A couple get wet and wild.
As she walked towards Michael’s house, she repeated the mantra in her head: “I have to pee.” The thought made her smile, and it also made her pussy tingle. The moment she’d been waiting for, hoping for and planning for was coming – the moment when she’d make an erotic display of wetting her knickers for the man she loved. That moment was now as real, as imminent and as urgent as the gentle pressure that had been making itself felt between her legs for the past half hour.
It had been about five years since Allison had first realised that needing to pee made her feel sexy, in a way that most things – lingerie, sex toys, porn – did not. She had discovered that something about the pressure in her crotch made her feel fully alive. And that the sensuous moment of release could be literally orgasmic, if she focused properly and rode the sensations just right. Every detail, from the first hints of an urge to the lewd caress of tissue across her pussy afterwards, had become something to cherish. And it gave her an additional feeling of satisfaction to know that this was a delight her own body created for her, free of charge. What Allison relished between her thighs was something no woman needed to go shopping for.
Sometimes she liked to imagine that someone was watching. Watching her cross her legs as she tried to hold it in just a few minutes longer. Watching her nipples harden as she slipped her hands into the waistband of her knickers and prepared to yank them down and greet the water below with her own fresh waters. Watching her close her eyes and finger her clit while the warm rush hissed and dribbled and gushed, and flooded her private world with pleasure.
Since she’d been with Michael, her most persistent fantasy had been to do it for him. She had dreamed that she would eventually be indulged, that one day it would please him to watch her doing something that pleased her so much. She had waited over a year to suggest it. When she had finally done so, Michael’s enthusiastic response had been beyond her wildest dreams. Allison had been beside herself with horny anticipation when she saw his eyes light up with passionate fire instead of just kind indulgence.
And when she’d further elaborated, saying that one of her strongest fantasies was to actually wet herself in front of a man, Michael had looked like his eyes were about to pop out of his head.
“Oh my,” he’d said softly. “Would you?” His strong voice had practically trembled.
He’d even offered to provide the setting. And to be the one to clean up after.
“You don’t have to think about anything except how long you want to hold it and what position you want to do it in,” he’d told her with a smile, his hand practically clutching his cock as he spoke. What a special man he was, Allison had thought. Why hadn’t she brought this up months ago?
This momentous conversation had happened only yesterday. And yet their appointment for this evening had seemed unbelievably far away, given Allison’s level of excitement.
Now, her hand was on his gate. As she swung it open, she relished the thought of all the layers that stood snugly between her fountain and the outside world. Skirt. Tights. Cotton pants.
“I have to pee,” she said to herself for the umpteenth time, savouring the words. They were to become her greeting to him, as he opened his door for her.
“How are you, gorgeous?” he said after an eager kiss.
“I have to pee,” she replied, in a voice husky with promise.
Michael’s smile intensified. He extended his hand and led her to the space he’d prepared. It was a storage room. The tile floor was usually scattered with boxes and stray appliances, but Michael had cleared everything out. He had placed candles on the windowsill to give the normally stark room some mood lighting. It even looked like he’d mopped the tile floor, which Allison appreciated but also thought rather funny, under the circumstances.
The circumstances. She was reminded why she was here, and she felt her knees sink deliciously together and her hand float to her crotch.
“Do you want to take anything off?” Michael asked tenderly, as he watched her sway hypnotically.
There was, for some reason, a full-length mirror in this room, and Allison studied herself, hips swinging sensuously and hand pressed delicately against her feminine pulse. She took stock of her black ribbed turtleneck, her stiff beige miniskirt, her burgundy tights and her chic little boots.
“No,” she said. She wanted to feel herself wet through all of it, from her knickers on out. She wanted to feel the watery release spread through these layers from her innermost, intimate flesh. She wanted the flood to seep, spurt and finally rush out of her from an invisible source, so that Michael could enjoy the spectacle of her pissing freely, shaking with a kinky ecstasy, while she was still fully clothed. Another time she would piss in his presence through soft pants alone, then she would bare her pussy entirely and pee for him – maybe even on him –but tonight, this was the show she wanted to put on.
She couldn’t hold it much longer now, and she knew she didn’t need to. “I have to pee.”
She hadn’t said it aloud this time, but Michael responded as if she had. “Go ahead, my darling,” he breathed.
She felt a drop in her knickers. Then another. She wiggled her ass at this foretaste of the liquid feast to come.
“Go ahead, beautiful. Just release your sweet, wet pee right onto the floor,” Michael encouraged.
The drops turned to squirts. Each little squirt coincided with a soft “ooh” from her lips – as if the pleasure surprised her each time. She swayed on the balls of her feet, beginning to give in.
“Don’t be shy,” her lover continued. “Just let yourself go.”
Allison exploded into a warm wave of total relaxation, before Michael had finished his encouragement. Anything further that he might have said was drowned out by an endless, musical “ahhh” that sang forth from Allison as she was consumed by ecstasy.
So complete was her rapture that she had to struggle to keep her eyes from closing, to keep her vision focused on the voyeuristic bliss that transformed Michael’s face.
Allison could never have imagined so high a level of pleasure. She was raining, raining, raining on his floor, leaking and puddling before his gentle eyes. As her fountain stuttered toward empty, she realised that she wasn’t sure when the orgasm had started. All she knew was that it hadn’t yet ended.
When she had finally finished pissing and coming, she just stood there, shaking. A feverish smile hovered on her lips as Michael peeled her sopping clothes down and kissed every inch of her pee-streaked thighs and saturated pussy. She felt herself peeing a little more as he tongued her folds, just a ticklish dribble that set the stage for another thunderous orgasm – which soon sent another kind of wetness splashing onto his face.
She was still standing when he fucked her, his solid strength holding her up, enabling her to take him in almost effortlessly. All she had to do was clutch him with her c**t and feel his throbbing hardness express the thrill she had given him. She pressed her arse against his palms and, to her delight, she found herself orgasming again when he shot into his condom inside her.
She woke up the next morning in Michael’s room. She remembered being put to bed, exhausted, after a steaming shower. Her laundry had been done, as he’d promised.
She felt loved and adored and fulfilled and satisfied.
And she had to pee.
