourite (so kept as a special treat) was to pee into my mouth, and we got quite good at it. Eventually there came a day when she said she needed a pee and I put my mouth firmly on her. She just relieved herself and I managed it all. The taste wasn’t great, but the intimacy was, and her joy was best of all. At last, I was Peter the Loo! We didn’t do it often, and it was only when she was first aware, not when bursting
My final year history project was about the social customs and commercial importance of urination in Elizabethan England. Ladies wore no underwear so peed standing up anywhere convenient, often in church where most had earthen floors. Periodically the earth was removed and processed to make saltpetre, an ingredient of gunpowder. Men peed in earthenware vessels on the street, and urine was collected from households to be used in various processes including laundry, dyeing, tanning leather and gunpowder. The best was that from a bishop’s home, strong in nitrogen from their rich diet. I got a first-class mark!
We got our degrees and even got jobs (mine had nothing to do history, but I did work for the council department dealing with public toilets.)
Our wedding was in a nice hotel and she wore white. Afterwards she told me that she peed herself a little as she said the words “I do”. Our bedroom had a large shower with plenty of room for both of us. She never used the toilet just for peeing while we were there.
It was on the honeymoon I took the step I had been thinking of, and licked her after I had come. I had nearly done it several times before but had chickened out. Now I actually managed to lick off my own sperms. It was gradually less of an effort with practice, but she was so touched and pleased that it became routine. I can often give her an orgasm that way, and she sometimes lets go a bit of pee.