The Beginning

We were young and innocent. She was nineteen and I was twenty–three when we moved into the small cheap flat after going steady for three years. No need to bore you with the story of second–hand furniture and the roaming of garage sales, we were soon ready to live happily ever after. Karin was of average height, with brown curls to her breasts, green eyes and a nice girly shape. She preferred jeans and a sweater, but wore the occasional dress to feel womanlier. I’m an ordinary guy. The most out–of–the–ordinary about me she didn’t know about. We had a good sex life when we first started, enjoying each other regularly. But the thing that really turned me on was – well, I didn’t have the nerve to tell her. I had had these fantasies for as long as I could remember, even as far back as pre–school; my little willy got all stiff and strange at the mere thought of the expression “pee my panties”. In the lucky event of a girl in class or elsewhere admitting to “nearly peeing my panties” or “almost wetting my undies” I would get all shaky and experience strange contractions in my little thing. Once a girl dropped her pants and weed right in front of me – we must have been about ten, and looking back I realized I had had my first orgasm by just watching her.
I had witnessed a couple of accidents by the time I was fifteen. One was a girl in class who hated the school facilities so much she spent half the day with her hand in her crotch, waiting to get home. One day she didn’t make it and stood crying by the school gate with pee flooding her jeans. The other – was it really an accident? Susie who wore short skirts but sat as if she had pants on, with her legs apart and panties showing. We sat on the grass playing cards when I heard a hissing sound, and I looked up to see a wet circle between her legs. She didn’t say anything, and I was too shy to comment on it, but I kept the image in my mind for years.
Those were childhood experiences, and as I met Karin I had unsuccessfully tried to put the thought of peeing out of my head. We were grown–ups and could have proper sex.
Then I read a story in a pornographic magazine about a guy who kept his girl from using the bathroom, getting off on seeing her squirm, until she finally peed her panties. The pictures really got to me. I was twenty–two and started looking at my girlfriend with new eyes. Of course I didn’t say anything. It was totally perverse, and who will admit to that? But I dreamed of Karin not making it to the bathroom, I pictured her going outside (she never did), I tried to imagine her with her legs crossed and (of course) an inviting smile.
Moving into the apartment made for greater intimacy. Strangely, or maybe not, we had explored each other closely, but the toilet was still a private zone with turned keys and careful wording. Under the sheets she was totally uninhibited, but she never walked around naked or even mentioned her private business.
Then there was that day at the beach. She was wearing her new blue bikini– small soft triangles hugging her breasts and low–cut panties exposing the top of her butt crack when she lay on her belly. After about an hour she said she wanted to go in the water. It was still early summer and the water wasn’t too warm.
— It’s too cold, I said.
She was sitting up, hugging herself. –I have to whether I want to or not. You know…
It dawned on me. She had to pee. She had to pee and was going to do it in the water, probably standing, maybe with her legs slightly apart, letting go in her new blue bikini panties. In a matter of seconds I was hard. –Okay, I swallowed. –I’ll come too.
She walked first – fortunately for me and the state I was in – and I looked at her buttocks moving as she stepped in. When the water reached her belly she stopped, turned and looked at me with a faraway stare. God, she’s peeing, I thought. She’s peeing through her blue bikini panties. And I’m watching her with only three yards of water between us.
— This feels good, she said with a smile, and I nearly came in my trunks. I saw her concentrate to get the last drop out, and then she started for shore again, her thighs making waves as she moved. I tried not to stare at her crotch; maybe not all those drops were water…
A couple of weeks later we were preparing for bed. As usual I went first, giving her the undisturbed time for her girly things to do before putting her nightdress on. As I came out she stood outside waiting, lovely in her faded jeans, tan shoulders under her halter top. She was leaning against the wall with her legs crossed, the denim stretched tightly over the flat triangle beneath her belly. I put my arms around her.
— I want you. Right now.
She looked me in the eyes and pressed herself against me. –Just a second.
— I can’t wait another second. Come to bed!
— I have to use the toilet first, she said.
— Then let me watch.
She looked at me with a surprised look. –You want to watch me wee?
I nodded.
She hesitated, and then took my arm. –Okay then.
She smiled shyly at me as she wriggled down her jeans and white panties, and sat down. Her back was slightly arched, she had her knees together and her jeans at mid–thigh. She bit her lip as she concentrated. –Nothing’s coming.
I waited, trying to look indifferent while saving the image of this lovely girl – my girl – sitting there ready to pee. Then her eyes widened and I heard the stream hit the bowl.
After sex she raised her head on her elbow and looked curiously at me.
— Tell me, did watching me turn you on?
I nodded, a little bit embarrassed. –It’s interesting. I mean, it’s not something I know about, how you… I mean, I haven’t seen…
— Okay, okay. You liked to watch me wee. Don’t explain. I think it’s sort of cute. I was afraid it would turn you off, seeing me in the bathroom. Ruining the mystery.
— No way. I want to watch you again.
She kissed me. –You will.
After that she stopped locking the door. She got used to having me there, keeping up conversation as she lifted her skirt or unzipped her pants. But I guess one always wants to take things one–step further, so one day I stopped her with her skirt around her waist and her thumbs under the elastic of her panties. –Karin, I said. –I would like to – uh – I can’t actually see anything while you’re sitting – I mean, maybe you could go in the shower or something…
She bit her lip – I love that gesture – and thought. Then she dropped her panties to the floor and stepped out of them. She pulled the shower curtain aside and squatted over the drain, knees apart and holding her skirt. Fascinated I stared at her dark bush and her small slit as a golden stream flowed from her.
We ended up in bed.
Again there were further goals to reach. After a period of watching her go in the shower, some times standing up with her feet apart, even with her legs pressed together to let the hot river run down her legs, I took courage to ask her one more thing. She was wearing her short yellow dress over the usual white cotton underwear, and seeing the expectant look in my eyes she prepared to pull down and squat in the shower.
— Karin, I said.
— Yes?
I pointed to her panties. –Could you keep them on?
— You mean while I’m weeing?
I nodded.
— You are crazy, she whispered. –You want me to wet my panties.
I nodded again.
— You don’t know how much I love you, she said as she sank to her haunches, knees wide apart, white cotton covering her bush. She looked down at herself. –This is difficult. It won’t come. She placed her feet a little further apart and stared into space. Then she looked down again at the dark stain spreading in her gusset and the thick straight stream that followed.
She stood up and let her dress slip down. –Okay, she said, I’ve peed my panties for you.
I put my arms around her, and then slipped a hand under her dress to feel her butt. There was warm wetness between her legs. I nearly came in my pants.
All the time my fantasies were one step ahead. In my mind I pictured her going everywhere, I imagined her wetting every garment she possessed, I even dreamed about her wetting the bed. We had driven out to the nature park and found a secluded place where we could eat our sandwiches and drink our cokes, and engage in some fondling. We were lying side by side and I was stroking her belly, occasionally slipping my hand between her legs, caressing her sex through her sports pants. She sighed and pressed herself against my hand. As I stroked harder she opened her eyes. –I have to wee, she whispered.
— Go ahead, I said, still stroking.
— Now?
— Right now.
— In my pants?
— In your pants. Let it flow.
Karin moaned and arched her back, and suddenly my hand was soaked with her warm pee as she emptied herself in her pants.
From now on there were no limits.
Aquarius