Peeing Under the Willow

(Sometimes when I'm listening to a guided meditation, my mind wanders...so I made one for us pee kink folk! I tried to make it non-gender-specific so anyone could enjoy it.) :)

You are walking alone, barefoot, through a field of soft grass and flowers. It is a warm day, with a sweet-scented breeze blowing to you from the trees that surround the grassy clearing. You feel good, with a sense of happy anticipation: you are about to indulge in one of your favorite secret pleasures.

You have drunk lots of water over the last couple of hours to be ready. It has replenished your body and made you feel whole and well. It has also filled your bladder to its utmost capacity, and as you walk along you feel an urgent need to relieve yourself, almost a desperation--but you savor it. No one is around, so it is no matter if you do happen to lose control and wet yourself. And in any case, you know you will be able to pee soon, and every second of the experience will feel wonderful.

You're wearing lightweight clothing, and you're carrying a change of clothes and a soft, old, absorbent towel. You feel a tingle of excitement when you envision how soaked the towel, and you, will be in just a little while. Your bladder is holding so much water that it aches, and it's so ready to pour it all out, all over whatever is near. You can hardly wait.

You hear water trickling as you approach the trees. It is the little stream that runs through the forest. The sound of the running water makes your body long to respond, and you pause to tighten your groin muscles, holding back the flood that tries to escape. It feels so good, holding your pee like this.

You decide to reward yourself for your successful control by taking a taste of what's to come. After a glance around to make sure you're alone there in the open field, you open your legs, standing with your feet wide apart in the grass. Carefully, slowly, you relax and let yourself pee just a little. It flows out of your body and trickles hot into your clothes. A little rivulet runs down your leg. It feels fantastic, and you moan. You make yourself stop peeing, then caress yourself between the legs with your bare hand, feeling and enjoying the new wet patch. It's warm, though cooling swiftly in the breeze. You pat your leg and groin with the towel, then resume your walk.

Under the shade of the trees, you find the stream and walk alongside it for a minute or two. Your bladder longs to release more water, but you take your time, wanting to choose the best spot for your private relief. When you pause to touch your bare toe to the stream to feel its coolness, your body cannot help reacting again. You pee in your clothes, just for another few seconds--you honestly can't help it, and you smile at how erotically exciting that is. Then you tighten your muscles and stop. You still have so much left to let out, you really have to pee, yet already your legs are very wet down their inner sides. You brush your thighs together to enjoy the sensation.

Choosing a spot under a large willow whose branches dangle into the stream, you spread your towel on the ground. You strip off your wet clothes and sit bare-bottomed on the towel, your legs loosely folded. Now you are ready for the rest of your pleasure. You slip a hand between your legs and feel your wet flesh, already swollen and sensitive with sexual excitement. Your fingertips slide around on yourself, pleasing your body and making you moan again. Then they go to the little opening where your pee will flow out.

Keeping two fingertips there, you very slowly let yourself begin peeing again. The thin, controlled leak streaks out against your fingers, fast and warm. Your water patters down onto the towel, where it gets soaked up. You can't resist: you pee a few seconds longer, at this tight, careful leak of a pace. You love how it feels, relieving yourself so slowly, feeling every drop flow from your sensitive parts, the wet patch growing on the towel and spreading warm under your bare bottom.

You tighten your muscles to stop peeing and pause to enjoy this halfway point. You stretch your legs out, spreading them apart, and look down at your genitals. You rub them lightly. They're so wet and slippery, and you ache to touch them more. You press into your bladder, too: it's still tender and big, with plenty of water in it for you to play with.

Keeping your legs apart, you expose your opening so you can see better this time as you once again, with a groan of relief, start peeing. Now your stream shoots out into the open air a fair distance before landing on the towel and creating a new wet patch there. You let your thighs fall open farther and allow yourself to pee harder, your stream becoming a torrential jet, your breath sighing in bliss.

Once again you stop the flow, even though you have more pee inside you still, and cup your hand between your legs. You stroke yourself for a while. It feels so good, and you're panting; you're bringing yourself so close to orgasm. You're so wet; everything is so wet. While your hand is there, rubbing all around your needy flesh, your pee begins to leak out again in hot little spurts and dribbles, spraying and running through your fingers. You can't stop it. Your body cannot hold it anymore; it's insisting you finish relieving yourself, and you will wet yourself and your towel thoroughly now.

In ecstasy, you give in: you tip onto your back, thighs apart, and completely let go. Your pee floods all over your thighs, your towel, your hand that is still erotically moving your genitals around in delicious caresses. As you move your flesh, some of your fast-flowing pee sprays up and runs across your hips, your belly. You gasp in pleasure, peeing your hardest yet, stroking yourself. Your hips pump upward in an urgent rhythm, and your hand moves faster and presses harder. Your stream of pee falters, and the new sensation takes over: your orgasm sweeps through you, making you shudder and pant, filling you with tingling bliss.

It lasts a long half-minute, your satisfaction wrapping around you like the willow's screening branches and the camouflaging tinkle of the stream. Then you relax on the wet towel, smiling, and slowly sit up. You look down at your parted legs and your shining wet genitals. Your bladder gives a little twinge, reminding you it's not quite empty. With a gentle push of your muscles, you urge out the last of your pee, a lovely long stream that finally drips to a stop.

Now you are completely relaxed, and you recline on the towel that is soaked with your full bladder's worth of pee, enjoying the beautiful forest and the afterglow of the treat you have given yourself. When you feel like it, you gently get up and rinse yourself and your towel and wet clothes in the cool stream. Then you sit in a patch of sun between trees to dry off, spreading out your clean, wet items beside you to dry too. You put your change of clothing on and stay as long as you'd like, maybe even dozing a while, savoring the day and feeling grateful for how good you've made yourself feel. You know you will come back here again and again, to take part in the same pleasurable, private joy.