Jean


Chapter 6: Margaret and Lesbian Pissing

Lesbian discovery.

Jean discovers her lesbian self.


Being shaven down there made me feel cooler, fresher somehow in this very hot weather. Then, one morning after my bath, I had a sudden urge to examine myself, to see how I looked. I lay on the bed and held my hand mirror so I could see myself. I pulled my knees up to my chest.

Everything down there was exposed. Paula had trimmed my hair beautifully so that it ended in a curve, just where my sex began. I could see every fold. I put my fingers either side of my clitoris and pulled back the hood. There it was, that strange little button, my clitoris. Here I was, forty nine years old and I'd never seen my clitoris before!

I looked further down, looking at my anus. I hadn't realised how brown it would be - it must be clean, I had just got out of the bath. I put my left hand underneath me so I could touch myself there. In the mirror I watched my finger feeling the entrance to my bottom.

I had a desire to put a finger into it, goodness knows why. I tried to push it in but it wouldn't go - it wouldn't slide against my clean, fresh skin, and the muscles there seemed to tighten in a reflex action every time I pressed.

I got up, fetched a jar of cold cream and put a generous dab on my finger. I resumed my open position, mirror in place and watched again. I watched as the second finger of my left hand slid easily into my anus. What a strange feeling. What a strange sight.

I put it in up to the first knuckle and wiggled it around. It seemed to have plenty of room to move once it had passed through the anal muscle. I moved it in and out to see how that would feel. I contracted the muscle hard and felt my finger squeezed - was it like that for a man when vaginal muscles contracted during orgasm?

I pulled my finger out. As it slipped out I felt pleasure. So I pushed my finger in again and pulled it out again. Pushing it in was nice. Pulling it out was nicer.

I wondered how it would look to see my finger up my bottom and at the same time my vibrator in my sex.

I found the vibrator and got back into position on my back with my knees drawn up. But I discovered I needed three hands, so I discarded the hand mirror and lay on the floor, angling the dressing mirror so I could see myself. I slipped a finger into my anus. I opened my legs as wide as I could, trying to see as much of myself as possible. Then I pushed the vibrator into my sex, watching it in the mirror as it disappeared into me.

Thus far my mood had been more one of curiosity than excitement. How could I have reached this age without ever looking at myself so intimately, without enjoying my own body?

Now I wanted to massage my clitoris, to experience that as well, to watch myself do that too. I let go of the vibrator, but it began to slide out.

I found I could keep the vibrator held in me with the thumb of my left hand even though one of the fingers was up my bottom. My right hand was free to do its business.

As my passion mounted I wanted more hands! Hands to stroke my breasts, to squeeze my nipples: I wanted everything at once.

How would my sex look when I was in orgasm? With a superhuman effort I kept my head up and my eyes open as I climaxed, but I couldn't really see any muscular contractions as my climax came and went.

Though I had had an orgasm, it was not satisfying. I felt let down by it. It was nothing when set against sex with Johnnie, or the excitement of watching Becky and John. And certainly nothing compared to the desperate tension of my fitting with Paula and Sammy.

I had taken to going out without underwear. The feeling of fresh air around my shaven private parts was intoxicating. And I enjoyed the element of danger - that a sudden gust of wind might raise my skirt, or that I might inadvertently expose myself when getting out of my car.

I was definitely feeling the need for sex again, that is sex with another person. And more than that, having already discovered forms of sex I had never contemplated, I found myself wanting to discover more of what people got up to.

I pulled out my magazines. On top of the pile was the leather catalogue that Paula had left with me. I hadn't even opened it. As I leafed through it a note fell out. It was from Paula. It read 'have filled in the order form, add your shoe size and send off with a cheque. Love, Paula.'

The order form was neatly filled in: one studded collar, one half cup bra, one pair of five string briefs, thigh boots, one pair lined wrist cuffs - all black leather except the boots which were PVC. And one 'NPD', which searching the catalogue I found meant 'Naughty Plastic Dress'. It was transparent and full of circular holes.

I was confused. I had assumed Paula and Sammy would make or order everything, but they were obviously just agents. I panicked that I had left it too late and the stuff wouldn't arrive in time for the party, whenever that was.

I filled in my shoe size, wrote a cheque. I realised that Paula's name wasn't on the form and wondered about her commission. I rang Paula. A man answered and said Paula was away, was it urgent? I said it wasn't. I posted the letter.

I went back to my magazines. Had I read them just two months ago I would have dismissed them as made up, not believing anybody would actually do all the peculiar things described in the letters. Now I knew they would.

Forum had many letters on an activity which I had never even imagined before. The idea that wetting oneself, or even doing it on someone else, could be considered as sex seemed most odd. 'Fantasy of the month' entailed a ball girl at Wimbledon having an 'accident' while standing in front of a seated female player. The player noticed, and rather than scold her, the female player opened her legs a little so the ball girl could see her knickers, then the tennis player proceeded to wet herself. Most peculiar.

However, this was something I should perhaps investigate, not do it, you understand, just find out about it.

I found an ad in Forum that didn't seem too aggressive. 'Damp lady seeks soul mate.' I wrote: 'I am an inexperienced lady setting out, a little late in life, to find out about sex in all its variations. If I have understood your advertisement correctly you like 'watersports'? Please don't misunderstand, I can't imagine doing anything like that, but if like me you are a lady with time on her hands perhaps we could meet just to talk?'

A very efficient week later a charming lady rang me. She loved talking about sex, would I like to come to tea?

I went to see her. She was in her late twenties, tall and attractive with long blonde hair. She and her husband, who was at work, lived in a charming cottage in the countryside.

Over a large pot of tea I explained my circumstances, told her about Johnnie and my determination to make up for thirty years of lost time. She thought Johnnie sounded terrific, did I have his phone number?

She told me, in surprising detail, how she and her husband had several 'friends' with whom they occasionally had sex, all four together. I asked her exactly what her advert had meant.

"Have you ever wet yourself, Jean?" she said.

I honestly never had.

"Tell you what," she said. "It's a lovely day. Finish your tea and we'll go for a walk along the river. I'll tell you all about it."

As we set off on our walk Margaret told me how they had come to buy this super little place. They had driven past quite by chance and seen a 'For Sale' sign. She told me about the otters in the river bank. She told me about the mad farmer with a morbid fear of adders. She told me about everything except what I'd come to hear.


We must have walked for two miles along the riverside path when Margaret stopped and said, "I think I had too much tea. I need a wee, do you mind?"

"No," I said. I expected her to go behind a tree, but she crouched down right there beside me. I was a little surprised, but I turned to look at the river to give her some privacy.

"No, Jean," Margaret said deliberately. "Please, turn around and watch me."

Well, you know by now that I follow things through. I turned to watch Margaret.

"Stand in front of me," she said.

I stood in front of her. She had crouched down and pulled her skirt up around her waist. Her knees were apart. I could see the crotch of her white knickers quite clearly. She was not wearing tights or stockings.

"Are you going to pee like that?" I said. "With your knickers on?"

She nodded, a very naughty smile on her face.

"I am going to pee myself. Watch."

And she did. I watched as first her knickers wetted, then quickly her pee ran from the crotch making a puddle on the ground. Margaret's eyes were closed in rapture.

Before the flow had completely stopped Margaret stood up, still holding her skirt up. I watched as the last trickles ran down her legs.

Margaret let her skirt fall back, opened her eyes and gave a huge sigh.

"Wooh, I do enjoy that. Hmm, it feels so hot and clammy, all sort of sticking to you. Yum." Then she said, "Do you want to try it, Jean?"

I wasn't at all sure that I did. But it seemed churlish to refuse, and besides, it would be another experience to tell Johnnie about, if a dubious one.

"Crouch down here in front of me," Jean said.

"Can I take my knickers off?" I said.

Margaret looked hurt. "That's the whole point of it," she said.

I crouched down, knickers still on, and hitched up my skirt as Margaret had done.

Margaret was staring at my crotch. I tried to pee. I had had several cups of tea - now I knew why she had kept on refilling my cup - but I couldn't do it. Every reflex was preventing it. Someone staring at me, a public place, but most of all, the feeling of knickers against my flesh automatically prevented the taps from turning on.

"Concentrate, and relax," Margaret said helpfully.

I did. At last I started to pee. A most peculiar feeling, the heat of your pee spreading backwards to your bottom, and all around your sex. Some of the flow fell to the ground, some ran down my thighs soaking my stockings.

In mid flow Margaret crouched down in front of me and put her hand between my legs. She put her hand on my crotch, in the stream of pee, moving her fingers like a piano player against my gushing sex.

"That is such a lovely feeling," she said. "All hot and wet like that." And she said it with such depth I knew she meant it.

When I had almost finished she took her hand away and told me to stand up so that I could feel it running down my legs. I did so. A sensation certainly. A pleasant one? In a strange way, yes.

"Now," Margaret said. "As we walk along, see how lovely and warm and clinging and exciting it feels as the material sticks to you."

Margaret gave a running commentary on how turned on it made her to feel herself all wet like that, and how much my being there added to the excitement.

Then as she walked along she said, "Oh, I've just got to do this, do you mind?"

Before I knew what it was, she had put her hand up the front of my skirt and deftly down inside my knickers, her hand diving into the steamy wetness there.

She pushed two fingers aggressively into my sex and she played with me for all she was worth. And expertly too. I didn't object, it was a rather gorgeous experience to be walking along a riverbank on a sunny afternoon with steaming, piss soaked knickers, wet legs and someone masturbating you.

Margaret told me it felt heavenly and that I was so womanly. She went on playing with me and perhaps the action of walking helped to stimulate me too, though it was getting harder and harder to walk as my excitement mounted and then began to bubble over.

Seeing I was nearing climax Margaret put her other hand up the back of my skirt, outside my knickers, and thrust hard with two fingers trying to push my knickers as far as she could up my bottom. Not very far but it was an unexpectedly exciting thing for her to do, and I climaxed, leaning on her shoulder for support as I came.

She took her hands away and said, "Nice?"

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I drew a deep breath. "Hmm, very nice indeed. Would you like me to, er...?" I felt I had to offer to do the same to her, though I wasn't sure how well my inexperienced fingers would perform.

"No, thank you," Margaret said. "But will you watch me when we get home?"

"Yes, of course," I said. "I'd like to."

When we got back the drying effect of the fresh air meant I was no more than damp between my legs. We went back into the sitting room. Margaret sat opposite me and lifted her skirt.

"You see? They're only slightly damp now." She was feeling the crotch of her knickers. "But I think they're going to get damper again now." She pressed harder, then put her hand down inside her knickers, and I could see her fingers undulating beneath the material. She slid two finger inside herself. She closed her eyes and played with herself like that for a while.

"I do love being watched," she said.

I wanted to see properly what she was doing, how she was doing it. I was getting quite excited watching her.

Perhaps reading my thoughts Margaret pulled her knickers off and hooked one leg over the arm of the chair so that she was totally open to me. She made herself comfortable. She was going to masturbate to orgasm, she said.

She showed herself off very well. Making sure I could see her sex and how she was using her fingers.

"I just adore doing this after a good wetting, I just adore it."

She told me when she was coming, though it was clear from her panting anyway. As she came she vibrated her fingers ultra fast across her clitoris which seemed to bring her to a wonderful climax. She certainly made enough noise. Lucky she lived in the middle of nowhere. She caressed herself until the glow had subsided. Then she pulled her dress down and said, "Well, what did you think of it?" She was referring to the peeing.

"It's different," I began. "I've had a very nice afternoon, very nice."

"Are you a convert?" she asked.

I said I didn't really know. Margaret said it was something that grew on you and she was sure I'd want to try it again. I wasn't so sure.

We parted on very friendly terms and she gave me her phone number and an open invitation.

A few days later the leather gear arrived by special delivery. It was beautifully packed in a large box with smaller boxes inside. The choker had metal studs in it. I tried the bra for size: a good fit and it certainly gave a new look to my breasts. I didn't try the knickers on, there was hardly anything of them anyway. The 'dress' would be hardly worth wearing - low cut, very short and made from clear plastic with hundreds of small holes in it. Really no point in wearing it at all.

The boots were rather tight, but made me feel sexy as I looked at myself in the mirror. Naked except for them, they emphasised my thighs and my sex. Perhaps I'd just wear the boots to the party.

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