Photography: Amanda James and Paul Compton

Feminine Anarchy -
Girls Pissing In Public

"These photos of feminine anarchy prove that young women are taking the selfconfident and courageous leap from mere fantasy into the actual reality of slender girls' legs in pisssoaked jeans. Coolly, matter-of-factly and with infectious grins, they let go and let that special juice flow."

"For it is only she who will satisfy me with an issuing forth of bodily fluids. And as her pee begins to spew from her engorged cunt, her laugher breaks the palpable tension. To her this is also fun."
Jackie McMillan

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Press comments and reviews

"Cheerfully and proudly, the girls pee in more or less public places with and without panties. All these girls are pretty exhibitionists who obviously have a lot of fun competing with their male colleagues."
Lui
____

"Indoors or outdoors, these models have no inhibitions about 'letting it flow.' A really great opportunity to surprise your friends with an unusual coffee-table book."
Wet Set

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Foreword 1 of this book

Feminine Anarchy

What makes a girl decide to wet her pants? In my years as editor of "Wet Set Magazine", I've heard reasons that run the gamut from psychological and behavioural problems to physiological defects and sexual dysfunction. I've read heart-wrench-ing tales of feeling like a social outcast and also weird stories of quack medical treatments and the benefits of drinking your own urine. But none of these reasons seem to quite convey the sentiments I've gathered whilst meeting the daring public exhibitionists captured in these pages.

As I catch myself on a photo shoot taking a backward glance to see what sort of wrath is about to befall us for breaking this almost sacred taboo - the taboo against women pissing in public - I feel a strange sort of admiration for the women we depict. These women are strong and daring. They are uninhibited and sexually adventurous. They fashion their pleasure in a way that defies social power. They break conventions with their bodily fluids.

But it's more even than that. It's not merely the conviction of a radical feminist who wishes to challenge the fundamental inequality between men and women that I see in her eyes as she flagrantly disobeys the rules - rules that are indeed different for men and women. Her pupils are dilated, her lips slightly parted, and the flush of her cheeks is evident. Her chest rises and falls quickly, and her proud nipples stand at attention. And if I'm lucky to be standing close enough, the redolent smell of her cunt permeates my delicate nasal membranes. She's aroused. Her body is implicated in her politics in a fundamental, carnal way. She resists those who wish to define her as passive, as yielding, as the perfect complement to an active, phallic male. And this resistance is written on her body as surely as if it had been tattooed there. For it is only she who will satisfy me with an issuing forth of bodily fluids. And as her pee begins to spew from her engorged cunt, her laugher breaks the palpable tension. To her this is also fun.

Narcissistically she admires the size and strength of her golden stream, and my mind turns to men and the cult of admiration they create for their own penises. It seems strange to be speaking of women in these phallic terms, women whose sex is usually defined as an absence, a hole, something to be penetrated. Suddenly women have something to compare, to be proud of, a proverbial spilling of their seed upon the earth. If this is not an instance of cuntpower I don't know what is.

For me it was originally easier to understand the women who bared their cunts and pissed openly, taking for themselves the particular type of privilege that men experience when they are in need of a pee. However I have a policy of making our photo shoots about the model's fantasies, and when one of them suggested that what she liked to do was piss in her panties, I felt compelled to allow her to live out her fantasy in front of the camera. My hesitation stemmed from the fact that it seemed somehow submissive to be having what passersby would view as an accident in your panties. Hiking up your skirt and flashing your streaming cunt on a busy street on the other hand seemed loaded with intentionality and purpose.
It only took one model to show me how wrong I was. Imagine if you will a welldressed girl sauntering to the centre of a busy train station, attracting more than one admiring look as she passes. See her raise her head rather nonchalantly to see if her train is visible in the distance, all the while pee gushes from her cunt down her long, shapely legs, splattering her socks and pooling in her shoes. She sits delicately on a bench, subtly grinding her skirt into her sopping wet panties, assuring herself of a large, obvious wet stain. With a wicked smile she eases off one shoe and empties out her pee in a long, slow trickle before doing the same to the other shoe. Replacing them on her feet she stands and boards her train, saucily wiggling her wet bum, and as she steps through the doors she cheekily looks over her shoulder to assure herself somebody is watching. She walks through the carriage before taking a seat, displaying her pee-soaked body for all who care to look. As she saunters to the far end I watch her inhale deeply with a faraway smile on her face, and I realise she's savouring the fragrant odour of her own pee, fully aware that the people she passes cannot help but smell it too.

Now that's feminine anarchy.

Jackie McMillan BA (HONS)

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Foreword 2 of this book

"All notions of morality are highhanded, and none but the biggest fool would allow himself to be bound by them."
Marquis de Sade, 1785

"Marie was still pissing. On the table, in the midst of the bottles and glasses, she poured her urine with two hands all over herself. She wet her legs, her ass, her face. - Look here, she said to the monster, I'm beautiful."
»The Dead«, Georges Bataille, 1967

"Oh God! What are you waiting for? Let it flow! - The girl obeyed. She bent slightly backwards,
pushed her hips forwards and released a cascade of urine."
Robin - Women On Top: How Real Life Has Changed Women's Sexual Fantasies. Nancy Friday, 1991

"I stand over the toilet bowl with my legs spread wide and pee like a man. I always do it this way in public toilets."
Shanghai Baby, Wei Hui, 2000

Laughter at the Wellsprings of Pleasure
Water is both a creative and a destructive element. It can transform a desert into a beautiful flowering garden and can knock down even the thickest wall. Now it seems as though the power of one special watery element is tearing down and sweeping away yet another piece of the centuriesold wall of religious sexual ethics, a dryly artificial wall erected by men to suppress the female sex and maintain male hegemony. Woman are peeing in public. And they're having lots of fun doing it!

When the pressure in a man's bladder becomes unbearable, he doesn't think twice about urinating in a park, beside a highway, in a field, against a house or tree. But it's obvious that the days of the male piss monopoly are numbered. And there's no logically convincing reason why women should be expected to suppress their need to urinate. The pleasure of publicly emptying the bladder, an act which was formerly regarded as an embarrassing little accident, is now being impudently practiced by courageous women activists everywhere - in parks, in fields, or even in public transport vehicles when transit authorities have sought to save money by
closing public toilets. The stream of urine has been discovered as a fluent medium
of feminist protest.

The unique attribute of the human ability to experience lust is linked, in a very special way, with the generative act. The pleasure associated with sex is, of course, a biological motivation designed to preserve the human species. But because of our anatomical construction, sexual pleasure is naturally allied with another: namely, the pleasure of releasing used bodily fluids. Medical terminology conjoins both organ systems in the single concept of the urogenital tract. But because conception ranks among the Western world's strictest taboos, the pleasure of sex (and with it the pleasure of pissing) have been quarantined for centuries on the index of moral prohibitions. It's a stern and unbending index which has been viewed as unquestionably valid, especially for women. Its transgression has been rigorously penalized, sometimes even to the point of imposing the death sentence.

"Rules are made to be broken." This adage is particularly appropriate when it's applied to the countless variations of human sexuality and pleasurable activity. Prohibition in fact serves as an activating stimulus to commit the very sins it prohibits. The thrill of breaking a rule enhances the pleasure of the act, regardless of whether the deed remains a mere fantasy or is actually carried out.

Currents from Water Spirits
Christian thought led to the anchoring of a standard, or rather a double standard, that was hostile to sex and pleasure. The rise of the bourgeoisie accelerated the decline of sensuality. We can thank Marquis de Sade for reminding us that every moral notion is a manmade artifact and, as such, can be called into question. Imprisoned in the Bastille shortly prior to the outbreak of the French revolution, de Sade wrote The 120 Days of Sodom. Entirely the product of his own imagination, the novel is a compendium of humankind's sheer unlimited sexual possibilities. Some of the most lustfully stimulating props in de Sade's sexual theater are bodily excretions like feces or urine.

Works of literature seldom explicitly refer to the pleasure of feminine pissing. One of the few classics in this genre is undoubtedly the oeuvre of French philosopher and anthropologist Georges Bataille, who was active during the first half of the 20th century and whose work can be assigned to the vicinity of the Surrealist movement. His stories "The History of the Eye" or "Madame Edwarda" are as radical in their language as in their choice of erotic experience for their theme. The foreground is occupied by the anarchic transgression of sexual taboos, by physical excessiveness and extravagant copulation, and by defecation and urination indulged in as their own reward. The orgiastic staging of sexual obsession is a metaphor here for the sovereignty of humankind, which transcends all merely utilitarian social norms.
Only comparatively recently did the motif of the lustfully pissing woman advance to the status of a literary theme among women authors. In her bestselling book My Secret Garden: The Sexual Fantasies of Women, Nancy Friday proved in 1973 that women have sexual fantasies which can far exceed the conceptual limits of men's fantasies. A lesbian staging in which a woman is free to pee to her heart's content naturally belongs in the repertoire of feminine eroticism. With the onset of the new millennium, selfconfident young women authors openly and without false prudery discussed all aspects of sexuality and eroticism. They wrote candidly about their own emotions and about all the details of female sensibility.

The young women who speak out in this book go one step further. They freely admit their passion for flowing waters. They wet themselves consciously and publicly. They piss standing up: in telephone booths, on train platforms, or in discotheques. Whenever and wherever the prospect of urinal pleasure entices them, they unabashedly enjoy themselves as they open the floodgates and release their golden bodily fluid - with a charming smile on their lips all the while. Their motives are diverse. Some women urinate to protest against exaggeratedly strict toilet training. Other girls piss in public because someone has dared them to. Some do it to attract men or indulge in exhibitionism, to exercise their feminine wiles, to experience saucy provocation and sexual excitement.

Watercolor Pictures
The depiction of peeing women has never been a favorite theme in the visual arts, although a few rare pictures do exist, for example, one painting by Rembrandt which shows a barefoot country girl squatting with her skirts pulled up and pissing copiously. The furtive expression on her face indicates that she's fearful of being caught in the act.

They’ll immediately see that Katya embodies the same type of girl as the one who was depicted in his first book. Katya corresponds to the same ideal of feminine beauty. As was the case in the earlier volume, here too in Russian Lolita we encounter the same everyday quality and the same trusted familiarity in the settings and poses. Surprisingly, however, the protagonist loses nothing of her magic as she goes about these everyday routines.

Taboos imposed upon the female sex (including female excretory processes) combined with the appeal of the illicit and reached their peak in the 19th century. Meanwhile, the invention of photography offered hitherto unimagined new opportunities for the visual depiction of the wildest sexual fantasies. The resultant images, of course, were branded with social sanctions, anathematized as obscene, perverse, pornographic or sexually psychopathological. And covertly enjoyed in private.

The largest collection of post-1850 erotic photography contains tens of thousands of images of human beings engaged in every possible sexual practice and is kept at the research institute which was founded by American zoologist and sexologist Alfred C. Kinsey. Among the many images in this collection are a few photos, taken around 1900, which depict women peeing. The expressions on the faces of the urinating models clearly show that they're enjoying the flow. The digital technologies of the Information Age are now being used commercially by aficionados of "wet eroticism" to create a veritable tsunami of images. As was the case in the past, today too depictions of peeing people still remain under a taboo. And this prudish prohibition ensures that photos featuring this sexual variant will remain eagerly sought and avidly marketed in the category of the illicit drug called "pornography." As far as the aesthetic quality of the work is concerned, no better pictures exist in this genre than Pisseuses by photographer Claude Fauville. These intimate images are staged so impressively and with such impassioned devotion that even the most rigorously prudish moral apostle would no doubt succumb to their charm. After all, who could resist these precious pearls of piss from such soft seashells of lust?

The Radiant Spray of the Feminine Imagination Urinary provocateurs pursue an entirely different, shockingly direct and emphatically public path. Towards the end of the 1990s, the women in the "Rockbitch" band integrated their sexual fantasies into a stage show. Theirs was a courageous act of female liberation which terrified selfappointed guardians of socalled "public morality." Moralist evangelists were shocked by the nudity, by the explicitly sexual behavior and demonstrative urination. Equally shocking were the low price of the admission tickets and the musical talent of the performers. But most shocking of all was the fact that these rock bitches were obviously having plenty of fun. With unmistakably anarchic verve, they aimed the stream of their urine at the hypocritical morality of male claims to power.

The saucy girls from Sydney, who deliberately wet their panties, are refreshing and fun. They piss in the middle of the road, on a Persian rug, on the hood (or "bonnet") of a car, in the garden, the kitchen and the bedroom. They piss standing tall and erect, just like men. What pointblank provocation! Spontaneous, lustful and uninhibited, they piss on "mind your manners" and "be a good girl," gleefully irrigating the arid status symbols and parched props of civilization.

These photos of feminine anarchy prove that young women are taking the selfconfident and courageous leap from mere fantasy into the actual reality of slender girls' legs in piss-soaked jeans. Coolly, matter-of-factly and with infectious grins, they let go and let that special juice flow. Legions of pretty exhibitionists will surely follow in their footsteps, delighting or dismaying their beholders, exulting in the pleasurable lib-eration of their own lust. After all, who would dare to arrest them? As Georges Batailles said, "Laughter is more divine and even more incomprehensible than tears."

Dr. Eberhard J. Wormer