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  1. Heyyy everyone!! This one's a bit less adventurous than usual, but I didn't want to leave you all out of the fun! Sooo, confession time: Last night, I had a really sexy pee dream that left me feeling particularly excited "down there" when I woke up... It was a pretty crummy day outside, so instead of going out and doing anything, I decided to make today a home day and, because I was feeling so tantalized, figured I could work on developing my pee abilities and have some personal time! For those of you who are into (ridiculous) fantasy writing, I'll describe my dream first (or at least the coherent and relevant parts). If that's not your thing, go ahead and skip down to paragraph 7!! So it began as a crowded concert at a beach. The sun was dipping into the sea at the horizon, a vibrant red/orange gleaming off of the waves behind the stage as a groovy riff rose from the instruments. A handful of my friends and I were really into the music, dancing and flinging our bodies about without a care in the world. Just as I was happily twirling my summer dress in the cool evening breeze, my friend Alyssa turned to me and cheesily said, "Gotta pee, BRB!" and disappeared seemingly-aimlessly into the crowd. With the insight only one immersed in a dream could possibly have, I instinctively knew she was going in the wrong direction to find the restroom (even though I had no idea where they really were). I ran after her to give her a heads up, but was unable to catch a glimpse of her in the throng of fellow music enthusiasts. Meanwhile, the air shook with the pulsating notes arising from the nimble fingers of the bassist. The mellow mood of the evening suddenly shifted to unease in my mind. What if I can't find her and she doesn't find the restroom? Somehow, these thoughts gradually contorted into, What if I can't find the restroom? and I suddenly felt the urge to relieve myself. I wrestled through the sticky, sweaty, crowd, the pulsating notes resonating inside my bladder. Desperation was knocking, threatening to bust down the door to my urethra. I quickly looked down to ensure I wasn't leaking in my...jeans? (I had been wearing a dress before, but that didn't occur to me until after I woke up). Hallelujah. Still dry. I plunged my hand into my groin and continued to struggle through the crowd, now genuinely fearful I was going to wet myself in front of all these strangers. Just in the nick of time, however, I looked up and saw an abnormally large sign looming overhead, indicating the location of the women's room. With one hand pressing into my lady bits, I used my free hand to force people out of my way, some of them protesting at my blatant rudeness. Finally, I burst from the edge of the crowd and hobbled toward the restroom, hunched over in desperation. Hurriedly, I ran into the door. It didn't budge. I fell to the ground, curled up, nearly crying because I had to pee so badly. With one hand, I was clutching my nether region, with the other, my face. Between the shadows of my fingers, I saw the door suddenly open and some feet approach. I looked up through misty eyes and saw a man with dark hair looking down at me. "Sorry miss," he said with a strange accent, gesturing behind me, "Toilets 're closed. Yew'v gotta yewz the sand." I rolled over and saw several other women doing exactly that--but rather strangely. They were lining the edge of the beachfront, where the sand faded into sidewalk, none of them making any attempts to conceal themselves from the dancing crowd. One blonde girl in her mid-20's had pulled her pink shorts down to her knees, squatted and was urinating vigorously all over her own bare feet, splattering violently and darkening the sand beneath her. Another, with auburn hair, was probably in her early 30's. She had a dress, which she left in place as she stood to pee, the liquid trickling down and pooling between her legs. I could tell there were others, who were squatting like the first, but I couldn't make out their features because they were facing away from me, ardently making their own puddles. Nobody seemed to think this out of the ordinary and kept about their business as these women openly released the contents of their bladders. What will my friends think if I do that?! I thought in despair, despite the apparent social acceptability, suddenly remembering my friends for the first time since the start of the dream. I rose to my knees and turned back around to the restroom. This time, a second door that I hadn't seen before had materialized. It was the men's room. I bolted to my feet, the sudden movement miraculously not stressing my bladder at all apparently, and made a mad dash for the door. This one gave way and I entered a very large restroom--far too large for the building I had just entered. Not concerned by the logical bounds of physics, I darted my eyes around and took in my surroundings. On the left, stood a massive row of urinals--probably 30 in total--no privacy screens between them. In the very back of room, there were a handful of stalls, fashioned from strangely elegant wood. To the right, a line of sinks that mirrored the urinals. There were quite a few men around, probably 20-40 in total. Some were relieving themselves into the urinals, penises easily visible, some were washing their hands, and some were dancing to the music. Nobody seemed particularly off-put by my presence in the men's room, nor did the ones at the urinals take offense at my attention to their actively-leaking hardware. Then, I noticed a handful of other guys immediately to my left, who were talking to some women, lined up along the wall next to the door I just entered. Nobody seemed irked by their presence either. One of the ladies proudly boasted, "Look what I can do!" and promptly completed an, admittedly, awe-inspiring (physics defying) back flip. The guys were all very impressed...and not at all phased by the strange nature of women showing off back flips in the men's room. I noted that one of the guys--muscular, with dark hair, brown eyes, and some stubble--was particularly cute. I wasn't about to be one-upped by this girl in front of him, so I cried out, "Oh yeah?! Watch this!" They, including the handsome one, all turned to look at me, presumably expecting some sort of gymnastic feat. Instead, I darted for the nearest urinal, which was currently being used, and pushed the guy out of the way, disrupting the grip on his manhood, causing a splatter of pee before he resumed his business at the next urinal. Then, I unzipped the front of my jeans (I hadn't changed my clothes this time!) somehow maneuvered my clothing so my urethra wasn't occluded (which was honestly probably a more impressive feat than the black flip), and began to pee--through the fly! I sighed with relief and glowed with pride as I looked down, seeing nothing but a urinal between my legs and a jet of urine splattering flawlessly into the porcelain, shooting from between the teeth of my zipper (I didn't even unbutton!). It felt surreal to stand there, peeing just like a guy, but even less exposed, in the middle of the men's room, with a rather attractive audience . Pee continued to pour out perfectly, and I glanced to the side, where I could make out pink protrusions from the guys' pants, gripped gently between their fingers, sprinkling urine into their respective urinals. I wish I'd had the perspicacity to ask them if they wanted to compare sizes . Some of them seemed very startled, others didn't seem to notice (ya know, this kind of thing happens every day, right?!) After several moments of urine tinkling into the basin below, my stream finally came to a spurting end, which, conveniently enough, did not require any wiping, shaking, or drying at all. "Thank you, boys," I said condescendingly with a little curtsy as I zipped up my jeans and turned to face the guy I was trying to impress. Judging from the bulge in his pants, it had worked! As I smugly approached him, he said, "That was nothing," and unzipped his own jeans. I was growing very excited. Things below were tingling very nicely and the room seemed to heat up. He backed up against the sinks and pulled out his long, rigid, penis. I gasped a little and halted in my walk, gently touching my hand to the front of my pants. Then, fully erect, he shot a spurt of pee from the sink and managed to land it in the urinal against the opposite wall (I did warn you this dream was absolutely ridiculous). Urine sprayed majestically from his rigid jewel below and he shot a proud grin at me. I approached cautiously. "May I?" I asked, my eyes darting from his smile to the toy below his belt. He nodded and I gripped it tenderly. The skin was soft, but it felt firm as iron beneath. I could feel the pee coursing through the plumbing within. I was filled with so much excitement, I thought I might explode. I pried my eyes away and looked at the target on the other wall. He was still hitting the urinal, spot-on. With a sly smile, I jerked his penis to the side, sending urine cascading all over the bathroom. I giggled childishly and flicked it around again. Before long, I was waving it all over the place, shooting just about anything I could aim at. It was euphoric! I was filled with such awe...I can hit anything! That is, until my alarm blared and I was aroused to reality with a start (I swear, it's like the alarm sets itself to interrupt the best parts of my favorite dreams! ). Speaking of aroused, however, my panties were soaked--and not with urine. My heart was pounding and I felt like I was on fire. Still dazed and absolutely enraptured by the dream, I climbed out of bed, crossed my room with my legs awkwardly spread in a futile attempt to avoid smearing the juices any more, and bitterly hit my alarm. I made my way to the toilet, where I relieved a very full bladder and cleaned up (and, you guessed it, played a fair bit...which was really unavoidable anyway, given how alive things were down there ). I glanced out the window and noted how dismal the day was--gray and drizzly. I decided then; I didn't want to go anywhere...besides, I had more important things to do. My mind kept flicking back to the end of the dream: The freedom of peeing through a little slit in my pants without spilling a drop...but even more pressingly, the liberation of having a penis. I mean, sure, I didn't actually possess one in my dream, but I got a taste of what it must be like for the male populace by flicking around that one guy's hardware (emphasis on the hard ). Disappointed, I resigned myself to only ever using a penis in my fantasies, but I figured I could make the most of the plumbing I've got (or haven't got)! Today, I would commit myself to cleanly peeing with my pants up, just as well as any guy! I started off with several full glasses of water, and thus the wait began. I grabbed some dirty jeans out of the laundry and threw on a ratty t-shirt, maybe not sexy, but sensible attire for the task at hand. I forewent panties, figuring I needed to leave the trajectory as open as possible. As I waited for my bladder to fill, I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and plotted my strategy. I stood in front of my toilet, spread my legs, and unzipped the fly. This is never going to work. I couldn't see anything but the front of my jeans (duh). I fidgeted with the denim, trying to make just enough of my vulva protrude to give my urethra a clean shot...it clearly wasn't going to happen like this. I probably wrestled with it for a full 5 minutes, trying to find some sort of angle with which I could leave my pants fully up, but get my lady bits semi-exposed. Finally, I resigned my dream to being exactly that: A dream, but I wasn't about to give up entirely. I pulled my jeans about halfway down my butt. The waistband hugged my cheeks tightly, but I wasn't entirely flashing the audience (which, thankfully, was just my toilet and the bathroom wall for now). I pushed down the flaps of my unzipped and unbutton pants, exposing my pubic mound to the toilet lid. I thrust my hips awkwardly forward and leaned awkwardly backward. It's a long shot...but it's worth a try. I pulled my jeans back up, fastened them, took another swig of water, and awaited my bladder. After about an hour, my kidneys were dumping freshly-processed urine into my bladder at a very noticeable rate. I grinned to myself and made my way back to the toilet. I removed my socks, kicked them over to the bathroom door, and threw a towel onto the floor in front of the toilet. Stepping before the porcelain throne, I pulled my jeans about halfway down my butt again and assumed the aforementioned stance, my hips jutting out, my upper body leaning back. I stepped so I was essentially straddling the toilet, but still standing. I messed with the front of my jeans a little, trying to clear the way for my pee stream before I noticed a significant oversight. In restitution, I bent over, lifted the toilet seat, saying, "For the ladies," and let out what was probably a particularly girly giggle. I re-assumed my position and prepared myself for trial 1. I had incredibly poor line-of-sight for the action, but by the way it felt, I knew I was going to shoot pee all over the front of my pants. Mildly frustrated, I pressed firmly against the crotch of my jeans, attempting to push it between my legs. It didn't feel like these efforts cleared much more of the "runway", but "liftoff" was about to proceed anyhow. Worst case, I pee all over myself, the toilet, and the floor and try it again in a few minutes...and that's, more or less, what happened. With a little pressure, a moderate stream of urine found its way out of my urethra...straight onto the front of my jeans. I heard the mellow patter of fluid hitting fabric and felt the familiar warmth of pee gushing all over my hand. I cursed quietly and attempted to reposition, but with little avail. The flood continued to enthusiastically pour from my crotch, rapidly darkening my jeans. I released the front of my pants and attempted to fidget with my labia, hoping I could figure out a way to aim. The results were exactly what you're probably expecting: More pee torrented all over my hands and splattered clumsily into my jeans. Enough had soaked in that I began hearing the soft tinkle of what managed to weave its way out of the fabric and drop into the basin below. Warmth steadily seeped through my attire, sticking to my legs as the dampness descended. I shivered suddenly with a chill, adding even more misfortune to the chaos below. Thus, I stood, soaking my pants until the last few spurts...thwap, thwap...thudded against the fabric of my clothing. The amusement of having flooded my pants and spattered my bathroom quickly overcame the frustration of a failed attempt and I laughed to myself. I peeled my jeans off of my skin and chucked them into the bathtub. I grabbed another towel, dried myself off, and, likewise, threw that into the tub. Bottomless, I washed my hands and made my way to the kitchen (awkwardly dodging around the house to close the blinds I'd forgotten to shut earlier). As I waited for my bladder to gear up for round 2, I made myself a quick breakfast. As such, the day carried on for several hours, each attempt as doomed as the first. Finally, at the end, I simply pulled the pants all the way down to my ankles and had mild success peeing into the toilet from a standing position, but still managed to spray pee all over the place. All in all, it was an incredibly fun, albeit somewhat unsatisfying day! I guess this'll just intensify the penis envy until I can figure out a way to maximize the equipment I've been given
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