A Friend Indeed

Frank Jarmon is looking forward to the weekend with more than his usual enthusiasm. The 54–year–old environmental technician normally has his time fully occupied with his two grown kids, his 14 year old, 2 grandkids and 2 more on the way. Put that together with the demands of friends and relatives and free time became a bit rare. His plans for this weekend include none of them, only himself and lots of liquids. He has gotten a head start on the planned activities by not visiting the restroom since lunch. This fact is being reviewed with caution now. It’s still an hour before he gets off and his bladder is requesting relief; more than a little insistently. Frank calculates his need and wonders; his bladder is really full and he must concentrate to keep from leaking. He can still get home without an accident if all goes normally. Maybe. His dick swells involuntarily, picking up on his plans to hold it until the resulting fullness in his bladder eventually cannot be contained and noisily flows it’s hot pungent golden liquid into his jeans. He smiles at the thought, and enjoying his arousal, gives his member a quick squeeze. Frank realizes now he may have a tough time getting home dry. He doesn’t consider that a down side today. If only he could share this with someone. It would be so wonderful to enjoy the company of another in his wet play, but life and the bitter experiences of rejection tell him he will likely never experience that. Still, he reminds himself; where there is possibility hope exists. He was not inclined to be gay, but he would have welcomed even a male friend to share the wetting he so enjoyed. Frank had known of his fetish since childhood but when he had met Gwen he convinced himself it wasn’t normal. They married and Frank suppressed his desires, refusing to allow them to surface for many years. Of course it was only a matter of time until he succumbed again to his needs.
Frank had been around forty at the time. Gwen had gone to her mothers with the kids. Desperation had come upon him fiercely, without warning. He had been drinking large quantities of liquids to keep hydrated in the California heat. That day the weather had suddenly changed, cooling off nearly 28 degrees from the previous day. He did not realize until on his way home from work that the liquid normally released in perspiration had now rushed to his bladder. His rough–riding truck didn’t help, and his bladder was screaming for relief. The pressure was unbearable! Frank felt every jolt would rupture his bladder and still the pressure increased. He was sweating profusely, his face red and his breathing jerky. He had never felt so full in his life! The short commute seemed to take forever and he wanted to scream at drivers impeding his progress but was sure he would burst with the effort. Arriving home he realized as he exited the truck he might not make it to the bathroom. Indeed, he was shocked to see the quarter sized wet spot on his jeans, growing even as he looked. He was leaking now, without the ability to stop it. He could feel his muscles tiring, slipping, and relaxing in fatigue in spite of his efforts. Glancing awkwardly about he saw several of his neighbors; he had to get out of sight! Even walking was painful; he could feel every step through his rigid swollen abdomen. Frank’s desperation turned to alarm as he slammed the truck door and moved quickly to the front entry, reaching for his keys. He felt the empty wetness in his pocket, realizing he had locked his keys in the truck and mere alarm turned to panic. A spurt of hot piss jetted into his shorts despite all efforts at clamping himself shut. Oh no! He was losing control right in his front yard! Dashing around the side of the house he tried the side gate. Damn! Locked! God he had to pee! Frank realized he actually was peeing now, slowly leaking, continuously, spurting sporadically. He had to get out of sight! Frank now had to go around the front of the house again and did so quickly, hoping to avoid his neighbor’s attention. He tried the other side gate, feeling at least mental relief as it opened. Stepping inside the side yard he quickly closed the gate as stretched muscles gave way, the searing burn of stressed flesh flashing through his mind like a screaming strobe of white heat. Frank’s pee hole released, slowly at first, just a warm trickle tickling his abdomen. With a rush, control failed completely now, his pee hole flaring widely open with the pressure. The stunned man released an unimaginable flow, loud, hissing, gurgling, and gushing a heated torrent into his pants. The hot liquid bathed his body in its golden heat, his jeans darkening, glistening as piss burst through them, fragrant, flowing on through to his shoes and socks as it spilled from his saturated clothing, dripping noisily to the concrete. Frank inhaled deeply. The familiar smell of fresh hot piss filled his nostrils and wonderful old feelings surfaced. His dick hardened, rock hard, like nothing he had felt in years. God he was so hard and hot! He had grabbed the hardness through his soggy warm jeans, stroking roughly, his need as sudden and intense as the flood in his jeans. Instantly Frank came, the heated lava of his lust exploding into his wet yellowed shorts. Knees buckling, he sank to the ground as his pent up bladder relaxed further, spilling more of its contents into his saturated clothing. Frank sat for nearly an hour there in his piss puddle on the concrete in his wet clothes, enjoying every nuance of his feelings as he contemplated the part of his life that had been missing. As his bladder shrank further from its stretched volume he peed again, slowly, his bladder releasing the remainder of its contents. Frank relaxed, feeling the fresh liquid warming his cooled jeans. He knew he could not ever suppress this again.
Frank resolved to keep control of his fetish, knowing his wife would not understand, much less participate. He was always careful to enjoy his wet play only when the house was empty and he had ample time to clean up. But, in spite of all precautions, Gwen eventually found out his secret in a sudden and shocking discovery. It had been a work/school day for everyone but him. Excess vacation had given him the day off. He had prepared the night before by avoiding the restroom before bed. Waking as Gwen left the house with the kids he could scarcely contain his excitement, or bladder. He forced himself to concentrate on preparing the washer to remove evidence of his play, and gave Gwen time to get to work. When Frank called Gwen with a question about laundry, he was assured she was at work and he hurriedly dressed for his play. Frank had a great fondness for silky lingerie and had bought Gwen many items over the years. He often borrowed her tight silky panties to wear under his jeans or sweats when he played and it heightened his excitement as he wet them. He had carefully spread out the plastic sheet under his desk chair and covered the chair fabric with a large trash bag. As his desperation peaked, fuelled by several cups of juice and tea he had felt the wonderful insistence of his hot piss push past his will flooding his panties and jeans, soaking his ass in the warmth of his flood. Shortly after that Gwen had walked in on him, as he sat, fully clothed, eyes shut, pissing himself furiously, voicing his fantasy of Gwen sitting on his lap soaking them both through her white silky panties and short schoolgirl skirt, her flushed breasts heaving as she shuddered to orgasm bouncing on his hardness.
His wife watched, soundlessly, unable to even guess at what was happening to her husband as he shuddered to orgasm in her piss soaked panties, screaming her name. He had opened his eyes to see her panic stricken face, confusion and revulsion as clear as the hot cum oozing from his wet panties. Therapy and counselling followed, along with many hours of frank discussion. Gwen loved Frank, but was not what you would call an adventurous girl and could not come to grips with what she considered her husband’s rampant perversion.
She did try, for nearly 3 years, to the point of trying to wet herself for him. She had cried as her tight jeans turned dark, her golden girl pee streaming down her legs. Gwen eventually realized Frank’s fetish to be as normal for him as her aversion to it was to her. Both realized it was not working for either and they had ended their 21–year marriage as friends, still caring for each other but aware they needed to each pursue their own interests now.
Arriving home, Frank was quite dismayed to see the Harley sitting in his driveway. He had been looking forward to this time alone. Even so, he was not as desperate as he had hoped to be by now and walked easily to where his visitor sat on his front porch. At first, he did not recognize the face hidden in the years of the man under the beard, but the voice was unmistakeable. “Mike Donaldson! Damn, man, I haven’t seen you in must be twenty years!” he exclaimed. His old riding buddy flashed an easy smile and the two shook hands warmly. The two friends quickly fell into the easy conversation of reminiscence, lubricated by generous quantities of the cold brew Mike had brought. Frank grew relaxed with his friend and when the talk turned to Gwen, he was open and honest with him about what had occurred to separate them.
Mike listened quietly as Frank explained his fetish, neither shocked nor judgemental. When Frank had finished, Mike just smiled and said softly. “Buddy, I’m sorry. Anything you like to do is fine with me, so relax and enjoy your weekend. With that, Frank realized how full he was, and looking at Mike, expressed his need to piss. “Go for it Bud, I’ve seen it all and you aren’t going to bother me at all! By the way, remember my baby sister, Melissa, the one who always had a crush on you?” As Frank thought of Melissa, a fierce urge to piss hit him. He relaxed and just let it take over.
As Frank began to piss himself, Mike smiled, simply saying, “Good for you, Buddy, life is meant to enjoy.” Mike fell silent as Frank, still pissing, reiterated his memory of Melissa. “Oh yes, I remember her. Very well! I can’t tell you how many times I looked at her, wishing that she were older. God she was so beautiful!” “Yes”, Mike chimed in, laughing, “She still has those two beauties!” Melissa Donaldson had developed very well, and early. She was physically a woman at a very young age. “She was always flirting with me,” Frank remembered. As he thought of the sexy young brunette’s body in tight cut–offs and bared midriff, he again wanted her. “Well, continued Mike, she is old enough now, buddy, and still talks about you.” With that, Mike’s cell phone rang. He excused himself long enough to say only a word or two, and then turned back to Frank. “She is about 36 now and just divorced last year. She still lives in town, over on Garden Street.” Frank finished pissing, the golden liquid pooling under him and running off the plastic chair he sat on.
“What happened?” Frank asked, sorry Melissa’s life had been less than perfect but well aware of his swelling member’s fond remembrance of her and the thought of seeing her again. “Well, Mike replied, pausing, laughing loudly as he began to piss his pants, we seem to have a family fetish. Her husband caught her pissing her cut–offs, masturbating and fantasizing about some guy named Frank! As Frank looked at his friend pissing himself he was speechless and could only stare as a car slowed and turned into his driveway. The door opened and a pretty brunette jumped out, obviously excited and very desperate. She could hardly walk! Frank recognized Melissa Donaldson at once. She smiled broadly at him, and as she rushed up the driveway to meet him he could see and hear the hot woman piss running from under Melissa’s short schoolgirl skirt. It splattered noisily on the concrete. He vaguely heard Mike’s voice from behind him. “Sorry, Buddy, hope you don’t mind, I gotta go. By the way, I ran into Gwen last week when I started looking for you! Have a good evening. Hi sis!”
Frank woke with a start, the longing in his loins and ache in his heart as real as the empty bed he lay in. He always woke at this point in his dream, wanting Melissa, but in a lonely empty bed in the middle of a large warm wet spot. Thank God for plastic sheets, he thought aimlessly, his thoughts centered on the hard pole protruding from his soaked pajamas. Frank had dreamed this dream many times before, always with the same result of waking up alone in his wet bed. He wandered into the kitchen, plopping down hard in a plastic dinette chair. “Well”, he remarked to his new wife, “I see you started without me again.” Melissa Donaldson–Jarman sank down on his lap; her wet panties and nightgown cool on his hot inflated manhood. “Yes”, she teased, “and I see you dreamed about us getting together again!” Frank felt her panties flood, hot and wet, as she freed his pole and bounced atop it, only to sink immediately, impaled on it’s length. “Besides”, she squealed as Frank thrust hard into her. “I’m not done,” proving her point as her wet pussy erupted in a flood of hot fragrant girl pee, warming and soaking them both with its sweet wet heat. They played the play of new young lovers, their relationship scarcely 1 year old, and when their passions played out, for now, the wet and satiated pair came to rest. They looked at each other and laughing, raised their coffee cups in toast. “To Mike, a friend indeed!”
By: King Neptune