George's Folly

George Robinson, the scientist, is in his early 50’s. He is clearly all about no–nonsense old school type research. George prides himself on his analytical skills and determination to get things done. Now, however, George is simply baffled. His latest device fails to work. He has checked and rechecked his design; this doesn’t happen to him. Based on secret medical data, the device is intended to project a signal to enemy soldiers, which will be received directly into the brain. This signal is computer generated and intended to mimic human synaptic generation. The frequency projected is a type of biosynthetic feedback cycling sine wave, modulating throughout an identified human receptive range. Its purpose is to cause involuntary urination, thereby disrupting the immediate ability of the enemy to respond to threats. An unnamed scientist in another area of the think tank that employs George submitted the research the device is based on. As was custom to prevent one person from knowing too much, no identity was given; he received only an unmarked package containing theory as developed and relevant medical data. Yes, he got a thrill from the mission–impossible type drama of the place, but would never admit it. George would have liked to speak to the individual advancing the idea, but even a request to do so would be detrimental to security. Making a minor adjustment, George decided to try raising the signal level to see if perhaps a stronger signal was needed. His test subject in an isolation booth was unaware of the purpose of the experiment and had been told only to bring a change of clothes. George pressed the button activating the device for the two–second duration specified while observing his subject. Nothing. He spoke to the subject now by intercom. “Mr. Johnson, how do you feel; anything unusual you wish to report?” he asked hopefully. Mr. Johnson replied as always before, in the negative. Dejected and tired, the scientist hardly heard his secretary indicate her leaving for the day. He really must be tired– he realized minutes later. He had missed the voluptuous 38–year–old Ms. Fremont’s rather early departure. He usually kept close tabs on her, the object of his infatuation…or was it a secret love? He didn’t really know, but then it really didn’t matter, did it. This also was a secret in his world of government research. He knew she was divorced, and possessed a most vibrantly youthful figure of generous proportions. In her oft–worn tight sweaters, the well–filled and stretched garments above her waist accented that wonder of nature directly below it, the flowing curves of her soft sweet butt. Topping off the package with a neatly styled mane of red hair over sparkling green eyes, Suzanne Fremont could have, should have been a Vargas model. George had loved her from the day she had come to work for him nearly 8 years ago. The relationship had remained purely professional; George could not conceive of any other. Even when she sought his advice in her divorce last year, he did not know how to react and turned down her dinner invitation. As is often the case in brilliant and highly focused people, George was quite lacking in interpersonal social skills and had missed Suzanne’s every indication of interest in him. Years of dedication to work had removed all his instincts, save his interest in observing the beauteous Ms. Fremont. Yes, he still called her by that formal title, in spite of her request to address her as simply Suzy, or at least Suzanne.
From him she would have really preferred Honey, Darling, or Lover. Suzanne had fought men off all her life; this man she would have fought for.
George was particularly interested in this assignment for another reason, one he had buried deep into his mind; one so damaging it would surely end his career. He had discovered his interest in desperate wet women in college when a young lady of his acquaintance had peed her pants in his apartment. She had been drinking, but was not drunk, as he had supposed. Moreover, it was not an act of foreplay, as he had assumed since he was so incredibly hard immediately. It was an unfortunate medical problem making itself known to the poor girl. George was quite drunk, however, and joined his soaked sweetie by pissing himself to excite her. He was perplexed that she rejected his advances and mortified when she ran out screaming to anyone who would listen about the pervert in 12A. Life became a living hell for George overnight and he resolved to never, ever let something like that happen again. He changed coasts on graduating, accepting his employment where he had remained to this day. He never dated again; to be sure this would never happen again. He had buried his fears so deeply he consciously had no knowledge of his interest, his youthful blunder, or the extent to which it had changed his life, and even now attributed his excitement at each experiment as simple scientific curiosity. He was, and had been, all these years, a non–sexual creature. Even his interest in Suzanne was so, as that of a child infatuated with a pretty teacher. This made what next occurred even more shocking to the dedicated scientist. Turning off the lab lights, the tired man exited through the office. As he glanced at Suzanne’s desk from habit, he noticed a glint of light reflecting from her hardwood chair.
His mind registered it as odd, and then dismissed it with the thought that the seat stayed shiny because she sat on the wood keeping it buffed, so to speak. As he opened the door, the phone on the desk rang and he sat in Suzanne’s chair to answer it. As he reached for the phone, the scent and wetness of the cool woman pee in the chair reached his butt, his nostrils, and his mind in that order. For George and his suppressed memories, feelings, desires and emotions it was the equivalent of a mental sexual explosion. He sank back in the chair, the phone remaining unanswered, with its ringing protest echoing loudly in the deserted quiet. George was dizzy with confusion, emotion, and unexpected sexual need. His manhood swelled as his bladder emptied into his pants. In an instant he realized all that he had suppressed and his hand sought to relieve the outburst of sexual energy looming in his soaked pants. George ripped his pants open, grabbing his swollen member roughly, stroking hard as the last of his piss shot out, replaced immediately by white–hot cum. Suzanne had pissed herself in this very chair– and he was sitting in it. The object of his ardor now registered as a sexually exciting woman; George had made the leap from scared college student to very aroused sexual adult in an instant. All the years of abstinence melted away as he understood who and why he was the way he had been. It was a new, albeit very wet man who left the lab that night, full of hope and dreams of a life awakened. No longer would he simply gaze longingly at Suzanne…funny, he had never even addressed her so even in his mind. A plan, still not a conscious thought began to form deep in George’s awakened sexual mind.
George’s mind worked frantically as he drove home, trying to put logic into what had occurred. The truth soon emerged, brilliant, obvious and he thought, wonderful. He remembered Suzanne leaving unexpectedly yesterday morning as well, right after a test of the device. George recalled now her nervous manner and the heavy winter coat she wore, while still inside. She had been not herself for several days now. He considered the matter and understood her changes began occurring right after he first tested the device. George deduced now that the device he had built had worked, but on women, not men. Suzanne had peed herself at apparently about the time he had activated the device, that much was certain. It appeared to have happened more than once, though it was not proven. He would test further tomorrow, the man in him hopeful, the scientist resisting without proof.
George was at the lab early the next day, having been awake all night. He was extremely excited at the prospect before him. A brilliant man, he had also reflected on Suzanne’s demeanor and behavior the last 8 years and understood that she had, at one time anyway, been interested in him. He was equally aware of the disastrous response that could occur should Suzanne figure out his interest in her peeing her panties. George resolved to be very, very careful. Accordingly, his next experiment involved some diversion to remove any idea of her involuntary peeing being tied to the lab. George did not activate the device at all that day, instead planning how best to proceed. He decided to go to her home, park close by in an anonymous van and activate the device as she arrived home from work. He would see for certain what would happen and remove any suspicion she might have of the event being tied to the lab. He indicated to the pretty redhead that he would be working late in the back lab and did not want to be disturbed. Suzanne simply smiled and said good evening to him as he left the office. George immediately left the back way and exchanged his car for a rented van with darkly tinted windows. He parked on her street, across and north of her house where he would have a commanding view of her home and the left side of her vehicle in her driveway or garage. Settling in to wait, he made ready, plugging the device into a battery power supply and positioning the directional antenna toward Suzanne’s home. Finishing the last of his large drink, George realized in his excitement he had failed to use the restroom before departing. He hoped she came straight home after work. Over 2 hours later, George, the scientist had become George, the dancer. He had to pee so badly his teeth hurt! He shifted constantly, grabbing himself and wishing Suzanne would arrive. He could feel his pulse in his bladder the pressure was so great. George tried to relax to relieve the pressure. This resulted in an immediate leak wetting the front of his underwear. Seconds later his tortured dick spurted for the second time into his already dampened underwear. George realized he was going to pee now, like it or not.
Spotting his empty soda cup he stroked his leaking piss spout trying to hold on while reaching for his zipper with the other. Just then Suzanne’s yellow Mustang came around the corner. No time! He couldn’t miss this opportunity!
Grabbing the device he continued to hold off the flood as he stroked his rod. Now, with Suzanne in sight, the chore had become quite arousing and his rapidly expanding spear pierced upwards, still dribbling hot piss, but demanding a different release now. George watched intently for the right moment. Suzanne opened the car door and George hit the button activating the device. Nothing. Suzanne calmly reached into the back of the vehicle retrieving two grocery bags. She turned, pushing the door closed, now facing him. Suzanne looked wonderful, he thought, disappointed at her lack of reaction. Surely he couldn’t have been so mistaken. Maybe, he reasoned, his desire had clouded his thinking. He continued to watch the pretty woman, despair creeping in to replace his previous hopeful excitement. Suzanne’s very well filled red sweater and tight white pants looked great on her womanly body. He had a perfect view of her crotch now, but still nothing had happened. Suzanne started to take a step and suddenly, froze, a look of fear and confusion on her face. Without further warning a bloom of hot yellow piss darkened her crotch, flooding that gorgeous butt, rising up to her waist in front before spilling out noisily and forcefully in a yellow spray which cascaded down her legs and flooded the garage floor. The yellow pool flowed quickly under the car, shining in the garage light as vapors from the hot girl nectar rose lazily in the cool night air. Suzanne stood, unmoving, until the flow had stopped. George watched in disbelief as her expression changed. As she hit the button closing the door, pure lust replaced her look of fear and the last thing George saw as the door lowered was Suzanne’s hand unmistakably clawing at her soggy steaming pissy wet crotch. At this sight, George’s dick exploded, spewing hot cum into his piss–soaked pants. He had totally flooded himself watching Suzanne without even realizing it. For the second time George’s mind reeled, astounded at Suzanne’s wild uninhibited arousal upon wetting her pants. It was clear now what he needed to do and the soaked scientist drove home excited beyond his own imagination, again thinking of how best to proceed in his quest for Suzanne’s wet lusty body.
George analyzed the situation, arriving at the conclusion that he must get Suzanne alone in circumstances favorable to his desired result, which he thought would certainly be to have Suzanne sliding her wanton hot piss–lubed slot up and down his equally heated pissy hard shaft. Scientifically speaking, that is. He chuckled to himself, realizing he had never done this before, laughed at his own wit. The time–honored, if unimaginative ploy of asking Suzanne to work late seemed perfect. It was easy to fit into their routine since he did regularly do so himself and even with Suzanne on odd occasion. George knew he should not be so devious, but reckoned he could explain himself adequately to Suzanne when the time came, given the circumstances. He even suggested they get something to eat and took his incredulous secretary to dinner. While he was concerned with her nutrition, it was her hydration he encouraged, ordering a second bottle of wine with dinner.
George observed Suzanne carefully as she ate, keeping her wine glass full and ordering coffee for them with desert. Both had consumed prodigious quantities of fluids. Was she as desperate as he? George had already leaked into his underwear, the cotton briefs absorbing his indiscretion. God, he really had to go, and realized now he might not make it home dry. He really wanted this woman and was tuned to every nuance of her behavior now. Suzanne, thrilled with the handsome man’s attention, readily cooperated. By the time they were finished with the meal, she had consumed an impressive volume of liquids. Wine, water, and coffee combined to stretch the tight waist of Suzanne’s dress over her bladder. Observing George, she realized he did not really seem himself, and she was thrilled to catch his lingering gaze rest on her chest and legs, which she was exposing more of as desperation squirmed her body around. Suzanne realized she might never have a better shot at George than this evening and resolved to be in his bed before the night ended. She disliked the plot she had developed to ensnare him, but was sure he would understand when explanations became necessary. Uncomfortably full, Suzanne said nothing, unwilling to chance upsetting things now that George seemed to be interested in her. George indicated the effects of the wine had rendered further work unwise and asked if Suzanne was able to drive home, knowing she was in no condition to drive. “I’m not sure,” she replied slowly, only too happy to confirm his observation.
Suzanne eagerly accepted George’s gracious offer to drive her home. As he entered the car he slyly reached behind the seat and armed his device, hidden under a towel in the floor behind him, and pocketed the remote in his jacket. He was ready! As he drove off, the sound of Suzanne’s breathing seemed to change, intensify.
Sitting herself carefully in his car, Suzanne tried to remain nonchalant but could scarcely suppress exclamation as the seatbelt tightened against her swollen abdominal area. It was only a light touch, but even that made it harder for Suzanne to control her tortured bladder, inflated beyond reason now and continuing to fill. She wondered, with recent events in mind, if she would make it home dry. She wasn’t even sure she wanted to. As they pulled away from the curb, Suzanne’s eye focused briefly on the dashboard clock. Perfect. The train shifting cars at the glass factory, a guaranteed 20–minute delay, would surely catch them. Suzanne thought it time to let George know of her plight, not knowing he not only knew but had counted on it. “George, can you please hurry? I seem to have neglected visiting the ladies’ room and I am really needing to–uh…go…go there– uh– rather badly now.” Suzanne fidgeted in her seat, a disconcerted frown creasing her brow. She watched George carefully, cautiously, to judge his reaction. A blind man could have seen the excitement on his face; and the huge hard tool rising in his pants probably caused the quiver in his voice. Suzanne was sure now he approved of her plan, even if he knew nothing about it. 10 minutes later the flashing crossing lights beckoned them as traffic behind cut off any chance of escaping the delay. “Oh my,” exclaimed Suzanne, “we’re going to be stuck here and . . . Oh! My! I don’t think I can…can…hold it that long!” The mid–sentence exclamation, punctuated by Suzanne’s hand grabbing herself between her legs, was as much a surprise to the voluptuous redhead as it was to the scientist. The hot spurt of excited woman pee that had somehow escaped Suzanne’s tightened pee hole, causing the verbal stumble was short, but backed by pressure sufficient to soak instantly Suzanne’s thin silky panties. She tried to control her breathing as she felt the heated fragrant wetness rise up her butt. Heat rose from the inside as well, and inhibitions melted as her hand touched her pulsing moist mound under the dress. She had misjudged both her passion and her bladder capacity; she was perilously close to losing control of both. She didn’t care.
Suzanne spoke now haltingly, her voice hot, different, nerves tingling, quivering, hesitating, now an excited yelp. Oh God, she was holding herself! Only the hardness of George’s throbbing hot rod helped him avoid flooding himself. Indeed, he became afraid he would cum in his pants, watching his gorgeous hot desperate, yes, he could smell it now, piss–leaking Suzanne fidget and struggle, her face a twisted mixture of desire, desperation, and panic. His mind and heart merged, logic and planning beaten into oblivion by desire and desperation. “Suzanne, I’m sorry,” he started as they came to the railroad crossing. “I don’t know what…how… Oh God, you are so beautiful and I want you so badly”. George looked at her, startled at his own voice, now realizing he had spoken aloud. If the look of lust on Suzanne’s face could have been mistaken for panic, her lunge for his hardness would have sufficed to put George’s fears to rest. As Suzanne gripped George’s rigid spear through his pants she could feel the dampness, now growing. “Oh God George, you’re getting wet! Please, try to hold it till we stop, I want to see you, feel you, help you flood your clothes, my clothes and soak my hard swollen nipples with your hot man piss.” George couldn’t believe what he was hearing and looked around desperately for a way out of the hold the train had imposed on them. He spotted it immediately, an access road; dirt, going into the orange grove they sat beside. He jerked the wheel hard right with one hand, the other buried under Suzanne’s dampening dress, stroking her soaked hot panties before plunging under the thin silk to explore the source of the steaming wet fragrance, she twisting to allow him access, bucking, unable to hold still or curb the increasing leakage from her piss packed pussy.
As soon as the orange grove had swallowed their vehicle safely within, George stopped in a small clearing. Suzanne and George burst free of the vehicle, meeting in front of it, bodies merging, hands grasping, mouths searching. Suzanne freed George’s sword from its wet scabbard, piss spurting from it erratically as control eroded. “Soak my body George, turn my white clothes yellow with your wet man heat!” she screamed, ripping her blouse open, too hot, too impatient to deal with buttons. Her firm round breasts came into view encased in the thin cotton padding and silk, white, yellowing as she directed his stream over them, her turgid nipples standing stiffly in contrast to the velvety softness of her heaving globes. “George, I need you in me, now, Oh God, hurry my wet, pissing stallion!” “Lay back on the hood!” Suzanne exclaimed, her face distorted in passion, clothing ripped, yellowed, dripping with George’s piss. “Fuck me Suzanne, now, hurry, I need your hot pissing pussy now!” he exclaimed, falling back onto the hood of the low vehicle, his hardness bobbing, hips thrusting air in his need for her.
Suzanne fell upon his weapon hard, driving her body down on its length as George thrust upward, jarring them roughly as it’s hardened flesh buried in her. Nearly delirious, head tossed back, hair flying wildly, she was only dimly aware of her bladder erupting, spewing hot golden girl piss over George’s balls, control not even a memory now. George was totally incoherent as Suzanne’s steamy torrent flooded him, pumping her hard, arms pulling her tightly as the impact of his powerful strokes slammed into her body, lifting her off him in its force, his grunts of pleasure as primitive as any nature had ever produced. As they slammed together for the final stroke, the vehicle’s hood caved in under them, but neither noticed as the sound was drowned out by the screams of climax exploding from them. As both returned to some semblance of control, their bladders again prompted attention, and, still joined, they peed together, the muffled hissing followed by the rush of water sluicing off the vehicle hood to the ground. Smiling, each could only stare and marvel at the adventures that awaited them.
George drove home with Suzanne silently, the looks passing between them speaking their rapturous thoughts very clearly. As they arrived, George turned to Suzanne, expressing his desire to spend as much time as possible with her. He considered telling her about the device then, but deferred since their coupling had occurred without his actually using it. Instead, he announced to her his intent to retire, for them to travel and enjoy their life together. He was quite wealthy owing to wise investments and his frugal lifestyle and they would want for nothing. Suzanne enthusiastically accepted his plan and the happy pair arrived at work together the next day, gave notice of their intentions, and began to tie up loose ends and hand off projects they were working on. George mentioned the device he had recently been working on, and his superior stared blankly at him before speaking.
“George, that device was based on unproven and faulty medical data. We haven’t even been able to determine where it came from. The device could never have worked. I asked Suzanne to inform you of that and to scrap the project several weeks ago.” He glanced at Suzanne now, as puzzled by her failure to inform George as he was by the broad blushing smile she was giving George. “By the way, Suzanne,” he continued, “Don’t forget to turn in that remote indicator you requested that tells you when the device is activated.” George’s face matched Suzanne’s now as he realized all. He laughed now, a deep reverberating laugh unheard by any of his colleagues until now. “Are you ok, George?” his supervisor asked, puzzled. “I’m fine, Sam, really, just a funny thought passing through” he replied, thinking of the old story of the spider and the fly. He flashed a smile at Suzanne, wearing a tight black dress decorated with silver lace webbing. Her face was still red. She squirmed, the dress tight across her swollen abdomen, the hot girl pee within becoming most insistent about finding its way into her panties. Suzanne mouthed the words silently to him. “Oh God George, hurry! I have to pee…on you!”
By: King Neptune