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Archived Sex Stories

Quest For Urinary Adventure



By Francine

Chapter 1


Paula Manzoni was just getting over her birthday celebration. She had
just reached sixty - a milestone that, for many, would call for reflections
on where life had led and a time for planning for the years that lay ahead.
Some, at this age, would be thinking of declining years and think of
lessening activities; others would be in fear of health or security as they
looked to future years when these issues could be major hazards.

Paula was happy, she thought. Well, mostly happy. She had a secure
marriage; her husband, Stanley Manzoni, a year younger than Paula, was a
professional engineer and well situated in a company he had founded and now
partnered. Paula herself was an investment advisor, employed for many
years in a firm which did financial planning for clients, many quite
wealthy, and Paula herself felt financially secure. She handled the
finances in the family, as it was her field; Stan handled many of the items
requiring physical work or more technical expertise. Their children grown,
and with children of their own, both felt comfortable in their finances and
material needs. Both were in good health. However, with very different
careers, they lived largely in different worlds. Paula often traveled in
her career, and loved it. Stan stayed more in the local area where his
business was established. They had developed a comfortable relationship
and seemed well adapted to each other.

As Paula reflected on her married life, she knew she was happy with her
husband. She had never been unfaithful, and, as far as she knew, neither
had Stan. Their sex life now lacked some of the fire and frequency of
younger encounters, but they were satisfied with it. Well, at least Stan
seemed satisfied and Paula had adapted.

Throughout their marriage, Paula had been the adventurous one, and Stan
the more traditional and conservative. Stan had almost no apparent sexual
kinks, and Paula had accepted that. Stan's only sexual peculiarity, as
Paula saw it, was a tendency to like to pull and stretch her breasts,
something he did with more vigor now as they had become somewhat less firm,
and, as Paula would describe them, "more flexible". Sometimes this annoyed
Paula, but she accepted it. But Paula had her own interests, in which she
had never been able to involve her husband as much as she would have liked

Paula was very much aware that she had a urinary system. It required
her attention several times every day. She was also very much aware that
her urinary system had erotic aspects, which she enjoyed and yearned to
explore. Since her youth, Paula had been fascinated with such matters, and
found holding a full bladder or watching urination erotic. Stan, on the
other hand, saw little or no erotic features in the urinary systems of
either his wife or himself. In the early years of their marriage, she had
tried to interest Stan in sharing these, but Stan never showed much
interest in watching her urinate (she had often done it in front of him)
and didn't seem to try to prolong her holding a full bladder. She would
have liked for him to share her interest, but he hadn't. The closest she
had come in recent years was on a long car trip, when both of them
developed very full bladders on a long and fairly busy section of highway
with no accessible rest stops. Paula was beginning to enjoy not only her
own feelings, but especially the increasing distress of her mate.
Eventually they stopped on the roadside when a sign was standing a few feet
from the road - the only privacy shelter they could find. Both of them had
stepped behind the sign, but Stan offered to wait and let Paula relieve
herself first. She had insisted they both do it together, so they both
squeezed behind the sign, facing each other, their backs to the highway
traffic. In this posture they had both urinated profusely, in front of
each other. Paula loved it, but she had not again been able to create a
repeat situation. Her husband simply did not share her fascination.

Paula adapted, though she enjoyed her interest in her choice of reading
matter and viewing opportunities as they arose. Stan was a good sexual
partner for her in other ways, she knew. He had always liked to see her
nude, and at times played little tricks on her to get her to appear naked
in front of him. At the beginning of their marriage she found this
exciting, but later she found it annoying at times and certainly
embarrassing. However, now, at a later age, she really didn't mind his
interest, aware that many older women complained that their spouses
wouldn't notice if they walked around naked all day. Stan still liked to
get her to do things in the nude, and enjoyed looking at her bare body,
despite its accumulated defects. At her present age, she was quite willing
to let him see her unclothed, taking a bit of satisfaction that he found
her erotically arousing. She just wished he would also find her urinary
system more interesting.

Paula reflected on her birthday milestone. One thing she was not ready
to give up was sex. In recent years, her sexual appetite had exceeded that
of her husband, and it was more often she, rather than he, who initiated
their sexual encounters. Not that Stan seemed to mind; he was in good
shape and seldom needed a lot of encouragement to engage his participation.

At home, Paula often worked late at night, though she was not an early
riser. Tonight, as she finished her tasks and put away her papers, she was
feeling those biological urges. She hadn't used the bathroom for several
hours, and she had been consuming liquids while doing her work. Not
surprisingly, her bladder was full, a situation which tended to make her
feel erotic. Stan had gone to bed some time ago. She went to the
bathroom, cleaned herself up a bit and quickly showered. She pointedly did
not urinate. She looked at the nightdress she was preparing to put on,
then put it back. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. For a
lady of sixty, she thought she was not bad looking. Yes, she had some sags
and marks, her breasts drooped noticeably and some of her veins showed, but
she was not fat or, she thought, badly out of shape. Stan, she knew,
enjoyed seeing her naked.

Nude, she walked into the bedroom and slipped into bed beside her
sleeping husband. She noted the time, approaching three A.M. She lay for
a few moments, pondering her strategy. She was dressed for sex, and she
meant to have it. Stan lay on his side, facing her. Gently she unfastened
the pants of the pajamas he wore and slipped her hand inside. Her hand
found his penis, and she grasped it, squeezing slightly. After a few
squeezes, he moved a bit, awakening slightly. She went to work,
unbuttoning his shirt and rolling him onto his back. As he squirmed just a
bit, she worked his pants off of him, still holding his penis in her grasp.
He was obviously awake now, and his penis was erect, still grasped in
her hand. She kissed him lightly, then rubbed her breasts over his face.
She climbed on top of him, and worked his erect member into her. She
leaned forward, shaking her breasts a bit. His hands came into action, and
he reached up, seizing a nipple in each hand. He fondled them just a bit,
then holding her breasts by the nipples, he pulled them as far apart as
they would stretch. She winced just a bit as her erect nipples were pulled
almost at right angles to their normal position, but she knew he liked to
do this to her. It was stimulating, if he just didn't pull too hard. She
moved her hips up and down a bit, his penis held firmly within her. She
loved the feeling of her husband's penis in her especially with a full
bladder, and hers was indeed full, not having been emptied for many hours.
Her motion accelerated.

As he held her breasts and she provided the motion, she erupted in her
orgasm. He had not reached his yet, and as she stopped, he began to move
rapidly. She sat almost motionless, coming down from her own high, but
with her muscles still tightened to restrain her very full bladder. Then
he, too, reached his climax, and they sank into a relaxed union.

Not a word had been spoken between them. None was necessary. After she
slipped off of him, she lay on the bed, ready to drop into a deep sleep.
Reality hit her. "Bladder's still full", she thought. She got up, walked
to the bathroom, urinated profusely, then returned to the bed, still naked.
She flopped on the bed and was soon fast asleep.

In the morning, she pulled herself out of bed, aware that her husband
had already risen and gone. She reflected on the night's episode. He
didn't mind being awakened for sex, and she couldn't really complain about
his performance. It would be nice if he took note of her full bladder,
which she was sure added to his enjoyment because of the way it made her
tighten her muscles, she thought. It would have been even nicer if he had
wanted to watch her copious urination, but that was simply not his thing.
"Well", she thought, "at least he likes to look at my body and he still
likes handling my breasts".

Her thoughts turned to her birthday milestone and her erotic interests.
She had indulged herself in many fantasies concerning her fetish, dreaming
of situations where she or someone with her was preventing from emptying an
overfilled bladder, or had to urinate in front of strangers of the opposite
gender, and other similar situations. She yearned for the chance to really
experience such things, and realized that if ever she was to accomplish it,
it would need to be before her aging process impeded the possibilities. At
sixty, she could not wait forever unless she gave up the idea. She had no
intention or interest in being unfaithful, but it was apparent to her that
if she were to turn any of her urinary fantasies into reality, it would
need to be with persons other than her spouse.

In a few days, Paula was scheduled to travel with a male colleague,
about fifteen years younger than she, to a distant city where the two of
them would make a presentation at an investment seminar. They would be
gone three days. Paula was mustering her courage. She determined to
experiment just a bit during the trip. She was not going to get into an
affair with a colleague or anyone else, but this time she was going to be a
bit different.

Chapter 2

The Trip

The day of their departure, Paula arrived early at her office. She and
Erwin Kingsley, an associate of hers, were to leave on a 9:30 A.M. flight.
She joined him at about seven thirty to collect he materials they would
take. "Morning, Erwin", she began, "Have a good night? It's going to be a
long day. I checked the packing yesterday, so we need only to pick up the
last-minute items to take with us. You got the itinerary? I left it for
your yesterday."

"Right, Paula. We need to get away from here in an hour. I'll take my
car to the airport, if OK with you, and you can leave yours here. Let's
see, there's one flight connection, and I see you arranged a rental car at
our arrival airport. It will probably take a couple of hours then to drive
to Sheparton, where the hotel and seminar is. Gee, why don't they schedule
these things in cities with airports?"

"Because people with money to invest don't always live in big cities.
Many like little towns, and we have to go where they are. Want some
coffee?" she motioned toward the office coffee area. The conversed about
the day's plans while consuming two cups each. "Ready?" Paula asked, when
they had finished. "Just let me make a quick stop, and we'll be on our
way!" Erwin replied, indicating the nearby men's room. Paula's response
was "I'll wait for you. Don't be long!" She waited outside the door until
he rejoined her.

At the airport, they checked in and again Paula suggested a bit of
coffee while they waited at the gate. The flight was on time. They sat
together through the flight. Paula made a point of asking the flight
attendant for refills on the drinks offered in flight. She explained to
Erwin, "Not sure why, but I'm quite thirsty today. You want another?"
Erwin declined, commenting "No, I don't think I want to join the line at
the lavatory." Paula just smiled.

At their connecting point, they had little time. Erwin found a men's
rest room, located quite some distance from the women's. He excused
himself., pointing out the location of the female facility to Paula. She
responded, "No, thanks. I'll just wait for you. I'm fine. Then let's see
if we can get a coke or something before the flight!" She stayed outside
the door, insuring that Erwin knew she was not using the ladies' room.
When returned, they had a quick soft drink, gulped down hurriedly, before
they went for the next flight.

On board, drinks were again offered, then a lunch snack. Again, Paula
asked for refills on the drink. After she had downed both, Erwin indicated
that the lavatory now had no line in front of it, implying that she might
to avail herself of the facilities. "No, thanks", she returned. "I'm OK.
You go if need to!" He did.

Now, to be sure, Paula could feel that her bladder was very full, and
sending signals of increasing strength asking for relief. She was not
about to relieve it. She was waiting to see if Erwin would make some
comment about her apparent lack of need to relieve herself, which she
intended to use to open up a bit of an erotic conversation. She had not
much longer to wait.

When he returned from the lavatory, he sat for a moment, looked at his
watch. Then he turned to her. "If you don't mind an observation," he
began, "I've been with you for about eight hours now. You've been drinking
more than I have, and you haven't taken a single bathroom break yet. I've
had several. You amaze me. How do you do it?"

"Did someone tell you older women have weak bladders?" she answered,
almost laughingly. "Mine is strong, and I keep it that way through the
exercise it gets in long dull meetings. Well, yes, I can feel the signals
calling for a bathroom break, but I've trained myself pretty well - I think
I'll just keep holding for a while."

Erwin's curiosity was peaked. "Why don't you want to go? It just seems
odd, if you need to, why don't you?" This was exactly the conversation
Paula wanted. She was beginning to enjoy it. "I guess I just don't go
every time I feel a need. I know that I can hold, and so I often do.
Can't you hold for a while, even if you feel a need?" The discussion went
on for a bit. Meanwhile, her need was growing, her bladder becoming more
swollen, producing considerable discomfort for her. She was beginning to
squirm a bit. Erwin was obviously fascinated at this situation.

They got off the airplane at their destination airport. Paula picked up
the rental car, which she then drove. She was still unrelieved. They
started off in the direction of Sheparton, an estimated two hours drive.
Erwin again commented on Paula's failure to seek rest room facilities. "I
don't see how you do it - you've gone all day. Doesn't it hurt you?"

"You know, Erwin, I think probably you're right. I should have used the
facilities back there at the airport. But I was so busy with the baggage
and the car, I just didn't want to take the time. Yes, it is hurting.
Quite a bit, in fact. Poor judgment on my part, I suppose - I should have
taken the time." Paula was speaking the truth. At this point her bladder
was badly overfilled, and she could feel it hard and swollen. She was
doubtful that she could hold it until they arrived at their hotel. She
didn't intend to - she was about ready to give Erwin a real shock.

Less than half way into the drive, Paula pulled the car over to the side
of the road and stopped. They were in a fairly uninhabited wooded area.
She explained, "Yes, Erwin, you were right. I overestimated my bladder
capacity. I thought I could wait, but it's hurting so bad that I have to
take care of it. Let's get out!" The "let's" astounded Erwin. Why both of
them? "I'd like a lookout- I really don't want to make a spectacle of
myself!" she went on.

She posted Erwin at the front of the car, facing to the rear, on the
side away from the road. She told him to look out for cars coming from
behind them, and warn her if he saw any. Then she squatted down right in
front of him, pulling down her underwear. She released a strong urine stream, quite visible to him in the fading sunlight, and producing a
noticeable rivulet on the ground.

"Sorry to make you wait and watch this - I really should have taken care
of it back there. But - when a lady's got to go..." She was looking up at
him, smiling, as the stream poured from her. She was amazed at herself -
she was doing something she had never done before, she was actually
urinating outdoors in front of a man other than her husband; and she was
enjoying it immensely. Moreover, she sensed that he was, too.
Nonetheless, she wasn't going to pursue this further with Erwin, a bit
fearful of where it might lead. She thought she knew when to quit.

Finished, she smoothed her clothes and returned to the car. She didn't
bring up the subject in conversations with Erwin during the balance of the
trip, except for some passing remarks on the return flights about "not
making the same mistake again".

Three days later, as she returned home, she arranged that her bladder
was again full when she arrived. Her husband was home on her arrival, and
he greeted her as she came in. She quickly moved to the bedroom, where
they had a quick embrace. As she told him of the events of her trip, she
quickly shed her clothes. She then commented to him, "I have to pee so bad
it hurts - let me get these clothes off, and that's what I'm doing next!"
As she dropped the last garment from her body, she faced him, throwing out
her hands with an exclamation, "It's all here!". She paused for a moment
to give him a good view, knowing how he liked to look, then headed for the
bathroom. She hoped he would follow; he didn't. Instead, he called to
her, "Take care of it quick - we've got things to do!" She was confident
there would be a satisfactory encounter this night.

Chapter 3

The Run

Paula was not about to repeat the episode with Erwin. She didn't want
to risk any activity that might result in some kind of ongoing affair with
a working associate; but still she focused on how she might further explore
her particular private fascination. A few days after returning from her
trip, she found herself awaking on a Saturday morning at home. She was
alone today. Stan had gone into his business for a bit of extra work, and
would not be back until afternoon.

Paula arose, dressed, handled a few morning chores, and sat back for a
bit of relaxation as noonday approached. She consumed a few cups of coffee
in the morning, and now, with the warmth of the day her craving was for
something cool.

She fixed herself a large pitcher of lemonade. She liked lemonade, but
usually drank of it sparingly. This time she made it a bit weak, and only
lightly sweetened. She calculated that she could enjoy a rather large
drink, contemplating the after effects. She poured herself a large glass,
quickly downed it, and then poured another. The pitcher held, she knew,
about three pints.

Once she had emptied it, she refilled it with ice and water. Just a
touch of the taste of lemon remained. She was really no longer thirsty,
and her stomach was now feeling a bit full. She waited a few minutes, then
began drinking the water. Already her bladder was sending her signals
asking for relief, which she ignored for the moment. About an hour after
she had begun with the lemonade, she drained the last of the water. The
ice had by this time melted, so she estimated that she had consumed about
three quarts of liquid.

She made a trip to the bathroom, and emptied her quite full bladder.
Then, dressed in a casual shirt and jeans and a good pair of walking shoes,
she left the house, locking it up behind her. Paula was intending to force
herself to hold a very considerable amount in her bladder by getting
herself in a desperation situation so far from home that no immediate
relief would be available. She often exercised herself by taking long
walks in the neighborhood, and she set out on one - with an empty bladder
but a stomach sloshing with, she felt sure, about two quarts of liquid
which her kidneys would soon be sending downstairs.

Paula was a good walker. She took herself about eight blocks from her
home, in the suburban neighborhood with which she was familiar, and where
many of the local inhabitants knew her. Occasionally, she would extend a
greeting to someone she saw, or even stop for a momentary conversation.
Farther and farther she roamed from her home. Now she could feel fullness
in her bladder, but she kept going.

She passed a house where an elderly man was working in his garden. She
had encountered him before, and knew him only by the name on his mailbox.
She greeted him cheerily. "Hi there, Mr. Jorgenson- how are the flowers

The older man stood up, recognized her, and returned the greeting as he
wiped the sweat from his brow. They exchanged casual comments about the
weather and the state of his flower garden. "Would you like to see the
newest addition to our grove? Let me show you the trees around the back!"
He motioned for her to follow him, as he moved to the rear of the house.
There followed a detailed review of a number of plants he had recently
acquired, including two trees he had just planted. Paula listened with
polite interest, but as the discourse went on, she began to fidget
noticeably, shifting her weight from one foot to another.

After a bit, he noticed her obvious nervousness, and detected its cause.
"You feel OK? You seem a bit nervous. Do you need a rest stop - you can
go inside--"

She shook her head, realizing that he had recognized the symptoms she
was showing. She decided to have just a touch of an erotic game in the
conversation. "Well, you are observant. You know I need to go the
bathroom, I guess." She hesitated, as he stared at her, a bit aghast at her
frank admission. "Truth is", she went on, knowing she was engaging in a
lie, "I'm not supposed to; but thank you anyway!"

"It's OK - you're welcome to use the bathroom in the house - it's all
right, and it's clean," he offered.

She shook her head again. "It isn't that I don't want to", she went on,
continuing her fib, "I'm not supposed to. My doctor feels I have been
going too often, and that I need to stretch my bladder. So I'm doing my
exercises - I'm supposed to drink a lot of water, and then just hold myself
as long as I can. It's to train me not to go so often."

"Must be quite uncomfortable. Anyway, you're welcome."

Clearly the gentleman was a bit embarrassed by the subject matter.
Paula, meanwhile, continued to move about a bit nervously, letting him know
she was in some distress while trying to do as she had said her doctor

She stayed a bit with Mr. Jorgenson, exchanging views of gardening with
him. From time to time she made a subtle reference to her internal
discomfort, noting that this seemed to embarrass him further. She felt
just a bit titillated at his reaction.

As time went on, she was aware that her need was quite real. She was
restraining herself, but at length felt compelled to make her farewell lest
her composure fail in his presence. She began to make her way onward.
Perhaps she should have moved back towards her home, but she was determined
to test her endurance as much as possible, and continued to proceed in the
opposite direction. .

She walked another two blocks, stopping at intervals to exchange
greetings with residents. Her need was now approaching the limits of her
ability to restrain herself, and she began giving thoughts to where she
might find relief. It occurred to her that if she had worn a skirt she
might be able to attend to her need outdoors while drawing minimal
attention to her activity, but she was wearing jeans. She would have to
lower them, or wet them. She began to have a bit of regret about having
placed herself in this situation.

About a block ahead lay a small patch of wooded ground, an undeveloped
island in this suburban neighborhood. It was not much shelter, and at
other times she would never have thought of it, but now she was indeed
grasping at straws.

She reached the place, looking around. Down the street a little,
several children were playing in the street and parkways. Across the
street there was a house, perhaps occupied, perhaps not. She saw no
evidence of anyone about. Another house adjoining the wooded area was
screened from it by a bit of thick undergrowth.

She decided she must chance it. She stepped into the area, under the
trees. Ste stood beside a large tree, her back almost against it, as she
looked out toward the street. There was perhaps ten feet of area filled
with low undergrowth between her and the street. Her back against the
tree, she reached down and unbuckled her belt. Looking straight ahead, and
trying to appear nonchalant, she unfastened the jeans. With the fasteners
undone, she allowed them to drop down, while she continued to stand,
looking out toward the street.

The jeans fell to her knees. Quickly, she grasped her cotton panties and pulled them down in a quick stroke, simultaneously lowering herself to
a squatting position.

She commanded her muscles to release. It took a few seconds for her
body to respond, but it did, sending her stream rushing to the ground. Oh,
the relief she felt. She held the squat, feeling at once exposed,
stimulated, and relieved.

Suddenly her heart seemed to skip a beat. A man, perhaps fifty or so,
walking a dog on a leash, came into view, passing down the sidewalk only a
few feet away.

He passed directly in front of her. Suddenly he spotted her. He turned
and stared at the sight, a bit in disbelief.

“Good Afternoon, beautiful day isn’t it?” Paula cheerily said to him,
still pouring out her stream. She could hardly believe she had mustered
the courage to even speak to him.

He just stared at her. Then he asked, “Just what are you doing?”

“And what does it look like?” Paula responded. She looked at the man closely, hoping she would not recognize him. She did not.

He stared, in apparent unbelief. “Lady, you shouldn’t be…” he stopped
himself, shaking his head.

“You’re walking your dog, aren’t you?” Paul asked, her stream
continuing. “Well, I was walking, and, well, when a lady has to go, it’s
just like the dog- “

He stood, still staring. Suddenly, his head shaking, he averted his
eyes and began to move on.

Paula finished her activity, and quickly drew up her underwear and
pants. She failed to wipe up, having nothing around for the purpose.

“Bye, now - nice seeing you!” she called cheerfully to the man, now
several steps down the road.

She emerged from the small wooded place, and quickly stepped off in the
opposite direction from the stranger. By a different and somewhat confused
route, she found her way back home.

The episode dwelt in her brain. She would not have sought to be seen,
yet it was wonderfully exciting to be caught. She just hoped the man would
not recognize her. She considered with a bit of horror the consequences if
one of her neighbors should learn of her activity. She felt a strange mix
of embarrassment, erotic arousal, and apprehension.

Chapter 4


Paula’s mind kept coming back to the situations in which she placed
herself. She felt an almost irresistible urge to engage in the activities
she had found so stimulating, knowing at her age that time was running out
on her, yet she knew whatever she chose to do must be done with utmost
discretion. She could not chance further episodes involving someone like
Erwin, or another co-worker. Also, if she continued to engage in outdoor
activities as she had done on Saturday, surely she would be seen and word
would get back to Stan or others who knew her well. As exhilarating as the
experience had been, she knew she could not safely continue it. Somehow,
somewhere, she wanted to find an opportunity to engage in something just a
bit wild, something that would test her physical limits and would play to
her psychological needs. Something, she knew, for which her husband would
not have either sympathy or enthusiasm.

Gradually she realized her best opportunity would be on her frequent
business trips. She was a frequent traveler, though in the not so distant
future she would be facing retirement and her opportunities would fade.
Just now, though, she had several trips scheduled over the coming several
weeks. Surely, somewhere is those places she was scheduled to visit, would
be a place or an event in which she might indulge those fantasies that kept
running through her head.

She went over the little booklets she had picked up in her travels -
those that listed activities, places of interest, and scheduled events in
local areas. She had saved these when she traveled. She scanned personal
ads in the newspaper, looking for something that might suggest the
opportunity she sought.

As she had the chance, she began to scan internet sites on places of
what seemed to be called alternative life styles. Many of these looked
frightening, but she was intrigued. She found sites describing clubs and
events which, at a younger age, she would never have found of interest, but
now they seemed strangely attractive. None could she find, however, that
seemed to fit the profile of a sixty year old female looking for a very
special kind of experience in a setting that would be both safe and deeply
erotic in her special way.

She found message boards that seemed to speak to some of her interest.
Over several days, she scanned them, looking for an indication of some
coming activity that might relate to the needs she perceived. She found
few, and never did she respond, feeling a strong inhibition against
entering into the discussions. After all, these were, it seemed, younger
people, and who knows what kind of reply she might get if she indicated any
interest in the subjects?

For two weeks she monitored boards and sites, looking for something that
seemed to fit her interests. Finally, she mustered her courage, and posted
a brief comment on a board that seemed to have most appeal. Her short
message, simply said, “Older woman interested in experiencing alt life
experience, esp mild bondage, maybe urinary control. Can travel. Any
places in…” she added several geographic regions where she might travel,
but not including her home locality. She added no e-mail address, but
signed with a pseudonym “Pauline”. Now, she thought, that wasn’t Paula,
but close enough she could relate to it.

Nervously, a day later she opened the site. There were several replies,
generally courteous but not specific. Three suggested web sites she might
visit. Two simply said they would reply if she would post an e-mail

Nervously, reluctantly, she decided to add her e-mail. She took the
precaution of obtaining a new mail box, for which she gave the name of
Pauline Inquirer. She thought that would sound like the pseudonym it was.

Within a day she opened her mail box to view an assortment of messages.
Many were SPAM directing her to pornographic sites. Several made crude
overtures which she quickly deleted. She began to regret making her
address available.

Nonetheless, she visited the suggested web sites and links which took
her to others. Discouraged and frustrated, she gave up the effort and
stopped looking at the e-mail in the Pauline box. For days she never
opened it.

Then, one evening, a bit bored, she decided to check it again. Wading
through junk messages, she found little of interest until almost the end.
Then, she opened a message addressed to Pauline.

“Pauline. Perhaps we can show you something that will interest you. If
you are truly interested in an event and an adventure that you will find
safe and stimulating, among people who will respect you and protect your
privacy, contact me.” A location was mentioned that was in one of the areas
she had listed. The message was signed simply “Mitch“.

She thought carefully. In two weeks she had a presentation to make in
an area near the city mentioned. The message intrigued her.

She drafted her reply several times, rethinking after each effort. At
long last she came up with one that seemed to convey her thoughts, but with
a suitable degree of reserve.

“Mitch”, she wrote. “Your suggestion is of interest to me. Your
location is indeed an area which I might reach in the near future, but
perhaps you will tell me more of the type of experience you might offer.
Safety and privacy is of great concern. I must tell you again I am an
older person, sixty at present, and am unfamiliar with events of this type,
which nonetheless interest me. Pauline.”

She waited for a response. In two days it came.

“Pauline. The society of which I am a part conducts events for our
members and invited guests, usually monthly. The events we plan involve
alternative lifestyles, elements of what some would call power exchanges,
sometimes involving elements of bodily display, but we never permit either
forced or consensual sexual contact among participants. Our events are
private, and names of participants are not made known. The limits of each
participant is respected, and each must consent to the activity in advance.
Urinary control is a feature of interest to many of our members, and is
often featured, as is bodily exposure involving mild forms of restraint.
Age is not a limiting factor. If you wish to explore interest, respond as
you may wish.”

Paula’s heart leapt. She could hardly believe she had reached such a
group, in reality. It seemed somewhat like a dream.

Then she thought carefully. “What am I getting myself into?” she
wondered. “Is it safe? Even though he says so, what will I really
experience? How can I be sure?”

She hesitated another two days, then dispatched a carefully thought out

Quickly she had a response. The pace of the exchange picked up. She
found out that there was indeed an event planned for a Friday evening of
the week she was to make her next trip, to a location only a few miles
away. The event was set for eight o’clock on Friday evening, to run until
well past midnight. Mitch had indicated she could visit, as a guest, if
she chose, and observe the proceedings.

“But not”, Mitch added to his message, “as our Special Guest. To be a
Special Guest you would need to consent to some very special arrangements
that would be made just for you, and this we would only do after you had
visited with us and decided you wanted to participate in this way.”

Paula wondered just what the “Special Guest” status might involve. She
had an idea it would be considerably more than just being an observer.
Mitch did make it clear, though, that as a visiting first time guest, she
would incur no cost, be under no obligation, and could leave at any time
she chose.

Paula was still uneasy about the situation. Acknowledging she could be
in the area, she asked how she might get to the place of the event, and
indicated she would prefer not to go alone or in the company of an unknown

In response. Mitch assured her a woman could meet her and pick her up,
and would give her the exact location before they departed. If she then
felt uncomfortable with the arrangements, she could opt to decline

She debated the wisdom of what she was doing. None of this, of course,
had she made known to Stan. He knew only that she would be leaving on
Wednesday and would not be back until some time on Saturday. She started
to work out her itinerary around Mitch’s invitation.

She planed to depart early Wednesday afternoon. Her seminar and
presentation was scheduled for Thursday. Friday morning she had
tentatively scheduled a meeting with two clients. She knew she could well
finish and return home Friday evening, but she elected to stay over Friday
night and schedule a flight home on Saturday. She could devise a plausible
reason for her delayed return to explain to Stan. Her company would care
not at all as she would not again be in her office until Monday anyway.

She made her arrangements.

Chapter 5

Trial and Invitation

Her trip went much as planned. Late Friday morning she concluded her
client meetings and prepared to return to her hotel.

She had been given by e-mail a telephone number she should call, once in
the city. In her room, she looked at the telephone and at the card on
which she had written the number. Twice she picked up the telephone,
started to make the call, then put it down again. She realized she was
opening the door to an adventure fraught with uncertainty. She sat down
and thought over what she was doing.

“It is now or never”, she said to herself. Steeling her resolve, she
picked up the telephone a third time. She dialed the number. She heard it
ringing. A part of her hoped there would be no reply, but it did come. A
female voice responded.

“Hello, this is Mrs. Jameson. May I help you?”

Paula was uncertain whether she had reached some kind of business or
whether this was a home. “I am Pauline Inquirer”, she began, her voice
shaking. “I was told to call this number!”

“Oh, Pauline!” The voice on the other end suddenly seemed warm and
enthusiastic. “We have been awaiting for your call. Will you be with us

She hesitated a moment, but then, reassured by the warmth of the
friendly voice, replied. “Well, yes. I am back at my hotel. I had
planned to attend this evening. How shall I do it?”

“Pauline, you can call me Hilda. If it is OK with you, I will pick you
up this evening about seven. My friend Iris will be with me. We will take
you to the party in our car, and we will bring you back to the hotel when
it is over. Have no fear - you will be quite safe, and we hope you like
our event. Mitch has told me a bit about you!”

They exchanged a bit of information to insure recognition. Paula
inquired as to appropriate attire, and was told to come in something
casual. Again she was assured of her safety, and that she need have no real
cause for concern.

Paula felt better. She relaxed a bit in the afternoon, reflecting that
it might be a long night. Around six, she took a shower and began to dress
for the evening. She chose dark blue slacks and a print blouse, with
casual flat heeled shoes and no stockings. She fixed her hair in a rather
casual look, and draped a colored scarf around her neck. She smiled at
herself, thinking her appearance neither too young and foolish for a woman
her age, nor was it seeming to show signs of senility.

She went downstairs at the appointed hour to meet her hostesses. Just a
bit after seven, a car pulled up to the front of the hotel with two women
in it. One stepped out of the passenger’s seat and approached her. The
woman was in a denim shirt and jeans - light hair, perhaps thirty
something. She looked at Paula.

“Mrs. Inquirer?” she asked.

“Yes, I am. Are you Hilda Jameson?”

“That’s me. So glad to see you! You are right on time. Here, I want
you to meet Iris, who’s driving us tonight!” She indicated a slightly older woman at the wheel.

They started off immediately, exchanging casual comments about the
weather and the local area. Then Hilda asked Paula, “I am going to assume
Pauline Inquirer is a pseudonym - a sort of nom de guerre! Many of our
visitors prefer to give such names when they first visit us - I’m not
critical! It’s perfectly OK. I just want you to know that Hilda Jameson
is my real name, and it is in the phone book, should you want to check!”

Paula did feel a bit reassured. The women did seem friendly, and
certainly not threatening. They told Paula little of the coming event, but
indicated it was being held in a private facility a bit out of town.
“Allows us to have some outdoor events. Most of the time we meet in a
place in town, and some of our things you just cannot do with the neighbors
watching! Pauline, you know we are not a swingers’ club- nothing like that
goes on, but we do, well, kind of cut loose - we do things that might seem
exhibitionistic or rather kinky to some. Tonight you won’t be expected to
participate in any of that, but you will be able to watch, if you care

“And later, maybe, you just might want to participate at another time”
Iris interjected.

After a time, they pulled into a lot adjoining what seemed to be a large
house in a fairly isolated spot. Trees surrounded the adjoining grounds,
and she could see in the fading light that the building was well lit
inside, and the number of parked cars suggested a gathering of several
dozen people.

Her companions escorted into the house, where she was greeted
immediately by a man who identified himself as Mitch. He was a man of
perhaps forty five, dark haired, slender, not overly tall, and displaying a
pleasant countenance and somewhat jovial demeanor.

Pauline was quickly introduced to many of the guests. She was received
in a warm manner as a visiting guest, one whom it was frequently stated,
they hoped would return. A bar was serving drinks, none of which she noted
were alcoholic, and a buffet table was set with food.

Mitch commented on the bar. “We do not serve alcohol at our parties.
That insures all of the guests are aware of what they are doing and no one
is going to be unduly pressured into anything because his judgement has
been numbed.”

Paula began to feel relaxed and welcome. She noted that she was easily
the oldest person present, as most were evidently in their thirties and
forties, only a few being younger or older. No one, however, seemed to
make much of her age or her graying hair.

After an hour or so of easy relaxation with food and drink, she noticed
some changes. Signs were being posted marking what were called “Game
Rooms”, numbered one and two. Another sign on a door indicated the “Relief
Race” would be held outside starting at ten o’clock, but prospective
participants were warned to begin preparations at nine.

As she circulated, she noted some changes in the guests, themselves.
The first shock took place when she noticed a female guest hang up her
shirt on a coat rack, and continue to circulate in her bra. She knew the
guests were not getting drunk, because of the no-alcohol rule, yet it was
obvious that informality was being taken to a new level. Between Hilda,
Iris, and Mitch, she was given a tour of the facility and the events that
were going on.

Hilda explained. “This is what we call an informal party, where all of
the members can get in a relaxed mode and do things that are a bit
unconventional- just things you wouldn’t ordinarily do in public. Next
month we will probably have a Special Guest party - that‘s where the
members stay more formal and the attention is focused on someone invited to
be the Special Guest - we have a committee that plans a series of events
for the Special Guest which the rest of us can enjoy watching! Tonight
there’s no Special Guest - so it’s really just the members doing their

She went on. “We really do have a dress code - After nine, anyone who
wants to can be topless. But no one can be totally naked before midnight,
unless they are participants in one of the Game Room Events, or the Relief
Race. After midnight, you don’t have to wear anything if you don’t want
to. But no one has to totally undress - it’s purely optional.”

They passed a bathroom, the door of which was open. She noted a strong
cord tied around the door handle, keeping it in the open position.

Hilda explained. “Another of our features of informality. There are
two bathrooms here - not for men and women, though, anybody can use either.
But the rule is the doors are never closed - the doors are tied open, and
you have to leave them that way. There’s another rule- any time some one
uses the bathroom, it has to be with someone of opposite gender! You can
go in and do whatever you need to, as long as you take someone of the other
gender to keep you company and watch. Also, anyone else who wants to watch
is allowed to. So don’t count on any privacy in the bathroom!”

“Of course, if you are entered in the relief race you won’t be using the
bathroom. But we’ll get to that later!”

In Game Room Number One, she saw three women busily tying a man to an
upright post. The man, she was only slightly surprised to notice, was
naked. His hands were bound behind the post. A spreader bar was being
tied to his ankles, requiring him to stand with his feet perhaps thirty
inches apart. His sexual equipment was prominently displayed, and the
women were regulating applying light touches to his penis, apparently to
keep it erect, but not stimulate him to any physical relief.

In Room Number Two, a female member was the object of attention. She
was standing in the center of the room, her clothing lying at her feet, her
arms raised above her head, crossed, and tied to a rope attached to a hook
in the ceiling. Her legs were unrestrained, but the tension of the rope on
her hands compelled her to stand very erect, leaving her little latitude to
move her legs.

A group of men and women stood around, looking at her, occasionally
grasping her nipples and stretching her breasts.

Paula stood and looked, both shocked and stimulated by the scene. “Why
her?” she asked. “Is she being punished for something? How long will she
be tied there?”

Hilda smiled. “No, she’s not being punished. She has volunteered to be
the subject in this game. She will stand there twenty minutes, and then
another will take her place. No one will pull her nipples hard enough to
really hurt her, and anyway, she will get to do it to the next person. If
she wants to, afterward, she can go into room number one and do a little
teasing on the male volunteer.”

“What is the Relief Race? I don’t understand- “ Paula was interested.

“Let’s go outside. You might just love this one.”

They went out the door marked for the “Relief Race”. She could see a
group of people standing around a table, indulging in a variety of liquid
refreshments from assorted drink containers.

“They’re getting ready”, Hilda said. “The race is played with two
teams, one of men and one of women. They have to prepare themselves by
drinking a couple of liters of drinks, each. They start about nine, and
about ten they’re usually ready. This is reminiscent of the old Greek
Athletic Contests, where the participants had to be naked. So, as you can
see, they have all stripped.”

The event was obviously popular, as a number of others had come out to
watch the race. The area was outside, shielded by trees, and floodlit
well. There was an open field before them, and in the distance, perhaps a
hundred yards away, a barrel standing as a marker.

The naked participants, five men and five women, seemed to be getting
ready. With a dark marker, each participant was labelled with a number
ranging from one to five, the number being marked on his or her back, and
again on his or her stomach.

“Did you ever race with a stomach full of liquid?” Hilda asked. “It
does make running a bit more difficult. Of course, by now, they will all
have full bladders, too. The bathrooms are off limits to them until later!
Imagine how it feels to run a race with your bladder almost bursting!”

The race master began to give instructions. The five men would go
first. They would run to and around the barrel, and return to the starting
line. First across the line was the winner, who would be awarded the
prize, which he would choose. After the prize was handled, the second race
would begin, this time between the women.

“What is the prize?” Paula asked of Hilda.

“One they will really enjoy. The teams are really partners, man number
one is the partner of Woman number one, and so on. The man who wins can
elect to either stand in front of the spectators and urinate, and he can
let his female partner do the same. He has to make the choice. If he lets
his female partner take relief instead of himself, then she does not have
to run in the women’s race, but he has to continue in the next race for
men. If he takes it for himself, then he no longer has to race but she
does. The catch is that both of them probably have aching bladders, and
everyone likes to watch the winner and see how far his gallantry will go.”

They watched the men run. The onlookers, especially the five women
participants, cheered them on lustily. The men ran around he barrel, and
then back to the start line. One man led the pack, and of course was given
the winner’s option.

He stood a moment, his lady partner looking at him hopefully. He
pointed to her. Delighted, she stepped forward, turned to face the crowd,
squatted, and poured out a huge stream as she relieved her bladder in front
of the onlookers.

Next, the women raced. The men found this particularly interesting, as
they looked at the bouncing breasts of the running women as they rounded
the barrel and dashed back to the start line. The first came to a stop,
her chest heaving and her nipples shaking, as she smilingly accepted her
honor. She thought a moment before making her decision, then pointed to
her male partner. He stepped forward, hands behind his back, standing
facing the crowd, and discharged the contents of his bladder as onlookers
watched and cheered.

The races continued, as the distress of the participants grew more
severe and more obvious. The next male winner chose to take the relief
himself, to the chagrin of his lady, who would have very much liked the

Finally there were only one man and one woman left unrelieved. The race
was over; they were the losers. They were made to stand back to back, as a
rope was fastened around their waists binding them together. Thus bound,
they were to walk the length of the course, with promise of relief when the
reached the start line. After several false starts, because they stumbled
and tripped each other, they finally made it. They stood, still bound,
urinating in unison while the crowd watched, before being released.

Mitch joined Paula as she observed the end of the Relief Race incident.

“Did you like it?” he asked of her.

Paula hardly knew how to respond. Games of this type were new to her.
She had never watched such activities before. She nodded, and showed Mitch
an affirming smile.

“It will soon be midnight. Some of the guests will be adjusting their
attire. You are aware of the rules?”

“Yes,” Paula indicated. “I am aware. Right now, though, I am not sure
I am ready to participate - however, I will surely watch. However-” her
voice trailed off.

“Is there something you need?” Mitch asked her.

“Frankly, yes. After watching all that activity, and the relief of all
those bladders, I need to use the bathroom. I understand the rules require
that I have a male escort?”

Mitch nodded. “Yes, that is part of it. Can I assist?”

“Yes - would you be my escort?” Paula asked.

“I should be honored!” Mitch replied.

They made their way to one of the open, well lit bathrooms. Paula
entered, a bit hesitantly. She looked at Mitch, as though she did not
quite know what to do.

“I can’t show you how, Pauline”, he said in an amused way, “You should
know that on your own!”

She nodded, almost blushing. Slowly, she unfastened her slacks.
Nervously, she slipped them down. Then, as she seated herself on the
toilet, she slipped down her underwear. He stood in front of her, clearly
watching the proceedings. She also saw another man behind him, also

“I haven’t been doing this with an audience”, she noted. “It may take
me a bit!”

It did take her a while, but eventually the sound of her stream made
itself known. She looked up at Mitch, not really knowing what to say.
What kind of conversation to do conduct while you are urinating, she

When her stream ended, she took a bit of paper and, almost out of habit,
wiped herself. She drew up her clothing, flushed the toilet, and stood
fastening her slacks.

“Next event?” she asked him.

They walked back through the house, socializing with the guests. She
saw many of the women now in panties and bras, some in just panties.
Several men were in just underpants, their erections in some cases quite
noticeable. She was impressed with the civility and decorum which seemed
to prevail, despite the increasing state of undress.

At midnight, Iris came up to them. “The witching hour! Now I can truly
be informal!” she observed, slipping her last piece of underwear from her
body. Naked, she looked at Paula and Mitch.

“Pauline”, she addressed Paula, “I hope this is not making you feel
uncomfortable. I don’t feel embarrassed or ashamed at all, now; I just
feel released. I can enjoy being looked at for awhile. You don’t have to
do it, but think about it. You just might like it!”

Paula was thinking. Mitch had not disrobed at all, perhaps out of
concern for Paula’s feelings.

The party, despite the increasing evidence of nudity, became quieter
than before. People sank into social conversation, only occasionally
making reference to each other’s private parts, or touching them.

At length, Mitch got to the obvious point.

“Pauline, do you feel safe here? Were you afraid of what might happen
to you?”

“No, not now. I am not quite sure what I felt. But I liked it - I was
seeing things I had only daydreamed about.”

“Would you like to come back?”

“As a visiting guest, another time?” Paula asked.

“As our Special Guest, if you are up to it. You would make an excellent
Special Guest.” Mitch was enthusiastic, as usual.

“You mean, where everyone else would be, shall we say, more formal, and
I would get the special treatment?”

“Absolutely. Would you like that?”

“Mitch, I do have limits. I rather liked the games, especially the
bladder restraint that went into the Relief Races. I could take some
urinary restraint, and some physical distress, perhaps like the girls in
Room Number Two, but - I wouldn’t want to be penetrated, and I wouldn’t
want to be hurt in any way that would show up later.”

“Your limits, Pauline, would have absolute respect!”

“I am, after all, Mitch, an older woman. I hope I could handle it as
well as those that are younger, but, well, I must be sure of my limits!”

“You would be wonderful, Pauline. Wonderful!”.

Their conversation went on a bit. She determined the date for the next
event. Obviously Mitch would like her to be the Special Guest for that,
but she wasn’t sure. They left it that she would let him know in the next
few days.

It was well after midnight when the first guests began to leave. Hilda
approached Paula and asked if she was coming to the time she wanted to
leave. After a short time, she made her farewells, and left the house to
return to Iris’s car. By now Iris had regained her clothing, and one
looking at her would not have guessed that she was cavorting in the
altogether a few minutes earlier.

The women dropped Paula at her hotel door. She thanked them and went

She returned home on Saturday. By Monday she had made her decision. A
simple e-mail went to Mitch.

“I will be the Special Guest next month. I will be at the same hotel as
before. Call me Paula Guest.”

Chapter 6

The Ordeal

The appointed day had arrived. Paula had arranged a business trip for
the day before, Thursday.. She had good reason to be in the area. Before
leaving home she had told Stan she would be back Sunday morning, remaining
a bit longer so as to achieve the lower fares available if she stayed
Saturday night. She explained that her Thursday and Friday events would be
a bit exhausting, and she didn't want to tire herself further by having to
travel late Friday night. She would wait until Sunday morning to give
herself a comfortable rest, and easy trip, and save fare at the same time.
It seemed plausible. No one questioned her reasoning. She let it go at

As it worked out, she was finished by noon on Friday. Her instructions
from Mitch had been to look for a note of instructions at her hotel, and to
be ready for her guest appearance Friday evening. She was told it would be
a long night, so she had planned to allow herself Saturday (or what might
be left of it) to recover from the event, the travel home Sunday morning.
So far, it was working well.

She returned to her hotel about two Friday afternoon. As she stopped at
the front desk, she inquired, "Is there any message for me? Paula Manzoni,
Room 512. Or, excuse me, it might be addressed to Paula Guest - that was
my maiden name". The clerk looked around a bit, then came up with an
envelope. "Yes, mam. This was left for Paula Guest this morning. We
didn't have anyone by that name, so we held it. You say that's you?"

"Yes. I used to use that name professionally, so I get mail that way at
times. Thanks."

Her heart was racing a bit as she took the envelope to her room. She
locked the door, sat down, and opened it carefully. She then read:

"Dear Paula:

Please call me at the number below, to confirm that you are here and
still want to go ahead with being our Special Guest. You know what this
entails, so I won't elaborate further. We have an exciting time planned
for you, and we just need to be sure you are still ready and want to
participate. After you have confirmed you willingness, here's what you are
to do.

You will probably want to wear a dress. It would be quite appropriate,
but please don't wear stockings or pantyhose. Otherwise, select a dress or
something with a skirt and appropriate underwear as you prefer. You will
not need a hat or a belt. Wear no jewelry, no earrings, no accessories.
Do not carry a purse - you will not need anything. If you want to carry a
phone number or something like that, carry it in a dress pocket or fasten
it in your dress. We want you carrying nothing. Do not eat before leaving
the hotel, and we suggest you drink lightly, if at all. Be in the lobby at
6:30 P.M. A taxi will arrive to pick you up and bring you to our party.
You will be paged as 'Paula Guest' when it arrives. You will need no fare
- it will be paid by your hosts. We will also see that you are returned to
the hotel after our party. Leave your room key at the desk. Carry
nothing, except your courage! You will need it! See you tonight."

At the bottom was a local phone number. She hesitated a while, then,
nervously dialed it. A female voice answered. Paula began, "This is Paula
Guest - I have a note..." The voice on the other end interrupted,
excitedly. "Paula! we're delighted. You will be with us tonight?" "Yes, I
will", Paula answered, quite nervous. Her response was acknowledged with,
"Then look for your pickup at 6:30. We can hardly wait! See you tonight.

Paula could hardly rest all afternoon. What had she got herself into?
Well, she was determined to see it through. The very fact that she was
facing some unknown event was exciting to her, and she knew she would be
the focus of some terribly demanding activities that would test her
endurance, probably embarrass and somewhat torment her, and surely would
make demands on her bladder. She felt both fearful of what would happen,
but confident that she take the treatment they would give her.

She tried to rest, but the excitement made it difficult. Around five
o'clock she began preparing herself. She showered, carefully checked and
brushed her gray hair, grooming herself carefully. She choose a simple
black dress, with the length just below the knee. Beneath it she wore her
white bra and panties and a white half slip. As she dressed, she wondered
how much of her clothing she would keep on through the evening. Strongly
she suspected it would not be everything she now was putting on.

Following instructions, she tucked a small note with her address, hotel,
and room number into a small pocket in her dress. She wore no jewelry, no
watch, and only a single clip in her hair. She left her purse behind.
Carrying only her room key, she went down to lobby at 6:20. Leaving the
key at the desk, she sat down and waited.

At 6:35, a man entered the lobby, speaking to the doorman. He turned
and searched the room with his eyes. Paula didn't wait - she came directly
to the door. The man looked at her, "Are you Paula Guest? I am supposed
to pick up a passenger by that name. " "I am Paula", she answered. The
man ushered her outside to a waiting taxi. Evidently he was the taxi
driver. "I am to take you to this address," he began, offering her a slip
of paper. "OK with you? They are paying for it- you don't have to!" "OK",
Paula answered, settling back rather nervously.

The taxi drove for some distance, several miles she guessed, finally
stopping at a well lit building in what seemed to be a commercial
neighborhood, though there was not much business at this hour. The driver
opened the door. As he did so, a familiar face appeared. "Welcome, Paula!
We're pleased to have you!" Paula turned, a bit relieved to see Mitch.
"I'm glad to come - looking forward to it!"

"You know you are going to be in for a rough night, don't you? Sure you
want to go ahead - last chance to back out!"

"I'm ready. My limits are understood, Mitch, aren't they? "

"Paula, we know and we agreed. No violence, you won't be penetrated or
injured - but the committee has planned a lot of things for you - and a lot
of it may come as a surprise! Come, on let's go in!"

Paula was escorted down a corridor into a room filled with people. The
room was well lit, and a party seemed to be going on. The participants
were all nicely dressed, and were wearing some kind of name tags. A table
was spread with snack food, and another was supplied with drinks, mostly
fruit juices and soft drinks.

Paula was handled a badge reading, "Paula - SPECIAL GUEST", in large
letters. It was pinned to her dress. Mitch brought her to a nice looking
man of about forty five or fifty, slender, with just a touch of gray.
"Paula," Mitch began, "This is Eric. He is Chair of the Committee that has
arranged the activity for our Special Guest. He will be taking charge of
you a bit later on." Paula and Eric shook hands. Eric offered a short
explanation, " You are going to have a rough night, Paula, but it's for the
enjoyment of all, and, we hope, for you, too. May I ask, how old are you?"

"Sixty", Paula answered, immediately.

"And not shy about it!" Eric answered. "Paula, you are the oldest
Special Guest we've ever had. We are delighted to have an older lady who
wants to be a Special Guest, but you will find it rough going."

"I'm ready" answered Paula, anxious to find out what was in store.

"Then", said Eric, "Let's get started. Come up here. He escorted her
to a side of the room, where he called for the attention of the group,
perhaps fifty or sixty people.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he addressed the group, rapidly quieting down.
"Our Special Guest has arrived, so let me introduce her. This is Paula!"
He took Paula's arm, and raised it. The group instantly applauded.

Eric went on. "Our Special Guest is here, and we will start having her
meet the rest of us. Looking her over, it seems as though she has received
her instructions and complied with them. As you know, we won't be inviting
her to join us in the food, though the rest of you may continue to indulge.
I am sure she has not eaten, however, and we don't want her to go into the
evening's festivities with an empty stomach. So, I will now ask her to
introduce herself to each of you. Please begin to form our welcoming line
at the drink table."

A number of the attendees began to line up at the table holding the
drinks. Eric escorted Paula to the head of the line. "Paula, we have
sixty four persons registered for tonight, and we want you to start meeting
them. We want you to have a few words and a drink with each person here.
You will now tell the person at the head of the line what you prefer to
drink - you can choose from whatever is on the table. The first person
will give you a glass of what you choose, and will introduce himself or
herself and speak to you a moment while you consume your drink. That
person will then remove the red sticker from his badge and stick it on your
dress (don't worry - they come off easily, later). When you have finished
your drink, the next will greet you, and you will choose a drink, either
the same or different, which that person will get you. You will then go
through this until you have met everyone here. Please-" he indicated the
first person in line.

Paula choose orange juice, and was handed a glass. she guessed perhaps
a four ounce glass. In her mind she calculating - she was going to have to
drink sixty-four glasses, probably 256 ounces, about two gallons. How
could she possibly do this?

Paula tried to remain cordial, for the people were all friendly. As
people finished with her, more joined the line. After half an hour or so,
Paula was feeling a bit full - she had lost count, but thought she had
drunk around twenty glasses. Eric came up to her. "Paula, you didn't
think we would expect you to drink sixty four glasses here in one
continuous series, did you? Of course not - you will need a break! We're
going to give you a break in greeting the people, while we let you
circulate a bit, and I make a few announcements. Then we will only
introduce you to about ten more here - the rest can make their
introductions a bit later on."

Eric led Paula away from the line for a few minutes, giving her a bit of
a rest from her liquid dinner, and allowing her to meet people a bit more
freely. Eric made an announcement. "It's now 7:45 - we are going to begin
the ceremonies in the Guest Room in half an hour. We're going to let Paula
meet another dozen of you here, and then we will escort her to the Guest
Room. We know many of you will want to join her for the ceremonies there."

Paula felt her pulse race a bit at the thought of the "Guest Room" - she
was sure some unpleasant experiences awaited here there. After a few
minutes of standing and holding conversations, she was returned to the line
and again began downing a glass offered by each person in line.

8:15 came soon. While Paula had lost count, she knew she had a full
stomach, and her bladder was getting full, too. In a few minutes she knew
it would be quite uncomfortable. At the appointed time, Eric ended the
receiving line. He took Paula by the arm, and escorted her down the hall
and down a stairwell then into a large room clearly labeled by a large
hand-drawn sign on the door, "Guest Room".

Paula entered the room and quickly took it in. Had she not been
expecting a rough experience, she would have been shocked. As it was, she
just tried to quickly figure out what would happen to her.

The room was large, probably big enough to hold all the attendees. It
was almost bare of furniture, with only about four chairs standing against
the walls. The room had a tile or terrazzo floor with no rug. The room
was well lit, and two stands held large light fixtures, such as
photographers use to illuminate subjects. In one corner was a coat tree on
which hung several wire hangars. On the wall opposite the door was a large
plastic chest, similar to an ice chest, the contents of which she could not
even guess. A bucket and a pitcher, with several towels, sat beside the

But the object that drew Paula's interest was in the center of the room.
There was a platform, perhaps a foot high, covered with a plastic cover,
carefully tacked down. A portable step stood in front of it. Above the
platform, affixed to the ceiling, was a metal ring. A length of rope
reached from behind the platform, up to and through the ring, then down
again, it's end evidently behind the platform.

As Paula surveyed the scene, she had absolutely no doubt where she would
be placed. She was not disappointed. Eric led her to the platform,
indicated the step, and had her ascend it. She stood atop the platform,
and turned to face Eric. "Welcome, Special Guest Paula", he began,
speaking not only to her but to the crowd that now had assembled in the
room and stood on all sides of her.

"Are you enjoying our hospitality?" Eric asked her.

Paula responded, "Yes, you have been very nice."

"Have you had enough to drink, or any you thirsty for more? We don't
want you suffering from thirst, do we?"

"I think that I have had plenty to drink, Eric!" she answered quickly,
not sure where this was going to lead.

"Before we go further, are you uncomfortable for any reason?"

Paula knew she had a very full bladder, and she suspected he wanted her
to say so, but she was a bit nervous about her response.

"A little. I really could use a bathroom visit."

"Do you mean your bladder is full?"

"Quite full, in fact." Paula's response was calm, but she was a bit
anxious as to what response she would get.

"Would you like to empty it, Paula?" Eric asked, rather politely.

"May I?" Paula replied, somewhat wonderingly.

"Of course!" Eric answered, with emphasis. "Could you doubt we would
allow you the relief your body needs?" Here, let's take care of that!" He
motioned to two men standing nearby. Quickly they produced, from the box
at the back of room, a plastic pitcher. It was immediately brought to
Paula. She looked at it, understanding immediately what she was about to
be required to do. She noted the pitcher was fairly large, with straight
sides and a flat bottom, and it had graduation marks along one side.

"Here, Paula. You may take this, and relieve yourself into it. We want
you to be comfortable. Go ahead - squat or bend if you want - you needn't
be embarrassed - just adjust your underclothes as you need to and relieve
yourself into the pitcher!"

Paula understood what was required. It was embarrassing, but about what
she had anticipated. Carefully she squatted on the platform. She placed
the pitcher on the platform beside her, as she pulled her panties down to
her thighs, attempting to preserve as much of her modesty as possible. The
onlookers stood, in virtual silence, and watched her performance. She held
the pitcher in position and tried to relax her sphincters. It took a
minute or so, but her urine began to flow. The pitcher began to fill. She
couldn't see it, and didn't know how full it was getting, but she held it
in place. She estimated in her mind that it was probably a two litre
pitcher, certainly adequate. Flushed with embarrassment, she finished
discharging her bladder. She knew there was nothing to dry herself with,
so she set the pitcher down, pulled up her panties, and stood erect.

Eric picked up the pitcher and held it high. "Look - about three
quarters of a litre - but, oh, look at the color!" He made a face that
reflected disgust. "She must have brought this in with her - look how
yellow it is!" He invited everyone to look. "We need to get her to produce
clear stuff, from what we've been giving her!"

He looked to Paula. "Well, we're glad you got rid of this stuff you
brought it. Now we need to have you enjoy a bit of our hospitality! We
want you to have a glass of liquid refreshment brought to you by each
person here - just to replenish that which you got rid of!"

He motioned to some of those in the room, who began collecting glasses
of drinks. Soon a queue had formed in front of Paula, as several
approached her with glasses filled with water, juice, or soft drinks.

Paula viewed them with a bit of horror. Her bladder was empty, but she
knew it wouldn't be for long. She had been consuming liquid almost since
she had come into the building, and her stomach was far from empty. Still,
she accepted the drinks and tried to consume them as she was able.

Eric let her go through about five glasses, then stopped the process.
"I think", he addressed those in the room, "Our special guest is a bit
uncomfortable. She is getting a full stomach, and having to stand there
may be tiring for her." He turned to Paula, "We want you to be able to
stand more comfortably. If you'll just take off your shoes, one of the
guests will put them away for you. You will find it easier to stand in
your bare feet!"

Paula sensed that she was going to lose some of her attire, and the
shoes were probably only the first item. She removed them, one at a time,
and a man took them and placed them at the foot of the clothes tree in the
room. More drinks were brought to Paula. She was feeling bloated.
"Please", she asked, "I don't think I can drink any more now - my stomach's
absolutely full!":

"All right, Paula!" Eric continued. "We don't want to create any
distress for you. You must realize it's hard for us to know how full your
stomach is! Perhaps, well, if it weren't covered so well, then we could
tell your condition better. I know you didn't come in a bare midriff
outfit, but perhaps we could make some adaptations. You have a slip on?"

"A half slip", Paula answered.

"Good. That should show a bit of stomach for us. Why don't you just
remove that pretty black dress and we'll be able to see if your stomach
looks distended or feels too full! Would you please?"

The request was obviously a command.

Paula unbuttoned the dress, slowly. She carefully let it slip from her
shoulders, then dropped it off her arms. She straightened it out, then
handed it to a woman standing before her. Paula returned to her center
stage position, now with her white bra exposed above her bare midriff, her
half slip still covering the lower part of her body.

Eric motioned for one of the men to come forward and touch her stomach.
It was obviously distended, stretching the half slip out a bit. Paula felt
terribly vulnerable, exposed as she was, her anatomy being examined by
strangers. Yet she knew more was to come.

Comments were made about her stomach, it's fullness, and it's probable

Eric turned to the crowd. "Our special guest needs a bit of time for
her stomach to process the fluid it contains. We need to make her more
comfortable - her clothes are obviously pressing on her stomach. Shall we
make her more comfortable by having her remove them?"

The crowd cheered its approval. Eric turned to Paula. "Your slip is
too tight on your stomach, now, so why don't you just drop it off? You'll
feel less pressure!" Paula could sense that she was about to be relieved of
all of her clothing. Nonetheless, she pulled down the half slip and
stepped out of it. She handed it to waiting hands, and stood up, awaiting
the next command, which she felt certain would be to remove her brassiere.

Paula was feeling exposed and oddly aroused, standing before the crowd
of people in only her bra and panties. She knew she wouldn't be wearing
even those garments for long. Still, she felt some curious bit of
satisfaction in the interest being shown by so many younger persons in an
older lady gradually losing her clothes. She realized that she really knew
none of these people - if the group had included her friends it would have
been humiliating beyond measure, but in front of this group she felt
strangely stimulated by what she was being made to submit to.

Eric had her turn slowly around, so as to be viewed from all angles by
the watching group. "How does your stomach feel now?" he politely inquired
of her.

Truthfully, she still felt quite bloated from the volume of liquid
inside her. She knew her stomach would soon feel better, if she drank no
more, but that the fullness would pass downward to her bladder and demand
relief, which she suspected might be denied her. The uncertainty of what
lay ahead played on her mind. She wasn't exactly in fear. but she was
definitely feeling tension and apprehension, and it was definitely
stimulating and arousing.

Eric let her stand several minutes in different postures. Then, he
called on a male volunteer from the group. "Larry", Eric instructed, "take
the tape measure, and measure from the top of her shoulder to the tip of
her breast - the part sticking out the farthest." Larry ascended the
platform, and took the tape measure. Holding the end of tape to her
shoulder, he was told to mark the spot from which he was measuring. Then
he pulled out the tape, holding it to the tip of her bra. He called out
the measurement "thirteen and a half inches".

Larry stepped down. Eric resumed his commentary. "Paula is using her
bra to hold her breasts in position, and with the help of the bra the tip
is thirteen and a half inches below her shoulder. Now, with the bra off, I
wonder how the measurement might change! Shall we see if her muscles hold
as well as the bra?"

The crowd murmured its assent. "Paula, would you take off the bra, so
we can see how your bust line might change without the artificial support?"

Slowly, without protest, Paula reached behind her back and unhooked her
bra. She dropped it from her shoulders. Her breasts were revealed in all
their glory, the white skin contrasting a bit with the more tanned color of
her face and even her shoulders. Obviously she was not accustomed to going
topless outside. Without the bra, her breasts fell noticeably, and her
nipples came erect, both pointing a bit downward. She handed the bra to a
bystander, who hung it on the clothes tree.

"Larry, I think you'd better check the measurement again!" Eric
instructed. The tape measure was again used. Larry held the lower end to
her erect nipple, taking the opportunity to grasp the erect nipple firmly.
He read out the measure, "This time it's almost sixteen inches!"

"Two and a half inches more - that's the difference between the strength
of her bra and her own muscles! Looks like this lady has some flexibility
in her anatomy!" The man who had done the measuring released her nipple.

"I think", Eric mused aloud, that it would be interesting to test the
flexibility of this lady's body. May I have three volunteers to assist?

Quickly, three men were chosen. Eric spoke to them in a low voice, and
they went to work. He instructed Paula to raise her arms, which she did.
Behind her, two of the men held her arms and tied them together, over her
head, with a long, soft, cloth. The rope which had hung behind the
platform was slipped through the cloth, between her hands, and then pulled
up. She felt her bound hands lifted over her head until she was standing
with her raised arms about a foot over her head. She didn't find this
terribly uncomfortable, but she was beginning to feel quite helpless. She
could move her feet only slightly apart, as she was forced to stand with
her body upright.

"We don't want our guest to be unduly restricted or uncomfortable", Eric
went on. "Perhaps one of you volunteers could remove the underpants she is
wearing, so she will not feel restricted by them". At this, one man slipped down her panties and removed them, lifting one leg at a tip to slip
them over her feet.

Paul was standing upright, held by the rope attached to her bound hands,
and now she was stark naked. Her pubic bush was prominently displayed, the
hair protruding from her body. She had never felt so exposed, so
vulnerable. She awaited what would happen next.

Eric again spoke to the volunteers. "Her bust line does seem a bit
flexible - let's see how far the flexibility goes. Each of you lift one
breast and spread them a bit". The two complied, each grasping a breast and pulling it up and away from its sister. "I think", Eric instructed,
"you might get a bit more extension if you provided a bit of stimulation.

The men played with her nipples, producing evident erections. They
moved her breasts around, showing their flexibility and displaying the
erect nipples to all. Then Eric called for a halt, temporarily, saying
they should allow their guest to rest a bit and 'enjoy' her situation.

Paula felt as she had never felt before. She was exposed, teased, made
moderately uncomfortable, and restrained in a highly vulnerable situation.
Yet no one had moved to really hurt her, and, in fact, they had treated her
with a fair amount of respect and courtesy. She felt sensuous, aroused as
she had seldom been. She felt vulnerable, extremely vulnerable, yet,
somehow, not really threatened. She felt certain this would end without
any real harm to her, as they had promised; yet, at the moment they had her
in their collective power. Why did she find this arousing? She wondered
herself. As she stood there, her hands held above her head, she felt
considerable discomfort, not the least of which was the growing pressure in
her bladder, resulting from her excessive liquid consumption. She wondered
if the onlookers were aware of this particular part of her distress.

People, both men and women, looked at her, often quite closely. Often
they smiled, but few spoke to her. They seemed friendly enough, in some
perverse way, yet they were obviously enjoying her condition. She squirmed
a bit, trying to find a comfortable stance. Her abdomen quivered from time
to time, as she clenched her sphincter muscles ever tighter to restrain the
growing amount of liquid in her bladder. She tried holding her legs
together, squeezing them a bit, but it seemed to help little.

She sensed people staring at her genitals and her pubic hair. Somehow
the exposure of her pubic bush made her feel especially naked. She knew
her bush stood out conspicuously, and it could be seen from even the far
side of the room. It was low on her body, and she could almost feel the
stares as people looked closely at it.

Eric continued to tease her in subtle ways. He suggested she might now
have an empty stomach, and might have need for more liquid to assuage her
thirst. He had several people feel her stomach. Then he called on several
persons to bring her drinks, which she was told to take through straws.
Paula tried to accommodate them, but after a bit, she shook her head to
decline further intake.

Eric was displeased. "Don't you like our hospitality any more, Paula?"
he asked, a bit sarcastically. He mocked her a bit. "Well, Paula," he
admonished her, with a twinkle in his eye, "I was beginning to think you
might soon have a full bladder and might need to relieve it; but if you
don't drink anything, that's not likely! So - you won't be needing any
relief, I suppose!"

Paula quickly complained "My bladder is already full, and I really can't
hold it much longer - please allow me some relief!"

"Oh, well, we'll think about it, Paula, but first we'll give you a few
minutes to relax."

"Relax?", Paula exclaimed, "like this? How can I relax!"

Eric smiled to the group. He left her a few minutes, still standing
with her legs squeezed together, her bound hands over her head. A man came
up and tweaked her nipples, then moved away. Another gently grasped her
pubic hair, pulling it outward, then slowly let it go. Several people

Now she was hurting. Her arms were getting tired, her stomach still
felt full of water, and her bladder was now so full it was sending her
signals that had progressed from discomfort to pain.

After a bit, Eric returned and told her they were going to allow her a
bit of rest. They lowered the rope, and untied her hands. The release was
short lived, because soon they retied them behind her, but at least she
could now drop her arms down and even walk.

He invited several people to come forward and gently feel her abdomen.
They palpated it in turn, obviously feeling her very full bladder, now hard
and swollen within her, causing a noticeable bulge.

He entered into a discussion with them as to whether she needed relief,
or could continue to hold. "Please let me!" she begged to Eric.

“What do you think?” he asked of several bystanders. “Does she need to
empty herself a bit?” The others entered into a discussion, as they felt
her bladder and pushed on it.

A woman offered a suggestion. “Maybe she needs to let out just a
little. We could see whether what she is holding is of the proper quality,

Eric called for the pitcher. Paula was instructed to remount the
platform, her hands still tied behind her. “All right, Paula, we have
decided to allow you to release a half pint. Will that help you?”

Paula well knew her bladder must be holding far more than that. “How
can I tell? I’m not sure I can stop if I start. Please - I am hurting!”

“We’ll help you, Paula”, Eric instructed two of the men. “Each of you
take one of her nipples and stretch it out a bit. We’ll let her release
some, and when she gets to the pint level, pull her nipples hard until she

“What if I can’t stop?” Paula asked.

“Then you are going to have some very stretched nipples”, he advised
her. Her mind flashed to the treatment she knew Stan liked to give her
breasts. Mentally she winced a little, trying to withdraw and shield her
body from the treatment.

She started to release. Her stream became forceful, and it was only a
few seconds before the pitcher was filled to the pint level. “Stop!” Eric
instructed her, quite loudly.

She felt her nipples pulled forcibly, as she tried to close her
sphincter. Straining, she managed to shut off the flow. The men relaxed
their grips.

Eric held the pitcher up for all to see. Her urine was now very light,
almost clear, the result of the flushing of her body by the extreme amount
of liquid she had processed.

They allowed her to walk and mingle with the guests, though her hands
were still tied behind her. Several complimented her on the quality of
urine she had produced, while others inquired as to the state of her
bladder. Numerous hands pressed on her bladder area from time to time,
while others groped her bare breasts.

After a while, she was again allowed to urinate into the pitcher. This
time she was permitted to empty her bladder, and Eric noted with some
satisfaction the quantity they had managed to get her to hold.

They allowed her to sit for a time on a chair, her hands still
restrained. Other guests continued to amuse themselves with her breasts,
commenting on their flexibility as they pulled them, squeezed them, or
stretched her nipples. Several guests brought her large glasses of liquid
to drink, offering her straws with which to draw in the fluid, and
insisting that she empty the glass.

In time her bladder was full again, a situation verified by several
palpations. Eric announced, “I think it is time for our fountain scene.
Shall we try?”

Paula was taken from the chair and made to lie on her back on the floor
of the room. Her legs were spread and held far apart, one male guest
holding each leg. Eric called upon her to produce a stream as high as she

Paula, a bit shocked at this order, tried to release her distended
bladder. She pushed as hard as she could. Her stream started slowly, then
arced upwards a bit, falling to the floor a short distance away from her
body. A group of guests stood around, cheering her on and urging her to
achieve new heights. Finally, her bladder emptied, she was raised to her
feet, as several volunteer guests mopped the liquid from the floor area.

Now it was getting quite late. Eric untied Paula’s hands and allowed
her to relax a bit, though she was still subjected to continual groping and
pressing. Earlier she might have resisted the hands touching her body, but
at this point she accepted it.

Finally, Eric announced it was approaching time to bid farewell to the
Special Guest. The other guests began to line up, and Paula was brought to
the head of the line. Each guest, in turn, gave Paula a word of thanks for
her participation, and a brief touch. Sometimes the touch was a handshake,
but often it was a tug on a nipple, a squeeze of a breast, or a hand
grasping at her genitals. It took some time for all the guests to pass
her, and at the end of the line were Eric and Mitch.

Eric gently gripped a breast, and told her, “Paula - you have been a
good sport. I realize it was rough on you, but you took it well. We might
have wondered whether a woman your age could have handled it, but now we
know. We loved having you!”

“That goes also for me”, Mitch told her, his hand briefly laid on her
other breast. “Did you find it stimulating?”

“I’ll never forget it!” Paula answered, not quite knowing what else to
say. Then, thoughtfully, she added. “I do have a final request - all that
liquid you’ve had me drink - I really do need to urinate again, before I
leave. May I?”

“Of course. Shall we escort you to the bathroom?” Mitch asked her.

“After all this, I hardly know how to use one. Is the pitcher no longer

Eric quickly departed, returning with the pitcher. She spread her legs,
standing erect. He held the pitcher under her. She released another
strong stream. As it was pouring, she looked at Eric. “That’s what I
needed - you know, I just might get used to this way of doing it!” Her
stream ended, and she asked “I do need to wipe up - I haven’t been able to,
lately, and before I leave, it would be nice!”

Mitch produced a paper towel. He offered it to her. “Would you be a
gentlemen and do it for me?” she asked him.

He dried her with the towel, rubbing her lips quite firmly.

“Thanks”, she said.

Mitch presented her with her clothing, and she dressed in front of them.
Eric announced that the taxi had arrived, and would take her back to her
hotel. She was escorted to the door, then outside and into the taxi.

The taxi carried her back to her hotel, dropping her at the door. She
thanked the driver as she rushed inside. At the desk she requested her
key, then returned to her room. She checked the clock. It was five in the
morning. Exhausted, she pulled off her clothes, throwing them on a chair.
She did not bathe, or even wash her face. She flopped on the bed naked,
drawing the covers around her. She turned off the light. In a moment she
was asleep. There was a trace of a smile on her face.

Chapter 7

The Return

When Paula awoke, the sunlight was streaming through the hotel room
window. She glanced at the clock. It was two in the afternoon. She had
slept away the morning. For some reason should could not entirely
understand, she felt good - yet she was aware of the strain the last night
had put upon her. For a few minutes she reflected on what she had been
through. Would Stan ever learn of it? She had half a notion to tell him,
wondering how he might react.

She slipped out bed, responding to the needs of her full bladder. She
relieved herself, then looked her body over in the mirror. The wear was
showing, and, she feared, a bit of her age. There were lines in her face,
and traces of old makeup. Her left wrist was red, probably from the
effects of being tied up. She was aware that she had acquired a bit of
body odor.

She showered, washed her face thoroughly, and prepared herself for the
day. She dressed in slacks and a casual shirt, then went downstairs to the
restaurant to satisfy her now growing hunger.

She went for a walk around the area, now quiet on a Saturday afternoon.
As she passed people on the street, she discreetly tried to search their
faces, wondering if any had been where she had been the previous night.
What would she say if someone recognized her? In time she returned to the
hotel and to her room. She stood before the open window, looking out at
the rooftops nearby.

Suddenly, on a whim, she stepped back from the window. She removed her
shirt, her slacks, then her underwear. She slipped off her shoes. Then,
without a stitch of clothing, she gingerly moved back to the open window.
The afternoon sun poured in. Somehow, she felt compelled to stand in front
of that open and sunlit window. She wondered if anyone was looking, if
anyone would see her. For several minutes she stood there, as if in some
kind of trance. Then she moved back, fell upon the bed. She gave herself
up to daydreams, then to sleep. Tomorrow, she knew, would be a homecoming.
Indeed, it would a homecoming such as she had not had before.

Sunday morning came, and she was up early, dressed and ready for her
morning flight home. In her mind she thought ahead to her arrival. She
decided that it would be, indeed, different. The details took place in her
mind as she traveled to the airport and even as she began the homeward

On the flight, she enjoyed a small snack served with drinks. She gulped
them down, then made use of the lavatory. She decided she would not
relieve herself again until she was home.

Her flight arrived. She found a telephone and called Stan. He
answered, expecting her call.

“I’m in”, she announced. “Will you pick me up? Oh, and I’d like to do
an errand on the way in. You’re not pressed for time, are you?”

“No, nothing special. What did you want to do?”

“I’ll tell you when you get here, Stan. It might be just a little
surprise. You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

Stan had no idea what his wife had in mind. He knew it would time some
time for him to get to the airport, but she indicated she would wait and
tell him her intentions when he arrived.

It was mid afternoon as he drove up to the airport. Paula was waiting
for him at the curbside, suitcase and a plastic bag beside her. He greeted
her warmly, offered a perfunctory kiss, and placed her suitcase in the car.
As he returned from doing so, he found Paula taking the drivers’ seat.

“I’ll drive”, Paula said, a note of mischief in her voice. “I know
where I want to go. You said there was no hurry, didn’t you?”

“Not for me. I thought you might want to get home and rest. You’ve had
a long trip!”

“I’ll rest later. Oh, yes, in that plastic bag I was carrying, there’s
bottle of soda. Would you get it please?”

He fished around in the bag, and drew a large, two liter bottle of soda.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“Picked it up at the airport shop. It’s a warm day. You might like a

“Me? What’s this about, Paula? Where are we going?”

“I told you I had a surprise for you. That bottle is the first. I’d
like you to drink it, while we get to where we’re going. I don’t want you

Stan knew his wife was up to something. However, it was warm, and he
was glad to have her home. He would go along with her little game. He
opened the bottle and began to drink from it.

She drove, not towards town, but out into the country. Perhaps twenty
minutes after they started, he was becoming even more curious.

“Just where are we going?” he asked, a bit insistently.

“I’ll tell you when you finish that soda!” she answered, smiling
mischievously. He looked at the rather large container, shook his head a
bit, and offered, “It’s a big dose. You trying to get me full of soda so I
can’t eat tonight?”

“No. But we haven’t too far to go. I want to get out by the lake.
There should be a lot of people out there picnicking or hiking, on a Sunday

“Paula, we’re not equipped for a picnic, and I never thought you were a
hiker. What’s in your mind?”

After a time, she pulled off onto a road that led into a forest around
the lake. She knew there was an area with picnic sites and trails. They
passed people making use of the sites. She didn’t stop. She kept going.

After a time, Stan gave her the response she had been waiting for.

“You know, after all that soda you wanted me to drink, I’m going to need
a pee stop. Can you find a place wherever we’re going?”

“Oh, absolutely!” she answered, “It won’t be long!”

She pulled onto a side road in an area that seemed to have no visitors.
She parked the car. Turning to her husband, she asked. “Are you up to a
little hike?”

“A hike? What are you doing, Paula? OK, if it’s what you want, but I
need a bathroom stop!”

“Let’s take a walk. I have something to show you!” she told him.

Stan had never known Paula to act like this. He could not imagine what
had inspired her. Yet he accompanied her as they walked into a wooded
area. They went a distance into the forest, perhaps half a mile. He
demanded to know what she wanted to show him.

“Do you really want to know?” Paula asked.

“Of course. How far do I have to go with you? What kind of a game are
you playing?”

She stopped. She turned and faced her husband. “I think I can get
ready, now!” She started to undo her blouse.

“What are you doing?” he asked, a bit agitated.

“Getting ready”, she answered sweetly. She pulled off her blouse,
displaying her bare breasts. She was wearing no bra.

“You were braless?” he said in amazement.

“You couldn’t tell? I just thought you might have noticed!” she
answered. “I took it off at the airport, while I was waiting for you!
Told you I wanted to show you something; of course, you have seen it
before, I know, but - are you tired of the view?” She shook herself
slightly, her bare breasts flopping around some in their freedom. “But,
now, about that business of you needing to pee--”

He looked at the trees surrounding them. “I guess I could here”, he
noted. He started to turn away from her, his hands going to the zipper of
his pants.

“Oh, no, Stan! Not yet. I need you to do something first!”

“You need - what?” he turned back to face her.

“Strip me!” she instructed.

He looked at her in amazement. “What do you want me to do?”

“Strip me!” she repeated. “Take my clothes off, shoes, pants,
everything. Will you do it for me?”

“Paula, right now I need a pee!” he answered.

“And I need a pee, too. I can’t do it with clothes on. You used to
undress me, Stan- would you, please, right now?” She was pleading,

He looked at her with a growing smile. “You haven’t done anything like
this in thirty years! What’s into you?” He stared at her bare breasts,
quivering before him.

In her mind she recalled Friday night. Just as well Stan wasn’t
acquainted with that episode. “Stan - won’t you do as I asked?” she was
almost pleading, mischief and a touch of mystery in her voice.

He relented, starting to unbuckle her pants. She stood, placing her
hands behind her head, offering no help. He fumbled with her clothes,
finally getting her pants unfastened. Then, realizing her shoes had to
come off, first, he bent down and slipped them from her feet. Then, he
worked her pants down. She stepped out of them. Standing in only white
panties, he gazed at her. He had seen the sight often before, but never in
this kind of setting. “Those, too?” he asked, indicating the panties.

“Can’t pee with them on!” she answered. He took the garment down,
slipping it over her feet. He stood and looked at her, her prominent pubic
bush openly displayed, and, he thought, pushed forward just a little for
his benefit.

“Now, if you want to pee, you need to be dressed like I am!” She told

He was finding this quite arousing. He had not before known his wife to
stand naked out in the woods. He looked at her, familiar as he was with
her body, in this situation it was taking on a new erotic dimension. He
loved looking at her nude, but seeing her that way outdoors was an
especially arousing experience. Obviously, he noted, she was loving it.

He complied with her request. He took off his shoes, then his short and
pants. He thought he looked somewhat ridiculous in his underwear, but
noted she was looking at him, missing nothing, The nipples of her breasts stood out, betraying her arousal.

He finished stripping, then looked about, attempting to assure himself
no one was near.

“Here, sit by me for a minute!” she asked, seating herself on a grassy
spot near a tree. He joined her, his erection now quite firm. She gripped
it gently with her fingers.

Suddenly, she shoved him to one side, pushing him down onto the ground.
On his back, he struggled a bit to get up, feebly protesting. “Paula,
please - I have to pee!”

“And so do I” she answered. She was quickly on top of him, her legs
astride his body.

He saw her intent. “Paula- no! I can’t - my bladder’s too full! I
have to pee first!”

His protests failed completely. She was in firm control, pinning his
arms down as she took his erection into her body. She had always been a
strong woman, and was still showing no signs of frailty.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time”, she told her husband, “I want
to have you when we both need to pee - and I hope you need to as badly as I

She began to move atop him, gently. Still, her body bounced against his
overfull bladder, and he winced at the sensation. She held him in what
seemed an iron grip, her vaginal muscles tightly tensed.

He reached up and grasped her nipples, tugging. In her mind, she
flashed a memory of standing before the guests Friday night, her breasts groped and stretched. “Pull them - harder!” she told him, recalling the
torment to which she had been submitted, and reflecting that this was
something he had loved to do to her.

Her motion was accelerating, her grip as tight as ever.

Suddenly he could no longer control his response. He jerked, gasping
for breath, moving his body as if to avoid her continued thrusts.

A moment later she, too, erupted in release. She fell on him, still
holding his organ inside her, his hands still on her breasts.

They lay on the rough grass of the forest for several minutes. Slowly,
she rolled off him and lay beside him. With her hand she gripped his now
flaccid penis.

“You can pee now“, she told him.

He tried. His bladder found release difficult, lying on his back, her
hands still holding him. But release came. She held him, aiming the
stream toward his feet. It shot into the air, making a log arc before
returning to earth. Refusing to release her grip, she raised herself to a
sitting posture to watch the stream. Finally the stream diminished, then

She smiled at him, now lying relaxed, exhausted.

She squatted beside him, facing him. She took his hand, and placed it
on her genital lips. “My turn- you help this time!”

“How?” he asked, seeming eager but failing to grasp the methodology.

“Spread the lips”, she told him, holding her squatting posture, and
placing her hands behind her head. Clumsily, he rolled over a bit, grasped
her lips and spread them slightly.

Smiling, she looked at him. “I always wanted you to watch me do this -
it never seemed to interest you. Now, I want to do it with you looking
right at me!”

Her stream poured out, drenching the ground and draining away in a small
rivulet. She watched as he gazed at her urination.

“Never though you’d want me to watch!” he answered her.

As he watched, his erection returned slightly. She took a hand from
behind her head and reached for his penis, squeezing it slightly, while he
continued to stare at the emptying of her bladder.

She held him for a time. They stayed together, exchanging only a few
words, as they recovered from their activity.

Gradually they regained a modicum of energy. They got up, picked up
their clothes, and he started to dress.

“No”, she told him, her hand returning for a quick squeeze of his penis.
“Shoes are OK, but other than that, I want you to take me home naked - or
at least as far as you need to go before you’re ready for a repeat

“Paula, whatever inspired you to do these things? I never saw you like
this- where did you get all this inspiration?”

She just smiled, walking down the small forest path toward their car.
As they came within sight of the car, he turned slightly to her.

“If you will tell me what got into you, I think I might be up to number
two!” he told her. She felt his stiffening erection.

“First things first!” she told him, looking about for a reasonably clear
space. She found one, and lowered herself to a sitting position on the
ground. Placing her clothes in a heap, she slipped her shoes off again.

She lay back on the coarse ground, feeling the rough grass on her back.
She spread her legs, and looked up at him. “This time you do the work!”
she instructed.

He did as commanded.

A few minutes later, she reflected on his earlier question.

“Really, Stan, I had an inspiring time the last few days. I did a lot
of thinking and planning for today. You’ll never know how long I spent
thinking about things like this - but you just might get some more
homecomings even if I don’t go away!

“Wherever you got the inspiration, you can sure do it again!” he
muttered, half to himself.

She started to rise to her feet. He saw her move, and slowly rose up to
stand beside her. She knelt for a moment, then offered her hand for him to
help her to her feet. Suddenly she fell back, her hand leaving his,
grasping her thigh. Her face made an expression of pain, as she stumbled,
falling to her knees.

“What happened?” he asked her, reaching again for her hand. “Are you

“No”, she responded, rubbing her leg. “Just a muscle cramp, I think.
Probably been using it too much. At my age, there are things I shouldn’t
be doing!”

Stan smiled at her. “Looks like you’ve still got a bit of mileage in
you. Sixty’s a great age!”

“Yes”, she answered. “I think it is!”



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