Pee Voyeur Anonymous: Lesson 1: Peeing on Sand

Pee Voyeur Anonymous

Lesson 1: Peeing on Sand

There was no one else in the corridor while I looked to find room one-oh-four. The right door had a printed page taped to it.

Pee Voyeur Anonymous

Introductory Level.

Should I knock, or just burst in? This was a school building, and no one knocked at school. Rechecking each side of the corridor, but still no one else. My stomach was churning as bad as if it was my first day of real school, and this visit was as compulsory as school had been. Ten visits here, or a formal charge and a visit to court. It was no option really. Taking a deep breath and standing straight, I turned the knob and opened the door smartly, my feet firmly through the opening, and for better or worse, I was committed.

Everyone inside turned to me, all conversation stopping instantly. “Our new member,” a woman’s voice said, and conversation around the room slowly resumed. The woman was easy to identify, standing behind a desk toward the right wall, but dressed in a white towelling bathrobe. Away from her a little was a semicircle of empty chairs, with the balance of the room filled with desks pushed close together. Some of those desks had bags and cases set on them, and there were maybe a dozen men looking at those and talking together.

Walking toward that woman, I kept glancing at the other participants, trying to see if there was any that might recognise me, but to say the truth, those others really looked like a bunch of weird perverts.

“I’m Steph, but here most call me Miss Stephanie.”

“Tom,” I said. “The officer sent me.”

“Minimum of ten visits,” Steph said looking down at a clipboard lying on the desk. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy your time with us. We’ll be starting in a minute.”

Standing back and feeling like I didn’t fit in here while I tried to avoid staring at Steph. The woman had long black hair tied in a ponytail, the end swishing around as she moved. Watching the other men was safer, but they didn’t have her cute face, and their voices were so harsh compared to her sweet words. Better to concentrate on the room rather than imagining what was hidden behind her robe. In the far front of the room was something that didn’t seem to belong. It was a blue plastic shell. The sort of thing that could be used for a toddler’s wading pool, but this was filled half up with what looked like beach sand. Maybe it was something leftover from this room’s daylight use as a real classroom.

Clap Clap Clap. “Time to begin. Our new member, Tom, by that end there.” Steph pointed to the last chair on the half-circle. “Get to your places chop-chop.”

The chairs filled quickly, Steph standing, her hands on her hips in the middle of the arc waiting until everyone was settled.

“Now, we’ll go around the room. I’ll begin. My name is Miss Stephanie and I am a pervert.”

“Welcome Miss Stephanie,” the others chorused.

“My name is Quentin, and I am a pervert too,” the man at the other end of the line of chairs said.

“Welcome Quentin,” the others chorused.

Then Steph asked, “Did you control your urges to secretly peep at women peeing this week Quentin?”

“Yes Miss Stephanie.” The room all clapped, and Anthony, the next in line continued.

When it was my turn, I followed the same pattern, then Steph took full charge of the class. “Before we move to tonight’s therapy I have an exciting announcement. We’ve planned an excursion for those that might like an outdoor event.”

That brought forth a lot of cheering.

“Saturday, weather permitting, we are taking a bus to Burt’s Sand Quarry where we can practice peeping on the beach without strangers seeing us. We plan to set off at three thirty from here, and a BBQ dinner will be supplied. There will be three more models, so remember to bring all your gear, but no flash to be used after dark. Sign-up sheet here at the end of the lesson.”

All but me were talking loudly together. It seemed this idea was enthusiastically accepted, but it seemed a strange way to cure perverts of peeping.


Clap Clap Clap. “To get into the mood for our excursion, I’m going to do one of the early lessons from our Beach

Voyeur Anonymous course.”

There was a scraping of chairs as some were attempting to quickly get up.

“Maybe those that want to move now can go and get my sandbox and put it in front here. No gear needed yet.”

There was a rush of men to get to the blue sandbox and move it in front of the semicircle of chairs. Steph pointed exactly where she wanted the sandbox, then the helpers returned to their seat.

“Theory first. Remember we need to understand why people pee where they do to make it easier to catch them.”

“Yes Miss Stephanie.” The group sounded like they were reading from a script, or else they had done this course many times before.

“Now I’m sure most of you are familiar with the public toilets at the beach, and how few there are of them and how far they are away from the actual water.”

There was loud snorting and a mumble of agreement, then one man said, “Stink too.” That brought laughter.

“And that’s the reason most women will try to sneak a pee on the beach. They don’t want to take that long journey. And if they do, they have to endure the inevitable queue, hopping from leg to leg until a cubical is finally free. Then they race inside, holding their nose at the strong fetid smell, and close the door only to see the floor has patches of squashed poop exactly where their feet would be. They look to the toilet seat and see it dripping with pee and some brown lumps scattered toward the rear. So they still end up squatting high over the toilet bowl with the possibility there are men peeping through tiny holes in the wall looking at their bum, waiting for their pee to start. And when they can finally let some pee out, most of it squirts out the wrong direction and runs down their legs and drips get on their held down pants. And if they survive all that, when they reach for the paper dispenser to wipe the drips, it is either empty, or saturated with some liquid that most likely isn’t clean water.”

Most of the men around were grinning, and murmuring to each other.

“So that’s the main reason women try to pee on the sand or in the shallow water.”

“Please Miss. I need to visit the toilet.”

“Won’t it wait, Alfronce?” Steph said to a small man in the middle of the arc.

“No Miss, please.”

“Off you go then. And anyone else that needs to go now, so then we can all settle ready for the practical work.”

It seemed all men wanted to go. There was a rush to be first out the door, and soon it was only me and Steph.

“They’ve all gone to wank off,” she said. “Making sure their cocks won’t stick up hard later. At least they’ll be more settled after. You’re not too worried?”

“I’m not so turned on by this public stuff,” I said. “If I wanted to watch a woman pee, it would rather be a woman I love, and then she could pee on me as much as she wanted.”

“And would you want her to see you pee too?”

“It would be best if we did it together, and peed on each other.”

“Maybe I might need to go and finger myself after that revelation,” Steph said grinning, and that prospect certainly had my cock excited.


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