A couple of weeks had passed since the party when Laura met her best friend for lunch. As they chatted, she unsuccessfully tried to think of a way to ask about the neighbour. The evening continually replayed itself in her head, and she wondered what he might be thinking -- both then and now. She also wondered what he would think if he knew the effect it had had on her, if he knew the "peeing girl" now masturbated herself to sleep each night thinking about it. Most likely, he would run a mile, she thought to herself with a wry smile. Only she could manage to eroticise something like this!
Her friend's voice interrupted her reverie, asking if she was ok and explaining that her lunch break was over, so she needed to get back to work. She also mentioned she was having drinks at her place the following week and asked if Laura could make it. Laura dragged her mind back to the present, apologised for drifting off, and replied she would love to come. They both returned to work but Laura couldn't focus -- now visualising him masturbating his huge cock while watching her pee. Soon, Laura was off to the ladies' room for some relief.
As the drinks night approached, Laura found herself unable to stop thinking about the neighbour. She hadn't managed to find a way to ask her friend about him, but hopefully, there'd be a chance on the night. In the meantime, it was her usual routine: work hard all day, return home late, quick meal, bed, masturbation, sleep, wake up, masturbation, shower, breakfast and off to work. Rinse and repeat. Yet, beneath this routine, she began to wonder if the incident had changed her somehow -- if something she hadn't known about herself had emerged, something she couldn't suppress or put back. She realised she'd stopped thinking about dating, even about the hot barista at the coffee shop she'd fancied for ages. She wondered how she could resume normal life, meet someone nice, start a relationship, and hopefully have some amazing sex -- when all the while, she was obsessing about the incident.
The drinks night arrived, and Laura left work a little early to go home and get ready. She paid extra attention to her appearance -- showering, shaving her legs and pussy, doing her nails and toes, and applying makeup. She slipped on a simple, casual but figure-hugging black dress. To complement it, she chose black pantyhose and her favourite black heels, open at the sides and the toes, which she thought highlighted her feet nicely. Laura generally liked wearing pantyhose, unlike some of her friends who complained they were scratchy, hot, and restrictive. She always bought better-quality brands, as they were silky smooth, and with the right denier for the weather, felt lovely on her legs and around her butt and pussy -- especially when worn without panties. It didn't hurt that some of the men at work seemed to admire her legs more when she wore them.
One day, she thought she caught one of her team members staring at her feet. She'd read about foot fetishes and was curious to test her theory. She slipped off her heels and padded over to his workstation. Standing next to him, she asked how he was progressing with the tasks she'd assigned. From her vantage point, she couldn't see his eyes, but he seemed to be struggling to focus on his screen. Subtly, she rubbed one foot against the other, scrunching her toes together, and noticed his concentration falter further. For the final test, she "accidentally" dropped her pen and apologised. He replied that it wasn't a problem and eagerly ducked under the desk to retrieve it. He reappeared a moment later -- longer than seemed necessary -- with her pen in hand and a faint blush on his face. She smiled, thanked him for the pen and the update, and walked back to her desk, her smile broadening. Confirmed!
From that moment on, whenever she needed an update or he sought some advice she'd take her shoes off, pad over to his workstation, and repeat the gestures. Over time, he grew better at balancing his focus on both the screen and her feet while still staying coherent. As a bonus, he also seemed more enthusiastic to complete the work she assigned. Though he wasn't her type, she could imagine how nice it might be if a future boyfriend liked her feet -- massages after a day in heels, free pedicures, and sweet gestures like having her feet kissed, as long as she could handle the ticklishness.
Pulling herself back to the present, Laura remembered the stocking and suspenders she'd bought for herself a while back but only ever worn once. She slid each stocking on, lifted her dress to fasten the suspender belt, and slipped on her heels. Looking in the mirror, she liked what she saw. The dress flattered her figure, the stockings felt warm, silky, and smooth against her legs, and the suspender belt allowed air to her sex and butt -- a feeling of exposure that she enjoyed. She briefly contemplated skipping panties altogether, but knew she couldn't trust her pussy not to leave a wet patch on her friend's furniture. While she was pleased with the effort made and the result, she couldn't help but feel a little foolish, as there was no obvious way to see him again, except perhaps to knock on his door and say, "Hi, I'm the peeing girl, can I come in?" She shook her head with a wry smile. Clearly, that was not going to happen.
Laura felt a wave of nervousness as she arrived at her friend's house. However, comments on how nice she looked, and on how quickly she'd drank that first glass of wine, soon put her at ease. She began to enjoy the evening, managing to clear her mind of thoughts of the neighbour -- at least for a while. As darkness fell, her thoughts drifted back to the incident and to him. Without a clear plan, she made an excuse about needing some fresh air and stepped out into the garden.
It was another warm, dark night, and the sight of the bushes made her heart race. Nervously, she approached, retracing her steps from the previous night. There was the low fence again. Would it be wrong or foolish to step over it? Almost certainly, yes. But she felt inexplicably drawn to it. Perhaps the wine had made her a little braver, or maybe it was the adrenalin that sent a tingle of anticipation through her, finally settling as a growing tension between her legs. She often worried that her pussy would get her into trouble one day, and it was starting to feel like that could be today. Still, another part of her thought that confronting what had happened might help clear it from her head. As she stood there, she thought again about the neighbour -what he might think of the peeing girl's return, and about kindness she'd heard in his voice that night.
The neighbour's garden looked just as empty as it had two weeks before, but he could easily be sitting silently in the dark again. Taking a deep breath, Laura lifted her dress, stepped over the fence, and softly called, "Hello?" There was no reply. She glanced around, but the darkness made it hard to see much of anything. Louder this time, she tried again, "Hello?". Still nothing.
Laura's thoughts were a whirlwind of uncertainty, but one thing was clear -- she wanted him to watch her again. That thought sent a rush of heat through her body, and the tension between her legs bloomed into an ache that demanded resolution. Taking another deep breath, she turned to face the fence, lifted her dress to her waist and slid her panties down to the ground. She spread her legs slightly and bent over, resting her forehead on her arm, which was propped against the fence. The warm night air caressed her exposed skin, sending shivers down her spine as it brushed against her butt and already swollen pussy Reaching down between her leg, she found herself already wet and swollen. She wasn't entirely sure whether she was hoping he was there or hoping he wasn't, but right now the only thing she could focus on was easing the aching building inside her.
Her fingers circled her clitoris, too sensitive to touch just yet, and down to her opening, dipping in and drawing the wetness back to her clit. Now it could be touched she quickened her pace, circling, pressing, gently rubbing, then probing inside. As she was getting closer she could help but let out a short gasp each breath, it was hard to be quiet but she had to try. She could feel her orgasm start to build but the situation felt so incredible she wanted to make it last and to intensify her orgasm, so she reluctantly slowed her pace.
She looked down at herself, heels, stockings, no panties and her hand rapidly working her sex. Not for the first time she wondered what might be wrong with her. But she was committed now and she quickened then slowed her pace twice more until it became a desperate need, then braced her legs tightened her stomach as felt her orgasm commence. The intensity of the first wave was almost overwhelming as her knees buckled and she gushed more than she could ever remember, then another wave, another gush, then another and another. She lost track of how many before their intensity started to diminish, and she sank to her knees on the grass breathing heavily and trying to regain her breath.
After a few seconds, post-orgasmic reality set in. Laura picked up her panties, soaked from her squirt, and looked at them with a mix of disgust and shame. Not for the first time, she wondered why she was like this. Suppressing a half-sob, she dearly wished she was more like her friends -- normal, uncomplicated. She was about to get up and pull herself together when a low, familiar and kind voice emerged from the darkness.
