My fascination with pissing started at a young age. Growing up in a neighborhood of all boys, I had access to all sorts of experiences that I probably wouldn't have been exposed to otherwise.
Pissing outdoors was a treat. An adventure of sorts. Something I still enjoy when I can get away with it. There's something liberating about being a female and being able to take a piss standing up. It's like a slap in the face to this taboo society has placed on how a female goes about relieving herself.
I like to hold it. That pressure building behind my bladder and that almost sexual energy that builds right along side it. It took me years to master my body and learn how to direct my stream without pissing down my leg uncontrollably. That shame of "I shouldn't be peeing like this" halting my progress for sometimes years on end.
I moved up to a tiny cabin in the mountains for a year and a half in 2005. The little 9' x 24' rental was rustic to no end, having only a kithen sink for indoor plumbing.
The bathroom situation was "less than ideal" in many people's eyes. For me it was perfect. The bathroom was in the cabin next door. I had to go outside, around the cabin (sometimes digging my way through the snow!) to get to the bathroom which was shared by 4 other cabin neighbors.
Frequently, the bathroom would be in use when I had to go, so I would be forced to dance my way back to my cabin and try to busy myself or lay on my bed wiggling around holding my crotch feeling the pressure continue to build in my bladder as I tried to hold it.
I had been wanting to piss outside since I had moved there, but couldn't get myself to do it. My opportunity arose one day when after several trips to see if the bathroom had opened up yet, I couldn't wait another minute. Stripping off my panties, jeans and T-shirt, I threw on my red fleece night gown with a pair of sandles before scurrying out of my cabin towards the woods.
Compaired to the woods in say northern Minnesota, the woods up in the mountains aren't very dense- especially when you get up to around 9,000 feet were I lived. I wound my way in and around paths that didn't really exist trying to find a secluded place with a clearing were I wouldn't be spotted... Not that any of the cabin neighbors would have cared, most of them pissed outside on a regular basis (grinning) much to my secretive delight.
Pain started to grip my bladder and I wasn't sure how much longer I could wait before having an accident. I decided it was now or never and settled on a thick pine tree in a small clearing. Glancing around, I hoisted up the night gown and stood with my legs slightly more than shoulder width apart, bending gently at the knees. Spreading my lips apart with both hands, I tilted my pelvis forward and watched with more than a sight twinge of satisfaction and relief as the golden stream shot out of my desperate pussy. The perfect uninterrupted stream hit the trunk of the tree about 5 feet in front of me making a dull splashing sound. Slowly I swayed my hips back and forth watching my stream cascade from the tree trunk at thigh height to the little shrubs and bushes next to it and back again.
As my golden arch slowed, I stopped the flow then gave several hard squirts. Once. Twice. Three times before I was completely drained.
Not wanting those last few drops to start dribbling down my bare legs, I slid my fingers between my lips in an attempt to ward off any rouge drops. I suddenly realized how wet and slick my smooth hairless pussy had gotten.
Glancing around again, I found myself alone, and taking my left hand, started gently playing with my clit bathing it in my slick juices. My smooth counterclock wise motion with my middle finger was driving me wild.
The feeling of the cool October breeze against my naked pussy and the "dirtiness" of masturbating alone outside had me soon leaning up against the tree, straddling the pool of piss at my feet.
It didn't take long before my fingers were rubbing my clit at warp speed and my hips were thrusting quickly against an invisible lover.
I could feel my orgasm building and my thighs squezing tighter and tighter around my hand as I stroked myself closer and closer to orgasm.
I exploded pushing with all my might, yearning for that one last squirt of golden liquid- imagining it hitting the tree from the force of my cum- a modified version of female ejaculation which I was not to discover for another couple of years. Sadly I had drained myself and stood shaking in uncontrolled orgasmic spasm trying not to let the pulsating scream in my head escape my open lips.
As I came back down to Earth, I glanced down at the wet tree trunk and puddle disappearing at my feet. Smiling, I slowly pushed off the tree, sucked the piss-pussy juice cocktail from my fingers and smoothed down my night gown. Shakily I walked back to my cabin hoping nobody would stop me on the way and ask about my whereabouts and what I had been up to.