Stella at Strawberry Bank

Stella Sancini began working on my floor at Liberty Mutual in Portsmouth, New Hampshire, in May of last year. She is an actuary and I work as a claims adjustor. We're both 26. I'm a fairly conservative, inexperienced person. Stella is a free spirit. The kind of girl who likes to laugh, tells a great story, and wants a taste from everyone's plate when the gang goes out for lunch or dinner. Many of the other employees on our floor are 40 to 60 years old, so Stella and I are the little sister and brother of the group.

Most of the other employees are married or in long term relationships, some with kids, some with parents in failing health, and so on. Stella is Italian and derives great pleasure from every facet of life, including work. She is passionate, focused and determined.

In addition to her fantastic personality and positive outlook, she is gorgeous. She's about 5'6" and weighs about 125; a healthy weight. She's a little curvy and very proportional -- round shoulders, medium breasts, wide hips, pear shaped butt. She wears a lot of thin sweaters and pleated skirts at work -- usually light colored tops with black or brown skirts. The ruffles make her butt look bigger than it probably is, but she dresses very stylishly. Her skin is flawless and she wears little or no makeup - at least you can never tell if she is wearing makeup. She accessorizes with bangles and kinky bracelets and is always impressively dressed.

My fashion sense is non-existent and I stick to the basics -- black or khaki pants and long sleeve Oxford button down shirts with simple, solid ties.

Although Stella has always been friendly with me at work and on occasional group outings and conferences, I considered her way out of my league. I'm the kind of guy who's still in high school socially -- occasional dates that never develop into anything.

So I was quite surprised last June when Stella casually invited me to join her at one of the outdoor summer concerts at Strawberry Bank.

Always Mr. Smooth, I blurted out something along the lines of: "ME?"

"Sure," she laughed and flashed a disarming smile. "It's an alternate folk band. Right up your alley Ray."

"That's kind of you to think of me," I stammered.

"Listen, Tiger, it doesn't have to be a date or anything. We'll go as friends. Come on. I don't want to go alone."

"All right," I said, "deal."

Stella was perched on the edge of my desk, hovering over me. I spun a little in my chair. She teasingly placed her hand on the back of my hand and slipped hers towards my wrist.

"Looking forward to it," she smiled.

A few weeks later we caught a quick dinner at a Thai restaurant on State Street and then headed to the Strawberry Bank outdoor stage on the edge of Prescott Park. The concert venue is a beautiful outdoor cement stage with a full brick building directly behind, carved out of a lightly wooded park on the edge of a bay.

The concert stage is built at the edge of a sloping hill. There's room for about fifty people to stand on the flat ground in front of the stage. Everyone else spreads blankets on the hillside.

I grabbed a blanket from the back seat of my Civic but Stella just giggled, took the blanket from me, and threw it back in the car.

"We'll be right in front of the stage," she said. "It's the only way to experience the Biscuit Brothers."

I was dressed as if I had just left the office -- khaki pants, blue shirt, navy tie. Stella was dressed to the nines, with a sleeveless white silk blouse and shorter than usual red skirt. I felt like a stud weaving through the crowd behind this beautiful young woman. She smelled faintly of cinnamon and wore a beautiful gold necklace and matching earrings.

The band came out and played a symphony of wonderful songs with lively guitars, a stinging banjo, and a mournful violin. Stella swayed to the music and sang along. She apparently had every song memorized. The loud music ringing in my ears, combined with the giant band members towering over us on the stage directly overhead, was overwhelming. I began to loosen up and feel a singular, rare joy -- like riding the junior high school bus sitting next to a girl you secretly desire.

The one problem with the Strawberry Bank venue is the lack of bathrooms. There are none, just a line of port-a-potties a few hundred yards from the stage on the left. There are always far more people at these concerts than available portable johns. To the right of the stage is a large stand of evergreen trees with the branches removed to a height of seven or eight feet. It didn't take long for the male attendants of these concerts to turn the treed area into an outdoor urinal, complete with layers of pine needles to neutralize the smell.

Halfway through the concert I noticed Stella squirming a bit. A few minutes later she was hopping on a foot, looking furtively at the port-a-potties and the long lines in front of each. She noticed that I had sized up her situation.

"If I don't pee soon I'm gonna explode," she said. "I mean I'm about to pee my panties."

I looked at her helplessly. "Sorry?" I said weakly.

"Come on," she said and grabbed my hand. "I gotta use the bushes."

I hesitated.

"Come on," she said, "you can stand guard."

We weaved through the crowd and hit the edge of the patch of pine trees. A row of men stood in the semi-darkness and the sound of urine splashing of the pine needles competed with the fading sound of the stage music. Stella pulled me around the corner of the stage. In the back corner the bricks curved around into the darkness. A large lilac tree was planted near the corner and formed a shelter between the stage and the stand of pine trees. Men were moving into position all around us, unzipping, and letting it fly without paying any attention to us or the other men in the area.

"This is good," Stella said and ducked behind the lilac bush.

I turned my back to her and tried "stand guard" next to the lilac.

I heard her rustling her clothes and then she said: "Aren't you going to watch?"

I had no idea whether she was kidding or testing me or what so I said "no" indignantly.

"Come on, Ray, when are you gonna get a chance like this again?"

Her logic was impeccable.

"Well, if you insist."

I whirled around. Stella had removed her panties and had them bunched in her left hand. She had also twisted up her short red skirt and was holding it in the same hand. She half stood, half squatted and looked me straight in the eyes. It was semi-dark but there was enough ambient light for me to see her thick black bush. Her pubic hair was dark black, like the hair on her head, but it was long and silken, not curly. She giggled.

The music stopped and the leader of the Biscuit Brothers began to tell a detailed story from the road. The sound of 50 men pissing in the vicinity was suddenly much louder. Now I had an urgent need to pee. I looked squarely into Stella's beautiful eyes, then down to her gorgeous pussy. She dropped her head to concentrate on the business at hand. She took her right hand and used two fingers to spread her pussy lips.

A stream of urine exploded from her cunt. She took a deep breath while it flowed in a strong stream and bounced off the ground. "Oh God, that feels good," she moaned.

I started to lose a little pee in my pants. I was about to turn away a pee myself but I couldn't take my eyes off the stream shooting from her beautiful pussy. When I ran out of time I unzipped my pants in front of her and whipped out my semi-erect cock.

"Atta boy," she joked and sized up my cock.

I relaxed and began to pee. Unfortunately I had not figured out the trajectory based on the "hard on" factor. My stream shot from my dick and nearly went all over Stella's blouse. She moved her shoulder and the urine just missed.

"Whoa," she said.

I quickly slapped my hand on the top of my dick and managed to redirect the stream to a spot just in front of hers, right between her legs. She had been pissing for at least a minute before I started and she kept going for almost a minute after I finished.

When her stream finally dried up she took her hand and slapped the top of her pussy a few times, then moved her hand back and forth to force out the last few drops. Just then the band began playing another loud song.

"My favorite song," she said with a smile.

Stella kept shaking her pussy lips and examining the panties in her left hand as if considering whether to use them to wipe her cunt. I wished I had a hanky with me but alas I did not. Stella closed her eyes and sang along with the echoing lyrics of the song.

I was so entranced my dick was still hanging out of my pants minutes after I had finished peeing. Stella opened her eyes for a second and took a good look at my sagging dick. Then her right hand began to gently rub the hair on the top of her pussy. Seconds later I watched her bury her middle finger in her pussy and begin to explore. It took me a minute to comprehend what this was turning into.

Her breathing got deeper and faster. I couldn't take my eyes off her, in the shadows, as she switched from fingering herself to rubbing her clit it wide, slow circles. She sang louder and louder as she teased her clit, punctuated with occasional moans.

For a second she opened her eyes and looked at my stiff dick. "You just gonna watch?"

Then she closed her eyes (well, most of the way) and began to slap her pussy and attack her clit with furious strokes. I grabbed my cock and began to pump it with all I had. The song ended and the sound of the other men pissing in the woods next to us increased. The combination of the sound of pissing in the night, the knowledge that all those men had their dicks in their hands just yards away, and the sight of Stella going off on her pussy drove me crazy. I wanted to close my eyes and lean back and enjoy it but I could not take my eyes of the beautiful woman squatting before me, her red skirt now tucked into its waist band, her breasts swaying underneath her silk blouse.

The band launched into another song just as Stella began to cum. She opened her eyes wide and began screaming. I mean screaming bloody murder. A number of the men near us clearly heard her cries and the sound of pissing dissipated and was replaced by a few grunts of inquiry.

Stella finished her multiple orgasms and looked at me with an enormous smile. That smile brought me to the brink.

"Come here," she said.

I waddled forward, dick in hand, pumping furiously. She guided me to a spot two inches from her face, leaned her head back, opened her mouth wide, and stuck out her tongue just underneath my cock. At that moment I would have made a deal with the devil to have her take my cock in her mouth. But that was not to be. She smiled again and I lost it.

I stopped pumping and pulled my cock as far forward as possible. The cum shot out of me like a firehouse. The first shot hit her right on the forehead and slid down her nose. The second blasted off her cheek. Then a rhythmic brigade squirted from my dick and landed on her tongue and lips. I seemed to cum for longer than I had peed. The initial explosion had been so great I feared my cock had blown up.

I finished cumming and quickly slipped my cock back into my pants, suddenly afraid we would get caught. I looked at Stella. Her face was covered in cum. She hadn't swallowed a drop. She merely let it slide of her tongue.

"Oh," she said. "Gotta go a little more."

She squatted and began to piss again with another strong stream. Her golden stream splashed on the ground and mixed with the white cum that had dripped off her tongue moments before. The site of her pissing into the puddle of cum on the ground while her face was covered with cum is something I will never forget.

She finished and stood up three quarter of the way. She used her panties to wipe the cum off her face. She was about to use them to wipe her pussy, but stopped and said: "Whoops, better not do that."

Then she grabbed my hand and squeezed it and said: "Let's get outta here. Guys are pissing all around us. It's disgusting."

She dumped her panties into a trash can and we returned to our spot in front of the band. She swayed, sang along to the music, and occasionally grabbed my hand or leaned on my shoulder. I spent the rest of the evening replaying the entire scene and taking secret joy in the fact that I knew she was sporting a bare ass and pussy underneath that short skirt.

The concert ended and we walked back to my car. She held my hand and swayed over the sidewalk, enraptured by the stars and the echo of the concert in her head. We drove to her apartment in silence.

I parked in front, wondering what was going to happen the rest of that evening; at the office the following Monday, and in our future.

She sat for a moment in the car, letting the evening crystalize. "That was wonderful," she said, "really great."

She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

"See buddy," she said, "that wasn't so bad, was it?"

She jumped out of my car, gave me a gentle wave, and disappeared into her apartment building.