The maids striptease and pee show
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The Maid's Striptease And Pee Show free porn video
The maid gets a surprise
I am alone in the house. It is time to pee. I go to the toilet and open the door. I leave the light off and the door open because enough light seeps in from the windows in the living room. I turn around at the toilet bowl, stick my hands up under the long house dress I am wearing, grab my knickers, pull them down to my knees and let them hang there. Then I lift my skirt, stick it under the elastic band at the waist-level of my dress and sit down on the toilet bowl. I have a small pee hole and a big bladder, which produces a thin and long-lasting pee stream. The pee stream emits a hissing sound while I pee and pee. As I am sitting there looking out in the air, waiting to finish, something happens.
I am Josie, Miss Josephine Gorgeford, thirty-five years of age and maid in a two story house, the home of the Pipp-Thompsons. I have been maid there for ten years. I work once a week. Usually only Spencer, the eighteen-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Pipp-Thompson, is present during my working hours. He comes home from school a few hours after I have started working. We have a good relationship and sometimes I help him with his homework. When I do that, I sit in a chair beside him in my house dress, which is a long skirt with buttons down the front from my throat to my ankles. When I cross my legs and bend slightly forward, folds in the skirt form through which he can see bare skin and perhaps my panties. According to the glances he casts at me once in a while, he finds me a bit sexy in my work outfit.
Spencer's face appears in the doorway! His mouth is half open, his eyes are big, and he looks amazed. I exclaim, "I can't believe this!" I get up, run up to him, and close the door in his face.
Just as I closed the door, he had lowered his eyes and looked down at the floor below me. I look down at myself. My knickers span the area between my feet. They look old and worn. The white crotch of them shows the shape of my pussy; the oval pussy shape with a hint of pussy crack is evident. Now I discover that my skirt is not hanging down but is still hanging at the waist of my dress. He had seen my pussy with its tight, black pussy hair! It had been visible in the daylight from the living room all the while when I was running towards him from the time he spotted me on the toilet. What a disaster! He is running down the stairs to his room now, and I hear that he is in stocking feet. Aha — so he had sneaked in on me! Oh, well, the accident was his fault, then. I finish my business on the toilet, leave the toilet room and resume my housework. I see no more of Spencer that day.
An astonishing suggestion
One day a few weeks later, I am again working at the house of the Pipp-Thompsons. I have put the incident on the toilet behind me. I am busy vacuuming the carpet in the living room when Spencer comes up the stairs from his room on the ground floor and says hello. It seems as if there is something bothering him. I smile at him and ask if there are any lessons I can help him with, but he says no. I understand that it is difficult for him to tell and in order to help him I say, "Can you give me a hint — a single word, perhaps?"
He thinks about it a while, and then he says, "Pee." He looks anxiously at me.
I guess, "Well, maybe you have seen some girls peeing in the woods on the way home from school." No, but he says I am close. I look expectantly at him.
"Do you remember when I saw you on the toilet?" he asks.
"How could I forget?" I say coldly. He says nothing. I am getting more and more curious and say, "Okay, let's have it."
He takes courage and says, "I wonder if you would let me see you do it again." He looks uncertainly at me.
I am astounded. I cannot believe my ears, and that I tell him, "What are you saying?" He looks startled.
"Are you mad at me for what happened?" he says nervously.
"No - o," I say and look down because, earlier, I did make up my mind to forget the subject. I choose to treat his questions seriously then and there since we have such a good relationship and he has taken the trouble to ask. Was it so important that he had seen me half naked on the toilet? Not really, but perhaps he had seen a bit too much. I blush — my naked body must have been quite a sight for him. But can I endure it?
"You looked awesome!" he says. I raise my eyes and look at him. He seems to have regained his self-confidence. "I saw your panties — and everything else!" he continues eagerly, "You were so great when you came walking towards me —like a queen!"
I feel flattered. I smile, ruffle his hair and say, "You're a bit of a Peeping Tom, aren't you?"
He does not comment on that, but says instead, "The only thing I did not see was a real pee stream." His face has a begging expression.
This is obviously important to him. "I see. So, you like to watch a girl pee. Is that what are you thinking about?" I say.
"Yes, I think peeing girls are so exciting," he says. "There is one more thing," he hurries to say, "after you had gone, I returned to the bathroom and licked some pee off of the floor. I had seen that you peed a little when you got up from the toilet seat." I had not noticed it myself and had not cleaned the toilet floor afterwards because I had already washed it that day.
"I just had to ask. Do you mind?" he concludes.
"Well, maybe not," is my answer. He looks relieved.
I ask how he discovered his interest for peeing girls and girls' pee, and he tells willingly, "When I was a kid, I was often down at the beach. There was a group of girls there. One day they were all in particularly good spirits. They had brought a bucket. They peed in the bucket all day. Late in the day one of them disappeared with the bucket. I had taken a nap when I was suddenly awakened by something splashing over my head. It was she with the bucket that was emptying the bucket over me. She said, 'This will teach you to mind your own business.' First, I was shocked. But then I licked the pee off of the ground and leaves."
Spencer's red cheeks revealed that he had become excited as if he relived the situation. "But why did they do that?" I ask.
"I don't understand that either," he says innocently, "I was only sleeping under some bushes. It's true!"
Hmm, he had probably been sleeping because he was tired after having spied on the girls for hours while they changed, bathed, sunbathed — and peed. And he had probably done that many times earlier. The girls had poured their pee over him to cure him, but had achieved the opposite effect.
This reminds me of a story that is being told about the Pipp-Thompson family, a story that is claimed to be true. It is about the family's Peeping Tom tendencies, and it appears as if the family has its own Peeping Tom gene. The family, then called Topp-Prudence, should have acquired its name in the late 1800s when three persons representing different generations of the family should have been convicted in The Supreme Court of extensive Peeping Tom activities. Some of the victimised families were represented among the judges, and the Topp-Prudence family had negotiated with these representatives to choose a name change rather than paying a huge fine. The victims were the ones who had suggested the name change, and the name had to be kept for 777 years. The three suspects were accused of having attained visual access to women's private quarters. They had used an advanced, several yards long viewing device they had made themselves from wooden boards, mirrors, and lenses. They had been observed while they performed daring operations like hanging from eaves by their feet. The witness reports also included a dazzling view of the viewing device as it was carried along the horizon in front of a beautiful sunset. The accused had succeeded in observing ladies in their lingerie — common girls in their knickers — and they had also had the luck of observing women in all their glory, in their birthday suits. The prosecuting lawyer had said that feminine intimacies across the district had in this abominable way been on display for the enjoyment and admiration solely of the Topp-Prudences, who deserved a stern judgment. The defence attorney had argued that the punishment had to be gentle because the viewing device had shown the objects unclear due to poor lens quality. The device was still on display in the long room of Scotland Yard's Black Museum for crime artefacts.
When Mr. Pipp-Thompson, Spencer's father, hears someone tell this story, he becomes furious and says that the story is nonsense and rubbish and untrue from beginning to end, in spite of the fact that evidence for the contrary does exist. He also says that he intends to pursue to The Supreme Court if necessary anyone who tells the story publicly. However, evil tongues say that Mr. Pipp-Thompson is lying because The Supreme Court still has a member that belongs to one of the victimised families, and this means that he would most likely lose the case.
I sigh. I ask Spencer if he has a girlfriend, but get no answer, which suggests that he does not have any. "Get yourself a girlfriend!" I say and add, "A boy your age has had a number of girlfriends. A girl in love will do anything for her boyfriend."
"Really?" he says with a dreamy look in his eyes.
I take hold of his shoulders, turn him around, push him towards the stairs, and say, "Go straight down to your room and think about it." He goes down to himself, and I resume vacuuming.
The next days proceed normally, and I do not think of Spencer's suggestion anymore.
The maid makes a decision
One night I cannot sleep, I think about the look on Spencer's face when he saw me sitting on the toilet. My heart is beating hard and fast. I need to see that facial expression again! But how could I make it happen? Why, he had himself told me what he wanted ... Should I go to the extent of letting him watch me pee again? Well, we are always alone in the house — no one would see it. But how should I do it? And where? On the toilet? No, better in the living room with good daylight through the large windows there. I continue thinking while I am lying there...
As I stand up one day I shall be working at the family Pipp-Thompson's house, I take courage and decide to ask Spencer if he wants me to pee for him — the way I want to do it. I pick out a pair of panties in a drawer of my closet and put them on. I go to the Pipp-Thompson house and start working. After a while, I need to pee. In order to collect pee for Spencer, I choose not to go to the toilet. Now and then, I excite myself by crossing my legs and pushing my hand against my pussy. But he is late today — what is he doing? Finally, I hear the front door downstairs being opened. It must be Spencer coming home from school. I shout, "Spencer, is that you? Can you come up here a minute?"
He is coming up the stairs. I am nervous — my heart is beating heavily. Spencer is interested in what I think of doing, but I do not know what he will think about my plan. I ask him how his school day has been. All right, he says vaguely. It seems that not everything is okay. He needs an encouragement — a powerful one! I put my hand on the bottom of my stomach and say, "Do you see this bulge on my stomach?"
"Oh, you're pregnant. Congratulations, Josie!" he says.
"Don't be silly, I don't make babies down there! Now you really need to get yourself a girlfriend who can teach you the ABC of the female body."
"The ropes about the female body from other girls? But why can't you tell me, Josie?" he says, adding with a smile, "Since you help me with so many other things."
I smile back at him because he is right about that. "As a matter of fact I have to pee," I say dryly.
"Just go ahead and pee, Josie. I shall not disturb you," he says, looking sad again, or is he ashamed?
I take his hands in mine and ask, "Do you remember what you asked me about a while ago?"
He thinks for a moment and says, "You mean about letting me see you pee? But what of it?" I do not answer, just look knowingly at him. Then he exclaims, "Would you really do it?"
"Well, maybe it's not right of us", I say in order to avoid pushing him.
"There's nothing wrong with that — and no one will know," he says eagerly.
I capitulate, tilt my head a bit and say, "OK, so let's agree on that, then." Spencer looks incredulously at me.
Spontaneously, he kisses my mouth. Embarrassed, I push him away. He lets go of my hands and starts jumping around in a wild dance of joy, singing, "Josie's gonna pee-ee, Josie's gonna pee-ee."
I laugh at his dancing and say, "But only this once — Okay?" I put one leg in front of the other, put my butt out, press my hand on my pussy and moan. It is no longer important to hide my pee desperation from him because soon he will see much more than that — and more than what he expects, I think.
He glances at me, as I stand there crooked and changes his singing, "Josie's full of pee-ee. Josie's full of pee-ee."
"Young man," I say, "Take it easy, come over here, and hurry if you don’t mind." He comes over to me and looks at me.
I explain to him what I am thinking of doing.
"Wow, that sounds great, Josie!" he says.
"That's good," I say, relieved and excited at the same time, eager to begin. I long to see his gaze on my pussy and my pee as it presses through my pussy slit and bursts out in a long stream. And I long to see my pee squirt all over him. It will be so good that it could never, ever be wrong! I lead him to the railing above the stairs down to the ground floor and ask him to sit down with his back against the railing.
The show
I have constructed a kind of striptease dance for him. The starting position is in front of him and slightly to the side of him. With crossed legs and butt out, I sway up and down a few times. Then I move forward towards him along a line past him, then to the side in front of him to the opposite side of him, and further back from him to a position corresponding to where I started but on the opposite side in front of him. There, I repeat the swaying pee desperation movement with my legs crossed. This way, I continue to move back and forth in front of him along a U-shaped path. When I am in front of him, I stop and perform my striptease show.
Now I am standing in front of him for the first time as part of the show. He sits perfectly still and says nothing. His eyes are staring. His gaze moves from one body part to another all over my body. It follows every move I make. I smile. He is totally in my control now.
Slowly, I lift my skirt while I alternately place one leg in front of the other. He pays close attention as more and more of my legs appear behind my skirt's edge. "Would you like to see my knickers?" I ask rhetorically as the hem of my skirt reaches my panties. He responds by kissing the little snippet of my panties that he can see. "Remember that girls prefer that you kiss them elsewhere than their knickers because otherwise they might think that you're in love with their knickers," I say educationally. He chuckles and glances up at me. He seems to disagree. I continue lifting my dress until the part of my panties that he can see just covers my hairy pussy behind it. My strong hair growth down there has the effect of pushing my panties forward. That way, it looks as if there is a fat cunt under my panties. Oh, he kisses my panties again, and this time I sense his mouth on my clit behind the panties. Then I continue my U-shaped pendulum movement in front of him.
Now I am back in front of him. I pull my skirt up so high that he can see all of my panties. I fasten the skirt behind the elastic band in the waist of my skirt all the way round. Then I pull my panties halfway down such that they barely cover my pussy hair. The crotch of the panties is dangling between my legs. "Do you recognise my panties?" I say, "They are the same as the last time, you know, when you saw me on the toilet."
"Oh, really?" he says and continues, "Yes, they are just great, Josie, you must give them to me as a gift on my next birthday!"
I laugh, say maybe, and turn around. Now he sees for the first time as part of the show an intimate part of my body — my butt crack. Facing him again, I draw naughtily my underpants down with a quick motion and leave them hanging over my thighs.
Now he sees all of my pussy. He is looking direct at it, and he is staring exactly in the same way that he did when he saw me peeing on the toilet.
"You have an awesome pussy, Josie!" he says and adds, "You should show it more often."
I chuckle because I am proud of my hairy pussy. With my legs slightly apart and my hands on my hips, I stand still in front of him and just let him admire my pussy. The pussy hair does not cover the whole of my pussy slit so he can see it, as well. I turn and bend forward. I look back at him over my shoulder while my pussy peeps out at him from between my thighs.
"Wow," he exclaims, red in the face.
"This is just in the way," I say and quickly remove my underpants after having turned to face him again. I put my legs apart.
I cannot hold my pee anymore; the pee comes out of me right away. A soft, muffled sound is heard. It is the sound of pee hitting the carpet. The pee forms lines on it. I'll clean it afterwards. Now a short, strong pee stream jets out of my pussy. It gives an intense hissing sound. Pee droplets land on the floor in front of him with a crackling sound. Immediately he stretches out a hand, puts it in the pee, lifts it to his lips and slurps the pee eagerly by sucking his fingers. I have never seen a man in such a situation before. I stand still in front of him and observe him until he has finished sucking his fingers. He smacks to strengthen the taste of the pee in his mouth. Then he stares at me with a round, half-open mouth.
To hit his mouth is a challenge! I bend backwards to be able to produce a high stream. I pee again, but the stream goes to the side of him. By making a swinging movement, I succeed in causing the stream to sweep across his forehead. A few drops hit Spencer's mouth. He closes his mouth and sucks the pee. He opens his mouth again this time wide open, eager to get more.
Now, his face is so red that I am almost afraid he will have a seizure. His heart must beat like a drum! To be sure, I ask, "Are you okay?"
"Sure, this is going excellently," he replies. He straightens himself and smiles soothingly at me to show that he is okay, but soon he falls back into staring at my pussy. I am also taken in by the situation now — want to see his face glistening with pee.
I let the dress fall from where it is hanging at my waist. Then I begin to unbutton the buttons all the way down the front of my dress. I put one foot in front of the other and push the thigh in front tightly onto the rear one to keep my pee back. For a moment, I pause the unbuttoning, bend forward, press my hand against my pussy and moan. "Wait just a minute, I'll soon pee again," I say apologetically.
"Take your time, Josie," Spencer says as he looks at my breasts, which stick out between the sides of my dress. "And I like the taste of your pee," he adds, and it looks as if he means it. I take my dress off, throw it aside and stand naked in front of him.
Again, a pee stream sways over him from side to side. Spencer has closed his eyes. Piss runs down his face. He presses out air between his lips such that pee squirts like a rain shower.
That thick, white wool sweater of his begs to be wet! It is good for holding the pee such that not too much pee reaches the floor. I go up to him and open his waistband and the top shirt button. I put my pussy under his chin and use a finger to hold his shirt and sweater away from his body. Now I pump pee under his shirt. I look down at him while I pee and pee. Finally, pee flows out on the floor. I pull myself back from him and look at him. Here and there, pee has penetrated his sweater. The crotch of his trousers is soaking wet.
His golden blonde hair needs to be wet! Again, I go up to him. I bend his head forward, push it between my legs, and sit down on top of it. With a groan, I squeeze out two pee streams. They spurt forward over his head, between the bars of the railing, and down the stairs. To prevent this, I bend forward, and now all the pee streams into his hair. I move from side to side to make all of his hair wet.
Now, I have gotten into such a high state of randiness that I cannot but masturbate. I start rubbing my pussy with my hand. The rubbing continues at an increasingly rapid rate. I start moaning. Spencer encourages me by rubbing his hand on my thigh. With a sinking "Oo–oh!" I come. I press my pussy hard against his head. It is wonderful to come on him while my pussy sits tightly on his head all the way from the clitoris to the back end of the pussy-crack.
Exhausted by dancing, peeing, arousal, and orgasm, I place my hands on my knees, bow my head, close my eyes, and relax. All I hear are sounds from Spencer as he is sucking my pee from his fingers. Having emptied my bladder all over him fills me with satisfaction. I open my eyes and look at the results of the show. The wet butt of his pants sits in a puddle of pee. The back of his sweater is soaked. His light hair has dark streaks of pee. The black pussy hair of mine sits like a toupee on top of his head. This inspires me to pee again.
I push my butt backwards in order to place my pussy in front of Spencer's face. Then I bend backwards to move my pussy into a perfect angle. A brief but powerful pee stream shoots out of my pussy. His head jerks backwards as the stream hits him in the middle of his face. So we are done.
Back to normal
I move away from him and pick up my panties. I use them to wipe pee off my body. Spencer gets up, takes my hand and thanks me for the show, "You have been absolutely wonderful. I will never forget this." I smile friendly at him. He walks towards the stairs, and I put on my underwear and skirt. Then I clean up everywhere after us and especially on the carpet as best I can.
Next time I am there, the week after, I check the carpet thoroughly by doing smelling tests. There, I find a small patch that smells of pee! Should I remove it or leave it? Maybe it would be a good idea to talk to Spencer about it. I call his name, and he comes up the stairs. I smile secretly at him and invite him over to "a special place". I bend down; smell the patch of pee and smile invitingly at him. He smells it, and he nods and smiles. We agree to let the stain of pee remain and keep it as our own, very special secret for all the days to come, and so it does.
I am alone in the house. It is time to pee. I go to the toilet and open the door. I leave the light off and the door open because enough light seeps in from the windows in the living room. I turn around at the toilet bowl, stick my hands up under the long house dress I am wearing, grab my knickers, pull them down to my knees and let them hang there. Then I lift my skirt, stick it under the elastic band at the waist-level of my dress and sit down on the toilet bowl. I have a small pee hole and a big bladder, which produces a thin and long-lasting pee stream. The pee stream emits a hissing sound while I pee and pee. As I am sitting there looking out in the air, waiting to finish, something happens.
I am Josie, Miss Josephine Gorgeford, thirty-five years of age and maid in a two story house, the home of the Pipp-Thompsons. I have been maid there for ten years. I work once a week. Usually only Spencer, the eighteen-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Pipp-Thompson, is present during my working hours. He comes home from school a few hours after I have started working. We have a good relationship and sometimes I help him with his homework. When I do that, I sit in a chair beside him in my house dress, which is a long skirt with buttons down the front from my throat to my ankles. When I cross my legs and bend slightly forward, folds in the skirt form through which he can see bare skin and perhaps my panties. According to the glances he casts at me once in a while, he finds me a bit sexy in my work outfit.
Spencer's face appears in the doorway! His mouth is half open, his eyes are big, and he looks amazed. I exclaim, "I can't believe this!" I get up, run up to him, and close the door in his face.
Just as I closed the door, he had lowered his eyes and looked down at the floor below me. I look down at myself. My knickers span the area between my feet. They look old and worn. The white crotch of them shows the shape of my pussy; the oval pussy shape with a hint of pussy crack is evident. Now I discover that my skirt is not hanging down but is still hanging at the waist of my dress. He had seen my pussy with its tight, black pussy hair! It had been visible in the daylight from the living room all the while when I was running towards him from the time he spotted me on the toilet. What a disaster! He is running down the stairs to his room now, and I hear that he is in stocking feet. Aha — so he had sneaked in on me! Oh, well, the accident was his fault, then. I finish my business on the toilet, leave the toilet room and resume my housework. I see no more of Spencer that day.
An astonishing suggestion
One day a few weeks later, I am again working at the house of the Pipp-Thompsons. I have put the incident on the toilet behind me. I am busy vacuuming the carpet in the living room when Spencer comes up the stairs from his room on the ground floor and says hello. It seems as if there is something bothering him. I smile at him and ask if there are any lessons I can help him with, but he says no. I understand that it is difficult for him to tell and in order to help him I say, "Can you give me a hint — a single word, perhaps?"
He thinks about it a while, and then he says, "Pee." He looks anxiously at me.
I guess, "Well, maybe you have seen some girls peeing in the woods on the way home from school." No, but he says I am close. I look expectantly at him.
"Do you remember when I saw you on the toilet?" he asks.
"How could I forget?" I say coldly. He says nothing. I am getting more and more curious and say, "Okay, let's have it."
He takes courage and says, "I wonder if you would let me see you do it again." He looks uncertainly at me.
I am astounded. I cannot believe my ears, and that I tell him, "What are you saying?" He looks startled.
"Are you mad at me for what happened?" he says nervously.
"No - o," I say and look down because, earlier, I did make up my mind to forget the subject. I choose to treat his questions seriously then and there since we have such a good relationship and he has taken the trouble to ask. Was it so important that he had seen me half naked on the toilet? Not really, but perhaps he had seen a bit too much. I blush — my naked body must have been quite a sight for him. But can I endure it?
"You looked awesome!" he says. I raise my eyes and look at him. He seems to have regained his self-confidence. "I saw your panties — and everything else!" he continues eagerly, "You were so great when you came walking towards me —like a queen!"
I feel flattered. I smile, ruffle his hair and say, "You're a bit of a Peeping Tom, aren't you?"
He does not comment on that, but says instead, "The only thing I did not see was a real pee stream." His face has a begging expression.
This is obviously important to him. "I see. So, you like to watch a girl pee. Is that what are you thinking about?" I say.
"Yes, I think peeing girls are so exciting," he says. "There is one more thing," he hurries to say, "after you had gone, I returned to the bathroom and licked some pee off of the floor. I had seen that you peed a little when you got up from the toilet seat." I had not noticed it myself and had not cleaned the toilet floor afterwards because I had already washed it that day.
"I just had to ask. Do you mind?" he concludes.
"Well, maybe not," is my answer. He looks relieved.
I ask how he discovered his interest for peeing girls and girls' pee, and he tells willingly, "When I was a kid, I was often down at the beach. There was a group of girls there. One day they were all in particularly good spirits. They had brought a bucket. They peed in the bucket all day. Late in the day one of them disappeared with the bucket. I had taken a nap when I was suddenly awakened by something splashing over my head. It was she with the bucket that was emptying the bucket over me. She said, 'This will teach you to mind your own business.' First, I was shocked. But then I licked the pee off of the ground and leaves."
Spencer's red cheeks revealed that he had become excited as if he relived the situation. "But why did they do that?" I ask.
"I don't understand that either," he says innocently, "I was only sleeping under some bushes. It's true!"
Hmm, he had probably been sleeping because he was tired after having spied on the girls for hours while they changed, bathed, sunbathed — and peed. And he had probably done that many times earlier. The girls had poured their pee over him to cure him, but had achieved the opposite effect.
This reminds me of a story that is being told about the Pipp-Thompson family, a story that is claimed to be true. It is about the family's Peeping Tom tendencies, and it appears as if the family has its own Peeping Tom gene. The family, then called Topp-Prudence, should have acquired its name in the late 1800s when three persons representing different generations of the family should have been convicted in The Supreme Court of extensive Peeping Tom activities. Some of the victimised families were represented among the judges, and the Topp-Prudence family had negotiated with these representatives to choose a name change rather than paying a huge fine. The victims were the ones who had suggested the name change, and the name had to be kept for 777 years. The three suspects were accused of having attained visual access to women's private quarters. They had used an advanced, several yards long viewing device they had made themselves from wooden boards, mirrors, and lenses. They had been observed while they performed daring operations like hanging from eaves by their feet. The witness reports also included a dazzling view of the viewing device as it was carried along the horizon in front of a beautiful sunset. The accused had succeeded in observing ladies in their lingerie — common girls in their knickers — and they had also had the luck of observing women in all their glory, in their birthday suits. The prosecuting lawyer had said that feminine intimacies across the district had in this abominable way been on display for the enjoyment and admiration solely of the Topp-Prudences, who deserved a stern judgment. The defence attorney had argued that the punishment had to be gentle because the viewing device had shown the objects unclear due to poor lens quality. The device was still on display in the long room of Scotland Yard's Black Museum for crime artefacts.
When Mr. Pipp-Thompson, Spencer's father, hears someone tell this story, he becomes furious and says that the story is nonsense and rubbish and untrue from beginning to end, in spite of the fact that evidence for the contrary does exist. He also says that he intends to pursue to The Supreme Court if necessary anyone who tells the story publicly. However, evil tongues say that Mr. Pipp-Thompson is lying because The Supreme Court still has a member that belongs to one of the victimised families, and this means that he would most likely lose the case.
I sigh. I ask Spencer if he has a girlfriend, but get no answer, which suggests that he does not have any. "Get yourself a girlfriend!" I say and add, "A boy your age has had a number of girlfriends. A girl in love will do anything for her boyfriend."
"Really?" he says with a dreamy look in his eyes.
I take hold of his shoulders, turn him around, push him towards the stairs, and say, "Go straight down to your room and think about it." He goes down to himself, and I resume vacuuming.
The next days proceed normally, and I do not think of Spencer's suggestion anymore.
The maid makes a decision
One night I cannot sleep, I think about the look on Spencer's face when he saw me sitting on the toilet. My heart is beating hard and fast. I need to see that facial expression again! But how could I make it happen? Why, he had himself told me what he wanted ... Should I go to the extent of letting him watch me pee again? Well, we are always alone in the house — no one would see it. But how should I do it? And where? On the toilet? No, better in the living room with good daylight through the large windows there. I continue thinking while I am lying there...
As I stand up one day I shall be working at the family Pipp-Thompson's house, I take courage and decide to ask Spencer if he wants me to pee for him — the way I want to do it. I pick out a pair of panties in a drawer of my closet and put them on. I go to the Pipp-Thompson house and start working. After a while, I need to pee. In order to collect pee for Spencer, I choose not to go to the toilet. Now and then, I excite myself by crossing my legs and pushing my hand against my pussy. But he is late today — what is he doing? Finally, I hear the front door downstairs being opened. It must be Spencer coming home from school. I shout, "Spencer, is that you? Can you come up here a minute?"
He is coming up the stairs. I am nervous — my heart is beating heavily. Spencer is interested in what I think of doing, but I do not know what he will think about my plan. I ask him how his school day has been. All right, he says vaguely. It seems that not everything is okay. He needs an encouragement — a powerful one! I put my hand on the bottom of my stomach and say, "Do you see this bulge on my stomach?"
"Oh, you're pregnant. Congratulations, Josie!" he says.
"Don't be silly, I don't make babies down there! Now you really need to get yourself a girlfriend who can teach you the ABC of the female body."
"The ropes about the female body from other girls? But why can't you tell me, Josie?" he says, adding with a smile, "Since you help me with so many other things."
I smile back at him because he is right about that. "As a matter of fact I have to pee," I say dryly.
"Just go ahead and pee, Josie. I shall not disturb you," he says, looking sad again, or is he ashamed?
I take his hands in mine and ask, "Do you remember what you asked me about a while ago?"
He thinks for a moment and says, "You mean about letting me see you pee? But what of it?" I do not answer, just look knowingly at him. Then he exclaims, "Would you really do it?"
"Well, maybe it's not right of us", I say in order to avoid pushing him.
"There's nothing wrong with that — and no one will know," he says eagerly.
I capitulate, tilt my head a bit and say, "OK, so let's agree on that, then." Spencer looks incredulously at me.
Spontaneously, he kisses my mouth. Embarrassed, I push him away. He lets go of my hands and starts jumping around in a wild dance of joy, singing, "Josie's gonna pee-ee, Josie's gonna pee-ee."
I laugh at his dancing and say, "But only this once — Okay?" I put one leg in front of the other, put my butt out, press my hand on my pussy and moan. It is no longer important to hide my pee desperation from him because soon he will see much more than that — and more than what he expects, I think.
He glances at me, as I stand there crooked and changes his singing, "Josie's full of pee-ee. Josie's full of pee-ee."
"Young man," I say, "Take it easy, come over here, and hurry if you don’t mind." He comes over to me and looks at me.
I explain to him what I am thinking of doing.
"Wow, that sounds great, Josie!" he says.
"That's good," I say, relieved and excited at the same time, eager to begin. I long to see his gaze on my pussy and my pee as it presses through my pussy slit and bursts out in a long stream. And I long to see my pee squirt all over him. It will be so good that it could never, ever be wrong! I lead him to the railing above the stairs down to the ground floor and ask him to sit down with his back against the railing.
The show
I have constructed a kind of striptease dance for him. The starting position is in front of him and slightly to the side of him. With crossed legs and butt out, I sway up and down a few times. Then I move forward towards him along a line past him, then to the side in front of him to the opposite side of him, and further back from him to a position corresponding to where I started but on the opposite side in front of him. There, I repeat the swaying pee desperation movement with my legs crossed. This way, I continue to move back and forth in front of him along a U-shaped path. When I am in front of him, I stop and perform my striptease show.
Now I am standing in front of him for the first time as part of the show. He sits perfectly still and says nothing. His eyes are staring. His gaze moves from one body part to another all over my body. It follows every move I make. I smile. He is totally in my control now.
Slowly, I lift my skirt while I alternately place one leg in front of the other. He pays close attention as more and more of my legs appear behind my skirt's edge. "Would you like to see my knickers?" I ask rhetorically as the hem of my skirt reaches my panties. He responds by kissing the little snippet of my panties that he can see. "Remember that girls prefer that you kiss them elsewhere than their knickers because otherwise they might think that you're in love with their knickers," I say educationally. He chuckles and glances up at me. He seems to disagree. I continue lifting my dress until the part of my panties that he can see just covers my hairy pussy behind it. My strong hair growth down there has the effect of pushing my panties forward. That way, it looks as if there is a fat cunt under my panties. Oh, he kisses my panties again, and this time I sense his mouth on my clit behind the panties. Then I continue my U-shaped pendulum movement in front of him.
Now I am back in front of him. I pull my skirt up so high that he can see all of my panties. I fasten the skirt behind the elastic band in the waist of my skirt all the way round. Then I pull my panties halfway down such that they barely cover my pussy hair. The crotch of the panties is dangling between my legs. "Do you recognise my panties?" I say, "They are the same as the last time, you know, when you saw me on the toilet."
"Oh, really?" he says and continues, "Yes, they are just great, Josie, you must give them to me as a gift on my next birthday!"
I laugh, say maybe, and turn around. Now he sees for the first time as part of the show an intimate part of my body — my butt crack. Facing him again, I draw naughtily my underpants down with a quick motion and leave them hanging over my thighs.
Now he sees all of my pussy. He is looking direct at it, and he is staring exactly in the same way that he did when he saw me peeing on the toilet.
"You have an awesome pussy, Josie!" he says and adds, "You should show it more often."
I chuckle because I am proud of my hairy pussy. With my legs slightly apart and my hands on my hips, I stand still in front of him and just let him admire my pussy. The pussy hair does not cover the whole of my pussy slit so he can see it, as well. I turn and bend forward. I look back at him over my shoulder while my pussy peeps out at him from between my thighs.
"Wow," he exclaims, red in the face.
"This is just in the way," I say and quickly remove my underpants after having turned to face him again. I put my legs apart.
I cannot hold my pee anymore; the pee comes out of me right away. A soft, muffled sound is heard. It is the sound of pee hitting the carpet. The pee forms lines on it. I'll clean it afterwards. Now a short, strong pee stream jets out of my pussy. It gives an intense hissing sound. Pee droplets land on the floor in front of him with a crackling sound. Immediately he stretches out a hand, puts it in the pee, lifts it to his lips and slurps the pee eagerly by sucking his fingers. I have never seen a man in such a situation before. I stand still in front of him and observe him until he has finished sucking his fingers. He smacks to strengthen the taste of the pee in his mouth. Then he stares at me with a round, half-open mouth.
To hit his mouth is a challenge! I bend backwards to be able to produce a high stream. I pee again, but the stream goes to the side of him. By making a swinging movement, I succeed in causing the stream to sweep across his forehead. A few drops hit Spencer's mouth. He closes his mouth and sucks the pee. He opens his mouth again this time wide open, eager to get more.
Now, his face is so red that I am almost afraid he will have a seizure. His heart must beat like a drum! To be sure, I ask, "Are you okay?"
"Sure, this is going excellently," he replies. He straightens himself and smiles soothingly at me to show that he is okay, but soon he falls back into staring at my pussy. I am also taken in by the situation now — want to see his face glistening with pee.
I let the dress fall from where it is hanging at my waist. Then I begin to unbutton the buttons all the way down the front of my dress. I put one foot in front of the other and push the thigh in front tightly onto the rear one to keep my pee back. For a moment, I pause the unbuttoning, bend forward, press my hand against my pussy and moan. "Wait just a minute, I'll soon pee again," I say apologetically.
"Take your time, Josie," Spencer says as he looks at my breasts, which stick out between the sides of my dress. "And I like the taste of your pee," he adds, and it looks as if he means it. I take my dress off, throw it aside and stand naked in front of him.
Again, a pee stream sways over him from side to side. Spencer has closed his eyes. Piss runs down his face. He presses out air between his lips such that pee squirts like a rain shower.
That thick, white wool sweater of his begs to be wet! It is good for holding the pee such that not too much pee reaches the floor. I go up to him and open his waistband and the top shirt button. I put my pussy under his chin and use a finger to hold his shirt and sweater away from his body. Now I pump pee under his shirt. I look down at him while I pee and pee. Finally, pee flows out on the floor. I pull myself back from him and look at him. Here and there, pee has penetrated his sweater. The crotch of his trousers is soaking wet.
His golden blonde hair needs to be wet! Again, I go up to him. I bend his head forward, push it between my legs, and sit down on top of it. With a groan, I squeeze out two pee streams. They spurt forward over his head, between the bars of the railing, and down the stairs. To prevent this, I bend forward, and now all the pee streams into his hair. I move from side to side to make all of his hair wet.
Now, I have gotten into such a high state of randiness that I cannot but masturbate. I start rubbing my pussy with my hand. The rubbing continues at an increasingly rapid rate. I start moaning. Spencer encourages me by rubbing his hand on my thigh. With a sinking "Oo–oh!" I come. I press my pussy hard against his head. It is wonderful to come on him while my pussy sits tightly on his head all the way from the clitoris to the back end of the pussy-crack.
Exhausted by dancing, peeing, arousal, and orgasm, I place my hands on my knees, bow my head, close my eyes, and relax. All I hear are sounds from Spencer as he is sucking my pee from his fingers. Having emptied my bladder all over him fills me with satisfaction. I open my eyes and look at the results of the show. The wet butt of his pants sits in a puddle of pee. The back of his sweater is soaked. His light hair has dark streaks of pee. The black pussy hair of mine sits like a toupee on top of his head. This inspires me to pee again.
I push my butt backwards in order to place my pussy in front of Spencer's face. Then I bend backwards to move my pussy into a perfect angle. A brief but powerful pee stream shoots out of my pussy. His head jerks backwards as the stream hits him in the middle of his face. So we are done.
Back to normal
I move away from him and pick up my panties. I use them to wipe pee off my body. Spencer gets up, takes my hand and thanks me for the show, "You have been absolutely wonderful. I will never forget this." I smile friendly at him. He walks towards the stairs, and I put on my underwear and skirt. Then I clean up everywhere after us and especially on the carpet as best I can.
Next time I am there, the week after, I check the carpet thoroughly by doing smelling tests. There, I find a small patch that smells of pee! Should I remove it or leave it? Maybe it would be a good idea to talk to Spencer about it. I call his name, and he comes up the stairs. I smile secretly at him and invite him over to "a special place". I bend down; smell the patch of pee and smile invitingly at him. He smells it, and he nods and smiles. We agree to let the stain of pee remain and keep it as our own, very special secret for all the days to come, and so it does.
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