How Much Do You Love Me ?

?
I was sitting on the patio with my girlfriend Faith. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon and we’d just finished tea. “How much do you love me?” I asked.
Faith looked up from her magazine with a puzzled expression on her face. “Why?”
“Just wondered what you’d do to prove how much you love me,” I replied.
She pushed a stray strand of her black hair away from her face. “Why?”
“Don’t look so worried. It’s just that I finished reading a book this morning.”
“Congratulations. Give yourself a Gold Star. But I still don’t see how your finishing a book leads to that question.”
“Well, in it this man and woman are in a restaurant and that’s the question she asks him. And he has to prove how much he loves her by wetting himself there and then in the restaurant. And he does.”
“I see. And here was I under the impression you were reading something vaguely literate and all the while you’ve been reading porn.”
“On the contrary. It was proper literature. You can get away with that sort of thing in proper literature.”
“I see.”
“So do you love me enough to piss yourself right now?”
Faith’s blue eyes widened. “Are you serious? You really want me to flood myself?”
“Uh, no. It was rhetorical but I was just wondering if you’d do something like that to prove how much you love me.”
Faith stared at me for a while before getting to her feet. She stood before me and then I saw a dark patch begin to appear on the crotch of her jeans. My God, she actually was wetting herself! I stared as the stain grew bigger and began to spread down her legs. The gleaming dark wetness of her piss slowly expanded as it soaked over her thighs, reaching to her knees. Then it snaked down the insides of her calves until I saw it dribbling into her trainers and forming a puddle between her feet. The dark, gleaming wet stain just kept on getting bigger, covering more of her jeans as she pissed. She must have had a full bladder because by the time she’d finished the front of her jeans were saturated with piss and the puddle at her feet was quite sizable. She then did a little pirouette and I saw the stain on the backs of her legs and up around her arse.
“There I’ve pissed myself. Satisfied that I love you?”
I didn’t know what to say. I’d never have expected this of Faith. Not to piss herself like this. I ran my hands up the soaking denim until I reached her crotch and started to open the zip to reveal her pissed knickers. They were white and the piss had turned them transparent revealing the dark shadow of her pubes. Faith grabbed the back of my head and thrust my face into the piss soaked cotton of her knickers. I inhaled the acrid smell.
“So how much do you love me?” she asked. “Enough to lick my pissed knickers?”
I didn’t hesitate to lick at the wetness, taking in the warm, salty taste. The worse part was the feel of the material on my tongue rather than the taste of the liquid on it.
“Now piss yourself while you’re on your knees,” she ordered.
How could I refuse? My cock was rock hard and it took a moment for me to release what I had in my bladder, but when it came it poured out. I felt the wet warmth around my balls and then as it dribbled down the inside of my thighs. Because I was kneeling it pooled at my knees. I squirted out every last drop that I could. All the while I was licking at Faith’s knickers.
“You done?” she then asked and pulled my head away from her crotch.
I nodded and looked down at my jeans. There was a stain around my crotch and down the inside of my right leg. I had to admit that it didn’t look as spectacular as the mess Faith had made on herself, but we are built differently in that department. I stood and the pooled piss at my knees could now work its way down the rest of my legs. I didn’t leave as spectacular a puddle as Faith.
“Wimpy,” she said.
“If I’d have known I’d have had a few more beers at dinner,” I said, running my hand up and down the wet stain on my jeans.
“Well I guess this means that we do love one another.”
“Love means never having to remove your jeans when you go to the bathroom.”
Faith grinned. “Actually it feels kind of sexy, but I still think I’d prefer a box of chocolates as a sign of our love…”
PeeJay