Birthday Shopping

She rubbed her fingers over the imprinted logo; then slid her index finger into the slightly loose corner, tearing the envelope along the top edge, already knowing what was inside. The card, off white with a pink and blue speckled background with specks of silver glitter attached, simply read “Happy Birthday” with a big blue number “18” embossed in the lower right. Firework–like designs surrounded the big “18” emblem. She opened the card and quickly scanned the message, looking for a check she thought might be in there. “Happy 18th, honey. To a wonderful daughter on her special day! Love, Mom.” Scribbled in black, from Mom’s treasured 1940’s fountain pen her grandmother had passed down to her. More importantly, sure enough, inside was a check for eighteen hundred dollars. Chelsea smiled with glee when she saw the amount, and turned to her mother and hugged her tightly. “THANKS Mom, this is SO cool,” she yelled with excitement, jumping up and down. Today was looking pretty good. “No problem dear, you know I don’t get to see you that often, I’m so busy, so I hope this helps some. Maybe you can use it for college expenses and make your dorm room really pretty in the fall.” “Yea, that would be cool,” Chelsea thought, although she knew she was going out on the web to buy some more vintage designer clothes that she’d been dreaming about. And even better, Chelsea thought, her lame mother was taking her shopping today at the mall. Life as the only daughter of a seriously rich mother had its advantages: Chelsea’s parents had divorced when she was only 13, and her father had won custody of Chelsea in a long legal battle. Her Dad worked as a plant manager downtown while her Mom had risen to the top of the corporate ladder in the trendy high tech part of town, working 80 hours a week as a CFO for a small but very successful marketing and advertising firm, rising to the top not only because of her tenacious work habits but her stunning good looks that held up even into her mid 30’s. While her Dad lived in a reasonable suburban home, her mother lived in a 6500 square foot mansion in the best part of town. The truth was, though, like the Judge had pointed out at the divorce hearing, precious Mommy wasn’t home enough to properly raise a child, so Dad was awarded custody. So even with her four hundred thousand dollar a year salary, Mommy lost out. Besides, Chelsea never really cared for her Mom that much, but loved her Dad, who took care of her and raised her during all that time. But, eighteen hundred dollars buys a hug, Chelsea thought, and hell, a shopping spree this afternoon was pretty good too. So she hugged her mother again, squeezing tightly. Maybe she wasn’t that bad a mom, hell the gifts were always nice and she always wore the best clothes thanks to Mommy’s credit card. Life could be worse. “So, are you ready, honey,” her mother asked, dressed impeccably in an expensive pair of fitted black slacks and a white blouse under a black blazer, new earrings shining in the light, an emerald necklace around her neck. Chelsea was lucky, although she never realized it. Her mother had given birth to Chelsea at 18 and somehow managed to keep her figure. Genetics helped, but so did private Pilates and yoga sessions along with a personal trainer at the office fitness center. Workouts helped keep the 36–year–old mother’s body fit and attractive; she could pass easily for a woman ten years younger. Lucky for Chelsea, that was, because Chelsea was a knockout, one of the prettiest teenagers in the entire high school, if not the town. Unfortunately for the boys, she was in an all–girls catholic school, the best in town, their coffers filled with Mommy’s donations. Oh, Chelsea was popular with the boys she knew, most of who admired her from a distance, too shy to approach the stunning beauty, and she was especially popular with the male teachers who loved to look at her, often because she was a tease. The same athletic build and beauty passed down through heredity as her mother but with bright sparkling natural blonde hair instead of her mothers jet black dark hair, a nearly perfect size 5 body with 34C breasts, muscular but not heavy legs and a smile to die for, Chelsea was most definitely a princess. An almost unapproachable princess, many thought. At the time she didn’t have a boyfriend, but every time she ran in the morning at the park near her Dad’s house, all the boys in the neighborhood would steal glances at her firm ass, sheathed usually in a tight pair of vintage light blue running shorts, her butt barely covered by the worn fabric, the panty line of her white panties clearly visible through the thin nylon as she ran by, her youthful breasts encased tightly in a light blue cotton/spandex sports bra. After classes Chelsea was an active girl, taking gymnastics classes twice a week, dance once a week, and during football season, cheerleader practice in the evenings. Sporting a 3.5 GPA, Chelsea wasn’t stupid either, a rarity in a teen as stunningly attractive as her. Genetics and rich parents had been kind to her. Her life was the dream of most every teenager, and today was her special birthday. Big Number 18, she was legal, and an adult. No longer a child. She had looked forward to this day for the past 3 years, dreaming of what it would be like. Today was it. She smiled as she brushed her hand through her blond hair, waving it back behind her neck.
She walked out with her mother and went over to the passenger side of her Mom’s BMW and slid into the leather seat. As she sat, she adjusted her stupid school uniform skirt, the typical blue and white plaid skirt, white blouse and blue blazer of her catholic school. That was the only serious downer to still being in high school– the stupid uniform. Of course, with a mother donating so much to the school, she could get away with a few things other girls couldn’t. Her skirt technically wasn’t meeting “uniform code,” being about 4 inches shorter than the rest of the girls, lying comfortably above her knees. Unlike a lot of the other girls she didn’t bother wearing boxer shorts or lycra biker shorts under her uniform, she preferred just panties, today a pair of expensive Italian panties she bought last summer in Milan, bikini cut in a tightly woven clingy semi–transparent mesh fabric that hugged her nearly perfect 18–year–old body tightly, their muted blue color almost a match to her eyes. Once again, being a warmer day, she had managed to go to school today without a bra, her nipples poking tightly against her tight white shirt. She knew if she kept her blazer buttoned up that the administrators and the nuns would never notice, and what where they going to say or do anyway, she thought, with her mother keeping the school financially in very, very good shape. “Honey, isn’t that skirt a little short for you,” her mother commented, worry in her voice. “MOM, we’ve been through this before,” Chelsea sighed, exasperated. “I know, honey, but I just don’t want you flashing yourself to everybody you know? You need to remember to act like a lady.” “Yea, I know, Mom, I know,” she sighed. Like her mother never wore anything sexy when she was 18, Chelsea thought. Then Chelsea giggled at a memory of earlier that day: Advanced Placement Physics. Doctor Smith. Chelsea giggled out loud before stifling her laugh. She always sat in the front row, and everybody in Doctor Smith’s class knew he was a pervert, married to a fat wife and who obviously didn’t get much in the way of attention. Chelsea always sat with her legs slightly apart, her skirt raised slightly up on her lap, teasing him as he taught. AP Physics was a bore to her; she needed to do something to stay awake. So she’d tease him. She’d catch his eyes peeking under the wooden desk, trying to catch a glimpse. Every once in a while she’d pretend to accidentally drop her pen on the floor and when bending over sideways to pick it up, she’d spread her legs wide open, her skirt rising to mid thigh, her panties clearly exposed to her teacher, and then she’d look over at him and see him blush, knowing he got a good peek up her skirt, clearly seeing her mound, pressed against her tight panties. She knew today that he would have clearly seen her pubic mound pressing tightly against the clingy Italian fabric, a few pubic hairs of her neatly shaven area sticking through. Everybody knew he liked looking at his students; once he got into trouble for making one of other the girls climb a ladder to help put a poster up on the wall and one of the school administrators looked in through the door and saw him glancing longingly up the girl’s uniform, just a few feet away, gazing at the teen’s butt. But he was a really good teacher and of course, Chelsea’s parents both knew him through a co–worker, and when Chelsea’s mother asked, the school did. Money is power, even in a place of holy education. Last year one of Chelsea’s friends had wet her pants in his class, standing up, crying, pee rushing between her legs onto the floor, and the girl pulled her skirt up to keep it from getting any wetter and poor Doctor Smith almost had a heart attack as he watched one of his students pee in her skirt, standing directly in front of him, her panties exposed for him to see. Chelsea giggled. Stupid girl could never hold her pee. Four years in high school and that girl had wet herself in class like 5 times, and peed herself in gym class at least twice as well. Other girls wouldn’t want to sit with her on same gym mat after she urinated into her blue gym shorts one day, the puddle spreading so fast one of the other girls got wet as well. Chelsea laughed at the thought, remembering the girl standing up, ashamed, a puddle where she sat, pee streaking down her legs as she ran out into the locker room, embarrassed that she had once again lost control of her bladder. Chelsea was proud of her bladder; she could hold it forever. She wondered what happened to that girl, who graduated last year. She thought she was kind of cool even if she had a bladder so weak they called her “pee pants Penny” behind her back. Chelsea and Penny had become friends as sophomores, but their class schedules changed and they had drifted. Still, Chelsea thought, she needed to get in touch with her. She wondered if Penny would be at her birthday party later. But then her mind wandered on as they drove down the highway to the mall. Chelsea wanted to get there and do her thing as quickly as possible. She loved shopping with her Mom, especially with Mom’s platinum card, but being with your Mom when you’re 18 was lame too. And she wanted to get back home to her Dad’s place and get out of the stupid uniform before going to a birthday party later on that she was looking forward to.
“Hey Mom,” Chelsea yelled through the rush of the engine as it sped down the highway “Can we stop and get a drink, I’m dying?” “Sure Honey,” her mother replied, and as they passed the next exit her mother expertly maneuvered the BMW roadster off and into the parking lot of the convenience store. “Want anything?” Chelsea asked, opening the door and getting out, her plaid skirt ruffling in the wind of the day. “Yea, just get me an iced tea, dear, that would be great.” “Sure, Mom,” Chelsea answered back. Taking mom’s ten–dollar bill, she went inside. Thirsty, she grabbed the 44–ounce Super–Gulp cup and filled it with Mountain Dew, and then grabbed a bottle of iced tea for her mother. Paying the acne scarred teenager, she smiled, and he nervously winked, looking at the stunning 18–year–old in front of him, hot looking even in a catholic school uniform. She grabbed the change and put it in her purse and walked out to the car. She gave her mom the iced tea and placed the huge super–gulp drink between her legs, her uniform skirt rising to mid–thigh as she did, with the cold feeling of the plastic cup felt clammy against her perfectly shaped thighs. Goosebumps rose on Chelsea’s legs from the momentary cold of the drink. Chelsea waved her hair back behind her, lifted the drink and drank thirstily from the cup, almost drinking half of it in one gulp. “Honey, you know you need to watch your caffeine,” her mom cried, always worried about her precious daughter. “MOM, it’s okay, I’m kinda tired so I need it.” “Well, you drink all that and you’ll be going to the bathroom all afternoon, but whatever.” “MOM, come on, you know I can hold my pee,” she giggled, laughing. Her mom pulled out of the parking lot, avoided hitting a badly parked minivan and headed on the side street that led to the mall just a few miles ahead. Chelsea sat there, and by the time they reached the mall, she had finished her drink, her tummy bulging slightly from all the liquid in her belly. The caffeine buzz did the trick and Chelsea was full of energy, ready to shop.
Inside the mall they went, and headed into the first store, some new place that was branching out from NY City. Avoiding the stupid obnoxious sales clerks “can I help you” as they entered, Chelsea rushed over to the skirts, and quickly picked out a great off white skirt, a thin silk like fabric. A peach blouse was set with it, a perfect match. She grabbed it too, the luxurious fabric feeling soft in her hands. Heading back to the dressing room, she quickly dropped her plaid uniform skirt to the ground and put the expensive mini skirt on, the smooth silky thin fabric caressing her thighs and ass she did so. Then took off her white blouse and replaced it with the peach blouse, Her naked nipples grew firm in the cool air conditioned air of the dressing room, poking out through the expensive blouse. She went out and looked in the mirror. Chelsea giggled. “Definitely needs a slip,” she laughed. “Or maybe not,” she laughed under her breath. As she looked at herself in the mirror, the transparency of the skirt was obvious, her panties clearly in view, the space between her legs almost as clear as if she hadn’t worn anything at all, even the small tuft of pubic hair pressing against her thin panties was somewhat visible through the thin fabric. Definitely something racy to party in, but no way she would wear that in public. As she stood in the mirror, she caught one of the other girls’ boyfriends seriously giving her the eye. She turned around and looked right at him and asked, “What do YOU think?” The guy, a hunk for sure, nervous and stumbling for words as he looked right at Chelsea’s panties, so clearly visible through the fabric could barely mutter “umm, wow” as a huge bulge grew in his Tommy jeans. She turned around and gave the guy a clear view of her ass as her bikini panties were clearly visible, the ultimate panty line. Chelsea smiled, and then pulled the skirt up four inches, and looked at the guy and asked “Do you think it would be better shorter,” and as she did so, reached up between her legs to tug on one section of her panties from the side, giving the boy a clear view of her underwear for a moment as she did so. She smiled, knowing that she had just teased the boy on purpose. As his jeans stretched and his manhood bulged in excitement, Chelsea headed back to the dressing room and took the skirt and blouse off. Definitely both were keepers. Pulling her uniform skirt back on, she noticed for the first time that she needed to pee. No problem, she could hold on forever. “Probably shouldn’t have drank all that Mountain Dew,” she thought, and ignored the somewhat minor stinging sensations that were starting to build within her body.
Another matching blouse was next, and she loved the chartreuse silk blouse that was on display next to the peach one she already had chosen. Picking both, she smiled at her mother. “See, Mom, that was quick, huh?” “Yes dear, is that what you want from here?” “Yea, that’s it for here,” and Chelsea grabbed her mom’s credit card and headed towards the counter. A very attractive red head with a long sleek body, and a very short micro mini skirt, wearing a small silver nose ring took her purchase and rang it up. Two hundred and fifty dollars less on Mom’s platinum card, and Chelsea and her mother were walking out of the store. On the way out, the two heard the redhead proclaim to her co–worker, perhaps a little loudly, “God, I need to take a break or I’m going to pee behind this counter all over myself!!!” Chelsea giggled and looked back, noticing the redhead rushing to the back, her legs pressed together as she struggled to get to the store’s bathroom before wetting her long legs in front of the customers. The redhead struggled in her heels, but disappeared in the back, racing to the store’s bathroom just in time, sitting on the toilet and spraying a minute long burst of hot pee from her desperate body, the urine escaping noisily from her urethra, sighing in relief, thankful she didn’t wet her skirt in front of the customers. Chelsea also realized she needed to pee worse now than even a few minutes ago; the 44 ounces of Mountain Dew were quickly working their way through her body, rapidly filling her capable bladder.
Chelsea looked at the jewelry store next door, and found a pair of earrings she liked. Something silver– made in Finland. Mom’s credit card came out and Chelsea had another (small) shopping bag hanging from her arm. Walking out of the store, and thirsty again for some reason, Chelsea and her mother passed by the food court as they cut diagonally across the open area, heading to another store. “Hang on, Mom, I need another drink.” “Ok, well, get me one too or something.” Chelsea headed over and saw the fresh lemonade stand. She bought a big one for herself and a small one for her mother and headed back. The two walked over to a table and sat down. Talking small talk about how school went and the usual lame topics parents would talk to their daughter about, they spent about twenty minutes, which was a lot for these two. By now Chelsea had finished her lemonade and her bladder was starting to demand some attention as the stinging pressure grew. Most girls by now would be heading to the bathroom if one was around, but Chelsea always held her pee and she hated public bathrooms. Besides, her bladder was strong, so she put the pain out of her mind as she went into the next store. A designer boutique, this place was great, she thought, temporarily forgetting the growing surging pressure inside of her abdomen. “LOOK,” she cried out to nobody in particular. They had just stocked their summer collection and had displayed it on the racks the prior evening. Looking around, Chelsea gasped when she saw the rack across the store. Striding across the carpet, Chelsea found a summer evening gown, in her size, and tried on the magnificent long evening gown, expensive at seven hundred dollars. But it fit perfectly, a royal blue fabric with sparkles, cut perfectly to the size 5 teen’s body, hugging her in the rear, a grand open back in a V shape, and a generous amount of cleavage showing. THIS would be a killer dress for a dressy date, she thought. “Mom??” Chelsea squealed, with a look of begging at her mother. “Oh honey, sure, why not, you’re only 18 once.” Mommy would do anything for her daughter. A seven hundred dollar dress was nothing to someone making four hundred thousand a year plus options and who had a two million dollar home already paid for at age 36. “AWESOME, you’re the BEST, the BEST,” Chelsea yelled, hugging her mother as they went to the counter. Another dip into her mother’s vast credit limit and they were off. As Chelsea walked, the pain inside of her was getting annoying. By now she really needed to relieve her pee, her bladder was throbbing inside of her, her tummy fully swollen, as all the liquid she had drunk had now made their way through her. Most any other girl would be desperately hopping around begging for a bathroom with their face scrunched up in agony, but Chelsea was tough. And while the pain and pressure was immense, Chelsea had needed to pee worse (the time she was stuck in the limo at the Christmas party when they were in a traffic jam was the worst. She almost peed into her evening gown that night, she remembered, barely making it to the bathroom of the club before her pee exploded loudly into the toilet). So instead of whining, Chelsea clenched her muscles, strong and tight, and while she looked briefly around to see if there was a restroom, she then thought the better of it, remembering how dirty they always were at the mall. She’d just hold it until she got back to her Dad’s place. No problem, she thought. She’d had to go pee much worse than this.
“Anything else, dear?” her mother asked. Her mother needed to get going, she had to get back to the house to finish a proposal due in the morning and wanted to get that done early. “No, I’m good,” replied Chelsea, giving her mother another hug. The action of hugging really made Chelsea notice how badly she needed to pee now. Her bladder had kept on filling, the stinging sensation was almost constant now, and the waves of pressure that always meant having to go to the bathroom incredibly badly were just starting to make their presence known. Still, Chelsea decided to tough it out. As they headed towards the car, Chelsea realized that she hadn’t gotten any shoes. “Damn,” she said out loud. “What?” her mom asked. “I need to get some new gym shoes. Mine are worn out and my knees are killing me in aerobics.” “Well, there’s that shoe place over in the strip mall, why don’t we go and buy you something there. It’s on the way over to your Dad’s house anyway”. “Yea, yea, ok.” Chelsea opened the door of the BMW, got in and sat down, again adjusting her skirt, still laying quite a few inches above her knees. She pressed her knees together, as the action of sitting down made her realize now how badly she needed to use a bathroom. It had been over an hour since she had all that to drink and she hadn’t taken a pee since she left school four hours ago. She clenched her legs together, the edge of the plaid uniform skirt still inches away from her knees. Her mom pulled out of the parking lot and headed down the road. Chelsea knew she really needed some shoes, but was having second thoughts since she needed to take a pee so incredibly badly. The surging pressure kept pounding the teenager’s body as she sat there, seatbelt cutting into her tummy, an agonizingly full bladder increasing as they drove over to the strip mall. Chelsea would just go find a bathroom over there or something, she thought. She didn’t even care right now that it might not be the cleanest. She just needed to go pee, and very badly. So for the first time that afternoon, Chelsea suddenly realized she was very desperate to use a bathroom. As her mom started driving, Chelsea was actually shocked, as her need to urinate grew stronger within minutes. She couldn’t believe how badly she needed to go all of a sudden, the pressure overtaking her thoughts, her bladder throbbing, screaming for relief. It felt like her kidneys were Niagara Falls, dumping oceans upon oceans of liquid into her strained bladder. As the strip mall came into view, Chelsea bit into her lip, trying not to think of the violent thrashing in her bladder, trying to ignore the stinging pressure that shot waves of pain through her body as she sat there, desperately needing to pee so very badly. The drive had been torture– every minute and every passing mile was testing Chelsea’s ability to hold in her pee.
Ten minutes later and mom pulled the BMW up into the parking lot. By now Chelsea was almost doubled over in pain she needed to pee so badly. As she stepped out of the car and stood next to it, her bladder throbbed incessantly, her insides shrieking for relief. She had to go so badly the stinging pain was a constant now, her tummy, usually flat, was distended from all the liquid. She subconsciously tapped her left foot on the pavement, trying to avoid thinking how badly she needed to use the ladies’ room. She’d just have to go at the store, period. She found she had to take smaller steps as she walked since she needed to urinate so badly, and she struggled as she walked into the shoe store. Looking around, she tried to spot a bathroom, but knew there wasn’t one likely available to the public. She grimaced in pain. But she certainly wasn’t going to ask the girl behind the counter where one was, no way, that would be too embarrassing. She’d just have to shop quickly and then get back to Dad’s. She could hold her pee, she always did. When other girls were screaming desperately, Chelsea would just sit there and hold her bladder back. More than one friend of hers had wet their pants at the movies or when they went out dancing while she just managed her bladder needs better than the other girls. “Mom, I need a pair of running shoes and a pair of cross trainers, and then we can go,” Chelsea said, walking over to the shelves. The sooner she could get out of the store, the sooner she could be back at Dad’s house and find a bathroom before she wet her plaid school uniform skirt in front of everyone. She clenched her legs together, now truly desperate, her bladder stretched beyond the limit. She gasped deeply as a strong wave of pressure rushed through her body, her pee aching to escape her tortured pee hole. The girl at the counter looked familiar, but Chelsea couldn’t place her. The clerk came over. “Hi, can I help you,” she said. Chelsea looked up. Her nametag said “Amanda.” Very cute in a different way, maybe five foot nine and a hundred fifteen pounds, long skinny legs and really long straight black hair. “Yea, I need to see these Nikes in a size 5.” “Oh, don’t I know you from somewhere? What school do you go to?” “Size 5, yea, I think we’ve got them. Oh, yea, I just graduated from Magnet North Arts School, do I know you?” Amanda asked, not really recognizing the customer. “Nah, probably not, I’m sorry,” Chelsea replied, kind of embarrassed. She clenched her legs tightly together as she sat on the little bench, her bladder dying for relief, throbbing sharply now. The clerk came back, the shoes in hand. Chelsea then recognized her. “Hey, I remember now. You’re the model we had in art class, right? Remember, Mr. Dons’ drawing II class?” Amanda had modeled part time and had modeled in a sleek black dance leotard for the “human figure” assignment at Chelsea’s school. Of course, being a proper Catholic school, a nude model wouldn’t be appropriate, so Amanda had worn a costume. Other times when she worked with some of the arts colleges, she modeled nude for their painting classes. Good money, better than the shoe store, and when you’re 5’9” and 115, people will hire you for that sort of thing, especially if you’re extravagantly gorgeous in a different way than most women. “Yea, that’s it. I remember you now; you were in the front row. That was a fun assignment,” Amanda said, now with a smile. “Cool,” Chelsea replied as she hurriedly tried the Nikes on. She was increasingly nervous because she had to pee so badly, but she found Amanda attractive in some strange way. She remembered painting her figure in class and was shocked that she actually felt a little sexual tension. Something about the girls long, long, legs and very thin frame, long face with that jet–black hair got Chelsea’s attention. Chelsea wasn’t lesbian, or even bisexual, she thought, but she actually had admitted to her friend Christine that if she were ever to be lesbian that Amanda would be her choice, and Christine agreed. Something about the college freshman was magnetic, she had an aura about her that just screamed sensuality. In the store, Amanda wasn’t even dressed in anything fancy; she wore a pair of tight black tights that looked more like pantyhose, a pair of plain shoes, and a long sweater that almost covered her ass. But still, the tightness of the leggings, the way they clung to the long legs, Chelsea felt her heart race. As she took off the Nikes, she let her legs apart, not realizing the girl could see up her plaid skirt. Amanda caught a quick gaze, but then asked Chelsea if she wanted the pair of shoes. “Yea, and I also need a pair of cross trainers.” “Same size?” Amanda asked, “Yea.” Chelsea sat on the small bench, really struggling now. Her sexual arousal caused by the store clerk compounded with her insanely pulsing bladder, her need to pee so great she was frightened that at any moment her pee hole would release pee streams into her skirt right in front of everyone. She clenched her legs together. Amanda went over to the shelf and tried to reach for the cross trainers on the top shelf. Even at 5’9, she was too short, and moved a small stepladder over. Climbing up it, Chelsea glanced at her ass. The leggings were really just black tights, and Amanda’s white bikini panties were clearly outlined against the thin black fabric. Amanda didn’t know she was flashing her customer, but Chelsea gazed, and then gasped as a sudden explosive wave of pee pressure overtook her 18–year–old body. She struggled as the rush of pee tried to escape, and for the first time in many years Chelsea really thought she was about to wet into her panties. She HAD to use a bathroom, immediately. As she glanced up at Amanda’s incredible legs and ass, standing, stretching on the stepladder, Chelsea at last succumbed to her need to pee, and decided that she had to ask. “Um, this is kinda embarrassing, but I like wondered if you had a bathroom I could use?” she asked with a smile. Amanda looked down at her, nervously and uncomfortable all of a sudden, and noticed Chelsea sitting there, her legs together, obviously struggling. “We do, but we can’t let anyone use it when there’s only one person in the store.” Chelsea frowned, and she fought off another wave of intense pee pressure. “Wow, um, like, I really need to go, like it’s kind of an emergency?” she begged. “No, I’m sorry, I really can’t. I know it sucks, but those are the rules and my manager is really strict about them.” “You could try the restaurant four stores down though,” Amanda replied. Amanda looked kind of shy and sheepishly back at Chelsea, who now was obviously totally desperate to relieve herself somewhere, anywhere, just not in her catholic girl’s school uniform right here!
Chelsea looked up at Amanda, and Amanda crossed her legs in obvious desperation too! Could it be she had to go as well? “Okay,” Chelsea replied sheepishly. Amanda looked, and tapped her foot. Apparently the whole subject of someone having to pee badly made Amanda realize how it sucked to be working in the store alone, not being able to use the stupid bathroom because customers kept coming in. Amanda hadn’t had a chance to pee since lunch and was dying to urinate herself, and was now suddenly fearful that she might end up peeing into her tights right there in front of the customers. Suddenly Chelsea’s mother piped in. “Look, my daughter has to go bad, we won’t tell anyone.” “I’m sorry, I really can’t. Anyway, is this all you need?” Amanda asked, clearly struggling with her own bladder control. Chelsea looked over at her Mom, who stood there with a distraught look on her face. How dare this shop clerk deny her precious daughter a bathroom break! Chelsea looked up and realized she needed another pair of shoes. “Yea, one more thing and then we’ll go. I need a pair of these in black as well.” Amanda grimaced. “Look, I know you need to go to the bathroom, but I have to be honest, so do I. If you guys leave the store, I’ll go pee really quick, and then I’ll let you guys go when I’m done, or I’m afraid I might have an accident right here.” Amanda looked pleadingly at Chelsea and her mother. “No, I think we’ll just get these shoes and then leave, miss,” her mother replied sharply. Chelsea looked at her mother in shock. “Mom!!!!” she pleaded, really needing to use the restroom now. Amanda almost started crying, her own bladder now violently screaming inside. She was a normal girl and didn’t have the ability to hold her pee like Chelsea, and was on the very verge of wetting her tights. She panicked, and didn’t know what to do. “Well?” Chelsea’s mother commanded, and Amanda quickly climbed up the ladder and gasped, her bladder thrashing inside of her. Chelsea stood up, almost peeing into her skirt as she did so, and walked over to Amanda. Standing just a few feet, she looked up at Amanda, staring at her ass again. Amanda reached up, trying to find a pair in black, struggling to reach far enough. Her legs once again were outstretched; she was on her tiptoes on the stepladder, her ass and long legs just a few feet from Chelsea. Chelsea stared, obviously looking at the clerks incredible body up close, while at the same time trying desperately to hold her urine inside of her as her need to pee grew to emergency proportions. “I’m having trouble finding one,” Amanda replied, looking down. Amanda’s legs were tight together; she was absolutely dying inside, her pee on the very edge of her clenched pee hole, about to escape into her panties! “Well, I need black. Isn’t that a pair up there to the right… yea, there,” Chelsea pointed. Amanda stretched, almost falling off the stepladder as she reached. She was tortured, her bladder demanding relief. Sweat appeared on her brow, her heartbeat racing. Amanda was so incredibly close to peeing into her pants and she didn’t know what to do. Reaching over, she managed to push the box of shoes over to where she could grab them. Chelsea was tapping her foot quickly, her own bladder screaming.
Suddenly she saw a wet stain spread in Amanda’s black tights… the store clerk was peeing into her tights!! Amanda gasped and put one hand in between her legs– trying to halt the flow. The store clerk, her long black hair cascading down her back shining as the light reflected off it, was peeing into her tights. The dampness was spreading as her hot urine seeped from her struggling girlhood. And then, within a few seconds, she somehow stemmed the flow. The spread of the stain stopped, but Chelsea saw a good five or six inch wet spot between Amanda’s legs, the side of one thigh wet with pee, the glistening of the wetness visible in the stores lighting. Chelsea grew excited, and she almost burst on the spot, her own need to pee so extreme, the pain stinging constantly, her pee hole tortured. Amanda grabbed the box and walked down, a moderate sized wet spot clearly visible between her legs. She looked pained, incredibly desperate, somehow managing to hold onto her pee, trying desperately not to go to the bathroom into her clothes any more. This was so embarrassing. Chelsea again almost peed into her skirt as she stared at the clerk’s wet tights. “Do you like have to go really bad or something?” Chelsea asked, unable to take her eyes off the now struggling, desperate clerk. “I’m sorry, I really need to go pee– can we ring this up before I wet myself any more, please?” Amanda replied, tears welling in her eyes, her voice high pitched. She sounded like a little girl. Chelsea thought she sounded like pee pants Penny when she wet herself on the gym mat, crying out loud, embarrassed after she had soaked her shorts in front of the gym class. She had that same high desperate voice. “Sure,” Chelsea said. They walked to the counter and Mom got out the credit card and paid for the three pairs of gym shoes. Amanda looked almost relieved as Chelsea and her mother started to head out for the door, as she finally could take her bathroom break before peeing any more into her already wet black tights. Just as Chelsea was about to leave, three teenage girls came rushing in, obviously classmates of Amanda. “HEY girl!!” they yelled. Amanda looked at them in panic. “Wow, do you like have to go pee or something girl?” one of them yelled. Chelsea and her mother stopped and looked at a pair of sandals and looked over their shoulder. Amanda stood there, tears starting to flow, her legs trembling, her black tights pressed together as she clenched all her muscles. “Wow, she really looks like she’s gonna pee herself,” Chelsea remarked to her mom. “Yea. I can’t believe she didn’t let you use the bathroom either!” her mom replied. “Oh GOD, guys, I need to use the bathroom, oh GODDD,” Amanda yelled, ignoring Chelsea and her mother. Amanda clasped her hands into her crotch, doubling over, hopping up and down. Tears streamed out of her eyes, running down her cheeks. “What’s the matter?” one of her friends asked. “I have uh, uh, um, haven’t used the bath oh GODD, I, I’m starting to wet myself…” Amanda wailed. Amanda doubled over, the pain increasing. Chelsea could barely control herself, all of her muscles tense as her need to use the restroom magnified. Chelsea watched for a second, but seeing the incredible desperation of the store clerk was too much, she now realized with clarity how badly she needed to pee. She needed to get back in the car and have her mom get to Dad’s house FAST before she peed all over herself, like Amanda was probably about to do. “Mom, we need to go, now!” she yelled. “Ok, just hold on, I think I’m going to buy these sandals.” Chelsea almost passed out from the pain as her mother went back into the store, obviously oblivious to her daughter’s extreme bathroom needs. And to make the clerk have to wait on her was too cruel, Chelsea thought. Her mom was a bitch. She walked back into the store, half doubled over, her bladder screaming, and watched as her mother defiantly put the box of sandals on the counter. Amanda’s friends were giggling. One of them tickled her! Amanda screamed, “OH GOD, no, no, oh God, no,” and she clenched herself harder. The 19–year–old part time model, junior college arts student and part time shoe store clerk was starting to wet herself again, barely able to control her own flood. She looked up at Chelsea’s mom and started to head behind the counter and then stopped and screamed. She clenched her legs together and tried to hold herself. Her insides thrashed violently, her pee wanting to continue the journey it had started. Another short burst escaped Amanda’s clenched pee hole, but then she held it again. She was trembling with fear, looking desperately at her friends, at Chelsea, at Chelsea’s mother, obviously beside herself in absolute agony. She started crying, the pain was too intense. Suddenly a loud scream echoed in the store, and the store grew quiet. What followed immediately was a loud hissing, sizzling noise! Everyone’s eyes went wide open and looked in shock and turned around and faced Chelsea’s mom. Chelsea’s mom was peeing violently into her black slacks, unable to control her urine!!! The gorgeous 36–year–old woman stood there, in shame, as pee rushed out of her struggling pee hole and soaked her expensive two hundred dollar black slacks, her pee flooding down her legs and puddling onto the floor! Stream after stream poured out of the woman’s body, shining sheets of pee cascading like waterfalls down her legs. Chelsea couldn’t believe this! Her own mother was peeing into her pants in front of everyone, uncontrollably jetting pee stream after pee stream into her slacks, soaking herself, wetting herself like a bedwetting child. Amanda looked over and it was too much for her. Seeing the mother wet herself was too much, and her own bladder lost control. As Chelsea’s mother grabbed her daughter forcibly to get her out of the store and into her car, embarrassed at having just peed into her pants in front of everyone, Amanda suddenly shrieked and rapidly starting flooding her tights with hot urine as she violently peed into her white panties and black tights, torrent after torrent of hot sizzling pee rushing out of her clenched girlhood, flooding the fabric of the tights, hissing as she peed herself in front of the crowd. She couldn’t control the stream this time, and peed constantly into her pants, flood after flood streaming down her long, long legs, the black tights completely soaked on both inner thighs as urine cascaded in wet sheets down the soaked fabric. Chelsea looked in amazement, unable to comprehend what she was seeing. Her own mother had just WET HER PANTS and then this clerk wet her pants!!! Against all odds, Chelsea managed to hold back her own pee. She wanted SO BADLY to urinate, but she maintained her pride as she struggled herself. She got back into the car and her mother drove away. The car was silent. Her mom’s slacks were soaked with pee; the inner thigh of the fabric completely wet and clinging to her mother’s toned athletic legs. Nobody said anything out of embarrassment. Chelsea sat for the rest of the 15 minute journey to her Dad’s house in complete agony, embarrassed for her mother but somehow sexually excited that she saw that Amanda girl pee in her tights in front of her. She didn’t understand the mix of emotions she was feeling. She just needed to pee, begging her mother to drive faster before she too wet herself!!
Fifteen minutes later, the BMW pulled up to Chelsea’s dad’s house. No cars were in the driveway; nobody appeared to be home yet. The birthday party wasn’t supposed to be for another two hours, so Chelsea knew she had some time to go in and change into something more comfortable. “Mom, I gotta really go, I’m about to pee my self too, so thanks for everything and I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” “Thanks Honey. And, if you could, could you keep my accident a little secret?” “Sure, Mom, no problem,” Chelsea lied, knowing full well she’d tell her friends at school how her mom just started peeing herself in the shoe store in front of everyone, and how the clerk then went to the bathroom into her tights as well. Nobody would believe it, she thought. Standing up as she shut the door, her bladder screamed. The waves of pressure came back with a fury, torturing the poor girl, her pee hole screaming for relief. Chelsea kissed her mom on the cheek, glanced down at her mothers pee soaked black slacks sitting on the seat of the expensive car, and knew she was herself about to pee into her skirt if she didn’t go. She let go and ran to the front door and fumbled for her keys in her purse. Looking around, she couldn’t find them. Her bladder screamed again. She needed to use the bathroom quickly, and then change and get ready for her birthday party in two hours. A throbbing sensation exploded inside of her, her nerves shot and she trembled violently as pain coursed through her body, her bladder’s membranes stretched, stinging, dying to release. The pressure overtook the poor girl, now standing alone in front of her house. Her legs trembling now, she was starting to sweat. Her need to pee was so extreme she could barely concentrate. Her urethra stung with the pressure as her completely swollen bladder thrashed in agony. “Shit, shit, SHIT,” Chelsea screamed, unable to find her keys in the purse as she bladder throbbed. She thought of the spare key in the planter behind the fence. Running over, she stumbled. Falling onto the grass, her bladder released for four seconds, and Chelsea peed right into her panties, the warm sensation of pee spreading through the fabric as it clung to her pulsating girlhood. She panicked, and stood up, retrieved the spare key. Feeling the back of her uniform skirt, she noticed a damp spot. Walking, she suddenly had to stop as another massive surge of pressure overtook her young body. She felt the stinging pain spread through her and she lost control again. Chelsea let loose a two second burst of screaming pee out of her tortured pee hole, again wetting her panties with hot urine. A trickle of pee quickly ran down her leg. She tried to hold it back, and through the agony, somehow managed. ‘Damn damn DAMNNN!!” she screamed out loud, angry with herself for letting some pee slip. She was dying– she couldn’t hold on, she was wetting herself!! She grabbed the brass key and inserted it quickly into the lock. Another spurt of pee, another second of embarrassment; she was losing control, the inside of both thighs now had small trickles of her pee running down them. Again, she controlled her muscles and stopped the flow. Opening the door, she rushed inside. She closed and locked the door behind her as another burst of pee exploded out of her tormented girlhood. Her expensive mesh panties clung wet and tightly to her pubic mound, the ability to control her own urine lost. She tried to hold on but couldn’t, and immediately peed another second long spurt into her panties. She clasped her skirt between her legs and she peed again, the pee this time dampening the plaid fabric. She somehow held on, and holding the skirt up to her waist, she headed quickly through the foyer and then to the door leading into the living room, in a hurry to get to the bathroom. The living room door was closed, and as she opened it with one hand, the other hand clenching her skirt high to keep the fabric away from her wet panties, she let loose again. This time she couldn’t stop the flow and at the exact minute as she opened the living room door pee exploded out of her tortured body, the pain so intense and the stinging, pulsating pressure so great that Chelsea, queen of the cast iron bladder, could not control it. Chelsea froze, and stood there, one hand holding her skirt up so it wouldn’t get wet and the other hand flailing in despair, her legs somewhat apart, spread, as jet after jet burst from the tormented girl. Pee exploded out of her, the hissing noise and sizzling sound deafening in the quiet entryway to the living room, sizzling stream after stream hissing from her throbbing pee hole. Unable to control it; Chelsea resigned herself to having an accident and stood there in shock, pee gushing from her panties down her legs, spraying onto the hardwood floor noisily as pee sizzled from between her legs. Defeated, she stood there, one hand still on the door handle, pee puddling rapidly on the hard wood floor beneath her. She screamed in despair, the pressure still intense. Suddenly, the lights suddenly came on in the darkened room!! A burst of camera flashes went off, and a loud chorus of “Happy Birthday” came from the room, and the entire room was screaming!! Her dad and all her friends from school had thrown her a surprise party, parking their cars down the block and hiding from her. Within seconds as the lights turned on, the entire room grew quiet as Chelsea looked up in absolute terror. Pee still streaming from her now transparent soaked panties, spraying down her legs, streams of pee rushing down her bare skin onto the hardwood floor, making a sizzling noise and everything, her friends and family looked at her in shock. They couldn’t believe it, but there Chelsea was, holding her catholic girls’ school skirt up above her waist, pee surging stream after stream out of her girlhood, her pubic hair clearly visible now through the soaked fabric of her panties, now pictured clearly in at least four or five sets of surprise birthday party pictures as well!!!
Chelsea stood there in horror, unable to control her urine. As she finished her two minute fifteen second pee, she started crying and screaming in front of her shocked, silent friends. She ran upstairs, embarrassed and humiliated. The party was over before it even started. The room cleared out as Chelsea’s dad went upstairs to console his highly embarrassed daughter. One girl stood downstairs next to the banister of the stairs. Looking sheepish and shy, in a short miniskirt, pee pants Penny, who graduated a year ahead of Chelsea, was wetting into her skirt, her own pee that she had held too long waiting for Chelsea to get home streaming down her thin legs. She started crying as she peed a puddle on the hardwood floor in Chelsea’s house. Chelsea’s other friends were shocked, gossiping and talking, with nobody knowing what to do.
Within fifteen minutes, the house had cleared out, unwrapped birthday presents piled on the dining room table, unopened birthday cards lying on the table. Chelsea was upstairs in the shower, her pee soaked skirt and panties thrown onto the floor. She cried and cried, a nervous breakdown overcoming her as the hot water from the shower flowed over her body. She washed herself, cleaning off the pee she had sprayed over her body. She couldn’t believe how badly she had embarrassed herself. EVERYBODY had seen her wet herself; people had PICTURES of her wetting her pants in the doorway even!! The horror was too much. She finished the shower, changed into clean clothes and got into bed and started crying in despair. Her 18th birthday, and she was in bed at 9pm, ashamed and humiliated more than ever before in her entire life. Within minutes her pillow was soaked with tears from her constant crying.
Across town, her mother had put aside her project from work a little earlier. She clutched two quart bottles of water in her hand from the kitchen. Going downstairs into the basement, she went over to the small desk that was near a small wooden chair with sides. Amanda, the struggling art student was tied up in the chair, wearing just a white blouse and a very short micro mini skirt, with a thin mesh fabric pair of sea foam colored panties underneath. Her arms were tied behind the chair, her legs tied to each leg of the chair, spread. Her panties were clearly visible, with the girl’s gorgeous tufted pubic mound, dark with a tuft of jet–black pubic hair, partially visible through the thin fabric of her panties. Chelsea’s mother walked down and handed one bottle of water to Amanda and then kept the other one. 4 empty bottles were on their side on the table. Amanda tried to drink the bottle, but she was so bloated and full from the other two quarts she could barely finish half of it. Chelsea’s mother downed her bottle. Wearing only a pair of black panties, she went over to the digital video camera she had aimed at the chair. Amanda smiled. A submissive lesbian her whole life, she enjoyed a little torture and humiliation. The two had known each other secretly for the past year, and this wasn’t the first time Chelsea’s mother had forced Amanda to pee in her pants on command. They had met at an art show and Chelsea’s mother had been instantly attracted to the teen, and had begun to support her college expenses as well. What’s more, Chelsea’s mother had just recently snuck a peek at her daughter’s diary and noticed the comments recently about how incredible Amanda’s body was and how she would be the only girl she would have sex with and decided to tape Amanda’s latest escapade. Amanda struggled, restrained in the chair, her bladder now throbbing after an hour of being tied up and forced to drink water by Chelsea’s mom. “Do you think she knows I like to pee myself?” Amanda asked. “Oh, no, I think your performance today at the store was excellent though. I can’t believe it actually all worked out. I’m sorry about your friends coming in, I didn’t expect that!” “Yea, it’s okay, they’re not really my friends anyway.” “Oh, by the way, I think I saw your daughter trying to sneak a peek of my ass. She’s got a nice body, it was kind of cool seeing her so desperate to use the bathroom. I wonder if she made it home in time,” Amanda added. “Oh, I’m sure she did, she’s never peed her pants, ever, even when I tried sneaking some water pills into her orange juice once,” Chelsea’s mom answered. Amanda looked in pain and struggled, excited by the extreme need to use the bathroom after being forced to drink so much water and also excited by the thought of what it would have been like to see Chelsea pee. She didn’t know Chelsea had wet herself all over her Dad’s house in front of her friends yet, but the thought of seeing the desperate girl peeing in her catholic girls’ school uniform excited her, almost as much as her tortured distended bladder now excited her. She cried out. “I really need to go pee, like badly, we should get started I think.” Chelsea’s mother agreed. Turning on the camera and the little video light, Amanda started begging. “Please, oh God, please, oh, please untie me, I really need to use the bathroom!!” The camera zoomed in as Amanda struggled against the restraints. She lifted the water again and drank more. The camera zoomed back. Chelsea’s mother walked over to the table out of the cameras view. Picking up an electric wand stimulation device, she walked over to the struggling desperate art student. “Oh NO, NOOOOO, no, not that, no please, I really need to PEEEE,” the girl screamed. Chelsea’s mother ripped down the blouse, exposing Amanda’s gorgeous bare breasts. Her nipples exposed, Chelsea’s mother flipped on the device. A purple glow emanated from the tip. She brought the edge of the tip towards Amanda’s nipples and Amanda screamed. In a circular motion, she kept brushing Amanda’s left nipple with the top and then circling it away, each time letting the tip stay longer near her nipple. The torture was extreme. Amanda’s eyes grew large, her breath quivering. The pain from the device combined with her total desperation was beyond anything she had imagined. By the fourth rotation, Chelsea’s mom tortured Amanda by keeping the tip there for a few seconds and Amanda screamed loudly, her pain clear in the pitch of her voice. Her bladder, unable to contain the pressure amongst the extreme pain, violently started urinating. Chelsea’s mother backed out of the frame and the camera clearly showed the streaming pee that gushed out of Amanda’s crotch as she uncontrollably peed into the chair, a huge flood between her legs spreading and streaming off the edge of the wooden chair. Chelsea’s mom kneeled down and moved her hands between Amanda’s legs and moved her fingers through the wet puddle between Amanda’s legs. Slowly moving forward, she started to caress Amanda through her soaking wet and transparent panties, stroking the matted wet public hair. Playfully lightly entering and then retracting her fingers from inside Amanda’s most private areas, Chelsea’s mother was getting excited. Her 36–year–old toned body shone with sweat in the lights. Amanda moaned. Again, she probed the younger girl’s body, and then retracted. Then she, suddenly about to burst with pee herself, stood up over Amanda and placed her own crotch directly over the top of Amanda’s panties. Grimacing, Chelsea’s mom exploded, peeing forcefully into and through her Victoria’s Secret black lace panties, a solid jet of pee spraying onto the younger girl’s panties, and then Chelsea’s mom adjusted herself and within a foot or so started peeing directly onto her crotch. Amanda moaned and shook violently as the hot pee from her lover flooded her panties. Chelsea’s mother than moved and ripped off Amanda’s shirt, and then peed uncontrollably onto her nipples, spraying back and forth, soaking the college student’s breasts with hot pee. Finally, feeling her pee stream run out, she got as close as she could to Amanda’s mouth and Amanda kissed her lover’s panties as pee flooded onto her tongue. Pee trickled over her lipstick, the warm sensation inviting and exciting. Amanda hungrily tasted her lover’s pee and then probed Chelsea’s mom’s inner folds with her tongue. Chelsea’s mom then cut free Amanda’s ropes and the two collapsed onto the basement floor, intertwined with each other, each probing the other into a massive climax. Each peed uncontrollably onto the other as their tortured bladders released again. They both screamed and moaned as they climaxed again. An hour later, they both fell fast asleep with an old blanket thrown over themselves; both soaking wet with their own and each other’s pee. The video camera had long run out of digital tape, and it was late.
Amanda cuddled into her lover, Chelsea’s mom stroking Amanda’s long black hair, now matted from sweat and sexual excitement. Amanda had to use the bathroom again, and moved Chelsea’s mom’s fingers down over her pee hole and then let loose a steaming stream of hot pee over her lover’s fingertips, relishing at the soft touch of her lover’s fingers against her trembling pee hole.
Across town, Chelsea was in her bed, asleep, having nightmares of her horrible day. She wet the bed, her tortured bladder unable to control her urges after the desperation of the day. Pee flooded out of her panties and quickly soaked her nightshirt and her sheets, flooding the bed as she lay racked and trapped in vicious nightmares of her peeing in front of all of her friends. She never knew that her mother had been seeing Amanda for so long and had no idea of their private fetishes together. She didn’t know that Amanda’s young body had already been videotaped and photographed by her mother for a wetting web site. She never knew that Amanda would secretly skip into her mom’s office at work, sit on her moms lap and pee uncontrollably into a pair of jeans right there in the big leather chair and then make love passionately over on the boardroom table only to have to clean up afterwards. She didn’t know that Amanda had wet herself while modeling in their art class, Chelsea never saw the trickle of pee coming from her black leotard while they were painting. She had no clue that she had urinated into her mother’s mouth more than once and loved receiving the same. She might have been interested to know that Amanda had known about Chelsea and fantasized about her often, wondering what it would be like if she had a pee accident in her uniform skirt. Her mother led a stressful life and her wild pee soaked sexual escapades with Amanda were the reason she had not remarried. Within days, Amanda would see the pictures Chelsea’s friends took at the birthday party, seeing the rich high school girl’s soaking wet underwear clearly visible under her plaid uniform skirt, pee streaming onto the floor. She’d wish the quality of the picture would have been better – the snapshot camera that took it wasn’t as clear as she would have liked. But it wouldn’t matter, as Amanda would masturbate feverishly thinking about it, wishing she could have experienced both mother and daughter peeing together, but knew it would never happen. Amanda would never know about Chelsea’s lesbian thoughts about her, but she would dream about her lover’s daughter, wondering what she would look like, crying and peeing herself in front of everyone. The next morning, Chelsea wet herself when she finished running, her vintage 70’s nylon shorts quickly and obviously soaked with her wet pee. The boys in the neighborhood teased her as she ran by, tears streaming from her face, embarrassed that she had wet herself in front of them, not knowing why she couldn’t hold her pee in like she used to. Rushing in to her dad’s house, she changed and checked her e–mail, only to find pictures of her peeing in her outfit taken during her failed surprise birthday party. She screamed loudly in despair, slamming the mouse onto the mouse pad, not knowing what to do. Across town, Amanda was drinking two quarts of water before heading over to Chelsea’s mother’s place for a secret lunch meeting and wetting. She smiled as Chelsea cried.
By: Gillian