Flat Mates

Gillian sat in the bus shelter with her flat mate Linda. The party was over, it was late and she had to pee like crazy. Pulling down on her short black mini–dress, she crossed her legs and put her purse in her lap. Linda glanced at her. Gillian smiled and rocked a little. –Got to go, she said.
— Me too, Linda admitted, sitting on the edge of the seat with arched back. Her low–cut jeans revealed red thong panties where her tight sweater didn’t reach.
Gillian rose, hoping standing up would ease the pressure. It didn’t. She rocked on her feet and rubbed her belly. –I really have to go, she said.
Linda just bit her lip and squeezed her knees together.
— And if I go behind those bushes, the bus will come and I’ll miss it. Damn! She took a few rigid steps, craning her neck to look out for the bus.
Linda watched her friend, the long brown hair, the round breasts, the narrow waist and the curved buttocks. She rocked on the seat, very conscious of the tight denim pressing on her bladder, longing to let go.
Gillian sat down again, carefully. –If this takes any longer, I’ll have an accident.
— Don’t talk about it, Linda giggled. –I’m on the verge of bursting myself. God, I never had to pee this bad.
Gillian crossed her tights–clad legs and sighed, fondling her purse. Linda stood up, legs crossed, rocking softly. Gillian could see her friend’s hipbones above her waistband, accentuating her slim shapes. Her bottom was round and even, with no pockets to disturb her curves. Gillian caught herself looking at the top of her friend’s thighs, to see if there were damp spots… She recrossed her legs.
Linda turned. –Have you ever wet yourself? Since you were a kid, I mean?
— Well, actually… Gillian looked at her friend’s crotch, the stretched fabric around her sex, the thighs rubbing softly against each other. –Yes, a couple of years ago. You?
Linda’s hand strayed over her belly. –Me too. So it can happen, right?
— Are you going to…?
— I don’t know. But promise you won’t tell if I do it.
— Sure. I’m nearly leaking myself.
At that moment the bus arrived. The girls got on, treading very carefully, making their way to the back. –Thank God, Gillian said. –Only twenty minutes to go.
— Only? Linda had one hand between her legs. –That’s too long!
— Hold on, girl!
— Gillian?
— Yes?
— Will you hold my hand?
Gillian gripped her friend’s hand, squeezing for support. As the bus swayed she felt something almost give, but she clenched her muscles and stayed dry– for now. She slipped her other hand under her dress, cupping her swollen nylon crotch.
Linda wriggled in her seat. Suddenly she pressed both hands between her legs, still holding on to Gillian, who suddenly found herself gripping her friend’s crotch. It felt hot. Moving her fingers she felt the moisture.
— You’ve wet yourself, Linda, she whispered.
— Only a few drops, she whispered back. –Couldn’t hold it.
Gillian longed to let go too; she had to refrain from just spreading her legs and soaking the seat. She sat on her hand, knees clenched. After ages of agony the bus halted, and the girls supported each other through the aisle. Still holding, still crossing their legs they watched the bus move on.
— Okay, Gillian said, trying to take control. –Where can we go?
Linda looked desperately about, tousling her hair, biting her lip. –In our pants?
— Linda, don’t! Gillian bent almost double with giggling. –Careful, or I will! Look, there’s a hedge over there!
Stepping gingerly, toes inward, they approached the gate. With relief so close, Linda’s muscles started to relax and she felt a spurt. She fumbled with her button and zipper, butt swaying, just beginning to pull her jeans down as they heard a voice.
— What the hell do you think you’re doing? Get out of my garden!
Pulling desperately at her jeans Linda stumbled out of the gate, followed by an equally flustered Gillian with her tights and panties at mid–thigh. Outside they didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, or to just give in and pee themselves. Linda pulled up her zipper, leaving the button open over her extended bladder. Gillian pulled her panties back up, the wetness making her realize the surprise had made her squirt. Holding her wet crotch she looked at Linda. –I don’t care anymore. I’m going to let it flow.
— I’m going behind that car, Linda said. –I’m not walking half a mile with soaked jeans. Please look out for me!
She staggered in between the cars, ripped her jeans down and squatted. The flow started immediately, a hard golden stream splashing the asphalt. On seeing and hearing her friend pee, Gillian sighed, gripped her purse and released her own pee in her panties, feeling the hot liquid run down her legs and soak her shoes.VLinda didn’t bother waiting for the last drop, she pulled up her jeans while she still was dribbling, sighing contentedly, smiling at Gillian who rubbed her wet legs together and returned her relieved smile. –Okay, Gilly; feeling better?
— Apart from being totally soaked like a little girl, I’m wonderful. You know, that little dark rose in your crotch does look rather sexy.
Linda pulled a few strands of hair from her friend’s face and stroked her cheek. –Well, you looked kind of ecstatic yourself, going in your panties. Let’s go home!
*
Gillian got first use of the bathroom when they arrived home. She stood in front of the mirror, lifting her dress, looking at the wet crescent stretching down her legs. She touched herself, shivering a little from the feeling of the now cold pee against her skin. I could warm myself up again, she thought. There is still more. She relaxed and watched as a little shiny river grew from her. A little embarrassed she removed her soaked clothes, then washed and dried herself. She put on clean white panties and her favorite faded jeans, and then called out to Linda.
Linda stood in her jeans, wet spot clearly visible, removing her makeup. Gillian sat on the edge of the bathtub, watching her, admiring her small breasts, nipples visible; her flat belly, her cute bottom, her long legs, her tousled blonde hair. Gillian felt a slight throbbing in her sex from holding so long, or from the relief, or from something else… She rose and stood behind Linda, eyes meeting in the mirror. Then Linda turned away and reached for a towel on the shelf. –I think I’ll shower. Is there any beer or cider left?
A little bit disappointed – at what? – Gillian left for the kitchen. She fetched a couple of cans and sat down in a chair. Linda appeared, still drying her hair, dressed in tight black stretch pants and a halter–top. She threw herself on the sofa, legs spread. –Well, Gilly, how does it feel?
— Right now, it just makes me giggle. But it was really awful at the time.
— All the time?
Gillian noticed the look in Linda’s eyes. –Actually, no. If you want to know, it felt incredibly good to let my pee run down my legs. How about you?
— If I had known you were going to wet yourself, I would have done it, too.
Their eyes met. Gillian raised her can, and they drank.
— Sit by me, Linda said.
Gillian obliged, curling her legs under her, sipping cider. Linda touched her knee. –Tell me about that time it happened before, will you?
Gillian looked down at the soft hand touching her leg. –I was at this party, she said softly. –I drank too much and, well, passed out on the couch.
— What were you wearing, Linda interrupted.
— Oh – beige jeans, I think. Yes. Red sweater.
— Okay, Linda smiled. –I can picture you. Yes?
— I awoke, totally desperate. I believe I was dreaming about going to the loo or something – anyway, it was just like tonight. Absolutely bursting. And I didn’t know where I was. Everybody had left or gone to bed, and I couldn’t remember where the toilet was. I had trouble locating the door. Can you see me? Tears in my eyes, both hands between my curled legs, feeling the warmth spreading around my bottom. I managed to stop the flow and staggered out, dripping, holding myself. I found the exit, and out on the street I was totally bewildered, didn’t know which direction to go. I sat down on the stairs and, well, let go. I couldn’t get any wetter. It was quite embarrassing walking home in wet jeans, but fortunately the streets were empty.
Gillian looked at her friend who was listening with wide eyes. –That’s my story, Linda. How about you?
Linda rested her arm on the back of the sofa and fingered Gillian’s hair. –I was out in a small boat once, she said. –Me and four friends, we were going to a small island to bathe and barbecue. This was on our way back; that is– after a number of soft drinks. Then the outboard stopped, and we had to row. The half–hour trip stretched to two hours. I was wearing yellow cotton shorts, more like hot pants, getting fuller and fuller, crossing and uncrossing my legs, watching the shore coming closer oh so slowly. I told one of the girls, and she confessed to the same problem, saying she’d rather pee herself than perch on the rail for all to see. Eventually she eased the skirt from under her and winked at me as she let go in her panties. I don’t think anybody noticed as the spray from the oars had wet the inside of the boat. But I had hot pants on, and everything would be visible. So I held on until my muscles just gave up and I started to dribble. No matter how I clenched and even held myself I couldn’t stop it. So there I sat, ten minutes from shore, completely soaked. And of course everybody noticed, although they didn’t make fun of it.
Gillian leaned against Linda’s hand, the stroking sending shivers through her. She had to pee again, and the pressure along with Linda’s story aroused her. She held her belly and smiled. –I wish I had been on that boat.
Linda rubbed her neck and looked her in the eyes. –Kiss me, she said. Gillian leaned over and touched her lips to her friend’s. The softness made her tingle. She did it again, this time feeling a tongue against her lips. She opened her mouth. Linda’s hand touched her leg. She put her own hand on Linda’s hip. Then Linda put both hands behind her neck and drew her closer. –Seeing you pee yourself made me horny, Linda whispered. –I almost came in the shower.
— I would have loved to watch that.
Linda drew her close again. –You can if you want to. She slipped a hand under Gillian’s t–shirt, rubbing her belly.
— If you keep on doing that I’ll pee my pants, Gillian whispered.
— I wouldn’t mind.
They kissed again, Gillian nearly letting go in her jeans. She edged closer to Linda, soft breasts meeting. –Come, Linda whispered, pulling her up, leading her to the bathroom. Inside they embraced, holding each other, rubbing crotch against crotch. –I want you to soak your jeans, Linda said after a long, wet kiss. –Right now.
Without breaking the embrace Gillian released her warm urine, feeling the heat spreading around her bottom and down her legs. Sighing with pleasure she held Linda’s buttocks, tracing the shape of her thong. –Now you, she said happily. –No, wait. Let me watch. She stepped back, noticing Linda’s eyes widen at the sight of her wet jeans. She knelt in front of her, stroking her hips, moving her hands to the front, following the shape of Linda’s sex with the tips of her fingers. The tight fabric revealed her swollen lips between her slightly clenched thighs. She motioned Linda to spread her legs, and she stood feet apart while Gillian explored her crotch.
Linda moaned and shuddered, and suddenly Gillian saw a small dark spot grow between Linda’s legs. Fascinated she watched as the spot grew to a shiny river running down both her legs. She cupped her friend’s sex, getting pee all over her hand. As the flow slowed, she slipped her hand down inside her pants, catching the last drops directly on her fingers. Without a word both girls undressed, standing naked in front of each other, smelling softly of girl pee and arousal.
— Make love to me, Linda said.
Gillian stepped forward.
Aquarius