View from the Dorm Window

I discovered my sexual fascination for peeing when I was a freshman in college.

A footpath through campus ran past my dorm, with lots of trees and shrubs, and my room's second-story window looked down into a tangle of bushes all surrounded by branches, a little space hidden from most other windows.

One spring evening around sunset I was sitting at my desk, bored and playing on my computer, and saw someone move below. I looked out.

It was a guy I'd seen around campus, maybe a year older than me. He was a bit emo or punk -- longish hair with some dye streaks, pierced ears, usually dark clothes, slim build, with a cute smile and a gentle way about him. I couldn't remember his name, if I even knew it. People said he was cool, though he seemed to have only a couple of friends he ever hung out with, and he often strolled around alone.

Now he was ducking into the little sheltered area under my window, among the bushes and branches, and he looked around. I kept my face just behind my window curtain so he didn't see me when he glanced up. What was he up to?

Apparently satisfied no one was looking, he quickly unzipped his skinny jeans and got out his dick and started peeing into a bush. He was peeing really forcefully too, I noticed in spite of my shock. Like he had to go really bad. Obviously he must have needed to, if he couldn't wait until he got back to his room or wherever he was going, and felt the need to rush aside and pee right here.

It turned me on so much, thinking of how desperate he must be, how he finally knew he couldn't hold it and had to grab the nearest place to relieve himself. And, lucky me, it was somewhere where I could watch.

I remembered feeling like that one day the week before, during a ninety-minute lecture. I'd had to pee so badly by the end, I thought I was going to flood my jeans and make a lake on the lecture hall floor. I'd made it to the bathroom, though, and peeing then had felt so amazingly good it was almost like an orgasm.

He probably felt like that right now. I could see the deep relief in his face as he kept on peeing. He took probably a whole minute to empty his bladder; I don't know exactly how long, except that I was marveling at how much he had in him. I was also aching to get a closer look at his dick, which I couldn't see in much detail, except that it seemed like a nice size. I'd never touched a guy's cock at that point or seen one in real life very close, and now I was so turned on I was dying to jump down there and take over, hold his dick for him while he pissed, see what it felt like in my grasp.

He finished and shook himself off, and tucked himself back in, then loped off swiftly. My panties were hot and wet with my juices, I realized. I wanted...what did I want? To pee? To masturbate? Well, how about both.

I jumped off my bed and went into the bathroom. In a stall, I pulled down my pants and cupped my hand between my legs as I sat on the toilet. I didn't know why, except I wanted my hand on my genitals while I peed, like his was. I released my bladder, giving myself a hot handful of pee, and let it run between my fingers into the toilet. It felt so good. My clit was hard and throbbing. When I was done peeing, I rubbed my slick folds fast, up and down and round and round, and came within seconds, so explosively I felt lightheaded afterward.

So that was the kind of thing I liked. But how was I going to find ways to see THAT regularly?

I made do with porn and fantasies for a while. Then about a year later, I ended up striking incredibly lucky. I walked into the first day of a literature class and there was that same guy. Cute smile, floppy dyed hair, skinny jeans. I took the empty desk beside his, my heart thundering. *I watched you pee one time. I saw your cock. It made me so hot.* Right, couldn't say that. I settled for "Hi."

He said, "Hey," and asked if I'd taken a class with this professor before. I hadn't, and we talked for a few minutes about the class and what we'd studied. We told each other our names -- he was Graham. The prof walked in and we shut up as class started.

But a couple of weeks later, when it came time to pick partners for a project, Graham turned to me and lifted his eyebrows in invitation. Of course I said yes.

We went a few times after class to a café to talk about the paper topic, then went to our separate rooms. We really hit it off, often getting distracted by chatting about random topics instead of the paper. Neither of us were dating anyone -- we covered that the first day -- and we sometimes had moments of long eye contact that made me feel happy and fluttery.

One day, when the café was getting extra crowded, I asked if he'd rather come back to my room where it was quieter. My roommate was a library research fiend and never came home till dinnertime or later.

He accepted and we started walking. We kept talking as usual, but he was also fidgeting.

Then he said, sort of shy, "I'm going to have to go to the bathroom first thing when we get there. I REALLY have to pee. All that coffee..."

I went completely breathless with arousal, but I just laughed and said, "Oh yeah, same. I'll let you go first, though!"

"Sweet, thanks."

Then here's where I was evil.

When we got to the dorm, I pretended to search in my bag, and gasped. "Oh no. I think I left my keys at the café. Shoot. I know it's like a fifteen-minute walk back, but do you think...no, never mind, I can't wait, can you?"

Graham looked kind of panicked. He was shifting from foot to foot. "I mean, I could try, but..."

"No, you know what, um -- here." I beckoned him around the side of the building, into the little hidden sheltered area under the trees and bushes where he had peed last year. Right under my own window.

Before he could get shy, or before I could myself, I dropped my backpack, undid my jeans, and shoved them to my knees and squatted. "Ahhh," I sighed as I started peeing on the ground. "Just do it like this. I don't care, do you?"

I knew I was blushing, but my body kept contentedly letting my pee stream out. I really did have a full bladder and it felt like sweet relief, though I could have held it a bit longer; I apparently wasn't quite as desperate as Graham.

Graham's eyes were wide and round as he stared at me. I'm sure he could only see a shadow of my privates, and part of my bare butt, but it was still way more than he would have expected to see today. And I KNEW he could hear my pee pouring onto the ground and could see the puddle it was making, which was starting to flow out between my feet.

God, this was turning me on, pissing outdoors in front of my dream guy. At least, I hoped it would turn out a good decision, would inspire him to do the same, and not just make him run away and stop talking to me forever...

He jumped into action after a couple of frozen seconds. "Yeah, sure, totally," he said, and undid his jeans. Piss shot from his cock the moment he got it out, a yellowish-clear jet hissing into a bush and clattering to the ground to form a growing puddle like the one underneath me. His dick was almost at eye level for me, even if still five feet away, and I could finally see it so much more clearly. The hole at the tip where the pee flowed out, the folds and ridges of skin, the shape of his balls under the shadow of his hand...mm, I wanted to fondle it all.

"Uhh," he groaned in appreciation. "Yeah, I really had to go. Couldn't have held it, I don't think. Glad you thought of this." He peed even harder, the stream shooting out straighter, like he wasn't holding back at all now. His shoulders lowered in relief as he let out his breath. His eyes moved to me again, and caught me staring at his cock.

I looked at his face and grinned, guilty. His gaze flickered down between my legs and he grinned too, all awkward and crooked. I wanted him so bad, I had to remind myself to breathe.

"Think I'm done," I murmured, and rose up a little with my thighs nice and parted so he could see better. "Wait..." I crouched again and peed a tiny bit more, keeping them open wide, then sighed in satisfaction. "Ahh. Now I'm done." I stood and took my time about pulling up my underwear and jeans, my face hot with excitement, knowing he was checking out my private parts.

I zipped my jeans and looked at his parts too -- still pissing, though the volume was dwindling now. He looked at himself and chuckled. "Guess I really had to pee," he said, in a tone like he was apologizing. "Shouldn't have waited so long."

"That's okay. I'm kind of liking the show."

"Yeah?" His smile grew. His cock might have a little bit also -- it did look thicker and longer than when he'd started, I thought. In fact, yeah, it looked almost hard, the way guys did in porn with their erections. Oh God, I hoped I had made him hard.

His pee trickled to a few drops, and he glanced around and stuffed himself back in his pants. "Going to get arrested if I stay like this out here, though."

"Ha, yeah. So...want to come in?"

"Got to go back for your keys first, right?"

"Oh, right. Well, actually, let me look..." I pretended to check again, and hit my forehead with my palm, and held up the keys. "I put them in a different place. Duh. Sorry!"

He shrugged, smiling and looking a lot more relaxed now. "No big deal. Problem taken care of." He sauntered over and stood very near, gazing down at me.

I looked up and smiled back. "Should we try to get some work done?" I said, coyly.

"We should try to get SOMETHING done."

I had to swallow, my throat had gone so dry with lust. I tilted my head toward the dorm and let him in.

We had my room to ourselves, as I'd hoped. We set our packs down and got out our books and notes, then just sat down, me on the bed and him on the chair, and gave each other speculative smiles.

"I guess it's kind of like...a voyeurism thing?" he said. "Watching each other?"

"And liking it. I don't know if it's voyeurism or just...a kink. I mean, like, I don't go looking into people's windows." (Just out of them, ha.)

"No, me neither. But I guess showing each other, that's different."

"Hot, even."

"Very." He glanced at his lap and shook his head. "Ugh. I still have a boner."

I licked my lips, my heart pounding. "Show me?"

He locked gazes with me, then slowly stood, undid his jeans, and pushed them down. His dick was definitely hard now, flushed red and angling up a little. He was breathing shallowly.

I was already lifting my hand toward it. "Can I?"

"Yeah," he whispered. "Please."

I closed my hand around it, fascinated --God, it was everything I'd hoped, silky and stiff and hot to the touch. I smelled guy skin and a faint touch of pee, which to be truthful only made me hornier. When I slid my hand up and down the shaft, he moaned and pushed himself into my grip. "Fuck, I'm so turned on," he murmured. "This is probably so wrong."

"I don't think it's wrong. You have no idea how wet I am right now."

He looked at me, eyes intense with interest. "Show me?"

I let go of his dick for the moment, slid back on the bed, and wriggled out of my jeans and underwear. I kicked them off onto the floor, then pulled up one knee as I sat there, to open my crotch to view -- my swollen labia, all shiny and slick. He started breathing more heavily as he looked at me.

"Of course, some of it's pee," I admitted wryly, and ran my finger from my pussy up the cleft to my clit. Touching myself there made me shudder a little. It was so sensitive, I could come from a few more strokes if I wasn't careful.

Graham sort of whimpered, then climbed onto the bed, a knee on either side of me, and spread his hand on my bare hip. "Can I?" he said. "Just to touch?"

I nodded, and opened my legs further. "Mm, please."

His fingers were bigger, longer than mine, and I twitched and moaned at how divine they felt, stroking my inner folds, so lightly at first, then firmer and harder. I was already panting by the time he brought his middle finger to my dripping pussy, and when he slid it in, I cried out at how wonderful it felt.

"Fuck," he gasped. "You're going to make me come on you."

"Then come on me." I shoved up my shirt and bra and spread my fingers on my breasts. "Right here."

He scooted up on his knees to position his cock over my boobs, still keeping one hand deep inside me and caressing me. Then he started jacking himself with the other hand -- and to see that was as intimate and sexy as seeing him pee. I felt my orgasm start building already.

Whimpering and writhing against his plunging hand, I reached up to cup his balls and squeeze the base of his shaft, feeling the damp heat there.

"Oh oh oh god ohhhh," he moaned, and jerked his head back suddenly as he jolted. Come spurted out of his cock and dripped hot onto my breasts. It felt so erotic, and I imagined his desperate jet of piss landing on me like this some day, and...

I couldn't hold back. I shattered into climax too, my hips pumping, my pussy wet and clenching around his fingers. He caressed himself and me until we both were spent, then he toppled down and lay panting beside me, our shoulders and sides touching.

"We're getting so much work done on this paper," he finally mumbled.

I reached out for the tissue box to wipe my boobs off. "So much." I handed him some tissues too, to clean his hands.

While he was doing that, I rolled onto my side and made a sorrowful face at him. "Hey. Sorry I was all weird and kinky and cornered you into having to pee outside."

He snorted a laugh. "Umm, I think it worked out fine. No apologies needed."

"Good, because, like, I think I might have to forget where I put my keys every day. An hour after giving you a twenty-four ounce latte."

He bent down and kissed me -- and it occurred to me with chagrin that we hadn't even kissed until now. "I just think it's really cool you don't mind stuff like that."

"I really truly don't mind," I promised, and kissed him lots more times for good measure.