Natalie

In 1995, I shared an apartment with Natalie (22) and her friend, Carl (23), in Sea Point, Cape Town. Up until this point I had never seen Natalie so much as blink in desperation, which later I wrote off to her having too many inhibitions about relieving herself in public and an inherited strong bladder. So any chances of seeing her wet herself was relatively non–existent to say the least. We were lovers at that time, but she was more than likely too shy to let me in on any possible secrets. Anyway, the Gods must have been smiling on me that week in mid–October when she developed cystitis (a urinary infection – frequent urge to urinate & hyper–acidity i.e. burning urine), which changed things dramatically. As you will see…
I woke up at 7:30 in the morning, rolled out of bed, got dressed and went downstairs into the kitchen to have breakfast. It was still dark outside and so I had to turn on the light before putting the kettle on. I then went out and fetched the newspaper from the mailbox, letting the dogs out at the same time. When I got back, I got my mug ready (sugar/coffee) and tossed the newspaper down on the table. I then made myself a bowl of cereal before pouring my coffee and sitting down at the table.
I must have read for about ten minutes, before I heard Carl moving around in the room above the kitchen and a minute later, he came downstairs and disappeared into the bathroom. Then I heard him flush the toilet before turning on the shower, as he did just like any other day, and so I went back to eating my cereal. A second later, I heard Natalie come shuffling down the stairs and looked up to see her in her knee–length white nightgown. “Why don’t you get dressed before coming down?”, I asked her, as she walked into the kitchen. Natalie stopped in the middle of the floor, having heard the shower running and said, “How far is Carl?”. “He just got in. Why?”, I asked, as I started reading the business section.
“Oof. I need to have a pee…”, she sighed, as she gazed at the bathroom door with a longing in her eyes. Needless to say, I forgot about the “business section” pretty much in the blink of an eye and replied, “Why don’t you take your mind off it, make some toast for yourself and then come sit down.”. She then walked over to the counter and started fiddling around with the toaster, as she checked the wall–clock every now and then. I could see that she was wiggling her right leg nervously and I was very tempted to sneak up behind her and slip my hand under her nightgown. “Damn it… The sound of the shower’s only making me have to go even more urgently!”, she moaned, as her toast popped up and she started buttering it before walking over to the table. She then sat down and started munching half–heartedly on her toast, while perspiration dripped down the sides of her face, “Ooh… Sheez, my bladder is bursting, I’ve never felt this full before, and it’s burning…”. I could see that she was opening and closing her legs repeatedly with a frantic desperation that said it all.
“Just hang on a little while longer, baby. He is almost finished now.”, I said sympathetically and then got up and walked over to the sink. The moment that I turned on the water to rinse my bowl, she went into a flat panic and wedged her hands in her groin, “Don’t do that! You’re making me wet myself!”. “I have to rinse my bowl out, baby…”, I replied, as I emptied the bowl by intentionally pouring it into a plate that was full of water.
Instantly, she began squirming like a caged animal and, once my bowl was empty, I heard a brief spurt of piss squirt in her lap, followed by two more, as I then put it in the drying–rack. “Oh, fuck. I can’t wait anymore!”, she whimpered, as she got up and started wobbling towards the bathroom door with her hands still wedged between her tightly clenched thighs. As she stood up, I saw that the nightgown had gone transparent at the junction of her thighs and butt, where it had stuck against the underside of her butt. “Baby, your nightgown is going see–through…”, I stated alarmed and unable to take my eyes off of the underside of her butt that was so suggestively stuck out at me. Instantly, she blushed and hid her butt away from me, in the process, not realising that she was exposing her front to me. (To be honest, I nearly came in my shorts at this point) For there was a wet spot the size of a sandwich plate in her lap that left nothing to the imagination, as I could see her pubic hair squashed under her left hand and, as her legs were then open (having just hid her butt from view), I could see that she was pushing her hand down and across her clit.
“I can’t help it! I’m going to pee myself…”, she whined, as I saw a new wave of wetness make the stain expand slightly. “For it all it matters, technically, you’ve already started.”, I chuckled. She went beet red, “It’s not funny! I have never had to pee this bad before in my life!”, as she began sobbing. She then banged on the door and shouted, “Come on, Carl. Please! I’m bursting to get to the toilet…”. “I’ll be out in a second. Just let me rinse the soap out of my hair.”, he replied. “Oooh, fuck. Hurry up! I can’t wait!”, she shouted, as she began squirming and bobbing up and down, while she hopped around on one foot with her right leg swinging up across her left. “Okay. Okay. I’m coming out.”, Carl said, as he turned off the water.
Natalie’s face contorted in a grimace, as her right leg whipped around like a tree branch in a windstorm, and I saw a trickle of piss race down the inside of her left leg. At the same time, I saw the wet spot expand out across her lap and a trail of piss run down to the hem of her nightgown along her left leg. She then dropped down into a crouch, with her butt below her knees, and I heard squelching noises coming from her crotch, as she swung her back to me. She then started whimpering pathetically, as the wet stain on her butt surged up the back, revealing her glistening creamy white buttocks through the material, and piss began cascading from her butt on to the floor.
At that point, Carl opened the bathroom door and looked straight at her, as she sat frozen in that position with piss flooding the wooden floor underneath her. After almost half a minute, she managed to stop peeing and stand up again, with a 1’ metre (‘4.5 foot) pool of piss around her feet. She then rushed into the bathroom, passed Carl.
“Phew, sorry…”, he said carefully hopping over the puddle in front of the door and going upstairs. When he was gone, I went into the bathroom, closing the door behind me, and stood for a second admiring her soaked nightgown, as she stared down in disbelief at the mess she had made of herself (just like a little girl). I have never felt more in love with her than at that point – there is something about the image of her, as the helpless little girl that made me want to hug her and care for her.
“I am so embarrassed!”, she sobbed, looking down at the amber stains in her nightgown, “I will never be able to look him in the face again…” She then sat down on the floor, hugging her knees to her and rocking back and forth, as she burst into tears.
“Yes, you will.”, I said consolingly, as I got undressed and lifted her off the floor, “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.”. I then lead her into the shower and turned the water on, as I ran my hands over her nightgown, feeling her body beneath the flimsy material. She never took her eyes of my erection, as she said, “Why do I get the impression that you just got turned–on watching me wet myself?”, with a naughty look on her face. “I don’t know… Maybe an overactive imagination?”, I joked and just got time to breathe, as she hiked her dripping nightgown up and then impaled herself, so to speak. That was the first time that the two of us had ever had REALLY WET sex and, which I still remember fondly.
John Sniper