Wet Weekends

Each wet weekend May and I have three sessions. Friday there is the need to hydrate and that means establishing a level playing field. What with drinking tea and coffee as well as alcohol we often start off in a dehydrated condition so we play ‘hold it’ to start with. If we meet in a public place its off to the pub and take in a pint or two of shandy followed by fresh orange. The task is then to reach the boat without losing any.
After eating, the next round is usually messy involving May finding interesting and unexpected ways to force me to put my clothing in the washing basket. Anticipating when she will do this has become one of my major tasks since she is cunning. Once she held until after the meal then went to the toilet like a normal person. Half an hour later she came to sit on my lap and I thought I would stay dry. She must have a second bladder somewhere. On another occasion she suggested a walk in the country. We went a few hundred yards from the boat and climbed a gate into a field. Her skirt caught in the bars and as I reached through to unhitch it she showered my neck and shoulders.
However she doesn’t always win. An evening cruise proved to be her mistake. She’s more than capable of handling the boat herself yet on this occasion she was insistent that she needed help in steering. I smelt a rat. “You take the tiller and I’ll stand behind to see how you do it,” she said.
As the wheelbox is very small I knew she would have to be close indeed.
Fortunately for me she breathes audibly before peeing and I heard it.
Straightaway I stepped to one side saying, “Mow you can see how it’s going, take over while I put the kettle on.” She’d gone too far to stop and pissed all over the wheelbox floor while I counted it as a win for me.
Once we have spent Friday evening flushing out the previous week’s coffee and other diuretics we plan the following two days. Saturday morning is usually some sort of shopping expedition for which we prepare with a big bathroom experience. Bowels can be an “inconvenience” in our games since we neither of us happen to find lumps a turn on. We allow as much of a pee as we can manage then we wash each other all over and have to accept whatever clothing the other requires.
Because the second part of the shopping expedition is the game we call ‘holding hands’ it’s necessary to dress in something that causes the maximum stimulation. My most successful discovery was that May finds plastic pants erotic when they are her only underwear. They brush and tickle and never have the same temperature as her mound. The idea of the game is that we must each carry a bag in one hand so that when we hold hands there is none free to adjust clothing or relieve pressure, and then the first to give in and pee loses. At first we tried starting out with 2 pints of warm water and found we both survived till arriving back home on board.
Our second ‘holding hands’ game started with 3 pints and ended even before we reached the shops. She’d dressed me in her long skirt with a velvet jacket, purple and green are not my colors anyway and May had to wear my big working boots and a pair of my tightest gray trousers which we couldn’t fasten because she’s a bit wider than me round the middle. As we were about to leave the canal bank we had to cross over the lock gates, which require a degree of balance. May wobbled and stretched to hold my hand, which caused my trousers to slide down her thighs, which, as usual in our games, caused uproarious laughter. I began to leak but held it before I’d soaked the panties she gave me. We made it to the lock side where steps led up to the main street but before we could readjust ourselves and refasten May’s safety pin she peed volumes mainly on me and the extra laughter was too much for me and I did the ‘ladies emergency toilet.’ Right there within 10 feet of the shoppers on the bridge above we did a quick change of trousers and skirt, thinking it would have been difficult to get served when dry let alone wet like this. As it was we only had to cope with soggy underwear.
I came off looking much worse as tight trousers soon show wet. We did the shopping very quickly without too many stares and returned to the quiet of the canal bank.
There was another time when our crazy streak got us into trouble again during a shopping trip. For once we were dressed normally with the addition of a pair of leather belts joined together, round our waists and twisted between us so we had to walk very close together, enclosed by the two loops of a figure of eight. It’s not that odd to see two people walking with their arms around each other’s shoulders but when they really want to pee very badly their antics must be a sight for sore eyes. In the supermarket the cashier thought we were mad. The supervisor was completely puzzled when May tried to persuade me to go into the ladies and I insisted that we go everywhere together. She wouldn’t let us go in. Then there was the greengrocer who could not see why adult people found the buying of leeks and peas so entertaining. That trip had to be abandoned half way through because it was certain to result in a public wetting.
Even abandoning the day was not without its funny side. We were picked out as drunks at 11 o’clock in the morning and told to leave the pharmacy. As we tottered out briskly the manager rang for the police. We even saw a police car arrive at the shop as we crept through the narrow gap in the wall back to the canal bank. It is just as well we didn’t have to explain ourselves since we both burst less than ten minutes later. Two respectable looking ladies walking their dogs saw us and our state but were surprisingly laid back about it, commenting“Having a good time?” and leering at us.
Squelching back May said, “I couldn’t have believed it if anyone told me a year ago I’d be doing this and enjoying it.” The plump girl who always stood in the background afraid of some rebuff had gone and in her place was a jolly, sexy, self–assured young woman. She looked taller and thinner because she was less worried about her appearance, she stood upright, looked people in the eye and nothing in the way of conversation caused her any embarrassment. As a final bonus the frequent drinking of plain water had improved her complexion and general feeling of well–being. The third session of the weekend takes place on Sunday afternoons since I always go out on Sunday mornings. We play in that session, sometimes it’s just childish, and sometimes it’s sun bathing till we can’t hold out any longer. It is amazing how much less you can hold on when you are near your own loo. Once or twice we played May’s game with cards as described in episode one. Another game when too full is ‘stand up, sit down’. Whatever one does, the other does the opposite. If I pee a cup full she must drink a cup. If she stands I have to sit, if she puts her hands above her head I must put mine on the ground etc. All this while your system is demanding an immediate toilet stop makes for short rounds. As we say ‘the loser’s the leaker.’
Although it’s not really about watersports I think it is worth recording that we could not avoid having a great deal to do with the intimate workings of each other’s bodies. We observed, washed, kissed, stroked and tended those bodies intimately. We came to know each other so closely that any inhibitions donated by society were discarded. Despite all our shocking games we did not give up self–control but rather chose when to exercise it. During the times we were apart, both of us slept in dry beds, went to the toilet when necessary and had no more washing than ordinary folk. We even learned to put up with our little foibles.
May had a favorite pair of soft pink panties, which she took everywhere. When she came to visit she either wore them or had them in her bag. Part of our ritual was that when I saw her off on the bus or train the last thing I did was to say for the benefit of the other passengers “Here’s something in case you need them” and hand over a new pair of panties. She always accepted with a giggle but refused to do away with her favorites, discolored, worn out, split seam and helpless elastic, they returned each time. I was flattered to hear her most personal secret about those panties but I shouldn’t tell it here. What we learned is of interest to other water sportsmen and women.
First, that holding on increases sensitivity in the genital region. Second, that drinking frequently over several days leads to a complete inability to hold it. Our normal regime was to take in 300ml a little more than once an hour for 12 hours. By Sunday night ‘gotta pee’ occurred every twenty minutes or so from one or other. Thirdly there is a loss of fluid somewhere because we never let out as much as we took in. It so intrigued us that we bought a measuring jug to prove it. The figures for three consecutive days were:
In 4500 ml Out May 3800 Me 3525 In 5200 ml Out May 4050 Me 4000 In 4800 ml Out May 4200 Me 4175
These figures should probably be modified to include several leaks and perhaps a further 300 each into the bed on the second night.
Fourth, we found that the sexually stimulating sensation of urinating applies to both men and women.
Fifth, we found that peeing when overfilled in the last hour or two before sleeping left us feeling as satisfied as if we had enjoyed full conventional orgasms. It was this that convinced us that it was a satisfactory substitute for penetration when accompanied by slow mutual stimulation.
Last, we have come to feel that our friendship at such an intimate level, whilst not as intense as a straight sexual affair, lasts so much longer that we prefer it. Whether this would be the case if we lived together I cannot say.
May sends her thanks for your site and to all the people who have posted their fantasies and experiences. We’re not a ‘normal’ couple and don’t want to be but it is beginning to look as though very few people are completely straight. So I send my thanks as well and wish all of your readers, “wet dreams.”
All that remains is to apologize for my writing style and typing and to welcome any who want to email me to do so at: ccco@myisp.co.uk.
Yours,
Robert and May