Ingrid's Interrupted Plan

Ingrid didn’t really remember how it started. Probably some time in early childhood, when she discovered that putting off going to the little girls’ room caused a mix between pain and pleasure that made her tingle all over. Like everybody else she peed in the sea when she had to, but eventually she always was careful to avoid the toilet before going to the beach. From just letting go under water, she began releasing her urine as she waded in, feeling the warm wetness in her bathing suit seconds before the water reached her crotch. Lingering in the shower after exercises at school, she let it run down her legs when nobody could see her. Soaking in the tub at home, she spread her legs as the water drained, looking down at the golden stream, touching herself afterwards.
At about twelve or thirteen she used to spend her holidays at her family’s cabin in the forest. Going for long walks alone, she enjoyed the feeling of her bladder filling up, and the freedom of peeing wherever she wanted. Pulling down her sweatpants and panties, letting the stream flow. Sometimes removing her garments completely, squatting to pee with legs wide open. Wearing a skirt, she removed her panties to be able to go standing up.
When she was eighteen, she saw a girl wet herself at a party. Quite drunk, laughing and joking, she danced around with her hand between her legs until some silly comment made her bend over with mirth. When she straightened up her jeans were wet. And she didn’t care.
Ingrid’s mouth was dry and she couldn’t take her eyes off the girl. Later that night she lay between her sheets, stroking herself, imagining herself in the same situation.
And now she was going to deliberately wet herself. Finally installed in her new apartment, she realized that nobody would check her laundry or interrupt her privacy.
She had never had an accident; although she had been close a couple of times. The desperation had made her feel helpless and without control, but thinking back she almost wished it had happened. Now was the time.
Ingrid looked at herself in the big mirror. She saw a medium–height girl with straight blonde hair, blue eyes and a pretty smile. Her hands went to her breasts, touching her nipples through her top and bra. She saw the faded jeans hug her rounded hips and her soft belly above them. She drank more Evian. She was twenty–two, had a job and a nice place to live, and was about to pee her jeans for the first time. Rubbing her knees together she stepped into her living room where a big mug of tea was waiting for her. She had spent most of the day unpacking, placing books on shelves and sorting her kitchenware. Drinking cokes and tea, filling up, waiting. Squatting in front of her cupboards she really felt the pressure, but still she was holding it. Stretching to reach the upper shelf she felt her top lift to reveal more of her belly, and she put her hand on her soft skin, feeling her expanded bladder.
She filled her mug again. Now she had to cross her legs. She walked around looking for places to put her pictures, but found it hard to concentrate. She wondered if it all would come bursting out, or if she would just start to trickle. The thought made her bend a little in the waist to keep it from coming. Maybe it was better if she sat down.
Ingrid perched on the edge of the table, back arched, knees pressed tightly together. She was amazed at her ability to hold it, as the pain had been considerable for quite a long time. She squeezed her breasts in anticipation. Feeling the pressure ease she rose, forcing herself to stand with her feet apart, stretching her body, exposing more of her midriff, conscious of the hard bladder inside her. Still she held on. She reached for the bottle again and drank. A sudden spasm caused her to jam her hand between her legs, clutching herself. She was biting her lip; her heart was pounding beneath her breasts, waiting for release.
It didn’t come. Ingrid was surprised at the time it took, from the start of the feeling of impending crisis over an hour ago. She had never thought she could hold it this long. Hand still in crotch; she walked a few steps, knees as close together as possible. Again the pressure got nearly unbearable, her body swayed and she had to bend over. Would she splash all over the floor? She could almost picture the yellow fluid working its way down the tract, nearly reaching the gusset of her white cotton panties.
She had to sit down. With her Levi’s butt pointing out she wriggled over to a wooden chair, lowering herself as tenderly as she could, getting a few moments of respite. Slowly she parted her legs and looked at the worn denim stretching over her pussy. Still dry. What was it going to look like? Taking another swig from the bottle she rose with difficulty, deciding to look at herself in the mirror again. She tried to walk normally, but stumbled on a rug.
Her crotch felt warm. She touched herself, and bit her lip as she felt the warm wetness. It was happening. She couldn’t feel the leaking, but the growing rose between her legs told her of her yielding muscles. Ingrid hobbled to the bathroom. Black rivulets found their way down her legs although she had no feeling of peeing. Looking at herself she put her hand on her belly, pressing slightly. She was amazed to see the dark river growing, as if she was squeezing a soft bottle. She was still clenching her muscles, but obviously the pressure had outgrown her efforts. Ingrid was peeing herself, and she couldn’t stop it. She decided to let go. Moaning from pain and pleasure she watched the river turn into a waterfall, soaking her legs. After a few seconds she tried to stop the flow, squeezing and releasing until the dribble stopped. She drew her breath, relaxed, and immediately felt a few drops escape. But now she was in control again. She turned to look at her butt, feeling sexy in her soaked jeans, enjoying the soft smell of pee and the warmth between her legs. She went back to the living room, saying aloud to an imaginary friend: –Look, I have wet my jeans! I couldn’t hold it any more!
Leaving small drops on the floor she returned to the bathroom. Slipping her hand down the front of her jeans she found that the pressure made her leak again. She unbuttoned her Levi’s and cupped her crotch, feeling the warm urine dribble over her fingers. What to do? In a way she felt disappointed, as she couldn’t get any wetter. And she didn’t want to finish off with an orgasm just yet. She wriggled out of her soaked jeans and panties and dried herself. Feeling the pressure increase again she held the towel beneath her legs and felt the heaviness as it absorbed her pee. Stopping the flow – which wasn’t easy – she threw the towel on the floor and entered her bedroom. She might as well fill the washing machine. From her closet she fetched black nylon panties and bra, tan tights, a black velvet blouse and a small black miniskirt. Keeping her legs as close together as possible she dressed, finishing with light make–up and a ribbon in her hair. Ready to party – alone. A rarely used pair of high–heeled shoes completed the outfit.
Ingrid smoothed her very short skirt in front of the bathroom mirror. Her clothing made her feel very feminine; although she looked great in jeans, the revealing skirt did something to her posture that made people turn their heads. Who am I seducing, she thought. Myself? OK, yes. –I want to see that woman wet herself, she said aloud.
Automatically she clenched her legs, feeling herself fill up again. With care she went into the living room after stocking up on tea and Evian. With a stack of magazines she settled in her sofa to await her body’s needs.
The doorbell rang.
The unexpected sound seemed to travel from her ears to her bladder in an instant. As she rose she felt her crotch and encountered a small wet spot. She pulled at her skirt and opened the door.
— Congratulations on your new apartment! Her friend Katie held up a six–pack of cider. –Let’s celebrate!
Thoughts raced through Ingrid’s head. Resenting the interruption, she also welcomed the visit. Katie was an acquaintance from work, a likeable girl who had showed Ingrid the city nightlife when she moved here a year ago. Katie was twenty–five, with brown shoulder–length hair and a slim body dressed in black stretch jeans and a short blue sweater.
Smiling she opened the door. –Come on in!
Katie looked around. –Nice! Miles from that dump you first landed in. Where’s the bathroom? I’m simply bursting.
Oh my God the soaked jeans. –Oh. Sorry, can I go first? I was just going when you rang, and I – She trailed off as she felt a small trickle, and involuntary clutched herself. She turned from a surprised Katie and hobbled off. Inside she picked up her jeans, panties and towel while she squeezed her pussy to help holding it. She stuffed the wet garments in her laundry basket before wriggling down her panties and tights and dumping her butt on the seat. She let her breath out as the stream poured into the bowl.
Wiping and redressing, she ignored the palm–sized stain in her panties and emerged smiling at Katie. –Sorry about that. Guess I’d been putting it off for too long.
— I know, Katie said. –I’ve had some close experiences myself. I’d better go before I soak myself.
Ingrid watched Katie’s shapely bottom as she slipped through the door. I wouldn’t mind, she thought to herself.
The girls started on the cider. Ingrid found she had to rush to the bathroom when she filled up again; obviously her muscles were exhausted from the long holding. Sitting on the toilet she felt a slight buzz from the drinks paired with an unfulfilled sexual desire. A strange vision of herself and Katie flooded through her mind and made her rub her legs together. She brushed her hair and blew a kiss at herself in the mirror.
Katie popped the last can of cider. –Where did it all go? She asked.
— Down the toilet, I guess, Ingrid smiled. I’ve got a few beers.
— Say, why don’t we nip down to the pub for a few drinks. We could always come back here later and finish the rest.
— Fine with me.
They finished the cider. Ingrid rose. Ready?
— Let’s pee first. I hate public toilets. They both headed for the bathroom, colliding in the doorway, giggling as they held on to each other. Katie made way for Ingrid, and then followed her in. Ingrid went first, wriggling her panties down under her skirt while Katie watched, rocking slightly on her feet. Then Katie unbuttoned her jeans, revealing a lacy red thong, which she wriggled down so slowly as to let Ingrid see her lack of pubic hair. She sighed contentedly as the stream hit the bowl.
The pub was half full. They ordered pints and found a table in the corner. Before long a couple of guys drifted over, obviously waiting to be asked to sit. After avoiding their stare for a while Katie looked up. –Yes?
One of them pointed to a chair. –Mind if we…
— Yes, we mind. There are a lot of vacant places.
— Well, we thought that the two of you alone…
— We’re not alone. We’re together. Actually, we’re lesbians.
Katie turned to Ingrid and kissed her full on the mouth. The boys left in a hurry.
— Wow, Ingrid said, blushing slightly. That was… effective.
— The kiss, or the brushing–off?
— Well, both, I guess.
Katie stroked Ingrid’s cheek. –I’m not in the mood for random humping tonight. Why don’t you and I have some fun?
Ingrid nodded, feeling the color rise in her cheeks and the tingling in her sex increase.
Katie smiled. –If you don’t mind having your tits fondled by another girl.
Ingrid shook her head and parted her legs a little. All of a sudden the need to pee hit her, and she pushed her hand between her thighs. –Katie, I’m almost wetting my panties!
Katie made way. –I’ll think of you, sitting there, she whispered.
Ingrid walked as fast as she could, but there was no mistaking the warmth enfolding her crotch. The harsh light in the restroom revealed small rivulets down the inside of her legs. Torn between embarrassment and lust she struggled with her underwear before hovering over the seat and letting go. There was no point in wiping.
— My panties are wet, she confessed to Katie as she returned. –Couldn’t hold it.
— It happens to everybody, Katie smiled. –I think it’s cute.
Relaxed, Ingrid sat down, not caring that her skirt would get a stain. –Another beer?
Katie went to the bar. Ingrid admired her graceful movements, the way the tight fabric divided her buttocks, and the red lace showing above her waistline. Yes, she wanted to have her tits fondled by another girl.
On the way home Katie took her hand. –Still up for some girl–to–girl necking?
Ingrid smiled. –And some fondling?
— Oh yes. I can’t wait to get my hands on those tits.
Ingrid could almost feel the soft hands on her already, and clenched her thighs in anticipation. God, she had to pee again. –I’m bursting, she giggled, putting her hand between her legs.
Katie stopped, turned and put her arms around her. –Ready for some fondling?
She didn’t wait for an answer, but slid her hands up Ingrid’s back under her blouse, then moved them forward until she had her breasts cupped. –So, what turns you on, girlfriend?
— Anything you want, Ingrid whispered, clutching herself, parting her lips to receive Katie’s kiss. Clenching her muscles she embraced Katie, feeling the lace of her thong above her waistline, stroking her bottom. –You have a beautiful butt, Katie.
Katie pressed her thigh between Ingrid’s legs. –I can’t wait to feel your finger in my butt hole.
The insistent pressure made Ingrid moan. –I’m almost wetting my panties thinking about you naked.
— Know what? I don’t mind if you pee your panties. Actually I get incredibly horny by just thinking about it.
Ingrid responded by kissing her hotly, tongue exploring her friend’s lips. The thrill made her release a small stream down her thighs. She crossed her legs and pressed her belly against Katie’s. –I’m leaking, she whispered. –Let’s hurry!
They walked on, holding hands, Ingrid biting her lip as her need grew. She rocked on her feet as she fumbled for the key in her handbag, and stumbled inside clutching herself. Katie followed her into the bathroom. Ingrid turned, trembling. –Fondle me more, she said softly.
Katie put her hands on her breasts. Slowly she unbuttoned her blouse and caressed the soft skin above the bra, then bent forward and licked her between her breasts. Ingrid moaned as she felt a dribble. Katie put her hand under her skirt and touched her wet crotch. –Little girl is wetting her panties, she teased. –Hold on! She knelt and removed Ingrid’s underwear, exposing her dark wet bush. –Know what I would love to do?
Ingrid shook her head.
— Shave you. Where’s your kit?
Ingrid pointed to the shelf. –I have to pee, she whispered.
— Later. Katie fetched the razor and foam, and set to work on Ingrid, who lay down on a big towel with her legs spread. The careful movements on her sex made her wild with lust, and she reached for Katie’s crotch, almost kneading her through her jeans. Katie completed her task, wiped and dried her, and helped her to her feet. They looked at each other in the mirror; Katie still dressed, Ingrid totally naked, crossing her legs to keep from peeing. –Undress me, Katie said.
With trembling hands Ingrid unzipped her jeans and wriggled them down, then pulled her sweater over her head. With her knees clenched she undid Katie’s bra, and finally pulled down her thong. They sank to their knees on the towel, kissing. Katie took Ingrid’s hand and placed it between her legs. –Go on, she said, –put your finger in my butt. Oh God yes!
Ingrid felt Katie’s finger search for the same spot on her. Lubricated by her wetness she opened up easily, and as Katie touched her clit with her thumb Ingrid lost all control and drenched her friend’s hand with pee.
Eyes locking, the two girls climaxed, golden streams soaking the towel.
Aquarius