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Regular readers of this series may remember how I first asked Vanessa to let me watch her piss during our honeymoon. At first she had been embarrassed about doing this, but I told her that she mustn’t be ashamed of anything to do with her body, and she soon grew comfortable with it. I pissed in front of her too, and sometimes got her to hold my dick as I did it.
I could hardly stop there, though. My ongoing project of corrupting my beautiful, shy young wife demanded that I continually raise the stakes, and my next challenge was to get her to piss in public.
The first time happened quite spontaneously. It was a hot, sunny day, and we had been down at the local shopping centre doing our weekly grocery shop. We were walking along the street laden with shopping bags when Vanessa said, “I’ve got to find a toilet — I need to wee.”
“Why don’t you do it here?”
Vanessa looked horrified. “Here? I can’t do it here. People will see me.”
“So what? No-one will care. Victorian women used to piss in the streets all the time. That was one of the advantages of those big skirts.”
“But I don’t have a big skirt,” she said.
We walked on a little bit. Vanessa was clearly getting more uncomfortable. “I really need to go,” she said.
“Well, go,” I said.
“I can’t. I just can’t. Not here.”
“Come on, people get caught short. They’ll think you couldn’t help it.”
We were standing on a corner. Vanessa had her legs together, and was looking around in desperation. There were quite a few other people walking up the street, nobody taking any particular notice of us, of course, and cars passing.
“Go on,” I said.
Vanessa was wearing a navy blue, knee-length cotton dress, and I knew she didn’t have panties on. With a look of resignation on her face, she stood with her feet apart. Almost immediately a thick stream of yellow piss hit the pavement, making a surprisingly loud noise. At least two people saw it — an Italian-looking guy who did a doubletake as he walked past, and an old woman who looked disgusted. When she had finished, there was a puddle about two feet wide on the pavement.
“Oh, let’s get home,” she said, starting to walk quickly. There were damp patches down the front and back of her dress and it was obvious that she had pissed herself. A few people noticed it as we walked along.
We got back to our house about ten minutes later, went in to the kitchen and dropped our shopping bags on the floor. Watching Vanessa pissing in the street had been exciting, and I had a hard-on.
I knelt down in front of her. I pressed my face against the front of her dress, where it was damp, and breathed in the pissy smell. Then I pulled the dress up. Vanessa had her back to a bench, and I began to lick her shaved pussy, which tasted of urine.
“Can you piss some more?” I asked her.
“Um, I don’t know. Maybe.”
“Good,” I said. I looked up at her. “Because I want you to piss in my mouth.” I’d thought about getting her to do this for a while, not really sure what it would be like.
“Oh,” she said, looking a little taken aback.
I stood up, unzipped my jeans and got them off, then knelt down in front of her again with my hard cock in my hand. I gave her pussy a bit more of a licking, then lay on the floor and got her to squat over me. Her beautiful cunt gaped pink and open a few inches from my face. I could make out her pee-hole, saw the pink flesh palpitating, and then some hot yellow pee squirted out which I caught in my mouth. It had a strong, acrid taste, but I liked it. “More,” I said, and a thicker stream gushed out which almost filled my mouth. I held it there for a moment, savouring it, then swallowed it in one gulp.
A few more drops fell on my chin, then Vanessa said, “I can’t do any more.”
I casino siteleri stood up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. “You need to drink some more,” I said. I was mad for Vanessa’s piss now, and wanted nothing more than to drink it. I went to the fridge and got out a bottle of beer and poured two glasses.
After an hour or so of beer-drinking, Vanessa said she needed to pee again. I told her to wait a bit, I wanted her to be able to really piss a lot. Another half an hour and she said she couldn’t hold on any longer.
I led her into the bathroom. We stripped off our clothes and I spread a towel on the floor and lay on it on my back. Vanessa squatted over me again. And then it was happening — a beautiful stream of piss, a lighter yellow than before but as copious as she had done on the street, rained down upon my face and into my mouth. I had to close my eyes, and could feel it getting into my hair.
Piss play became a regular part of our sex life after that. I enjoyed pissing on Vanessa, too, pissing in her mouth and on her hair and clothes. It was lovely to see her beautiful face splashed with urine, to use her as my toilet. Sometimes, after fucking her cunt or arsehole, I would leave my cock in her until it went limp, then piss inside her. It felt lovely, the warm piss flooding around my cock and balls and dripping out of her.
One night we were at a restaurant, seated at a table in the corner, when I had a lecherous idea. Unzipping my pants I got my cock out and pissed into a wine glass under the table, which I handed to Vanessa. She was drinking it when the waitress came over to take our order. I was so excited by this that I couldn’t help myself and masturbated surreptitiously until I came, my sperm spurting onto the floor.
Of course I recorded a lot of this activity in photographs. We spent one Saturday afternoon wandering around our suburb, with Vanessa drinking bottles of water and pissing in various places, including a park and on a train station as I photographed her. I posted these photos on various websites, leaving our email address, and received a lot of comments which I showed to Vanessa.
Then I got an email from a guy called Gary, who said he was a professional photographer. He had received a commission from a European publisher famous for high-class porn to do a book of photos of girls pissing in public. He’d seen Vanessa’s photos and wanted to know if Vanessa would be in the book.
I told Vanessa about it and showed her some of the samples of his work that Gary had sent. “It’ll be like an art book,” said. “I think it will be great.”
“Will it be in shops?” she asked.
“Well, maybe not here, but in Europe. You’ll be a star.”
I arranged for Gary to come over one Saturday morning. He was a slim, good-looking guy in his early thirties with curly blond hair, and he brought a load of photographic equipment, reflecting screens and so on. From the pictures he had sent, I knew he was a good photographer, and I was really looking forward to the session.
I cracked open some beers and the three of us sat in the kitchen for a while, getting to know each other. He’d brought a portfolio with him, which included shots of two other girls that he had taken for the book. He explained his brief — that the girls had to be pretty, ‘next-door’ types, and they had to look like they were having fun. He had certainly achieved this with the shots he showed me. I was particularly taken with the photos of one smiling, innocent looking girl who was shown sitting on a toilet with her panties around her ankles and thick stream of piss gushing out of her into the bowl.
Before we began, Gary got a tape recorder out to ask Vanessa a few questions — each of the photo sections in the book would include excerpts of interviews canlı casino with the models, talking about why they found pissing in public a turn-on. “It’s embarrassing sometimes,” Vanessa told him. “But it’s exciting too, especially when I know someone might be watching. It’s so bad of me. My mum and dad would be so shocked.”
Then we went into our bedroom so Gary could choose some clothes for Vanessa to wear. He picked out several outfits — a pale blue, sleeveless cotton dress; a short tartan dress; a cheesecloth slip and a red T-shirt and blue jeans, along with some suspenders and white stockings and an assortment of panties.
Gary asked her to she wear the blue dress first. Vanessa pulled off the dress she was wearing, leaving her naked apart from a pair of red panties. Gary looked at her body appraisingly. “Uh, I think put these on,” he said, picking up a pair of white lace panties and handing them to her. She removed the red ones and put the lace ones on, then the white stockings and suspenders, and finally the blue dress. She had her hair in pigtails and asked Gary if he wanted her to change that, but he said no, she looked fine.
I had suggested we start in the alley at the back of our house. We helped Gary carry his gear there, and he began to walk up and down, looking around for places to shoot. There were a few cars parked in the alley, which ended a few hundred meters away at a street where people could be seen walking.
Gary decided to start by taking some shots of Vanessa walking up this street, surrounded by other people. We then returned to the alley, where he had Vanessa stand on a step with her back against a brick wall and hike her skirt up. He knelt in front of her so the camera was pointing up to her. “Okay, darling, you ready?” he asked. “You look gorgeous, you really do. Um, now look to the side, as if you’re worried about someone seeing you. And I think for this one, pull the panties aside.” He began snapping shots.
Vanessa, holding her skirt up with one hand, pulled the lace panties aside with her other hand, exposing her pussy, which she had shaved that morning. She had a look of great concentration on her face, and at first nothing happened. “It’s okay, darling,” Gary said. “Just let it flow.” A little pee trickled out, and then a thick stream of it, pale yellow, that splashed loudly on the pavement.
“That’s it,” Gary purred. “Beautiful. Okay, stop, let’s not waste it. Now, maybe, take the knickers off and squat down.”
Vanessa got off the step, pulled her damp panties down and handed them to me (I put them to my mouth, smelling and licking them). She squatted, legs apart, her dripping cunt nicely open and vulnerable looking, and he took some more shots, not stopping until she had emptied her bladder.
I cracked open another beer and handed it to Vanessa. She was, of course, under orders to keep drinking.
I mentioned the park where Vanessa and I had often taken photos. By the time we got there she said she was ready to pee again. She went into a thicket of bushes to change her clothes, emerging with the tartan dress on. There were a few people at the other end of the park — a couple of kids kicking a ball around and an old couple sitting on a bench. Gary was keen to get them into the shots.
Vanessa was now wearing a pair of white cotton panties, and Gary wanted to photograph her pissing through them. We walked over to a set of swings and Vanessa sat down on one of them. Gary took a few shots of her swinging, then she parted her legs and began to piss. She was laughing, and the pee was flying everywhere. When she had finished, he took a few close-ups of her crotch. The soaked panties were almost see-through so you could clearly see her slit.
We all had another beer — Vanessa was getting tipsy now. I kaçak casino suggested that she next put the jeans on and piss in them and walk down the street. Gary though that was a great idea. Vanessa disappeared into the thicket again and came out wearing the jeans and T-shirt. After waiting about fifteen minutes for her to get ready, we walked through the park to a fairly busy street with cars going down it and a few shops. Gary again took a few establishing shots of her, then told her to pee. She stood still, staring off into the distance with a half-smile on her face, and a dark patch appeared on her crotch which slowly spread down the insides of her legs as Gary snapped away. He then followed her as she walked up the street, attracting the curious and occasionally shocked glances of passersby.
We returned to our house, and went into the garden to take a few last shots. Vanessa, quite drunk now, stripped again and pulled on the cheesecloth shift. She started to skip around, holding up the shift — she was naked beneath it, and then he photographed her from various angles as she pissed on a flower bed, her bare tits hanging out.
Gary expressed great satisfaction with how the shoot went. “You’re adorable,” he said to Vanessa.
“I don’t know about you, but I need to pee, too,” I said, unzipping my pants and pulling my dick out. I walked over to Vanessa, who was sitting on a garden chair, the cheesecloth shift hiked up and her pussy showing.
“Want to join me?” I said.
“Why sure, if that’s okay with you, Vanessa.”
“Yes,” she said, a dreamy look on her face.
I pointed my cock at her and began to piss on her face. She turned towards it and I aimed at her mouth, which was soon full with the pee bubbling out of it and running down her chin. Meanwhile, Gary had extracted his cock from his black jeans and was pissing on her tits, recording it as he did so with a small digital camera. When we had finished Vanessa was soaked, the wet cheesecloth clinging to her body.
“I think Gary could probably do with a blow job, too,” I said. “What do you think, Gary?”
“Mmm, yeah, I do have a bit of pent-up tension, I’ve gotta say.”
Vanessa smiled wickedly and reached out for Gary’s cock, which was quite long and still hanging out of his jeans. She slid off the chair onto her knees and took it into her mouth. I watched for a while, wanking myself until I was hard, then slipped my pants off and knelt down behind her. I lifted the cheesecloth shift up — it was damp so it stuck to her back — and reaching down, felt her cunt, which was sopping with piss and juices. As she continued to suck Gary off, I slid my cock into the wet slit and began to fuck her, my hands on her hips, then after a while, pulled out and started to fuck her arse instead. This felt so good I came almost immediately. I stood up shakily and sat on the chair and watched as Vanessa finished Gary off, swallowing his sperm.
We went inside and had some more beers and Gary ended staying till quite late. Everything got a bit hazy after a while, and I probably would not have remembered that, right at the end, Gary fucked Vanessa on the couch, if I had not found the photos I took of it the next day.
Gary emailed a sample of the shots he had taken later that week, and they looked terrific. Then, almost a year later, a heavy parcel from Germany arrived on our doorstep — ten copies of the book. It was a beautifully produced hardback with a dustjacket, with photospreads of about ten cute girls peeing (of course I thought that Vanessa was the prettiest of them), and she was really pleased with it too. My favourite shot was one of her on the swing, laughing, the pee gushing out of her pussy. Though I’d posted plenty of photos of Vanessa on the Internet, seeing her in a book like this, thinking about people opening it up in a bookshop and seeing her doing this, was even more exciting.
That night, I fucked Vanessa with the book open on the bed beside us, and of course finished with a drink of my beautiful young wife’s heavenly piss.
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