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  1. I didn't find a good topic for this so I decided to make one. Feel free to tell me if one exists already! So, I'd like you to tell and discuss here about these questions: Does your partner know that you like omorashi? Would you like them to know? Have there been any events when they say something related to omorashi (without realising you are into it)? Because I just have to tell you about this now. (Sorry if this is too hard to understand, I'm a bit tired.) My boyfriend doesn't know that I like omorashi. I'm not really planning to tell him about it, because I'm quite happy with doing this on my own and wetting myself alone. Of course it'd be nice if he knew so I could be desperate and wet myself in front of him but oh well. It's not too big thing for me so I don't feel so big urge to tell about it. The only clue I've got from him about the whole thing is when I said him something like "Okay, I really need to go pee or this bed is going to be wet" and he a bit sarcastically, though not in a mean way said "ha ha, charming". So (at least for now) it seems that he isn't really into it. So a couple of days ago I jokingly asked him "Could I please go to the toilet?" to what his answer was "Yeah well okay, but you have one time left after that today, use it wisely". Clearly it was a joke, but oh you can just imagine if he would've known my thoughts after it! :D Which were of course like "oh god I wish you really would deny that permission from me". Whoa, it would be great. But now I just remember the words and feel a bit amused because he had no idea. And well, maybe a bit aroused.
  2. The Autobiography of a Fetish. This is an extremely lengthy and updated personal history of my own sexuality and fetishes and has been written simply to help me to understand myself a little better. Through the act of putting things down on paper (metaphorically speaking!) and the thought that is required to do that I hope to shed some light on my own inner workings. Let me state right from the beginning that I enjoy my fetishes, and have no desire to spoil the enjoyment I derive from thinking, fantasising, and actually practising. There are times when I would like to know where some of the strange and wonderful kinks derive from. However, if knowing spoilt the fun, I would have lost something, and that would be a real shame. I intend to study and record my sexual history as far as I can, and see if any if I have any new insights from what I find in myself, and my history. Some of what I write predates my actual sexual awakening, at or around the time of puberty. I guess that my fetishes always gave me a sexual thrill, even prior to puberty, although I was innocent of any knowledge of sex, and so did not understand it for what it truly was. I will try and put my things in the best chronological order I can remember, I will add notes about how I felt, and the reactions I perceived I generated in others as we go. Deliberate wetting. I suspect that the first appearance of anything that could be considered a fetish was watersports. I have no idea what triggered it, but having been successfully potty trained ( and I can remember a specific event in my potty training history, when I was sat on my potty, whilst Mum sat on the toilet! No specific details, I can just picture the scene in my mind’s eye) I seemed to be dawn to the act of deliberately wetting myself. I don’t think I can remember the first time I did this, but there were periods in my very young childhood, when I would do this quite frequently. I can only have been three or four at the time, and I took a pair of my swimming trunks from the drawers in my room, where they were stored, and took them to the downstairs toilet. I put on the trunks and sat on the toilet and quite deliberately wet myself. I seem to remember the act caused me to have an erection even as I was pulling up the trunks. I knew I enjoyed the act, and I had no idea why my penis grew stiff and big as it did. This deliberate act was quite often carried out on a weekend, when the parents quite often had a bit of a lie in. I would not do it very often, sometimes weeks and months would go by before I would repeat the act. In between times I might forget about it all together. But here’s the thing. having wet my swimming trunks, I simply used to hide them. And they stank. I am ashamed to say that I never thought of just rinsing them out, letting them dry, and returning them to their rightful place. I would hide them guiltily, and find them out for my next wetting adventure, re-wetting in smelly stained trunks. And of course, every once in a while my parents would have a tidy out, driven my either simple tidiness or a need to trace a bit of a whiff! And yes, my guilty swimming trunks would be unearthed, and I was in for hell. It would always start off with the evidence and the accusation. I could not speak. I knew I was in the deepest trouble I had ever been in, and that I was in for a hiding. There was no way I could justify my actions, I was so deeply embarrassed and ashamed of my actions, and simply wanted the ground to swallow me up. I died a thousand deaths. Eventually the questioning came to an end. I could not even admit my guilt, I just wanted the whole thing to end, even the smacking I ( rightly) received was welcome as an end to the torture of the inquisition. The problem was that I just did not learn. I carried on my old ways, and the ritual of the discovery, the inquisition and severe punishment continued in a cycle, about every two to three years till after puberty. I guess it stopped when I thought of rinsing out the offending swimming trunks, and restoring them to their correct storage place. But why oh why did I not come up with that obvious solution many many years previously. In much later life, I wonder if things could have been different. Yes, I could have covered my tracks a whole lot better, and I really should have learned to do that way sooner than I did. But what I was doing was the beginnings of a sexual fetish that I feel has always been “hard-wired” within me. I could not have explained this to my parents if my life had depended on it. (at over 40 I would struggle today!!) but I often wonder if I had been able to put this idea across whether things would have made any sense to them, and things would have been different. Wet clothing On hot summer days my sister and I would be allowed to dress in our respective swimming costumes and play in the garden. Sometimes water would be involved, sometimes not. We would often end up in the bath after tea, and I would always want to be able to wear my swimming trunks into the bath. However I was always inhibited from asking this out loud, especially if we had “dried off” in the intervening time. I was always under the impression that my parents would not want to go through the hassle of having to get the swimming stuff dry again. So I would get my sister to ask if we could wear our costumes into the bath. A few times we did! From an early age I spent a lot of time at the swimming baths. My Dad took me regularly, and I enjoyed splashing about. My dad was always a good and confident swimmer, having spent his life till then regularly swimming. Mum had a phobia of water, having nearly drowned as a young girl. She knew her fear was out of control, and had taken a conscious decision to have my sister and I taught how to swim from an early age. Her thinking was that we would avoid her early fear of water, and if we ever came close to an incident the like of which she had suffered years earlier, we would be safe from drowning because of the skills we would have, and she had lacked. On one or two of the visits we made to our local swimming pool a group of teenagers came in to the pool area fully clothed. I was suddenly interested! My young mind had no knowledge of why they were there, or why they were wearing their clothes. (in later life I did some survival swimming at school, and thus found out what they were actually doing!) I imagined that they were on some sort of school trip (at least I knew about these things) and that they had changed into old clothes in case they accidentally fell into the pool, thus avoiding damage to their own clothes!) I tried to hang around to see them enter the pool, but never actually witnessed it happen, and this only served to confuse me more. Maybe they did not actually intend to swim. All of this had triggered an erection. I was ashamed of my growing penis, and had no idea what it was all about, why it got hard like that or why I seemed to like the feeling! All I knew was that I wanted to get my clothes wet! From previous incidents, I had a feeling I knew what my mother would say if I suddenly presented her with a suit of wet clothes. I knew I would be for the high jump, and would probably suffer the consequences. Don’t get me wrong. I don’t think for a minute that my parents were in any way brutal, but my recollections are that they were very strict and this sort of behaviour would not be tolerated. I therefore spent hours trying to plan a way that I could get wet whilst still fully clothed, and avoid any trouble. My thinking went along the lines of, it would have to be an unavoidable accident, or an act of heroism. Unfortunately, I was never lucky enough to encounter either sort of opportunity and so for many years I planned and hoped and dreamed in vain. There was one memorable occasion, when I could have carried out my fantasy, and with full parental permission. And to this day, I have to say, I did not see the potential, and did not take advantage of it. It was bath night, after breaking for a holiday up from infant school. Dad gave me a piggyback lift into the bathroom, and turned his back to deposit me, still in my school uniform, into the bath. He was joking about and did not really force me into the water, however I struggled against him, and he only relented when I had to put a be-socked foot into the water to prevent falling in completely. Why did I fight him off? Why did I not just flop into the warm welcoming water, and enjoy the feeling of my wet clothes? I will never have a satisfactory answer to that. Another question you could ask is, was I being tested? From subtle reactions over the years, I have often wondered if my Dad was a bit of a wet clothes fetishist. I guess I will never know. I guess talking of sex, fantasies, and fetishes is not a conversation that I could ever imagine having with my father!!! Was he trying me out, had he seen some reactions in me, and was testing the waters ( ha ha!) Or am I reading far more into a piece of fun, than was actually there? In junior school at the age of maybe 10 or so, as one of the competent swimmers I was trained for, and tested on “survival swimming”. This entailed wearing some light clothes, initially just a pair of pyjamas, over a standard swimming costume, and swimming a reasonable distance. At long last I was able to (legally) get some clothes wet in a swimming pool! I was so excited about this, and I can remember talking to my school chums about it, but I couldn’t bring myself to tell them why. When I got to the kernel of the whole thing, I would become embarrassed, and fight shy of telling the actual truth. I enjoyed the swimming lessons, and did very well it, progressing to the gold standard, which I passed ( just) I wore the badges with pride on a pair of trunks. However, I always wanted to go one step further and pee myself, prior to getting in the pool. However, we wore our swimsuits to the poolside, and then dressed in our clothes to train for the survival test, so I was never able to manufacture a scenario when I could pee in dry clothes and the get into the pool undetected. So I never managed it. Just a foot note here to tie things together. We went camping one weekend, and were going to go off swimming. Mum presented me with one of my pairs of swimming trunks, to go swimming with, but I was intent on using the trunks with my badges on. I had taken them camping with us, quite independently of the main packing that Mum had done. I went to get them out, and was challenged by Dad, asking my if I had “messed in them!” meaning wet them ( I had not ever dabbled in anything more than that!) The trunks were clean, and I took delight in showing him that his suspicions were unfounded. My poor parents must have wondered what the hell was going on with me, wanting to urinate in my swimming trunks, when they had spent so much effort teaching potty training! As I progressed to senior school, I have to comment that was still very innocent of anything sexual. I had not discovered masturbation, and I still had no idea of sex in any way shape or form. I was probably 12 heading towards 13 when I was told about masturbation, by a friend, who was a year younger than me. Suddenly my swimming trunk wetting sessions took on a whole new meaning! Although if memory serves I had yet to discover the safety that rinsing the evidence away would have afforded, I think at this stage there was one final parental conformation left before I discovered the bleeding obvious solution. On this occasion, I was able to mumble that I was guilty of the charges that were being laid against me, but I could say no more, even when questioned (at some length) as to the reasons behind my indefensible actions. On this final occasion, I avoided a damn good hiding, I was of an age where this was no longer the final course of punishment. At this stage I had also progressed very well in survival swimming and was practising for the "honours" award, which involved swimming in what was effectively a full suit of clothes. I practised and practised, but was never quite good enough. One of the teachers suggested that there was a little wrinkle I could use to improve my time. The rules stated that either trousers or a skirt should be worn, but did not state that a skirt could only be worn by female entrants. I never did have the bottle to attempt the swim in a skirt. I was more concerned about the ribbing I would take amongst my school chums about wearing the skirt, than actually achieving the award. All the time I was plotting how I could wet myself prior to entering the pool, but as before the presence of school chums, and teachers precluded a pre swimming wetting session. The best I could manage one day was to leave the pool, in my wet clothes, visit the toilet, and sit and pee in my already wet trousers. I then went to the shower to rinse my clothes of my pee, before changing to go home. Masturbation and fantasising drove a lot of things for many years. The basic premise has never changed, though the details differ from day to day to keep the fantasy fresh. The basic premise has always been that of a partially or completely clothed woman deliberately wetting herself, before getting completely drenched, and having delightful sex, with me. There is never any coercion in my fantasies. The woman of my dreams enjoys the kinks for her own sexual needs, and is only too happy to partake in the act for her own excitement, as well as mine! I suppose the whole fantasy stemmed from one of two precepts, A) The woman had not tried clothed wetness before, and found she really liked it when she tried it, or B) the woman had a secret fetish that she was deeply ashamed of, and it all came out with me that she enjoyed such things, and we enjoyed or mutual fetish to the full. Some when around this time, I started to imagine that my female co-conspirator would be attired in a one piece swimsuit, and the third and final part of my fetish trilogy became set in concrete. Pornography During an after school activity a school friend introduced me to pornography. He had a magazine, and for some reason, was keen to show it to me. This was probably the first time I had seen the naked female form in all its graphic fullness. Yes, of course I had witnessed my mother and my sister with no clothes on, but they were not actively displaying their genitals, and giving me the “come on” eyes! Initially I found the images exciting, however, this quickly paled. I have seldom found any “traditional” porn that excites or satisfies. As time went on, I stumbled across the odd “wetlook” article, or letter in a magazine. The location of this rare commodity made all the searching worthwhile, but I had to do a lot of searching for the odd nugget! It was many years before I found a knicker wetting article, and when I did I practically came in my pants! One of the biggest relief’s was thinking that I am not alone! The dreadfully embarrassing stand-offs with my parents had taught me that pant wetting was generally not socially acceptable. In fact I felt very guilty about my awful dreadful disgusting indefensible desires. I felt so alone in the world, and would never have dared whisper my deepest secrets to anybody. How could I have discussed this sexual deviation with someone I loved. I longed to find a partner to share my fantasies, a water nymph, if you will. But I lacked the confidence to actually approach a girl, and make the initial contact. I was always frightened off by the idea of frightening her off! My “lack of success with the ladies" dogged me well into adult life. That and an inferiority complex approximately the size of Wales that was probably partly due to my fetishes and my expectations to the reactions they would invoke. I did have a brief sexual relationship at the age of about 24. Yes, I popped my cherry, but it was never a really satisfying relationship, and never once did we even mention likes, dislikes or fetishes in any way. The lady wet her pants hundreds of times, wore swimsuits times without number, bathed swam and showered fully clothed countless times for me. But only ever in my mind and never in reality. In truth we never even bathed together naked. Our relationship and the circumstances never allowed for it. WAM Sometime around this time my searching through “normal” pornographic magazines disclosed an industry that specialised in special interest material some of which interested me. The WAM (Wet and Messy) genre had people out there supplying material for the likes of me. At around the same time Splosh magazine started up with the intention of making money in this previously un-exploited area. I lapped up the material like a drowning man grabbing at a life-belt! However, as time went on, the content, like normal pornography, after the initial rush, paled. I was often left thinking, “yes, very nice, but if only…… she had done this, worn that…. I soon discovered quite a compartmentalisation of kinks, and quite a sniffy attitude by officianardos of each one. There was the WAM brigade, who would not countenance either swimsuits or anything associated with peeing and quite often will not brook anything like nudity! The knicker wetting brigade also hate swimsuits, and seldom carry on a wetting session into full immersion. Both genres seem to give their work the air of childish innocent fun by completely failing to give any hint of sexual overtone to the whole proceedings. The WAM brigade seem to think that you have to be properly and fully clothed in street clothes, to be proper WAM, the people who like to swim in their clothes seem to have a fanatic hatred of swimsuits, and seem to want to have them banned from the face of the earth, as they are not proper clothes, and only proper clothes will do to swim in! They also seem to be quite disgusted by urine. Quite an odd position to take when you think of some of the substances and chemicals they subject their clothes and genitalia to. (Fresh urine (at source) is usually sterile and has been used for generations by some peoples as a sterilisation agent, when necessary) Maybe I can see a little bit of a point though. There is a contingent of the knicker wetting faction who are in to “panty pooping” as well. This does not do it for me. In fact I would say that generally find the idea of defecating in my clothes quite disgusting. I guess we all draw the line somewhere! The funny thing is that it seems it’s the producers of the material that make these strong distinctions. I read a number of forums on the internet and have noticed that although the official line of the particular forum may be wetlook only with no wetting, a sizeable number of the posters either allude to the “banned” activities on the Forum, or post on other forums where they can openly discuss their “illicit” activities. Once in a while you find a producer who will do some “crossover material” A knicker wetting scene becomes a wetlook (WAM) scene, or a messy (mud or food) scene goes on to become a wetlook scene as the model is shown, still dressed in their clothes, showering to clean up from the session. Very few producers actually give a sexual element to the wet ( or messy) work they are portraying. Maybe they are trying to get their work out “under the censors” However, think this is a waste of time and opportunity. The work is always sold and classed as pornography. Why not be adult and up front about the whole thing. Buyng my own Flat I was still living at home, which greatly hampered any wet activity of almost any sort. The relationship (I have mentioned above) sort of spurred me on to buying my first flat. My parents were quite strict about such things, and would not have sanctioned any sexual activity of any sort, on their premises. My first flat was to be a love nest of sorts. Unfortunately the relationship broke down, and we broke up before the purchase of the flat was completed. What little sex we had enjoyed had been limited by our lack of our own space and time, and, to be blunt, the single fact that my “girlfriend” had used the relationship simply for her own needs. She had wanted some warm company, rather than a loving relationship. Yep, I had been used! Many years later as the saying goes, I’m not bitter! I was very bitter about the relationship, but she really did me a favour as far as the property market goes! She also did me a great favour as far as having my own flat was concerned. I had dreamed of this time for years. The opportunity to bath fully clothed whenever I wanted, to pee in my pants at will, and generally to enjoy the lack of limitations that had been imposed on me by having to hide my desires away from the parental family. If memory serves, the expected and anticipated explosion of wet activity simply did not occur to the extent you might have thought it would. Yes I did bath and shower fully clothed, and I did use the toilet without the traditional removal of all my clothing, but maybe not as much as I could potentially have done. One of the reasons was that I seemed to be hamstrung by my own paranoia. My wet sessions were always carried out within the privacy and security of my own flat ( later my own house) but quite often the thought would occur to me, whilst I was in the shower that the outer wall would collapse, leaving me in full view to the waiting masses outside, and the embarrassing secret of my fetish would become common knowledge to the world at large. Swimsuits It was probably also about this time that I bought my first ladies one piece swimsuit. I had fantasised for years about all aspects of wet sex with a woman who was wearing a swimsuit, and was eager to try it out for real. I also thought it would be very exciting thing to try on for myself. I’m not sure I can remember the circumstances of buying my first swimsuit. I had to deal with the embarrassment and paranoia of the “man buying in the lingerie department” feelings, and would always choose strange towns where there would be no chances of being recognised. After all the whole world, and their dog, knew that I was a solitary wanker unable to get a girlfriend!!! so I had to be a pervert, why else would I want a ladies swimsuit. I hunted through charity shops and the like, but would be scared off by the battle-axe behind the counter! I think my first swimsuit might have been bought on a booze cruise to France. The lack of language, and the false bravado of being well away from my own country allowed me to finally make the purchase I wanted to. The first few wet sessions were wonderful. I enjoyed every aspect of wetting showering and masturbating in the swimsuit, but with the added bonus of the thrill of wearing something that society would not generally expect me to wear. I feel I need to add another margin note here. Up to this time I had often masturbated in the clothes I was wearing at the time, and that was not without its problems. Generally speaking the waist band of my pants or swimming trunks would be just in the wrong place to be able to manipulate me penis in the way that I would generally masturbate. The ladies swimsuit was almost always a sensually fitting garment, with a continuous front panel. I am able to grasp the head of my penis through the lycra based material and enjoy a pleasurable wank without the limitations imposed by the waist band of my pants!. The internet Next came the internet. At this time I was subscribing to a couple of British based magazines. Splosh and another magazine called Cascade. (Cascade was a cottage industry fetish magazine produced by a couple from their own home, with the aid of a photocopier. It dealt with all aspects of “watersports”. During the time I subscribed to them they were raided by the police, and prosecuted under our prurient and ancient obscene publications act. What a complete waste of public money and effort! What harm were they causing?) The magazines made mention of some sites on a new technology platform called the internet. Well I had a computer, without a modem at the time, and thought I might like to have a look at some of this. The reason I did not was simple. I had some friends, who were quite clever with computers, and I feared that they would be able to go on line at the same time as me, and “hack” into my computer, to see what I was looking at. To this day there are only a couple of friends who have any idea about my fetishes, and there are only two other people (my partners) (more later) who have any idea of the whole picture. Eventually I was persuaded that there was no way that another person could hack into my computer, via the internet, and my life on the internet began. (Possibly no longer quite accurate, but I no longer care!) I have to comment that the internet has not changed my life, other than giving me access to a greater range of material and allowing me to see that I am not alone in my fetishes. There are people out there who are as weird as me, if not a damn site weirder! Maybe I am being a bit untruthful here. I do spend a lot of time on the internet, and visit my favourite fetish sites on a (at least) daily basis. I probably spend an average of up to an hour a day surfing these sites. I make it a rule not to spend money subscribing to any pay sites, though if I find a specific item on a pay-site, I have been known to take a short term subscription to be able to download a particular photo-set. (Usually swimsuit wetting), I see that as being no different to buying a photoset via the post. Sleeping and Dreams I need to say, right from the start, that I do not seem to have positive sexual dreams. That is to say, I have never had a "wet dream" about getting wet. I have had many dreams about my sexual fetishes, but they tend to be of the "paranoid" variety. There are a couple of themes that come up quite often. The first is a variation of the walking down the street stark naked which has me in some "social" situation where I suddenly find myself wearing nothing but a woman’s one piece swim suit. I start by doing the "act normally" thing and if I pretend I am not wearing what I am wearing everyone will ignore me, but I soon become embarrassed and have to run away. The second theme goes like this. I find a shower or something similar, and decide that it would be a good place to enjoy a swimsuit shower. I put on a ladies swimsuit, and start to shower. Part way through my shower I realise that the shower has a window, or is somehow overlooked, and I end up trying to hide my "lack of" nakedness, thinking I would prefer to be naked rather than being seen in a swimsuit! I usually sleep quite well, it is a rare night if I disturb. I have tried on several occasions to sleep for the night in a swimsuit, however I rarely succeed. I don't sleep as deeply and disturb a lot easier. It does seem to trigger a dream about a swimsuit, but it is always one of the "negative" paranoid dreams. The Partner. You might notice the non name specific terms used throughout this essay. This is done on purpose to allow myself full and frank expression, and will probably become apparent within this section. After many single years as a dyed in the wool "Billy no girlfriends wanker" I hooked up with a wonderful woman. We delayed diving into a physical relationship for, for what seemed like a long time at the time, but in reality was not actually that long. We went away for a weekend, and enjoyed quite a lot of wonderful "vanilla" sex. This was only the second woman I had ever slept with and from the word go the whole experience was by far and away orders of magnitude better than anything I had experienced before. Towards the end of the weekend my lady asked me if there was anything specific that she could do for me. I felt emboldened by the complete openness we had shared over the weekend. I thought at that stage I ought to come out with everything. I had to tell her all about me, because our new relationship required the complete truth. If this was going to be a relationship breaker, probably better to get it over with before we had invested too much of our emotions. I decided "in for a penny..." So I stared at the least contentions point. I had a swimsuit thing going. I like women in swimsuits, and hoped to have sex with her wearing a swimsuit. I also let on about my collection of ladies swimming costumes, and how I used them for my own pleasure. This could actually have been a problem as we had already been swimming together, and I had probably enjoyed the experience more than I would have done under "normal" circumstances! I also went on to say that I thought a one piece swimsuit was the sexiest garment a woman could wear and that if she wanted to wear anything to excite me then, rather than sexy underwear, a swimsuit would do it for me every time. No screams of horror or disgust yet! Next one then. I then went on to say that I liked the thought of a woman getting wet whilst still fully clothed, specifically for the sexual thrill of doing so. Again, no cries of shock as yet. I was thinking of holding out on the final show stopper, but thought it was better to get it over with, so hesitantly I went on, realising that this was where the disgust would be expressed, if it was going to be forthcoming. And before actually getting wet, I would like a woman to deliberately wee in her clothes. Silence. I went on to try and describe the difference between accidentally wetting your pants, and the deliberate wilful act of gratuitous sexual wetting. More silence. My heart was in my mouth. Had I just gone a bridge to far, and ruined the whole deal. I was about to add that if she was completely disgusted I would drop the subject and never mention it again when my partner spoke up. Her first comment was to say that some of my “kinks” has surprised her a bit as she had not ever considered such things as being sexual, she did however go on to ask me if my ultimate dream would be to have her pee in a bathing suit. She had hit the nail on the head and I had to admit that it was the zenith of my hopes and dreams. My partner apologised for not having bought a swimsuit away with us, and suggested that we could buy one in the town where we were staying. However we had to check out of the hotel, and make our way home, so we decided to wait until we were on home territory before we embarked on our new wet adventures. We returned to my home, and more or less went straight to bed. After a while my girlfriend asked me if I had a swimsuit she could borrow as she had been saving up her pee and was ready to try and make a dream come true. I produced a swimsuit for her, as well as one for myself and we went into the bathroom. Toilet training is a hard thing to break after over forty years and it took quite a while before my girlfriend managed to dampen her gusset a little. Following this I was keen to get her into the shower before she got cold and disgusted and we showered in our swimsuits and made love. For about two years we had a very full and very wet sex life, although it was to be a little longer before we set up home together. During that time we explored our new found sexual freedom to the full. Although we did enjoy an awful lot of wet sex we also partook of a lot of standard “vanilla” sex as well. Many’s the time she would arrive at my house after work, dressed and ready for an evening’s wet entertainment! She would be wearing clothes that would not be harmed by a good dousing, as well as a swimsuit instead of the more usual bra and panties. More often than not she would also have a very full bladder, which needed urgent relief. Sometimes so urgent that we only had time to get her into the shower, but not enough time to divest herself of her clothing in the more traditional way, before she let go and soaked herself. This was of course followed by a shower, and lovemaking with both of us still fully clothed as far as we were able to be! On more than one occasion I had to dry and redress before I could go out to her car to bring in her weekend bag so that she could redress in dry clothing. I also bought a hot tub and set it up so that we could enjoy frequent clothed wet sessions! Having a female presence in the house did mean that I could be more open about my collection of swimsuits. I was also able to purchase them more openly. In addition to this we would go shopping together and if we found a suitable swimsuit we would buy it for her!! (nudge nudge wink wink!!!) I had also become more emboldened about wearing swimsuits and began wearing them on holiday but only on deserted beaches with my partner. I enjoyed swimming in the sea in a swimsuit, but was always watching for people approaching the beach so I could remove the suit prior to them arriving. As time as gone by I have become less paranoid, thinking that I doubted if anybody noticed me wearing a ladies swimsuit, they would give a damn!!! A couple of times I wore a ladies swimsuit on a beach where there were other people, although always as far away from other people as possible. On each of these occasions someone would make a point of walking along the beach, right past us, to see if the pervert in the swimsuit. Nothing was ever said and I always simply ignored them! What I thought as our absolutely brilliant sex life continued for a little while before my girlfriend approached me and said that she “did not want to do the peeing thing anymore” If I thought about it I was probably not going to be too surprised at this turn of events. In my heart of hearts I knew that the whole knicker-wetting thing was probably going to be the most controversial part of my desires. In fact I think that the fear of losing many a disgusted girlfriend at the mere mention of a wetting session had probably dogged me for life and contributed to my very late start in the world of relationships and sex. And I get that. Toilet training is drummed into us as such a young age, and probably gives rise to the concept that bodily waste is all dirty and disgusting, and to be disposed of, without delay, in shameful privacy. We are also taught that clothing is to be kept clean and dry and pristine at all times. Society teaches us that only the weak infirm and the very young suffer from incontinence, and that this is embarrassing beyond all measure when it occurs. Couple this with the, quite common, issue of female incontinence and you can start to see why the concept of gloriously, deliberately and electively pissing in her clothes does not fill the average woman with sexual delight and frenzy that would lead here to want to continue to the ultimate romance of uninhibited lovemaking. At that time I was keen to reassure my girlfriend that I had never wanted to ask her to do anything that she did not want to do, and that any desire I felt to see a female pee herself was based entirely on the person doing so for reasons of sexual pleasure, and not, in any way, because she had been forced or coerced into the act. Obviously I was keen to continue our wonderful wet sex life, so I asked her if she was still OK with everything else, including swimming costumes and wet clothing, and she assured me that she was. I went on to ask her if she minded if I continued with wetting myself, and again she said she was happy for me to do so. So for a while our wet life continued, though, if I was being honest, I really missed her wetting sessions prior to getting soaked. However these became few and far between, and as, with many relationships, did any form of sex. I continued to practice my lonely wet sessions, but these had really become little more than regularly wearing a one piece swimsuit into the shower when I bathed, as well as wearing one to the beach whilst we were on holiday abroad. A little while later my partner suggested moving in together and I thought this was a wonderful idea. Our new domestic arrangements did not however bring with it a resurgence of our early sex lives. I need to put on record the fact that whilst we were not actively involved in a sex life my partner still encouraged me to enjoy my kinks to the full. At no time did she belittle me. It was a little while later that I discovered a letter in a “gentelmans” magazine written by bloke telling about a house that was for rent with a private indoor swimming pool, his story sold of a week spent soaking his clothes on whim. I thought I liked the sound of that and enquired where I could find the house. I also approached my partner, to see if she would countenance a week of holiday where I could indulge in my most basic desires. To my surprise and amazement she agreed, and for a week I was going to be able to live my fetish. The plan for the week went something like, I would not take any normal underwear, or male swimwear instead I took my collection of ladies one pieces. We would wear nothing that could not be washed, which meant that we could swim in whatever clothes we were wearing. Maybe it’s the fact that I have not ever had the opportunity to “play” in a swimming pool that has given the whole thing an extra zing, although I’d had fully clothed wet sex with my partner in the shower, and the hot tub, actually getting to do it in a swimming pool had a whole new appeal, just the thought of it was enough to give me a raging erection in anticipation. Now, as I have stated above, my partner and I were not enjoying a “full and regular” sex life at the time, and I was quite certain that sex in the pool was going to be a “singular” activity. However I was pleasantly surprised when we had our first swim in the pool. I had worn clothes down to the house that I intended to swim in (including the obligatory swimsuit!) However my partner was less keen and had decided to change in to a one piece before swimming, As we entered the pool enclosure, she was keen to enter the pool, whilst I hung back to enjoy the pre soaking delights of peeing my pants. I did not want to spoil the moment, and so had been a little discreet about urinating in my clothes, and I’m not sure she was completely aware that I had done so. I then stood on the pool side and prepared to dive in. At this stage she was in the pool, and looked up at me. I’m not sure if I expected a look of disgust, or grudging acceptance, but I was surprised at what I did see. My partner smiled at me in a knowing and accepting way. I was a happy bunny, I was with someone I could be open with and share my deepest fantasies with, who accepted them, and allowed me to fulfil every dream. I wearing the clothes I wanted to wear, had been able to pee in them fully, and was about to soak them further by diving in to the pool, I was in heaven, and had the erection to prove it. I dived in, and enjoyed the completely different feeling that clothes take on when you are immersed in water. We swam a couple of lengths, and I then went over to my partner and embraced her, and we kissed. She was welcoming!! This was a welcome development. We snuggled, and kissed, we enjoyed foreplay! This was getting better all the time, It got a whole lot better when I pulled the gusset of her swimsuit to one side, whilst she undressed me and we had full sex, in the pool, still in most of my clothes! I got to swim in the pool three or four times a day, whilst my partner managed only once a day or so, each time I swam I went in wearing a full suit of clothes, usually wet with pee, and always masturbated in the pool, but usually on my own. My partner gave me the privacy to play with myself! On two occasions she dressed up to swim with me, and we has sex in the pool whilst still clothed. Towards the end of the week the novelty has worn a little thin, and I was not enjoying the thrill as much as the initial rush when we first arrived. I guess I had sort of hoped that this might have re-ignited our sex lives somewhat, however at the end of the week we returned to our home and to our celibate life together. A year or so later I had a hankering to return to the holiday home for another wet week. Again my partner agreed, but it was clear here heart was not really in it. Blinkered and blind to her reservations I went ahead and booked the house again, and commenced planning another hedonistic and damp holiday away from normality. I should have realised things were not going well from the start. My partner came and swam with me in the pool, but despite suggestions and requests, wore a bikini rather than a one piece swimsuit. Now bikinis are OK, to a small extent, but they are not one piece swimsuits! And I really like one piece swimsuits. We did, however, make love a couple of times away from the pool, which was a very welcome change to our usual sexless routine. Then one evening, whilst we were still on the holiday, my partner sat on one of the sofas and began to tell me that she had had her first sexual experience, in a public swimming pool, whilst dressed in a one piece swimsuit at a time when she had been sexually quite young. The incident had been entirely consensual, it had, however left her physically hurt and bleeding. In tears she told me that she had gone home, but her parents refused to call a doctor. She was instead put to bed in shame for two weeks whilst her injuries healed. This, she said, was the reason she did not want to wear a swimsuit. Anyone who does not have a heart of pure stone would have expected me to go and comfort here at this point. Reassure her that everything was fine, and that if she did not want to wear a swimsuit she really did not have to wear one. Looking back it is with huge shame that that is exactly what I did not do! Our relationship, in general, had become quite difficult by this time. And my thinking was that, given her initial wholesale acceptance of my kinks and fetishes, her story could not be true. I honestly thought that she had fabricated it as a pretence to avoid sex. Later that same year, amongst accusations of me having a sick mind and needing to seek help, we parted. Looking back I can’t say I blame her. In my heart of hearts I’d also like to be able to apologise to her. Much though there were other reasons for the break up, and I was not a saint on many counts, she did have a point. To this day I am deeply ashamed for my shortcomings towards her. Not really wanting to return to a single life I sought new love, making use of a couple of dating sites on the internet. Within a very short period of time I hooked up with another woman. From the start the relationship was different. We did not however delay the leap into a physical relationship as I had done seven years, or so, before with my now Ex. By now I had become very accustomed to showering in a swimsuit and had no desire to discontinue this practice. This did however mean that on many occasions there was a damp swimming costume drying in the bathroom. I had to explain to my new girlfriend that she need not be concerned. This was not evidence of other female company, but simply a sign of my obsession with ladies one piece swimming costumes. Once again I had decided that if this was going to be a deal breaker in the relationship it was better to get it over with at an early stage. Again I was surprised at the response. She assured me that she was not concerned about such things. She went on to say that she had several friends who were gay, and had suffered for many years coming to terms with their feelings. She was happy that I was able to be open and honest about my sexual desires. Emboldened by our discussions I went on to tell her about my wetlook and knicker wetting kinks as well. I felt I needed to be completely open and honest if we were going to make any sort of life together though I did emphasise that what I was saying was a statement of my likes and not a list of demands that she was going to have to fulfil! Again there were no screams of disgust, just a quiet acceptance and reflection. She did speak up to say that she disliked one piece swimming costumes, and the idea of making love whilst fully clothed, wet or otherwise, was a bit of an anathema to her as she hated anything other than “skin to skin” contact under these circumstances. She did not however, belittle my desires or do anything to shoot down my dreams. As I mentioned above this was a different time altogether. Our sex life continued and initially she was very patient with my particular personal likes and kinks, though she did not play the games in full. There were several times that she wore a swimsuit in the shower as well as the hot tub, and these were usually preceded with a wetting. Unfortunately my new soggy partner drew the line at wearing any other clothes in the water. But hey, half a loaf is better than no bread! Initially she was also happy to “play along” if we were out and I saw a swimsuit I might like to buy. Initially I was very happy. As time went by however our sex life dwindled to nothing, as did her acceptance of my “strange” habits. I suspect that the approach and onset of the menopause has turned her desires away from lovemaking and all of the manifestations of a varied sex life. We have even got to point where if I put on a swimsuit under my clothes to wear during a normal day I get quite a glare and a very short tempered enquiry. “--Why did you put THAT on,-- You’re NOT going out dressed like that are you,-- and the like. We are in the privileged position to live in a place where we can contemplate putting in a pool, which will not come as a surprise is one of the things I have always wanted to do! In the early stages of the planning she made some comment along the lines of....... and whatever it you’ll want to do in the pool! As if she had absolutely no idea... I guess it just signifies that she does not want to countenance my, albeit slightly off the beaten track, fantasies! She has not yet said anything to curtail my shower sessions, but I can see this looming on the horizon. I really don’t think I’m doing anyone any harm, other than enjoying a sexual fantasy at a time when she would rather prefer that the whole concept of sex did not exist. I find myself trying to tread the path between “not rubbing her nose in it” and “going completely behind her back”. My guess is that sometime in the near future we will have to have a discussion, I just hope that it will not be at the top of our voices. I think that an outright ban on my wet swimsuit wearing activities would simply drive me “underground”. Final Thoughts, or at least the beginning of the end! I think that I am quite well balanced in my attitude towards my fetishes. (Ask my partner and get a completely different answer!) I recognise that most of it would be thought of as a bit odd, if not plain weird by society in general. I am actually quite happy about that. It does give an extra angle to think that I am enjoying something that would be generally frowned upon! I also see it for what it is, a fetish or two or three). I don’t want to change the world, I don’t want any of this to “become the norm” it is different, it is special, and I want to keep it that way, less it become common place, and boring! I think there is something buried quite deeply into the British psyche, which both hides our real sexual drives away, and at the same time feeds on the naughtiness of the taboo. (I’m guessing that in other cultures people can be more open about their sexual habits and desires) However, here we tend to hide our inner selves away. I think this becomes quite an important part of our nature, and gives our kinks an extra buzz. I’m fast approaching the age of sixty, and expect that some people, probably including my partner, would expect sex to be a thing of the past. However, I do not feel ready to leave that world behind. I still have an eye for a pretty woman, though I would agree that the upper end of the age bracket does keep widening! I think I am sometimes in grave danger of getting labelled as a dirty old man! If I have one big regret in my life it is this. My inferiority complex and the fear of provoking disgust and rejection inhibited me from forming relationships during the early and middle part of my adult life. Inhibitions that, in later life, have proved to be not entirely founded in reality. Neither of my long term partners expressed disgust at my fantasies and both of them played along, to a greater or lesser extent. All too late I have learned the lesson – It was never the issue I assumed it would be. In short I feel that I missed out on an awful lot of sex!!! I’m of an age, and in a stable relationship, that probably means that a regular sex life within a loving relationship is very much a thing of the past. So basically I’ve shot my bolt! I also kind of understand that unless you are lucky enough to find a partner with a common fantasy to share then one of you is going to be “going through the motions” to please the other one. This is only going to be a temporary phase which will quickly pale and will, most likely, have a detrimental effect on your lovemaking in general. Ah well. At least I have some happy memories to fall back on. Who was it who said that “Sic glorius transit mudie” The glories of life are fleeting?
  3. As promised here is the follow up to ‘In Times of Desperation’. Book 2, chapter 1: Will opened his fridge for milk to pour on his freshly made coffee, staring openly at the sausages in front of him trying to work out why they were there. Will only ever ordered exactly what he ate each week, via the internet, and today, Monday, there should be chicken or beef, 1 onions, 2 garlic cloves, ginger, some milk, one yoghurt and a little butter. Sausages were Saturday’s meal. Will checked the calendar as he suddenly realised why his Saturday food had been uneaten. Since meeting Sarah he’s thrown food out for the first time in his adult life. Will hated wastage, but he loved Sarah. As his toast popped in the toaster he dropped the sausages in the bin and smiled as he recalled what he had actually been doing two nights ago instead of eating the sausages. Sarah was worth it. More than worth it. Besides today wasn’t a usual Monday anyway. Today he had no work for the first time in a very long time, which threw Will off kilter and made him anxious but did provide a major bonus of a whole week of seeing Sarah. Will ate his breakfast in the exact same time frame as usual, showered, dressed, packed his coffee cup with fresh coffee in his Tupperware box, as always, and left his apartment exactly to the minute as he did every work day. Locking the apartment door he slipped his coat on, left arm first as was his habit, his backpack over his shoulder, his car keys in his right hand pocket. In his car Will turned his sat nav on and drove the few miles to Sarah’s, even though he had driven the same short journey so many times before. Sarah sipped her tea and ate her porridge as she checked her emails at her small dining table. It felt weird not going to work on a Monday but as the landlord needed access to the building to do some essential repairs she was forced to close for a week. She had been so looking forward to this week, a whole week with her new lover Will, but despite them sharing some incredibly passionate moments in the month since they met there were still aspects of her life he didn’t know, and for now she wanted it to stay that way. Glancing at the clock she finished her tea, quickly checked her online bank account then closed her laptop. Today she wasn’t a therapist, today she and Will were decorating her living room together in what had been Will’s idea one night when she casually said she was thinking of changing her ceiling light as it cast a terrible shadow in one corner of the room. When Will offered to fit it he quite bluntly asked when her ceiling was last painted and so the plan of decorating was formed. Sarah didn’t dare admit she was hopeless at DIY as she opened the box that Will had left there the day before with two overalls, cover sheets, brushes, paint, rollers, trays, turpentine, wallpaper paste, masking tape, wallpaper and decorating scissors. Thankfully Will had everything already since he did everything himself on his own apartment as he hated having any workmen ever in. Sarah hadn’t touched her house since she moved in, deliberately renting somewhere that had been freshly decorated. Will rang Sarah’s bell and pushed the door open, still feeling nervous despite having been in the house many times in the last month. He had planned it all out in detail, calculating exactly how much paper and paint they would need and how much paste to mix and even how long he expected it would take. ‘Sarah, it’s me, Will.’ Sarah loved Will’s voice. It sent shivers through her. ‘I’m in the kitchen.’ ‘Hi, is it ok to just get started? I have it all written down here. I’ll start with the ceiling, then the fireplace wall then move round to this one with the kitchen door. It’s smaller but will take a bit longer with painting round the door, then it’s this wall with the door from the stairs then I’ll end with the window wall. I reckon even with the moving furniture around I’ll have this all done by 5. It’ll still need time to dry but after I clean up and all that I’ll be away by 5:30 the same time I leave work.’ Sarah laughed. ‘Will, you’re my boyfriend not my handy man! You don’t need to leave at 5:30...and unlike work you don’t need to hold your bladder all day either. That’s unless you want to...’ She winked at Will but he was already taking off his jumper, climbing into the overall and heading into the main room to get started.
  4. Anyone else feels incredibly scared of getting into a relationship because of this fetish? Now , i want a relationship cause i feel lonely and i really want someone , but i feel scared of being mocked or rejected because of this fetish that i have , along with some other kinks...
  5. As promised. If you don't know Parker and Meagan, read these first: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 5 1/2 Part 6 Part 7 We left Parker in a tough spot, as Dacy has just told him the story of how she wet her shorts -- and Meagan is not pleased. ~~~~~~~~~~~~ He went after her. “Meagan, wait,” Parker said, as he followed her down the hallway. “So here’s a twist: no.” “Meagan! Come on, you’re overreacting.” “I’m overreacting? I’m overreacting? I heard what I heard and I saw what I saw.” “She was telling me a story, for crying out loud,” Parker said as she slammed the dorm door open and charged outside. “And you were just eating it up,” she shot back, quietly. “I saw you. There’s a part of you that doesn’t lie.” “Oh, come on… I mean… look, that part’s really stupid sometimes, okay?” “Believe me, I know!” “But I wasn’t…” She stopped, whirled around, and said, “The rest of you wasn’t lying either.” The ice in her voice and in her eyes made him shiver. “You were eating it up,” Meagan said, her voice dropping almost to a whisper. “I wanted to get the fuck out of there!” “Door was open. You could have left any time.” Damn it, she’s right about that. I did want to hear the end. Outmaneuvered, he changed tactics. “Look, you’re basically saying this because of your trust issues, that’s all. You need to chill out.” “Oh, is that all?” Meagan said. “Is that all?” “I’m sorry I got turned on by the story! But piss happens, you know? I can’t turn it off or on just when I want to. But listen to me, I don’t…” He stopped. “Mister, you don’t get to tell me how I should feel,” Meagan said. “Not now. Not after everything we’ve done together.” “Wait, I’m confused—” “Too bad.” She turned again and started striding away. “Meagan!” “Don’t follow me.” “I just want to…” Meagan whirled around again. “Boy, you will stop following me or I will put you down.” Parker froze. He watched her go. He watched her merge into the crowd. He watched her until she had vanished from his sight, and then he watched the hole she’d left behind. ~~~ He’d expected the last week of school to be stressful. He just hadn’t thought it would be because of this. He tried to throw himself into his work. He bounced right out again. He tried to bury his feelings in music. Somehow the songs always ended up sad. He played games where he gunned down many things. Somehow this left him feeling even more tense. He tried to sleep. Sleep wasn’t having it. After two days of this, his brain and body felt like they’d been dried out, chopped to shreds, scrambled like an egg, then thrown into an oven, and finally dropped down a deep hole. Jonathan his roommate was naturally no help. Neither was CJ. The guys on the Ultimate team might be better, but a) that felt a little too close to home, and b) they all had finals, too. So Parker consulted his online friends again… the smarter ones, at least. dude. she sounds like a piece of work girls can get so damn jelous if i were you man i’d just forget her summer’s coming anyway thank you for playing, better luck next time Parker consulted a different online friend. sorry to hear that, man. that sounds really stressful how can I help? i’m still trying to figure out what i did wrong she said i didn’t get to tell her how she should feel well duh what do you mean? You can’t help what you feel, right? same goes for her if she’s jealous she’s jealous you can’t fight the feeling you can only give her a different one I mean, think about it how do *you* feel about her? Parker didn’t have to think very long. i was totally falling for her, man. ya think? so if I told you, ‘stop falling for her right now’ could you do it? um no figured it out yet? “Oh,” Parker said. “Oh. Oh, shit. I basically said that she should stop feeling jealous right before I told her that I couldn’t stop getting turned on… and she’d done all that for me because of what I felt…” you still there man? Oh shit i’m sorry i litrally just said “oh shit’ out loud and didn’t realize i hadn’t typed it yet so you got it yah question now is, what do i do about it nah, about that? You got no choice You gotta apologize, boy but do you want her back? cause i’m smellin the jelly from here and i’m five states away if she’s that jealous it’s gonna keep coming back do you even want her back/ *? Parker thought. And Parker remembered… “Oh, my dear sweet hedgehog, no no no no no. God no!” “There need to be more guys like you, Parker,” Meagan said. “If there aren’t, I’m gonna have to start renting you out so all my friends can see what they’re missing. And I don’t know if I can do that.” “Don’t want to share?” “Can’t decide what to charge.” “$9.95 an hour.” “Hon, you are selling yourself seriously short. It would be at least $12.” The wild dance party, joy just running through both of them… Meagan naked, struggling to hold it in for just one more second for him… Meagan riding him, tall in the saddle, a sly and satisfied smile playing across her face… Meagan’s legs as she did squats in the weight room… And most of all… (Savannah, Georgia. Six weeks earlier.) They had walked out along the warm ocean-side, just the two of them, holding hands, barefoot on the wet sand right at water’s edge. The sun was still high and shining down on their faces. The gulls were crying. Parker still hadn’t quite come down from the high of his birthday present, especially not since he’d spent virtually every waking hour with Meagan since then. “This is perfect,” he said. “It’s really not,” Meagan said at once. “Why? What’s wrong?” “Nothing is ever perfect.” Meagan stopped walking, let go of his hand, and looked out to sea. “That’s… pessimistic.” “No, it’s realistic. Listen, Parker, when I say nothing is ever perfect, I’m speaking from experience here, okay? I thought I had perfect moments with perfect guys. Now those ‘perfect’ moments—” she made the air quotes with her fingers “—are kinda painful memories. Which remind me of even more painful memories. Remember, hon, I have seen some really terrible things, and done a couple of them myself. “And you know, this is kind of a crapsack world.” She gestured out at the ocean. “Out there people are starving, fighting, stealing, raping, straight-up owning slaves… No moment is ever perfect, not if you’ve got compassion.” “But that means you can never be happy.” “You’re mixing up perfection and happiness. I can be happy even if something’s not quite right. I can be happy even if I know the moment won’t last. And I can be happy knowing that however bad it gets, I’m learning. All those ‘perfect’ moments that are kinda painful for me now? I don’t regret any of them. Not to say I’ve got no regrets, because my dear god do I have some. But I’ve learned from it all. And the main thing I’ve learned is that in a crapsack world, you grab onto whatever you can find that’s not crappy. Because it’s all the more important, you see? “A day like this, a place like this, walking on the warm sand with my sweetie, games to be played with the team I love… that’s about as far from crappy as it gets. So it’s not perfect, but I’m going to remember this as long as I can. As long as I’ve got half a brain left. Because in all the crap, the good moments matter a lot.” She took his hand. He stood beside her, following her gaze out across the ocean. They stood quiet for a long moment. Then he said, “Did you get that from Angel? The ‘no big win’ speech in Season 2?” She grinned. “You figured it out.” “I think I…” He paused, started over. “You know, you are the coolest. Wait, I’m learning, I got this! …You are super-cool in a super-uncool world.” She kissed his cheek, then his lips, and they made out until the tide lapped at their ankles. He wanted to remember this moment for a long time, too… do you even want her back/ *? Parker’s cursor blinked at him. And then he typed, carefully but firmly: Absolutely. Then he closed the chat. ~~~ Meagan worked in the college mail room. This meant it was incredibly easy to get hold of her, as long as you sent your note by interdepartmental mail. Parker didn’t take that approach—he didn’t trust it to be her who picked it up—but he did sneak into the mail room when he was confident she was at lunch and slipped a note into her mailbox. He’d tried to say as much as possible as shortly as possible, and it had only taken him eleven tries. It read: Meagan, I’m sorry. You were right. I was wrong. You’ve really taken care of my feelings and I should have taken care of yours. Thank you so much, for everything. Parker ~~~ He hadn’t expected a reply, although he’d hoped for one. He’d hoped for the knock on his door, but he hadn’t expected to see Dacy standing there. “Parker, I’m so sorry!” she said immediately. “I think I messed everything up. Um… can we talk? Do you have time?” Parker was suddenly acutely conscious of Jonathan watching. “Uh—yeah. Let’s… just… go for a walk, maybe?” “Sure!” It had been a while since Parker had seen Dacy dressed so formally. She wasn’t in a suit, but she definitely looked more professional. “So Meagan didn’t talk to me for, like, two days,” she said. “So all I knew was that something went really really wrong that day and I didn’t know why. She finally calmed down enough to get mad at me.” “Wait, what?” “When Meagan gets really really mad, she just locks you out.” “Yeah, I’m getting that.” “Uh-huh! So she calmed down enough that she could yell at me, and that’s when she told me she thought I was coming on to you.” She wrinkled her nose. “She didn’t really explain why she thought that...” Thank you once again, Meagan, for keeping my secret. “…But then, she wasn’t making total sense because she also said that you were coming on to me.” “Huh?” “I know, right? She walked in on us talking, she thought we were flirting, she flips, she doesn’t come home for two days.” “She didn’t even come back to the room?” “Nope.” “Where did she sleep?” “She says she didn’t.” “Uh… wow.” “Yeah. So I calmed her down even more so she was calm enough to not yell at me any more and I think she believed me that I wasn’t into you.” “You’re not?” “Yeah, no offense, but you’re really just not what I’m looking for in a guy.” “Out of curiosity, what am I missing?” “About three years and six inches,” Dacy said promptly. “…Which six inches did you have in mind?” She stuck her tongue out at him. “Parker, I’m shocked! That’s like something I would say!” He shrugged. “I just work with what you give me.” “I’d say something back to that but then we’d be flirting and that’s not what I came here for at all because then we’d be proving Meagan’s crazy jealousy right,” Dacy said, all in one breath. “Um. Okay. How is she now?” “She turned in her last paper and collapsed. Called in sick at work, too. Hasn’t woken up since.” “So you didn’t come from her?” “No, I’m not her go-between. Yet. Would you like me to be?” “You mean like take messages back and forth?” “God no! Who has time for that? I meant I’d get the two of you talking again. But I gotta ask if you still want to get back with her.” “Absolutely. But—” Dacy waited a whole five seconds, which showed how seriously she was taking this. “I’m not expecting anything,” he said. “Mostly I just want to make things right before we all go home.” Dacy nodded. “Okay. And I’m not sure but I think she’s really sad about you. So anyway I thought I’d offer and I talked to you first since you were the one who was awake.” “Yes. Please. I would be so grateful.” “Okay. As soon as she wakes up I’ll ask her.” ~~~ The next five days passed incredibly slowly, which was especially bad since it was really only one day. It just felt five times as long. But even though it felt like most of a year, the phone did eventually ring, and it was Dacy. “Meet us in the quad,” she said, and hung up. Parker quickly put on a clean shirt and went out. It was getting late, after dinner; the spring sun was setting, but the air was still warm. Meagan was wearing her cutoff jeans—not classic Daisy Dukes but far more practical loose thigh-lengths—and a maroon tank top and, judging by the strap visible on her left shoulder, a black bra. Her freckled shoulders were in full display, except that she was wearing her hair down. She looked exhausted, and also amazing. But he kept his hands to himself. Her eyes flickered to his face, and then away. Dacy pulled a blanket out of her bag, spread it out on the ground, and said, “Okay, I’ll leave you to it!” and vanished. Wait, don’t leave, I’m not sure I’m ready for this… Meagan looked up again and held his gaze at last, and her tired eyes had so clearly been crying. And he couldn’t help it. He stepped closer and spread his arms to fold her in—but just at the last second he remembered. “Hug?” he asked, gently. She nearly tackled him, she hugged him so hard. This went on some time. Then they broke apart just enough to look each other in the eye again. “I’m so sorry,” Meagan said. “I am, too.” “You don’t need to apologize,” she said. “Oh, I think I do. The way I treated you—” “I mean you don’t need to apologize again. I got your note. Thank you for that, by the way.” “Oh. You’re welcome.” “It was just about perfect.” “Some wise person once told me there was no such thing as perfect.” “Well, that note was pretty close. So sweet and broke my heart. I wish I’d gotten it earlier… do you know I don’t usually check my mailbox very often? The mail room just hands me anything that’s got my name on it.” “Oh, shit,” he said, grinning. “I didn’t.” “Yeah, the only reason I got it at all was I was clearing out some of the junk that had piled up this semester. Fuckin’ lucky.” “I’ll say.” “And I’d already pretty much made my mind up, but that made it so much easier.” “Made your mind up on what?” “I want to talk a few things through with you first.” She glanced at the blanket lying unoccupied on the ground next to them. “Do you wanna sit down? Dacy brought it out here, it would kinda be a waste if we don’t. And she’s trying so hard…” “Okay,” he said, and released her. He sat cross-legged; she knelt down, sitting on her heels. She brushed her red-touched hair off her shoulder and said, “So you know I’m like, two years older than you?” This wasn’t the way he’d expected this conversation to go. “But you’re just a sophomore.” “I took a year off. Had to. I needed to work enough to pay for this place.” She sighed. “Anyway. I’m definitely older than you. And we both know I’m way more experienced. I thought about that a lot these past few days.” Yeah, okay, this is a bit more of what I expected. She’s definitely breaking up with me. “Well, you can’t be two full years. Our birthdays are only five months apart.” “All right, Mr. Precision, seventeen months. But ‘it’s not the years, it’s the mileage.’ What I’m trying to say is, I felt really bad about it. I’m the older one, and you are still figuring relationships out, and so I’m not the one who should have acted like a middle schooler, jumped to all kinds of conclusions, and then stomped off and given everyone the silent treatment.” “Okay.” “I finally talked to Dacy, and she told me her side of the story, and I realized I had fucked up well beyond all recognition. You see, I thought either you had asked her to tell you that story about her wetting her pants, or that she had figured out you were into it and she was hitting on you.” “No, she just volunteered it, totally out of the blue.” “Yeah, I finally figured that out.” “So wait. This was all because of a little misunderstanding?” “No, a little misunderstanding plus my raging trust issues. Like you said.” She held up a hand. “But don’t feel too superior just yet. I was just angry and jealous until then. When you said that, when you just took my secrets and threw them in my face like that, and had the guts to say I was being too emotional about it, all at once? That was, like, the worst possible thing you could have said, in the worst possible way.” “I know. I’m so, so sorry.” “I know you are. That’s what made me so glad about your note, that you’d figured it out.” “I had help.” “Still counts. The other thing that made me glad about that note was that you didn’t ask me to take you back. I honestly was expecting you to beg. But you didn’t. That honestly made it so much easier.” “I get it,” Parker said. “Big age gap, bigger experience gap, and summer’s coming. I understand. Easier just to end it.” “Oh yeah, much easier,” Meagan said. She took a deep breath. “But I don’t want to.” She can’t possibly mean what I think she means… “I mean, when do I ever do things the easy way?” Meagan asked, spreading her hands questioningly to emphasize her point. “You wanna stay together?” Those spread hands came to rest on his shoulders. “I do. I mean, sure it’s gonna be tough, but…” He kissed her. She kissed him back. “I’m not gonna complain,” Parker said once he’d gotten his breath back, “but… why?” “I thought back to that day on the beach… and I thought, Wait, here’s this good thing, like the best thing that’s ever come along in my love life, and I’m going to fuck it up because I’m assuming it’s going to go to crap? Because it’s too hard? No. You’re not perfect, Parker, but I’ve never been with anyone better than you. And you are so infinitely better than everyone else I’ve ever been with. I just… don’t want to let go of that. Of you.” “I was remembering that day, too.” “I could tell, from what you said earlier.” “That’s how I decided I still wanted to be with you,” he said. “I want to be with someone who thinks like that.” She grinned, a little sheepish. “What, someone who steals their life’s philosophy from a TV show about a vampire detective?” “Absolutely.” She kissed him again. And then they kissed each other for a long time. “You’ve never had a real fight like this before, have you?” Meagan asked. “Not really. Not one that we came back from.” “You did a pretty good job, then.” “Thank you.” “But you’ve never had make-up sex, have you?” “Nope.” “Then you are in for a treat, my friend.” She kissed his cheek. “Are you still leaving Friday?” “Um, I could push it back a bit. My dad’s driving down to pick me up, he wouldn’t mind waiting, I don’t think.” “Good. If you can leave Saturday instead we can do this properly.” She looked intently into his eyes. “But this time, we’re gonna do it my way. Basically that means I’ll be in charge. Okay?” “Yes please,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to ask about that, actually. You’ve been so so good with what I want, I wanna give back with what you want.” “Do you have any problems with me being in charge? Like, totally in charge?” “I trust you.” She kissed him. “You do, don’t you. That means… a lot, you know. “But don’t worry,” she added, “I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.” She leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Because I’ll be sure to drink lots of water ahead of time.” “How is this your way, then?” “You’ll see.” “Not tonight, though.” “No. God no. I am exhausted.” She grinned. “Wanna spend the night anyway?” “Yes please. But can you get Dacy to wear something more than that t-shirt?” “Believe me, I’ll try.” That night, they cuddled close under the bedsheet, Meagan as big spoon, and Parker cried a little out of sheer relief and wonder. Meagan heard him or felt him, and hugged him tighter. “I got you,” she said, and there was a little catch in her voice, too. “I got you.” ~~~ The next two days were finals and Parker’s grades probably went up about 5% from what he’d expected to get: up 20 because he was no longer stressing, down 15 because he was thinking about the weekend. The night after finals were over there were All The Parties, as Meagan put it, and they went drinking and dancing. In the middle of one party Meagan led Parker off the dance floor and upstairs to where there was a shorter line for the bathroom, and made out with him until their turn came, and took him in with her. “Lotta drunk guys at this party,” she explained as she undid her belt and pulled down her pants. “I wanted an escort. And I wanted you to see this,” she added as she sat down on the toilet and started to pee. “Is this the start of the make-up sex?” “Call it the prologue.” She pulled grabbed his hand and pulled him in for a kiss, still peeing. “I just want you thinking about me and pee the next little while, that’s all,” she explained. “Oh, believe me, I’m thinking about it.” “You do that.” On Friday, nothing much happened before noon because of the mass hangover, and then the mass exodus began, as people packed up dorm rooms, loaded cars, and drove away for the summer. Meagan and Parker were no exception, except that they helped each other pack so they could stay closer together. Parker’s roommate Jonathan was already mostly packed, which made Parker’s job pretty easy. They put a lot of his stuff into storage for next year, then took his suitcase and duffel bag and backpack over to Meagan’s room. Dacy was taking a lot longer to clean up and Meagan hadn’t even started yet, but between the three of them they got Dacy’s stuff out to her mother’s car without problems and put most of Meagan’s rather fewer belongings into storage. A few crucial items remained in Meagan’s bedside table, however. And all throughout it, Meagan kept sipping water, steadily. And often as she did, she gave Parker’s hand a squeeze, or gave him a quick wink, or just raised one eyebrow with a knowing look. Dacy’s mom took them all out to dinner, which was a very nice change from the cafeteria (which was closed anyway), and then they said their farewells in the parking lot. Dacy gave them both big hugs. Parker tried not to get too excited about this, and Dacy definitely kept it brief compared to the long embrace she gave to Meagan. “I’m so so so glad you guys are okay again,” Dacy said. “You are so sweet together, I just couldn’t stand it!” “We’re pretty glad too,” Parker said dryly. “I love you both! Stay in touch! Have good sex! See you in August!” Then she was gone, and suddenly the whole campus seemed quiet. Meagan took Parker by the hands and drew him close. She smooched him several times quickly on his cheek and nose and (standing on tiptoe) forehead, then gave him a long, lingering kiss with her hand on his back pressing him firmly to her. “Alone at last,” she whispered in his ear. His blood started pounding. “And guess what?” “Hmm?” “I kinda need to pee. I haven’t gone for hours.” “I noticed.” “Shall we go for a walk?” “Not inside?” “No, silly, we’ve been in dorm rooms all day, and the sun won’t be down for an hour. Besides, we’ve got to make me wait a little longer, don’t we?” “Where are you at, scale of 1 to 10?” “Oh, I don’t know. I can hold so dang long it’s hard to judge these things. But I can tell you this much, I’d go right now if I weren’t holding it for you.” Those words sent a shiver through him. She grinned and ran a finger up his back, underneath his shirt. “That’s what I want to see,” she said. They strolled through the sports fields behind campus, then up the gentle hill toward where the woods began, holding hands, occasionally stopping for another kiss, occasionally stopping so they could take drinks from Meagan’s bottle, which she had carefully taken with them. They talked of various things, but somehow the conversation always circled back around to their relationship… “I’m gonna be working all June and July.” “Where do you work again?” “Camp Graham, remember? I get to corral herds of fifth and sixth graders for nine straight weeks.” “Do you get any time off?” “Oh yeah, the parents show up on Saturday morning and we always threaten that if there’s a kid still there at noon we’ll leave them for the wolves. And then we don’t have to be back on duty until the first kids for the next week come in on Sunday afternoon. Saturdays we generally party, Sunday morning we generally sleep, but that doesn’t take all the time. So I can definitely call you on the weekend.” “Mm, sounds tough.” “Oh, it is. You would not believe what those girls get themselves into.” “Drama?” “Like none other.” “Ever need to run the boys out of the girls’ side of camp?” “At least once a year. Pays pretty well, though, and that’s the crucial bit. But then that leaves us with August.” “What about it?” “I’m thinking you could come out and see me the week before school starts and we can go up to my family’s cabin. Then maybe we can drive down to school together. How’s that sound?” “Fantastic!” “’Kay, it’s a deal! We can talk more once I talk to my uncle, he’s the one who owns it.” “Okay, I’m really excited now.” “That was the general idea,” Meagan said, her voice suddenly turning sultry. “Not that way!” “Oh, you should be, though. A cabin on 47 acres of forest land? All to ourselves? We can get up to so much fun that way.” “Well, now that you put it that way...” “For instance,” she said, “I can show you how girls can pee in the woods. Or would you like to see that right now? We’ve got trees right over there.” Parker swallowed. “That would be kinda nice…” “But there’s no one around,” Meagan said. “I could just drop my pants and squat down right here.” “Do you want to?” “Mmmm. I kinda do. It’s getting a little more urgent now.” “If you want to, go ahead.” “Mmmmmmmmm.” She wrapped her arms around him and laced her fingers together behind his neck, pulling him down for a kiss. And then another. “I think I want to tell you something first.” “Sure.” “We’re doing this my way. Remember? And that means I’m in charge.” “Yeah. I remember.” “So you no longer get to decide when I pee. ‘Kay?” “Got it.” “So if I wanted to do this—” she undid the top button of her cutoffs and unzipped them, revealing a flash of the green cotton below “—and then pop a squat, that would be my call. But instead I’m going to hold it a little longer, because you like it so much.” “I really do.” “Well, I’m going to wait. And you are going to wait. Because I’m in charge, and so you won’t cum until I say so. Got it?” “Uh… okay.” “Touch my clit, Parker,” she said, and he found it through the unzipped fly, under the green cotton. She shivered a little, then ran a trailing finger down the crotch of his jeans. He was a little hard underneath; at her touch, he got a little harder. “You like that?” “Yup.” “You like that I’m holding it for you?” “Fuck yes.” “Good. Good.” She kissed him, long and lingering, and then zipped up her cutoffs—without redoing the top button, he noticed—and took him by the hand and led him up to the woods. They went a short way in, where it was not too dark to see yet but was still under a little cover. “Ever seen a girl pee in a tree, Parker?” “Can’t say I have.” “Someday you will, I promise.” She leaned back against a tree and beckoned to him. “Kiss me, Parker,” she commanded, and he hurried to obey. He stiffened further as he pressed against her body. “Time for a new rule, I think,” Meagan said. “You don’t get to touch your cock any more. Even rubbing it up against me. ‘Kay? Only I get to decide when you get touched.” This was… oddly thrilling. “Got it.” “Take my shirt off, hon.” She held up her arms to make it easy for him, and he did as he was told, shivering a bit more with the excitement of doing this outside. She was wearing a black bra again. “Take this off me,” she said, turning her back to him, “but do not touch my breasts.” This took some time, since he fumbled with it. She shrugged out of the bra straps, holding the cups up to her breasts with her hands. “Take the bra from me, fold it up, and put it in my back pocket. You don’t get to touch my ass, either.” He pulled it out of her hands, which she kept covering her breasts, and followed instructions. “Kiss my shoulders. But don’t touch my back with your hands.” As he leaned close to do this, she backed into him with her butt and brushed it against his crotch, then drew away. After a few kisses on her freckled shoulders, she turned around, still cupping her breasts. “Do you want to see these?” she said. “Always.” “Pay the price.” She puckered her lips, and he kissed them. She slid her hands down slowly, down onto her belly, then down to her hips, and stood posed like that, watching his eyes, which were looking hungrily at her. He bent to kiss them. “No,” she said, firmly and gently, and pushed him back. She brought her hands to her breasts again, pushing them together. “You like that?” “Uh-huh.” “Would you like to put your cock there? Slide in right between them?” “Uh, yeah.” “We’ll do that someday, then,” she said. “But not right now. Right now, I really need to pee. What do you think? Should I pee right here?” She unzipped the fly of her jean cutoffs again. “You’re in charge.” “Fuckin’ right I am,” she said. She pulled the cutoffs down to her thighs, then her panties… but she kept one hand covering her crotch almost demurely. “Look closely, but it’s look and don’t touch,” Meagan said. She leaned back against the tree again and went into a sitting position. Parker watched, transfixed. “Just fix this picture in your mind,” she whispered. “Wait for the sound of my piss hitting the ground.” Nothing happened for a long moment, except that Parker’s breathing was going a lot faster. Then Meagan stood up and pulled her pants up again. “You didn’t pee?” “I decide when and where, remember?” Meagan said. “But imagine that I might have, hmm? Imagine what that would be like.” He did, and swallowed hard. She pulled her shirt back on—but didn’t put her bra back on before she did. “Getting a little cold out here?” Meagan asked, cradling her hands under her breasts and lifting them up for his inspection. Her nipples were visibly hard through the cotton. “Not really,” he said, truthfully. “Mmmhmm. This is all me, not the weather.” She gave a little shiver. “And feeling the shirt rubbing direct on my nips… mmm, that’s nice right now.” She took his hand. “You know what else feels nice?” “What?” “I am definitely ready to go find a place to pee. I think we’ll go back to the dorm now.” As they passed the spot on the path where she’d first unzipped her shorts, Parker asked, “How bad do you need to go?” “If I want you to know I’ll tell you,” Meagan said, warmly. “Ah. Got it.” “But since I do want you to know, I’ll tell you right now. If I weren’t with you I would have peed in the woods.” “Would you really pee out in the open, like you said?” She thought about it. “I think I’d have to be a little bit more desperate for that. I’d probably try to find some cover, even if no one was watching. But would you like me to do that someday? Out in public, no cover at all?” “Yes please.” “We’ll see if we can arrange that,” Meagan said. She stopped for a moment. “Imagine me squatting down right here,” she said. “Pants around my ankles. Bare-assed. Just picture that for a second.” He shivered, and shivered again as she traced the bulge at the front of his jeans with her fingers. “What I might do, if no one were around,” she said, “is take this out and play with it a little. Would you like that?” “Yes. Yes…” “Would you like that right now?” “Yes, please.” “Mmm, too bad,” she said, taking her hand away. “I’ve got plans for you. But also I don’t want to wait around here much longer, since I’m not going to pop a squat for you. Let’s get back.” Campus was almost empty, so they strolled through the brick buildings and tree-lined paths without any worries about the three erections (two small and breast-mounted, one large and at the crotch) that were fairly visible to the world close up. As they came to the lock on Meagan’s dorm, she crossed her legs as she slid the card through the card reader. “Now what?” Parker whispered, and wondered why he was bothering. “Bathroom?” “Oh, not yet,” Meagan purred, leading him down the hall by the hand. “I can last a little longer.” The door of her dorm room closed behind them. The room felt very empty, very strange, with all of the decorations down and most of the stuff packed away. But Meagan had left her bed intact, as well as a thin drape that she was using to cover the white-painted cinder-block wall, so that still felt familiar. Meagan turned to Parker, pulled him close, kissed him, and then crossed her legs. “So for your information,” she said, “I’m at the leg-crossing stage, obviously…I can hold it a while longer, but not without help. Those pelvic muscles are starting to get a little tired.” She took a drink from her Nalgene water bottle, and then held her arms straight up above her head, as if to have her shirt taken off. Something in the gesture was incredibly sensual. “Would you like to see me with my shirt off?” she asked. “Of course,” he said, and moved to help, but she shook her head. “Pay the price first,” she said. “Your shirt for mine.” He pulled his off immediately. “Now mine. But remember, no touching.” He did so. She brought her bare arms down and folded her hands to press against her crotch. This had the useful effect of pushing up her breasts. “You like these, don’t you,” she said softly. “Yes.” “You want to touch them. Kiss them.” “Yes.” “Not yet. Do you want me to take my pants off?” “Yes, please…” “Pay the price again. Pants and boxers. Your nakedness for my jeans.” He kicked off his shoes, shucked off his socks, and stripped. “Sit down on the bed.” She uncrossed her legs—and winced, and then ditched her sandals. She’d never re-buttoned the top of her jeans. She unzipped them slowly now, folding back the flaps to reveal more and more of her green panties, and finally peeled the waistband off her hips entirely and pushed the denim to the floor. She stepped out of them—how did she make even that look seductive?—and leaned close. She held her hands pressed against her crotch, again forcing her boobs together, which combined with gravity to create a vast valley in her chest. “Do you like what you see?” she whispered. “Yes.” “What do you like most? The boobs? Or my hands on my crotch?” He swallowed. “That’s really hard.” “Just to let you know, I really do need to keep holding on down there,” she said. “I never have to hold myself like that. You know that. But I really need to go that bad.” She smiled. “Does that help you decide?” “Yeah…” Parker was shivering with arousal now. His cock was iron-hard, and the tip was drooling cum. Meagan took one hand away from her groin to trace a knuckle down Parker’s cheek and neck, and a finger down his chest to his belly, and then to his hard-on. She caressed his cock with just that one finger. “Do you need to let go of something, too?” His teeth were starting to chatter. He couldn’t answer. But that was enough of an answer itself. “Would my hand help with that, too?” He managed to nod. “Or my boobs?” A rather more vigorous nod. “Or would you like to fuck me?” Frantic nodding. She drew back. She slid one hand under the waistband of her panties to hold herself. “Take these off me,” she commanded, “but don’t touch anything except my legs. Not my butt, not my crotch.” With some difficulty, because basic motor skills were slipping, he managed to pull them down to her thighs. As soon as the fabric left her crotch, however, she jerked and gasped and squeezed her legs together over her hand. For a long moment she got a highly focused look on her face. Then she relaxed slightly. “That was close,” she said. “The second those came off me, I needed to go ten times worse. I don’t think I can hold it much longer.” She caressed his cheek. “You like the words, don’t you? When I tell you how badly I need to go?” He nodded again. “I think I can hold on another few minutes. Not very much longer than that, though. I am nearly leaking. My hand’s already wet, though. You know why?” He could only look pleadingly at her. “I’m so wet for you. I love how hard I’ve made you. I love how desperate I’ve made you. You know what I love most about your fetish? The fact that I can control you so dang easily just by holding it. All I have to do is be whisper in your ear ‘I’m bursting’ and you get hard. “So yeah. I am dripping wet for you. Do you want to come in me?” He nodded so fiercely it looked like he was head-banging, and she chuckled low in her throat. “Get on the edge of the bed.” As he scooted forward, she turned around so her back was to him. She bent into a crouch, and began what he could only call a pee-dance lap dance. She squirmed, she writhed, obviously fighting for every second now. But what she did, as she squirmed, was brush her butt against his thighs, his chest and belly, and—very rarely against his cock. Somehow she always managed to miss that. He finally found his voice. “Please, please, can I fuck you?” She stopped dancing—well, controlled it, and looked over her shoulder. “No, you can’t,” she whispered. “I know I’m not allowed to touch myself,” he said, “but please, can you touch me? I need… I need to…” “I know what you need,” she purred. “And you need it just as bad as I need to piss. Not yet. For either of us. I think I’m done touching your cock tonight.” “Can I touch you?” She settled herself on his left leg, hands still wedged in between her legs. “You can touch my shoulders,” she said, “and my back. But not my breasts. Not my butt. Not my crotch.” “Can I kiss you?” “You may.” After just a few moments of making out, she whispered in his ear, “Guess what?” “What?” “You’re not coming tonight.” He jerked as if she’d hit him. “Oh, don’t worry, we’ll get you there,” she whispered again. “But not tonight.” She stood up. “I’m going to go pee,” she said, “because I am about to explode. Stay on the bed and do not touch yourself. If you do you’ll probably blow your load in a heartbeat and that would be a real waste. If you’re limp by the time I get back you’ll be in serious trouble. If you’re starting to get soft ‘cause I’m not in sight, just remember what it is I’m doing in the bathroom. In fact, I’m going to leave both doors open. I’ll bet you’ll be able to hear me from here.” Still clutching her crotch with one hand, she went over to her closet, where a few things were still hanging, and pulled out something he’d never seen before: a bathrobe. Maybe a kimono, he wasn’t sure, but it was clearly designed for being looked at rather than keeping the wearer warm: it was thin, and short—only thigh-length. She put it on one arm at a time, keeping the other hand pressed between her legs. She couldn’t tie the belt with only one hand, however, so instead she just held it closed—that other hand still crushed between her thighs—as she stepped out into the hall, bent almost double. Anyone looking at her would probably get quite a good idea of what she looked like naked, because her boobs were nearly falling out and it was easy enough to see her crotch. Aware that there were still people in the dorm, Parker scooted back onto the bed so Meagan’s closet hid most of him. As soon as this was done, he heard the bathroom door swing open and heard Meagan flip down the doorstop. He imagined her using her toe, maybe leaning on the door with her head as she tried to manage the simple task while holding on for dear life. He heard a stall door slam back on its hinges. And a moment later, he heard an absolute thunderous piss. And over it, just barely audible, a choked-back moan. She peed fast, he’d noticed, letting it all out in a torrent, but tonight it still took a while. And he was not going to have any trouble staying hard. After the gusher stopped, he couldn’t hear anything for a few minutes. Then, finally, a faint sound of paper rolling, followed by a flush. She washed her hands, closed the bathroom door behind her, and came back into the room. She was wearing her kimono properly this time, belted at the waist; it didn’t do much to hide her, though, for it fell open very wide at the chest and if she turned too fast, the thin fabric billowed out and her boob was totally visible from the right angle. She closed the dorm door and came over to the bed. She grabbed her Nalgene and took two long drinks. Then she knelt down, straddling him, and the kimono fabric pulled up and apart and it was entirely obvious she wasn’t wearing anything underneath—which he’d already known, of course, but it was still thrilling. “I’m shaking,” she said, and he could feel it in her thighs, bracketing his own. “Better?” “Oh yeah. I basically came while I was peeing, I think. Or at least it felt like I came.” “But I can’t come?” “No. Because this is how I get off, my dear sweet hedgehog: controlling my lover. I think you can probably figure out why, if there’s any blood left in your brain.” “Not a lot,” Parker said, “but yeah, I think I get it.” “So what we’re going to do now,” Meagan said, “is bring you back down without getting you off. It’s gonna take a little while.” She shrugged out of the kimono, and its silk fell across his knees behind her. “Getting naked again is gonna help?” Parker asked skeptically. “Yes, actually, because we’re not going to do anything with it and your body will get bored. Get on the edge of the bed again.” He was skeptical that her nakedness would ever bore him, but moved back to where she’d given him that dance. She knelt behind him, clasping his hips with her thighs, pressing her breasts to his bare back, and cuddled him, gently stroking his cheek. She held him still like that. At first the delight of having her naked behind him kept him pretty hard, but gradually his cock did shrink a little, because she wasn’t moving or stroking or dancing or holding (either him or her pee). Eventually she had him sit on the floor (on a pillow) and gave him a shoulder rub, occasionally taking swigs from her bottle. He couldn’t say he was totally relaxed, but he wasn’t rock-hard rampant any more. “I’m gonna test you out,” Meagan said, and cradled his mostly-limp cock in her hand. Instantly he hardened again. “Still pretty sensitive, huh?” “Yeah.” “It’ll take a little longer, then.” They didn’t say anything for a long time. She massaged his shoulders, his neck, his scalp, and gradually he relaxed. “How are you feeling, beautiful?” Meagan asked. “That was intense,” Parker said. “Like, the most exciting thing that’s ever happened to me.” “Better than your birthday?” “Yeah. Definitely. And I didn’t even come!” “No, you did not. So you learned something today, huh? You can have a great moment like that and not blow your load. I wasn’t planning on coming either. It just… slipped out.” “I kinda wish mine had… I can’t believe you did all that to me and I didn’t just spontaneously explode!” “Don’t worry. A lot of guys can’t come without some touch. I was hoping you were one of them, and it sure seems like you are. And don’t worry about this, either: you will come like a rocket again. Just not tonight.” “Tomorrow?” “You’ll come when I want you to come.” “It’ll have to be tomorrow. We’re leaving tomorrow.” And suddenly the sadness of that hit him. “Shh. We’re doing a lot of things tomorrow,” she said. “It’ll be a good day. You’ll see.” She ran her fingers through his hair again. “Are you all right with me running this show? A lot of guys have some problems with being out of control like this.” “Not a problem. Never been a problem. I’ve always been in your hands, Meagan,” he said. “I love you.” She stopped stroking his hair, took his face between her palms, and kissed him. Then she said, “I know.” “You do?” “You nearly told me on the beach in Savannah. I heard you. I didn’t say anything then because, well, young love, and we were still pretty new together. Actually, we still are, but we’ve had our first seriously big fight and survived. We talked about a lot of heavy stuff and we’re making up, and that’s pretty huge. I can’t promise we’ll do great at long-distance. I’ve never done that before. But we’re going to try. Because I think I’m falling for you too, Parker. Not sure how that happened.” “You’ve never been in love?” “Two or three times. But I thought I’d learned better.” “Maybe this time it’ll be different.” “It already is, beautiful boy. That’s why we’re in this bed together right now.” She yawned. “Speaking of bed… I am wiped. That holding takes it out of me, you know?” “It’s still only 9:15.” “Early to bed, early to rise. We’ll get up and have a good long day. Besides, I have to drive, so I want plenty of sleep.” He got dressed, used the bathroom, brushed his teeth, came back to bed, stripped off again (except his boxers), and fell into her arms. It was only 9:30 when they turned the lights out. “There’s really only one thing that worries me about tomorrow,” Meagan murmured into his shoulder, as she spooned him again. “Hmm?” “I’m worried you’re gonna have a wet dream and all my careful prep work will be for nothing.” “Well, I’ll try not to.” “You better. I know exactly where and when I want you to come, and it’s not on my sheets at 4am.” He shivered a little. “Sleep well, lover,” she said through a yawn. ~~~ He woke up from an intensely erotic dream and found he was hard again. He got out of bed, walked around the room a few minutes to let the blood drain out, and went to the bathroom. When he came back into the room, Meagan made an adorable questioning noise as she felt for him in the bed. He crawled back in beside her. “Just got up to pee,” he said. “Lucky you,” she murmured, and then passed out again without explanation. ~~~ When he woke up the second time, he was hard once more… but that was because Meagan was giving him a blow job. When she realized he was awake, she stopped, wiped her mouth, and grinned at him. “Good morning, lover,” she said. “Don’t stop,” he croaked. “Oh, I can’t wrap up our fun so soon!” she said cheerfully. “I have plans.” “How on earth are you this awake so early…?” Parker mumbled, fumbling for his watch: 5:20. “Well, we did get to bed early, too,” Meagan said. “That’s part of it. But the other part is my plan for today.” “Which is…?” “I am not going to pee today until you come, and I gotta go. So I woke you up.” “Next time, all you need to do to wake me up is say that.” She grinned even more broadly. “Thought that would get your attention.” “I think I’m pretty ready,” Parker said, “especially after last night.” “Oh, you’re not gonna come just yet,” Meagan said, playfully powerful. “Then why wake me up?” “Because the fun is in how it affects you, silly. I’m probably not going to do this on my own, you know. But I love love love doing it with you because I love having my hand on your on switch.” “You mentioned, last night.” “Mmhm. So if I’m gonna be squirming all over this room for the next hour or so, I definitely want my audience. And I don’t think you’d want to miss it, would you?” “Definitely not.” She stood up and stretched. “Mmmmmmmm. This feels delicious. I really do wanna pee right now. Not gonna, though. I know exactly when I get to pee.” “When?” “Spoilers, buddy.” She patted her bladder. “Definitely full. If I were waking up alone, I’d go to the bathroom right now. If I were home alone, I wouldn’t even stop to put on clothes. If I were at camp, though… I’d have to get up, get some clothes on, get my sandals on, and walk over to the bathrooms. There have been some mornings when that walk was hard, hard, hard.” “Do you ever pee outside at camp?” “Mmm, not really? Maybe once on a Saturday after the kids went home? We’re generally close to the bathrooms. Sometimes we’re in the middle of something and it takes a little longer, but that’s generally not a problem for me. I’m good at holding.” “And how.” She bounced on her toes, bounced around, then looked at the floor of the dorm with a measuring eye and did a cartwheel. “Oof,” she said as she came back up from that. “That was a little tricky.” “I could watch this all day,” Parker said. “You are seriously full of beans.” “Full of pee and not nearly full enough of you,” Meagan said. “We could change that.” She smiled. “Not unless I give the word. Part of this is about denying myself, you know. It’s all about the control. The trust. That’s probably why you’re so good at this game. You trust me. And you listen. Last time I tried this, the guy would not stick to his part. I had to pry his hands off me or off his dick half a dozen times.” Parker’s face scrunched up at the thought of Meagan playing this game with someone else. She noticed and jumped back on the bed next to him, kissing him passionately. “Stay with me, hedgehog. We’re here, right now. I’m with you. You know I want you.” “Thank you,” he said. “That helped.” “You know what else will help?” “Hmm?” “Wanna feel how full I am?” “Yes please.” She took his hand in hers and pulled it to that place between crotch and belly. She wasn’t bulging out, but her muscles were definitely taut. “Just for you. All for you.” “That definitely helps.” She jumped up again, wincing only slightly as her feet hit the floor. She pranced around for a few minutes. “This is seriously fun,” she said. “Yeah?” “Yeah. I love driving you crazy for me.” She struck a “desperate” pose, hands placed on her crotch, breasts pushed together by her arms, bent slightly forward and her butt slightly out. Then she spun in a circle. Her hair went wild and she paused a moment to comb it out with her fingers. Somehow that simple act—admittedly with her naked and obviously slightly desperate—was intensely attractive, even more than the pose. Meagan fidgeted for a few more minutes, then stopped her prancing and looked around the room. “Hmmm. Where would I pee in here?” “Trash can.” “Been there, done that. Out the window, maybe?” She backed up and pointed her butt to the window (the blinds were closed). “Really? Anybody might see you.” “At 5 in the morning on a nearly-empty campus? Doubt it.” Her eyes lit up. “I like it. You could be in front of me. I could blow you or you could be in between my boobs… Do you want to do that?” A thrill ran through him. “Um, at this rate I just can’t wait to fuck you somehow. And watch you pee. Yeah. I could do that.” “You look like you’re nearly ready, yeah,” Meagan said with a grin. She straightened up. “But we’re not going to.” “You really like yanking my chain, don’t you.” “Yup, that’s the idea. Besides, I’ll get us where we want to go.” “I hope so.” Meagan bounced on her toes again. “Want to know how bad I need to go?” “Duh!” “If I were driving somewhere, I’d start thinking about pulling over anywhere I could see some cover.” “Really? Already?” “Remember how much water I drank last night, after I peed?” “Mmmm…” “Also it’s morning and I always need to pee as soon as I wake up, and also also, I’m naked and that’s making me go even more.” Her eyes flashed to her closet. She ran lightly over and pulled out a big thick bath towel. “I could just fold this up and pee on this,” she said. “Pretty absorbent. I could crouch down, you could jack off onto me… or I could just stand up and let it go down my legs…” She gave him an appraising look. “Come here, Parker,” she commanded. When he came over, she gave his cock a light stroke—not that it needed much help to stay stiff—and then told him, “Lay down on the towel.” He did, staring up at her, wondering what was about to happen. She stood over him, one leg on either side of him, just touching his hips. “Do you want me to fuck you right here on the floor?” “Please. The floor, the bed—anywhere.” She crouched down in a squat, straddling him. “Even if I pissed all over you? I can’t hold it much longer, you know. I might leak during sex.” “Yes. Please.” She bent low and kissed him. She took his cock in her hand, steered it between her legs, touched the tip to her inner lips… then paused, went rigid, hands clenched—and then let her breath out slowly. “Okay. Now I’m really on the clock,” she said. She stood up carefully, backed up against the side of Dacy’s now-empty closet, and leaned against it. She spread her legs slightly and he wondered if she was about to forget about the puddle and just pee right there. But instead her fingers went to work. Her eyes went half-lidded. He watched, fascinated. “Watch me, Parker,” she said. “Remember this. This is me getting wet for you. Soon it’ll be your turn.” She paused fingering herself to tuck one thigh up a little closer. “Whew. Getting harder to hold. Remember this. I need to go so bad. For you. Remember this all summer long.” “Yes, ma’am,” he said, heart racing. “Come here, lover.” He got up off the bed, stepped to her side. “Do you want to touch me?” “Yes. Yes please.” “Do you want me to touch you?” “Oh yes.” “I’ll give you one of them. Caress me, lover. Keep it above my waist—no, above my belly button. And keep it gentle.” “Can I touch your breasts?” “Yes.” He kissed her, he stroked her, he fondled her breasts until her nipples went hard as his cock, he made out with her neck and her mouth and her freckles. All the while her eyes were mostly closed, her fingers busy down below. Her breath was coming fast. “’Kay, I think I’m ready,” Meagan said. “For what?” “For getting you in me and getting the pee out of me, in that order. Grab your towel and the condoms and the lube.” “Where are we going?” “A place you’ve probably dreamed about all your life.” She gingerly took her hands away from her crotch, picked up her towel, and wrapped it around her, then grabbed her bag of shower gear. He did the same with his towel, trying to hide the lube and condoms in the folds. She opened the door and looked out into the hall: no one in sight. “Wait here,” she said, and went over to the girls’ bathroom. She stepped inside. A few seconds later she poked her head back out and beckoned him over. He closed the door behind him, carefully checking to make sure it didn’t lock behind them. That was a mistake you didn’t make twice. When he stepped into the girls’ room, Meagan had her legs crossed. “I really wish I hadn’t looked at the toilets,” she whispered. He looked around. “Welcome to forbidden ground,” Meagan intoned. “C’mon, we’re in here.” The girls’ showers were arranged individually, with two curtains: one outer, one inner. Meagan drew him into one, closed the outer curtain, and dropped her towel on the little bench in the outer part. “If anyone comes in,” she whispered, “I’m turning the shower on, ready or not. ‘Kay?” “Got it.” She wriggled a little, then crouched down and sat on her heel. “God, gotta go. Really gotta go. Lube?” He handed her the bottle. She gave him a few big drops on the tip of his fierce hard-on and rubbed it around with her fingers. He groaned a little. She grinned. “Condom next.” He held it out. She expertly tore the package open and unrolled it onto him, full length, tip pinched between her fingers. She then gave him several more squirts of lube and rubbed his length, very slowly. He moaned again. “That’s a sound I like to hear,” she whispered. “But don’t come too fast, hon.” “I dunno, I need it so bad… I want you so bad…” “I know. I know just how much you want me. But you need to look and not touch for another minute,” she said. She stood up and posed against the inner wall of the shower, one hand up the wall, one hand at her crotch, fingering herself. “You know how hard it is for me to hold on right now?” she whispered. He shivered. “I’m really bursting.” Shiver. “As bad as last night?” he asked. “No. And not as bad as your birthday night, either. I did that deliberately, though. C’mon in, lover.” He stepped to her side. “I’m bursting,” she said in his ear, “but I’m pretty sure I can still fit you in me. Do you wanna fuck me?” “So bad.” “Do you wanna come in me?” “Yes. Yes, please.” She waited a long moment, then turned to face the wall. She looked over her shoulder and said, “You may. I want you in me. And you can touch me wherever you want from now on. Except my bladder.” As usual he fumbled to find the right place. She reached between her legs and steered him to the proper spot. But he had a hard time getting into her. “It’s because I’m holding on so tight,” she whispered. “Okay, I’m gonna relax a bit… and hope I don’t leak…” She eased up a bit, he pushed a little harder, the lube did its job, and he was in. “Let me shift a bit, bad angle…” And then: “Oh god,” Meagan moaned. “That feels amazing. Be gentle, but that feels absolutely incredible. You can go a little deeper. A little more. And a tiny bit harder. Mmmm, yes, yes. Oh yes. Come in me, come in me, fill me up even more. Mmmmmm…” “You’re so tight,” Parker whispered, “it’s amazing, even through the condom...” She turned her head to say to him over her shoulder, “Yes, lover, yes, that’s just right. You’re fucking me and it feels so good. Every time you thrust I nearly leak, I need to go so bad, but it feels amazing, don’t you dare stop. Come in me, come on, come on. Remember that I nearly burst last night teasing you? Remember that you nearly burst when I gave you that lap dance? Remember that I haven’t peed since fuckin’ yesterday?” He kept thrusting. It didn’t feel quite right, the condom never did, but he was so desperate to come he didn’t care, couldn’t care, just kept pushing on through it. And the way she was squeezing really was amazing. “Aw fuck I gotta go, I gotta go. You feel great, Parker, you feel so great...” She braced herself on one hand and sent her other one diving for her clit. “Come on. Come on. Come in me.” And then, suddenly, she was coming. He could feel the contractions ripple through her whole body, including her inner muscles. “Ah, ah, I’m coming. Yes. Yesssssss. Aw, fuck, keep going, keep going, you’re amazing. Yes, come, come, my love, come in me.” He could feel it welling up in him, and then… “I got you, love, I got you, I got you, I gotta go, I got you…” Boom “It’s okay, no one can hear you, keep going,” Megan said. “Meagan, I’m on fire, I’m on fire...” “Yes. Yes. I got you. Yes.” Exhausted, drained, weak at the knees, he had to hang on to her hips to keep himself upright. “No problem,” she said. “No problem. Hold on. Yes.” He drew back… and she squeezed him right out of her. “Sorry!” she said. “Well, not that sorry, ‘cause I’m peeing right now. Watch...” She let go. Her stream drummed on the tiles of the shower, thundered, hissed and steamed and roared out of her. She moaned again. He could feel the spray on his legs, on his feet; Meagan’s legs were clearly getting soaked. He was still clinging to her and he could feel the tension pour out of her along with the piss. It was not long—it never was, with her—but for a few moments it felt like a warm waterfall. She straightened up, ran her hands up her body to her breasts and then up into a sultry stretch. “Aw yeah,” she said. He leaned against the shower wall. “I can barely stand up,” he said. “Me too. That’s how you know you did it right, huh?” They stood, panting, for another long minute. “Shower?” Meagan said. “I’m glad I remembered the soap.” They hadn’t showered together before. It was fun, although Parker was still seeing spots and couldn’t let go of the wall or he’d fall over. Meagan washed him, and most of herself, but let him do her breasts and shoulders. Then they just stood under the warm shower and made out for a little while. Finally they toweled off and, leaning against each other, made their way back to the room, where they promptly fell over onto the bed. “How you feelin’, love?” Meagan asked. “God, that was the best I have ever had. Best. Ever.” “I’m trying to think of something that was better for me, too… Top Three, at least, but I think that was maybe the Greatest of All Time for me, too.” “…Do you think anyone heard us?” “Dunno. We kinda forgot to be quiet at the end there, didn’t we? But I don’t think anyone’s going to complain. And if they do… well, they can deal with it. It’s our last time for a while. We had to make it good.” “So good.” “I didn’t boss you around this much this morning, I wasn’t quite in the same mood. But how was that?” “Just fine. And how was the holding?” “Oh, I could have held on even longer if I had to, it’s just it’s hard to hit that window of totally desperate but not so much you won’t be able to fit.” “God, you’re awesome.” “Thank you.” “Seriously. I am in awe of your muscles.” She cuddled him. “I’m glad you liked it. I love being able to turn you on so much. It matches my own thing just about perfectly.” “You know, Meagan?” “Hmm?” “‘This could be the start of a beautiful friendship.’” “‘Start’? I’m insulted. I just fucked you so hard you couldn’t stand, and you say that’s the start of a friendship?” She took any sting out of her words with a kiss. “It’s a quote! From Casablanca!” “Oh, haven’t seen that yet. But anyway, it’s still wrong. What this is, is the end of the beginning.” She grinned at him, sly, sexy. “We’re just getting warmed up.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ This ends Parker’s story… and begins the story of Parker and Meagan, together. Their adventures will continue in 2018, under a new title. Thank you for reading!
  6. "Who there is?" Ok, just playing with the lame song, sorry, but this post is really about the father (I'll call him George) of my older son, who's now seventeen. A couple weekends ago, George, who I met way back in 1996 when we worked for the same grocery store, came to visit to see about his son for the first time in about ten years. He had been writing him, and talking to him on the phone for about a year before, but prior to that, no contact at all for about ten years. I was surprised that our son was so accepting of George, and even was pleased to find how much he had in common with him, from looks, to mannerisms, to clothing preferences, to interests and hobbies. They had a great time together. I also had a great time with George, we burned a few together, and talked about old times and updated each other about ourselves, and people we still kept in contact with from back in the day. Shocking to find out how people changed, George and myself included. George has been texting me regularly since he left. He wants to rekindle something with me besides just friendship. I'm not sure if he means our old friends-with-benefits arrangement from our teen years, or taking a stab at a relationship, which we've never done. Either way, I'm not sure how I feel about it. When I was a teenager, I would've loved to have a relationship with George, but he wouldn't leave his girlfriend. Nowadays, I don't want a relationship at all, not with George or anyone else. The friends with benefits thing...I don't know about that, either. Sex isn't a huge part of my life, I have some hangups about it, so I don't have it often, and I'm alive and well and happy. I warned him that I'm a pee freak, but it didn't turn him off, he just replied that he didn't want it in his face...cool. So he's down to explore, could be interesting. And, I'd be lying if I said it wouldn't be interesting to play with someone I'd last played with 18 years ago. I have a lot of respect and love for George. Not the romantic kind, but a deep friendship kind; he gave me one of the coolest kids in the world :) But, I can't help but think it would be a little ratchety if I got involved with him again, my baby daddy; our son is almost 18! It would be like a bad movie. Hell, it's already got elements of a bad movie; father decides to wake up and get involved with his surviving kids after learning one has died, visits his oldest and they're so alike it's like he's seeing himself at 17, even being on the best terms with the baby mamma. Anyway, that's what's going on in my offline world, well not the only thing of course, just the one that I felt like I had to share. Open to any comments, advice, similar stories...
  7. we've been together about 5 years or so, I've never broached the issue in the past or any other involving my sexuality and kinks simply because I'm afraid of the reaction it may receive. I genuinely don't know how to broach the issue, I see my fettish and sexuality as deeply personal and don't relish the idea of opening myself up like that. But it's came to a point where I feel I'm lying to her and depriving her of getting to know the real me from deep within. Please help me. Any advice at all would be greatly appreciated.
  8. if you are dating someone and are involved sexually are you ok with them masturbating example being: you are both together in the same room or easily available to each other but choosing to play with yourself instead of having sex with your partner. Ive come across many guys and girls that think masturbating while with someone is a bad thing
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