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Weasel

Soaked Member
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Everything posted by Weasel

  1. Hi everyone! Been a while! This one is just a quick one-off tale, but, as they say in the movies, "Based on a true story." In fact there are a few things in here that are 100% true. Try and guess which ones! ...All right, I'll give you some hints. Places Lines Credit cards ---------------------------------------------------------------------- The line wasn’t moving. The man stood with his duffel bag at his feet, approximately at parade rest, examining the decorative mural of California for the fourteenth time. The woman, shifting from foot to foot, restlessly checked her phone every few seconds. He was dressed in a t-shirt and quick-dry pants; she was in a long-sleeved blouse, a little tight around the bust line, and shorts. His hair was longer than hers; she was maybe a couple years older than he was. There were only three or four people ahead of them in line, and there were no fewer than four counters staffed at this rental-car agency—and yet the line wasn’t moving. Three of the counters were occupied by other customers, and had been since the woman had walked in and taken her place behind the man. The fourth counter appeared to be closed, though an employee was busily typing away behind it. Then the glass doors slid open and a couple walked in, went straight to that fourth counter, and immediately started doing business. “What, they’re just skipping the line?” the woman muttered. “Seriously,” the man said. “The line’s the best part. I wouldn’t want them to miss out on the joy of standing in this line…” She grinned, and shifted her weight. “I know, right?” “LA seems very focused on lines, have you noticed?” he went on. “Lines for the rides at Disneyland… lines for the boat to Catalina…” “Oh believe me, I’ve noticed,” she said with a sigh, and shifted again. “I just spent a lot of time in traffic.” “Where are you coming in from?” he asked. “I’m from Mississippi,” she said. “Heading home, then?” “No, but I need to swap out the car.” He looked slightly puzzled, so she kept explaining. “I’m here on business. Well, I was here on business. But my husband’s flying in and we’re going to drive up to see the redwoods.” “Oh, nice!” the man said, with only the faintest of reactions at the word “husband.” “And we can’t use the car my company rented, so…” She shifted, then immediately crossed her legs. “Got it. Where in Mississippi, if you don’t mind my asking?” “Pascagoula!” He smiled a little ruefully. “I gotta admit I’ve never been to Mississippi. Where is that?” “Gulf Coast. Near Biloxi.” She pronounced it correctly, Bih-lux-ee, although she had no other trace of a southern accent. Two more couples came in and got in line behind them. “Ah, that helps. I teach social studies, so I’ve got a map in my head.” She smiled. “Oh, okay!” Recrossed her legs. “Where are you from?” “Well, here, originally, but I’ve lived in Portland, Oregon, for most of my life.” He sighed. “LA is not my favorite town, but that’s where the family is. My grandmother’s ninety-seven, so every time I can visit, I do.” “Wow!” she said. “That’s impressive!” “Yup. And still got most of her marbles, too, when she’s healthy. Apparently urinary tract infections can cause serious disorientation. Who knew?” “I sure didn’t,” she said, wincing. “Oh, sorry—was that TMI?” “No, it’s okay. I honestly hadn’t heard that. I just hope I don’t end up with one myself! I, uh, really would like to find a bathroom soon. Sorry, that probably was TMI…” He shrugged. “Happens to us all—oh, but you said you were just stuck in traffic! That’s the worst!” “It really was.” “They’ve got to have a bathroom around here somewhere,” he said, eyes darting about. “They should, shouldn’t they? I was gonna ask when I got up to the counter, but this line is not moving at all.” The man’s eyes traced across white letters printed on the plate-glass window. He started to say something, hesitated, then said, “Ah, I see. The sign says restrooms are in the hotel next door.” “Where?” She glanced around. “On the window.” “Oh, wow. I can’t even read that, I’m impressed.” “Teacher,” he said with a shrug. “I can read upside-down, too. Comes with the territory.” She re-crossed her legs and bounced for a moment. “You want to run over there and find the restroom?” “I don’t want to lose my place in line…” “I’d save your spot.” “Thanks, but I’ll be okay. I just need this line to hurry up.” As if on cue, two of the customers at the counters left, and suddenly the man was second in line, and the woman third. “Well, look at that,” he said. “Anything else you need? Maybe ask for ten thousand dollars while you’re at it?” She grinned again. “I wouldn’t want to press my luck.” “Fair enough.” Her phone buzzed. “Finally!” she said, read the text, and then sighed in exasperation. “My husband,” she explained. “I told him I’d be swapping the cars and it might take a while and he said that was fine, he’d wait. But now he’s asking ‘Where are you?’, all impatient.” “Men!” said the man, making it a cuss word. She genuinely laughed at that, and squeezed her legs together. “It’s just like, ‘Boy, I’m standing over here trying not to pee in my pants so I can get the car and come pick you up.’ And he’s the one complaining.” The person ahead of the man moved up to the next-finally!-available counter. “You’re sure you don’t want to run over to the restroom? The way this line moves, you’d probably still be back in time…” “I just want to get the car, pick up my husband, and get to the hotel.” “Okay, but you can at least go ahead of me.” “Oh, thank you!” She stepped past him in line, then squirmed for a moment and ended up leaning on her arm against the nearest wall—and while she was doing so, she read the notice posted there. “Oh, shit,” she whispered. “Something wrong?” the man said. “Aside from the obvious…” he added, more quietly. “I don’t have my credit card. I’ve been using the company credit card for two weeks, and I never even thought…” “Is it out in your car?” he asked. “In your bags?” “I know exactly where it is,” she said. “It’s at home. In the freezer. In a block of ice.” “Ah, that old trick.” “But I can’t rent a car without it!” “That is a problem… and you can’t just use the company card? Pay it back later?” “My boss is real strict about that. I could get fired.” “Definitely not, then. Hmmmm. Well, does your husband have his card?” “I sure hope so!” She was genuinely squirming now. “Well, get him over here, then. And in the meantime you can use the bathroom.” “Was there a shuttle from the airport?” “Not that I saw,” he admitted. “In fact, I ended up walking.” “Next customer!” called one of the rental car people. The woman looked at her standing-in-line companion with a panicked look on her face. “Tell you what,” he said, “I’ve got my card, so I can get my car. How about you turn in the car you’ve got, then I drop you off somewhere? The airport, or your hotel?” “Next customer!” The voice was more insistent this time. “Could you?” “No problem. Go turn in your keys.” She hurried off. As he waited for the next available agent, he noticed her leaning on the counter, holding her upper body still but squirming like mad from the waist down. He didn’t have to wait long before the next agent waved him over, and he plunged in to the filling-out, initialing, and signing of forms. As the agent laboriously entered something into the computer, he did a “just casually looking around” sweep of the room, and noticed her standing just outside, texting, almost hopping from foot to foot. Finally he was given the car fob, was told where to find the actual car, and was instructed to enjoy his visit, and he could stride out to where she was practically dancing on the spot. “Sure you don’t want to run in to find the restroom?” he said. “It’ll take two seconds.” “My husband’s meeting me at the hotel, they have an airport shuttle,” she said. “Can we just go there?” Her eyes were desperate, but she sounded determined. He swung his duffel bag across his front, instead of his back, so that it covered the crotch of his pants. “Suits me fine—I didn’t particularly want to go back to LAX today. Got your bags? All right, then, let’s go.” It took a moment to find the car. It took another moment to figure out how to pop the trunk and get their bags in. And then, when they got into the car, it was of course an oven, having been sitting all day in the Los Angeles sun. He turned the air conditioning up to full, and took a third moment to adjust the mirrors, figure out where the parking brake was, etc. As he turned in his seat so he could see where he was going as he backed out, his eyes raked her body: legs double-knotted, hands folded demurely over her knee—but with white knuckles. A hint of hardened nipple under the tight blouse, in the blast of cold air. Her hotel wasn’t far away at all. A five-minute drive, really. But every red light seemed an eternity. “I really appreciate you doing this,” she said, during one of these eternities. “It’s barely out of my way,” he said. He was looking at her: she’d kicked off one of her sandals and was now sitting on her heel. Dancing on her heel, really. She certainly wasn’t sitting still. “Still, you didn’t have to do this.” Her eyes were fixed on the red light. “No problem. Happy to help.” He shot another glance at her, higher up this time: Nipples still poking through. Bra strap peeking out from under her shirt, though—so the bra must have been as thin as the shirt. It wasn’t giving a ton of support, either, for her breasts were bouncing slightly as she squirmed. “Here we are,” he said, turning into her hotel parking lot. He swung the car around into the waiting lane right by the front entrance. “Now I just hope like hell my husband hurries up and gets here!” she muttered as she got her sandal back on. Another moment while she figured out the locks. He popped the trunk for her as she she swung her bare legs out and gingerly got out. Having fetched her bag from the trunk, she leaned on the still-open door and bent over to give him a look of equally-blended gratitude and desperation. Her legs were crossed tightly and she was bouncing slightly on the balls of her feet. “Thank you again so much,” she said. “No problem! Enjoy the redwoods!” “You too!” she said, nonsensically, and closed the door. She strode up to the hotel entrance so fast, the sliding doors didn’t have time to get out of the way. He pulled forward very slightly, so he could see into the hotel. She was leaning on the front desk, as she had at the rental car company, but by now there was no way of keeping her upper body still. Her butt was practically writhing. The front-desk man pointed to the side of the lobby—but she shook her head and took her room card key. Turning away from the front desk she saw him still waiting. She gave him a big smile and a thumbs-up, then waved goodbye, and dashed for the elevators and out of sight. He slowly pulled away, turned out into the street… and immediately pulled into the parking lot of the Sizzler around the corner and took out a notepad. Pascagoula Nice body Bra straps, thin blouse Refused a restroom repeatedly Waiting for her husband? Holding it deliberately? He paused for a moment, then flipped to the next page and kept writing. Lying on the bed, legs crossed and drawn up to her chest, clutching her crotch Just in bra and panties Just in her shorts, topless shorts but bra still on Husband texts her that he’s almost there “Didn’t even get her name,” he sighed, and drove away.
  2. The Victorians have a lot to answer for. Frankly, I think this is largely true because it's true of everything: women are subtly told they are supposed to subordinate themselves. To everyone, really: men, kids, other women... So this is true, but not bathroom-specific. And also ridiculously awful. The way that conditioning ties people in knots... it's horrible to see, sometimes. Which is why I totally agree with this:
  3. I have written so many stories posted here along these lines. Because it is the BEST. I know this is a wetting site, mostly, but desp without wetting is my jam.
  4. ...Right. I totally knew that. I was just... y'know... checking to see if everyone else knew it too... (thanks!)
  5. This is fantastic. Yes, please, anyone know more from her? And I don't usually ask -- but can anyone rip this?
  6. My ex and I had sex a few times while they were holding -- and even though it's my kink, I think it was even better for them!
  7. Good question. No, I wouldn't. I've never shared the stories of anyone real, because I'd want their consent first, and that would mean asking for their consent... that's too awkward for me! Besides, I've lost track of her, and couldn't ask even if I wanted to. I hope someday to have another partner who's willing to try this and willing to have me write about it here, but that's a dream on top of a dream... All that said, I did take what actually happened and adapted it pretty heavily into one of the Meagan/Parker stories I wrote and posted here. I think I called that chapter "City Lights". It's in "Season 2", anyway. It's not at all the real thing, starting with the part where Meagan and Parker are sleeping together, but it could give you an idea.
  8. If she's at all sexually attractive to me (and I like a fairly wide range) it doesn't matter. The desperation in advance paired with her relief afterward is what I'm really there for.
  9. Definitely not into wetting. I put up with it if that's how I can get good desperation. I kinda wish that we had a holding/desperation sub-forum like the diaper lovers do.
  10. Ironically my therapist took it much worse than my partners ever did. (My shrink was great, just not on that subject.) I think it confused her. My partners, on the other hand, were all totally untroubled by it... the first one actually laughed at me because I'd been so ashamed of what they considered a fairly garden-variety kink, the second one said "It doesn't bother me," and the third said, "You know, I could do that for you..." The first woman I really loved, in college, got seriously desperate while I was in a car with her... we never got together, but I (guiltily) replayed that over and over in my head. Years later I finally got up the nerve to confess to her, and she said, "I would never judge you." I've been really lucky! But I also think the tides are turning a bit... kink in general is spoken of much more openly now.
  11. I'll chime in here too. Once in college on a bus trip a girl needed to pee and we were stuck in traffic. I felt awful, like brutally guilty at finding it at all a turn-on. Even though I wasn't turned on! Now I'm at the point where I won't get turned on unless it's a) totally consensual or b) totally fantasy. But I'll tell you this much: I still pay a lot of attention, even if I'm not getting turned on.
  12. I've told all of my partners and several other close friends. I told a therapist once and she didn't react well -- probably didn't know quite what to do with it -- but my friends and lovers haven't even batted an eye. The reactions have ranged from "it doesn't bother me" and "I would never judge you" to "I can totally do that for you." But it's not a thing I share around to just anyone!
  13. I've gotten the "That's it?" reaction several times. I think the huge variety of sexual experience available these days is making our kinks look pretty mundane! In fact I'm now at the point where I will always tell my partners about my kink. It's never been a dealbreaker.
  14. I was thinking a lot about this the other week. I saw a girl -- and the word really applies here, she was probably in her early teens -- with some pretty obvious signs of extreme desperation. And she was at a bus stop. Likely quite a long time from home. An ideal situation, for my tastes! -- Except for her age. So my heart rate went through the roof, but I wasn't sexually aroused. I felt nothing but an urge to help her. Which was impossible -- I drove past in the space of a few seconds, I didn't know her, and a guy offering a teen girl a ride is definitely "creep" territory. Strangely, it even put me off my game for days! I couldn't fantasize desperation without thinking of her, which short-circuited my arousal. This is definitely not always been true: in the past I would have been very turned on, at least afterwards. But I find this very reassuring, actually. I have apparently trained myself to insist on consent, at least in real people, and trained myself so well that it's not arousing unless it's consensual. So it can be done!
  15. I love desperation and holding, but I rarely go in for humiliation and wetting. So the vast majority of the stories and vids I love are "Just Made It". Tricky to find sometimes, though!
  16. Bree woke up feeling pleasantly full: heart full of love for her boyfriend; arms full of that boyfriend; bladder full of pee. She simply enjoyed the sensations for a while, drifting on the edge of consciousness. But when she felt Tam begin to stir—both in terms of waking up and in terms of hardening—she took matters into her own hands. And her mouth. When Tam came fully awake, Bree was gently kissing his hard-on in between strokes of her hand. For lube she was using her own juices, because her other hand was hard at work between her legs. “Mmmmm.” “Good morning,” Bree said, looking up at him. “Is this okay? You never really taught me how to do this.” “The reason I haven’t,” he said sleepily, “is that we really shouldn’t be doing oral without protection…” “Oh, no! I’m sorry!” “Too late now,” Tam said. “And honestly, we’ve been kissing each other so much, it doesn’t matter.” “I’m still sorry. I forgot…” “Well, since it’s too late—want me to teach you?” “Yeah! But if it’s okay with you, I don’t want make you come this way. I had someplace else in mind for that.” “Oh yeah?” She came up to kiss him on the cheek, and then whisper in his ear: “I gotta pee. And I want you in me.” Tam groaned. “Oh, Bree, love—I’m sorry, I thought of a problem with that, too.” “Huh? What problem?” “So apparently the way girls get UTIs from vaginal sex is that the guys’, um, cocks stir up the bacteria in the girls’ pee. It’s why I keep telling you, you’ve got to pee right after sex.” “Right…” “So if you’ve got a lot of pee, that could be a lot of bacteria.” Bree groaned too. “Oh, no! Tam, I really want to find a way to do this.” She whispered in his ear again. “It feels so good right now already…” “Sounds like, hon. But I really don’t want to make you sick. I’m told UTIs are the worst.” “Wait, I thought pee was sterile?” “Well, nothing’s totally sterile in our bodies. Even when we wash our hands, what we’re trying to do is just dilute the bacteria, since we can’t get rid of it.” “Well how about that, then?” Bree suggested. “I know how to dilute my pee, that’s easy! I’ve just gotta drink a lot of water, to the point where it’s not yellow at all.” Tam suddenly perked up. “You’re right! But it would be even better if you drank a lot of water and peed it all out several times. I’m told that’s one way to cure a UTI, anyway—makes sense it would help prevent one.” “Seems like we just got our project for the day,” Bree said. “Sit around having you drink water and pee?” “Walk around having me drink water, and pee a lot. And then,” she added, “once it’s all clear, then I’ll hold it.” “Walk around where?” “Somewhere with trees!” “Let’s take a look at the maps, then.” “First thing to do, though,” she said, “is pee out everything I’ve already got.” “Good point.” “Want to come with me?” she added, slyly. “It would make the line shorter for DeMarcus and Lisa…” This meant putting on at least some clothing. Then, in the bathroom, Tam gestured for Bree to go first, but Bree giggled and said, “You don’t have to wait, you know.” “Huh?” She sat herself down on the toilet, spread her legs, and said, “You can pee with me.” “I’ll splash all over you.” “Then let me aim you. That way it’ll be my own fault.” But they hit a snag: as soon as she took his penis in her hand, he hardened. “Sorry, I won’t be able to pee until I get soft again,” he said. She quickly let go. “No, hold on to it,” he said, “or I won’t get used to it and you won’t be able to aim.” “Wish you could hurry up and soften,” she muttered a few moments later. “I’m sitting on a toilet and I’ve got my legs spread and I’m naked from the waist down. I gotta go.” “You’re the one who wants us to pee together.” “I’m being stubborn today. We’ll wait.” Eventually he managed to start peeing. Bree so enjoyed the unfamiliar feel of the piss flowing through his penis that she almost forgot to pee herself. But her bladder quickly reminded her. Fortunately there was minimal splashing after all. They cleaned up, went back to Tam’s room, and got more completely dressed. Bree decided the day had come for her to break out her sundress—the one she’d worn for Tam on Skype. The thought crossed her mind—a very GGG thought—that maybe she should skip panties, since she’d be peeing so much today. But the Good Girl thought that followed was sensible enough: the sundress was fairly short. She needed something underneath. But she decided she’d skip the bra. So she’d be leaving the house wearing exactly four items of clothing: sundress, panties, and a pair of sandals. First, breakfast. Bree made pancakes—which even Lisa appreciated. And then Lisa had to head out, saying she couldn’t be back until tomorrow night, which would be the night before Bree left. So that worked out, too. Over pancakes Bree and Tam plotted their route for the day. First stop: Boston Common and the Public Gardens. The Common and the Gardens weren’t huge, but it was certainly historic—not many city parks could be said to be older than the country—and there were plenty of things to see. First things first, however—almost as soon as they arrived, Bree had whispered to Tam that she needed to find a bathroom for her first pee of their journey. The fact that they’d come up from the subway right next to a fountain hadn’t helped. Tam grinned up at her. “This is exciting already.” “It kind of is, isn’t it?” Searching the park for bathrooms was a good way of exploring, but it took much longer than Bree had hoped. Part of it was that the only bathrooms were fairly well hidden. Part of it was that Tam insisted on taking pictures of Bree posing in various places— “You’re doing this deliberately, Tam!” “Aren’t you?” “Oh, right…” —so Bree was getting a tad desperate by the time they finally found some restrooms in the visitor’s center. And then naturally there was a line for the ladies’ room, although thankfully it wasn’t long. Much relieved, Bree refilled her water bottle and herself from a water fountain, and then they kept exploring. They didn’t go out in a swan boat (saving their money for later), but Tam did get another picture of Bree posing with a boat in the background. And there was the duckling statue. Tam’s tourist-in-his-own-hometown attitude was infectious. After a while, however, they’d run out of things to see—and Bree was already starting to feel the need for another bathroom break. Instead of backtracking, however, they took the subway to the zoo. It wasn’t a long ride, but again Bree felt a bit more pressure for not knowing exactly how long a ride it was going to be. Fifteen minutes, as it turned out, and she held it easily until they were through the gates and in the zoo. Here, however, Bree got an idea—another GGG idea. Suddenly she really wanted to pee outside. And it simply wasn’t going to happen in the zoo. Too many people, especially kids. So she dutifully went off to the bathroom, but when she came back she whispered to Tam that she wanted to find a place where she could really let loose outside. “Huh,” he said, scouring Google Maps. “A big ol’ golf course and a bunch of cemeteries.” “Too many people on a golf course.” “Probably not too many people at a cemetery,” he pointed out, eyebrows up. She considered it for a GGG second. But then, before the Good Girl side could even offer its opinion, she rejected the notion on GGG grounds. “Massively disrespectful.” “The dead people don’t care.” “Their families would.” “You’re right, you’re right. Let’s see, what other options do we have…?” “There’s a park…” “Looks pretty open on satellite view. No trees, no cover… well, well, what do we have here? A nature center.” “Perfect!—Wait. How far away is it?” “About 45 minute walk?” “Perfect!” After wandering around in the zoo a bit—to justify the money they’d spent—and refilling Bree’s perpetually-empty water bottle, they left and headed for the nature center. The most direct route was noisy and not terribly pedestrian-friendly; the alternate route was winding, and again Bree was feeling the tension of “How-long-will-it-take-to-get-there?”, although she was far from full. Finally they found the place, after only a couple wrong turns. Then they strolled around the trails until they found a good place. They’d seen people on the trails, if not many, so Bree wanted a fairly secluded spot. The trails seemed mostly to run through wetlands, which would be good for hiding her puddle, but wasn’t so good at concealment. Finally, at the far end of one loop, they found some trees. Bree looked around for traffic, then hiked up her sundress and dropped her panties, tucking them into her bag next to her bottle. Then she kicked off her sandals and squatted down, ready to spring back up and drop her dress hem if anyone came. “Tam, you’re supposed to be watching!” she said, as she started to pee. “Believe me, I am.” “Watching for other people, I meant!” “Can’t help it. This is just fascinating.” He did glance around for other walkers, though. “Well in that case—is my pee clear?” “Looks pretty clear, yeah. Still a hint of yellow, though.” “I’ve been walking a lot, using up water. I need to drink more!” He bent down to kiss her as her flow tapered off. “Had to seize the opportunity,” he said. “You’re not usually beneath me.” “I plan on being beneath you a lot.” “I’ll kiss you then, too.” Just then she spotted someone coming, and had to stand up. No chance to put her panties back on—and she was still dripping, after all. So they walked on. She felt bold and daring out on the paths, but as they left the trail system she also felt nearly naked. “Can we stop somewhere before we go home? I’m hungry and I’d like a restroom so I can put my panties back on. And maybe pee one more time.” “Sounds good. Though I’m fine with skipping that middle step if you are.” “I’m not,” she admitted, tugging self-consciously at the hem of her dress. “Want to go back to the trees?” “No, we can keep going. But I don’t want to walk all the way home bare-assed.” They found quite a lot of restaurants nearby. Not food Bree was used to, but she felt daring enough to try something new, especially if she got to use the restroom. She did indeed pee one more time, and it was pretty darn clear. “I’m ready,” she told Tam as she got back to the table. He squeezed her hand and smiled at her with such joy and delight she had to grin back, entirely infected with his enthusiasm. Love this guy. Really do. They ate a meal that proved a little spicy, and Bree would have been guzzling water even if that hadn’t been part of the plan. The waiter, speaking with a Haitian accent, laughed as he poured her a third glass of ice water. “Works perfectly,” Tam pointed out softly and slyly when the man had moved on. She quirked her eyebrows upward in acknowledgment, and took another deep drink. They lingered a while after they finished eating—they’d been on their feet since the zoo, and it gave the water time to hit Bree’s bladder. When she felt the first need to go, she leaned forward and whispered so only Tam could hear: “I gotta go again. Just a little.” He nodded, listening intently, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. “But I’m not going to go.” He nodded, smiling with their secret. She lowered her voice even more. “Not until after you’re in me.” He shivered involuntarily. The shiver went all the way down his arm and turned into a big squeeze of her hand. “Let’s go,” he whispered back. He paid and they headed out. Half an hour’s walk to go. Ten minutes into the walk Bree began to wonder if the third glass of water had been the best idea—but in the sense that she really couldn’t decide if it had been a mistake or a genius move. The pressure mounting in her bladder was quickly spreading to her clit. “I want you so bad,” she whispered to Tam. “Halfway home,” he told her, squeezing her hand. Soon Bree was being driven wild. She had to pee, quite a lot—but all her thoughts were of Tam, of his beautiful body all over her, in her, moving in her… The day was hot and she was tired from walking and the pee was starting to slosh in her bladder. Otherwise she would have run back to the apartment, dragging Tam with her. Carrying him if she had to. It was good that there weren’t any parks or secluded areas of the kind they’d passed earlier, or she might have just dragged him behind a tree and had her way with him right there and then. And then peed a river. If she hadn’t been able to see Tam’s neighborhood coming up ahead, she might have turned back. She was definitely desperate by the time they got to Tam’s building—desperate to pee, yes, but desperate for sex, desperate for him. She was antsy, shifting from leg to leg, as he unlocked the outer door and got them upstairs. She wanted, so badly, to pull up her skirt right then and there and shove a hand into her panties. But whether to hold her pee or finger herself? Much more the latter. But inside the apartment Tam surprised her. “Whew,” he said. “Don’t know about you, but I want to take a little breather before we do anything else. That was a lot of walking.” “We’ve hiked a lot longer than that in a day,” Bree said, surprised—but she was a little footsore, too. As they sat down on Tam’s bed, however, it was clear that Bree couldn’t sit still for long. And her gazes at Tam were basically pure lust. “I want you so bad, I can’t just sit here,” she whispered in his ear. “Mmm, I still need another minute,” he said. “But I actually had an idea. Can you do me a favor?” “Sure! Wait, what is it?” “Heh. I was hoping you, bein’ all tall an’ lanky as you are, could help me redecorate.” “You want me to redecorate? Now?” What is he thinking? I gotta pee. And I wanna fuck his brains out. She noticed in passing that her GGG side was totally in control by now. “Well, I think you might appreciate this,” he said. “Help me take down the posters? You know the ones I mean.” “Oh! Tam, I didn’t mean I wanted you to take them down…” “Well, like I said, I haven’t been looking at them so much lately. And they can be a bit distracting, now. Can you reach the top ones, or do you need a chair?” “I’d better get a chair.” So Bree, ready to throw her boyfriend down on the bed and mount him—and also ready to hike up her sundress and pee behind a tree, not that a tree was available—instead found herself taking down cheesecake posters. Even the apparently-cherished ones of Meagan Fox and Eliza Dushku. But that need to pee couldn’t be distracted. She was squirming, crossing her legs, and occasionally simply grabbing. When she grabbed, though, she was careful to apply a little extra pressure to just the right spot. It wasn’t until she turned around to hand a poster down that she realized what Tam was up to. He was standing there, admiring her, with a bulge in his pants. “Tam!” she mock-scolded. He grinned, entirely unrepentant. “I thought you could hold it a bit longer. And I thought a distraction might help you do it.” She let the poster drop. This guy! “Tam, you twerp,” she said, “get up here and kiss me.” “Kiss you, sure,” he said. “But why get up? You’d just have to get down—and this looks like a good position…” And with that he started kissing her legs—working his way up. She grabbed the hem of her sundress and pulled it up for him. He returned the favor by grabbing the hem of her panties and pulling them down for her. The next few minutes were exquisite agony for Bree. Bare legs, no panties, and a bursting bladder all screamed Pee Now at her. But she didn’t want to let go. For one thing it would have released all that lovely pressure inside her. For another she would have flooded her lover’s face. Trying to strike the balance was hard. She couldn’t cross her legs. She couldn’t clutch herself. Tam’s tongue was doing amazing things, but “helping her hold” wasn’t one of them. She could squirm—until Tam had to grab her hips to keep from losing his place entirely. “Oh, god, Tam, that feels amazing but if you keep doing it I’m gonna pee all over you. Or fall on you.” “Well, we don’t want that,” he said, sounding a little smug at his prowess. “Here, let’s switch. You get down, I’ll get up.” She got down off the chair, and he passed her on the one. But he grabbed the hem of her dress as he did, and pulled it up and over her head. Then he got down on one knee to balance the extra height the chair had given him, and kissed her properly. Her hands went to work, too, now that she could reach the zipper of his fly. Well, one hand went to work on him; the other stayed busy on her. Mostly keeping the pee inside—she didn’t need much more to keep her passion inflamed for him—and she could cross her legs by now, too. Besides, he kept his balance with a hand on the wall, but his other fingers found her ever-sensitive nipples. So she was still getting plenty of stimulation. Finally the kiss broke, and she gasped, “Tam… if you don’t… fuck me… now, I’m gonna… explode. …One way or another.” He got down off the chair he’d just climbed, finished stripping, and gently bent her over the bed. She grabbed a pillow to clutch—one-handed. The other was still too important holding back the flood to go elsewhere. His fingers on her vulva felt fantastic. “Wow, I don’t think I’m gonna need any lube at all, even with the condom,” he said. “Nope!” she said, with a sudden surge of pride. “But hurry…” “I’m trying,” he said. “But you’re so tight. Can you relax a little?” “Uh, I can try—but I might pee on your floor. And you.” “Worth it.” “Okay, I’m trying…” “Gotcha,” he said in triumph. “I’m in.” “I know, silly, I can feel—oh my god, Tam, oh my god…” “Is that good?” he asked, bending forward over her back. “Tam, Tam, this is so amazing. Don’t stop, don’t you dare stop, I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—I am coming…” The contractions went rippling through her. “That was fast,” Tam said, still thrusting. “Don’t stop! I think I can… I can… ah! Ah, fuck, Tam… I love you… so much. You feel sooo good in me… keep going, keep going…” He didn’t need her urging. “Bree, you feel incredible, too. I can’t believe how tight you are.” “Believe it… all that pee… aw, shit!” “What’s wrong? “I leaked. Ah! I’m leaking… every time… you thrust…” “I felt that, yeah. Do you wanna—” “Tam don’t you even THINK about stopping!” He laughed and pushed deeper. The next few minutes didn’t involve words. They moaned, they gasped, they sighed. And Bree just about screamed. Little spurts of Bree’s piss were splattering against Tam’s body, dripping down both their legs to the floor, with every thrust. Tam wasn’t stopping, but he was going slow. Bree was grinding against the bed, grinding against Tam, begging with her body for the double-barreled release. Tam gasped and somehow through the haze she felt him shudder with his climax. She reached for her own, her second, leaping for it like grabbing for a rope, and caught it, and burst. “Ahhhhh…” When she realized that she was the one moaning in bliss, and that she was spurting peeing all over, she was aghast. She frantically tried to stop, but her bladder was not going to be denied. “Oh, Tam, I’m so sorry, I can’t hold it!” “Just let it all out,” he said, stroking the back of her neck. “Oh, thank god,” she said, and did so. “Whew, you were holding a lot,” Tam said, laughing. “Am I getting it all over you?” “Right on me. Like a really warm firehose.” “Oh, Tam…” “We were gonna take a shower anyway.” “But the puddle…” “I think,” he said, “that you should be quite proud of this puddle. Quite an accomplishment, holding that much.” “This guy,” she whispered into the pillow, forgetting to only think it. “Hmm?” “You. Just you. I love you.” He kissed the back of her neck and slid out of her. “Take a look at your triumph, love.” She stood up and looked down. “Oh, shit, it’s huge!” “Yeah, but you did it right, got really hydrated. It’s basically pure water.” “We’d better clean it up, though.” “Oh, heck yes.” They ran around for towels, and eventually resorted to soaking it up with their dirty clothes (“We were gonna do laundry anyway, too”). And then they ran to the bathroom, because they were dripping her pee everywhere, and because Tam was dripping spunk, too. They scrubbed each other down. And then made out under the hot water, as they’d done that stunning night back at camp. --------------------------- To be concluded...
  17. A little delayed, sorry! But it's my busy time of year. Heads up, this is as close as I'll ever get to poop desperation. ------------------------------------------------- The next morning Bree woke up and realized she had a problem. She didn’t have to pee badly—which probably meant she was a little dehydrated—but she’d soon have to do more than just pee, and this wasn’t something the sink could help her with. She went into the bathroom… She looked at the toilet… She hunted through the bathroom and the kitchen for cleaning supplies… She hunted through Google Maps… …And she set out for the drug store she’d found a few blocks away, leaving a note for Tam on her pillow. She hadn’t brought a lot of cash. But her father had insisted she get a credit card—one with quite a low limit, admittedly. And so she rang up rubber gloves, a scrub brush, scouring soap, and bleach. By the time she was finished at the drug store, she definitely felt she needed to pee. She could also tell that it wasn’t so much from a full bladder as it was from limited space. Fortunately it was a short walk back to the apartment. And fortunately she’d thought to grab Tam’s keys. It took a bit to find the right one, but she managed. Tam was still asleep; DeMarcus’s door was still closed. She went into the bathroom and attacked the toilet. It was the right word. She really had to scrub hard to scrape off even just the top layer of the grime and gunk of who-knows-how-long. Every now and then she had to flush just to see what was left to scrub off, and the flushing sound was getting increasingly hard on her. It turned out it was hard to cross her legs while also kneeling on the bathroom floor. She switched to sitting on her heel. After several passes, she felt she’d made a big improvement cosmetically. But it was hardly clean. She dumped in a lot of bleach and scrubbed again, seat and bowl and tank and all. Finally she stood back, satisfied with her work. The trouble was that now she had to wait ten minutes before the bleach had really done its work. She decided to scrub the bathtub while she was waiting. The trouble was that she kept looking at her phone to see if it had been ten minutes yet. And time was apparently creeping. Since Bree had met Tam, she’d been involuntarily desperate because of a camper meltdown, a rainstorm, and public transportation. This is the most ridiculous yet. I’ve got a toilet right here and I’m still not using it… Before too long she had to abandon the pretense of cleaning the tub. She stood leaning against the wall, staring at the toilet, legs double-knotted, gritting her teeth. She had to go so bad. And the toilet was right there. Am I being an idiot? No, I know exactly how much crap—literal crap—I got off that toilet. She could hold her own crap—butt muscles being better reinforcement for that sphincter than pelvic muscles were for the other one. But the need to pee was skyrocketing. I’m gonna wait as long as possible. The full ten minutes at least. Fifteen if I can. She couldn’t. In fact she couldn’t even make it to nine. A few minutes later, much relieved in two senses but still irrationally worried she might have caught something from the now-sparkling toilet, she slipped back into Tam’s room. She was grateful she’d thought of the gloves; her hands would have been rubbed raw, and reeking of chlorine, if she hadn’t been wearing them. But instead she could snuggle up to Tam without waking him unpleasantly. By the time Tam finally woke up, Bree had another problem: she was quite hungry. She squelched this. Tam rolled over and kissed her. “Hey. You’re still here.” “Of course I am,” she said. “I dreamed you were gone and I couldn’t find you.” He sighed. “Nightmare. Glad it’s not true!” “Oh, honey!” She cuddled him extra-hard. The cuddling quickly turned into making out, and a little fondling as well, and Tam whispered, “Do you wanna do it again?” “If we’re doing it,” she said triumphantly, “you really should be able to say it.” He grinned. “Oh, you’re going there, huh? Well, in that case: wanna fuck?” “Mmm, not sure,” she said. “What you’re doing feels nice.” Really what she wanted was breakfast. But sex would be nice too. “Well, I could definitely be talked into fucking,” Tam said, “but if you’re not sure, I kinda gotta pee.” “And I’m kinda hungry.” “I think we’re talking ourselves out of it.” “Mmmmm, but what you’re doing does feel nice.” “I can keep going, then,” he said. “For a little while.” She returned the favor. He hardened under her hand, but she kept her strokes gentle and slow. Eventually, however, he had to say, “So now I really do need to pee,. So either you should stop touching me entirely, or go faster.” “Oh, come on,” Bree said. “You can hold it. I can hold it a lot longer than that.” He chuckled. “Yes, that does seem to be true. But right when I’m waking up…? But it’s your decision. Stop now or go farther.” “Why is it my decision? It’s your body.” “It is. But I’m letting my lover decide.” “Which would you rather?” “Stop for now,” he said with a sigh. “I could maybe do three times a day, but I’d rather pace myself a little…” “Three?” He grinned. “We did say something about practicing.” But he got up and went to the bathroom. When he came back he had a puzzled look on his face. “Bree, did you clean that toilet?” “Um—yeah.” “That’s… I thought it was just permanently stained. I’ve never seen it that clean! Holy shit!” She snickered. “All right, poor choice of words,” he said, rolling his eyes. But then he got more serious. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. “I kinda did,” she said. “I just couldn’t bear to put my butt down on that thing until I’d sterilized it.” He nodded reluctant acceptance—and then said, “Wait. You’ve gone to the bathroom a bunch.” “Mostly I used the sink. But that wasn’t an option this morning.” This time he shook his head. “Damn. God damn. I’ve tried to clean that thing, and it never worked…” “Just had to give it some elbow grease,” she said, miming a scrubbing operation. “Uh-huh,” he said. And somehow she felt like she’d embarrassed him somehow. “How about breakfast?” she asked, to change the subject. “Ooh, good idea. We’ve got some options…” Turns out everything he had in mind was eating out. She was getting hungry enough, and he’d slept long enough, that a big brunch made sense, so she went along with it. It took a little time, though, between deciding on a place, then walking there, then waiting for the food. Then it was her turn to be embarrassed, when he remarked on how hungry she seemed. “Well, I woke up a while ago,” she said. “You were asleep for a long time…” “Didn’t we agree that you should eat when you want to eat?” he said. “I wanted to wait and eat with you!” “Well, fair warning: when I’m not working or at school, I sleep pretty late. But also, don’t put off your needs for me! Don’t schedule yourself around me! Girls are always putting themselves second to guys. Fight the socialization, love!” She laughed, but felt a little awkward. To cover it up she saw a chance to be a little GGG again, and she took it. “Don’t put off my needs, huh? Welllll, what if I want to? Waiting on a certain something can end up feeling pretty good for both of us, no?” “Fair enough, fair enough—but we should still talk that out in advance. Mutual agreement for putting off that particular need.” Having eaten, Tam pointed out that they now had the whole day and could go exploring. After a quick stopover at home to brush teeth, they went off and did exactly that. It turned out they had very different tastes in what to go check out, which led to a little give and take on the subway as they sorted out where to go. They also had different tastes in art, but that had led to some interesting discussions. After a few hours they circled back to the apartment, and found they had company. As DeMarcus had said, Lisa was coming over. Lisa was a petite Vietnamese-American girl who was anything but meek and mild. She had forceful opinions on a wide variety of subjects that threw Bree into a spiral of confusion. Bree had never been more aware that she was from a small-ish city in Wisconsin; Lisa had lived in Vietnam and France as well as Boston, and drew on her wide-ranging experience to show Bree how much more she, Lisa, knew. But on a few things they bonded. Lisa was in full rebellion against a traditionalist family (although ironically it was her brothers, not her parents, who were the main problem in Lisa’s mind), and although Bree wasn’t about to flip off her family and leave as Lisa had, she did feel some kinship as Lisa described finding her own way—especially romantically. Bree got the distinct impression that Lisa had picked DeMarcus for his “taboo” half-Blackness as much as anything else. But they clearly got along well. Quite well. Lisa was also quite appreciative of Bree in one way: her cleaning efforts that morning. “Oh, girl, I am so glad you did that,” Lisa said. “There have been days I went back to my place just because I didn’t want to use that bathroom!” “Wait,” DeMarcus said. “So sometimes when you said you had ‘girl stuff’ you needed to do, you just didn’t like my cleaning?” “Well, yeah, honey,” Lisa said. (“Honey” sounded a bit more sour than sweet on her lips.) “Bree just bailed you out, but think about all the sex you could miss out on if you don’t keep it clean.” DeMarcus laughed. He did have an excellently rich laugh. “Understood.” A while after this, Lisa stepped into DeMarcus’ room and changed into her yoga gear. But she did her poses in the main room. Bree watched, amazed, as Lisa did some remarkable things with her body. But the amazement was mixed. Lisa looked like every straight man’s dream: small and sexy and super-flexible. And she was wearing skintight clothing. And no bra. After a while Bree started cooking so she’d stop staring, and perhaps as a way of proving herself. But even there Lisa intruded a bit. While she was appreciative of Bree cooking for everyone, she found Bree’s style a little bland and wasn’t shy about mentioning it. (Her bluntness in her Boston accent did dispel the “submissive Asian girlfriend” stereotype pretty ably, though. Later Bree realized that this was entirely deliberate.) To Bree’s discomfort, Lisa’s suggestions about possible additions really made it all taste a lot better. The guys, at least, were straightforward in their gratitude. Not long after the food was eaten or stashed for tomorrow, and after the guys had pitched in with the clean-up, Lisa drew DeMarcus into his room and closed the door. “Um,” Tam said, “we should probably go to my room.” “Why?” “They do get a little loud.” Even in Tam’s room with the door closed, both DeMarcus and Lisa were quite audible. Lisa in particular. (Later, Bree realized that this was probably quite deliberate, too.) All in all, it hadn’t been quite the day Bree had hoped for, and when Tam began kissing her ardently, to her own surprise she felt reluctant to respond. Still, she’d felt disconnected from Tam all day, and what could be more connecting than sex? So she decided to get him off, even if she wasn’t feeling excited herself. The trouble was, Tam wanted to try out some new things for her sake. He wanted to see how her body responded to certain positions. So Bree’s efforts at focusing on him somehow ended up with her bent over on the bed with Tam fucking her from behind. The annoying thing was, she could feel that the position was actually pretty good—it was a nice angle in her, and it allowed Tam to reach around and feel her clit. Everything was going quite well mechanically, and when she could turn off her thinking for a few moments it all felt great. But Bree felt extremely uncomfortable. She tried to focus on the feeling—the quite real pleasure he was giving her—but the timing, the position, and frankly all of Tam’s bikini posters, all added up to make her feel… off. Tam had kept asking “Does that feel good?” and she’d been able to answer honestly that it did, because it had. But then he asked, “How you doing, love?” and she just about burst out into tears. To his everlasting credit, Tam didn’t just stop thrusting but pulled out of her—gently—and immediately dropped down to the bed beside her. “What’s wrong?” he asked. It took a moment or two for her to speak, because she had to sort the tangle of emotions. At first all she could say was that Lisa was bothering her. She’d meant to imply Lisa’s opinionated attitude, but Tam said, “Oh! Are you feeling like we’re trying to compete?” “That’s it exactly,” Bree said—and felt that surge of connection to her lover she’d been missing all day. He gets me. He really does. Tam ran a hand through his hair in frustration. “Shit. I should have thought—they start getting it on, and I start feeling you up…” “And, well, Lisa was kind of showing off all afternoon.” “Oh, you mean the yoga?” “And the yoga clothes. Sort of both of those together.” Tam blushed. “Yeah. She’s like that.” “Do you think she’s hot?” “Um. Yeah. She’s very attractive. I used to get jealous of Marcus all the time.” “Used to?” “It’s like those posters,” Tam said, gesturing to the dozens of airbrushed curves in easy view from his bed. “All of that was freakin’ hot once. In the abstract it’s still sexy. But honestly—none of it really does anything for me any more. Why would I want them, or Lisa, if I could have you?” “Really?” “Really. You’re real.” “So if they were real—if you could get with them—” “Oh, whoops, bad phrasing. No, no way. I mean, nothing you see here is real. I’m not talking breast implants, I’m talking airbrushing, photographer’s tricks, the works. I mean, have those women eaten anything? Ever? Those pictures are supposed to make me dream. But that’s all they could be, dreams. Two-dimensional. You’re a real person. You eat, you fart, you piss, you sweat. You have hopes and fears and smart thoughts and you can wrangle pre-teens and climb mountains and longboard and cook and make me feel so cared for. They… can look pretty. There’s just no comparison.” “So you’re saying that if even you had the chance—” “Not unless they can get pre-teen girls to come out of their shells.” “Even those two? Both of them? Threesomes are supposed to be a dude’s biggest turn-on.” “Both at once? Not unless they can longboard.” He finally got to her: she laughed. “And Lisa?” “Lisa comes on strong. I should have warned you. She’s a lot more mellow after she gets to know you—or more accurately after you get to know her. She doesn’t want anyone, for a tiny instant, to think she’s a pushover. I mean, think about it. She’s the embodiment of certain stereotypes—until she opens her mouth. So she does that a lot. Especially around white folks.” “Oh! Oohhhh…” “Frankly—well, no. I shouldn’t be jumping to conclusions. So let’s just say that this is a possibility, not a fact. But there’s a real possibility that she feels threatened by you. That she’s making it really clear that DeMarcus is hers.” “Oh wow. Tam, you are blowing my mind.” “Well, that was the general idea. I was planning on doing it differently, but…” She giggled. “Let’s come back to that.” “So, take a breather?” “I want… I want to go for a walk. Just move my feet.” “There’s a park not far away.” “Perfect!” They got dressed quickly and headed out. It turned out that a short walk—getting outside and under trees—was exactly what Bree needed. She felt better as soon as they started moving. The trees completed the cure. There was no pretending they weren’t in a city. But it felt so, so much better. Bree actually hugged one of the trees. When she opened her eyes, and saw Tam watching her, she felt embarrassed—for about a second. Then she saw the light in his eyes. “There you are,” he breathed. She swept him up in her arms and kissed him. “Here I am,” she whispered back. “Don’t know what I was thinking, bringing you here,” he said into her shoulder. “What? This place is lovely!” “I didn’t mean the park. I meant the city. You’re so not a city girl.” “I’m not,” she admitted. “But I can’t—we can’t—live in the woods forever. So I’ve got to learn to be okay with cities, too.” “True. But we need to get out into the woods more, you and I.” “I approve.” “Maybe a long hiking trip?” “I definitely approve. But I will grant Boston this much.” “Hmm?” “One, even if it’s not the most comfortable, it beats the heck out of having you stay at my house. Trying to have sex with my parents around…?” “Hah. That sounds bad, yeah.” “And two, the trees are great. Hikes are great. But you did promise me a bed!” “Which we just ran away from!” “Well, maybe we should run back, huh?” “This wasn’t a super-long walk.” “Yeah. But I’m hugging you against my chest. And I’ve got no bra on. You’re rubbing my nipples.” Tam snaked a hand up behind her—under her shirt—to feel for himself. His fingers on her bare back… Yes please. Then she thought better of it and said it aloud. “Yes please.” “Yes please to what?” “To you touching me. All over.” “Here? Now?” She let him down—and in the process steered his hands to her butt. “No clothes coming off. Not yet, anyway. But—yes to you touching.” He caressed her tenderly, over her clothes, until she grabbed his hand and walked quickly back towards the house. And before long they were back in the exact same position (it really had been good!), with her bent over and him in her from behind—but this time she was biting a pillow to keep from crying out. ---------------- It was while they showered together afterwards—showering together for the first time since that so-memorable night in camp during the monsoon. (The tub scrubbing, which Bree had been forced to abandon earlier that day, had been finished by a team effort before dinner.) As the hot water cascaded down onto their bodies, Bree had felt a sudden urge that couldn’t be delayed or denied, and dropped into a squat. She sighed with pleasure as she added her own hot water. When she looked up at Tam, she noticed that he was getting a little hard again, even though he’d definitely come in her not so long before. She grinned up at him. “Still interested in this?” she asked. “Apparently I am,” he said. “So what I want to do tomorrow,” she said, standing up again, “is do more walking. Especially in parks. That’s been part of my problem, I haven’t been getting enough exercise.” “Well, we’ve been getting some,” he said, suggestively. “What we were just doing definitely counts, but it’s not enough,” she said, grinning. “But the other thing I want to do, if you’re willing, is try something new on this other side, too. You know holding it turns me on.” “Yup.” “And having you in me turns me on…” “And a good thing, too.” “So tomorrow I want to try both at once. Sex while I’m holding.” “This sounds like an excellent plan.” -------------------------------------------------------------- More coming, quite possibly later today.
  18. Thanks, y'all. It's good to change things up now and again, eh?
  19. So I generally write stories with a lot of realism. Despite my best efforts, they almost inevitably end up involving lots of character growth and personal development. I also like to sprinkle in a few life lessons now and again, things I'd wish I'd known earlier in life. Y'know, as a public service. This story has none of those things. It also has fewer descriptions than usual: fill in your own preferred details. It still has a lot of desperation and sex. Enjoy! ----------------------------------------------- Sonia woke up gradually, feeling the delightfully warm sun on her skin and the delightfully full pressure of her bladder. She sat up and stretched, feeling very much refreshed after her poolside. She’d risen late, breakfasted on a delicious smoothie, taken care of some chores, put up some posts on social media for her fans, worked out, taken a light lunch, and then enjoyed a swim in the pool—all without once peeing. And of course she hadn’t peed before bed last night, either. All of today’s pee, and quite a lot of yesterday’s, was clamoring for release. But she could hold it—until she had release of a different kind. She texted Alex. Hey lover. I *really* need to pee. But I want you first. Alex didn’t disappoint, quickly texting back: What are you wearing? Sonia posed herself in her bikini in the pool chair and snapped a picture: tiny bikini straining over perfect breasts and hips and ass and crossed legs, every curve of her body revealed. Including the one where her bladder was bulging. She sent the picture on its way. Perfect, keep that on, Alex texted back. Then, a minute later, several texts came in, one after another: 1) don’t pee until you cum 2) don’t cum until I make you cum 3) if you want me, come and catch me Sonia puzzled about that until she cocked her head at an unexpected noise: the garage opening. And then she heard the sports car’s engine revving. “Oh, shit!” she shouted, and ran for the door, barely remembering to take her phone. As Sonia flung herself through the empty mansion, she had to smile at her lover’s perversity. Sonia had deliberately cleared the house and the calendar for pee games this afternoon, sending the staff home early, and what did Alex do? Move the venue! As Sonia reached the garage, she was Alex flash her a cheerful smile—and then peel out down the driveway. Sonia stamped her foot with rage and desperation and delight all at once. Where was her lover going? And could she hold her pee until she caught up? Of course she could. She was, after all, extremely skilled at holding. It was sometimes an asset in her line of work; it was always an asset in bed, considering her own turn-ons and Alex’s remarkably complementary ones. Now, how to pursue? Neither SUV would never catch the sports car. But the motorcycle would. And Alex had even gotten her helmet out for her. More perversity. Sonia knew just how much pressure the throbbing engine of her bike would put on her bladder. And Alex knew it too, from a few delightful occasions. Sonia ran to the bike and started pulling on her riding clothes. She’d ridden the bike wearing a bikini a few times, but she wasn’t about to do that today—not when she needed to move quickly along major highways. Alex had left a note on Sonia’s riding jacket: Meet me at the marina. Sonia chuckled as she wriggled into her tight leather riding pants and zipped the jacket up over her bikini top. No need for the note; she’d figured that out from Alex telling her to leave the bikini on. She slipped her bare feet straight into the boots and swung her leg over the bike. Okay. The pants were tight and her legs were slightly spread. No help for holding her pee except grinding her crotch into the motorcycle’s saddle. Which of course was about to be humming like a vibrator. This was going to be a fun ride. She tore out of the garage and down the driveway, following the path her lover had taken a few moments before. At first she had to maneuver through traffic and couldn’t really go full speed. Then she hit the on-ramp and opened the throttle. There was traffic, of course, but Sonia was a skilled rider. Specifically a skilled rider who really, really needed to pee. She wove through traffic in a hurry, trying to ignore the thrumming of the bike between her legs, trying to ignore the screaming pressure of more than twenty-four hours of accumulated pee. She split lanes, passed right or left, and never went less than fifteen over the limit. If she got pulled over by a cop, a little grin and a little skin would take care of a possible ticket. Or maybe it wouldn’t, and the “speed demon” publicity would be good for her online image. Or no cop would catch her—could catch her—and she’d shave a few minutes off the trip to the marina. Win-win. Oh, but she had to GO! She had no choice: if she wanted to avoid peeing in her riding gear, she had to press her pee-hole right down into the saddle. Which she was almost doing already, since she was bent forward over the handlebars to increase her speed. But that meant that the vibrations were landing on her clit, too. She was getting wetter and wetter, she knew—but not a bit from piss. Every single bump in the concrete went straight to her bladder, however. It might not be long. But then the highway ended, dumping her onto the surface streets near the beaches and marinas. She had to slow down, which eased the vibrations and some of the bumping, even as it delayed her. But she was at least getting close. She parked the bike at the marina—and realized she didn’t have a key to the marina’s gate on her. In fact she didn’t even have her driver’s license! Okay, so a little grin and a little skin wouldn’t have gotten her out of a ticket after all… but maybe it could get her through the gate. She pulled off her helmet, letting her gorgeous hair fall loose, as she strode for the gate. (Of course she could text Alex. But that would be admitting defeat in the chase.) Sonia was in luck. She was instantly recognized by some of the marina regulars—and whether or not Sonia belonged on these particular docks, they weren’t about to leave her standing on the far side of the gate. A quick selfie with a star-struck fan—aiming the phone to avoid her crossed legs—and Sonia was in and on her way, blowing an apologetic kiss back over her shoulder. And then, for the second time today, she saw Alex heading off without her—this time in the speedboat. Honestly, she should have expected that… She ran to their slip. Why yes, Alex was still leaving breadcrumbs for her: one of the Jet-Skis was ready and waiting, key in the ignition, and another note: Follow the sun. But Sonia couldn’t pilot a Jet-Ski in her motorcycle pants. So: time to strip down. If those fans were still watching, they were about to get a huge treat. Boots off. Then the jacket—replacing it with the lifejacket. (Trying not to wriggle or squirm too much. She could bite her lip, though, or curse quietly.) Then she unzipped the leather pants and peeled them off. That was a relief of pressure on her bladder, but of course dropping pants was also an instinctual trigger. (More quiet cursing.) Still quite conscious of the possibility she was being fan-filmed, she ruthlessly suppressed the sudden urge to pee. (“Shit, I gotta go so bad.”) Then she swung her bare leg over the Jet-Ski— And just about flooded the saddle. Fans be damned, she had to grab herself. It was that or lose just about a day’s worth of pee right then and there—and all the sexual tension it was helping build up. One-handed, she fired up the Jet-Ski and coaxed it gently away from the dock. Taxiing through the marina at a safe pace was hard. Alex had had to do the same, though, so at least the lead wasn’t insurmountable. Then Sonia escaped from the piers and pilings, got her bearings, and tore off through the water, following the shimmering golden trail the sun was leaving for her on the water. And trying not to leave a shimmering golden trail of her own. It was the motorcycle all over again: the vibration, the impact. Except of course now she was surrounded by so much water. And the Jet-Ski was fountaining a plume of water out the back at all times. She was now cursing and gasping with the effort of holding. It wouldn’t be long before she’d be fountaining a plume of her own. And where was Alex? Sonia could see several boats out on the water on this lazy afternoon, but which was theirs? She really couldn’t hold it much longer; she was steering with one hand now, which wasn’t safe in the slightest, with the other hand clamped between her legs. She couldn’t resist fingering herself a little, which of course was even more distracting and even less safe. Her bikini bottom was definitely wet, and it probably wasn’t from the sea. It definitely wasn’t from the pee, or she wouldn’t be so incredibly bursting. Finally, in double desperation, she pulled her phone from the pocket of the lifejacket. She had to let go of her crotch to dial. “Where are you?” she yelled into the phone over the roar of the engine. “I can see you,” Alex replied calmly. “You’re heading in the right direction—but catch me if you can!” “Of course I can catch you, once I can see you!” “I’m waving to you. Yoo-hoo!” Sonia scanned the horizon. There! Silhouetted against the glare of the sun’s path. “Oh, fuck you. How’d you get so far out?” “Don’t waste time talking.” “You’re telling me not to waste time? I’m about to explode! I can’t even tell you how bad I have to go!” “Then you’d better hurry!” She hung up, pocketed the phone, and poured on every bit of speed she could. By the time she caught up, she was panting with the effort of holding, and moaning from her oncoming orgasm. The effort of holding off both, while straddling a Jet-Ski going full speed, was almost too much for her. She throttled back to match Alex’s speed, then screamed at her lover, “You better stop right now.” “Why?” “Because I’m about to fucking piss myself!” "Don’t do that! Not until we’ve fucked!” Alex called—and killed the boat’s engine. It took a moment for Sonia to kill her own momentum and swing back around. Alex threw her a line with a loop tied on the end, and Sonia tightened the loop around the Jet-Ski’s handlebars while Alex hauled the two watercraft closer together. Then, incredibly unsteady, incredibly horny and bursting all at once, she almost fell into the water. She fell into the boat instead—and into Alex’s arms. Sonia was quivering. “Lover,” she said, “please, I have to pee so incredibly badly. But I gotta– I-I’m bursting—I gotta cum first. And I can’t fit—oh my god—fit anything inside me bigger than your finger.” Alex kissed her. “You are so beautiful. And sexy. And amazing.” “Stop complimenting me and fuck me!” Alex bent her over the boat’s transom, fondling her ass and up her hips, then unzipped the lifejacket to get at her boobs. Sonia almost swore at her lover for wasting time, but then Alex undid her bikini top and found both nipples and waves of pleasure shot through her. But the real action was down below. Sonia was scissoring her legs, almost fast enough to burn. Squirming and bucking, trying to hold on a few moments more. There was no way Alex could get the bikini bottom off by pulling down (“Please hurrry, please, I gotta go so bad…”). Instead skillful fingers undid the knots on either side, and the tiny flap of fabric fell away from Sonia’s loins. (“Aw, fuck, yes!”) The bikini bottom was still suspended from her legs, squeezed so tight they were about to glue themselves together, but the way was open. (“Please, fuck me now, I'm bursting, it's so bad…”) Alex slid a finger into Sonia a moment later—gradually, carefully—while kissing Sonia’s hips and thighs and occasionally boobs. “Faster, faster!” Sonia cried out. “I’m gonna—I’m gonna burst! Oh, holy fuck, I can’t wait, go faster!” And of course Alex slowed down, crooking that all-important finger against Sonia’s clit from the inside… “Oh fuck, I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’M GONNA EXPLODEEE!!!” And she did. Every part of her was shaking and quaking with the twin pleasures of finger and pressure. Her legs jerked with her orgasm, no longer holding the flood back. Her pee pulsed in time with the waves of her climax, as the contractions pounded through her: squeezing—tightening, squeezing, tightening—and the blasts of piss went rocketing over the boat’s far side. Then, as all her muscles went slack in absolute bliss, a firehose stream went thundering out. With Sonia bent over, the firehose was aimed straight back, and also cleared the boat’s far side. Alex held out a hand to feel the pressure—and jerked it back with a gleeful laugh at the resulting huge splatter. “Fuck, fuck, that feels so good, oh Alex I’m in paradise, this is so amazing—fuck me, I still gotta go, but it feels so much better—” Finally Sonia’s stream began to subside—falling back into the boat. “Hey lover,” Alex whispered—one hand clearly busy generating another orgasm— “can you stop peeing for a second? Get your butt over the side?” “No fucking way,” Sonia gasped, bliss surging through her. “No fucking way.” Afterwards, Sonia was utterly exhausted and curled up next to Alex, naked except for the unzipped lifejacket letting her boobs hang out. But she already knew that after such a monumental hold she wouldn’t be able to hold it at all for a long while. She knew she’d be peeing over the boat’s side another few times, that golden afternoon… --------------------------------- I would like to acknowledge my debt to the porn fanfic story I once saw years ago entitled "Plot? What Plot?"
  20. Heads up, LOTS of sex in this one. ---------------------------------- She woke up hungry. Tam was snoring very softly in her ear, arms still around her. And his penis was tucked up against the small of her back—not fully hard, not fully soft. She shivered a little in anticipation, but the roaring in her belly overpowered her lust. Momentarily, of course. She rolled over and kissed him awake. This took a bit longer than she’d expected, although he started responding to the kiss before he was truly all the wake woken up—reflexively he kissed back. And he got harder, too. She resisted the temptation to finish the job of getting him up that way, and instead pinched him gently. “G’morning,” he said, nonsensically. “Hi,” she replied. “You’re here.” “I am.” “Really here, not a dream.” “Yup.” She pinched him again, to prove it. “What’s for dinner? I am starving.” He blinked a couple times. “Well, there’s not a lot in the house except for snacks…” “Apartment. Not a lot in the apartment.” He nodded, still shaking off sleep. “But there’s some good food on this street. How about pizza?” “Sounds great. Although anything would, right now.” He grinned, found his phone, and pulled up the menu. It was fun just looking at something together (especially since they were both naked)—she peered over his shoulder, reached around him to point to stuff on his screen, and got to kiss his cheek when he’d placed the order. “Twenty minutes till it’s ready,” he announced. “The place is practically next door—we’ll walk over and pick it up.” She leaned in. “Wanna make out until then?” “Absolutely—but first, my turn for a bathroom break.” He pulled on his boxer briefs and padded down the hall. This left her alone in his room, and for the first time she really had a chance to take it in. She turned the Venetian blinds so that she had more light to look, while not letting his neighbors look at her. “Hmmmm…” He had a lot of pictures and posters on his walls. Many of them were of places he’d been. Parks, for instance: Grand Teton, Rocky Mountain, Zion, Acadia. (Oh, and Fenway.) He had up a map of the National Parks/National Forest system, with pins in it, and some un-pinned places circled: Chaco, Isle Royale, Sequoia, Crater Lake. He also had up a picture of the Milky Way galaxy with a similar pin in it. But then there were the other pictures. Women in bikinis. Women in crop tops and cutoffs. Women in nothing at all, though everything was covered—if only just. Women draped over cars, over motorcycles, over boats, over each other. Seventeen women, all told, in fifteen pictures, and each and every one of them had more boobs and butt than she did—and less body fat. Tam stepped back into the room. “Whatcha lookin’ at?” he asked. She was tempted to avoid the issue, say she was looking at his map—but communication was key. “Um… all the cleavage.” “Ah.” He gave her a sheepish grin. “Yeah, I haven’t redecorated lately.” “I mean—I guess you like this kind of stuff?” He cast an appraising eye around his room. “Well, that over there is Eliza Dushku. Any red-blooded Boston boy has to have a poster of her up in his room. And that’s Meagan Fox: extreme sentimental value in that poster, she caught me at an impressionable age. But to be honest, I haven’t even looked at any of those lately. I’ve spent a little more time over here.” He directed her to the pictures over his bed. Picture after picture from Camp Bristow. Most of them with the campers, many of them involving gorgeous scenery. But front and center were three pictures of her. One on top of a mountain. One of her with her guitar. And one of the two of them. “I remember that one!” she said, jumping onto the bed on her knees to tap the mountain pic. “I was so mad at you for taking my picture when I was hottest and sweatiest.” “But you still smiled. And you were still gorgeous.” “This one with the guitar—when was that? Wait—is that Little Lyn? Was that the first time I played?” “Oh yeah. I had to be sneaky about taking that one. But I couldn’t pass it up.” “And this one of both of us…” “You’ll never guess who took that.” “I really can’t.” “Julia Bristow. It was our last night with the kids. And she was going around taking publicity photos, and saw us in the sunset light, and just had to take one, and sent it to me.” “Oh my god. She was so nice. That’s an incredible picture.” “Yep.” She swung around. He was still standing at the edge of the bed. She stretched out her hands to him, pulled him on, pulled him down. “One sec,” he muttered, grabbing his phone again. “Hmm?” “Just setting an alarm for when we have to go pick up the pizza. So when I go back to kissing you, I won’t have to watch the clock, and I can give you my full attention…” This guy. And indeed, they made out until his phone beeped. This meant they had to put clothes back on. Bree felt a tad gross putting on clean clothes when she hadn’t showered in days, but putting on her old clothes would have been grosser (not even counting the wet panties). So: a clean, bright-colored bra; a tank top over it; panties that almost matched; shorts; sandals. It was Boston in the summer: well over 80* and humid. (*that’s “well over 26” to the rest of the world) Not “New Mexico in the summer” hot, no, but the humidity was killer. They walked to the pizza place hand in hand, Bree pulling Tam along a bit and her stomach pulling her along. But it wasn’t far, as he’d said. Tam paid cash and they headed back. Bree snuck a slice as soon as they were out of the store. Not the best pizza ever, but she was hungry enough she didn’t care. Back at the apartment they took the box right back to Tam’s room and sat back down on the bed to eat and cuddle at the same time. “Thanks for dinner, sweetie,” Bree said through a mouthful of her third slice. “You’re welcome, of course.” “I didn’t eat much on the bus,” she said, explaining her appetite. “You don’t need to explain yourself, y’know,” he said. “You can eat however much you need to eat. Girls can eat however much they need to eat.” Oh. Em. GEE. This guy. Read my mind, better than I read it myself, and then just goes all supportive on me. A surge of affection rushed through her. Followed by a surge of attraction. She wanted him so bad. And I don’t have to wait any more. (But she finished her slice first.) “Hey,” she said softly. “Hmm?” She took his hand—the one without pizza in it—and held it to her breast. Not between her boobs, but directly on the left one. His hand on my heart. And my boob. “I want you,” she said softly. “Right now. Is that okay?” He set down his half-eaten slice, turned to her, kissed her. Let his fingers trail down her cheek to her neck, as he kissed her again. “Absolutely,” he said, when the kiss broke for a moment. “More than okay.” They lay down, to get rid of that height difference. And it was all kissing for starters. But: he kissed her lips, her cheek, her neck, her shoulders, lips again, down her arm to her hand. Their hands slid under each other’s shirts, and before long they sat up again to get the shirts off, and her bra. Then he could kiss a lot more of her, and she more of him. “I seem to remember,” he whispered, in between, “that these are pretty sensitive.” And he bent to her breasts. “Uh-huh,” she responded. Or maybe she didn’t—maybe she just sighed in bliss—but she arched her back to get closer to his caressing mouth. The direct line between her breasts and her labia did its work. Instantly wet. But Tam seemed to be in no hurry to get down there. He spent a long time on those breasts—kissing one, stroking the other—right on her hardening nipples, around her aurolae (very dark against her pale skin, as the blood rushed in), down beneath to where breast met rib. And it all felt so good. Almost overpoweringly good. “How’s that?” he asked. All she could do for a moment was moan. Finally she gasped out, “Uh—it’s all so amazing, but…” “Hmm?” “It’s almost too much.” “That’s pretty common, first time having sex in a long while,” he said. “It hasn’t been that long since we did it on the mountain.” “Ah, but this is better. No rush. That bed I promised you. And so we can take our time. But if you want me to move on…” His lips trailed down her belly. But he still didn’t go straight for the end zone. He spent some time on her hips and her navel. She hadn’t expected her hips to be a sensitive spot, but it felt nice. Suddenly she realized she’d been all receiving, not giving. “I’m just lying here. What would you like?” she asked. “Mmm, I really don’t mind being the active one right now,” he said, “but any skin contact is good. Once we get the rest of our clothes off I’ll show you what else you can do. But that might take a while. Like I said, we can take our time.” “Do you want me to take my shorts off?” “It does seem about that time.” “Underwear too?” “That can wait a minute.” He worked his way up her bare legs, still kissing and caressing. She momentarily worried what would happen when he got to some of her ticklish spots. But to Bree’s amazement, her ticklishness seemed overwhelmed by the sexiness. Context is everything, I guess! First he kissed her butt, which she wasn’t expecting. And then he nuzzled the crotch of her panties with his nose. “That can’t smell great,” she whispered. “Hush. That’s not what the nose is for, right now.” “Then what—oh.” “I’m guessing I found the right spot.” “God, yes.” After a few moments of that it once again felt all too intense. She couldn’t take the overwhelming sensation (and the overwhelming emotion). But rather than tell him to stop—since she didn’t really want that either—she redirected. “Time for underwear off now? For both of us?” “However you like.” She grinned, recognizing their secret code. “Can I take your clothes off?” “Of course.” She sat up. It was a nice break from the amazing-but-overwhelming sensations, and besides, now she got to touch him. Shorts first, then boxer briefs. His erection wasn’t rock-hard yet—but that began to change as she touched him. She remembered her lesson from the mountain meadow and kept her caresses light. “So,” he said, “now that we’re in a proper bed and with all the right equipment, let me show you something that can help with that. Because now we have lube.” He reached for the bedside table, but kept looking at her. After some blind one-handed fumbling in the drawer, he shifted his position. “That line would have been a lot more dramatic if I’d been able to grab it right away,” he muttered. “Well, if we need lube…” she said. “Oh, hey. Where did you find—?” He glanced back at her. “Right here,” she said, pointing to her groin. “I mean, I’m so wet right now. Why not share?” He chuckled. But she also felt his pulse rate shoot up. “Something about that just seems…” “Sexy?” “Right.” He cupped her hand. “Doesn’t seem to last quite as long as the commercial stuff, though.” “I have more.” “Yes please.” She dipped into herself and started stroking again. “So now that you’ve doing DIY lubing,” he said, “you can grip me a little tighter than that.” “How tight… oh wow. That seems really a lot.” “Well, that’s about as much as I can take. And not for long. Either it’ll start chafing or I’ll start coming. Don’t want either of that.” “Not even the second one?” “Not yet. So, if you ease up a bit…” She did so. He sighed with pleasure—but he didn’t forget her. He nudged her close alongside him, and a moment later she saw why: he reached down to finger her, just as she was fingering him. He found that wetness, as she’d mentioned, but then slid up—so slowly—until she gasped. “Have to find it all over again every time,” he said, “but luckily it doesn’t get far.” They caressed each other for a long minute. Then his fingers slid into her. She instinctively squeezed her fist in reaction, and of course that meant she squeezed him. He gasped and grinned, all at once. It felt so good. So good. But also… off. Maybe I just need to go for the real deal. “Tam?” “Mm?” She leaned close to whisper. “I want you in me.” “You’re all ready?” “Yes.” “For this we’ll need real lube. I mean, store-bought. Yours is real.” He turned away, and as soon as he could actually look in his drawer properly he found what he wanted. “We also need these.” Condoms. He expertly tore open one of the wrappers. Then he said, “How about you do the honors?” “Um, what do I need to do?” “Never done this before? Oooh, sex ed time.” “I mean, I’ve seen it done. …On a banana. …On YouTube.” He laughed. “Lube first. Especially on my tip. That’s where I’m most sensitive, you know.” “Oh! I didn’t.” “Lots of sex ed! Awesome. Next, pinch the tip of the condom. You want to leave some room.” “How come?” He chuckled again. “How come? Because of the cum, lover. It needs a place to go. Never works perfectly, but still.” “Okay, I get it. I think.” “You’ll get a much better visual aid soon—okay, yeah, that’s good. Now just unroll it down over me.” She did. “A little more lube over it all…” She did this, too—and added a few strokes, of her own initiative. “Perfect,” he said. “Now.” He laid her back, gently. Bent down to kiss her. Felt her with his fingers. And—slid in. Oh yeah, that feels nice. He moved in her, slowly, gently. “How’s that feel?” he asked. “It’s nice.” He was at a perfect height to kiss her breasts again. That was nice, too. All nice. He kept his thrusts even and slow. Patient, tender. It seemed to be working quite well for him—and then she realized she didn’t have to guess. “How’s that feel for you?” “Bree,” he whispered, “you feel amazing to me. I wanna savor this. I wanna remember this moment a long, long time.” It was all so nice. It felt so right, having her lover in her, seeing him move above her… She wasn’t getting that much more turned on, though. “Still okay?” he asked. “It feels good. But… shouldn’t it feel great?” “It’s feeling great to me,” he said—and stopped thrusting. “What’s wrong?” “Nothing for me. But I want it to feel great for you too.” He was starting to pull out of her! She wrapped her legs around him. “Don’t stop.” He grinned down at her. “If that’s what you really want. We could shift position, though…” “Don’t stop.” He began his thrusting again. “How’s that?” “Better. This is a better angle.” And it was. But it wasn’t brilliantly better. After another few moments, Tam stopped again. “Still wrong?” “If it’s not feeling great for you, I want to try something different.” “But Tam—this is, like, special. It’s our first fuck.” “And to be honest, the first time is usually like this—awkward. Not magic.” He kissed her. “I’m having a wonderful time, hon. But it’s totally fine to take a break, switch things up, whatever we need to do.” She felt bad and grateful all at once. “Okay. Just a quick break, though. I wanna make you come so hard.” “And you will,” he said, and pulled out of her. “But in my experience, the best fucks don’t happen when we’re trying to make them happen. They happen when we’re enjoying whatever we’re doing, just having fun. Still hungry?” he added. “I could eat more, yeah.” “Then by all means help yourself.” As they ate more pizza, still naked, Tam stroked her hair. “You are so lovely,” he said. She smiled, slightly wanly. “Don’t give me that look,” he said. “Either you’re upset because you didn’t ‘get sex right’ the very first time—which never happens, by the way—or you’re upset because you don’t feel lovely.” “Um. Not upset. Just… it’s weird, yeah? It’s all weird. It feels good but not great.” “Oh, yeah, there’s always that side of things, too. Having someone else touch us in the ways we’ve been touching ourselves feels better in some ways and worse in others. Better, because the nerves go nuts for skin to skin contact. But worse, because the other person isn’t doing what we do all the time to ourselves. It’s just unfamiliarity.” “Like the picture thing!” “Huh?” “We never like pictures of ourselves because they aren’t mirrored. We’re always used to seeing ourselves in a mirror. So the pictures never look quite right.” “Oh, yeah! Exactly!” “So how do we get over that?” “Well—how do you get familiar with anything? You do it a lot.” She grinned. “Sounds good to me. Now?” “You want to?” “Yes please.” “This time,” he said, “maybe it’ll go better if you’re the one on top. I’ve noticed sex is better for me when I’m the one doing the moving.” “Then you should be on top again. So it’s better for you.” “Oh, lover, it doesn’t have to be perfect for me, you’ll do just fine. Instead, just focus on making yourself feel good. Touch yourself. Don’t worry about me,” he added. “I’ll be along for the ride.” She finished her slice. “Hope you don’t mind pizza-breath kisses,” she said. “Not when they come from you.” They played with each other for a while, caressing, toying, teasing. Tam’s compact little body felt so good under her hands. She felt gawky, awkward, huge next to him. But he was obviously loving every minute of it. She could see it in his eyes. And even if she couldn’t, there was another part of him that was impossible to miss which showed pretty much the same thing. He surprised her when he went for a second condom. “Can’t we use the first one? You didn’t, um, ejaculate.” “Never use a condom twice,” he said, “unless you want to tear it.” “Which we really don’t.” “Nope.” She stroked his length to make sure he was entirely ready—and then asked outright, which seemed smarter. “I’m ready if you are,” he said. “I think so.” “Let me make extra-sure,” he said, and kissed her nipples while testing her wetness with his fingers. She moaned at the combination. “Yeah, you seem just fine!” he said, grinning, and lay back. She swung one of her long legs over him, trying not to feel like a giant. She positioned herself—slid down onto him— Tried to slide down onto him— “Just use your fingers,” he suggested. She blushed, and guided him in. That felt good, in a way that didn’t have much to do with him being in her. It felt powerful. Like choosing him. Obviously she’d chosen him already, but somehow it felt deliberate. In fact, being on top felt powerful, too. As long as she didn’t crush him. Somehow it felt like she’d reinforced the height difference… He’d been watching. “Better?” She’d been distracted by the emotions. She gave a tentative thrust. “Am I squishing you?” “Only in the absolute best way possible,” he said. “You feel great. How do I feel for you?” She adjusted the angle a little, leaning forward a bit, and—“Oh. Oh, yeah. That’s it right there.” She’d thought his grin couldn’t get any bigger, but obviously she’d been wrong. “I agree,” he said. “Only one thing I’d add—” and he steered her hand down to her own crotch. “One of the good parts of this position: ease of access.” With her hand in place, he let his own slide to her hips. She found she could rub her clit against her own hand as she thrust. Well, her outer clit; he was pressing on the inner parts. This was working. Working really well! She started thrusting more enthusiastically. He laughed. It was a delighted, generous laugh. “You look so happy,” he said—a little breathless between the humor and the fact that she was making his heart race. “Keep going, love, keep going!” And so she did. Every now and then she had to shift a little, or reach for a little more lube, but it was a good angle. A very good angle. “Oh, my fucking god…” “A really appropriate way of putting it,” he said. “But maybe—goddess? ‘Cause that’s what you seem like to me.” She laughed. She had to laugh. It felt so right. Just right. To be with the right man, to be trying things out until they found what clicked, no fumbling and blundering and feeling ashamed at mistakes. “I’m not afraid,” she gasped, surprised. “Not afraid.” He nodded. “I get it. Go on now. No reason to hold back. I’m right here.” “I know… Thank you…” She had to close her eyes. Had to go a little faster. Push a little harder. Tam, Tam, Tam, she thought—and then said it out loud, so he knew he was the only thing on her mind. “Yeah,” he whispered, understanding. He couldn’t reach her lips with his own, so he kissed what he could reach. Which was very effective. The twisting, writhing tension that had built up in her was screaming for release. And yet all it seemed to do was build. “Oh god, Tam… oh god…” “Go on. Go on and let go.” It was like a cord snapping—if that cord could set off fireworks. When she could see again, she realized she was gasping for breath, shaking—but supporting herself on her arms, so she wouldn’t fall on Tam beneath her. “Good?” he asked, grinning lazily, running his hands up her sides from her hips to her breasts and back again. She shook again at his touch. “Yeah,” she managed. “Yeah. Really good.” “I hoped this would work better for you than me on top,” he said. “And it looked like you got out of your head a bit more, too.” “Definitely,” she said, still shaking. Her arms were getting tired, and he noticed. “You don’t have to stay there,” he said. “Did you come?” “Oh yeah, somewhere along the line.” “I didn’t notice—” “You were a little busy at the time. All good. But we should probably clean up.” “I just wanna lie down next to you.” “Good idea. But go pee first. I’ve gotta clean up here anyway.” “I don’t really need to pee.” “Do it anyway. Anything you can squeeze out. You don’t want to get a UTI, and that’s the way to keep it from happening.” “I’m fine…” “One of my exes got a UTI. Running to the bathroom every half an hour? Not fun. Especially not if you’re going to be riding Greyhound at the time!” “All right. Does that mean I have to put my clothes on?” “Nobody else in the apartment. Your call.” “All right,” she said. The shaking was slowing, but she was still a little unsteady on her legs as she got to her feet. Despite Tam’s reassurance, she still poked her head out of the door first, before walking down the hall. In the bathroom, she stared at the filthy toilet again. Still not something she wanted to sit on. Besides, even though the condom had caught all of Tam’s cum, she still wanted to wash off a bit. The sink was freestanding, just a bowl on a pillar without a countertop around it. I’ll bet I can straddle that. It was much less pleasant than straddling Tam, but she could wash off and, yes, “squeeze out” a little pee. The sink didn’t feel entirely stable, though. As she got down and turned off the tap, she heard the front door of the apartment close. She was suddenly acutely conscious that she was stark naked. She poked her head out again, keeping the door closed as much as she could. “Tam?” “Oh, hey. You must be Bree.” She was facing a young man about Tam’s age, dark-haired and dark-faced. African-American? Asian? She couldn’t place his ethnicity. But that was nothing next to the fact that she was naked… He held out his hand. “DeMarcus Duong.” “Um—Bree.” She reached out and shook. She could still be polite, after all. “Sorry, I’m not, um—dressed.” “Yeah, I figured,” he said, with a look. Knowing and tolerant and admiring. Frankly admiring. She was reasonably sure that he couldn’t actually see much, but just knowing that she was bare-assed was clearly amusing him. Amusing and arousing? Tam came out of his room—he’s apparently dressed in a hurry, for he hadn’t noticed his shirt was inside out—with Bree’s clothes in hand. “Hey Marc,” he said, flushing. “Sorry, my fault, I told her we were alone.” “Not a problem,” DeMarcus said—so incredibly smoothly that Bree had no choice but to blush. “Are you hungry?” “We got pizza,” Tam said, passing the clothes to Bree. She mouthed her thanks to him and pulled her arm back into the bathroom, subtly nudging the door a bit further closed. Somehow she was too polite to simply close the door in DeMarcus’ face. Tam hadn’t grabbed any underwear at all, she noticed. Neither panties nor bra. Well, he had been hurrying. She pulled the shorts on and got the t-shirt over her head. My nips are gonna harden, I just know it—yup, there they go. Now she had to face Tam’s roommate with her breasts poking halfway through her shirt. And somehow she had a suspicion that he’d definitely notice. If she crossed her arms, though, it would just be even more obvious. Well, she couldn’t send Tam back for more clothing. She stepped out into the hall. DeMarcus was clearly not about to mention the fact that he’d come within minutes of walking in on them having rather loud sex, or that he’d caught Bree stark naked in his bathroom. The fact that he wasn’t mentioning it just made his silence on the subject obvious. The fact that his eyes had raked over every inch of Bree’s body—quite quickly and exactly once, but missing nothing at all—just made it plainer. Bree began to feel like her blush was permanent, and she felt intensely self-conscious. She wanted to run. But she held herself firm. I’m GGG, she told herself. I have sex. Just did, in fact. Nothing to be ashamed of. “Good trip?” DeMarcus inquired politely. She shrugged. “Greyhound is what it is.” “That’s for sure,” he said with a grin. “Well, welcome to the apartment. I’ll be in and out—oh, and Lisa’s staying over tomorrow, so it’ll be four of us.” “Lisa?” “My sweetie,” he said. “We could get food or something. But I’m sorry, I’m keeping you standing in the hallway. Didn’t mean to interrupt.” He really was smooth. “It’s all good, man,” Tam said reassuringly “Want any pizza? We have a couple slices left.” “Don’t mind if I do. But then I’ll get out of your way. You two have to make up for lost time, I imagine.” Smooth, and far too knowing. But with DeMarcus sent off with pizza in hand, Tam and Bree fell back onto the bed, and clothes came back off quickly. No sex, just cuddling. “Sorry about that,” Tam said. “That was awkward. And I wanted you to really experience afterglow, too.” “Hmm?” “The time right after sex can be downright magical. Sometimes better than the sex itself. But not when it gets interrupted in the middle like that.” “It’s all right,” Bree said—although she felt it would take a while before she felt entirely comfortable around DeMarcus. “We’ll have a lot more chances.” “That’s definitely true.”
  21. Hey y'all! I'm trying to finish their story quickly before my work starts getting busy again. Not much sex in this particular installment, but there will be a lot as this story goes on. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- “Not long now!” said Granny Zhao. “You will be full of happiness soon, yes!” I’m already getting a little full of something, Bree thought. But yeah. Full of happiness, too. Thirty hours on the road, mostly in cramped and crowded buses. Thirty hours. She’d be ecstatic about getting off the bus even if it weren’t Tam meeting her. But now that she was only an hour away, the excitement was fighting her tiredness. A few minutes before she’d gotten a text from Tam: On my way to the bus station She’d texted back at once: YAY —but then thought about it more. How long does it take to get to your place? It’s like a half-hour ride. I’m just going early because I don’t want to miss any connections. Least of all with you! Half an hour? So that meant an hour and a half to get to his place. Probably a bit more, since they’d have to wait a bit. And then more time at the house… two hours? I can do it. She was calculating times because she was feeling the beginnings of a need to pee, naturally. And the bus she was on did have a bathroom. But that would mean (a) wasting the pee and its delightful internal pressure on her clit, (b) using that dark, smelly, deeply unpleasant bus bathroom, and (c) asking Granny Zhao to stand up, twice. Granny Zhao had been with her for a good chunk of the way. Her English was a little shaky, but she was a sweetheart, and quite chatty. A vastly superior traveling companion than some of the denizens of the bus system. Talking to each other, Bree had quickly realized, meant that other passengers were less likely to bug either one of them. And they’d had plenty to talk about. But Granny was a little shaky on her feet, too. And prone to napping. Between the two, Bree had been reluctant to ask her to stand up while the bus was moving. So she’d felt a little need for the bathroom for the last hour. Two more hours to go? Well, she was good at holding. I got this. And besides, if it got too bad, she’d just pee at the bus station. She probably wouldn’t really need the pee to get her turned on, considering she’d be arm and arm with Tam from then on. So she just kept chatting with Granny Zhao, about so many things—Granny had left China decades ago and lived all over the country, and had a large family, and had worked in five or six different jobs, and all in all never ran out of material. Occasionally it took some time to find the right word, but that could be funny too. Granny’s chatter was so engrossing, Bree at first didn’t even notice that they’d slowed down. But soon it became obvious: they’d hit traffic. It was stop-and-go traffic, although with more “go” than “stop.” But with the timeline suddenly in doubt, Bree began to suspect she’d be using the bathroom at the bus station after all. The traffic slowed a bit more as they got closer. Bree kept Tam updated with steady complaints. But then at last they were off the highway and rumbling along city streets, and she knew it wouldn’t be long now. Her bladder was still a factor, but now it was mostly bumping up her desire levels. Which were already sky-high. I get to see Tam, I get to see Tam, I get to see Tam! I get to fuck Tam! For real! In, like, an hour! She was so horny, and so excited, that Granny Zhao had to say goodbye to her twice before it sank in that they were arriving. Granny cackled and patted Bree on the cheek and said, “Go see your handsome man!” “I will,” Bree said, heart lurching into overdrive at the thought. Under other circumstances, waiting for the aisle to clear to get off a bus while needing to pee could be downright agony. This time it was agonizing but just for the delay. It was a matter of literally seconds until she could see her lover, and people were going soooo slooooowly. Until they weren’t! Everyone ahead of her was either off or moving to the door, and all she had to do was follow, and then she was down the steps (a little jolting in her groin, but that was fine, just ramping up her passion more), and then she was actually in the bus station and there he was arms flung around each other sweeping him up off his feet to kiss him and kiss him only letting him down because her arms were aching “Oh my god, you’re here,” she breathed. “You’re here,” he countered. “I’ve been here all along. Especially since you’re a little late…” “It’s not my fault!” “Didn’t say it was, but it does mean we need to hurry. Got everything?” “Just the one bag…” “Then let’s go!” “Where are we going and why are we running?” she gasped, as he hurried her across the station. “We might catch the next train to my part of town. But it’s due right now.” So much for peeing here. Ah well, so much the better. They pelted through the station, dodging other travelers, down escalators, out into the open air, along a street (Bree growing slightly more desperate with every thudding step), into another building, around pillars, and then—skidding to a stop as Tam swore. “What?” “There it goes.” And indeed, a train was pulling away. “So now we wait? For how long?” “That one comes every hour and a half. So what we’re gonna do instead…” And, still holding her by the hand, he switched directions but kept on hurrying. So wait, do I get to pee here or not? “We’ll take the subway and then walk the rest of the way. It’ll take a little longer as the train would have, but not as long as waiting for the next direct,” Tam explained breathlessly. “Not as long is good,” Bree said. And they just caught the subway train he wanted, by sprinting the last few yards, and flung themselves down onto an open seat, gasping and giggling. Bree was relieved to sit down and take in her lover’s presence. All the running had been increasingly hard on her, jostling her filling bladder like mad. But now she could sit and gaze at him and let her arousal sweep over her, letting the fullness do its thing and press down hard on her clit. “You know what I just thought of?” Tam said. “No, what?” “What everyone at the bus station must have thought.” “Huh?” “You get off the bus… we make out like crazy… and then we sprint off.” She blushed beet red. “Oh.” “Totally fine, you know? PDA is almost expected at airports and bus stations.” “That’s true.” She set her GGG shoulders. “And sprinting off to, um, say hi properly is literally what we’re doing. So they thought right.” He grinned. “ ‘Say hi properly’? Is that what they’re calling it these days?” “That’s what I’m calling it on a subway train,” she said, resolutely. “Fair enough.” “Besides, they probably know perfectly well about making connection trains.” “True.” “And it’s either that or we were running for the bathroom,” she added. “Sorry, I didn’t even think to ask!” “It’s fine,” she said, nonchalantly. “Better than fine, actually…” “That so?” he asked, quirking an eyebrow upward. “So.” But then she added, “How long is this train ride?” “Fifteen minutes or so.” “Oh, that’s not bad at all. And then how long of a walk after?” “Um… not sure, actually. It’s been a while since I walked from this line.” Except, of course, that it wasn’t just fifteen minutes on the subway. A few stops further along, their train ground to a halt. Nothing wrong with their train; the conductor announced that the train ahead of them had a medical emergency on board. It only added a few minutes to their trip after all, but Bree was falling prey to a common human experience: trips feel longer when you haven’t been to a place before. And Bree was feeling every delay in exactly one place in her body. It was a complicated place, though. She was getting really desperate to pee; but she was also ecstatic to have Tam beside her. Pressure in bladder; pressure on clit. Uncertainty about how long she’d have to keep holding; certainty that her man was beside her, here, with her, touching her, holding her hand. (They weren’t making out constantly, but oh god, did she ever wish they could be.) She crossed her legs, subtly rubbing them together. It was a good compromise move for both her desires. Finally, finally, they hit the last station on the subway line and took the escalator up to street level. “Huh!” Tam said, as they surfaced. “That’s a bus route I use sometimes, it goes right by my house. I wonder if one’s coming soon?” Yes please, yes please, yes please… He inspected the schedule posted on the bus stop sign. “It’s every half an hour. About another fifteen minutes’ wait.” He looked at her. “Wait, or walk?” Ooof. Tough call. My god, I gotta pee. Getting my hopes up and smashing them again, over and over! But I gotta hold it. I am so turned on right now… I can’t stand waiting. “Walk.” He held out a hand. “Let’s go.” A few minutes later, she was nearly convinced she’d made a terrible mistake. Not only was every step now sloshing her bladder—not just running, but ordinary walking was hard now—Tam clearly felt a little unsure of the way he needed to go. Which she could understand! Boston streets seemed to run at all different angles, and also seemed to change names. Tam felt sure they were headed in the right direction, but he kept making comments like, “Hmm, this feels very familiar,” and “Well, it probably doesn’t matter,” and “We just need to find the main road,” which didn’t fill her heart with glee or certainty. And with every step, the pressure grew. Finally he stopped and looked around. “We’ve got to be close,” he said. “Tam?” Bree said. “Hmm?” “Lover, I really, really need to pee. Like, I can’t wait much longer.” “We’re almost there.” “It’s starting to get real bad, hon.” He drew in a deep breath. “And we don’t want you to start this week off by wetting your pants.” “Really not. Especially since these are the only pants I brought.” “Understood.” He pointed in the direction they’d been walking. “We just gotta keep going. Either we’ll hit the main drag, or…” Or I’ll wet my pants right before my first chance to really have sex with my boyfriend. No. Not gonna happen. Gotta hold it. How much longer can it be? Suddenly he laughed. “What?” “Up ahead? That’s the station where we should have gotten off, if we’d caught that first train. I know where we are now!” “Did we come too far?” Bree said, thinking, I am not gonna strangle my boyfriend, I am not gonna strangle my boyfriend—not in public, anyway… “Very slightly. We’ll just turn here and my house is two blocks away.” “Oh thank god.” He squeezed her hand. “Everything’s gonna be all right,” he promised. “I know. But can we hurry?” They hurried. One long block down a tree-lined street—one long block down a busy main road—two blocks’ worth of walking where every step was getting painful—two blocks’ worth of Is this his house? No, guess not. Please let it be the next one… “Here we are!” A three-story building, three mailboxes by the front door. (“I’ll get the mail later,” he said to himself.) Three apartments? Probably. Waiting for Tam to fish out the key—squirming all the while. So close, so close… “We’re second floor,” Tam said apologetically. “Just one flight of steps? Not too bad.” “Yeah, but we get sound from above and below.” “Oh.” Bree understood all about sound leaking in a house. But somehow it was different when it was strangers, not family. Somehow it was different when the sounds in question might be sex… Up the stairs. Another short wait as Tam got the door to his apartment unlocked (“Sorry, the key sticks sometimes. You just gotta know the trick”). And then finally— “Good,” he said. “My roommate's not home. We’ve got the place to ourselves for a while.” Oh, right. The roommate… “Kitchen on the left, obviously. Bathroom is right around the corner, here. And my room’s at the end of the hall.” He took both of her hands in his. He looked… shy? “Where to first?” Dear holy god, more decisions? He’s trying to be nice. Making me feel at home. So I gotta decide. Do I have time to have sex before I wet my pants? I can barely think… “Your room.” He grinned. “Follow me.” The door clicked shut behind them. She glanced around his room but could barely take it in: posters on the walls, two windows with the blinds down, that was all she could make out, especially since the blinds weren’t letting in much light. She picked him up and swung him around to the bed, so they could make out at the same height. His arms wrapped around her, and his hands slid under her shirt. She didn’t need any more encouragement than that; she immediately pulled it off. Their hands were everywhere, his shirt was coming off too, they crashed down on the bed together, kissing every moment… Holy shit, is he sexy. Holy shit do I gotta go. Can’t hold it… I should— no time She had to grab, had to cross her legs over her hand, and—worst of all—she had to break the kiss. “Tam?” “Yeah?” “I am so so so so sorry, but I am about to explode…” “I thought you might need to go.” “On beyond needing to go. I can’t wait.” “Silly. That’s why I showed you where the bathroom is first thing. That’s why I asked.” “But we’re supposed to have sex first thing. That’s what long distance couples do.” “Hey, hey, hey. No pressure. We’ve got days and days.” “No pressure except in my bladder.” “And no pressure for you to hold it. Whatever you want.” “I wanna have sex with you, I just gotta pee first.” “And there’s nothing wrong with that.” “Good. ‘Cause I think I’m leaking…” “Go, go!” She went. Didn’t stop to put her shirt back on, either. Just bolted. Flung his door open, dashed, flung the bathroom door closed. Fumbled for the light. Flung the door back open so she could find the lightswitch. (Legs double-crossed by now. Bent over. Seconds left.) Door closed again. Turn to the toilet, unzipping as she did… Oh my GOD that is filthy That is seriously the grossest toilet I’ve ever seen Do they even know what soap is The first spurt hit her panties. She flung her shorts down, her mind still racing: I don’t even want my butt to touch that… Pee in the shower? No, eww, it’s pretty disgusting too—OH SHIT Big spurt this time. Two big spurts. No time left. Fling up the seat, whirl around, drop the panties, hover over the toilet, then pee— —Is what she meant to do. She flung the seat up, all right. It bounced back and caught her on the butt as she was whirling around. The panties didn’t drop in time, not completely. And the hovering was interrupted by the toilet lid’s unexpected rebound. She was only half-crouched. But the pee came pouring out just the same. After ten seconds she managed to squeeze it off. Well, squeeze it down to a trickle. She inspected the damage. She’d almost gotten the panties down enough; only the elastic waistband was in the way. But since that was enough, the rest of the cotton cloth was soaked through. It was hard to peel them down the rest of the way, especially while she was still going. She lowered herself a bit more, leaning on the sink with one arm, and let the rest out. Oh god. Oh god. Oh my god. I haven’t been in his apartment two minutes and I peed my panties. What am I gonna do? She inspected the damage a bit more. Miraculously her shorts (down around her ankles) had been largely spared. Just a small damp spot where the soaked panties had dropped on top of them. Okay. Calm down. Gonna be okay. She straightened up. Wiped off with a lot of toilet paper. Got her panties off and rinsed them in the sink (huh, maybe I should have pissed in here). Pulled her shorts up (some people go commando on purpose, right?). And then, soaked-but-cleaner panties bunched in her hand and wearing nothing but shorts and a bra, she peeked out of the bathroom—coast was clear—hurried to Tam’s room— And burst into tears as soon as the door closed behind her. He was hugging her in a second. “What’s wrong?” “I waited too long,” she whimpered. “I peed my panties.” “Oh, lover, it’s okay. Happens to all of us.” “Tam, I’m supposed to be making hot passionate love to you, not peeing myself!” He silenced her with a kiss. “You’re not supposed to do anything. No expectations, remember?” “But—” “But nothing.” He kissed her again. “I love you, Bree. And you are achingly beautiful no matter what happens. And we will have sex when you are darn good and ready and not a moment before.” She sagged into his arms, relief pouring through her. More relieving than the pee, frankly. “And from now on, you pee when you want to pee and not a moment later,” he added. The repetition made her crack a sheepish grin. “And, well, TBH, I’ve been wearing those panties since Madison. They were pretty dirty anyway.” “There you go, then. We’ll probably end up doing a lot of laundry anyway, no problem to throw your clothes in the load.” He kissed her—longer, this time—and then asked, “So what do you want to do now?” The relief—multiple reliefs—was still surging through her, but ebbing away. And it was taking her energy level with it. After all, it was pretty warm in his room, and she’d slept quite poorly since Madison, in Grayhound bus seats. “Um, this is gonna sound a bit weird, but I’m really tired; can I just take a nap?” “That doesn’t sound weird at all.” “Can you take a nap with me?” “Sounds perfect to me.” “With our clothes off?” “I stand corrected. That’s perfect.” Stripped down, they fell into Tam’s bed; Tam was big spoon. It was delightful feeling his arms around her, his bare body up against her… so easy to just rest… She drifted off quickly. ------------------------------------- Plenty more to come! Hope you enjoyed.
  22. You're really milking this one, aren't you? Stringing us along? And we love it!
  23. So I hate asking for help, but I used to find this particular vid on PornHub and it's gone now. The title was "Sunshine and Adora have a pissing contest" and it was two girls, one brunette one blond. 45 minute holding contest in Vegas as they talk about times they've had to pee in the past. Ends up with them both peeing in a bathtub, side by side. I was never actually sure which was Sunshine and which was Adora. But the blonde had the most amazing stories. And I know some people felt the ending was too abrupt, but I loved the sound of them sighing with relief at the end. There was a short version that circulated on here a while back focused on just the blonde, but I can't find it. And "cute blonde" doesn't do much as a search term, can't think why. If anyone has either version saved and is willing to pass it along, I would be so grateful! (If it's on the Do-Not-Post list for some reason, no worries, I understand. All good things must come to an end...)
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