Big City

Robert and I went to London once, and here’s what happened–
Uxbridge is some way from the center of London but it’s on an underground line. When we stopped the boat there, it was convenient to have a day out in the big city. My ‘social education’ started when Robert began to show me how I could dress to make better use of what he calls “my graces.” Then he forced me to meet all sorts of people who cruise around the canals. One of these was a professor in a London University college. We had decided to go to see him and his wife at their home in Muswell Hill.
As they are an eccentric couple, Robert suggested that dressing too elaborately might be unwise since you never knew what they would have arranged for the day’s entertainment. I chose my short loose skirt and favorite pink panties with white roll neck jumper and a tweedy jacket. Though I say it myself, the flowery skirt is just the right length to make my thick legs look sturdy, rather than fat. Shoes that you can easily walk in are always a good idea when going out with Robert because he thinks nothing of a four–mile detour to see something he thinks will be interesting.
Saturday morning we debated whether to do our normal ‘hold it’ before setting off to Muswell Hill. Long train journeys made us decide to give it a miss. Suburban London seemed so big to me coming from a little town where you can walk across it in half an hour. Everything was new and exciting. Tall blocks in the distance, huge motorways, bridges, red buses, and eventually famous places in the city center had me all agog.
Another train took us to a place near Muswell Hill and then we walked through a park before finding the road we wanted. The professor, Roddy, met us at the door wearing a kimono; his wife apologized for his attire but appeared equally odd as she was wrapped in what looked like an enormous floral sheet. They sat us down and plied us with tea and little buns while telling about their holiday in the Caribbean.
So far so good, nothing seemed too strange. Roddy went on to tell us that the island they had stayed on was particularly popular with naturists. He and Sheila, his wife had found out how delightful it is to go without clothes. Robert, being far too broad–minded for my sheltered background, encouraged them to describe the details of their enjoyment. One thing led to another until I was sure what would happen soon. “Why don’t we all spend the day in the buff so you can share the pleasure we found?” was how Roddy introduced the next part of our day out.
To say I was nervous is an understatement. I’ve told you before that I’m not comfortable with my shape and having recently gained a bit of confidence in how to mask it with carefully chosen clothing, I was not keen to throw them all off. Robert is quite sensitive to my feelings so he delayed the event by asking a few more details of how they intended to pursue the day.
Enthusiastically Roddy said we should take a glass or two of his home made parsnip wine to help us to get used to nudity and then go out and play a few rounds of croquet on his lawn. Sniggering he said he had long wanted to offend his nosy neighbors and this was an ideal opportunity. Afterwards he proposed to sit out on the terrace and treat us to a salad made up of all wild plants that he had grown with some slices of cold roast and whole meal bread of his own baking.
In a moment Robert would look towards me to see if I was willing to join such a scheme. That would put me on the spot. I could hardly say, “You go ahead but I won’t join you.” All I could think of was to delay the decision a while and when the inevitable question came, I asked if we could give it a little thought while trying the wine.
Roddy seemed pleased, as though this meant full acceptance of his plan. He threw off his kimono to reveal his grey–haired knotty 60–year–old body and toddled off to fetch the wine. Shaking her head Sheila looked after him as if he were an awkward child saying, “Sorry dears, but I better keep him company.” With that she unhitched the sheet and tossed it over the back of an armchair.
Sheila is far from the prime of youth but I was interested to see that her body did not look as old as her face. She showed no worry about our glances, meeting them quite frankly, saying “There’s no point bothering yourself over what you can’t do much about,” then she twirled around like a catwalk model, scratched under a breast and grinned, “It still keeps the randy old bugger amused.”
I knew from that moment that I was going to have to go through with this. While they were both out of the room Robert reached over and took my hand saying “In this company you’d be the belle of the ball even if you weighed 15 stone and looked like Frankenstein. I’m going to join them if you’ll agree. I promise I won’t let them persuade you to go out to the shops with them.”
“They wouldn’t do that would they?”
“I wouldn’t put anything past them. Just resign yourself to giving the old bat next door a bit of a turn and we should be out of here by 5 this afternoon with nothing more than another bucket full of giggles.”
“Oh well” I sighed, wondering how my respectable folks would view such goings on; they could be exactly like the neighbors.
In any event, when the wine came along we offered to disrobe which our hosts loudly applauded. Roddy seemed completely unaware of the picture he made bowing slightly to me and saying, “Can I take your clothing my lady?”
It wasn’t too bad after the first few minutes and the wine soon set the conversation going. I might add that Roddy had produced a plonk with the power of a steam hammer, ferociously sweet, not at all the sort of quality to appeal to a wine connoisseur. Didn’t matter, as there were none in the room.
Croquet in the nude with a secretive audience hidden behind net curtains turned out to be a huge joke. The strong wine provoked a thirst and Sheila, having reached the peg went in to prepare the salad, returning moments later with a jug of flavored water, of which I must have drunk three glasses. Robert showed a wicked side to his nature, which I had never known about, but they told me that croquet brings out the worst in the best of us. I even surprised myself, driving Roddy to the gutter when he was within a stroke of the last hoop.
By the time they turned on the one o’clock news, I had lost all sense of nudity being unusual. Something else I had lost was the automatic message system that says you need to pee.
Along with the salad came another new beverage. Pimms– it is a pretty pink, slightly sweet, very refreshing beverage. I don’t know what it’s made of but I could drink it in quarts if it is offered.
Salad made with Rocket, Dandelion, Chickweed, and Watercress may not be everyone’s choice but I’ll say that if you could have tasted it with Roddy’s bread you would come back for more which is what I did. The cold roast in small slices was also very tasty and when Robert asked what it was Sheila replied matter of factly, “Hotchywitchy.” I assumed that it must be a delicacy brought back from the Caribbean and didn’t make any further enquiries.
With such a green and healthy first course it was amazing that Sheila brought out a huge, cold, bread pudding. “Good London staple, tuck in,” said Roddy; whereupon he went back to the house and brought a huge teapot with four pint–sized mugs. “We’ll spend the afternoon hearing about what you two have been up to,” he said settling into his deck chair. Then he did something most unprofessor–like. He looked directly at his neighbor’s back room window, scratched his bare crotch and belched loudly.
I must admit I laughed for I saw the curtains fall hastily back into place. Robert had seen it too and said, “Those people must be perverts– they have been watching us for a couple of hours by now.” Ignoring the watchers we went on to tell where we’d been but that didn’t satisfy Roddy. He wanted to know what we did. “You two have some little secret, I can tell. It’s something that holds you both, something you have in common. It’s something like our naturism.” At this point I felt just a bit anxious. It’s all right telling our stories on the net but quite another telling them face–to–face.
It was unexpectedly Sheila who broke through our reserve. As if she were suddenly called on to give an account of her younger days she turned to Roddy and dug him in the ribs. “Remember how you told me to pee on that cocoa tin in 1947, telling me it was an unexploded bomb from the war? Ah, but we were only children then, but it was fun all the same.” Then she looked straight at me saying, “Am I about right?”
Hesitating, hoping Robert would take over, I looked towards him but Sheila said “No you tell us dear, it means more to you doesn’t it?”
Bit by bit I told them how we had first met and the dreadful sequence of events that led to me pissing on Robert. Then they wheedled out of me some of the stories of our adventures. Being the center of attention was a novel feeling and it must have taken an hour or more before they were satisfied. Such a relaxing afternoon with no worries, kindly company, pleasant sunshine and the twitter of birds, it made for one of my most pleasant memories.
Putting on our clothes to prepare for the journey home brought me back to reality and the need to pee. A quick visit to the bathroom and we were on our way.
Three things transpired on the train. First, Robert told me that the delicious ‘Hotchywitchy’ was roasted hedgehog. Roddy had been mortified to knock the poor thing down the previous day when driving back from dog walking. Loath to waste it, he retrieved it and served it up to us.
Next I learned that three of the contents of our salad are effective diuretics. I learned that when I could not grasp why I needed the toilet so soon after just having used one. Robert smiled and said that it could be an interesting trip back if we didn’t make a stop somewhere. The third thing I learned was that London is unsympathetic if the bladder calls for immediate attention. Underground trains have no loo. Just as an aside, we never found any facilities in Uxbridge, not even a pub that was open at that hour.
So once again my story has both of us desperate for a wee, and still a long way from our boat. To add to our distress we realized we had no money between us for a taxi. The only choice was to walk. That’s fine for Robert but it’s the worst for my poor system.
Imagine a built up area with traffic all around and plenty of pedestrians. Our first idea was to nip into an industrial estate, which would be empty on a Saturday evening. Our entry set off a security alarm so we rushed back to the road and tried to run but I couldn’t, because of my desperation and Robert couldn’t because he was laughing too hard. I must say for a grown man he is sometimes childish. The second idea was much better for me. We would stop and admire the view of the by–pass roundabout while standing amongst the ornamental shrubs. It would have been easy for me to just wet the favorite panties and march off, less so for Robert as the shrubs were only knee high.
Neither of us was able to take advantage because somebody equally strange to London collared us to ask directions to somewhere we’d never heard of. She talked and talked as if we were really interested in her predicament while all along ours was becoming more serious.
I suppose women the all over the world recognize the signs of needing to go and she eventually said, “Well, mustn’t keep you waiting,” and set off. Less than a mile to the relative quiet of the canal bank and then only ten minutes more. “Look Robert, I can’t wait that long I’m going to have to resort to emergency measures”. He looked puzzled. I told him that when a girl has got to go all she needs is some grass and a diversion. “I’m going to walk on the grass and you’ve got to ensure that people watch you and not me because I’m going to piddle as I go.”
Poor Robert, he’s so used to being able to pee conveniently up against a wall or a hedge or into the canal. He’s not used to these urban places. It is hard to tell when he’s really desperate but there is one mannerism that is usually a give away. He opens and closes his hands in the air in front of him. “What do you want me to do?” he asked.
“Just do anything that makes people look at you for a few minutes as they pass…maybe pretend you’re desperate to pee.” I joked.
“No problem at all, I’ll be completely convincing.”
I was able to walk along beside him watching his antics whilst enjoying a most satisfactory pee. He hopped about from one leg to the other. He bent and clutched himself, then stood upright and did this curious dance involving the opening and closing of his hands. Running on the spot flapping his elbows like a chicken he did his job magnificently. He did it so well that a boy racer pulled alongside saying “You all right mate?” Just as well I’d finished my pee by then, so I came to the rescue and said “Yes thanks, he’s quite harmless so we take him out for a walk when he gets a bit restless.”
“You his nurse then, darling?”
“That’s right, weekends mainly.”
“Great, what you doing Monday night?”
Robert couldn’t stand this and interrupted, with a piercing look at me he said, “I think I might be having a funny turn.”
“Can you handle him dear?” asked the youth, looking worried.
“Oh yes,” I said, “He only gets a bit incontinent.”
The car roared off down the bypass and I turned to Robert with my hands over my mouth to hide the grin.
“If I could take my hands off of my Willy I’d have them around your neck,” is what he said, though I knew he wasn’t serious. With that he started walking very quickly towards the canal bridge and the relative safety of the canal bank. He was a hundred yards ahead of me when he disappeared through the stile. By the time I caught up with him he was down by the canal peeing against the bridge abutment. In one direction there was nobody in sight, but just the other side of the bridge I heard a man obviously talking to his dog. He would come upon Robert in couple of seconds.
In an effort to make up for my cruel joke of a few minutes before I put my arms round his neck and started kissing him. The ruse worked I think, because the man went by pulling his dog, saying “Leave the people alone Rastus.” I got a wet skirt from the encounter.
Walking the last short distance back to the boat Robert wanted to know what had caused this sudden burst of affection and when I told him it was to protect him as he had protected me he stopped and returned my kiss, twice. We spent the rest of the evening practicing nudity and agreed that it had been a most enjoyable day.
Are all these accidents our own fault?
Happy puddles everyone!
May