Walking Home

Jennie was walking home through the silent streets, her face flushed from dancing and enjoying herself. Dressed in dark stretch pants and a black top exposing her midriff, with her shoulder–length brown hair waving ever so slightly with her steps. Time and again she touched her belly with her hand. The guys were OK, she had been on the floor almost all night, and she knew she didn’t have to go anywhere alone afterwards if she didn’t want to. But she had other desires.Actually, she would have preferred dancing close to another girl; feeling breasts against her own and a rounded bottom under her hands. The tingling sensations made her squeeze her legs together as she walked. She had slept with boys, and enjoyed it too, but in her dreams there was always another girl. Soft kisses, fingers stroking bellies, hard nipples, and careful hands between her legs… Jennie slipped two fingers under her waistband and felt the elastic of her panties. Soon, now. She had had a few drinks, none of them strong, and was feeling a little bit tipsy. She also needed the bathroom. Quite soon, in fact. When did she discover her secret pleasure? She didn’t remember. Maybe when she was about thirteen, when she and her best friend Lisa sat up half the night in bed, giggling and whispering, and not daring to go to the bathroom in case anybody heard and ordered them to go to sleep. And the pressure in her bladder added to the excitement and made her squirm and touch herself outside her pajama pants, until they could hold on no more and tiptoed through the dark house, hands between legs, almost crying with relief when they reached the toilet. Lisa wet herself when she was sixteen, at an open–air concert. She didn’t want to leave her place so close to the stage, so she crossed her legs and tried to hold on. She grabbed Jennie’s hand for support: –Jen, I’m bursting! Jennie felt the tingling between the legs again, and looked at her friend in the tan shorts and tight t–shirt squeezing her knees together. –Jen, I’m going to go in my pants. I’m not leaving now! –Just let go, Jennie said, and Lisa held on to her while she let the warm pee run down her legs. It was an image Jennie could never forget. Later, she wondered what it was like, peeing herself. She always liked to hold on, to wait as long as she could, before reaching the bathroom or finding a secluded place. One day she just did it. After watching TV for a couple of hours, she really needed to go. She let her hand glide down the front of her tight jeans and imagined Lisa at the concert. Big girl – peeing her pants! I’m a big girl, too, she thought. Shall I pee my pants? She stood up, stretched, ran a hand over her nipples, and nearly let go. She walked to the bathroom carefully, holding herself and squeezing. Inside, she stood in front of the mirror, holding, holding, and feeling the excitement grow. She let her breath out and wet herself for the first time. After that, she had done it in front of Lisa a couple of times, and one crazy night they had acted thirteen again, but this time wet their nightclothes and felt each other’s sexes afterwards. Two years ago, Lisa had moved to another town. Now, at twenty–three, she had lost count of the number of times she had wet herself. She walked slowly, savoring the pressure and the aching muscles, feeling the tight fabric hug her belly and crotch, longing to let go. Not yet. Well, she was a big, sensible girl; she could just nip behind a hedge or a parked car, pull down her pants and thong and relieve herself without wetting her clothes. On the other hand, she could stop right there, pee her pants, and walk on home. She put a hand to her tummy and gave a little sigh. “Jennie!” She heard someone. Oh no. She didn’t want to talk to anyone right now. “–Jen! Stop!” She turned. –Lisa! Her friend ran towards her with a big grin and arms outstretched. They embraced, Jennie feeling a small squirt escape from pure joy at the meeting. “–God, Lisa, I’m so happy to see you I just wet my pants.” “–Oh, Jen, don’t say it! I’m nearly exploding myself!” Jennie held her friend at arm’s length and looked at her. Long golden hair, blue minidress that clung to her body and hinted at a pair of hotpant–style panties. Lisa wriggled her hips and crossed her legs. “–Jen! What do I do?” “–Come,” Jennie said and put her arms around her. “–We’ll go to my house and spend the night together. I have some wine. And dry clothes.” She led her friend to a bench under some trees. “–But first, we’ll sit here and pee in our panties.” Jennie sat down and spread her legs. Lisa sat on her lap, exposing her maroon panties. Jennie touched her tenderly. “–Go now.” Lisa sighed, and Jennie felt the heat on her hand. This was going to be a good night.
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