Diana's First Public Pee

Preface

This story was inspired by thegrumpyturtle's one called Exploring Your Pee Fetish (for girls). This is a work of pure fiction and any similarity to persons living, dead or fictions is purely coincidental.   

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I had not long finished reading a Wattpad story and couldn't get the idea out of my head. This appealed to one of my two fantasies. I decided to send the writer a message about my desires, hoping they wouldn't find my idea gross or creepy that wasn't my intention.

I explained that I was in my seventies, so they were probably young enough to be my grandchildren. My real name didn't matter. For the purposes of our correspondence, I was Diana. I explained what I would like to happen if she agreed to meet with me.

Several weeks elapsed before I had a reply. They had said that they were taking a break due to travelling with my parents. However, I was beginning to think they had dismissed me as being a creepy old pervert.

Dear Diana

Ellie and I have deliberated long and hard about your request. As you can imagine, our safety was one of the concerns, but you appear to have been open and honest and would have a lot more to lose if you make a wrong move. You ask if I think you are a pervert, no, but you have a couple of fetishes, one which closely aligns to ours. Your other fantasy could be an intriguing experience for us all.

She went on to ask for a photo, my height, my weight, shoe size, waist size and several other measurements. I was told to promptly pay for various items she would have to buy for me, so we could carry out my desire. She signed her reply.

Love

Pamela & Ellie

A few emails and photos later, we fixed a date. They sent me an SO15 postcode and asked if I knew where the old Southampton football ground was. Not being a football fan, I didn't but, I googled it. It was called The Dell, said Google. Turning on satellite view in Google maps, I saw two large blocks of flats and some modern terraced houses arranged around a quadrangle. I now knew what I was looking for, but they didn't tell me the house number, just saying ring us when you get there.

One Saturday morning, leaving early, I picked up the M25 near Rickmansworth, joined the M3 at junction 12, took a comfort break at Fleet services and arrive at The Dell two hours later. Getting out of the car, I stretched my legs and rang the phone number they gave me. After two rings, a voice behind me shouted, "over here", looking around, I saw Pamela and Ellie waving at me from a French balcony.

"Wait there, we'll come and get you."

I'm glad they did, as the layout of the corridors was confusing. Back in their flat we talked, they told me to soften my voice, and I practised while they quizzed me about Diana.

No, Diana had never been out in public, never worn makeup, she didn't have any of her own clothes. Diana only came out at home for a couple of hours when her wife was out. Diana wished her wife was more adventurous when dressing; instead, she made do with plain but functional panties and bras, tights and a very limited; selection of three dresses, her wife preferring trousers or jeans. Diana made the most of her limited time walking around the house in the one pair of low-heeled shoes that fit her. Admired herself in the mirror, imagining what she might look like with long hair and makeup. Diana went to the toilet, lifting her skirt, lowering her panties, sitting to pee and wipe. Diana always made sure she directed her pee into the water. It sounded, to her ears, so womanly. She never mastered the art of hovering over the seat.