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Decided to start posting some of the commissions I've done in the past (PM me if you'd like to order anything for yourself!)

Here's the first. This contains wetting, messing and general toilet use for both men and women as well as some sexual content.
 

 

"For Christ's sake, Mark, keep your hands on the wheel, at least".

 

Mark knew that tone. Reluctantly, he forced himself to release the iron grip on his cock and put his left hand back on the steering wheel. There was no arguing with Rachel when she was in this kind of mood. For a moment he thought he might wet himself when he let go, but his bladder was just about still holding out. He knew that if he even so much as leaked it would show right up on the denim, and then his fiancée's teasing would be relentless.

 

Back in the car park, Rachel had told him that she needed to piss, too, but as ever she was as cool as a cucumber about it. It wasn't the first time Mark had found himself envious of Rachel's capacity. For every bottle he managed before he had to rush off to the bathroom, Rachel could comfortably drink two. And she could always hold it for so long, too. Mark was the polar opposite: once he felt the urge to pee come on, he had a matter of minutes to get to the toilet before he started simply losing control.

 

They'd spent most of the afternoon at a shopping centre a few miles from home, stopping for lunch in the upstairs food court. Rachel had ordered a cup of Pepsi for each of them from Subway. Knowing how quickly fizzy drinks went through her boyfriend, she'd suggested that he use the bathroom before they left, and he'd bullheadedly refused. Now, with their newly-bought house still five minutes away, he was seriously regretting that decision.

 

"I don't think I can hold it until we get home, babe," he whined, resisting the urge to grab his penis again as they turned off a roundabout. And he meant it, too. His bladder felt near enough ready to burst. Mark couldn't help it- in his head he was already visualising himself having an accident. He could already feel the burning shame, see the disappointment in Rachel's pretty brown eyes. "If you don't let me hold myself, I think I'm gonna have an accident". He knew that his words would do no good; Rachel wasn't a stickler for the rules, not really, but she wasn't about to relent and sit idly by while her boyfriend tried to drive them through Brighton with just one hand.

 

"Tough," she chided, "both hands on the wheel. You're a big boy now, you should be able to get home without doing a wee-wee in your undies". Mark's cheeks flushed with embarrassment- she knew that teasing him with childish language always touched a nerve. It made him feel small, partly because he knew she was right. He was a big boy, twenty-six and counting. And he really should be able to get home without urinating in his clothes. It had only been ten minutes since he'd even realised he needed to go, to make matters worse. Rachel knew him well.

 

The truth was that Mark had been caught in this situation more times than he could count, and Rachel knew all about his little problem. She'd found out early in the relationship- it was inevitable, really, given how many close calls and sometimes even wettings he had. The very first time she'd seen him in soaked jeans, she'd been too stunned to say anything. After that she got used to his tiny little capacity, something none of his other girlfriends had ever been able to look past. She wouldn't act angry or disgusted when he came home and admitted he'd wet the car seat on the drive, which happened a few times a year. She seemed to even enjoy teasing him about it, in a way. But that didn't make things easier on days like today, when he was genuinely on the verge of another accident. 

 

By the time they pulled up outside of the house, Mark knew he was quickly running out of time to get inside and get to the loo. He even had to be careful as he climbed out of the car. He instinctively squeezed his dick through his jeans, glanced at Rachel nervously and sighed with relief when she nodded her approval. She usually didn't even mind him holding himself like a baby, so long as they were in private and he wasn't driving. 

 

With the front door and car keys being on the same ring, it fell to Mark to hobble to the former and get it open. With only one hand, which was shaking like a leaf from the desperation, that was easier said than done. To him, needing to pee was like a hose being turned on, and only ten minutes given until the pressure inside grew big enough to just explode.

 

Their ground floor bathroom wasn't big, and it was situated all the way at the back of the house, but Mark found it infinitely preferable to the prospect of walking up the stairs like this. 

 

"Hurry, then," Rachel demanded, "I still need a piss and I'm gonna sit down first if you don't get a move on".

 

Mark had forgotten she needed the toilet too, but her words spurred him into action and he picked up the pace as much as he dared. If his girlfriend got on the loo before him, he would most certainly, undoubtedly wet his pants.

 

The sight of the toilet did the trick for Mark. With four fingers fumbling on his fly, he felt a hot spurt leak from the tip of his cock just feet away from salvation. On the second attempt he got the zip down, reached in and awkwardly felt around for his member. Getting it out of his boxer shorts was far harder than it needed to be, and he was already pissing in full flow when he finally extracted the thing and pointed it in the vague direction of the toilet. Piss splashed the seat and the lid before settling into a pleasant hissing sound that poured satisfyingly into the water. 

 

Mark closed his eyes, tilted his head back and let out a long sigh of relief. He was interrupted by Rachel's hands around his crotch. 

 

"Mark, you didn't make it again," she tutted, feeling the dark wet spot from where he'd leaked so much. It was a huge wet patch, he had to give her that, but he thought she was being harsh on him. She took his cock in her little hand and held it for him, aiming with the expertise of someone who'd done it for years.

 

"Now hurry the fuck up, I really want a piss," she reminded him. 

 

Mark had forgotten all about her own need again. "Right, sorry". He pushed a little and felt the power of the stream increase, wanting to speed up the process so that Rachel could get on the toilet. Once, with both of them more than a little bit drunk, she had wet her halloween costume because he was 'taking too long to have a shit', in her words. She had never let him forget it and he didn't want to be the cause of anything similar happening again.

 

Mark finished peeing and moved away from the toilet, all the while thinking about how much easier it would be if Rachel wasn't so strict on him using the sink as a urinal. She'd always encourage it if they were in someone else's bathroom, like at a party, because it got them out quicker. But here at home she forbade him from emptying his bladder in the sink unless she was drunk, or they were both desperate and she needed to get on the toilet right away.

 

Before he'd even tucked his cock away, Rachel was pulling down her jeans and underwear. Unlike him, she had managed to keep both articles bone dry. She almost always did. Mark only managed to snatch a glimpse of her pussy and perfectly-trimmed bush before she was seated, and almost right away his fiancée started to piss a river into the bowl below. 

 

"You see, Mark, this is how you make it to the bathroom on time," she said in that condescending voice she used to scold him with whenever he leaked, "none of this grabbing your crotch bullshit. Just hold it in, get to the toilet and release".

 

Mark looked down on the bathroom floor, feeling ashamed of himself. He didn't know why his petite, short girlfriend had so much more bladder control than he did, and it bothered him, but it didn't seem to something he could fix. The problem was bad enough that he would leak before getting to the toilet five or six times a week, have a full accident a few times a month and wet the bed just as often, especially if he'd had anything to drink. 

 

"Well, hang on," he asked spitefully as she tore off some tissue paper, "what about your accidents?"

 

Rachel scoffed. "Those aren't accidents," she insisted. Her usual defence. 

 

"Aren't they?" Mark pressed, "let's think about that for a second, shall we?"

 

—————————————————————————————

 

Not even two weeks before Mark's close call on the way back from the shopping centre, Rachel had had one of those little occasional incidents which Mark called an accident and she called a choice. It was a Saturday afternoon, so both were at home, a little hungover and doing their best to enjoy a slightly overcast start to the weekend. Mark had the football on; Rachel was dusting, if only because she knew nobody else would do it if she wouldn't.

 

She refrained from mentioning to Mark that she really had to poop. He never understood why she didn't just go to the bathroom- it was only thirty seconds away. 

 

In truth, she'd had to go for most of the day. The opportunity simply hadn't come up yet. They'd woken up around eight, and she'd started feeling the urge while they were fucking, like they did most Saturday mornings. She hadn't mentioned it then because she didn't want to interrupt the sex. Then Mark had been on the toilet while she showered, and she'd forgotten she had to go for a while. The need had returned while she was making breakfast, but there'd been no time to use the bathroom when she still had to get the washing in the machine, sort out last night's dishes, take out the bins and sort through the old clothes that had been clogging up their room for the better part of a year. If Mark had helped more, she thought, I could've had a shit hours ago. 

 

On some level Rachel knew that he wasn't really to blame. Technically there was nothing stopping her from taking a bathroom break whenever she wanted. She just hated stopping what she was doing to use the toilet, especially when there were still chores to do. 

 

So her boyfriend was none the wiser, until she bent over to pick up a cushion and a fart accidentally slipped out, a mere two feet from his face. He recoiled, laughed and then switched into parent mode. "Christ, babe, just go to the toilet. You clearly need a shit".

 

Rachel wrinkled up her face. "Explain to me how someone who regularly pisses himself thinks he can lecture me about when I should go to the toilet". 

 

"That's not the same thing," Mark said, holding up his hands defensively, "I can't help that my bladder's fucked. You choose to put off going for a poo until it's too late. You put yourself in these positions". 

 

"Yes, because I'm an adult and I get to make my own decisions," snapped Rachel. She'd heard it all before. The backbone of his logic wasn't exactly wrong, either, and she knew it. She just hated being told what to do. Also, she wasn't crazy about the idea that Mark knew her intimately enough to know when she needed the loo just from the smell of her farts. "I'll go when I feel like I need to go, until then it's none of your business". 

 

The truth was that she already needed to go quite desperately, but she couldn't stop her chores now without letting Mark know that he'd been right, and she wouldn't give him the satisfaction. So Rachel kept dusting, halfway around her usual circuit of the room now. Her bowels felt fuller than ever, and she found herself needing to clench her cheeks together just to stop anything else from slipping out. 

 

It took all of her effort not to show any more visible signs of her desperation. Rachel did her best to keep focusing on the task at hand, and it was almost working, until-

 

Prrrrt

 

Another fart rumbled out of her, this one far louder and less conspicuous than the last. 

 

Mark raised an eyebrow. "What's that? You don't need a shit, babe?"

 

"Shut up".

 

"Aww, does Rachel need the toilet? Is Rachel gonna go poop in her pants?"

 

This time it was Rachel's turn to blush. "It's not that bad. I'm just a bit gassy. I can hold it until I'm done with this, easily". Internally, though, she wasn't so sure. It would be far from the first time that she messed herself after trying to wait too long. In the years that she'd been with Mark, he must have seen her soil herself at least a dozen times. Unlike him, her bladder control was strong and stable, save for a few drunken incidents that had been someone else's fault anyway. It was at the other end that she tended to have accidents, usually when she was too busy with something else to get to the toilet, or when she just couldn't quite hold it until the end of whatever movie or show she was watching. Frustratingly, Mark still didn't see why it was different from his wetting problem.

 

At last, Rachel felt herself begin to turtlehead. Something firm and thick emerged from her bumhole and reached out towards the fabric of her underwear. Fortunately, she'd just finished polishing off the last surface in the room. She set down her duster and spray on the table and headed out of the room, smirking in satisfaction that she'd proven Mark wrong again. 

 

She was right next to the toilet with a log sticking out of her arse when disaster struck. Through the window on the back door, it started to rain in the garden. Rachel swore out loud and rushed outside, knowing she had seconds to save the washing that was drying on the line. 

 

Every step was painful while she gathered up the clothes, leaving pegs scattered on the floor below. It didn't take long before she realised that she was shitting her pants. Rachel swore again, grabbing the last few sheets, feeling the thick, doughy mass fill her underwear and squish against her bum. She did everything to shut off the flow, but her exhausted muscles were done with holding. Her colon demanded to be empty. She resigned herself to a pair of shitty knickers and a bit of teasing, now just focused on getting the washing inside. 

 

Rachel locked the back door behind her and dumped the damp pile on the floor. She stepped over it, then was hit with another wave of desperation. More poo that she hadn't even known was still inside of her crawled out. The bulge in her jeans went from an orange to a mango. All that Rachel could do was stand there and let it happen, grateful at least for the relief she was finally getting. 

 

"Was it raining?" Came Mark's voice. She looked up and he was rounding the corner. "I heard you open the back-" 

 

He froze, taking in what had happened for a second. An evil grin spread across his face. "Wow, I guess you couldn't keep your back door closed, could you?"

 

Rachel huffed. "Shut up," she said again. 

 

"It looks like you were a bit wrong about being able to hold it in, babe". He took a few steps closer to her, reached behind and patted the massive bulge in the seat of her pants. He towered over her by ten inches; it made her feel tiny. "It looks like you had a really big accident". 

 

"I wasn't wrong," she protested, "I could have made it in plenty of time". That was an exaggeration- even without the washing incident it would have been a close call- but her boyfriend didn't need to know that. "I was just about to sit on the toilet and go when it started fucking pissing it down. If you'd helped me get the washing in I would have made it easy". That was also a lie. Rachel didn't care. She was just glad to have finally taken the dump she'd needed all morning, even if it was in her nice underwear. 

 

She broke away from the hug and marched towards the upstairs bathroom. That one had a shower, which she was going to need. On the way she stripped off her jeans and left them in the washing machine. 

 

"The rain didn't make you do that, honey," Mark pointed out, watching her go, staring at the brown-stained bulge that protruded from the back of her yellow and white knickers. 

 

"Then it was your fault," she called over her shoulder, "you or the rain, take your pick. I don't care who you blame, but it wasn't me".

 

There was no need to close the door behind her while she stood in the bath and lowered her underwear until they were around her ankles. It was easy to use the panties as a glove to dump the poo into the toilet, then wash herself clean with soap and hot water. 

 

Mark didn't get it. She could have gone to the toilet whenever she wanted. She could have made it. It wasn't her fault that she hated stopping what she was doing. And it wasn't the same as his problem, pissing himself indiscriminately whenever he needed to go. She thought about something that had happened the week before...

 

——————————————————————————————

 

"Right, keep watch for a second, I have to take a piss," Rachel slurred. 

 

Mark looked around nervously. "Here?" 

 

They were in the middle of the suburbs, only a few more minutes from their house. It was pitch-dark outside, with the only illumination coming from rows of streetlights that reflected off of windows or car wing mirrors. At 3AM, nobody else was around but the two of them. Their neighbourhood was mostly people with kids or guys who had to be up for work in the morning. They were the only living souls in the whole town, so it felt.

 

"Yes, Mark, right fucking here," she said haughtily, "unless you'd prefer I pissed myself?"

 

Rachel had been absolutely busting for a wee since they'd gotten off the train. She hadn't bothered going at the station, with home only a short walk away, but now it was clear that she'd need to rethink the plan. 

 

"Can't you hold it until we get home?"

 

"No".

 

Mark glanced around again. He'd heard of people getting arrested for indecent exposure and he didn't want his girlfriend to join the list. "Can you try and wait until we get somewhere a bit more private?" 

 

"No". They were right in the middle of a densely populated road, with houses and cars on either side. He wouldn't be surprised if someone could hear them through a bedroom window right now. 

 

"Please try," he pleaded, "we're almost home".

 

Clearly, Rachel was beyond reason. "Don't be such a pussy, Mark," she goaded, yanking her panties down to her ankles and squatting on the pavement with her skirt hitched up. She moaned in drunken relief as a stream started instantly, apparently not caring that it was splashing her boyfriend's shoes. "Fuck, that's so much better". 

 

"Hurry it up," he said, trying to see if anyone was looking through their curtains. Mark was drunk, too, but not enough to make him feel good about his girlfriend getting her snatch out a few streets away from where they lived.

 

"Done!" she announced eventually, standing straight again and pulling her pants back up. "Come on, you big baby, let's get you home". With an arm around his back, they walked the rest of the way. 

 

The warmth of the front hall was a welcome change from outside's bitter cold. Mark led his fiancée up the stairs. Suddenly he felt everything he'd drunk catching up with him. 

 

Wordlessly, they started undressing. Both had slept naked for as long as they'd known each other. Rachel left her clothes in a heap by the door, Mark's on the chair next to the make-up table. Rachel checked herself in the mirror and spun around, boobs sticking out, hoping to get some action before bed. She'd been horny most of the night, hence her little show of pissing in the street. Instead she saw Mark already in bed, face down on the pillow. 

 

"Mark," she sighed, "at least go for a piss before bed!"

 

But Mark was already passed out.

 

————————————————————————————————

 

The next time Rachel opened her eyes, the room was already bright and full of colour. Her nipples stood alert and pink in the morning's cold. On the left hand, three fingers were still sticky from where a horny, booze-fuelled wank had turned into a horny, booze-fuelled orgasm before she'd fallen asleep the night before. She had only vague memories of it, just that she had badly needed to fuck and been forced to turned to her own devices when Mark had passed out before he could- before he could...

 

That brought back another memory, of something she'd said before slipping between the sheets that night. Mark, at least go for a piss before bed. And he hadn't. She turned around to face him, still fast asleep and turned towards the window. Her right hand reached out to feel the sheet around his waist. Her suspicions were confirmed instantly: the fabric was soaking wet and already getting cold. 

 

Rachel was no stranger to Mark wetting the bed. Usually it happened when he was drunk, and it didn't take more than a beer to get Mark drunk. She'd grown used to it over time, and they had invested in a mattress protector, so she was never too worried when it happened now.

 

The first step was to determine exactly how bad the accident was. Rachel slid across the bed so that she was practically spooning her boyfriend. She reached over him and started probing, first the sheets on the other side of his butt, then near his knees. As expected, the puddle was gargantuan. She felt his cock and ran her fingers through his thick, manly bush. Both were dripping with pee, too. He'd clearly absolutely drenched himself, and all because he hadn't been to the loo before bed. 

 

Rachel tutted. She felt him stir and wake up. Her fingers on his cock must have aroused him in more ways than one, because it sprung to life, doubling in size in a matter of seconds. When it was rock hard, she wrapped her hand around it and squeezed. 

 

"Morning," she said, "how're you?"

 

It took him a few seconds to fully get up to speed. "I'm good," he mumbled, "what did I do to deserve this?"

 

She pumped his dick a few times to tease him, then let go and whispered in his ear. "You pissed the bed again. Now strip the sheets, I'm going for a poo".

 

With that, she left him stunned and hard in bed, smirking as she walked to the bathroom.

 

Unlike the downstairs toilet, a tiny shed of a room tucked right at the back of the house, upstairs they had a spacious ensuite that you barely had to move out of bed to reach. Rachel sat down and started to push. This was her routine the morning after getting drunk- she would climb out from under the duvet, usually after some good sex, and walk naked straight to the toilet to empty her bloated bowels.

 

She'd never admit it to anyone other than Mark, but she loved these morning dumps. It felt so good to sit down and push it all out of her, hear it pour from her body and splash into the water. She even loved stinking up the room. In the background she could hear Mark climbing down the stairs, opening the laundry machine and shutting it again, then returning to the first floor. Just as she was getting to the good part, her boyfriend walked back in, buck naked and embarrassed. 

 

"What's up?"

 

"I still need a piss," he admitted sheepishly.

 

Rachel sighed. Suddenly their roles from last night were reversed- now he was the one who had to go, and it was she trying to delay it. "Can it wait?" she asked. 

 

He squeezed his dick tight. It had mostly softened up again since her little tease back in bed. "No," he admitted. 

 

"Fine," she said, "you can just piss in the sink. I'm not gonna be done here for a few more minutes". With a log dangling out of her arse, Rachel was in no mood to give up her place on the toilet, and she didn't trust Mark to aim through her legs. 

 

Mark turned and unleashed a torrent into the sink, a relieved expression on his face. Though this was something she wouldn't even admit to him, Rachel quite liked watching him go, especially desperate like this. She just couldn't let her boyfriend make a habit of pissing in the sink, so she only allowed it when there weren't any other viable options, and she wanted to avoid a puddle on the floor. She knew how flimsy his bladder control could be. He finally finished up just as her last turd splashed noisily into the water below. 

 

Rather than wiping, Rachel decided to save the toilet paper and hop in the shower. She felt sweaty from last night and smelly from her dump, and her fingers were still tinged with dried juices. Within seconds she'd rinsed out her bum, and water tainted a light brown was gurgling down the drain.

 

"Care to join me?" she asked, letting the water run through her hair, down her back and over her chubby arse. 

 

"You don't have to ask twice," Mark said eagerly. He climbed in with her, standing close. 

 

"Of course, you need the shower more than me, seeing as you're covered in piss," she pointed out, splashing him playfully with hot water. 

 

"Big talk from a woman who just washed poo out of her crack with her bare hand," Mark retorted, flicking drops at her nose. 

 

She couldn't help laughing at that. "It's clean, okay?"

 

The teasing went on like that for a while, Rachel poking fun at him for wetting the bed, Mark grabbing her arse and laughing about times she'd wet herself. "You know," she said eventually, "I just realised something".

 

"What's that?"

 

"You didn't need to piss in the sink. If you waited another minutes you could've just gone in the shower". 

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