Jump to content
Search In
  • More options...
Find results that contain...
Find results in...
Existing user? Sign In

Sign In



Or sign in with one of these services

Sign Up

Omo Fantasies: Pee in your Bikini


Recommended Posts

I was offered a helpful suggestion, that some of the loooong answers I've been giving on the 'Ultimate Omo Fantasy' thread might do better as freestanding entries, here in the Fiction section...

 

So I'll get to that, maybe in this topic, maybe as separate topics. 

To get you started, here's an Omo Fantasy piece I wrote in the Wetset message board, a few years ago, about a peculiar herbal cocktail served in a beach bar on a Caribbean island. 

Hemingway it ain't. 

 

Old George and the bar on the beach...

 

Old George has been running the bar on the beach longer than anybody can remember. Hell, they've been calling him 'old' for longer than anyone can remember. Him and his first wife Marian, who they said was some kind of heiress, then his second wife, then their daughter, then a series of girlfriends that come and go every year or so. Rumour has it that the girl behind the bar on Saturdays is his grandaughter, college degree and all: treats her the same as all the help, grinning like they just got outta the sack, and all of them seem to like it that way.

God knows, she's as wicked as he is, maybe it isn't all for show. But the cocktail 'Pee in your Bikini' was her idea: he cheerfully blames Joanna, and she cheerfully admits to it.

The girls from the bars and the hotels are here at George's, because it's the only bar on miles and miles of beach, it gets them away from the boys and the businessmen, and George is careful who he serves. Helps, too, that he's always paid the pick of the locals to play on the banjo, or the guitar, or one year an electric piano hooked up to his generator: pays 'em and tells 'em to be presentable, polite, not too loud, and not to push with the clientele unless the girls physically pick 'em up and drag them into the bushes

Which, occasionally, they do: George picks 'em good-looking. Pretty, even, and the girls seem to like' em.

So every week there's some girl, new to the island, hoping she can stay for the summer and pay her way with bar work. Or whatever. Her new friends take her here, their own place miles from the bellowing beer-swilling tourists, and they chill out. Start telling stories, start telling secrets, start spending more time laughing than looking shocked and scandalised... And eventually the new girl notices the third one from the bottom on the cocktail board: 'Pee in Your Bikini'.

What? She asks... Or 'What the F**K?', these days. And George, or Joanna, or her friends will tell her: it makes you pee in your bikini. And she'll ask again, and they explain it to her s-l-o-w-l-y: you drink it, you gotta go, and you pee. In your bikini. Or whatever you are wearing on your sweet little ass tonight. And Geoge or Jo will say, as sweet and reasonable as can be, that we don't mind, it's just nature, don't worry, you can have another one on the house if it happens to you.

And every damn' time they take him up on it. Which makes me wonder what's in the cocktails higher up the board.

So the girl perches on the stool at the bar, and there on a tray are two long glasses: one of them's a pint of iced water - or so George says, and I almost believe him - and the other's pineapple juice, Champagne or something like it, two shots of rum and spiced tea. I know that one of the spices is ginger; I'm pretty sure another is chilli, I'd never say that any other is a beneficial local herb that goes on speedboats to the gringos but it's probably something closely-related. That, and his second wife was a herbalist, and taught Joanna more than she ever learned at business school.

So the girl sips a little, and decides she likes it: George mixes a damn' good drink. She drinks a mouthful, and decides she likes it a lot - and that she's thirsty, and needs a gulp or two of water. So down goes the level in the glasses, keeping pace with one another as the girl gets mellower, cheerier, bouncier, animated and wittier. But just a little-bit soft-focused. Sometimes they order another, sometimes they ask for an extra glass of water; my favourite was a cool Norwegian girl in a swimsuit, drank it straight down, both glasses - I mean like down-in-one - and started on a second and a third like nothing ever fazed her.

Either way, the result's the same. The chatter stops and they sit very still, close their mouths and look very, very surprised: most of them make it halfway off the stool and I saw one of them make it all the way to the bushes before it started, but the next thing that she knows is that she's peeing in her bikini. Wide eyes, surprised, but mellow enough not to be upset about it. And the whole bar gets to see her half standing, the backside of her bikini ballooning out and pee splashing off the stool and streaming down her legs. Miss Norway didn't even know she was doing it 'til she looked down and saw it running down into the sand, just sat there and peed where she was for the rest of the night. Didn't give a damn. 

The best of them swear like Marines and insist that their friends all drink one too: that free Pee-in-your-bikini that George hands over is the most profitable act of sympathy I ever saw a Christian man commit. And, about half the time, they do - they've all gone through the ritual, it holds no terrors for them, and somewhere, deep down, I don't think they actually mind - not in swimwear, anyway, though I think it's harder for the ones in shorts, miniskirts, whatever's fashionable off the beach this year.

But, the Hell with it, a dip in the sea washes all sins away.

And yes, they know what it does; and yes, they do. One after the other, shrieking, or giggling, or just grinning sheepishly and letting go; every one of them seems to pee herself differently - legs together on the stool, letting it spill over anywhere and everywhere; standing legs wide-apart, letting it cascade straight down; cross-legged, spread-legged, legs straight out or knees hunkered up under her chin, sitting with her hands in her crotch and letting it squeeze out; or just laid-back, relaxed and letting the herself go with the flow.

And once it's done, it's done, they never scurry off into the bushes or wade into the sea again; doesn't seem to be any point. Just keep drinking, and now you can drink as much as you like, relax about the consequences 'cause who's gonna poke fun like she's little-miss dry ass?

Never a dull moment, and every different bikini seems to let it out a different way; some just let it through like they weren't there, some fill up and bulge like they're waterproof - which has got to be a drag for swimming and getting out of the pool - some send it squirting backwards like she's peeing out of her ass; most do some combination of the straight-down stream and trickles out around the leg-holes. But I've seen some sights that make me doubt the laws of gravity.

One night, even, this crazy Russian girl took off her sarong - they were the thing to be seen in a year or two ago - and she was wearing some kind of see-through plastic bikini, top and bottom. Ye, she drank it and yes, she did, like crazy, filled it up and squirted up the small of her back into her hair. She couldn't stop herself doing it, and it kept on coming, she ended up pulling at the elastic to let it out through the leg holes... The girls just egged her on, brought her glass after glass of water and pina colada. I think she must've been peeing nonstop after the third one, they were in hysterics. At the end of the night, it itched like crazy and she ended up filling her Bikini bottoms with soda water and walking home like she had a diaper on.

I could watch for hours, and one day, I swear I'm going to rig cameras; I mean it, they're getting smaller and cheaper every year and I'm pretty sure Joanna's either gonna want to watch them, or find a way of selling 'em on the Web.

Come the end of the night, George swills down the stools, the seats and the tables with seawater and lysol, and rakes the sand through, ready for the wind to blow it all away. Some nights, they find discarded bikini bottoms, panties, trunks, whatever; sometime I'm going to summon up the courage and ask Joanna what she does with all of them.

Pee In Your Bikini. Somehow, I don't think we'll ever see it in the supermarkets.

 

 

 

 

 

Link to post

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    No registered users viewing this page.

×
×
  • Create New...