This story is written for, and dedicated to, my very special darling Vikka
I’m waiting full of anticipation when you get off the train, and my heart leaps when I see you standing at the end of the platform, your bag in your hand. I resist the temptation to run down the platform and leap into your arms, because maybe that wouldn’t be very dignified, even though that’s what I want to do. It’s lovely that you have been able to get away to visit me for a few days, and I have been planning for ages what we should do. I don’t want to waste a moment of this rare chance to spend some time with you, and by meeting out here in the country we can have a nice afternoon together before travelling back together to my flat in town.
You look lovely in your pretty summer dress, with a little red bra underneath. I feel naughty for noticing that, but I can’t help looking. I’ve got a nice t-shirt on, and a pair of slightly-too-short shorts that show off quite a lot of thigh. I wasn’t sure if they’d be the right thing to wear or not, but I’m glad I did, because they make me feel sexy and confident. I go to kiss you on your cheek, but you move your head to kiss my lips and that makes me a bit shy and nervous all of a sudden. So I’m all confused for a moment, and I’m glad when you ask me where the car is and where we’re going and what we’re having for lunch, and by the time I’ve answered your questions we’re at the car and its time to go.
As we arranged, I’ve prepared a picnic, with all sorts of little treats and goodies. It’s a hot day, so I’ve brought two big bottles of water, and I see you’ve brought some as well, so we’ll have plenty to drink. That’s important. Because it’s a hot day. And because of what we’ve got planned for later.
You throw your bag in the boot and sit next to me in the front. I prattle on about what a nice day it is and how it’s going to be fun taking you to my favourite swimming spot on the river and how nobody much else knows about it so it’ll be nice and quiet. You swig from your big bottle of water and a bit of it trickles down your chin and drips onto the bare skin above your boobs. But I know I mustn’t look at you too much because I’m driving and I don’t want us to end up in a ditch or wrapped round a tree.
We arrive and I park the car up on the verge. It is still a few minutes walk to the swimming spot, and I’m quite warm when we get there. I say do you want to eat first or swim, and you say you’re starving so I unpack the picnic basket. You laugh at me for having a proper wicker basket with a rug and proper knives and forks and plastic plates and stuff, but I don’t care because I love making a fuss and doing things nicely for you.
I’ve made a nice healthy salad, though it’s a bit messy eating cross-legged on the rug, and you make fun of me some more by asking where the folding armchairs and table are, so I throw a cherry tomato at you and for a moment it looks as if there might be an all-out food fight but we calm down and finish eating. All the time we’re drinking lots of water, which is nice on such a hot day, but of course that’s not the only reason we’re doing it.
When we’ve finished you say you want to swim now and I joke that my mum would say we shouldn’t swim so soon after eating but you say it’s never done you any harm. It’s funny, but we’re quite shy putting on our swimsuits. You have a blue one-piece, and you slip your panties off and pull your swimsuit up underneath your dress, pushing your dress up over your head. I know you’re doing it to tease me, and you turn your back to stop me getting even a glimpse of your bare boobs as you pull your swimsuit up over them. You look nice in it, the tight material clinging tightly to your body. I enjoy looking at the curve of your back.
Two can play at that game, so I put a towel round my waist as I pull my shorts and panties off and pull on my bikini pants. I take my bra off and put my bikini top on under my t-shirt, while you giggle and pretend not to look. It’s a sensible bikini that’s meant for swimming, not just for sunbathing and showing off your boobs.
To show off, I do a runner along the bank and jump into the deep water with a splash, like I’ve been doing since I used to come here as a kid with my family. You pretend to be nervous and slip slowly off the bank into the water, complaining about how cold it is, though it’s obvious you swim like a fish as you disappear underwater for what seems like ages before coming up beside me.
We splash about for a while, diving into the clear water and generally having a laugh. The water feels lovely, even if it is a bit cold, and I like looking at the goose-bumps that have come up on your skin. I can feel my nipples getting all hard with the cold, pressing against the cups of my bikini.
Seeing you in your swimsuit is making me feel horny and I don’t think I can wait any longer to have you. I splash over to you and grab you round the waist and pull you against me, kissing you hard. I rub my cheek against yours and whisper to you that I think I want you now. You press your palm against my pubic mound under the water and squeeze my crotch with your hand. That makes me want to pee, but I’m not going to do it in the water. You whisper to me that you’re ready.
We splash out of the water and scramble up the bank onto the grass. You turn towards me, and slip the right strap of your swimsuit off your shoulder, then the left one. One at a time, you wriggle your arms thorough until you are standing there with the straps hanging by your sides. Your swimsuit is tight, squashing your breasts flat against your chest, their perfect smooth curves marred only by the little round humps of your nipples. You ask me to pull the cups down.
Tenderly, I pull down your swimsuit over your breasts. They wobble slightly as they spring free and take their usual shape, and my breathe catches in my wind-pipe as I gaze at your little mounds, paler than the rest of your skin, surrounded by faint tan lines like contour lines on a map. Your slightly darker nipples look very large. The sun is shining on them, giving every little dimple of your areola its own tiny shadow.
Your thighs are pressed together and I can see a small patch of moisture at your crotch which might be sexual fluid or might be pee. It’s hard to tell.
You’re blushing as you twist your toes into the grass, your thighs trembling. You look at me with desire and pleading in your eyes.
“I can’t hold it any longer, Annie. I really need to pee.”
“Do it in your swimsuit. I want to see your pee running down your legs.”
“That’s what I want, Annie. I want to feel it too. I really need to do it though.”
“That’s good. Let it go, my dearest.”
I see you relax your muscles, and all at once the tiny wet patch spreads across the front of your swimsuit. For a second it looks as if the material will hold it in, but then the force and quantity of the long held-in pee takes over and out it all comes. Very pale yellow in colour, it streams out in several directions at once, some of it gushing out from the sides of your swimsuit and running down your legs, some of it streaming out from the front of your swimsuit, forming a steady torrent from between your legs.
I put my hand between your legs and catch your pee in the palm of my hand, letting it form a small pool in my palm before overflowing and running out over the sides like a garden water feature. It is warm and mildly-scented. I breathe in the aroma. For some primitive reason that I cannot explain it arouses me and fills me with desire. I can feel my own pee swelling in my bladder. I know that soon it will be my turn.
Long streams of pee flood over your thighs and down your pale legs, before splashing off your feet and disappearing into the grass. I take hold of the gusset of your swimsuit and pull it to one side so I can see the pee flowing freely. Your bush is soaking with pee and I can see the folds of your labia curled like petals round your vulva. The steady flow forms an arc from your urethra, ebbing and flowing slightly as your bladder empties and you clench your muscles to force the last fluid out. I watch entranced as the flow gently subsides to a trickle, leaving a last few drops clinging to your labia.