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Hey, I'm new here, long-time lurker though! This took place a year or so ago, but it’s my favorite story so I had to write it up first. Of course, it’s a bit fictionalized as I don’t remember exactly what happened and I don’t want anyone to recognize me. Let me know if you want to hear more! So I live near a beach, and I don’t go out there as often as I should, probably because of how pale I am. I’m half white and half Asian, but my complexion takes after my white side, so I was all sunscreened up that day. More description: I’m in my 20s, transmasculine, I have shoulder length brown hair, with a petite and androgynous frame. This day in particular I was presenting especially nonbinary as I decided to go topless with just black bikini bottoms. I’ve had top surgery so I’m flat chested without really visible scars, and no tucking necessary as I’ve still got my wet ass bussy to put it bluntly. I had been chatting with a couple people on a certain gay hookup app earlier in the morning, some of whom I had discussed my love of omo with as I was filling up on tea. So I was anticipating having a little wet fun at the beach already, and if I didn’t find anyone to have fun with, I could hold and piss in my swimsuit on the sand or in the water. I was feeling nervous about my plans, not sure how crowded the beach would be, so I decided to pregame with some extra liquid courage. Plus I knew the hard seltzers I had would go straight to my bladder. I didn’t want to get caught with alcohol at the beach so I chugged it, then I grabbed my water bottle and towel and headed for the sand in the early afternoon. There were a couple people when I got to the beach, so I laid out my towel a good distance from anyone else and went back to sipping water and looking at the apps while listening to music. After about half an hour I was pleasantly full, and I was just about to scoot my butt off my towel and casually dribble into the sand, when someone texted me he was ready to come over right now. “Now” of course meaning a half hour drive, plus however amount of time we’d spend finding each other and making the kind of awkward conversation leading up to a kinky encounter. It was then I had to consider if I wanted to try to hold on until he got there or have a sneaky piss and then count on filling up again before he got there. I know, it’s not fair, because he had to hold for the whole drive too, but I was already full. I have a small bladder, and I could practically feel the water in my stomach going through me and pressing down filling up my lower body and getting ready to strain on my urethra. I decided to compromise. I rolled onto my stomach on the sand and relaxed, just a little bit, until I felt the warm wetness trickle out from between my lips and soak into the fabric of my swimsuit. I paused, rolled back over to check the damage. There was a little sand clingingto the front of my swimsuit where it had gotten wet, but there were no droplets on the sand. Just a little more, I thought, and let out a squirt for another second or two. It felt so good, but I had to cut it off. I turned back onto the towel and admired my handiwork: a tiny, dime sized puddle in the sand. After that I tried not to think about peeing. It worked, and my need went away as I listened to music and waited for my date to get there. I actually got thirsty during that time, due to my rate of consuming water previously that I guess my body got used to, so I sipped on my water bottle and actually finished it off. I was considering heading off to a nearby water fountain to refill, but I had already given him my location and description so I didn’t want to risk being gone when he got there. It was more like 45 minutes, but my bladder went through waves of being tolerable and less tolerable. When he got there we made small talk for a bit. I’m bold over text, but when it comes to real life I can be pretty shy. I was definitely shifting and squirming a bit on my towel, and he pointed it out. “No, I’m always this fidgety,” I insisted. “You don’t have to pee?” “Oh, I do,” I said. “But I’m like, a 7 out of 10. In fact, I was just going to go refill my water bottle.” I shook it for emphasis. “You want to come with me? It’s over there.” I pointed to a place about a quarter mile down the beach. I think he might have looked a bit disappointed, but then I added, “And then we can find a place around the bushes that’s more private. So we can do what we talked about.” He nodded, and so we trudged through the sand, taking at least twice as long as it would have on pavement. I wasn’t in any danger of leaking, but standing up had made the pressure on my bladder worse, and I definitely looked longingly at the nearby bathrooms as I filled up my water bottle. I could tell he was getting more desperate too, but he really wasn’t showing it. After another slow several minutes walking alng the beach we came across a spot that was mostly surrounded by bushes on three sides, and facing the water on the last one. I set my stuff down. He was still fully clothed, in a gray shirt and khakis, and I was wearing my bikini bottoms. “Should we do it?” I nodded. He laid back on the sand. I stood straddling him, feet by his ears. “Ready?” I asked. He opened his mouth. “Just a second,” I said. I bent my knees a bit and imagined myself being on the toilet, my technique for circumventing my hardwired potty training. The stream finally got started. It squirted into the gusset of my swimsuit and dripped right through, spraying all over his face because of the wind and the distance. I cut off the stream, but he signaled me to keep going. I squatted a little more and the spray turned into a fat, hissing torrent. I aimed it as best I could and started filling up his mouth. It bubbled and he swallowed, the unrelenting stream pouring over his closed mouth when he did so, splashing onto the sand around him. He gasped and then eagerly opened his mouth up again. I was so turned on, I wanted it to last forever, but as desperate as I was I could only keep it up for a minute. When I was done the sort of post-horny haze lifted and I looked around to make sure no one was watching. It was fine, and I felt the exhilaration of getting away with something. It wasn’t over yet though. He still had to pee. I laid down next to my mess and laughed as he wiped off his face in awe. Then he straddled me on his hands and knees, still in his clothes. I was a little surprised. We hadn’t discussed him wetting his own clothes, only peeing on me. “You sure? You didn’t bring a change of clothes or anything?” He wasn’t carrying anything. “I have shorts in my truck. I don’t want to expose myself. You don’t mind?” he asked. “If you’re not embarrassed…” I shook my head. “That’s hot as fuck.” I did live around there, so it was possible someone I knew would see me with him, but what could they say? He got on top of me and held still. I saw the spot appear on the front of his khaki pants, plain as day, growing wider and wider as the pee gushed out. It dripped onto me, rewetting my swimsuit and rolling off my skin onto the sand. I laid there as he fully relieved himself over me, drenching his pants in the telltale u shaped pattern of someone who has had a pee pee accident. He finally finished, shook himself off over me, and stood up. I dried myself off with my towel and covered up as I walked him back to his truck wearing the pee pee pants. We definitely got some looks, but no one said anything and I could tell they were being polite and trying not to stare. It really did look like he had had an embarrassing accident. After we got back to his truck we said goodbye and never saw each other again due to the distance, but I’ll always remember this experience. My DMs are open!