Sisters

We married quite young; I was twenty–one and Tracy was twenty. I had admired her shapely body in the tight jeans for some time before things fell into place and we started dating. We got married within a year.
I first met her sister at the wedding. Lynn was eighteen with a slender body, usually dressed in tight, short dresses and skirts, or leggings and t–shirt. Tracy didn’t mind me noticing her sister. Isn’t she cute? She used to say, “don’t you just love her?” Not as much as I love you, was my truthful answer.
The summer after the wedding we spent two weeks at Tracy’s family’s summerhouse by the sea. One day Lynn turned up unexpectedly. “Time to check out the happy couple,” she said. “Still in love?”
— Don’t mind her, Tracy said. –She’s just jealous.
— Does she fancy me? I asked, confused.
— No, it’s me, Tracy answered. She told me more when Lynn was unpacking the supplies. –We have always been very close. Very close. I hope it may continue that way.
She had brought plenty of beer and snacks, and we sat on the rocks by the sea, enjoying the warm breeze. I looked at the sisters: Tracy well rounded, in painted–on cutoff denim shorts and halter–top, shoulder–length brown hair flowing free. Lynn slimmer, but with marked butt and belly in a skin–tight mini dress, blonde hair in a ponytail. She sat as if she was wearing trousers, with legs everywhere, showing black panties.
After a couple of beers Tracy started rubbing her legs together. I know the signs; in fact the sexy squeezing of the legs was the first thing I noticed about her. Let it be sufficient to say that we had discovered mutual interests. She smiled at me and winked, knowing it aroused me.
— Got to go, Trace? Lynn asked.
— Not yet, Sis.
— Well, I’m nearly bursting. She slid one hand up her leg to rest it against her crotch, cocking her head and looking at Tracy.
— You go, then, Tracy said. –Unless you want to wet your panties right here.
Lynn stood up, still holding herself, and walked out of sight. I admit to seeing a certain image in my mind.
Tracy reached out to me and kissed me. –I know what you are thinking. Isn’t she sweet? We had a lot of fun right here when we were little girls, prancing around naked, peeing when we needed to, even having holding contests or seeing who could pee the farthest.
Lynn returned, smoothing her dress. –God, that was nice. She opened another beer and sat down.
Tracy was rocking softly, rubbing her belly. –Remember our games, Sis?
— Oh yeah. Two mugs of lemonade, and the one who lost it had to give the other a gift. Tracy used to win.
— Just because you loved wetting yourself, right? You always had that blissful expression when the wee ran down your legs. And you never bothered to pull your panties down either, you just squatted and let go. Always wet under your skirt.
Lynn smiled. –Right. You don’t think I’ve stopped doing that, do you?
— Sis, did you? –
She spread her legs. –Of course I did.
Lynn’s black panties were soaked. Tracy bit her lip and squeezed her hand between her legs. –I’m nearly wetting myself too.
— Go on girl– don’t be shy. I’m sure John has seen you pee before. I certainly have.
Tracy squirmed, then stood up, wriggled her shorts and panties down, squatted, and let go. Both Lynn and I looked at her exposed sex and the golden stream. Lynn had a hand between her legs.
Tracy pulled her pants back on. –Are you shocked, John?
I shook my head.
— We’ve always been like this. Since we became aware of the pleasure of peeing. We found out that it was even better to share it with somebody, and who is closer than your own sister? We used to have accidents all the time, and if I wet myself, Lynn let go too to share the feeling.
— Remember the first time we slept here alone? Lynn asked. –We were so scared. I was fourteen and you were sixteen, and we were reading horror stories, getting totally frightened, hiding under the blankets.
— Lynn wanted to sleep with me, Tracy said. –We cuddled up in my bed in our pajamas, holding each other, listening for sounds of the wind and rustling trees. Of course we had to pee after all the soft drinks. I didn’t want to go, Lynn didn’t want to go. I stroked her back to comfort her, and she pressed against me. It felt so good, and I stroked her lower down, feeling her butt under my hand.
— I just wanted to wee right then, Lynn continued. –And I wanted to touch Tracy. So I put my hand between her legs for the first time, sensing her warm wetness through the pajama pants. She had dribbled a bit.
— Feeling her soft hand made me wee a little, Tracy confessed. –I kept on caressing her bottom, and kissed her, and then slid my hand under the elastic and found her pussy. I stroked her carefully, sliding my finger in her wetness, doing what I’d been doing to myself for some months.
— I couldn’t help it, Lynn said. –I wet her bed. I soaked her hand, my pajamas and the sheets.
— I loved the warmth, Tracy remembered. –The hot girl pee on my hand. So I just closed my eyes and peed as well. We were cold when we awoke, but by then our courage had come back and we moved over to Lynn’s bed and slept on.
— But not before we had peed again, Lynn smiled.
Tracy popped open three more beers, and we drank. –Did you bring the camera, she asked.
— Of course, I said, jumping up to fetch it. The girls stood, holding hands, looking expectantly at me. –Just pretend I’m not here.
Tracy turned to her sister. –Want a kiss?
Lynn nodded. Click.
— I love your tits, Sis. May I?
Hands on breasts. Click.
Lynn lifted her dress revealing her panties. Click. Tracy rubbed herself gently while bending her knees. Click. –Got to pee again, she said.
— Me too. Please hold me.
Tracy stood behind Lynn, reaching in front and holding her crotch. Click. Lynn turning, was embracing, and kissing. Click. Legs rubbing, hips swaying, Tracy lifted a foot to help her holding. Click. Lynn pressing a hand to her tummy, legs curling, longing in her eyes. Click. Tracy standing with legs apart. –Watch me, Sis.
Click.
Lynn squatting beside her sister, legs opened wide, golden stream. Click.
Kissing again, rubbing wet crotches, Lynn shivering and moaning as she comes.
Tracy and I left for the bedroom.
Later we decided to go for a beer. Half an hour’s walk away was the local dance hall, this was a Friday and the girls were ready for a party. Lynn was dressed in a strapless top and an incredibly tight, short denim skirt, barely covering her white panties when she stood. Not at all when she bent over. Tracy was wearing a loose–fit white cotton pantsuit; so thin–woven her red underwear was showing clearly. The girls held hands walking through the woods, I was behind them admiring Lynn’s bouncy little butt and Tracy’s rounder shapes moving under the thin fabric. Halfway we stopped for a pee, watching each other.
We found a table in the corner, ordered drinks, talked. The girls danced. I danced with Tracy, feeling her belly pushing against me. –Christ, I’m getting tipsy, she giggled. –Almost wet my pants right now. Get me a beer, will you?
Tracy and Lynn were on the floor again. Tracy squeezing her legs together, Lynn pressing on her bladder while wriggling her own hips and brushing her hand under the front of her skirt. Returning to the table, holding hands, curtsying. –We got to go to the little girls’ room! Or else we’ll pee our panties! Half dancing away butts swinging.
New round came, with Tracy getting a little unsteady. Holding on to me as we dance. Stumbling, grabbing, while looking at me: –John, I’m wet. I couldn’t stop it.
— Want to leave?
She stumbled again. –I think we better go. Sorry.
She insisted on finishing her beer anyway. We left, Tracy in the middle for support. –Got to pee, she mumbled.
— There’s a line at the loo, said Lynn. –Let’s go.
Stepping unsteadily home, occasionally stopping, holding herself, Tracy was bending her knees. She put her arms around me and rubbed her legs together. –Sorry, John. God, I’ve got to go.
— Not far now, I said, and led her on. Lynn took her other arm.
Fifty yards from the house Tracy stopped, legs wobbly. –I’m peeing myself.
— Need help to undress? Lynn asked.
— Too late, she sobbed. The white cotton fabric turned dark as she let go. She swayed, sighing with relief as the pee streamed down her legs. I saw Lynn biting her lip as she watched, hand under skirt. –Let’s put her to bed, she said. –Before the same thing happens to me.
Then Tracy collapsed in my arms. I lifted her up and carried her inside; warm, wet butt against my arm. –Wait, Lynn said, –she’ll probably wet the bed. Better put on the rubber sheets.
I held Tracy while Lynn made up the bed, skirt hugging her cute little bum, exposing white panties as she bent over. We laid her sister down, removed her top and wet pants, and tucked her in.
I looked at Lynn. She was wriggling slowly with a prominent bulge where her bladder stretched the fabric. –Let’s go outside, John.
She sat on the bench on the terrace, rubbing knees, looking at me, saying nothing. I stared at her slender legs, the angle of her hip, the girlish belly, and the pert breasts. Found my eyes drawn to the tiny hint of white under an inch of skirt.
— I know what you’re thinking, John.
— I… –
— It’s OK. I feel the same. But we just can’t.
— I know.
— But I’ll do something for you, if you want to watch.
All I could do was nod.
— Get me a beer, please.
I raced for the cooler, popped it, and gave her. She drank nearly all of it, paused, and downed the rest. –I’ve got to pee, she said. –But I won’t. You like that?
Nod again.
— I’m nearly bursting now. Nearly wetting myself. Just like Tracy. My fanny is all swollen from holding it in. God, I have to pee. She stood up, wriggling, biting her lip, and holding her belly. –It’s almost coming now. She walked a few paces, tripping, holding herself like a little girl. –I can’t hold it any more.
She stuck her butt out, hands jammed between her legs. –Ooh, I’m almost weeing my panties. John, I can’t wait! She sat gingerly down again, almost trembling. She tried to pull the skirt down another inch, without succeeding. She crossed and uncrossed her legs, and suddenly froze. I knelt down in front of her, staring.
Then the dam burst.
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