textfiles/sex/EROTICA/J/julie06.txt

A TRIP TO LONDON

After the weird experience of wetting myself in broad daylight in the centre 
of my home town and being seen by literally hundreds of people. (see Julie 5 
our public hold it contest) I was on the one hand very fearful and shaken and 
on the other so turned on that I had to have another fix; and soon. One day 
about a month later the opportunity presented itself and this is how it 
happened.

Julie had to make a presentation to a posh client in London and I took a day 
off and arranged to meet her afterwards so that we could see some sights. We 
were to travel up on different trains as she had to be at the offices in 
Mayfair by 9.30. She was having lunch with the client and we were to meet at 
3.00pm; outside the serpentine gallery in Hyde Park.

As I lay in bed at 6.30 in the morning watching Julie dress a dastardly plan 
began to form in my devious fevered brain. As usual she made up first, 
sitting nude in front of the mirror for what seemed hours as she transformed 
herself from super casual, slightly punk academic researcher into a high 
powered executive type woman. Her short dark hair had been done especially 
the previous day and she made up in a much more discreet style than usual 
except that she worked a little tan make up around her nipples.

Dressing she donned her most alluring lingerie; a cream silk lace trimmed bra 
with sheer front panels, French knickers, also with lace trim and a minimal 
crotch, a short half slip and suspenders, all to match, sheer fine stockings 
were attached. A soft cream blouse with a discreet bow followed. The blouse 
was almost sheer and the lace of her bra was just visible through it. The 
purpose of the nipple make up now became clear; the slightly darkened outline 
of her aureole and nipples was just visible through the two layers of silk. 
Her suit was new a strong plain dusky peach with the skirt, at mid thigh, 
short but not outrageous;. We had bought the suit together the previous week 
and I had remarked at the time that is was machine washable. Julie had 
shrugged; "of course" and winked. Two inch pumps with sensibly solid heels 
and small gold earrings of an original hand made design completed her outfit. 
The whole effect was the perfect combination of power, professionalism and 
creative originality.

I loved her when she looked like that; a love which turned to lust as I 
imagined a great piss stain emerging through the front of her skirt and her 
blouse going transparent as I pissed down her cleavage. My erection tent 
poled the duvet as I savoured these thoughts. 

Her cab tooted outside and, preparing to leave, Julie came and sat on the 
edge of the bed and fondled my shaft through the covers. "I know what you're 
thinking you naughty boy," she winked, "not a chance sunshine!" she kissed me 
gently so as not to spoil her make up, "till 3 O'clock then," and slipped out 
of the room leaving me to my evil plans.

This planning, the results of which will be revealed soon, turned into a wank 
and a big sticky damp patch of spunk on the duvet cover. I then turned over 
and drifted off to sleep with the damp cotton cool on my hip and more spunk 
dripping onto my thigh.

The alarm woke me around 9.30 and I got up and showered; peeing in the shower 
as usual. I shaved carefully and put on some good supportive stretch trunks; 
with fly buttons as I wanted to be able to get it out later. I dressed in 
smart casual style; pale khaki trousers, smart green button down shirt and 
tie, and a fairly formal brown leather jacket. I had corn flakes, toast, 
orange juice and a large pot of coffee for breakfast. Walking to the station 
I caught the 11 O'clock train to London and arrived at Victoria at about 
12.30. I had two and a half hours before I met Julie and, as I was already 
feeling the effects of the coffee on my bladder, I decided to visit the 
gallery first and have lunch and a pint afterwards; just before meeting her. 

I don't usually go too much for trendy destructive art but had to admit that 
this exhibition was rather special. They were about to re-build the 
Serpentine Gallery and for their last show they had allowed an artist to do 
what he liked to it. The result was holes cut through walls and floors, even 
through bookcases complete with books, which showed the buildings guts in a 
powerful way. 

I was totally absorbed, and only occasionally thought about my filling 
bladder, until just after two when I got to the stage when I couldn't stand 
still and the adrenaline started to flow. As you will all know as the 
pressure builds the whole body sometimes goes into hyperdrive; well this is 
what happened so I forced myself to go inside a pub and order lunch, a 
sandwich and a pint. This of course added to my bladder pressure considerably 
and by the time I got back to the Serpentine to meet Julie I was dancing from 
foot to foot and squeezing my dick every few minutes. She was late, of 
course, and my pressure became real pain as I waited for her to appear. 
Eventually she came trotting along in some agitation with her heels clacking 
and tits jiggling. With great effort I composed my self as she drew close and 
managed to present a calm facade.

Julie was not so calm and continued to jig around as we greeted one another.

"You playing hold it," I whispered into her ear as we kissed hello. 

She nodded and grinned sheepishly.

"How long?"

"Since this morning."

"Since 6?"

"Yes; it gave me a great buzz during that rather scary meeting and really got 
me going. The presentation went just great."

"Good; I knew it would." I kissed her again.

"What shall we do now?" I asked; thinking of releasing my flood all over her 
there and then in the street outside the gallery.

"I am going to piss in true Sophie Rickett style over a monument, that's what 
I am going to do. I'll have to be a bit careful 'though as I've got us 
theatre tickets for tonight and no change of clothes. 

I decided to put my own plans on hold for a while; fortunately the idea was 
arousing enough to help me get control of my bladder pressure. So she handed 
me her small camera from her presentation size hold-all briefcase and I 
followed her over to the statue of some oppressive looking Victorian 
gentleman. 

Julie stood before him, lifted her skirt and slip, puled her loose French 
knickers aside and, directing the flow with her two forefingers, leaned back 
and forcefully sprayed his plinth. I danced around taking pictures as the 
piss gushed and splattered; it seemed to go on for ever. Several passers by 
stared in amazement and a few made disapproving noises. However a bunch of 
lads were highly amused and burst into applause when she finally finished. As 
the stream lessened it sagged down to the ground and she quickly let 
everything go and straightened up. 

The last trickle must have wet her kickers as it splashed onto the ground 
between her feet. A small run appeared down her stocking but stopped before 
it reached her knee. Her skirt however was unmarked and the rest would dry 
and disappear in a very short time. At least it would without my 
intervention.

"That's better. I like hold it but it's good to feel empty too, especially 
with just the right amount of damp."

"You know who that is?" she pointed to the bronze Victorian gentleman 
standing tall and proud despite the wet patch on his lichen covered granite 
plinth and the large puddle at the base turning into a river across the 
pavement.

"No idea."

"That's Lord *******; he was responsible for my Great Great Grandfather 
getting deported to Botany Bay for the sake of a lousy poached rabbit. As a 
result Granny was brought up in dire poverty without a father. It really 
fucked her up and this she spread on to her own daughter, my mother who 
blamed all her problems on this 'fine gentleman'." Julie glared up at his 
stern side-whiskered face. 

"Did it really cause your mother's problems?"

"Dunno; but I enjoyed pissing on the old bastard anyway. Now Lets get out of 
here before somebody causes trouble." We linked arms and proceeded to leave 
the park and head into the streets of Kensington. I of course was feeling far 
from empty; the distraction was no longer helping and meltdown was imminent. 
I decided to hold on for as long as I could and let chance dictate the spot. 

We wandered along looking in shop windows, mostly antiques and antiquarian 
books. I couldn't help bouncing around a bit and Julie looked at me 
knowingly. I then started squeezing myself. The pressure eased and we 
continued. Another spasm came and this time I couldn't quite squeeze hard 
enough and felt a spurt in my trunks. I squeezed again and stopped it. my 
trousers felt damp to the touch and I looked down. Sure enough a small wet 
patch showed. Julie laughed and touched it lovingly. 

"Better unzip and let it out boyo use that lamp post and give them a show. 
Remember our tickets for the Barbican." The street was quite crowded but 
fortunately there were no police in sight.

"Bugger the Barbican," I replied, "Give us a kiss." I pulled her towards me 
and, as I pressed my crotch into her skirt, let go my flood. My trunks, thick 
though they were offered little resistance merely serving to spread it around 
a bit as it was forced through my fly to run evenly down my legs and Julie's 
smart suit skirt.

She thrust me off. "Hey you stupid bugger I said I didn't want to get wet as 
we have theatre tickets." 

I hardly registered her; I was lost in my own world of gushing piss as I 
flooded my pants faster and more heavily than ever before. It poured out of 
me bursting through my underwear and pouring down the insides of both legs 
quickly soaking my socks and filling my shoes. The surplus flowed across the 
pavement in a virtual river and drained into the gutter. Oh the blessed heat 
of it in the cool air. Oh the blessed relief as the pressure eased. 

Only when it had reduced to a trickle did I become aware of my surroundings. 
The circle of people staring. Some horrified, some uncomprehending and 
sympathetic, most amused with half concealed grins or laughing aloud and 
mocking. Foremost was the group of lads who had so enjoyed Julie's exhibition 
in the park that they had followed us unnoticed into the street. 

Overshadowing all of this was Julie. The violence of her reaction surprised 
me as she yelled at me. "Now what are we going to do? Those tickets cost a 
lot of money and they won't let us in like this. Just look at me." She stood 
legs apart and brushed her hands ineffectually over the wet patch on the 
front of her skirt. Her face was really flushed with anger. "I'll get you for 
this you bastard; just see if I don't," she screamed.

"Yes that's right you're out of order mate," an older guy shouted. 

Julie turned on him, "and you can mind your own fucking business and all. She 
yelled. "Bugger off all of you, go on get out of it." She shouted at the 
crowd in general.

I decided I had better make peace and knew just the way to achieve it. "I'll 
buy you a whole new outfit for the theatre; I had planned to all along," I 
told her.

Her anger subsided as quickly as it had arisen. "OK but it's going to cost 
you. And I'm still going to get you, and get you proper, when you least 
expect it!" She stood back and admired my pants. The piss stain had formed 
itself into a perfect A pattern the inside halves of both legs were dark and 
saturated. The outsides still pale and dry. She came forward and whispered 
into my ear. "God that makes me horny, and I need to piss again." 

Julie reached into her bag and found a cloth. She squatted in front of me and 
started wiping at the piss stain as if to try and dry it. Then with a hiss 
she pissed into the back of her skirt. It dripped through the fabric and then 
funnelled forward by her skirt splashed onto the ground between here feet 
adding its self to my puddle. Still pissing she stood up and the rest poured 
down her stockings, filling her shoes so that they squelched as she walked

The 'lads' went wild with applause and the others, especially those who had 
been sympathetic to me because of my 'accident', looked really disgusted and 
started to walk away.

We embraced and I released some more just for the hell of it and to make a 
more obvious stain on the front of her skirt. "Come on lets go back to the 
park and find a private place where we can sort ourselves out." I winked at 
her and lead the way through the busy streets; shoes squelching with every 
step. 

Every few hundred yards I stopped and pissed a little more; pressing my legs 
together and watching my crotch glisten and rivulets pour down towards my 
knees. Julie stopped and pissed just once more; she held her hand tight into 
her groin and allowed the piss to burst through her fingers and run down the 
front of her skirt to drip off the hem. 

Back in the park we found a really secluded spot where we could lie on the 
grass and kiss and cuddle. We worked each other to orgasm without being 
spotted or arrested for indecent exposure and then lay back in each others 
arms to plan our recovery strategy. How were we going to go shopping in piss 
wet clothes and what were we going to do with them afterwards.

"I know, Camden Market. They are very informal and laid back there. We can 
find a plausible reason for wet clothes, fall in the canal or a fountain or 
something. Meantime lets walk as we are until we are nearly there and drain 
the rest of the piss out of us as we go." We got up and sort of tidied our 
clothes. My jacket was only slightly stained and would dry OK. Julie's 
however was soaked as I had pissed on her breasts whilst we were 'dry 
humping' (sic) on the grass. So she was going to need a sweater or another 
jacket of some kind as well as a dress. My trousers made up for the 
presentable state of my jacket. Grass and mud stuck to the wet patches, 
especially around the knees. I wet them down again and Julie used my piss to 
remove some of the mud. Her suit was in the same state and any attempt at 
tidying was pointless. However her hair and make up were still immaculate; a 
weird contrast.

Crossing Hyde park presented few problems as there were few people about and 
nobody seemed to notice us. We left the park at Hyde Park Corner. From there 
we had to walk along oxford Street and then the length of Baker Street 
through dense crowds of smart shoppers. We received a vast assortment of 
stares of puzzlement and censure. By the time we reached Regent's Park I felt 
a cool calm sense of relief that we were less in the public gaze; and an 
adrenaline rush from the humiliating stares. Feeling Julie's heart showed 
that she was having similar feelings; it was pounding fit to burst. 

She insisted we found a quiet corner and sat down and then promptly frigged 
herself to Orgasm pissing again as she did so. I contented myself with 
draining my bladder once more and re-wetting my rapidly cooling trousers. I 
was weak at the knees and dying to come again but my prick had shrunk from 
being damp and cold for so long and I gave up after a while.

Now to put the recovery plan into operation. We got up and wandered towards 
the boating lake which runs a long way up the west side of the park. A few 
boats were out but the bank where walked was deserted. Julie wandered out 
onto a small jetty. She put down her bag and bent as if to feed the ducks. Of 
course she promptly fell in and I had to wade in hurriedly to pull her out. I 
did take the time to slip my jacket off but everything else got wet. 

Now we were legitimately soaked with lake water rather than piss, we stayed 
in long enough to rinse thoroughly and emerged squeezing water out of our 
clothes as we went. Wrapping my jacket in a plastic carrier to keep it dry; 
we then ran across the park and walked briskly along the canal to Camden Lock 
and the market stalls. 

One stall holder is an old acquaintance of Julie's and she accepted our story 
of falling into the lake with little more than a slightly sceptical glance 
and a wink which hinted she might have known of Julie's old tricks. 

I picked out some soft velvety jeans in a dusky red colour and deep pink 
shirt. Julie went for a full length blue velvet dress. It was hand 
embroidered with gold braid and little fake pearls and cost over fifty quid, 
fair penance for the shock I suppose, all I did was check that it was 
washable. She picked out matching evening shoes and a heavy lace shawl which 
cost more than the dress. A string of fake, but still expensive, pearls 
completed the outfit. I bought a pair of shiny black moccasins and we both 
bought underwear from the stall next door. 

The second stall holder, on hearing our story from Julie's friend, offered us 
the use of the shower in her flat which was just around the corner. Half an 
hour later we were showered, dressed in clean dry clothes and ready for a 
quick Pizza before heading for the concert.

Pizza goes well with red wine so we shared a litre bottle; and we just had 
time for coffee afterwards. 

By the time we got to the Barbican Centre Theatre I was already beginning to 
feel some discomfort in my bladder but the play were just starting so we 
ignored the toilets and went straight in and took our seats.  Once the 
performance got under way however all was forgotten; the production was 
terrific and we were both totally absorbed. 

The interval came and I queued for beers while Julie headed for the 'Ladies' 
she came back rather late saying the line was too long and she would hold it. 
We downed our drinks in a hurry and just as I was about to go for a piss the 
final bell rang for the second half. Well if Julie could hold it so could I 
despite a system softened up by the afternoon's happenings. So we both 
returned to our seats.

The second half surpassed the first and I was easily able to hold it; 
although the pressure was pretty great by the end of the last curtain call. 

Julie lead the way in a rush out of the centre. We paused just long enough to 
retrieve our bags, smart new carriers containing our carefully wrapped and 
packed wet clothes, from the cloakroom; and headed for the underground.

We raced down the escalator and just caught a train. It was packed and we 
were squeezed in with a crush of others from the theatres which were turning 
out all over London. 

"God I need a piss."

"So do I Julie. So do I."

"How Long to Victoria?"

"Bout 10 minutes."

"I can last that long."

"We'll have to hurry when we get there; our train goes at 11."

The underground train lurched to a halt at that point. 

We stood facing one another in the crowded train. 

" If this train doesn't move soon I'll have a real accident," Julie grinned 
nervously quite intrigued by the idea.

"It's all right for you; you can just piss straight down and nobody will 
notice except the train cleaner. Mine will show all over my jeans." I 
whispered with a worried frown.

"Serves you right for earlier."

"Pig."

The train started moving again and we survived; determined that any accident 
we had would be real this time.

Victoria main line station was chaos; all the trains were disrupted by some 
breakdown or other and we both danced around as we looked at the destination 
board for our train to the coast.

"There! Platform sixteen and it's leaving now." The train was ancient, filthy 
dirty and with peeling paint in the livery of an operator long since 
superseded. We ran down the platform and jumped into the first carriage. The 
train was even worse on the inside; it smelt of stale piss and quite a bit 
else besides. 

We found an empty double seat where we could sit side by side. It was very 
stained and seemed a bit damp, which was probably why it was empty as most of 
the seats were already taken. Julie sat down without seeming to care and I 
did likewise feeling the worn velour covering distinctly chilly under my bum. 
The train didn't move for several minutes during which more and more people 
got in until every seat was occupied and there were several standing in our 
compartment. Finally it pulled out with a shudder and creaking of springs.

"Me first, OK?" Julie didn't reply so I got up and headed down the car to 
look for a toilet. No toilet! Just a blank bulkhead where the corridor to the 
next carriage and the toilet should have been. This was an old suburban train 
and did not have connections between the carriages or toilets. 

I strolled nonchalantly back to Julie and sat down beside her. "There isn't a 
toilet."

"I noticed that as we got on," she said calmly and passed me a section of the 
newspaper she was reading.

I spread my paper over my lap and opened the business section. Julie moved 
closer and leant against me. I slid my hand under her paper and rested it in 
her crotch feeling its warm dampness turn to hot wetness as she peed through 
her velvet dress. Soon my own piss was flowing silently into my new jeans, 
deliciously hot around my balls as I read my paper. Julie's delicate fingers 
tunnelled under it and played gently In the soggy wetness as she rested her 
head on my shoulder.

The end.