Wet: Tamara Chapter 3

Wet: Tamara Chapter 3

Tamara's Weekend Getaway - Tamara's Wet Adventure Chapter 3

Tamara planned our weekend break, different from last time when I selected the beach. This time, she chose a remote area and not camping. Instead, we'd stay at an old-fashioned pub with a cozy fireplace and gorgeous rolling hills as far as the eye could see. I jokingly mentioned that there was a possibility the fire would not be lit in the middle of July. But at least we could find shelter if it rained.

Knowing how excited she gets in wet situations, I was eager for another adventure like our last one. I've spent the evenings researching nearby pubs and hiking routes, since there are so many options.

Both of us enjoy hiking, so the anticipation of exploring the wilderness was thrilling. And let's not forget the fact that we'll likely be getting wet again.

To help us navigate the various hiking trails, I've been mapping them out. There are countless paths crisscrossing the countryside. I'm hoping for another memorable and soggy experience with Tamara.

Thinking back to our earlier trip, she'd playfully mentioned squatting and peeing on the path right in front of me. That thought hadn't left my head since then, imagining her astride me and peeing.

After returning home from our last escapade, however, she'd kept the conversation light and harmless. We'd explored quite a few juicy topics, but sadly, nothing related to peeing. If anything, our lovemaking had become more vanilla. We didn't mention the lack of peeing in our conversations.

However, she sent me a peculiar selfie one day, while she was at work. She crouched on the toilet, her skirt hiked so high that I could see her thighs. There, between her legs, her green underwear revealed a large, dark, damp patch on the gusset. Her fingers were holding the fabric taut, making the area around the stain prominent. Her message read, "Been in a long meeting with endless coffees. Couldn't wait to relieve myself towards the end. Felt naughty and exciting." She added that she had to take the panties off before returning to her office.

I found this thought humorous. This naughty little secret was hidden away in her purse, tucked in with her emergency Kit Kat.

Our sex life that evening was extraordinary. I peeled off her skirt as she got home, and her high heels were off before she could utter a word of protest. She said, "Slow down, I'm not wearing them, okay?" But still, we had passionate sex on the stairs, where Tamara was anxious to experiment with another unusual location.

As the start of the upcoming weekend approached, I collected Tamara at work. She was wearing a black skirt, tights, and a green, sleeveless top. Her hair was styled up, showcasing her long neck.

Sitting in the passenger seat, she sighed, grateful to have left work behind for the time being. She leaned over and kissed me passionately, which was surprising, considering how tense the evening was filling up.

The night before, we'd gathered our bags and supplies, preparing for our mini-vacation. We packed several sets of clothing, boots, fleeces, raincoats, and multiple maps. Our aim was to leave directly from work to ease the post-work traffic. We also wanted to enjoy the pub's evening dinner.

It didn't matter how prepared we were, the traffic was intense. However, my car radio kept us entertained while we sang and chatted about the upcoming weekend.

Despite leaving on time, we faced the typical Friday evening traffic. We were moving along at a snail's pace, which was not enjoyable.

After identifying a service station, we stopped, and Tamara said, "We both deserve another coffee." I couldn't agree more. "Drive-through or shall we go inside?"

In conclusion, Tamara decided that the drive-through option would be quicker. Then again, she shed another shrug and expressed agreement. You can also read: How to write a good Advertisement Crisis in Customer Service: An Effective Ad and the Importance

Right after I drove into the parking area and headed toward the drive-thru, Tamara glanced my way. "Umm, you know what? Maybe we could just go in instead?"

I laughed. "Yeah, that's a decent idea."

"I just need to stretch out my legs a bit." She grinned.

"We'll be walking for hours this weekend, might as well start early."

"Right, sure. But what's a little extra walking, right?"

"True."

As we stood in line for our large cappuccinos, I noticed Tamara couldn't stay still. She was always shifting her weight from foot to foot. Then she'd grab stirrers, then a minute later she'd run back for napkins. I knew she desperately needed to pee. Her signature dancer's pose was evident. I half anticipated her heading to the toilet. I wouldn't have had a problem with it. I was eager to observe the process. She'd bounce, then jiggle, trying to cover her movement while appearing casual. It only lasted about ten seconds, followed by an intense need to fidget. Any movement to divert from her boiling desire to release her bladder.

It got glaringly obvious when she started squeezing her thighs together. She collected her drink. I stifled a laugh as she awkwardly shuffled alongside me back to the car. It was obvious she was uncomfortable. Her full bladder was making itself known.

This was a bizarre situation. It was both thrilling and a little hot. She was about to burst. I had no idea what she'd do next. I knew she had to do something soon!

I headed to the driver's side and hopped in, but Tamara didn't join me.

I waited a few moments, looking at the parking lot worriedly. Then, above the din of traffic, I heard a continuous hissing. Turning, her, I finally noticed her. Hidden among the cars behind me, she'd pulled up her skirt and yanked down her panties, and squatted.

"Oh. So you were a tad more desperate than you indicated?" I grinned.

She peeked over and struck her tongue out at me before flashing a mischievous grin as a huge puddle formed under her feet. "Yeah. I thought I'd make it all the way to the pub, but..."

"Yeah, well, it's clear you didn't." I commented, stepping aside to avoid the fast-producing river sweeping towards the nearby drain. She grinned at me as she pounced a couple of times, then, in a sudden movement, raised her panties and tights back up, and then stood up, adjusting her skirt.

She giggled. "Better!" She let out a prolonged sigh, then walked towards me and gave me a kiss.

"Tam, were you truly trying to hold it the entire way to the pub?"

"Yeah, maybe so." She grinned and pecked me on the lips.

"Have you managed to keep holding it?"

"I guess so...possibly...maybe no?" She flashed me a cutesy smile, sticking out her tongue halfway and grinning while I melted. Her proximity was making my legs gelatinous. She wiggled herself free and grabbed her coffee from the floor near her approaching puddle, close to the wheel. Then, between sips of her warm coffee and my hand roaming her thigh, we managed to get back into the car under the setting sun. We were driving to a gorgeous old pub set on the hillside, surrounded by a green fieldview. There was a weathered footpath sign indicating a path leading to a field in front. The perfect place to go for a stroll.

"Shall we go inside?" Tamara smiled, crossing her legs and then jiggling slightly. The sway of her breasts inside her bra caught my eye, and her expression told a story. My eyes drifted away, then I focused on Tamara and her worsening position.

As we approached the bar, we had to wait for the server to finish serving drinks before we could get our room keys. I considered briefly using the restroom before heading up the stairs, but I would have to return to retrieve our belongings.

A rustic wooden staircase led up to our room. Each step creaked slightly as we ascended, adding to the charm of the old-fashioned pub.

Tamara went up first, her eyes glued to the barmaid; I secretly admired the behind view of her flushed skin and soggy skirt as she chatted with the server. I hoped to catch a glimpse of a freshly wet patch on her skirt, but couldn't confirm anything as she seemed to be fully engaged in conversation.

Entering our recently upgraded room, the walls were bright and clean compared to the dim, old pub downstairs. A generous, elegant double bed sat in front of a huge window with a view of the picturesque countryside.

We exchanged pleasantries with the barmaid and begged her to leave us alone so we could fully enjoy the splendid room for the next two nights. My bladder begged for relief after the morning coffee.

When the door shut behind the barmaid, we breathed a sigh of relief.

"Would you like to use the restroom first?" I offered, indicating the door.

Tamara chuckled and rested her hand on my cheek. "I'm fine," she murmured, catching me off-guard with a deep, slow kiss. "You can go first, if you wish."

I decided against the idea of rushing back down for another round of drinks. As I left the door ajar, I felt a sense of betrayal at the lack of fuss, missing the pocketful of fanticism that usually accompanied these moments.

Despite my relief, I could not share the emotions as I rushed to the toilet. The sudden call of nature was enough to distract me from any thoughts of frustration. Once finished, I fled to the sink to wash my hands before turning my attention to Tamara, whose panties now had a large dark patch.

I cautiously approached and spotted her sitting on the edge of the bed, her work clothes strewn across the floor. She was in black lingerie, her grey panties already dampened.

"Are you okay?" I asked in concern.

"Yes, I'm fine," she smiled, suppressing a laugh while shifting uncomfortably. "I was planning to take a shower while you were in the bathroom."

Her legs were squeezed together as if to resist the tide of relief, and she wiggled her way to the entrance of the tiny ensuite, adjusting herself as she went.

"Would you like to watch?" she teased, stripping off her blouse and skirt with a burst of energy. Her vibrant thighs rubbed together effortlessly. From the bathroom, I could detect the faint shimmers of her panties, darkened by her pee.

Bracing herself, she waddled her way into the shower cubicle, closing the doors reluctantly. She paused and locked eyes with me, her secret escape revealed.

The room was small but practical, containing a toilet, sink and a spacious cubicle big enough for two. It felt almost medieval, with one large shared bathroom for the entire pub.

In the bathroom, I watched closely as the dampness between her legs spread rapidly. Despite being comfortable, I could smell the sweet scent of her sweat, perfume, and the unmistakable aroma of her pee. Tamara grinned after her unsuccessful attempt to hide, and thebegan to wiggle across the room as if leaving a trail of pee behind her.

I stared at her menacingly, her frame contorting as she fought to hold it in. As she stood under the shower, she increased her squeeze, but her body betrayed her as she dribbled. "I can't help but envision you watching me in awe," she moaned desperately.

At this point, I crossed my arms, slightly intimidated by the helpless situation unfolding. The entire room smelled of sweat and fear, and her nipples poked through her bra. Pulling her blouse and skirt further apart, her wicker-dry, drenched panties revealed fresh yellow stains trickling down her thighs. The bathroom itself was minuscule, but we managed to fit in the toilet, sink, and shower cubicle.

This scene was surreal, with the room blending old and new. I stifled my laughter as she squirmed in the shower, her palms desperate to keep the drought at bay, her body resisting every attempt at holding back the yellow rivulets. Eventually, she reached out to turn off the shower and jumped out, her wetness dripping to the floor.

She stepped out the shower but remained visible through the tiny clear doors. I couldn't take my eyes off her, admiring the damp spotting on her panties and damp figure. With a naughty grin, she stepped back into the cubicle, locking the doors behind her to keep her secret from view.

"Get closer," she instructed. Her hand was once more wedged between her legs. I set aside the desire for a frosty beer for now. I followed her command. Her nipples were solid against her flimsy summery bra. Both of us were clearly aroused.

"Oh God!" She cried out as she removed her hand and held my arms. The loud splashing and odor of warm urine filled the air. "Oh God. That feels so good." She closed her eyes for the next 30 seconds as we stood close to each other, allowing the urine to flow directly through her panties onto the plastic tray beneath. I couldn't resist. My fingers moved forward and touched both her and the warm, wet fluid streaming from her body. However, it didn't take long for the flow to slow to a sluggish dribble. I couldn't help but slide my fingers against the wetness. She moaned, her tongue locking with mine as she passionately kissed me.

Her smile was wide as I was now throbbing erect and hard. My heart pounded, listening to the steady drips from her crotch hitting the plastic tray below.

I unlatched my fly, and my hardened cock emerged through my underwear. She smiled at me and extended her hand, skillfully tucking it back in. "No, later, baby."

"What?" I really needed to cum.

"First, I need a shower!" Tamara grinned and shook her hips. She rummaged through the elastic and, as she stretched the material, more yellow droplets hit the plastic tray before she tossed her dripping, heavy panties into the shower. She kissed me on the lips and then sent me away. After that, she handed me her white bra. She was indeed going to take a shower. I wasn't invited.

As the water started, I sat on the bed, gently stroking myself while watching TV before leaving myself alone and focusing on my phone.

Tamara was there, looking fresh with her hair washed and a hint of makeup. Wearing a nice denim skirt and a fitted red top with no straps. We were going for a hike tomorrow. But tonight, she looked quite pretty. The atmosphere in the pub was warm and friendly, and the service was attentive.

The first beer I ordered quickly disappeared. A long drive, and I was enjoying myself. The food also tasted fantastic, with rather large portions. I enjoyed the steak and ale pie with a mountain of garlic mashed potatoes, and Tamara had the hunter's chicken with chips and a side salad along with a large glass of chardonnay.

Tamara was good. We'd decided not to sully the pub's coziness with our raunchy shenanigans. It was a family-run establishment, so I wasn't disappointed when she smiled, finished her wine, and left. I was gentlemanly and ordered us another drink each. When she returned, we took turns, and I went to the bathroom.

Tonight, we won't have dessert. Maybe we'll have one tomorrow after the hike. That'll be something to anticipate. I didn't object. The main courses were nearly empty when she proposed skipping dessert and eating one after the hike. I agreed, and we finished our drinks.

It was now dark; the sun had set. Tamara then suggested we go outside to look at the stars. There were no streetlights, so it should be a breathtaking sight. With no other plans except hoping for fervent sex and a good night's sleep, I obliged. We sat there, looking Romantically at each other, and finished our drinks.

Outside, it was cool but quiet. I slightly regretted not putting a jacket on, but Tamara's body warmth quickly warmed me up. Looking up into the cloudless sky, the stars were mesmerizingly bright.

Snugly with my arms around Tamara, we walked around the side of the pub and got comfortable on a small patch of grass next to a bench.

We lay down and snuggled up. It seemed like minutes passed but could have been hours. We were contentedly hugging and watching each other, holding hands, and gazing at the stars. The sky was enchantingly bright with stars. It was our first night away and it was absolutely blissful. Perfect food and girlfriend. What more could a guy ask for?

"Ben, this is amazing." Tamara cheerfully announced after another passionate kiss.

"It is!" I asserted, squeezing her hand.

"What would make it even better for you?"

I chuckled. "I'm not sure, sweetheart. You've done so much!" I squeezed her hand tighter, feeling the warmth of love.

"What do you think about this?"

"What?"

"This." She then took my hand and, with a breath in, slid it underneath the hem of her skirt and past her belly button. She gasped as my cold fingers touched her exposed, warm skin. She let go before I slowly moved my hand, allowing my fingers to reach her moist panties.

"Wow, Tamara, when will this happen?" I couldn't help but smile as I rubbed her extremely wet and moist vagina. She moaned quietly in ecstasy. She felt so warm and wet.

"I know you like me wet, and I like being wet too. You see, I didn't take my skirt off in the bathroom. I just pulled it down, then sat and peed through them," she grinned mischievously in the moonlight.

"What? Wow, Tamara, you are incredible." All I wanted to do was kiss her deeply, and my fingers pressed harder into her, pushing the wet fabric even further into her.

"Be careful," she moaned again. "Oh, yes, please, yes...oh no...don't push so hard. Yes...ohhh, it's too late. Watch out!" She then groaned as I kept my fingers strongly pressed against the wet cotton. I was shocked to feel the initial trickle, followed by warm, wet waves flowing onto my fingers. There was a noticeable sound of splattering as the urine dripped off my hand and hit the back of her skirt or the grass.

"You're just simply incredible, Tamara Whitestone." I exclaimed in awe, as she continued lying on the ground. I enjoyed each second as she wet herself.

Before long, she had finished. Instead of rushing off to the bedroom, we relaxed, breathing slowly, and watching the stars together.

"Shall we have one final drink before going to bed?" I suggested, only hoping she would say no so we could jump straight into bed.

She smiled at me, "Sure. But you'll have to go to the bar. I'm quite soaked." She giggled, grinned, and kissed me once more.

Later, the sex in the shower was thrilling. While leaning against the wall, I felt her lips touch mine as she bounced over me and let go, emptying her latest bladder on my erect cock. As her lips touched mine, she slowly sat down on me, providing an unforgettable experience.

The extra drink and the anticipation was definitely worth it.

The breakfast left us satisfied, and we both went to the bathroom to ensure our room was presentable for returning later. Tamara's denim skirt, with a green grass stain as well as a large, darkened oval shape on the rear, was placed on the windowsill hoping to be dried by the sun. We managed to remove most of the grass that had stuck to it. Both pairs of her now yellowed-wet panties from yesterday were concealed in a plastic bag within her main bag. She considered whether to discard them instead of washing them.

Downstairs, people were preparing for the hike, donning khaki clothes and adventurous accessories. The smell of coconut-flavored sun cream filled the air. Roger, the pub owner, gleefully greeted us.

In search of the Tors, we walked hand in hand along the path, taking in the stunning scenery. It felt incredibly romantic as we strolled off into the true outdoors for a proper adventure.

Soon, we realized we were alone. The others had gone in different directions, and we were taking frequent breaks for hydration. We carried with us snacks and water bottles. After breakfast, I had asked the pub to make us sandwiches and provided bottles of water. With everyone else scattered across the moors, it was essential to have water.

As we continued, Tamara paused because her shoelace had come undone. She grumbled and retied it. I may have playfully smacked her with the map.

As we made our way to the top, the temperature increased, so we drank our water to lighten our bags. At the beginning of the hike, the pub had provided us with snacks and water bottles. We were enjoying the walk, and the excitement was building.

We witnessed breathtaking scenery during the entire hike. Our legs were growing weary, and we were wondering if it was time to head back. We were also in awe of the other hikers, all donning khaki clothes and boots, carrying rucksacks and walking poles. The pleasant aroma of sun cream wafted through the air.

We were at the thrilling point where we were completely alone on the moors. It was scorching hot, and we were parched from the hike.

When we got to the top, we were suddenly under a clear blue sky. The grass was a sight to behold - it was an intensely beautiful yellowish green. The views were simply stunning as we embarked on our journey toward the Tors.

"I have to tie my shoe," Tamara said, bending over. She then gave me a cheerful grin and tried to toss her hair. As she did so, she tripped on a jagged rock and caught her leg.

Fortunately, I was close enough to catch her when she stumbled forward. She giggled as I held her. Her cheek was right by my ear, and I could smell her freshly washed hair. She whispered sweetly, and the sound of her breath tickled my ear. "You're right, we need to head back."

We turned around and started our journey back down the hill. When we were back on the path, we walked swiftly, following the footprints of others.

"Tamara, I've a surprise for you!" I exclaimed. "See that tree? Stop there!" She followed my command, and I quickly bent down and revealed, "a bamboo flute!" She lit up with delight, but as she blew into it, it seemed I had a genuine bamboo flute.

"Let the flute inspire us to march back to the pub," Tamara instructed. "It's perfect." We laughed and continued marching forward, with Tamara leading the way, playing her new flute. It was a picture of contentment as we started the descent.

After around an hour of strolling, Tamara fulfilled her pledge. In the center of the trail, surrounded by only four uninterested ewes, she signaled me to halt.

I was well aware of what was coming, yet the thrill was still present. Surveying the area to ensure we were alone, she lowered her shorts and underwear. Shaking her bare buttocks at me.

I had assumed she would perform a squat or urinate while standing up, but instead, she wiggled her naked derriere at me and then led me in for a kiss. "I simply desired to bare all on the barren moor." She giggled and twirled around with her shorts around her knees before pulling them back up. What a tease!

At least I received a squeeze of her bare buttocks in public before they were hastily concealed again.

In tandem, we ascended from the valley floor, following a route that could have simply been a path frequented by sheep. Laboring forward, we went. We were silent with one another, not much to say. The lush grass contrasted with the radiant blue sky.

Our intended location for our picnic lunch was the summit of the Tor, a large, weathered granite peak with spectacular 360-degree views. It wasn't a mountain but rather a very large hill.

The climb was steep and exhausting. It was challenging trudging to the top while preoccupied with perspiration. Conversations centered on the view, how painful our legs were, and any other distraction from urination. Eventually, after two hours of hiking, we attained the summit and marveled at the landscape. Even despite the big breakfast, my stomach continued to rumble. Hence, we sat down and ate our sandwiches, still enjoying some sun but away from the wind. Happiness in our secluded area carved in the rock.

Despite the presence of others at the top, we felt as if we were alone.

Following the conclusion of our meal and most of our water, I proposed that I needed to urinate and would just venture into a crack to avoid the wind.

"I'll give you a hand." Tamara grinned as she carefully got onto all fours and then unfastened my fly and retrieved my penis. She teasingly kissed me and aided me by stroking my penis a few times, invigorating it. Absolutely not what I needed. A rigid penis in public.

I myself thanked her for her help with a kiss, then rose and moved to the side of the outcrop, exposing my semi-hard penis. While still looking at her over the rock, I began peeing. It was then I heard a gentle cough. I stopped. What the hell was happening?

Slowly turning my head and then gazing to my side, a little deeper into the crevice was a middle-aged woman who had commenced urinating. I hoped she wouldn't scream. This was quite awkward. I could observe Tamara or the other woman. Regardless, I required release. With a huff, she apologized and rushed away. At last, I was alone.

Tamara resorted to her usual game of teasing me. She didn't feel the urge to pee. I didn't push the issue. The anticipation and curiosity heightened. When would she do it?

With our gear repacked and a large sip of water, we continued our descent. Still headed towards the pub we were staying in. The days were still long, and there was plenty to explore.

All I could think about was a cool, delightful pint at a pub a few miles away. It was downhill for the most part, next to a river. Tamara instantly accepted the idea. There were several paths between the pubs to return for a shower before dinner.

As we strolled down the trail leading towards the valley, there were numerous twists and turns, yet I was aware it would eventually bring us to the pub. Then, abruptly, Tamara announced, "Oh gosh, my boot lace is undone again."

"Shall I be chivalrous?" I replied, smiling, as I began to prepare to kneel.

"Yes, yours have stayed tied." She laughed, leaning her left leg forwards. I couldn't help but admire her. Her pink socks poking through her newly purchased hiking boots. With her smooth, shaved legs. Glimpsing at her thigh-length shorts. She smiled at me, and I focused on tying her shoes. An unanticipated stream of water fell upon my hands.

As I raised my gaze, I saw the crotch of her green shorts dampening and streams of urine curling down both her legs.

"You could have..."

"Where would the enjoyment be in that?" Her grin faded as she sat cross-legged and finished urinating. Her casualness both embarrassing and arousing.

With our backpacks packed and a second gulp of water, we continued our descent. Alas, we were still heading away from the pub we were staying in.

"Are your socks going to be damp again?" I smirked as I ran my hands along her smooth wet legs all the way until my fingers disappeared inside her shorts.

"Oh no, we're in public!" Tamara sighed as the tip of my fingers brushed against the damp fabric of her panties.

"Oops...not sorry!" I laughed and continued rubbing my fingers into her wetness.

It was then that something warm and wet hit my fingers, and trickled down my arm. "Same here." She giggled and ran her hand through my hair. As I removed my fingers from her.

While kneeling on the ground, an urge came to me. I smiled at her, and then shook my head.

My gaze then drifted up her sparkling wet legs. The afternoon sunlight was shimmering on the moisture on her inner thigh. I couldn't help but enjoy the obviously darkened crotch. The smell of her fresh urine was overwhelming on my fingers. It was tasty and satisfying. I almost licked them and then her. I stopped myself, and wiped my hand dry on my shorts.

Before we went anywhere, I still had to remember to tie her shoe correctly.

We strolled through the sun-dried grass on an obvious path leading to the pub. Tamara was almost skipping with excitement. With an empty bladder and relishing the feeling of her wet panties, she felt like her feet were ten pounds lighter. She was practically running with adrenaline. It was hot, but I was still dehydrated. I was surprised at how quickly her shorts dried out. Most of her urine had flowed directly down her legs, leaving a perfect outline of her panties against the now dark green fabric around her buttocks. It could almost look like she had wet herself or gone wild swimming in her panties.

My hope that people would think that was dashed an hour later when we finally reached the pub. The warm air had done its job. She was nearly dry.

We were still many miles from the pub we were staying at, but it was our romantic trip. There was no rush to get home.

"Pint?" I asked as we scanned the area and finally found an outdoor table.

"Definitely!" She chortled as she saved a seat for us.

I left her to sit down and got the drinks in. Sitting outside in the sunshine had its pros and cons. You could enjoy the views and the heat, but also get smoked by other people's cigarettes drifting your way.

The chilly beer was a delight and refreshing. It didn't last long. Munching on a handful of crisps with it helped. I hadn't realized how hot I had gotten. We both decided on just one drink, although the idea of a second was incredibly tempting. Not that we were driving, but stumbling lost on the moors drunk was fun, but not a wise decision.

As for Tamara's lack of sensibility, she almost rushed to the bathroom before starting our trek back. Claiming confidently that it wasn't far back to our pub. "I'll be fine!"

Having experienced the map, I knew it was just a matter of time before she needed a pee again.

What made it even more thrilling was that she was guzzling her water bottle as we walked. It was smoother terrain underfoot as we made our way back along the base of the Tor. The afternoon heat hadn't really lessened. The sun was still high in the clear sky. We didn't have to climb the Tor to get back, we could circle around the far base, although it was a longer distance and harder on the now exhausted leg muscles.

As we hiked, I suggested to Tamara that after a shower, maybe a bottle of wine with dinner would encourage another wetting later. Tamara nodded, smiled, and squeezed my hand in agreement. "I'll try to be as wet as possible for you!" she grinned.

It was then that Tamara sped up, and I knew something was going to happen. After an hour of walking, she was almost yanking me along. Normally, I'm the one setting the pace and she's complaining about it. Not this time. She was marching at her own speed.

I grinned, knowing I just had to wait for her to show. My eyes kept darting down to her buttocks with anticipation. With each hurried step, there was a shadow. Was it pee? Wasn't it?

She just marched on, faster and faster.

I was sweating due to the increased pace.

Taking a deep breath, I examined her feet. Her left boot had come undone as well. The right one, which I had secured earlier, was still solid. I looked intently at Tamara's face, revealing a mischievous smile. As I knelt down, I noticed the hissing sound and the torrent of urine that flowed down her legs - I received a gentle spray from the jumping liquid on her knee.

The sun began to set behind her, casting a beautiful glow that framed her face. It was romantic, almost as if she had a halo around her head. I reached for my backpack and unzipped the top pocket. Then, looking at my excited girlfriend, I declared the unforgettable words:

"Tamara Whitestone, will you marry me?" I flashed a smile, hoping that I wasn't making the worst possible choice at that moment. She had just intentionally peed on herself. I watched her face as her eyes fixated on the ring I held up, comparing it to the World Cup trophy.

I could almost see her brainworking through her eyelashes. It almost looked like the famous "thinking" meme. For a brief instant, I thought she might respond with a scowl. But instead, her expression changed, and a single teardrop trailed down her cheek.

In one swift movement, she knelt before me and enthusically nodded her consent, eyes glimmering with emotion. We leaned in for a sultry, salty kiss. After breaking the embrace, I placed the ring gently on her finger.

We sat there in front of each other for an indeterminate amount of time. It was unclear what we should do next. I couldn't resist stroking her wet, squelching crotch. She uttered a delighted moan. Just as things were getting heated, she pushed me back.

"Later," she panted, providing a fair excuse. It was important not to appear too excited given the circumstances. We kissed once more and then rose to our feet. Taking a moment to brush off the excess grass clinging to our knees, we resumed our journey to the pub.

It was challenging not to constantly kiss each other as we approached the pub. We counted down the steps until we reached the safety of the building.

Luckily, she was almost dry by the time we arrived. The sight of her damp green jiggling buttocks and sparkling legs in the dim light was breathtaking. Her hand tucked the ring in her purse and admired the new adornment on her finger.

We decided to go all out and ordered a bottle of champagne with our dinner. She sat across from me in the dimly lit pub, staring adoringly at her hand - a proud smile spread across her face. I couldn't help but admire the two obvious wet stains on her green buttocks.

It felt like it took forever to reach the pub. Intermittently, we'd stop to kiss and make various squealy comments.

Upon arriving back at our room, we took turns alternating between cleaning the urine spots on our clothes. My concern for her well-being was overshadowed by the anticipation of the romantic evening to come.

In the shower together, I wrestled with my conscience. She stood trembling, allowing the urine to splash against me. It was difficult to hide my discomfort, but the urge to remove her wet panties forcibly was nearly unbearable.

The passionate love-making that ensued was intense, sensual, and undeniably tasty. Neither of us required foreplay as we were already prepared for climax.

After our shower and a quick change of clothes, we returned downstairs. The pub was buzzing with activity. It was thrilling for us to sit in the corner out of the way, learing the ring gleamed elegantly in the pub lights. We ordered our usual drinks and eagerly waited for the croud to thin as they vacated the room.

At the perfect moment, Tamara made her way through the remaining patrons, and she casually sat down where she had been minutes before. Her thighs slid around to get comfortable, but she forgot she was still wearing the urine-soaked panties from earlier. I couldn't help but pretend to be oblivious as I watched her trying repeatedly to readjust in her seat.

As she returned from the bathroom, and in front of a handful of patrons, she proudly wore her proudly damp panties. The wet, squelching wetwear we'd played with earlier was the perfect accompaniment to her new jewelry. It was a saucily intimate milestone we would treasure forever.

"Later" did indeed come, and without incident. We lived out the rest of the night in damp, drenched bliss.

As the night wore on, I found myself pondering how long it would take before the dampness in her skirt was evident. But now that the dining area was cleared, we were feeling quite exhausted - it had been a long, hot day of walking.

While gazing adoringly at her sparkling engagement ring, we couldn't stop yawning. The day's events - the walk, the fresh air, the beer, and the post-walk romp - were taking a toll on us. We considered ordering coffee, but it seemed that if we did, we would have never fallen asleep. Instead, we opted for one more round of pints and a large glass of white wine each.

We sat there finding it challenging to consume these drinks. The exertion was too much. I was sipping a nice local ale, while she was now on a large Chardonnay. Truth be told, we were too tired. However, we spent time discussing the walk, our relationship, and the excitement of her new engagement. A little game I played involved pretending to tie her shoelaces. The thought of her peeing beforehand would be forgotten by history.

At this pivotal moment, Tamara bit her lower lip and whispered in my ear, "Ben, I think we'll need to retire to our room soon." Her face contorted in a sultry smile with a hint of contemplation. I wished I could read her mind but she seemed to be taunting me.

"That's alright. I'm almost done," I smiled back, before taking a big gulp of my beer. The idea of more intimacy was thrilling. I was completely excited about the prospect of removing her wet panties. As long as I could stay awake, the fun could ensue.

Without warning, Tamara distracted me with her sexy banter. She leaned over the table, resting on her elbows, and whispered in my ear, "Ben, I'm, well...pissing myself." This completely blindsided me! It was almost as if she just sat there with her soaked panties and decided to let go. Her nipples were clearly visible through her top, a sign of her obvious arousal. I was unable to hear the sound of her urine spreading over the carpet below, as the cacophony of background chatter drowned it out.

All I really wanted to do was drop onto my knees and sneak a peek under the table. I longed to stroke her legs and wondered how big the puddle she was sitting in. Why not save the intimacy for our bedroom? There were so many unanswered questions. I grinned with delight, watching her red cheeks blush and her tongue poke out in mockery, then she took a gulp of wine. She savored the last of her glass, and I quickly requested the bill.

I did enjoy following her up the stairs this time. Every step caused the dampness in her panties to drip down onto her legs, leaving wet trails on both sides as we hurried up the stairs. She had apparently peed all over the living room, leaving most of the soaked area covered by her denim skirt.

Upon reaching the bedroom, I removed my trousers and helped her undress. Her legs were still wet, streaming urine with every step. It seemed that most of the pee had been contained on the carpet. The back of her blue skirt was now black, as it was soaked through.

Kissing passionately, I unbuttoned her shirt. The weight of the wet skirt hitting the floor was audible. I was already aroused, anticipating the unveiling of her wet panties. She was wet and eager. The tiredness I felt earlier seemed to have vanished. We kissed, I touched, and she sighed heavily as we headed toward the bed.

I stroked her warm, wet panties, feeling the heat through them, as our mouths and tongues locked together. With a long moan, she fell backwards, lying spread out on the bed. She groaned with each finger touch as I climbed on top.

"Fuck me, Ben," she gasped again as one of my fingers slipped off her panties and inside her.

"All right!" I replied with a smile, before kissing her again. Then, as I slid the panty elastic aside, I longed to feel the wetness against me.

***

Morning arrived with a bit of excitement. We sat at the same table where we had dined earlier, enjoying our breakfast of steaming coffee and a full English breakfast. No words were exchanged. Instead, the table was now home to mugs of coffee and a fried breakfast feast.

Yes

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We were feeling a little foggy-headed. The night before hadn't been the most restful. The excitement of mind-blowing sex and snuggling close together had been nothing short of magical. It felt like the perfect, weekend escape. I was coming to terms with the fact that I had left on Friday with a girlfriend and was returning home with a fiancée.

A cup of hot, strong coffee was like manna from heaven.

We showered, hoping it would help us wake up a bit. We knew we had a long drive ahead. Despite the lack of sleep, Tamara still looked stunning without makeup. She had her hair up in a ponytail, wore a baggy red T-shirt and black leggings.

She greedily drank the coffee, and we got a refill. It was a pleasure hanging out with her. I could almost taste the happiness written all over her face as she flashed me a sexy grin while munching on her fried sausage. With baked bean juice dribbling down her lips, she was now my hot, sexy fiancée. We agreed we'd have to come back to explore the moorland on the other side of the pub. There were countless more walks to take, more Tor tors to discover.

Regrettably, today, we had to return home. Checkout was at 11 A.M. There was no time to explore the moors this morning. If we'd woken up earlier, maybe we could've squeezed in a quick hike. But by the time we actually got up, it was too late.

This morning, the thrill for me came from straddling her on the toilet, as she sat on my legs, then grabbed my head and kissed me fervently, emptying her overnight bladder on my cock. It was far more stimulating than taking a walk. Wet and ready for more, we stepped into the shower together once more.

Walking out to the car with our luggage, I noticed Tamara had wrapped a blue hoodie around her waist. Considering it was a scorching hot, sunny day, I questioned her decision. It was almost ten thirty, and I was already breaking out in a sweat.

However, things became clearer as we took a final look around before driving off. She sat back in her seat, dreamily reflecting on wedding possibilities. My anxieties about the scope of celebrations began to grow when she mentioned her estranged friend was getting married in a castle. It was alarming to realize just how many friends and relatives we had. Plus, the numerous reciprocal wedding invitations we would need to issue. We'd attended a handful of weddings together recently.

It was then I noticed she began shifting uncomfortably on her chair. It seemed as if it was covered in pins. I contemplated whether we should pull over. But she moaned a bit, then smiled at me. It was then I recognized her clenching of the chair. I nodded approvingly, trying to maintain my attention on driving down the twisting, narrow roads.

Soon, we reached the motorway exit.

"Ben, let's stop for a coffee," she offered with a hand on mine. I found comfort in her gentle squeeze. It felt nice as her fingers tightened around mine. "But can we go home first?" she asked with a smile that turned the air sensual.

The End.

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