anyone remember Elizabeth/Lizzie

[bazzle]

Many moons ago there used to be a set of stories/diary of a south African women living in London, not liking to pee in conventional places. Has anyone saved those stories anywhere?? She had fun at Chelsea flower show and various other places. Had a quick search with out much success.

Cheers B

[samkorg]

I've got thousands of stories saved from over the years....but they are so disorganized I often can't find anything.
But - I did find a dozen or so that are actually labeled Lizzy....here is the first - maybe what you were looking for?


Part 1

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Posted by Lizzy on Tue Sep 18 09:48:57 2001

In reply to: My life posted by Lizzy

Chapter 1 – Africa

My mother was English but my father was an Afrikaner and when they married
my father took mother off to a remote farm in the South African bush. When
I was due to be born mother flew back to England to give birth with her
family because she did not think that it would be a good idea to rough it
in the bush. Technically this makes me British but I think of myself as
African.

Living on a farm in the veldt as we did really does involve roughing it
quite a lot of the time because where we were on the edge of the Kruger
park we did not have all of the services that everyone takes for granted
(like television, plumbing and regular electricity!). The isolation did
have many advantages. As we were left alone to live our lives just as we
pleased and I was able to play with the black children, which wouldn't have
been allowed elsewhere in South Africa at that time. In many ways the
Vorderman household was quite liberal for the time.

It wasn't just mother and father and me on the farm because we had the boys
who did all the heavy work and our maid and cook (as I write this it does
not sound like roughing it at all!) who all lived in tin shacks around the
farm and a tutor who came once a week to teach me and the black children.
Because of the lack of effective plumbing we had an earth closet where we
could poo but if we wanted to pee we girls would just squat down in the
yard and the men would pee on the fences around the yard to keep the
antelope (and therefore the lions!) away. People in England find it strange
but it is quite normal in Africa to not wear shoes and neither mother nor I
wore any underwear under our dresses because of the heat.
The black women used to wear invariably white knickers which mother said was because 'it
makes them feel that they are better than us'. But not wearing knickers
under a short dress meant that I could just squat down and pee even if I
was carrying things in both hands or if I was sitting on the ground I could
just pee where I was sitting. Obviously this was all quite normal to me at
the time and I thought that this was what all white people did. Even when
we went on holiday to the coast in the land rover we would pee beside the
road and camp on the beach on our own, peeing wherever we liked. I guess
father didn't like people much because he always made sure that we never
met anybody to make me question this.

Things changed a bit for me when one evening when I was about nine or ten I
was wearing a long skirt (it must have been winter) and I was quite tired
and couldn't be bothered to reach down and pull my skirt up so that I could
squat down to pee and I just let go, letting the pee run down my legs. I
guess that it didn't worry me that I was getting pee on my legs and feet
because they often got splashed when I squatted down anyway but the pee was
not cold on my legs like the splashes but was hot and felt so nice and
comforting. Soon the warmth started to cool and I tried to pee some more to
warm my legs up again but after a little squirt I was empty. Even in winter
it is still quite hot in Africa and my legs soon dried but I now knew that
I wanted to pee like this instead of squatting down but I felt that this
was naughty, I don't know why, perhaps it was the beginning of my sexual
awakening. From then on if I wanted to pee I would try to be alone so that
I could pee standing up. A couple of times some of the black girls caught
me by surprise while I was peeing standing up and tried it for themselves
but they forgot that unlike them I was not wearing knickers and I expect
they got told off by their mothers for wetting their knickers. None of them
ever did it more than a few times before reverting to pulling their
knickers down and squatting to pee.

The next big change that occurred was a few years later. I was 13 and I had
either managed to keep my peeing methods secret or if I had been found out
no one had said anything. It was an evening again and mother had arranged a
little party where the neighbours had come over for a drink in the house.
We were all dressed up, I had a long dress on with no shoes and mother was
wearing a little cocktail dress with high heels. I had been drinking lots
of squash and a glass of wine chatting to some of the neighbours and went
outside when it looked like I would be on my own. I went over to the far
side of the yard watching some giraffes passing in the distance and as
usual I started to pee not thinking that anybody was there. The glass of
wine had probably numbed my senses because just as I had finished and was
savouring the warmth on my legs mother came from nowhere and stood beside
me. I knew that there was no way that she could have missed what I had done
as I had made no attempt to pee quietly and I was of course now standing in
a puddle. Mother just stood beside me and said "nice evening, look there
are the giraffes again". I was expecting her to say something about me
peeing down my legs but instead she just stood and did the same as I had
done. I was just so unbelievably shocked as I heard the hissing noise as
she began to pee standing up with her legs together letting the pee run
down from under her short dress into her shoes. It was not as if she
couldn't have squatted down with such a short skirt. Neither mother nor I
said anything, I was just completely speechless. When mother had finished
peeing she just stood still for a minute or so, then turned and went back
into the house.

I don't know whether Mother was trying to show me how
shocking it is to just pee down your legs or if it was her way of telling
me that it was OK but from then on I became much more open until I always
peed down my legs, at first only when I was on my own or with mother but
eventually in front of anyone, even at mothers parties. Mother never said
anything but the black women would give funny looks for a while until they
got used to me. I did see mother pee down her legs on two subsequent
occasions. Once when she was carrying a tray of drinks across the yard
while wearing a dress that went down to below her knees, she just stopped
walking about half way across and I heard the hissing as she began to pee
down her legs and saw the puddle forming around her bare feet. As soon as
the hissing stopped she just carried on walking letting the last dribbles
run down her legs as she walked. The other time was at another of her
parties when she was wearing a very tight black dress where the skirt was
so narrow at the knees that she had to step into it. I watched through the
doorway as she stepped into the yard and stood for a few seconds before her
ankles began to glisten as her pee flowed down her legs and formed a short
lived puddle around her shoes. She stood for a few seconds after she had
finished peeing before coming back inside to rejoin the party.

[bazzle]

That's the first one in a series! Wow 2001..scary how long I have been reading these things for. Excellent!

[samkorg]

[samkorg]

Part 2

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Posted by Lizzy on Tue Sep 18 09:49:49 2001

In reply to: My life posted by Lizzy

Chapter 2 – The upheaval
.........................
When I was sixteen my father was horrifically burnt in a very bad fire
which destroyed a lot of the farm buildings while he was working on one of
the tractors. He only lived for a few weeks after this and never left
hospital. As you can probably understand I was devastated by this, being so
isolated Mother, Father and my tutor were the only people I had close
contact with (at this time the ANC had stirred up trouble and the blacks
could not be trusted as friends any more) and although my father did not
express his emotions and I was closer to my mother the loss was hard to
come to terms with. Before father died mother discussed the future of the
farm with him and decided that with so much destroyed and very little
income coming in it was really the end. I had felt the hardship myself when
I had taken up painting to sell to the safari tourists in order to boost
our family income instead of learning how to run the farm. The value of
what remained of the farm had been so little that there was not much chance
of selling the farm, mother decided to give what remained to the farm
workers to run as a co-operative and decided that she and I should go and
live with her friend ‘auntie Carol’ who had moved to Johannesburg while we
got ourselves sorted out.
Moving to Jo’burg really opened my eyes. I had lived such a sheltered life
and so many things I had taken for granted as being normal were not normal
for the city dwellers. Of course I rebelled at the enforced change in my
life and refused to compromise. I would not do any of the chores that the
maid and cook would have done and I refused to use the toilet to pee in. I
was at first completely open with my peeing but auntie Carol told me that I
should be more discrete in the city or there could be trouble. She
suggested that I use the back alley and that I should not pee outside the
front door of the apartments as the other residents would complain.
In Jo’burg with time on my hands I began to explore the city, spending a
lot of time in the local park where I would sit on a bench chatting with
passers by. I always wore a mini dress and would often pee while sitting on
the bench and I loved the reactions of the people I was talking to when I
did it, sometimes they were disgusted, sometimes indifferent and sometimes
intrigued. On several occasions women wearing short skirts joined me and
just spontaneously peed, at least one of them getting wet knickers in the
process because she asked what I did about my wet knickers and I opened my
legs and showed her that I didn’t wear any.
With nothing to do I became very lazy to the point that I could not be
bothered to go downstairs to the back alley to pee, putting it off longer
and longer and then one day I decided to do it in the bed before I got up.
Nobody said anything so I just carried on wetting the bed as soon as I woke
up. I think that mother and auntie Carol must have discussed the bed
wetting and (rightly) decided that they were unlikely to stop me doing it
as I was more than old enough to know better.
Soon after I started to wet the bed auntie Carol said that since I was
unlikely to get a good job in Jo’burg I should move to London as she knew
someone who was looking for a receptionist and at least I could try it and
see if I liked London. I was getting bored and thought I would like to give
it a try. Auntie Carol made some arrangements and it was all agreed.
Auntie Carol took me round some second hand shops where I picked up a nice
power suit with a jacket and pleated mini skirt, a white blouse and smart
pair of shoes. I tried it on in the shop and wearing the shoes felt very
funny after spending my whole life in bare feet. I embarrassed Auntie Carol
when I lifted up the hem of the skirt while saying how nice the material
felt, exposing my fanny to everyone in the shop. I kept the outfit on and
we went to the travel agents to pick up my ticket. On the way home when we
were on a street on our own I christened my new outfit, wanting to pee I
just automatically stopped walking and let the pee run down my legs. Auntie
Carol heard the hissing and splashing and looked round exclaiming “your
shoes!” I then realised that the pee was going in my shoes. I just calmly
said, “they’re wet now” and carried on until I was empty. The shoes dried
out as we walked home and they didn’t feel any stranger wet than dry. When
I got home mother said that I looked really smart. I wore my new suit to
the park for a couple of days when it wasn’t too hot and was surprised at
how differently people reacted to me compared to when I was wearing my
normal more ‘hippie’ stuff, especially when I wet myself. I tried peeing
standing up a couple of times again to make sure that my shoes were OK and
they were so I just carried on peeing as normal

[samkorg]

My life

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Posted by Lizzy on Tue Sep 18 09:50:37 2001

In reply to: My life posted by Lizzy

Chapter 3 - London
.........................
I think that my continual wetting of the bed must have helped Auntie Carol
with the arrangements because I was soon off to London. Jan Smut’s airport
was really scary with all the armed guards but while I was apprehensive I
soon found an unobserved corner to pee in before I got on the plane. I felt
like I was an executive in my smart suit and it certainly gave me plenty of
confidence. I didn’t fully appreciate how long these flights were and of
course I wet the seat a bit before landing. Fortunately I was in a window
seat and no one had to get by me during the flight but when we had landed I
started trying to mop up the seat with some paper towels but a stewardess
said “Accidents happen, it’s OK, I’ll sort it out” and ushered me off the
plane. If I had known I wouldn’t have tried to hold it and I could have
completely emptied my bladder and enjoyed the second half of the flight a
bit more and concentrated on the film. I was still busting when I got off
the plane having only relieved the pressure. At Heathrow I was able to pee
down my legs again in a corner, there were lots of people around but the
people using the telephones seemed preoccupied so I stood next to a woman
who had her back to me and did it. Although it was summer it was not as hot
as Africa in winter and I noticed that my legs took a lot longer to dry and
my shoes started to squeak.
I caught a taxi to my hotel and settled in. Before bed I peed little spurts
as I walked around the room to avoid making a big wet patch as I did not
know London and did not know where I could pee outside with it being so
busy. The next morning I woke up and automatically peed in the bed. I
didn’t mean to but I just woke up and did it. Living at Auntie Carols’ had
sort of conditioned me. I had a day in London to acclimatise before my
interview so after having a shower I put on my suit and went down stairs.
After breakfast I got a tourist map from reception and set off. Straight
away I was aware that people were looking at me strangely as if I had two
heads or something. I thought about how I could be different, perhaps my
tan was better than average and I made sure that my fanny wasn’t showing
but then a small boy said “Mummy, why hasn’t that lady got any shoes on?”
Not wanting to draw attention to myself I went back to the hotel to get my
shoes. When I got to my room I saw that the door was open, I thought it
might be burglars but then I realised it must be the maid when I saw her
trolley outside with wet sheets on top. I went in and saw the maid
finishing off making my bed. “I’m just getting my shoes,” I said. “That’s
alright miss,” she said. I was expecting her to react to me wetting the bed
but she didn’t. I slipped on my shoes and went out again.
I soon found that it wasn’t that hard to find suitable places to pee in
London. I misread my map and ended up in a muse so finding myself all alone
I just stopped walking and peed while I checked my map. When I was at the
houses of parliament I was looking at my map to work out how to get to
Buckingham Palace when a fellow tourist, Peter asked me where I was going.
I told him where I was going and he said that he was going there as well so
perhaps we should walk together. We saw Buckingham Palace then Hyde Park
and Marble Arch and then we ended up in Soho. I was quite surprised when we
saw a man just standing and peeing against a wall. Peter said that Soho was
quite a seedy place. Since it appeared perfectly acceptable to pee in the
street in Soho I thought I might as well take the opportunity to go myself.
I just said “Hold on a minute Peter, I need to pee”, stopped walking and
peed down my legs. I don’t think that Peter realised at first what I was
doing because he was looking at his map and said, “There’s probably a
toilet at….” And then tailed off as he heard me peeing and looked down at
my feet. When I finished I said “That’s better” and just walked on the way
we were going. It was nice to be able to just wet myself in front of people
again and not to have to be discrete. Peter didn’t react to me wetting
apart from offering to buy me drink whenever he saw some for sale. We just
carried on seeing the sights and ended up at the embankment. I said that it
was time I was getting back to my Hotel for dinner and he said that he
would have to go and pack as he was going home the next day. He asked for
my telephone number but I didn’t have one and I suppose that I should have
asked for his but I didn’t. I thought that I had better repay him for
buying me all the drink so while we were stood on the embankment saying
goodbye I wet myself again, just standing with my legs together letting the
pee run down into my shoes. There were lots of people around and I guess
that they didn’t know what I was doing but Peter did and that was all that
mattered. I’d made quite a big puddle and left a trail of footprints while
Peter watched as I walked back to the hotel. I peed again in a back street
just before I got to the hotel then had dinner and went to bed.
The next morning I woke up and knowing where I was didn’t automatically wet
the bed. I was quite relieved that I was still able to control my bladder.
I had not peed since before dinner the previous evening so my bladder was
quite full. I decided to wet the bed anyway since the maid didn’t seem to
worry about it and I just laid on my back and peed. I was enjoying the warm
wetness when the phone rang. It was mother wishing me good luck in my
interview. I got up, showered, dressed, had breakfast and walked along the
embankment to the City. Auntie’s friend had faxed a map for me so I was
able to find the office quite easily. I thought that I had better pee
before I go in so I went round the block and found a quiet alley where as
usual I stood and peed down my legs. I continued round the block stopping
to check my appearance before entering the office. I was a little bit
concerned at first since there was already a receptionist but she soon put
my mind to rest as she was just a temp. I sat down on one of the low
reception seats and Alison the temp brought me a coffee. I had my knees
together but Alison could still see my fanny as I sat back in the low chair
because she said “Stay sitting like that when Mr. Wakely comes out, I have
it on good authority that he prefers knickerless”. I chatted with Alison
for a few minutes and she told me that she doesn’t wear knickers to work
anymore after one of the other women in the office convinced her to try it.
Mr. Wakely came out and I noticed that he had a good look up my skirt. I
opened my knees slightly as I got up to greet him to ensure that he didn’t
miss anything. Mr. Wakely took me to his office and we had a chat, nothing
like I was expecting, about Auntie Carol and me. It transpired that Mr
Wakely and Auntie Carol were almost an item but Auntie Carol would not
leave Africa. At the end of my interview Mr Wakely said that I could have
the job and he told me the conditions and pay and said that I could start
next Monday. I told him that I needed to sort out my accommodation as I was
staying in a hotel at Auntie Carol’s expense. He said that he would get
Alison to help me find something. Mr. Wakely took me back to reception and
told me to sit down, which I did dutifully keeping my knees slightly apart
while he instructed Alison to find me somewhere to live all the while
looking up my skirt. Alison was very efficient and soon penned rings all
over the classified section of the newspaper and set me up in an office to
arrange some appointments to see some flats. Alison told me to make the
appointments for evenings so that she could come with me because it would
be safer. After I had made the appointments I arranged to meet Alison after
work, left and did some more sightseeing, wetting myself discretely as
necessary.
The next few days were uneventful, I was getting bored with sightseeing so
I spent the days sitting on park benches chatting to passers by and
shocking some of them by wetting myself, wearing my suit every day now that
I was a ‘city girl’. Each evening at five o’clock I wet myself behind the
office before meeting Alison and taking the underground train. I was
disappointed that I would be living so far away but Alison explained that
it was far too expensive to live in the city. After looking at about twenty
flats, most of which were unbelievably small I chose one and while Alison
could understand the attraction of the size of it with a separate bedroom
and nice kitchen area she couldn’t comprehend why I would be happy to share
the bathroom. I just casually said that I wouldn’t be using it much and
pointed out that there was a shower in the bedroom. Auntie Carol wired me
the money I needed for the deposit and I checked out of the hotel and moved
my suitcase full of belongings in on the Saturday. I found a local charity
shop and managed to get all of the stuff that I hadn’t brought with me.
When I got back home I realised that I had been so engrossed in my shopping
that I had forgotten to pee so I stood outside the front door still holding
my bags and peed down my legs before going in. I was disappointed that no
one had been there to see me because I felt like making a statement that
this was my home and it’s normal for me to wet myself. I decided to try
again later since I still had to get some groceries. Again no one saw me.
Having my own home was quite liberating in many ways but now that I was on
my own I had all of the responsibility. I decided that I would not wet my
bed any more because I would have to do all of the washing and there was no
way I could wash the bedding every day like Auntie Carol or the hotel did.
That evening Alison brought round a bottle of wine and a portable
television as a house warming present. Alison said that people would think
that I am strange if I didn’t know what was on ‘the telly’. I had already
shown my ignorance and had to explain that television in Africa was not
very good so nobody bothered to watch and a lot of people didn’t have a
television. We drank the wine and when I needed to pee I told Alison and
went outside to pee. Alison asked me if I was all right when I got back as
I had been gone a long time because there were people milling about outside
and this time I did not feel like making a statement so went round the
corner to pee. I just said that I was OK. We chatted into the early hours
then Alison went home and I went to bed. It had been a long day and I slept
well.
On Sunday morning I woke up with a very full bladder and a nasty headache.
I had drunk wine before but never that much and now it was taking its toll.
I remembered that I was not going to wet the bed any more and tried to get
up but my headache got worse. I lied back down and decided that since it
was a medical emergency that my headache had prevented me from getting up I
would have to wet the bed and wash the bedding later. I just laid back and
enjoyed the warmth as I emptied my bladder into my new bed. Later I was
able to get up and I made myself a coffee but I did not feel well enough to
do the washing so I had a restful day, peeing in the street while I popped
out to the corner shop for a snack. In the evening the bed felt dry so I
went to bed early in order that I would be ready for my first day at work.

[SteveLamonte]

Many moons ago there used to be a set of stories/diary of a south African women living in London, not liking to pee in conventional places. Has anyone saved those stories anywhere?? She had fun at Chelsea flower show and various other places. Had a quick search with out much success.

Cheers B

There's still a ton of that person's stories up at Peesearch under the name Lizzie _V1. Or, you can buy the book:

http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/my-w...=9781447611769

Except, something about that cover photo kind of spoils the fun, for me anyway.

[bazzle]

Ahh I don't visit that site, but glad that I was not imagining it! Cheers B

[Scotsboy]

I don't remember her at all. Though what I've read here, her stories are rather erotic. I love a woman who has an aversion to the toilet! Is that a picture of her on the cover of the book?