In Tents

    We had done pee play before, and I knew that we were going to do it again. But my declaration of my need to piss had started out with the best possible intentions. We were lying  in the tent he had pitched earlier that day in his backyard, warm and lazy, when the need struck me.
“I have to pee.” I said, rather plainly.
“Then go pee.” It was his typical response; however, the walk to his house was farther than I was willing to travel, and peeing outside seemed like more effort than it was worth. As I explained this to him, a shit-eating grin gathered on his face.
“Then pee like you usually do.”
The thought itself was enough to send shivers to my crotch. I agreed, smiling as well, and quickly threw aside my underwear and hiked up my skirt. He was on his back already, pants off and dick pressed  against  his boxers. I came down on top of him, our tummys and genitals touching through the fabric. I wanted to let it all go. I wanted to flood his underwear, the blanket under him. It didn’t take long to start. I shifted forward a bit so his dick was resting comfortably against me. Without much warning, I started to piss on him. He instinctively thrusted against my crotch as I did so, as we both throbbed and squirmed. I stopped mid-stream and reached down to feel the wetness, decided it wasn’t enough, and emptied out the rest of my bladder. We humped, slowly and deeply, until the urine became cold.
“Do you have to go too?”
I got off of him so he could check, his abdominal muscles tensing until he decided that yes, in fact, he did. We switched positions, his soaked boxers sticking to my skin, dick and balls pressed against me close. It took him longer, but eventually I could feel the warmth of his piss  spreading down his legs and mixing with my own. 

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