A Story I Wrote For A Friend

She wanted a story about us, so I wrote a story. Completely fiction, but it's nice to think it could've happened. I'm interested to see what other people think about it. So, without further ado:

“Tell me again why we’re doing this?”

She just laughed. “Cause it’ll be fun!” She took a lengthy drink from her bottle of water, as I casually sipped at my own. We were brought together by a certain… hobby we both shared. That joy happened to be desperation and wetting. So, naturally, the first thing we ended up doing together was a contest. As much as I was looking forward it all of it, I was still slightly uncomfortable with it all, while she just guzzled the fluid. I was too nervous about it all to be that carefree.

There was a brief lull in conversation, as we both sat there, idly enjoying each other’s company. She was sitting there, swinging her legs and humming some happy tune, which I was left sipping at my drink and wondering just where this was all headed. Aside from my bladder.

We talked about the topic at hand, basic questions such as “how did you get into this,” or “how often do you wet yourself?” All the questions revealed that she had much more experience than I did, which made me a bit more comfortable. If I wasn’t constantly keeping up the conversation, though, she’d pester me to drink more, drink faster, chug it. And I would, partly because I enjoyed the fetish more with someone else to turn on, and because I wanted to get things rolling.

Some number of bottles and much playful banter later, we were both starting to feel it. I kept fidgeting, unable to sit still, and she had her legs tightly crossed. I wasn’t sure if I was more entertained by my own desperation or hers.

“Stop it,” she commanded. She grabbed my hands away from me to stop me from grabbing myself, which occupied her own hands as well, so it worked out. Holding back that much water was a lot harder with nothing but muscle control, though, and things started to get uncomfortable soon after. I was fidgeting more and more; sitting still simply wasn’t an option anymore.

Despite that fact, though, her next command was “sit still.” She smiled slyly as I did my best to stop moving, a noticeable hunger in her eyes. We both knew where this was going. We both wanted it. Holding it in was almost getting painful, and yet, she still maintained most of her original composure. She danced a bit, but not nearly as much as I had. She was still humming happily, just waiting for the inevitable.

Honestly, so was I. To say I was turned on would be an understatement. I wanted to completely flood my pants, just to see the look on her face, to see the pure bliss and uncontrolled desire from her when I lost control. But I was still determined to win this contest. The desperation was nearly as good as the release, and I relished every moment of it. I was certainly much happier when her playful smile started turning down, her lips pursed tight in concentration. She wasn’t immovable, after all. I delighted in her discomfort as much as I did in my own.

Not long after, my bladder nearly reached its bursting point. It was a hard rock above my waist, and I wanted to let go, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. “Oh god. If you were to push on my bladder, I just might lose control…” I said it playfully, and she took the bait. She flashed her impish smile, her eyes sparkled, and she innocently placed her hands on my overflowing bladder. Looking up at me, her eyes dancing devilishly on my face, and she casually nuzzled against my chest, firmly leaning into my gut.

I tried to hold back, but she nearly broke me. The built-up urine inside me needed out, and I relaxed for a split second. The crotch of my pants darkened slightly dripping with the pee. She stopped pushing when I relaxed, and I got my muscles back under control enough to hold back the entire flood. As she watched my pants with a starved hunger, a delighted laugh escaped her lips, ending abruptly in a squeak as she plunged both hands between her legs, blushing heavily.

“What happened, there?” It was a playful question, but she just shook her head, unmoving. After a moment’s silence, she took a deep breath and relaxed, moving her hands back to me. Between her legs was a bit of a dark patch, but not as bad as mine. So then I decided I would win. She smiled her innocent smile, and I returned a devious one as I went to hug her. Just a hug, that was all… She stiffened slightly, knowing what was next.

I tickled her all over. She screamed and laughed, trying frantically to get away, as I relentlessly tickled her until she froze, gave a startled gasp, and shuddered once. She was standing now, awkwardly, legs spread slightly. The dark, warm stains spread quickly, dripping from her denim jeans. It twisted and turned, criss-crossing down her right leg, an elegant pattern, and then her left. It poured freely from the folds and creases, dancing down and splattering the ground. Miniature waterfalls of gold emptied from ridge to ridge, a curtain of liquid raining from between her legs, a puddle forming by her feet.

I watched the entire scene unfold, my own desire to release emptying to the back of my mind as I watched this girl flood her pants with our shared love. The spidery patterns down her legs had ballooned into large, dark stains, transforming the color of her pants entirely. The puddle ran away from us, a single golden river. Her face grew more flushed with each passing second until she exploded in delighted laughter. “****! That felt amazing!” Her eyes glowed with passion, and I realized I’d have to pee next… But it was still a difficult thing for me to do.

She coached me through it, and I’d relax enough, but when it started flowing again, I’d seize up immediately. After doing this three or four times, she got frustrated with me and stood up again. “What are you doing?” I asked.

“Get up.” Cautiously, I did so, and she hugged me. She didn’t tickle me or anything, she simply hugged me. Tight. Close. Close enough that her body put a significant strain on my bladder, and with her legs between mine, I couldn’t cross my legs. I couldn’t fidget and dance. I couldn’t grab myself. Combined with the feeling of her cold, wet legs against my relatively dry ones, and the innocent, impish glow in her eyes, I let go.

The pee flowed from me like a faucet, and the warmth was incredible. It poured freely, and I felt it warm her pants back up. I felt the urine dripping out of my pants, into hers, and flowing back into mine. I felt it pour down the insides of my legs, over and around them, dribbling to add to her previous puddle. I was wetting both of us, and the feeling was fantastic. Our eyes stayed locked, my face was probably beet red, and yet we just stood there in an embrace, smiling. Enjoying. Loving the moment. The warmth still crossed between us and meandered around my legs and hers, lasting for at least another few minutes.

The feeling was incredible, even after the fact. So we stood there together, both dripping wet from each other’s fluids, trapping the warmth between us. “I won,” I whispered. She smiled her devious, impish smile.
NeuroNonsense NeuroNonsense
18-21, M
May 22, 2012