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WaityKaty

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WaityKaty last won the day on May 7 2017

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  1. Thanks! ❤️ It’s something I wouldn’t have written without the competition. Specific prompts are good for doing new things!
  2. This story is set in upstate New York in the late 19th century. ‘Water Cure’ in context refers to the wildly popular practice of hydrotherapy as alternative medicine capable of curing just about anything. Absolutely not the ironic latter usage describing torture. All characters are women, there is sex involved. Amy crossed her legs tightly as she sat herself down on the smooth marble bench. Why didn’t she just ask the attendant to show her where she could relieve herself? Surely that’s what everyone else would do? Maybe one of the other women in the Turkish bath would know? Probably. Half a dozen ladies of various ages sat sporadicly around the steamy room. She could see small vents in the floor from which the warm, wet air rose lazily. But Amy knew she wouldn’t ask. She would just need to hold it. But for how much longer? She got the impression that the Water Cure still contained other dubious ‘pleasures’. The glasses of chilled water full of lemon and exotic herbs to ‘relax her inhibitions’ that she’d drank on arrival were still working their way through her and she was starting to worry that she wouldn’t be able to contain herself. What would she do if she wet herself? Probably never leave her house again. Which would be entirely the opposite outcome to that the Water Cure had been promised to achieve. Amy had always been shy, and preferred her own company. She didn’t see how anything was different now that her daughter had been born. But her husband claims to worry, and her mother-in-law suggested the Water Cure would heal her ‘unsociability’. So here she was. Getting cured. The herbs, at least, had done nothing. Or she’d already have asked for the lavatory. Amy tried to minimise her squirming, despite her bursting bladder. It was unladylike to show such a need. Of course it was even more unladylike to wet one’s dress, or even the rough towel-like gowns the attendants had the women wear between treatments. Amy suspected she was meant to have taken off the gown in the Turkish bath. Given the warm humid air more access to her skin. While a couple of the other women still held their gowns wrapped around themselves like Amy a few had removed them and were sitting naked. One was covering her breasts and between her legs with her arms and hands and looked as if she would prefer not to be so exposed. But a couple of others were comfortably casual in their nudity and hid nothing from display. Amy had never seen anything like it and her curiosity to continue to examine the ladies surprised her. She tried not to stare but couldn’t resist taking long glances whenever she felt she had to. The lady directly opposite her on the other side of the room was one of those who remained wrapped in her gown and had apparently fallen asleep, as Amy could hear her snoring prettily. It wasn’t long before the woman who had seemed uncomfortable with nakedness, but embraced it anyway, stood up, pulled her gown back on, and blushingly left the room. Over the next few minutes she was joined by several others who had had enough of the steam and an idea occurred to Amy. “If everyone leaves, even briefly, and I’m alone in the bath, I could relieve myself right here.” It was a wild idea! Amy had never before done such a thing. A lady held her bladder until she reached the appropriate facility. And if she couldn’t, shamefully, well then, she would relieve herself in her clothes. Despite Amy’s shyness leading to quite a bit of unnecessary desperation she’d not reached the point of having an actual accident since childhood. Though she had to admit that she’d always been rather fascinated by the idea of other ladies getting themselves into such a state. Where did that thought come from? It was true, now she thought it. But it was a new realisation. Perhaps the water cure did work in some ways? Her companions in the bath continued to trickle out. Regrettably the beautiful naked ladies among them. Amy was properly in need of relief now, the urgency between her legs growing quickly, unbearably, her idea of going on the floor of the bath was her only chance to avoid wetting her gown, she’d left it too late to find her way to a restroom. Even if she could make herself ask for directions. The woman opposite her shifted a little in her sleep. Napping while sitting on marble will do that, Amy supposed. Though wouldn’t it be interesting if she needed relief as well? Amy had heard stories of young women who had had accidents sometimes. Though she’d never seen it actually happen. Wouldn’t it be absolutely fascinating if this beautiful young thing ten feet away wet herself in her sleep while Amy watched? What was that thought!? Did she really want to see that? She did! The phantasy was thrilling her, and it kept her mind away from her own mounting desperation. she just had to hold out till two more women left the room. She could pee while her sleeping princess slept… Clara hadn’t felt any urge to pee when she’d first been led to the Turkish bath. Though she didn’t know where the facilities were either, had Amy asked, even though she’d drunk the same mandatory lemon, herbs, and ice water. Each time the attendants had submerged her in water, hot or cold, Clara had more or less immediately lost any control of her bladder and urinated helplessly. The first time she was quite embarrassed, as she always was whenever she wet herself, but as the water hid all evidence of her indiscretions she found herself not blushing at all either the second or third time it happened. “It’s it funny!” She thought to herself, “that it isn’t the loss of bladder control that is so shameful, but simply that anyone might know?” That was actually why she was visiting the Water Cure, her husband had found her occasional lapses in continence since she’d carried his son to be so vexing that she’d been banished to the guest bedroom “until she found control over herself”. That Clara wasn’t having accidents on purpose seemed of little consequence to Robert. She was exiled until she could be certain that she wouldn’t sully their marital bed either in her sleep, in a brief frantic wakefulness, or during her marital expectations. Sitting amid the gentle steam, Clara had felt herself starting to drift away. She’d been so tired for months. Little Harold was so demanding and even at night she dared not let herself sleep too deeply for fear of not awakening to his cries, or to the demands of her temperamental bladder. She didn’t know how long she napped, sitting upright on a marble bench, the door latching shut as someone departed must have roused her. Instantly she felt a sudden stab of urgency in her lap. Instinctively, as if she were in her bed and not in public, her hand shot between her legs. To her horror a beautiful young women sitting on the opposite bench, her only companion in the room now, was looking directly at her. She whipped her hand away from her complaining shell and blushed desperately. What was she to do? From experience Clara knew she would never make it the facility lavatories, even if she already knew where they were. She’d taken to having a chamber pot next to her bed, and she could often make it that far with dry nightclothes if she managed to wake in time, but could never reach another room with dry legs. So she was to have an accident then? In front of one of the fairest girls she could recall seeing? Who was still looking at her, curiously. Clara wished she hadn’t awoken and it had happened in her sleep. That was somehow always better. She hoped the beautiful girl would be kind. In her experience beauty and kindness seldom correlated. The least she could do was warn her, so she could avert her gaze, or leave quickly in disgust. “I’m dreadfully sorry,” Clara began. She could feel her bottom growing hot and wet as she spoke. She continued quickly “But I’ve lost control of my bladder.” Surprisingly the young woman didn’t look away at all. Clara could see her shock, but she was interested. Clara watched her watch the unfolding accident. Her pee saturated the seat of her gown and trickled down her bare legs, pooling around her feet and slowly finding its way to a drain in the centre of the floor. ”I’m so sorry!” Clara offered. “I must have slept too deeply. Please don’t think too dreadfully of me.” ”No! I’d never!” Amy met her eyes now. Clara’s accident had been exactly as she had imagined. Her imagination hadn’t caused it had it? No. That’s crazy. Her own bladder surged recklessly. If she was going to keep her own gown dry she needed to go on the floor now. Right now. She held it instead. Telling herself she couldn’t do that in front of Clara, faithlessly, “Actually… I’m in the same position. I can’t wait another minute.” ”Oh no!” Clara stood up, the wet fabric clung to her bum and the back of her thighs. She took the three steps between their benches and held out her hand to the squirming woman. “Are you sure you can’t make it? I would walk with you?” Clara whispered soothingly. ”I… no… it’s too late. I waited too long. If I stand up it’s all going to come flooding out…” Amy bit her lip tearfully. ”That’s alright. Don’t cry!” Clara sat down next to Amy and lay her hand on Amy’s leg, gently stoking through the material of the rough gown. “I wet myself sometimes… you just saw me do it. Oh, please don’t be upset.” Amy welcomed the soft touch and soothing words from her companion, somehow, even through fabric, her hand on her thigh was sending sparks of excitement through her. Nearly as many as watching Clara pee in her clothes. Even though she’d chosen the inevitably, actually wetting would ruin the moment, the girl would leave. “How does it feel?” Amy whispered, “When it… happens.” ”Oh. Well. It’s very wet. And very warm. And… relieving.” Clara lay Amy’s head against her shoulder. “I promise love, you’ll feel so much better.” “Does it feel like…” Amy blushed prettily, “like touching… down there… feels.” She couldn’t believe she could be so forward. But with another women it was permitted, surely. ”A little, sometimes.” Clara admitted, as much to herself as Amy. Perhaps if Robert looked at her when it happened the way Amy did… “Is that what it feels like for you now?” ”Very much…” Amy could barely stand the tension. Between her legs. Between this woman. She didn’t think. Clara wasn’t surprised when Amy’s lips met hers. It had seemed… inevitable since she’d sat down. The air was dense and static. She kissed back. With more passion than she’d felt in a very long time. It was just as inevitable that she would touch her companions thigh beneath her gown, her fingers finding their way between the heavy folds. And edge her hand ever higher as Amy’s trembling legs parted. She had never touched another woman like this before, her seed was harder and stiffer than Clara’s. “Does it feel like this does it?” Clara moved her fingers gently between Amy’s legs. Amy was transported. A being of pure tension, strung tight between expectation and desire. She could feel a paroxysm building… Clara stroked her companion quickly, urgently. Not at all like she would if she was just beginning to touch herself, but Amy was already so wet that Clara half suspected she must have been leaking. What could make this woman so hot? Was it… her? Clara had never thought of herself as attractive. Certainly not since pregnancy. Not since she’d started having accidents. But perhaps she just needed a different perspective… Amy’s eyes were drooping and she was breathing out ragged little pants of joy. Clara knew she must be on the brink of… simultaneously Amy let out a strangled yelp and arched her back, Clara held her on the bench with her free hand, her other hand was amidst a deluge. Far more urine than Clara was capable of holding flowed through her fingers like a tide. Clara held the other woman until both the paroxysm and the river had run their course. ”There?” She purred, “That wasn’t so bad was it?” Amy looked at Clara, her pupils still dilated. Her mind lept and found footing in intention, “The world is wide, and I will not waste my life.” They left the bath together
  3. I don’t usually write fanfic. But when I do it’s based on obscure novels from the nineteenth century. This story is set in Boston in the late 1880s. If you haven’t read the letter Rose keeps mentioning it’s available here. MY ADORED KATY - I long for your next visit, my heart beats so quickly at the very thought of holding you in my arms again. The touch of your hand in mine, our sweet kisses. Please tell me you can come soon my dearest. I fear I’ll waste away with you so far from West Cedar street. And we can’t have that. Thank you for sending on the very interesting letter sweet Clover wrote you. My sympathies that it should be your sisters in such a story as you would otherwise find so stimulating. How did you respond? I hope you don’t mind that I’ve taken her letter to bed with me the last two nights. In my mind’s eye it is you and me in the situation poor Clover and Elsie were caught in. Even writing about it is making me flush, my dearest. Would you perhaps like me to recount a similar tale that happened to me? A passage I deeply hope you take into your own bed. I certainly sympathise that control only becomes increasingly impossible once one has borne a child, though as you know I was never granted much of that blessing prior to confinement. Nowatimes if I’m not quite careful I can very easily find myself in a position where becoming rather wet is an inevitability. Especially as I am very often uncareful. If you keep reading this letter Katy, my love, I assure you that you becoming rather wet is also an inevitability. My suggestion is you rub the wetness away with those lovely long skilful fingers of yours. And if you find that this petting is only producing still more wetness that you do not quit. I was very uncareful yesterday, Katy. I couldn’t help myself, after reading Clover’s letter, I simply had to feel what she felt. I walked down to the Common, already feeling a need. It was a beautiful clear day. The tulips were nodding their pretty heads and clouds of magnolia blossom drifted above. And I could not fully appreciate them for my need was becoming increasingly great. That tight tension in your belly, the tempting tingling in your lap. Were it raining perhaps I’d have done as they do in the High Valley and allowed it to run down my legs amongst the flowers. Perhaps you could join me if it’s raining next we see each other? How I would love to piss myself as you are doing the same by my side. I promise I will pet away the wetness from your pussy when we return to West Cedar street! Yesterday however, I could not bring myself to let it happen. You know I’ve struggled with the execution of truly intentional clothed wetting. I lack your talent I’m afraid. I rushed to the safety of West Cedar street and home. Though you mustn’t be disappointed! For my neighbor, Mrs Hudson, a charming older lady whose husband also went to sea, I must introduce you, accosted me with a truly interminable tale. I swear I tried to break away, dearest. I swear I tried repeatedly to subtly suggest that I simply must leave her and get inside. Though I must confess that being unable to politely escape was a thrill. I didn’t hear a word she said, not a word, so focused was I on containing my flood. Holding back my dam until the last possibly second. I fear I’d have cried with disappointment had she acquiesced to my feeble attempts at liberty. You know what happens next. The first tiny dribbles sneaking slowly past my defences, soaking steadily through my underthings and then streaming down my silk stockings. A scalding surge making me… wet. Mrs Hudson noticed the pattering between my shoes and the ever expanding puddle at once. I could hardly hide it! With eyes as big as tart tins she broke off midstory and insisted that I better “hurry inside dear”. I did of course! I needed to try to rub away the new and even more pressing need between my legs. At the time I must tell you I was very successful. But I’m afraid the need is back and only your flickering fingers can quell it, my love. Please do come, Katy, my heart. Also do visit West Cedar street. I’ll slake your needs with my quick tongue, and my wit, of course. MY ENDLESS LOVE, ROSE
  4. 😂 Yeah I had to Google a carryall as well. In hindsight I absolutely should have stuck the authors notes at the front of this one. I am considering doing a *little* more with this. So if I do I will!
  5. MY DEAREST KATY - I have a most amusing story to share with you! Yesterday Clarence and Geoff took Elsie and me up to Cheyenne canyon for the afternoon. You know the one? We took you last time you were out? At this time of year it is filled with the most delightful penstamens, columbines, and early crocus, and there is still enough melt for the waterfall to splash reliably. It really is the best of our canyons, though we must be considered quite spoiled in the way of such things. After we had finished a late lunch: cold roast joint, good bread, raspberries and cream, and a bit too much iced tea, as it transpired, but before we we quite ready to return to the ‘hut’, one of those storms we are also blessed of in abundance blew in very quickly. It was all we could do to scramble into the carryall before we got soaked through! You know the trip back to the High Valley and home is not too long. But dearest sister, for a woman who has recently been pregnant and who was rushed into leaving before she could inspect the bushes it was entirely long enough. The ride back was an absolute anxious agony. I simply couldn’t ask to stop and stretch my legs for the rain was both heavy and incessant, there was nothing to do but cross my legs as tightly as possible and hang on. I fear I was such poor company so far as conversation that Clarence and Geoff gave up trying to talk to Elsie and me and had their own discourse primarily about the weather and cattle. Which is most of what they talk about with each other at any time so far as I can tell. I’m embarrassed to say it’s not until we were nearly back in the Valley that it even occurred to me that Elsie must be in much the same situation as me! The poor pet had her legs crossed twice over and hadn’t said a word in half an hour before I realised, not that I was not as completely helpless to assist her as I was to help myself. Now, I have permission from Elsie to tell her part of this story as well, so don’t think me a terrible gossip. Now it is all over she finds it as funny as I do, and I’m sure you must! But at the time I think she was quite vexed. Very naturally, I felt the same, to be in such a situation with our husbands just a few feet away. I reached out to hold her hand and assure her that we must be home and relieved within fifteen minutes at most. Which I was fairly confident I might manage, if barely. But poor Elsie near fell against me as she whispered in my ear that “she wouldn’t be able to last fifteen minutes”. I simply had no way to help but to encourage her to find strength to carry on, there was no other option. Alas, I’m afraid to say, Elsie’s prediction proved true and a gentle trickle found it’s way onto the floor of the carryall. Mercifully her husband was still turned around to talk to mine during all this. I quickly put my boots in the path of her liquid to keep it from casual reveal and held her hand tightly as a small comfort. But surely the back of her dress must be soaked, even as the rest of her was dry, and her indiscretion revealed upon our arrival. And as much as I felt for lovely Elsie I was yet worried that my dress may meet the same fate! Just as I, and surely she, were trying to plan for her to slip away unnoticed, we became stuck in a thick patch of mud! Clarence and Geoff worked to unstick us but the delay was sure to prove a final straw to my hopes of lasting till we reached home. Indeed, I’m afraid even without the delay I may have been unable. Except it also offered both us a window of salvation. “Let’s join the boys outside!” I suggested to our forlorn Elsie, “If all of you is wet…” Our menfolk were horrified. But we assured them that we were no society ladies afraid of a little rain and if our loves must become wet we should wish the same for ourselves. I’m afraid they must have thought us quite silly. At a safe distance Elsie began to apologise to me for what had happened. Of course I quickly quietened her and assured her that I had very nearly done the same as she. With wide eyes she suggested that we visit a nearby stand of juvenile junipers but I had to inform her that, “it was too late.” For I’m afraid, my beautiful sister, it was indeed too late. My legs were entirely awash with my own waters, filling my boots utterly. It is, I believe, not possible to contain so much while you are under a rainstorm. Of course the advantage of such a rainstorm is the evidence is quite washed away. Though I assure you, from how my lingerie clung, I knew very well what I’d done. After I’d finished, and assured Elsie that the wet patch on the back of her dress had been joined by so many other wet patches as to be unremarkable, we returned to the carryall, and endeavoured to drip sufficiently as to disguise her earlier wetness on the baseboards. And I’m very happy to report the men never had any idea of any of this! I hope this letter finds you well my dearest Katy, and as always, if you find yourself at a loose end you must come visit. We are still expecting a visit from Johnnie and Papa next month and it would be wonderful to have you as well… Give my best to Ned, and Rose if you see her. All my love, YOUR OWN, CLOVER I don’t usually write fanfic. But when I do it’s based on obscure novels from the nineteenth century. 🤷‍♀️
  6. (duarg - 1hr ago) Did she seem upset or awkward or disgusted at all? Did you sense any BAD VIBES post-wetting? Or I guess MID wetting? I think it was prolly most awkward on my end? I was trying not to act weird and draw attention if she didn’t notice!
  7. (Megan4123 - 3hrs ago) What were you wearing? Knee length black dress with a cute print. Thank God. Can you imagine if I was wearing jeans or something??? I don't think I have the chutzpah to finish up saying goodbye instead of running inside if it was that undeniably obvious. (hurricanetia - 2hrs ago) Have you ever wet yourself before? No! It’s literally been decades. Plural! And I’m 25. I really didn’t think it actually could happen like that because I’ve obviously been desperate before, but I’d always made it to the toilet in time!
  8. (ashgurl - 5hrs ago) Were there any signs that she noticed? That’s the question isn’t it! I hope not!!! It was pretty dark. And it did mostly go down my legs (RIP boots). But she hasn’t messaged me yet so that’s not a great sign…
  9. Embarrassingly not click bait... For the last few weeks a girl at my gym and I (25F) have been doing a sort-of-flirty sort-of-maybe-friendly thing where I’m not entirely sort whether she likes girls/me so I didn’t want to ask her out. But then she asked me out (!) to see the new Batman. We ended up arranging to grab some food beforehand at the burger place next door. Turned out it was a date and we held hands in the movie!!! Afterward she dropped me off at my place and we chatted on my lawn for a bit. It was going great. Except problem! I need to pee soooooo bad. Like I’ve never needed to go so bad. But it’s fine right? Like... I’m not going to piss myself or something 😂. Anyway, eventually I had to pee so bad I was about to say goodnight and go inside regardless of how much I wanted to keep talking to her. It was at that point she went in for the kiss. The problem being I had no more time. I'd already waited till the last second. Like pee was coming out. A lot of pee. Neither of us said anything about it. So that was my night! FML AMA!
  10. I slide awake, all smooth and fluid. I'm immediately aware that I'm peeing. I can hear it as well as feel it spreading up my back. I make a panicked attempt to stop, as pointless as it would be, but I've never been able to stop if I wake up wetting the bed. And I haven't picked up a new skill. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Of all the nights! The satin sheet saturates beneath me. It's up to my hair. Obviously I sleep on a mattress protector, so it's got nowhere to go but around me. I'll have to tell Rina. I don't want to. I'm worried she'll think I insensitively did it on purpose. I don't even know where we are with pee stuff now. I don't even know where we are right now. I don't want to hurt her. It gets cold lying there. I have memories of waking my mother at 5am, memories of hoping-dreading someone else notices the puddle under my chair so I don't have to say it myself. I don't want to think about any of that. Don't drown in past humiliations. I have to tell her. Apologise. Fuck me. "Rina..." I shake her shoulder a little when she doesn't respond to the first three tentative whispers. Her eyes snap open. "Sally? What's wrong?" I don't want to tell her so much. This really sucks. I'd been hoping I'd wet the bed for months now, and the one night I really don't want to, the one night I actually go to the toilet before bed, is, of course, the one night it happens. Natch. "I'm sorry. I'm really, really sorry. I swear it was an accident." I babble and then start to cry. I don't want to, it's not embarrassment. I just... don't want to upset her. "What's happened? Are you... Did you wet the bed?" She must have found my puddle with her hand or something. "It's OK! I promise I'm not upset!" She reaches out to touch my face in the mostly-dark. Tracing my tears with her finger-tips. "Did you think I'd be mad at you?" She says so softly. "I... you were really upset. I... didn't want to hurt you." I feel small-brittle, wind-blowable. Rina takes a beat to respond, I'm spun-glass. "Babe. You haven't. Promise. I am upset about yesterday. I'm really embarrassed. I'm scared everyone will judge me and see me as 'that girl who pissed herself at work for no reason' and not for what I can do. I don't want to go back. But..." I wish I could see her face. "After it happened. All I wanted was you." Her voice broke as she finished. I do too, my tension leaking away. I want to hug her, but I don't really want to get her wet. It's not that kind of moment. I touch her side instead, still apart. "I will never, ever, be upset with you for anything like this. OK? I promise." Her hand on my arm. "I love you Rina" "You'll make me cry as well in a minute Sal." She laces her fingers through mine. "Shower time?" I heat the shower up while Rina strips the bed. She insists. I strip my wet sleep-things into the washer and stand shivering slightly when Rina adds sheets to the load of washing. I notice her knickers are wet as well, my puddle spread more than I thought. "Sorry I got you as well." "You need to stop saying sorry, Love." She wraps her arms around me and pecks my lips. "Your hair is a bit wet." I smile back at her teasing grin. "I have a big bladder!" "But not a strong one!" I feel her hand run down my back to my naked bottom. "You're one to talk!" I immediately regret the retort. I really don't want to ruin this. "Grr!" She bites me on the neck, harder than usual. "Don't remind me!" She slaps my bottom to encourage me under the water. Rina steps into the shower behind me. She's never done that before. Usually when I have a shower she sits on a towel and chats to me, or doom-scrolls on her phone. Even if she's planning on having a shower as well. I duck my head under the water. Rinsing off quickly. "So..." Rina's tone is her sexy-voice. It's Pavlovian now, I can feel my body respond to the pitch alone. "What happened? Did you have a dream?" I reach for her. Pull her to me under the water. "Yes. But dreams are weird. I wouldn't go so far as to suggest it made total sense or anything." "Was it one of the ones where you have an accident in your dream and then have one in real life as well?" Rina asks, then adds. "I've had that happen to me." "Mmm." I kiss her mouth and fill my hands with her hair. "I'm going to need to ask you all about that." "Are you really?" She gently pulls away from me and starts wetting her washcloth. "Would that interest you?" "Yeah totally! I'm interested in you." "Well obvs... but 'interest' you?" She looks up at me just briefly, then returns to studying the entire wet washcloth. "Uh huh." "OK then. I'll tell you sometime." She changes the subject, "Can I clean you with this?" "Sure?" It's not what I expected her to say but... sure? The warm, wet cloth runs smoothly over my skin. My chest, my arms. She presses her body to mine to do my back rather than asking me to turn around. "Tell me about your dream?" She beg-whispers in my ear as the cloth caresses my scapula. "I was buying a pub or something. Dreams are really weird. And I was standing in the bar with the real estate lady when I realised I needed a wee. But I didn't want to interrupt her mid-spiel" "Do you want to buy a pub?" Rina teases me, the washcloth draws across my belly, even as she keeps as much of herself against me as she can. "No!" I giggle at the question, "Dream-Sally did though, I guess! Eventually I had to interrupt her and ask where the bathrooms were." One of her hands is on my breast where she's pressed against me, the other strokes the front of my thighs with the cloth. "Did she tell you?" "No... She just said she'd get to that and kept talking about financing options and random acronyms I think I made up." The washcloth is on my inner thighs now. I part my legs instinctively, craving her touch. "That's a real problem for you, hey! Can't be rude and walk off while someone is speaking to you." "I know right! But I had to go so bad" As I emphasise my need the cloth finds my vulva. Gently. I feel like melting. "So I... just did it right their in front of her. In my clothes while she was speaking. And she just kept on talking like it was nothing! And that's it. Dreams are weird." Rina rubs me a few more times then lets the washcloth drop, disappointingly. "And then you woke up all... wet?" "Actually... I woke up... wetting? But I can't stop when that happens." I know I'm blushing. "Really!" Her voice is all throat and sex. "So you lay there just... doing a wee in our bed? Awake but unable to stop?" "Yeah..." I bite my lower lip. "That's so hot..." Rina kisses me softly on the mouth, but her passion tells. Her hands run trails down my lines. She kisses my throat. My sternum. My belly. Between my legs. I brace myself on a safety bar her grandmother must have had installed during her long decline. I'm glad of it, my legs are jelly under Rina's tongue. I can scarce remember to breathe. The water pours down upon us both.
  11. Thanks both, and everyone else who enjoyed this chapter. I was a bit nervous about pulling the trigger on taking a, temporary, turn away from the "fun" vibe that the story up till now had. It was pretty important for character development required for the overarching plot though. I'm glad you made that assumption! I started the story with Sally and Rina as fully formed characters in my head/notes. Compete with jobs/schooling in mind. So Rina has always been "some sort of research chemist". Sally is a freelance writer. It's not been explicitly mentioned I don't think, because it hasn't been important. But I hope she "feels" like someone who has read classics 😛
  12. I slide back into my desk chair after a much needed visit to the loo just down the hall. Desperately needed actually. I really shouldn't leave it that late or one day I'll wind up wetting my chair. I work from home, my old sleep-space actually. My bed is still there but I've not slept in it in more than a month. Feels... commitmenty to get rid of it though? I dig back into the article I left open on my computer, for about fifteen seconds, when my phone rings and scares me half to death. It's on as loud as it goes because I'm always leaving it somewhere and needing Rina to ring it for me so I can find the damn thing. Today it is three inches from my right hand. Good thing I just went to the toilet. It's Rina. Which is a surprise, she doesn't usually call me during the work-day. A pleasant surprise though. "Hey babe?" I answer. "What's up?" I can tell something is wrong from her breathing. Even before she answers. "Can you come pick me up? Please?" "Yeah of course!" I'm already standing up and trying to remember where I've left my keys. "What's happened?" She takes a second longer to answer than she should. Reluctance. "I'm really upset. I just want to come home." "OK. That's OK. I'm coming to get you." I've never done that before. Never even been to her building, though I know roughly where it is. "Thanks." And just as I'm about to hang up she talks again. "Hayley will meet you outside the front door. And... can you bring me some clothes?" She sounds positively pained to ask. "Yeah? What kind of clothes?" Why would not Rina meet me herself? "It doesn't matter... I wet my pants, OK." She snaps. And hangs up before I can reply. I feel sick for her. I know how much she actually hates that sort of thing happening to her outside a controlled environment. I go to our room and pack a plastic bag of clothes I've seen RIna wear to work. Stuff it in my biggest handbag. Find my keys under random stuff on the dining table. Natch. I surprise myself by finding her building on more-or-less the first try. It's all glass and clean angles. I don't care for it much. A woman around our age leans on a raised garden-bed nearish the front door. "Hayley? I'm Sabrina's friend?" I wince inwardly at saying the unfamiliar name, but I don't actually know if she uses her nickname at work. She blinks at me. "Oh, Rina! Yeah for sure. Come on, I'll take you to her." We chit-chat about the building, how long Hayley has worked there, how long I've been living with Rina, as Hayley lead me past the receptionist and through a series of doors, corridors, desk corrals. Arcane machines blink and whir on the other side of large windows. Everything hums and-or flashes. Rina does something with microchemicals, or something. We stop outside an accessible bathroom, off a side corridor. "Do you want to go in?" Hayley offers. "Or I can?" "No no. I've got it." I smile back at my new acquaintance. I'm pretty sure Rina has mentioned her name before. Rina lets me in after I knock quietly and whisper who I am, she barely opens the door wide enough to admit me. I try to keep my eyes strictly on Rina's mascara streaked face, I've never actually seen her in wet pants. But, like, I can't not notice. Her pants are more wet than not. She's not wearing shoes. Shit, shoes and socks! "I'm sorry sweetheart..." I offer a hug with my body language. She's not interested. "Thanks for coming." She won't look at me. I pull the plastic bag of her clothes out of my handbag and offer it to her. "I'll always come." Rina shakes her head when I offer to wait outside while she changes. Which is good, because I'd feel really awkward waiting out there on my own. What would I say I'm doing if someone asked? I don't watch her getting un(dressed), it feels inappropriate. I do watch her wincing as she puts her obviously wet shoes back on, without socks. She doesn't complain that I didn't bring the right clothes. I take the bag back all knotted and heavy, and hide it in my handbag. She takes off her make-up, while I feel useless and lean against the door. She's still not looking at me. "I need to talk to my boss before I go. Can you wait for me outside?" I'm definitely getting lost. I agree anyway. I get lost. But still beat her outside. By less than a minute. We get in the car in silence. When my mum used to pick me up after I wet myself we used to get ice-cream. I don't think that Rina wants me to make that offer. I think she just wants to go home. I don't blame her. We drive home in silence. She locks herself in the bathroom and turns on the shower as soon as we are inside. I get back to work and listen to it run. I mostly expect her to come see me afterward. But she doesn't. And I don't know if she wants me to leave her alone or not. She didn't seem to want me before. But I can't not go to her. I feel a bit shaky. She's on her balcony, curled up in the corner, wearing just a towel. Rain noise coming from her phone. Eyes shut and leaking. I can't see her until I open the balcony door to check. I feel like an intruder. I'm starting to turn away when she holds a hand out, "Sally?" I notice how thin her fingers seem. I take her hand and sit down next to her. Rina holds my fingers tightly and takes a very long time to talk. Then her words are all at once. "I'm so embarrassed. So embarrassed. I'm so fucking stupid." She squeezes my hand too tight for a second. "I just put off going too long. Was busy with the spectraflow, in a zone, I knew I was busting but I just put it off till the last goddamned minute. And then I didn't make it. Fuck fuck fuck. How am I going to go back? Now I'm just the girl who pissed herself for no reason! I had to tell my boss. Fuck me." I don't know what to say. I've done the same thing. I nearly did the same thing today! But I don't think that'd make her feel any better. She lays her head in my lap. I'm afraid to move.
  13. I slide up next to Rina so that we barely brush arms, with the intent of holding her hand while we wait to be picked up. Instead I shoulder-charge her in the scapula. Stupid wine. Luckily I don't barge her into the begonias. "You good Sal?" Luckily I'm getting the impression that she found my friends embarrassing me all evening charming rather than off-putting. She must love me or something. "You seem a little unsteady on your feet?" "Forgetful too!" I tell her proudly. I see her check I've got my handbag with me. "Not that." I lean over and whisper in her ear, loudly, "I forgot to do a wee before we left." Then I bite her ear, hard. She takes my continued manhandling gracefully. "OK. Three points. One: Yay." She takes both my hands. Maybe to defend herself. "Two: You need to talk a bit quieter because I know you don't really want your friends to hear you saying... certain things. And three: Are you sure you can hold it? It'll be like twenty minutes till we get home and wetting yourself in the back of a strangers car would be... not great?" I've considered that and timed things out. I've got twenty minutes in me. I barely even need to go. She's got a good point about being quieter though. Kirsty is coming out the front as well. I instinctively let go of Rina's hands and immediately regret it. Especially when I see her face. I want to fix things but I can't with Kirsty right there. "Hey girls!" Kirsty walks over to us, "Can I share you ride? Isaac can't pick me up after all." Typical Isaac. I absolutely roll my eyes. No way Kirsty didn't notice. I'm not casting myself in the best light tonight am I? "Of course you can!" Rina says, without even knowing where Kirsty lives. It's on the way. Ish. But it'll add at least ten minutes to our travel time. I can hardly object. Or go back inside to use the toilet before we go because a car has pulled up in front of Gabby's. It's for us. Mrmm yay. Kirsty takes the front seat so Rina and I can sit together and hits up our driver with directions. We haven't left the street when I feel my handbag vibrate in my lap. My phone, of course. Hey babe. Sorry. Is it OK that we are dropping Kirsty off? I prolly should have checked with you first, hey? I text her a reply. Totes. Isaac never picks her up. Cockbite. You can run in and pee at Kirsty's if you need to? K? I won't be disappointed. Don't stress yourself out being desperate in front of a stranger! But I'm behind a stranger?? 😛 We chitchat out loud for a bit. Kirsty is openly annoyed with Isaac. Maybe herself. Maybe me. I do consider asking her if I can pop to her loo, because by the time we drop her off I do properly need a wee. But ultimately decide that's kind of an embarrassing thing to do. Plus she might want to yell at Isaac. Who is very likely in front of his Xbox in the living room. I don't want to be there for that. I have some regrets as we pull away. So... I really need to pee. I told you to go at Kirsty's! How far away from home are we? Twenty? About that? Are you good for twenty? I can get him to stop at a petrol station or Macca's or something? 😬 That would be really embarrassing As embarrassing as pissing yourself on his seat??? Less embarrassing than that. More embarrassing than just holding it like a big girl *lick* I was mostly playing when we sent those messages. A little cyber-foreplay. But halfway home I was actually, for real, feeling it. Like I might pee myself feeling it. Stupid wine. Stupid never-have-I-ever game. You're absolutely gorgous *gorgeus *gorgeous??? Autocorrect failing you? 😛 Worried bladder control is going to fail me Babe!!! I told you we could stop! Are you OK to make it home??? Ummmm. Not sure? Should I put my hand up? I don't think you need to ask for permission here hon? Not like that! Like, up my dress? Um... Yeah. You should do that? Does that help you hold on much? Rina's eyes are glued to my lap. She can't see anything though. She sees potential. I might be sitting directly behind our helpful driver guy but I'm careful to make sure my dress if still covering my lap, even as I'm holding-rubbing myself through my knickers. Kinda I guess? It certainly feels like the thing to do? Maybe I'm just horny 😈 I am very honry. if that was not clear. 🦪 *horny I'm going to do things to you when we get home my beautiful sexy girl. Does it help you? Holding myself? Nah. Just gets my hands wet as well 😉 Damn babe. I can't wait till you're the one touching me. Can't wait. heh Try to wait! We are nearly home. Super nearly. You don't need to make it to the loo. Just not behind this guy. Oh I'm not making it too the loo. nope nope nope. With luck, out of the car... You pierce my soul. Halfway between hope and agony? You do read the books I give you! Of course I do. When the car pulls in, luckily nicely near our place, I jump up straight away and bolt from the car faster than is seemly. Relieved I've not relieved myself on the cloth seats of a car I don't own. Standing up, and maybe the sudden loss of manual pressure, leads to leakage. I clench, I burn. I straight-up run for the front door, surprising myself that I've not leaving a wet trail as I go. We live on a kinda busy street with shops and restaurants and stuff. I'd prefer not to wet myself here either. I hit the door step, try the door-knob, realise that it is, of course, locked and grab my handbag to rummage for my keys. Shit! Handbag! Rina is only a few steps behind me, with my bag, she's kinda quick? But it's already too late. A sudden burst of pressure and it's numbly running down my legs. Rina throws herself against me rather than watch. Hand tight on my wrist, mouth firmly against mine, her tongue darting between my teeth. I'm sure I'm getting her wet. It's in my heels. I give myself to her. When I'm finished Rina unlocks the door, still pressing me hard up against it. We shuffle step into the hall as it swings open. Rina kicks it closed. I don't take my eyes off her face. She unzipping my dress, unclasping my bra, I'm being opened up. I expect to be led upstairs to our bedroom. But inside she lowers me to the rug barely inside the door. Thread-worn and drab. Her grandmother's taste, surely. "You're good yeah babe? You don't want to go to bed?" She says. Her mouth three inches from mine. "I'm really good." I keep my gaze steady on hers for a moment, and then pull her toward me. Lips again on mine. Her body pressing on me. Firm against the rug. Secure. I hook my heels around her calves. Her mouth on my neck. Her hands on mine. Her thigh between my legs. I press myself against her. Begging for friction enough. I shut my eyes and fall into myself. Feel all of her. Want all of her. I moan frustration when she withdraws her thigh from me. Am mollified by her hand. She murmurs in my ear, checking on me. I knot my fingers in her hair, headless of the hair-pins through it. Holding her to me. Rina's fingers find their way inside me. Curling gently against my inner walls. I push up against her palm, gasping. Cheeks together, head full of her scent, I explode gently. Rippling along her fingers. She holds me tightly, the fibres of her Grandmother rug imprinting my back. Sweet mother, I cannot weave.
  14. Aww thanks so much 😊 (I'm working on writing up the next chapter. Still storyboarded three ahead)
  15. I slide down from the arm-rest of Gabby's worn sofa more-or-less into Rina's lap, and giggle. "I've probably had enough wine do you think?" I ask the room-full of my friends. They disagree. Rina slides over, closer to Kirsty, leaving me a gap to just about sit comfortably, but leaves a hand just above my knee. Skin-to-skin. I'm embarrassed: my veins pump blood into my throat. I know my friends are cool with me having a girlfriend now. I 'warned' them on messenger before I brought Rina to girls' night. And no one even blinked at my agonised over, perfectly worded, confession of... something other than heterosexuality. I don't know exactly. If anyone was surprised or bothered I've not seen any sign. I'm embarrassed that I'm anxious. "Althea's turn!" Gabby says happily. Of course. A continuance of my least favourite game. Especially when my friends are using it to force me to reveal embarrassing stuff about myself in front of Rina. "Mrmmm..." She thinks out loud, "Never have I ever stood up a date because I watched Masterchef instead." Me. Of course. But it could have been, and has been, worse. I drink a large swallow of my wine. Sicky sweet. How I like it. Obviously no one else does. I drink like a 19th century Russian princess. Or a 16 year-old teeny-bopper with no palate. Depending on how flattering-insulting you want to be about me. "These are all too specific." I pout. "At least make things vague enough that it might not just be me who is getting drunk and embarrassed." "Gotta tell the story before we move on, Sally." Gabby reminds me. Of course I do. "I wasn't that into him. They were cooking with emu eggs. I forgot I was meant to be going out." I briefly summarise. Emu eggs are very cool. Gym guys... I probably shouldn't have agreed to the date in the first place. "Don't worry Rina. I can tell she wouldn't forget she was meant to be on a date with you!" Kirsty says with a smirk. Rina plays along with a mock-stern, "Better not!" and squeezes my thigh. "My turn?" Shirin asks, saving me. I don't know her very well. Kirsty's girl-friend. Friend who is a girl. They aren't dating. She might target Kirsty rather than me. If I'm very lucky. "Never have I ever..." She's pausing for dramatic effect, not because she hasn't got a good never-have-I-ever loaded up. "Wet myself as an adult!" Freaking. Damn it. It wasn't aimed at me but it still hits. I take a slug of wine, finishing the glass. I'm really going to get properly pissed if I'm drinking on every turn. Obviously Rina drinks as well. And Kirsty, who I knew about, as obviously did Shirin. Then I see Gabby and Althea drink as well. On the one hand I'm not surprised, my belief that almost everyone has wet themselves at some point vindicated. On the other I never specifically knew that they had. "All of you??? Dirty bitches!" Shirin laughs good humouredly. Althea throws a cushion at her. "Which means..." Gabby says excitedly, "you need to drink a whole glass!" She takes Shirin's glass to fill it for her. "Also girls... stories!" "Everyone already knows mine!" Kirsty objects. "Not Rina." Althea offers helpfully. Kirsty shoots her a dark look. "God. Fine." I'm not entirely sure how I feel about my friends telling Rina stories about wetting themselves but... It's going to happen. And I'm the one sharing her bed. And Rina actually already knows this one. "So... One morning, when I woke up, Isaac got pretty handsy and stuff straight away. Except I needed to go the toilet. Because, you know, I just woke up." Kirsty shrugs. I note that everyone accepts that as being obviously a true fact. "But instead of telling him to pump the breaks for a minute I just figured 'eh... we'll just rush through it. I can hold it.' " Kirsty blushes but keeps talking directly at Rina. "I was very, very, wrong. I weed all over him. He was pretty pissed, no pun intended. We had to get a new mattress. So lesson learned, toilet first, sex second." I take Rina's hand in mind so she doesn't end up putting her fingernails through my leg. Since this is a old story no one has follow-up questions. "I wet myself at a Tame Impala gig!" Gabby is tipsy enough and unflappable enough that she has zero reservations about sharing. "Whoh that is super public, girl!" Kirsty is horrified. I'm pretty horrified as well. Is that Gabby is sharing this story a sign she doesn't have any less embarrassing stories? Or would she intentionally pick the most embarrassing story she has? Gabby is a bit like that. "I was busting. Thanks smuggled-in litre bottle of vodka and water." Gabby pokes her tongue out. "The band were tearing it up and I wasn't keen to miss any part of it. I guess I misjudged things? Or maybe excitement and jumping up and down aren't great for bladder control?" Again the tongue poke that says she's kidding. "And then... it started trickling all down my legs. And by that point what are you going to do? The queues for the loo were huge. I was wearing a skirt and sandals." She stands up and mimed how she must have done it, "Straight down my legs. No big deal at all. Mine wasn't the only suspicious puddle that night." "You didn't even try to go to the bathroom?" Shirin is scandalised. "I'd absolutely have wet myself in the queue anyway. Mosh pit is less noticeable." Gabby says with a giggle. I go next. I just retell the first story I told Rina. Where I wet myself getting out of my car. But with way less details. If I give the poor girl new material she'll probably pass out on me. "Seeing your front door when you are busting can make it very hard to keep holding on." Kirsty commiserates. "Though not as bad as seeing the toilet itself." Gabby agrees amiably. Rina stumbles through a very brief story about wetting herself laughing too hard. I'll have to ask her more about that later. No one pushes her to elaborate. Considerate friends! Althea tells her story last. "I was back home for a couple of weeks. Staying with the family, visiting grandparents, catching up with old school mates. This particular evening I'd gone into town with my sister, hit up a pub, schniddy, couple of pots, like six of lemonade because I was driving." "And when was this exactly?" Gabby was always most likely to ask the questions. "Oh like last Christmas." Althea blushes, "It was actually only my third night back. So I didn't get to run away from pissing myself as fast as I'd want to. Anyway... We needed to leave to pub in a hurry at around 11. Stace got into a barney with one of the Campbell bitches. Oh sorry. Local references. They suck, there are like six of them, everyone had a Campbell bitch in their year at school." Althea with the details! I check on Rina. Consider taking her pulse. I slide my hand along her back instead and rub her spine through the cotton, counting her lumbar vertebrae with my fingertips. I feel her shiver. I want to make-out with her but I'm not nearly drunk enough to think that would be at all appropriate. "I needed to go the toilet before we left, but Stace wanted to go straight away and it's only about twenty minutes back to Mum and Dad's so I figured I'd be fine. You guys? I was not fine. I started complaining about it to Stace before we even pulled out of the parking lot, but she just thought it was funny and tried to make me laugh. Guess that would have worked on you, hey Rina?" She winks at my girlfriend and earns a blush. "Anyway it didn't work on me. But I was seriously considering just pulling over to the side of the road and popping a squat. It just seemed silly to do that so close to an actual toilet. And I totally would have made it.... except! There is a level crossing *just* before the driveway up to my parent's place. You can hear the trains constantly if you aren't used to them. I swear I never sleep my first night back. And, of course, I forgot that I could get caught by a train. Which, of course, I did." "Why didn't you just go behind a bush at that point?" Shirin asks the obvious. "Well it's basically an impossible place to do that. Straight down an embankment on one side and a wall of lantana on the other. And I couldn't just go on the road because a huge cattle truck had pulled up behind us." Althea shakes her head. "There was just nowhere to go. I held it for like eighty coal hoppers and then it all came out in a freaking tsunami. Stace thought it was hilarious. My parents were less thrilled about me peeing on their car seats. Stace reminded me to go do a precautionary wee every time I went anywhere for the rest of my stay." Althea narrows her eyes, "If she starts that again next time I'm up I swear I'm going to slap her." "So... we shouldn't suggest you do a precautionary wee before you leave tonight?" Shirin jokes, and everyone laughs. With the pee-pants stories complete Shirin chugs her glass of wine, catching me up a bit, and we move on to Gabby making me drink and admit to having accidently eaten "free muffin samples" that were actually some random's unfinished muffin, insanely cut into neat pieces by a twisted mind. In a pique of blood-hunger and tipsy decision making, inspired by Althea's story, I decide I'll probably 'forget' to do a precautionary wee before Rina and I leave. Give Rina a reason to forget all about my friend's stories.
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