Emma’s Wet Memoirs


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Emma’s early fascination with pee turns into a sexual obsession.

I remember playing with a boy in my neighborhood named Todd. We had gone behind his garage under a lilac bush, our secret hideout where no one could find us.

“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” he said.

I’d never played this game, but I did want to see what his penis looked like.

He showed it to me, so complex and unfamiliar.

Neither of us had pubic hair, as young as we were, so I took in every detail. The small purple head, the pale bare shaft. All so different from what us girls had.

“Can I touch it?” I’d never seen one before. Staring at it excited me. I felt my heart beating as he nodded and opened his pants further.

Gingerly at first, I held his small, soft penis between my thumb and finger. Then I enclosed him in my hand and tugged. I ran my hand under him and moved the two hard marbles around inside his shriveled little bag. He felt like putty, warm and pliable. Playing with him fascinated me.

I didn’t want to stop caressing his penis, but he told me it was my turn, so I lifted my dress and pulled the crotch of my panties aside.

“I can’t see, Emma. Move your legs apart.”

It seemed unfair, how he could expose his penis just by opening his pants. But I wanted him to get a good look too, so I sat in the dirt, removed my panties, and spread my legs for him. Sunlight bathed the pink line of my slit, but he still complained.

“I can’t see anything. It’s just a fold in your skin.”

“Here, I’ll show you.” I used two fingers to open myself so he could see inside. He stared, wide-eyed and curious. My pink slit mesmerized him.

“Does your pee come out of there?” He touched the entrance to my vagina.

“No, it comes out here.” I pointed at my tiny pee hole.

We’d each had a good look, so I started to put my panties back on, but he wanted to play another game. He ran into the garage and came back with two dirty bowls. “I’ll show you how I pee if you show me.”

That sounded like a good idea. I really wanted to see how his worked. It looked like his penis would be so much better at peeing than mine. He set his bowl in the dirt and started to pee. I watched, amazed, as his neat stream of pee filled his bowl. He could aim it! I couldn’t do that.

After the last few golden drops came out, he turned to me. “Now you do it, Emma.”

I set my empty bowl on the ground, lifted my skirt, and squatted over it. Todd got down on his hands and knees so he could watch. Nothing happened for a moment. Then I relaxed my muscles and let it out. I couldn’t aim it like he did, but I got some of it in the bowl. My pee left dark wet spots all over the dirt. I stood and felt a warm trickle run down the inside of my leg.

“I dare you to drink it,” Todd said.

I felt my heart beating again. I wanted to know what it tasted like. I reached down and picked up the warm bowl of yellow pee. I put it to my lips and took a sip. It had almost no taste, maybe something like the top of a can before you tasted the soda. I sipped again, holding it in my mouth. It reminded me of weak chicken broth.

Todd watched me, wide-eyed and amazed. “I dare you to taste mine.”

I liked the idea that it came from his penis, and I wondered if that might make it taste different than mine. I took his warm bowl of pee, held it to my face, and inhaled. His pee smelled stronger than mine. Then I tasted it.

“It tastes the same. Here, you try it.”

Todd shook his head.


“I am not a chicken!” He took the bowl out of my hands, put it to his lips, and sipped it. He frowned and closed his eyes tight. “Ew!” He threw the bowl on the ground. Pee splashed everywhere.

For a while after that, I felt ripped off. How come boys had a penis and I only had this little slit between my legs? It hardly seemed fair that boys could aim their pee and I couldn’t.

As I got ready for school one morning, I discovered something quite by accident. I went to the bathroom to shower and wash my hair as usual. I turned on the water to let it heat up and dropped my pajamas. My pubic hair had started to come in, light brown and soft as velvet. My breasts already filled a small bra. I stepped into the shower and let the hot water run over my naked body.

After I lathered my hair with shampoo, I felt like I had to pee. By time I’d rinsed my hair, my full bladder begged for release. I didn’t want to bother getting out of the shower to use the toilet, so I decided to pee in the shower.

I put one foot on the side of the tub, spread myself open with two fingers, and let it out. To my surprise, holding it open made it come out in a stream. I watched the line of yellow shoot out of me and arc down into the bottom of the tub. If I turned my hips and moved my fingers, I could make my pee go in different directions. I couldn’t believe it! I could pee like a boy!

From then on, I peed every time I got in the shower. I practiced aiming it, trying to hit the drain like a bullseye. Or I’d aim it at the cold and hot handles. I drew lines of pee up the shower walls, trying to see how high I could make it go. I taught myself how to pee anywhere I wanted.

I remember walking home from school one winter after a fresh snowfall. Ahead of me, two boys ran out from behind a corner market. As I passed where they’d been, I saw yellow lines of pee in the snow where they’d tried to write their names.

While some girls might have been disgusted, I took it as a challenge. I knew I could write my name better than those stupid boys. I looked around, not wanting to get caught. The snowbank couldn’t have been more secluded. I hiked up my skirt and pulled my panties aside, exposing my furry bush. With two fingers, I spread my labia open, and the winter air chilled my pink slit.

My hot pee shot out like a laser, etching yellow lines in the snow. I wrote each letter just like I would sign my name with a pen. My piss laser slowed to a stream, then a dribble. As I put myself away, I felt the last few drops soak into the crotch of my panties. I looked at the snow bank and beamed with pride. It bore a cursive Emma, and quite good penmanship if you ask me.

As I got older, my full bush of pubic hair made a beautiful brown muffin, but it got in the way when I peed. I wanted a nice straight stream that I could aim, and I didn’t want to worry about stray hairs getting in the way. All that hair made it harder to finger myself, too.

One morning, as I shaved my legs in the shower, I decided it would be just as easy to shave my pubic hair. I lathered up and ever so carefully drew the razor across my mons. Clumps of hair washed down the drain with each stroke. I rinsed myself off and ran my fingers over my slippery bare crotch. It felt wonderfully naked–and a little naughty. My clit throbbed when I fingered it. I put another finger inside my vagina and masturbated as the hot water rained down on my breasts.

Once, in high school, my teacher asked me to take a folder to the main office. As I walked down the empty halls, I decided to stop at the girl’s room, but found it closed for maintenance. I squeezed my legs together. I had to pee really bad. My pinching bladder told me I’d never make it to the other girl’s room on the far side of the school. Desperate, I looked up and down the hall, then stepped into the boy’s room.

With everyone in class, I had the room all to myself. I headed for the stalls, but then I saw the urinals, mounted on the wall like pop art sculptures. I approached, walking softly, afraid to be caught. Spatters of pee adorned the porcelain rim, some dry, some still wet.

I laid my teacher’s folder on the bathroom counter, kicked off my sandals, and removed my jeans and panties. I walked back to the urinal, naked from the waist down. With my legs and bare labia spread apart, I peed straight into the urinal. A pink soap-like bar at the bottom made some of my pee spray back. I drew a line up one side of the urinal and back down the other, coating it with my pee.

It kind of turned me on. After I emptied my bladder, I touched my naked slit, slick with juice and the last warm dribbles of my pee. I stuck one long finger inside my warm vagina. At the same time, I rubbed my slippery little clit. The smell of pee filled my nostrils as I jacked myself off in front of the urinal. The empty boy’s room was silent except for the wet sound of my masturbation and my breathless panting.

I almost made myself cum, but thought I heard a noise in the hall. Spooked, I put my clothes back on and listened at the door. When I heard no one, I cursed. I’d been so close to cumming! I left the boy’s room and headed for the office, innocent as a lamb. Halfway there, I realized I hadn’t washed my hands. My fingers smelled like pee and pussy juice. I put each one in my mouth and licked them clean.

After that, I always associated peeing with sex. I had boyfriends in high school, but they were immature. Experimentation didn’t interest them. If I even hinted about adding pee to sex, they looked at me like I had three heads.

In college, I met a boy named Marcus. Our dorm emptied one holiday weekend and we had the place to ourselves. One night, after we fucked in his room, we walked naked to the bathrooms to clean up. But instead of using the women’s room, I followed him, giggling, right to a urinal. He stood there naked and aimed his penis at the drain, but I didn’t want to be a passive observer. I wanted to help.

“Can I hold it?” I asked. He smiled and nodded.

I held his limp penis, still damp with my pussy juice, and kept it aimed into the urinal. Then he started to pee, and I could feel the pee streaming through his penis. I moved him with my hand, spraying his pee all over the inside of the urinal. Then I made some of his pee splash the wall and the floor.

I smiled. “Oh, I made a mess.”

“Oops.” He didn’t protest.

When his pee ran out and turned to a dribble, I played with his penis in my hand. I felt his warm pee on my fingers as I rubbed the head of his penis. Then I got down on my knees and took him in my mouth.

He put his hand on the back of my head. “Oh, yeah.”

We had just fucked minutes before, so I could taste my pussy mixed with his urine. I sucked every bit of musky flavor from his cock while I played with his balls. His spent penis filled my mouth.

Then I stood next to him, spread my legs and bare labia, and peed into the same urinal. He got down on his knees and watched my pee stream out of me. When my bladder had emptied, he put his hand on my ass and pulled my naked pussy to his face. I felt his tongue on me, inside me, licking up every drop of pee and pussy juice.

At the end of our freshman year, after our last final, Marcus and I decided to go camping. We found a private spot on a lake and pitched our tent. I drank a ton of water while we set up camp, and by time we were done, I had to pee. We were away from the public campground and surrounded by thick woods, so we didn’t have to worry about anyone seeing us.

“Want to see me pee like a dog?”

Marcus smiled and nodded.

I laid a blanket on the ground, took off every stitch of clothing, and got down on all fours. I spread my bare pussy lips apart with my fingers and turned my head back to watch. A stream of yellow pee arced up and back. I swept it back and forth like watering a garden. When it stopped, dribbles ran down my hand and the inside of my thighs.

Marcus said he had to pee too and took off all his clothes.

“Pee on me,” I said, turning over onto my back. I spread my legs and played with myself. I looked up at Marcus’s penis aimed down at me, ready to pee, and squeezed one of my breasts.

His pee shot out and splashed on my belly, yellow and warm. He aimed it between my legs and I rubbed my pussy with his slippery pee. I spread myself open and felt his hot pee pound my clit and run down the crack of my ass. Yellow pee splashed across my perfect breasts.

I loved lying under his pee stream. I wanted to taste it coming right out of his penis. I opened my mouth, and Marcus aimed his pee into it. I drank from his warm fountain, salty and metallic. I kept masturbating and had a little orgasm while his hot urine streamed into my open mouth. He peed all over my face and hair, then his pee ran out.

Watching me masturbate and drink his pee must have been a turn on for him, because his cock turned stiff as a log. I got on my knees in front of him and let the final drops of his pee dribble out onto my tongue while I jacked him off.

He laid next to me on the blanket, now wet with his pee, and we kissed as I stroked his cock. I pushed him over on his back and rode him like a horse. I felt him fuck me from below like a bucking bronco, and I toke him deep inside me.

I wanted to cum all over his hard cock, but I must have drank too much water because I needed to pee again. The thought of my full bladder brought me even closer to orgasm. I had to pee, but I didn’t want to stop fucking, I wanted to cum.

I couldn’t hold my pee any longer, and it started to dribble out of me around Marcus’s cock while we fucked. Each thrust of his cock seemed to push more pee out of me. I stopped trying to hold it back and let go. I sprayed pee all over him. That’s when I came.

I cried out as my orgasm swept over me and my pee squirted out from my pussy. With every thrust, Marcus’s cock pushed on my bladder and sent an orgasmic wave through me. My pee streamed, sprayed, and squirted. I peed all over Marcus. With every breath, I smelled the intoxicating aroma of my rich pee and our musky sex. Then Marcus came too, and I felt his hot wet cum deep inside my pussy.

As the sun went down, we waded into the lake up to our necks. We kissed as we stood in the cool water. I held his limp penis and felt his warm pee surround us.

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