Daddy, I need to pee!
Daddy takes his little girl to pee.
“I need to pee, Daddy,” you say with a slight whine in your voice.
I don't take much notice of you. It's a warm, sunny day, I'm enjoying my second cold pint and reading the newspaper. More trouble in the Gaza strip.
“Go and pee then, Sweetie,” I reply, without even looking up.
“You know where to go, Baby. What's the matter?”
“I don't want to go on my own.”
I see now. I understand that when you're feeling like this, no amount of telling you to be a big girl or trying to reassure that it's fine to go alone is going to convince you. I'm going to have to take you. This is fine at home, it's no bother for me and I really don't mind, but when we're out in public it can be a real pain.
I sigh and try to go back to my paper. Another dodgy politician at it again. I hope maybe if I ignore you, then you'll give in and just go by yourself. Fat chance of that.
“Daddy,” you say again through gritted teeth, sounding very cross with me. “I need to go to the loo!”
I look into the pub. One bored barmaid propping up the bar, right opposite the ladies lavatory. There is no way I'll be able to slip in unseen.
“Sweetie baby, you know daddies can't go into the ladies loo. Can't you wait until I've finished my drink? We'll go home then.” I'm almost pleading with you, but you're not having any of it.
“I need to go really bad!” your knees are together and you're doing that jittery pee dance. It's quite cute really. “I have to go right now!”
I look around the beer garden. It's a Monday afternoon so it's virtually empty. A young couple at the next table. They're too wrapped up in each other to even notice anybody else. One other bloke, sitting alone, his dog snoozing under his chair, copy of the Guardian held up to his face. Lucky bastard.
I spy a small thicket of bushes and a low wall over in the far corner. I suppose we could slip inside, you can piss, then be out again and back here before anyone even notices we've moved.
You look at me, those big eyes wide behind your spectacles, your hair tied in two bunches, each held in place with a silky ribbon, still doing your jig of desperation. How can I say 'no' to you? It's impossible.
I exhale slowly. The things you can make me do with that precious face of yours. I take a gulp of my beer and put a mat on top of the glass to indicate I'm coming back. Hopefully it will still be cool by the time we return.
“Come on then, Sweetness,” I say as I get to my feet. “This way.”
My hand on the small of your back guides you down to the bottom of the garden. You walk awkwardly. Still trying to keep your knees together, afraid to part your thighs lest you wet yourself.
We arrive at the bushes and I push some branches aside. There is small clearing behind them, just perfect for somebody to squat down in discretely.
“In ya go, Baby girl.”
“But, Daddy,” you begin to protest. “What if somebody sees me?”
“In!” I tell you sternly, then follow it up with reassurance. “Don't worry, nobody will see. I'll keep watch.”
Without another word you slip inside. I let the branches go and position myself in front. I pretend to be busy on my phone. Nobody ever questions you, if you're on your phone.
After a few seconds I wonder why I'm not hearing that distinctive pitter patter of piss hitting the ground. A few seconds more and I'm really curious. What are you doing back there? My pint is getting warm. Another couple of seconds and I get my answer. You call out to me in a raised whisper.
“What is it now, Angel?”
“I can't go...It won't come.”
I'm starting to get exasperated. “You were desperate a minute ago, Princess. What's wrong?”
“Daddy, I need you.”
For god's sake. This is getting silly. In fact, it's already gone way past silly. I pull the bush back again. After a quick glance about me to check I'm not being observed, I join you inside. It's very cramped with both of us in here, but I can stand upright comfortably enough.
You are squatting on your haunches with your knees wide apart. Well, as wide as they'll go with your panties around your calves. You have your simple, summer slip dress hitched up to your waist. Not the most refined or daintiest of poses, but you look so vulnerable and really quite enticing. I can't help but smirk at the sight.
You say nothing, just look up at me. The corners of your mouth are down turned, making a grumpy face. I take your hand.
“Come on now, Princess,” I tell you firmly. “Enough. Pee for Daddy.”
You bite your bottom lip, still gazing up at me. Your eyes round and bright, full of innocent trust. You are Daddy's precious little one and I love you.
With your hand held tightly in mine, your lip grasped between your teeth and staring straight into my eyes, you let out a whimper and start to piss. Just a quick splash at first, as usually happens when you start to pee, as if your body is checking it's safe to do so. The briefest of pauses, then a steady jet.
I can tell you really did need to go. It's coming out fast and hard. At first it makes a little pool on the hard, dry earth, then runs away from you in a little stream.
“Oh, Daddy. It's splashing on me.” Your painted toes squirming and wiggling in your flip flops as the hot, yellow urine continues to flow. There is a slight, ever so faint, whiff of ammonia in the air.
“Never mind, Sweetie. We'll go home once you've finished.”
You look down, eyebrows knitted, at the puddle between your feet. The pee has slowed to a trickle.
“I need a tissue to wipe myself, Daddy.”
You've finished, just a few drops still cling to you like morning dew.
“I don't have any, Poppet. It doesn't matter, you can get cleaned up later,” I say in a comforting tone.
You shake yourself off as best you can with a waggle of your hips.
“Eww,” you exclaim, as you gingerly pull your panties back up and over your bum. You stand up and straighten your dress with another little shimmy.
You giggle, then a broad smile beams across your face. You are adorable! I can't resist pressing my lips to yours and giving you a little smooch. Your lips react instinctively to mine and kiss me back.
I part the leaves, just to check the coast is clear. There's nobody there. I guide you out from behind the bush, being careful no stray branches hit you in the face as you step through the gap I've created for you. Hand in hand we walk back across the pub garden to our table. There is a slight skip in your step.
My pint is still there waiting for me. I knock most of it back. Not quite warm yet.
“Come on, Sugar plum. Let's go home, shall we?”
“Yes, Daddy,” you agree sweetly, then add, “Can we get ice cream on the way?”
“Of course, Baby. Anything you want.”