The Photo Shoot

Posted in: WaterSports

“Jacqui, will you please hold that screen straight?”, said Mark, “You’re jumping like a flea.” Jacqui had been on a photo shoot with Mark, the photographer and his latest talent, Julie, who was proving to be a handful.

No matter what pose Mark put her in, she couldn’t or wouldn’t stay put long enough to take the shot. The hot, humid Brisbane afternoon was moving on; as the tension grew, so did Mark’s stress levels, and now Jacqui wouldn’t hold the reflector screen steady. She was jigging around like a bug on a hot plate and every move she made changed the light levels just enough to disrupt things.

“I’m sorry Mark,” replied Jacqui, “I’m just edgy, that’s all.” She had only freed her left hand to flick a wisp of her dark hair out of her face, but that was nothing to the real source of her discomfort.

“What’s the matter with you, anyway. You gotta pee or something? Will you PLEASE hold that screen properly!”

Jacqui felt her face flush and her bladder tighten at the suggestion and before she could catch it, she felt warmth in her pussy as a spurt escaped her aching muscles. She felt the warmth spread slightly around her crotch and knew that she was dangerously close to making a wet spot in the crotch of her tight cut-offs. Perhaps she already had; with her thighs tightly pressed together to prevent further leakage, she may have already wet the insides of her pant-legs. She couldn’t risk a look without being obvious and besides, any move would have Mark in fits again, and could well be disastrous. Regaining enough control to risk it, she regained her pose with legs far apart braced against the weight of the heavy reflector in its metal frame.

It was amusing that Jacqui should now be worried about pissing herself in public when she had practically been planning this all along. She was no stranger to peeing down the legs of her jeans in car parks; the fourth and last time just two nights ago, after some late-night shopping, standing there behind her open door, almost getting caught before getting in and driving home. And she had never bothered to count the number of times she had peed her knickers sitting on the toilet in the privacy of her home. She did it practically every day, and it had become her favorite turn-on and pastime.

Lately, though, Jacqui had been feeling a curious mixture of guilt and excitement at the curious turn of her thoughts to the possibility of being much more blatant about it. Today was the result of a plan that had been hatching since that time two nights ago when she was caught in the act by a passing woman who happened upon her with a step so quiet Jacqui didn’t even know she was approaching until suddenly, there she was, looking straight at her from the sidewalk. Jacqui didn’t know whether there was enough light for the woman to see what she was doing but the half-smile on the woman’s face as her step slowed suggested she knew exactly what was going on. As the woman passed by, Jacqui become intensely aware of the urine dripping from the legs of her jeans and the sound of it splashing on the pavement, intrigued yet again at the absolute silence of her pee in the crotch of her knickers – not at all like the hiss she heard when she peed forcibly through her panties first thing in the morning.

“Jacqui, will you wake up!” yelled Mark, startling her out of her reverie, and drawing yet another squirt past her cramping pelvic floor muscles, re-warming the inside of her pussy. By now she was becoming desperate and just couldn’t stand still, no matter how hard she tried.

“I’m sorry Mark. It’s just that this shoot is going on for so long, and, well, you know, when a girl’s gotta go…”

“Yeh,” said the model, Julie. “I gotta go, too. You want me to ruin this outfit?”

“I don’t care what you do to the outfit,” yelled Mark, “its just cheap garbage. Just don’t ruin it until I get my shots OK?”

“You and your shots.” Julie said. “Come on, hurry up and take them. I’m bursting.”

“I would if you’d just stand still long enough. That’s the worst thing about photography as an art form. It relies too much on the subject. I should have been a painter!”

As she half-listened to the other two, distracted by the pleasant pain in her lower belly and wishing she could either stand with her legs crossed, free a hand and stick it in her crotch or just simply let go and soak herself, Jacqui noticed a guy standing off to one side, watching the shoot. He had been there for some time, she now realized, and was watching the proceedings intensely. He was now staring straight at Jacqui.

Lloyd had been driving along the road at the top of the Kangaroo Point cliffs, when he caught sight of the photo shoot in progress. As he passed, he observed a girl in faded cut-offs and a light blue sleeveless top with long dark hair holding a large round white reflector screen, and a guy in jeans with a camera. They were both looking towards another girl in a flared calf-length light gray summer dress leaning against the retaining wall. She stood with her back to the sun against the backdrop of the city across the river behind her.

Something about the one in the cut-offs made Lloyd stop nearby and get out of the car. He strolled back towards the shoot staying as inconspicuous as possible, not wanting to disturb the people in their work. Lloyd skirted around them at a distance and moved to a conveniently placed picnic bench where he could get a better view of the girl with the reflector. As he arrived, Lloyd heard “I’m sorry Mark, I’m just edgy, that’s all.” from the one with the reflector as she flicked the wisp of hair from her face with her left hand and quickly replaced it on the frame of the reflector. It was apparent from the uneasy way she was standing that she was indeed “edgy”, or more specifically, near the edge. Lloyd watched as Jacqui stood looking very uncomfortable with her thighs pressed together and her knees very slightly bent in an obvious stance of extreme need.

The photographer said something and Jacqui seemed to blush as she bent her knees a little more, apparently desperate. After a few moments, Jacqui seemed to regain her composure and lifted the awkward and heavy-looking reflector into place, spreading her feet to for balance. As she did so, Lloyd noticed her shape in the tight shorts, the way the crotch seam cut slightly into her pussy and the slight darkening of that seam where it curved in between her parted legs.

Jacqui stood daydreaming, neglecting the reflector which, blown by the slight breeze, angled away from the subject. Mark was saying something to Jacqui, to which she was oblivious, as she also was to her observer. Suddenly, Mark yelled at her “Jacqui, will you wake up!”, obviously startling her. She gave out a little yelp and lifted her left foot off the ground, pressing her thighs together once more, then putting it down again and repeating the process with her right foot.

There ensued a series of short comments from all three including the model that generally appeared annoyed, as was the photographer. As Lloyd listened to the interplay between these two, he caught Jacqui looking at him with an expression of a mixture of excitement, interest and intrigue.

As Jacqui watched the watcher, her plan crystallized into the knowledge that this man was going to be the first total stranger to see her piss her pants. The thought turned her on and made her more daring. Turning her attention back to the task at hand, she said to Mark, “I agree with Julie. You should be more considerate. All you care about is your photography.”

“There are some things that are important enough to sacrifice a little personal comfort.” said Mark. “Don’t you think I’d like to do something else, too?

But the conditions are perfect for what we need and we have to finish it. Just hold on, you two. Just another hour, I promise.”

“An hour!” exclaimed Julie. “I can’t last another hour. I’ll be flat out lasting ten minutes!”

“I can’t either, Mark,” said Jacqui. “I’ve gotta go right now.”

Lloyd watched from his vantage point as Jacqui glanced over at him again, as if to check he was still there. Mark was completely ignoring the two women, now, and proceeded to instruct Julie on her pose while she continued to complain.

Standing there, readying herself for what was about to happen, Jacqui felt the pressure in her lower belly then felt it increase as she concentrated on peeing and very carefully released a little of her pee into the already damp crotch of her knickers. She felt the warmth pass through her pussy and spread around it between her legs. “Mark,” she said, glancing sideways at Lloyd, “I’m going to piss my pants in a minute. I can’t hold it any longer.”

“I don’t care what you do,” said Mark, his eye fixed to the eyepiece of his camera, “as long as you hold that reflector steady.”

“Oh, great,” said Julie, “what if it was me that was going to piss myself?!”

“I told you before,” said Mark, “just don’t ruin the outfit before I get my shots.”

Jacqui stood holding the reflector dutifully while she concentrated on slowly releasing her control and felt the slight pop of her urine as it passed the opening of her urethra. It parted the lips of her pussy, filling her sex as the pressure of her tight cut-off jean shorts forced it back inside momentarily, only a small amount escaping to soak through the crotch of her knickers and into her pants. Then as the pressure built, she felt her urine spread inside her knickers and start to soak down her legs.

Still partially controlling her leakage, Jacqui announced “Oh no, I’m doing it. I’m pissing my pants, Mark!”

“Look, if you’re going to do it, just do it, OK?”, said Mark.

Lloyd heard all of this and watched Jacqui as she glanced at him yet again, looked back at Mark, then closed her eyes, and let loose a torrent into her pants. Lloyd saw the slight stain in Jacqui’s crotch begin to spread sideways. She appeared not to be trying to exercise the slightest control over what was happening, and as the urine reached the bottom of her cut-offs and started to trickle to the ground or down her legs, Lloyd heard her sigh softly and her expression changed to one of bliss.

Jacqui was in heaven. She peed into the crotch of her knickers and felt it deflected by the thick fabric of her tight shorts, widening the area through which her urine soaked into her pants. As the flow increased, she felt her bladder contract in reflex and she bore down almost involuntarily to push her urine out faster, standing with her legs apart, knees bent and emitting small noises, “ah… ah…. ahhh….”. She was so taken with the pleasure of peeing in her pants that Jacqui dropped the reflector again, causing Mark to resume chastising her, but he stopped suddenly when he saw what was happening.

Julie, following Mark’s gaze to the exhibition being played out by Jacqui, and in need of relief herself, started to lose control, as well. “Jacqui,” she cried, “what are you doing?” (Julie was a model because of her looks, not her intelligence!) She stood gaping at the sight of Jacqui forcefully peeing through her pants and down both legs, unconsciously holding herself through her dress. The sight of Jacqui wantonly pissing her pants turned on Julie. She started to rub her aching pussy through the thin material of her dress and the double thickness of the crotch of her white cotton knickers. As her passion increased, so did the pleasure centered in her bladder and she was totally oblivious to the consequences when the first warmth soaked her fingers and started to drip down the front of her dress and to the ground.

Seeing Julie masturbating and pissing through the front of her dress, Julie put both hands to her crotch and stretched the denim tight against the crotch of her knickers, forcing the hard stream of urine out through the thick material and increasing the pressure and the pleasure. Julie saw this and, with both hands, pulled the material of her dress taut against her drenched panty-clad crotch, a hand on either side of the growing stream as it erupted perpendicularly from the material. Mark was frantic, now, and screaming at Julie to stop, but both girls just ignored him and the stares of passing motorists, lost in their shared world of urinary pleasure.

As the girls’ flow trickled to a stop and they both continued to rub themselves while playing with their wetness and puddles and laughing about what they had done, Mark packed up in disgust, and departed, leaving Lloyd to look after the two newest wet girls in his life…

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  1. Anonymous

    people actually DO that!!! wow! i don’t find it arousing, but it was amazingly well written, it gives you a new viewpoint. good job!!!

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