Bridget's Discovery

I awoke when Bridget returned home from a night with the girls. She crawled into bed with her clothes on, smelling of warm girl, beer and soft perfume. Without hesitation she reached for me under the sheets, and even half asleep I reacted immediately. I slid my hands up her thighs and encountered a soaking wet crotch under her dress. She turned me over on my back – Bridget is a big, strong girl – and slid her dress over her hips. With one hand she tore her tights and panties down to her knees and sank down on me. She held her belly while she moved intensely, sighed, moaned, and came more quickly than she had ever done before. Before I even came close she slid off and ran to the bathroom. It all happened so fast I was not even sure I was awake. I heard her on the toilet, and, wondering what this was all about – fell asleep. She lay beside me, warm and naked as I awoke. I sensed the smell of her sex and realized the strange event in the night was not a dream. I lifted the sheets and looked at her. Twenty–eight years old, light blonde hair to her shoulder blades, strong, shapely body, and a fair, bushy triangle between her legs. I put my hand on it, thinking: “Now it’s my turn.” She awoke slowly, looked drowsily at me, opened her eyes wide and buried her face in my neck.“Hello,” I said, “What’s going on?” “I just had to have you John,” she told my collarbone. “Nice to be of help,” I laughed. “Tell me, did you meet anybody yesterday, turning you on?” She shook her head. “Just remembered we hadn’t had sex for two days?” Shaking her head again. I stroked her back. “It’s so embarrassing,” she whispered. “What? Wanting to have sex with me?” “No. Not that.” “Then tell me, Biddy.” “Dare not.” “Biddy!” “I wet myself.” “What?” “I peed my panties, John. Going home. Couldn’t help it. Walking alone, really having to go, curling my legs, and there was nowhere I could hide. And I was horny too, it was completely crazy, wanting you so desperately and needing to pee so desperately, and then I just did it. While walking, urine was running down my legs. So embarrassing!” “It’s OK. Anybody can have an accident like that.” “But it made me so horny! That’s the embarrassing part. Like a little girl holding it because it feels good, and finally letting go feels so good – because she doesn’t know what sex is yet. I’m a big girl, a woman, and a grown–up woman doesn’t wet herself to feel good.” “Biddy?” She almost didn’t lift her head. “Everything is allowed. Don’t be ashamed. If you want to pee, then pee. If you want to hold it, hold it. Have you ever felt like that before?” Bridget nodded. “I love making love with a full bladder. But I’ve always been able to hold it! And I’ve never wet myself before. Not outside. Not…” “Not what?” “Nothing.” “Not outside, but?” She buried her head again. “Won’t tell.” “Sweetheart. Don’t be ashamed.” “Last week,” she whispered. “When you were away. I was watching TV and – really had to go and – it just happened. Had to wash my jeans.” “And?” “No!” “Biddy…” “I went to the bathroom and took off my jeans. I could really see through my panties, they were so wet. And I still had to go. So I sat down on the bowl with my panties still on.” I had an incredible erection. “You turn me on Biddy,” I whispered in her hair. “Don’t feel bad. This is the most arousing thing you’ve ever told me.” “Think so?” I let her feel it. “You don’t think I’m completely crazy?” “Not at all, love. I wish I had seen it.” “Oh no!” “Oh yes. I’d love to see you wet your pants. Especially as you seem to react in a very special way.” She turned to me and pressed herself against me. “I want you,” she said. “Hold on. Maybe you’d like a cup of tea first?” She looked wonderingly at me before she understood. She swallowed. “Thanks, John. And maybe a glass of water.” I rose and made tea. Buttered a couple of sandwiches, too, filled a jug with iced water and brought it all to bed. Bridget was thirsty, and a little bit hungry as well, and we acted normally and tried not to think about what might happen. “I have to pee,” Bridget said after a while. I put my hand on her, and she rose to meet me. “Come on,” I said, pulling her out of bed. “Get dressed.” She looked at me with big, warm eyes and rubbed her belly. Then she picked bra and panties from her drawer, and pulled on tight black pants and a blue sweater. Her rounded shapes stretched the fabric, and she pirouetted, enjoying my appreciation. “I have to pee,” she repeated. “I really have to pee.” I held her, stroking her breasts and belly, and slid my hand between her legs. She was heavy against my hand, breathing audibly. “I want you,” she said, crossing her legs. “God, I’ve got to go.” She moved around, rubbing her hips. “John, I’m almost wetting my pants.” She squatted, knees apart. I sat down beside her and rubbed her butt. “Should I let go? No, I’ll try to hold on.” I kissed her. She stood up, knees tightly together, making small curtsies. “I’m going to wet my pants. Touch me!” I rubbed her crotch. She moaned: “I’m wetting my pants! Rub my breasts!” I fondled them through her sweater. “Want me to pee myself, John?” “Pee in your pants, love!” “Oh John I’m peeing! I can’t hold it!” She was almost dancing as the dark stain grew in her crotch. She fought to stop it, and she stood cross–legged, holding on for dear life. I unzipped her and felt her wet panties. She released another squirt as I touched her clit, and she held me hard. “Take me! Oh God I’m peeing my pants! Quick!” She tore her pants off and fell back on the bed, legs apart. Her panties were soaking wet. She pulled up her sweater and squeezed her nipples, and pee flowed again. I lay on top of her, pulling her panties aside, and entered her. It was hot and wet and wonderful, she pushed her belly against me, and this time we both came. The sheets were soaked. “Christ, John, that’s the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had. And now I really have to pee.” She lifted herself on her elbows and smiled at me. “Big girl wetting the bed. And I’m still bursting. Help me up!” I pulled her up and helped her to the bathroom. She held her crotch, trembling. Instead of sitting on the toilet she chose the shower, standing with legs spread, peeing through her panties. I felt myself rise again. Bridget pulled the sweater over her head. “Once more!”
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