Our Date ( For the Guys )

Our Date ( For the Guys )
The strong smell of chlorine fills the air. The concrete walls echo with the screaming of children, teens and nervous parents. It’s two o’clock and my shift is over. I survey the scene on this busy Saturday; take the empty water bottle with me as my replacement shows up. As I climb down the ladder from the watch chair I’m aware how badly I need to use the bathroom. No breaks today, another lifeguard called in sick, and it’s been four hours without a pee break, and with as much water as I had, I’m about to burst. My red lifeguard bathing suit fits tightly over my 5’ 6” body, my long dark hair tied up in a bun. I fidget as I sign out, the tight fabric of my bathing suit clinging to my swollen tummy and my protruding mound. I’m about to pee into my bathing suit, the last 30 minutes were torture as I sat there, hoping, praying nobody would need me, knowing there was no way I could save anybody without peeing all over myself. A few times I just thought about going in the watch chair and clean the puddle up later. I REALLY need to pee now. I walk gingerly over to the door leading to the locker rooms, each step torture. Pressure overcomes me; I’m barely able to keep from peeing uncontrollably over myself. I open the door to the hallway, one hand on the door handle, on hand pressed into my mound, pressing the red fabric into me, holding the pee in, when a lady with her daughter comes up to me frantically. “Hi, Miss, Miss,” she shouts at me as I try to go into the locker room. I’m about to burst, my pee hole is dying, my muscles clenched as I’m seconds away from having a huge accident in my bathing suit. I’m fully aware everybody can see the clear outline of my private area through the clinging suit, and having to pee this badly makes it worse. I know if I even slip one bit the wet spot will be so noticeable. I can barely hold on. “Yes,” I turn around, annoyed at the interruption. Can’t a girl just go take a stupid pee without being bothered? I guess not. I stand there with my thighs pressed together, violently shaking, about to explode. “Miss, can you tell me why the ladies’ bathrooms and showers are out of order right now?” she asks, continuing. “My daughter has to use the bathroom quite badly, and I want an explanation.” Her teenage daughter is tugging at her arm, squirming, about to wet herself, it seems, in her bikini. She really looked like she had to go. Normally I would be excited but I’m about to have an accident myself, my only thought is how quickly I can find a bathroom before I gush into my suit. Then I panic. “The bathroom is uh, closed?” I mutter, suddenly realizing I might be the one in trouble here. “Yes, it was open 30 minutes ago but now there’s an out of order sign and the door is locked.” In our pool the changing area is separated from the showers and the bathrooms by a door. “I don’t honestly know,” I say, grimacing inside. “Why don’t you ask the pool manager, he’s the gentleman over on the other end in the blue shirt,” I explain, trying not to pee myself in front of the customers, wanting to desperately jam my fingers between my legs to prevent an accident that is about to occur. I’m tugging the edges of my lifeguard suit in desperation, not even realizing I’m doing it I have to pee so desperately. The mother looks at me funny, maybe she realizes how badly I have to go too. I’m not sure. “MOM!” the girl screams, shaking. “Just a minute dear,” her mother replies, and suddenly the teenager, maybe a senior in high school, runs off, jumps into the pool and treads water. Her mother looks over and we both know what’s happening as the girls face suddenly looks relaxed. Normally I’m supposed to report people who obviously go to the bathroom in the pool, but she really had to go and I’m about to urinate too, so I don’t bother– too much paperwork. In fact, I consider the same thing myself, but it would be too obvious. I’m not supposed to be in the water unless there is a rescue, or I’ll be fired, so I can’t. The mother looks in shock, then smiles, laughing, and a minute later her daughter appears, dripping wet, looking sheepish, like she knew everyone just caught her peeing in the pool. They walk away. I go into the changing area, and sure enough, the door to the showers and bathrooms are locked, and I hear banging and clattering inside. I can barely keep from peeing all over myself, so I head back outside. I look around, trying to remember if there’s another bathroom nearby. I start to walk around to the front of the recreation center where I work, when a large spasm overtakes me. I need to pee RIGHT NOW, my bladder is violently throbbing, sending stinging waves of pain through me. I look around; see a small building, near the parking lot. A few guys in the parking lot, but hopefully nobody notices me. I can’t stop, I can’t continue, I’m frustrated. I clasp my hands between my legs and try to hold it back, but I can’t. I nervously pace a few steps more, take my hands away from my crotch, and I lose control for a moment. A hot spurt escapes my clenched lips; I gasp air sharply as the warm pee hits the fabric of my red lifeguard’s bathing suit. I stop it, somehow, the burning, stinging, pain strong. But not for long– another gush comes, longer this time, and my suit is wet, my body is trembling. Nobody really can see me, I think, pacing in a panic, my crotch wet, my hands grasping at the suit and then letting go. I can’t hold on, I just start peeing, the hot gushing pee spraying out of my clenched pee hole, spreading through the tight fabric, the red color of the suit quickly darkening with my spreading wetness, and I stand there, peeing into my bathing suit, outside, rivers of pee running down my bare legs onto the dirt, and I hope nobody notices. It felt SO good to relieve myself after holding it so long I almost don’t notice how embarrassed I am. I pee, streams running down my muscular legs, dribbling onto the dirt where I stand. I can’t believe how hard I’m going into my suit, I can feel the pressure as it explodes through the clingy fabric, hear the sizzling noise as I urinate– on myself. A minute later, and I’m done peeing. I grab my backpack and head straight to the car, hoping nobody in the parking lot sees the obvious wet spot on my crotch or sees the shiny streaks on my legs as I walk to my car. I feel embarrassed and naughty. I can’t believe I just wet my bathing suit. I’m 22 years old and not supposed to do this anymore. I get in my car, giggle as I look back at the wet footprints I left in the parking lot, lie a towel down on my seat and I drive off, embarrassed but very much relieved.
I never saw you staring at me as you left your car heading over to the back entrance. I’m not sure I would have wanted to see you right then, because I’m not sure how you’d react to me peeing in my bathing suit.
I met you yesterday at the gym, where you picked me up with some stupid line, but it’s been a while since I’ve had a date, being that I’m shy, and I’ve been out of town a while, so why not. Normally I wouldn’t, I prefer other girls as partners, but I’m lonely, and it’s been a while since I’ve had a man, so again, why not. I remember that I’m supposed to meet you for drinks tonight and then– who knows? I never knew you saw me pee in my bathing suit in desperation. I never knew you were standing somewhat close by in the parking lot.
I arrive home, my bladder full again. I drink water almost constantly. Goes back to my days when I took ballet all the time. Always drinking water, there’s always a bottle near me. It’s a wonder I don’t wet myself more given how much I drink. I go into my apartment, small but clean. I’m dying to use the bathroom, that second pee after a big first pee that you’ve held for a while is always the worst. My muscles are tired and I need to go. I walk into the bathroom, and for some strange reason I remembered that girl, the one who dashed into the pool. That excited me. A naughty thought comes over me, and I step into my shower, in my bathing suit, lean against the cold wall, and softly touching myself where the somewhat drier wet spot was from my earlier accident, I let go completely and pee into my bathing suit again, on purpose, feeling the warm stream rush through my fingers, pee dripping off my hand and running down my legs. Again. I smile, feeling the warmth run down my bare legs, my body tingling with excitement, and then I take a shower. Finishing, I walk naked through my apartment, my wet shoulder length dark hair still dripping, and I put my bathing suit in the washing machine and hit “ON.” I dry myself off, looking at my relatively decent body in the mirror. Okay, I don’t have great boobs. I guess my days as a dance student and gymnast would have let you know that. Decent legs, a nice butt, which I need to work on a little, I think, but overall, I’m not unhappy. I’m a size 5, sometimes a 7, and at 5’6 I stand about 118 lbs. I quit looking at myself in the mirror. I’m not usually so into such narcissism anyway. I look at my watch; grab a pair of boxer shorts and a bra and head to the couch for a nap. I’m meeting you at 7, and it’s only 4. Time to snooze. I cuddle up, and I wonder what will happen tonight. I also think about that girl. I thought I’d seen her before. Who knows? I drift off.
The alarm goes off at 6, time to get up and get ready. A quick pee to relieve my bladder again (I noisily pee hard into the bowl, the sound reverberating through the apartment) and I wander over to the washer and put the bathing suit and some other clothes into the dryer, set it on low and get ready. What to wear, I think. I select an outfit, and I’m out of the door, driving to go meet you at the place. Someplace new, a trendy casual bar and restaurant that got good reviews on the web last week. You’re buying, I think to myself, so it should be fun.
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I arrive a few minutes early, the parking lot busy but not full. It’s a new place, single story, modern architecture, reasonable lighting, looks like a nice place but not a stuck up expensive place either. I open the door and greet the hostess, explaining I’m looking for someone, thinking the hostess looks really cute. I see you, in the back, in a booth with high polished backs and wooden trim. A bronze railing runs along the inside edge of the booths, brass accents rim the lights. You stand up to greet me. I see you check me out, from my black sandals to the very low cut tight khaki slacks I’m wearing and then finally your eyes rest on my light blue camisole, my nipples poking through in excitement as the cooler air conditioning hits my soft skin. I subconsciously tug my slacks up, realizing the slight edge of my light blue panties show. That’s the problem with pants like this. You either have to go naked underneath, which I don’t like so much, or deal with flashing your panties every time you turn. I kind of enjoy seeing you check me out. I noticed one of the busboys checked me out too, my ass tightly encased in the slacks. We quickly embrace, and we sit down. A pitcher of water sits in the center of the hardwood table and I pour myself a large glass. I’m thirsty for some reason, so I take a few sips. The first few minutes of a date are always the worst. You never know what to say, or what to do, or where to even look. I fidget a bit in my seat, a little bit nervous. I drink more water while we start to chat. You ask how my day went, and then I ask how your day went– the usual conversation. I finish my water and you pour me another glass. I’m always drinking water, it seems. Our server comes over to take our order. A young girl, maybe 17 or 18, very cute, I think. Looks slightly familiar. “Are you guys ready?” she asks. We order. I go light with a fruit salad and a large iced tea with strawberries, a specialty of this place. You order a chicken pasta dish and a large coke. The server looks at me funny, then at you. She looks at you, pauses, and then asks. “I know this sounds funny, but do you know coach George?” You reply that you do. “Yea, I thought I recognized you,” she says. “I’m Erica, he’s my track coach, like he used to work for you, right?” You answer that yes, he did, and you recognize her. “Wow,” she says, “small world” and she walks away from the table. At that moment I recognize her too. “Wow, you know her,” I ask. “Not really,” you reply. “She’s like kinda famous in track. She won states a few years ago and took a year off of high school to train for the Olympics and then busted up her ankle or something. She’s like 19 now, starting to compete again in her last year.” “Wow, she’s like 19 and still in high school? That’s gotta SUCK!” I think. “Yea, I guess.” You pour me another glass of water. I’m on my third now, not as nervous as before but still thirsty. It’s just a habit. I drink a lot of water. You seem to keep pouring me more whenever I’m done too, I notice. “Wow, you’re not going to believe this, but I saw her over at the pool today,” I mention. I giggle. “Her and her mom. Wow, she looked SO much younger with her hair wet and everything. Anyway, I was getting off duty and the two of them come running up to me begging me to tell them where the other bathroom is, like because the girls’ locker room was out of order and she was like DYING to go pee, like holding herself funny, and I start to explain and she runs off into the pool and you could SO tell she just started peeing into her bikini in the pool!”
“Of course, I didn’t say anything. I’m supposed to, but you know.” I laugh. “She peed in the pool?” you ask. “Yea, she had to have, she really needed to go.” Erica came back, looking at me funny. Looking at her, it came back to me– the long runners legs, the tight butt, and her thin, skinny arms. I asked her. “Hey, didn’t I see you and your mom at the pool earlier?” Erica froze and turned red. “Um, yea. Oh my GOD, you’re the lifeguard. I thought I’d recognize you.”
“Yea, you had to go pee really badly and you went into the pool, didn’t you?” I ask, giggling. “I won’t tell, promise.” Erica was embarrassed and very nervous. “Oh my God, yea, I could NOT hold it any longer and if my mom kept talking I was gonna go in my bikini right in front of everyone. PLEASE don’t tell anyone, it’s kinda embarrassing,” she begged. I didn’t explain that I knew exactly what she was talking about. “No problems, just a secret between us girls,” I reply, and she walks away, leaving us with our drinks. I giggle. “I can’t believe she peed herself, she’s too old for that,” I say. You look at me funny. Then you laugh out loud. “Like you’ve got room to talk.” “What?” I ask, wondering. “I saw you at the pool today too. When I was in the parking lot.” I freeze. No way. You couldn’t have seen me pee in my bathing suit. I thought I looked around before it happened. I don’t remember seeing you. “And I saw you have a little accident in YOUR bathing suit, Gillian,” you reply, laughing. “OH MY GOD,” I reply. “How did you know? I mean– I looked around. Oh my God, I’m so embarrassed.” I can’t help but laugh. You’ve caught me red–handed. I giggle. “I really, really had to go, like at the end of my shift, and was about to pee into my suit, and then that girl and her mom like came out and told me the locker room bathroom was closed and I panicked and tried to walk around to the front but on the way over there I couldn’t hold it any longer and I looked around and didn’t see anyone and I started to leak and I couldn’t hold it back and I totally started wetting on myself,” I hurriedly explain. Your cock rages in your jeans. My story and you seeing it happen get you so excited your zipper is about to burst. “So, does that happen often?” you ask. “Um, not usually, but I drink a lot of water.” (I say this as I finish my third glass of water and start on the ice tea I ordered) “When was the last time it happened?” you ask. “Um. Actually, the other day after aerobics class I needed to go really bad but was in a rush home, and I had an accident in my car and wet my shorts.” “Wow, you must have had to go,” you ask, your cock exploding in your pants, stiff and erect, pressing against the tight denim fabric. You’re clearly excited about seeing a girl pee on herself; and for some reason, I’m telling lots of stories. “Yea, I explain, it was pretty bad. I’m like at the red light, holding my steering wheel with one hand, the other between my legs and I couldn’t hold it, and next thing you know, I’m making a big puddle on my car seat!” It was true, I needed to go so badly I was not going to make it, and I tried to hold my pee hole shut through my soccer shorts by pressing up my legs and then totally soaked my panties and shorts a few seconds later when I couldn’t hold it in. “Man, that’s amazing. Was that the most embarrassing?” you ask. “You mean was that more embarrassing than today? No, today was pretty bad,” I giggle. “Of course,” I continue, “if you really want to hear something embarrassing…” “Oh, Tell me,” you beg. You’re clearly interested. I can tell you’re excited about hearing me talk about wetting myself. I decide to go along. The water I’ve drunk is getting to my bladder now too, and I need to go pee pretty badly. Talking about having accidents isn’t helping that either! “Well, I peed myself in school once,” I tell you. “Okay. What, like taking a test?” “Nooo, I was in gym class, gymnastics practice, and it was after lunch, and I was dying to pee, and the coach wouldn’t let us use the bathroom, and I had to go SO bad I was about to burst, tried to hold it, and was waiting for my turn to do the floor exercise, desperately trying to keep it in, and I couldn’t and I ended up peeing in my blue leotard right in front of the entire class, pee running down my legs and a big puddle and everything. I had to go SO bad I just couldn’t stop, and everyone was like laughing at me and giggling while I peed myself.” I can tell you liked that. Your cock almost explodes into your underwear. You’re so hot and stiff you can’t sit. I see you adjust your penis in your jeans to it’s more comfortable. I decide to try some more. “Yea, and once I was in ballet class and this girl Emily had an accident in her tights all over the floor too, so I’m not like the only one who ever peed in front of everyone,” I tell you. I didn’t tell you that seeing Emily pee into her ballet leotard and tights got me thinking about what it would be like to wet myself for pleasure, but that is the truth. “Wow, that’s amazing,” you tell me. Our food comes, Erica sheepishly serving us, hoping we won’t embarrass her. I get a refill of iced tea, and the four glasses of liquid are making it known inside of me. My bladder has been slowly filling up this entire time, the pressure of having to pee returning. That familiar stinging sensation in my crotch, knowing I have to go pee rather badly right now. I decide to hold it some more before I head off to the ladies’ room. We start to eat, and soon I’ve done with half of my second iced tea. Ice tea makes me have to pee fierce. I don’t know why. Soon I’m about to start squirming in my seat, I really need to use the bathroom or I’ll make a puddle right in the booth where I’m sitting. You’ve had a few glasses of water and coke now too, but you’re don’t seem to be that desperate. “Excuse me for a sec,” I announce, getting up to go pee. “All this talk make you have to pee?” you ask, giggling. “Yea, I’m about to bust, I really gotta go or I’m gonna have an accident in my pants!” I tell you, putting my hands between my legs, acting a little more desperate than I really am, although I really DO need to use the bathroom pretty soon. “Darn,” you giggle, and I head off to the bathrooms in the other end of the restaurant. As I walk I feel the familiar urge grow. I’ve drank so much water today and peeing myself earlier makes it harder to hold on. I see the men’s room. No line. I see the ladies’ room. Figures, about 8 girls waiting for it. I get in line, getting kind of desperate, and then I smile to myself and I head back to the table. You’re sitting there, finishing your coke. “Wow, that was fast,” you say. “Uh, yea, there was a line, and I didn’t feel like waiting, so I’ll just have to hold it,” I reply. Your eyes get large for a second, as I suppose you’re getting excited knowing how badly I have to pee right now. “Do you have to go bad?” you ask. “Yea, I’m about to pee, but I’ll hold on and try later,” I reply, putting my legs together. This time I’m not kidding. I need to pee really, really badly. Walking must have made it worse. You pour me another glass of water, the last one in the pitcher. “What, are you trying to make me pee my pants, making me drink some more water?” I giggle. “Well, you seem to drink a lot, so, I just thought you’d want another.” You’re lying of course; I know you want me to get more desperate. So I play along. “Actually, I am kinda thirsty.” I guzzle the glass down, the cold water making it harder to sit still. I know this isn’t going to help. I finish my iced tea too, and you look at me with your eyes wide open again. “Wow, you’re really going to need to go soon, aren’t you?” “Probably,” I giggle in return. I’m dying inside, about to start peeing, and when Erica comes to ask about desert, you ask for coffee and I ask for another iced tea. She comes back quickly, and I start on the next ice tea. We chit chat for a few minutes and soon I’m dying. I’m so desperate I wonder if I can even stand up to go find the bathroom. My bladder is screaming inside and my mound is sweaty with excitement and tension as my bladder demands relief. I sit there and start to fidget. “Hmm. Gotta pee?” you ask. “Yea, really, REALLY bad,” I answer, kind of softly. “Are you ok?” you ask, your cock now fully erect in your jeans again, knowing how incredibly bad I clearly have to go. “Uh, I think I better use the bathroom,” I giggle, “Or I’m gonna pee all over myself and you’ve already seen that happen once today.” You tell me to sit down and stay awhile, laughing, and then tell me that you are kidding. I stand up and I almost start peeing right there. I stand at the edge of the table, my body violently throbbing, and my urethra swollen with tension as waves of pressure come through me. The stinging pain reaches a crescendo and I can barely control myself. My panties cling to my girlhood, and my tummy is swollen. I need to go PEE so BAD! “Wow,” I say breathlessly, “I REALLY need to go to the bathroom.” But I stand there. “Oh my god, I’m not sure I’m gonna make it,” I giggle. “Here, touch my tummy, feel how hard it is?” I pull up my camisole a bit. You feel my belly and I move your hand lower, so it’s right over the top edge of my very low cut khaki slacks. You fingers graze the top edge of my exposed blue cotton panties and I take your hand and make you press into me. I almost explode, and I can feel your hand feel the hardness of my swollen bladder. I REALLY need to pee– I can’t hold it any longer. You look up at me, take your hand away, and I squeal. I grab the edge of my slacks with one hand and put my hands between my legs and look at you with wide eyes. I’m about to cry I need to pee so badly. I can’t stand the pain. It’s worse than this afternoon, my weakened muscles can barely clench tightly any longer. “Oh no,” I beg. “I don’t think I’m gonna um, gonna make it,” I squeal. The wave of pressure overtakes me, the stinging sensation courses through my body. I can’t stop the flow. My hand pressed into my crotch, I spray a jet of pee into my slacks. I feel the wetness in my fingers and quickly take my hand away. A four inch wet spot appears. Your eyes are fixed on my crotch. I start to shake, and then I can’t hold it back. I try to keep the stream inside, but it slowly leaks out. I pee slowly into my pants for a few seconds, and a dark stain spreads, and a single line runs down my left thigh. I look up at you, shaking, sweaty, and I lose control. I explode into my slacks, my pee thrashing out of my tortured pee hole, rushing like waterfalls through my clinging panties, soaking the tight khaki fabric. Pee jets out of me, hissing and sizzling as it escapes my tortured body. You can clearly hear the hissing sound as I start to violently pee my pants. I can’t hold back. The pain is too great. I pee uncontrollably into my pants, going into them for a minute and more, pee flooding down both inner thighs now, my butt getting wet, pee dripping off the cuffs of my slacks onto my shoes. A puddle forms on the floor. I keep peeing until I can’t go anymore. Right then Erica arrives to give us our check and looks at me in shock. I stand there in front of the girl, my pants soaking wet, and she starts giggling. You look at me, your cock raging, and you tell me you need to use the bathroom immediately too. You pay Erica, who goes off running. Other servers sneak a peak over at me, standing there in my soaked pants. We tip Erica, a lot, and we run out of the restaurant. Patrons look at me, my obviously wet pants, with pee trickling down from me wetting the floor as we run into the parking lot. I grab you over to my car, which I’ve parked away from the rest. You’re telling me how bad you need to go, starting to unzip yourself to pee in the parking lot. I tell you to hold it. I climb in the back of my car and take my pants off. I’m just in my blue camisole, no bra, and my blue panties, which are soaking wet with my hot pee and clinging to me. I invite you in. You start to go in the back seat, hovering over me. I tell you to take out your cock. You do, you’re obviously desperate to pee too. I ask you to pee on me, to pee onto my camisole and soak my nipples. You can barely hold on but you aim your cock at my boobs, and press closer. You explode and pee, your cock jetting hot pee out of your pee hole, HARD and HOT, pee gushing out of you. Your stream aims at my right nipple, quickly soaking my camisole with your pee. You move your cock down and pee over my belly, and your pee is hot and yummy, flowing over my arched body. You pee into my underwear, moving ever closer. Finally, you hurriedly undress and you pull my panties aside and enter me. You fuck me hard and violently, I’m thrashing in the back seat as you slam into me time and time again. I’m sweaty, seeing double, and I have to pee again. I urinate as you fuck me, my pee soaking you, until we both orgasm, messy and smelly and totally satisfied in the wet back seat of my car. As I sheepishly put my soaked panties back on and get out to go to the front seat, I see Erica across the parking lot, getting into her car, noticing me half naked, and we pull out of there. I’m taking you to my apartment, and there the fun will begin.
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We get back to my apartment, I run into the building with only my soaked panties and pee soaked camisole on. Nobody sees us. I get inside and I tell you it’s my turn now. I tell you to sit down and drink the large quart of water I give you. I’m going to take a shower and you’re going to drink the water before I get back. I leave you at the kitchen table, drinking from the quart of ice water and I take a shower. I bathe myself as you fill your bladder, and I come out wearing a pink and white partially transparent lingerie set. Little pink flowers marked against the white slightly see through fabric. You can see the outline of my lips in the panties, and my nipples show clearly through the top. You’re done with the water. I give you another smaller bottle and you have to finish it too. You ask what we’re doing, reaching for me. I tell you it’s time you felt the embarrassment. I go to my dryer and pull out my red lifeguard bathing suit. I tell YOU to put it on. You look at me like I’m crazy. I explain that if you want to fuck me again tonight– that you’re going to cross dress as a desperate lifeguard right now. You sheepishly agree. You struggle to get on the tight bathing suit. You do. You turn around and your cock is pressed against your belly, facing up, clearly outlined in the tight red fabric. You look embarrassed. I explain that I normally only have sex with other women and that you’ll need to do this. You ask what will happen. I tell you. As you stand there, I’m going to keep making you drink water until you’re so desperate you’ll beg me to let you go. Another bottle I pass to you. You can barely guzzle it, your belly is bloated and you need to pee really badly now. I ask how bad you need to go and you start to whimper. I get the cooking timer from the counter and place it on the kitchen table. You’re standing there, in my red bathing suit, your cock desperate and tight against the fabric, needing to pee, and I tell you that you have to hold it for 30 minutes while drinking water. You start to sip water. Within 10 minutes you’re begging me to go pee. You have to pee so bad there are tiny little wet marks where your cock dribbled in the red suit. By 20 minutes you’re holding yourself, playing with your stiff cock, moving it back and forth, trying to keep from peeing. I need to use the bathroom quite badly but hold it. Finally half an hour comes. You’re about to pee into my bathing suit, so I start to touch your cock for you. I gently stroke your cock through the smooth clinging fabric of the lifeguard bathing suit, and you get hard. I softly stroke your cock’s head through the fabric, moving it slightly back and forth. I can tell you are really desperate to pee. You wince and a little pee escapes. I press hard against your belly and you scream, you pee uncontrollably for a few spurts, the wet stain spreading, as your cock can’t hold on any longer. I massage the underside of your cock, moving my fingers up to the wet stain on my bathing suit, feeling the wetness from your burst. Your cock trembles as I rub it, harder. You moan, and then finally you let go, unable to control yourself, and I’ve made you pee into the bathing suit. Pee stream sizzles and gushed out of your cock, going straight up into the fabric and large stains appear against your balls and finally the entire crotch of my bathing suit is soaked with your pee as you relax your bladder into the suit. Your pee explodes out of you, sizzling as the hot pee hit’s the tight fabric, and I massage your cock as you pee yourself in front of me. I’m dying inside, about to burst, but manage to control myself. I need to pee SO BADLY I can barely stand it. You still pee, and I start to kiss your head, your pee hole, tasting the salty hot pee as you go the last spurts. I press my lips and my tongue against the salty wet fabric, feeling your pee flow through the tight bathing suit I’ve made you wear. Finally I pull your strained cock out from the side of the bathing suit and I give you a blow job, sucking violently on your pee soaked shaft as you soon orgasm massively inside my mouth. I keep on stroking and sucking as you moan loudly, until you’re limp and through. I’m about to explode, on the very edge. I stand up, and I move the soft fabric of my lingerie up to your cock. You take off the bathing suit, your pee soaked crotch shiny in the kitchen lights. I move your cock just a half–inch from my pee hole and force you down on your back. I’m over you, totally desperate, and I start peeing. For a moment I pee into my hands and rub the wetness up on my lingerie. You watch my pee quickly spread and stain the see through lingerie, my dark pubic hair glistening through the thin wet fabric. Pee jets from me and I pee all over your cock, my hot pee flooding over your engorged penis tip, and then I take off my panties and force you inside of me. You groan and soon I’m peeing over you while you fuck me again, our bodies squirming in the pee puddle on the kitchen floor, you’re throbbing inside of me, I see the corners of the room turn faint as I orgasm strongly, my body soaked in our pee. You remove your cock and somehow manage another pee stream, this time in my mouth. I feel your hot pee hit my braces, my tongue, and go down my throat. You pee into my mouth for a few more seconds, the steaming salty pee coursing over my outstretched tongue, and then move down to fuck me again. Harder this time, I’m dizzy with excitement, especially after you peed into my mouth. We’re both naked now and we fondle each other and you fuck me hard until I orgasm a second time. We both scream in delight. I love the fact that you urinated into my mouth– I almost pass out from delight.
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Thirty minutes later, we’re cuddled together in my bed. I’m wearing a pair of white panties, bikini style– very thin. You’re naked. I need to pee very badly. You’re dozing off, and my bladder squirms, throbs. I need to go. I’m comfortable next to you, holding onto you. I’m slightly face down and I move and I pee into my bed. My panties soak quickly and the warm pee spreads through my sheets. I giggle as I purposefully pee in my bed, and I grind my mound down into the warm wetness. In your dozed semi–sleep you move a hand against my sopping wet pubic mound and explore. You feel me as I wet my bed. We fall asleep, exhausted, wet, and satisfied, sleeping well into the morning.
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7am across town. Erica (the server and track star) returns home after a morning run. She clutches herself, her green running shorts riding up her thighs. She needs to pee violently, having drunk too much in the morning. She tries to find the key to her house but can’t. She looks around, sees nobody, and stands there on the front porch steps, unable to control her 19–year–old bladder and pees into her shorts. Warm pee runs down her legs and into her Nike running shoes as she wets herself in an accident for over a minute. Her white panties are quickly soaked as the young teenager goes on herself, her legs shiny and set in the morning sunrise. At the same time, across town, I’m uncontrollably peeing for the second time that night into my sheets, pee gushing from my pussy as you sleep next to me. Erica stands, wet and embarrassed as she wonders how to get back into her parents house just after she peed herself in her shorts. Tears come to her eyes as the last droplets of pee escape her 19–year–old body and run down her toned runner legs. You and I sleep peacefully, but wet, into the morning, a feeling of joy overtakes both of us. Erica starts to cry, she’s locked out of her house. You wet my bed, peeing onto the back of my thighs, the sheets absorbing more of our pee, and we squish as we lay there. You reach for me, and the fun begins again.
By: Gillian