For my second year at university, I moved out of residence dorms and into a townhouse near campus. The newspaper listing had said "basement apartment," but that wasn't entirely accurate, since my "apartment" didn't have a bathroom in it. Really, I was renting a bedroom with a microwave. To use the bathroom, I had to climb two flights of stairs and share with my landlord's daughter Emma.

 

I never felt comfortable going upstairs in the middle of the night. Usually, I was up late studying or writing papers, and I hated the idea of disturbing the family. They were nice people. I didn't want to bother them by turning on lights and flushing toilets at two in the morning.

One day, not long after I'd moved in, I was moving furniture around when I accidentally flipped up the carpet in my room. There was no subflooring. They'd put the broadloom down on bare concrete, and right near the corner there was a drain. A drain! It was a circle about three or four inches across, with a metal grate over it. Even after I'd covered it back up, I kept thinking about it.

 

Later that night, after two cups of tea and a bottle of water, I felt that heaviness in my pelvis. I needed to pee. The family had obviously gone to bed-there were no footsteps or TV sounds coming from upstairs-and that drain under the carpet was looking pretty appealing. What difference did it make if I peed in the floor? A drain was a drain, right? Those pipes all went to the same place.

 

So I lifted the carpet and pushed down my pyjama pants, kicking them across the room. All I had to do was squat. The drain was in the perfect position for me to press my back against the wall, so I knew I wouldn't fall over. I spread my legs wide, staring down at the drain. I'd never had to aim my stream before. I didn't know if I could pull it off. Hopefully I wouldn't spritz all over the carpet.

 

It took a couple seconds before I could let loose. The feeling of peeing without being on a toilet was really strange at first, but also exhilarating. I felt kind of dirty, kind of naughty, like I was doing something I shouldn't be doing. And I guess I was. I don't think the family would appreciate it if they knew I was peeing on their floor.

 

The drain became my late-night secret place. Every day I looked forward to using it the same way I used to look forward to getting myself off with my vibrator or my fingers.

 

Sometimes after my stream died down, I would flick my clit, rub it around a little, bring myself to orgasm in no time. I have no idea what turned me on about crouching in the corner of my bedroom to pee, but my pussy was always super-wet by the time I'd finished. Often, if I fucked myself with my fingers, I could get myself to squirt even more liquid. It would spray all over my palm and drip down from my hand. I wondered if I was the only girl in the world who did things like this. I couldn't imagine it was common.