A female desperation story
I was driving my girlfriend back to her place. We had been out night clubbing and it was finally time to call it a night. Suddenly, looking over, I noticed that Cheryl was squirming uncomfortably in her seat. I asked her if anything was the matter. “Shit! It’s all the damn beer we must’ve drank. And now I’ve gotta pee. I’ve gotta pee real, real bad too!” She cried. “We’ll be at your place in a couple of minutes. It’s just one more exit.” I said, trying to reassure her. But as we approached that exit, traffic began to back up, and then came to a complete halt. There seemed to be an accident up ahead and no one was going anywhere. Cheryl began panicking, realizing we weren’t moving. “What am I going to do? I’ve gotta pee, I’m bursting!” She said, desperation in her voice.
I didn’t know what to say because for all I knew we might be here for a while. And this was a busy freeway so it wasn’t as though I could just pull over and let Cheryl find a bush. “I don’t think I can hold it in any longer. I don’t think I can! I’m going to piss in my pants!” She said, her face red with embarrassment as she pondered her predicament. This was a new car and I didn’t exactly relish having her drench my car seat with her urine. Luckily, there were a couple of towels in the back seat from a trip to the beach I had taken the prior weekend and I handed her the towels now and told her to put them on the seat. “Thanks Jenny, you’re a friend,” Cheryl said. Relieved that I was sympathetic. “This is so embarrassing!” “Don’t be embarrassed, Cheryl. We’ve shared a lot of stuff, and this’ll just be one more thing.” I patted her thigh.
It was true. Cheryl and I would tell each other all our secrets. We’d describe our sexual escapades in detail. And some of those escapades were pretty freaky. Once I even told Cheryl how I let a guy piss on me and how much I liked it. So it’s not as though peeing was something we hadn’t already talked about. “All right, I’m gonna pee now,” she said, looking at me with a shy, slightly humiliated expression. Looking down at the crotch of her jeans I could see the wet stain spreading from her crotch down her thighs. She was really getting wet down there, obviously Cheryl had a very full bladder. “I’ m so sorry Jenny,” she said, still apologizing. “Forget it. If you have to pee, you have to pee,” I said. When we finally got off the freeway and over to Cheryl’s apartment complex I gave her a raincoat so she could cover herself: She asked me to come inside with her. She probably didn’t want to say goodnight to me in this state. In the elevator little did all the others realize that my friend’s jeans were drenched with her own urine!
When we were up in her place she rushed into the bathroom. “Hey, let me take a look at you before you pull off those wet clothes,” I said. “What?! I’m embarrassed enough as it is, now you want to look at me standing in my piss soaked jeans?” she said, bemused. “Yeah, I do. I want to see what you look like,” I said in that sassy tone of voice Cheryl and I like to use with each other when we both know we’re being sexy. “Okay, here I am,” she said, now posing in her wet jeans, slowly turning around and bending over so I could see how thoroughly drenched was the seat of her jeans. Then she sat on the rim of the bathtub, flexing and spreading her legs so l could stare at the wet denim at her crotch and her thighs. I don’t know why, but there was something so sexy about seeing Cheryl like this, just having pissed in her jeans and still wearing them. Cheryl is real cute and has a killer body. She always looks terrific in tight jeans, especially wet ones, as I now saw! “You look so sexy,” I said to Cheryl, and there was a tone in my voice that both Cheryl and I recognized now as being frankly sexual. And there was an erotic luster in her eyes now as she approached me. “Say, if I had to pee so bad, you probably have to pee too, Jenny. You had as much to drink as me. And I didn’t notice you going to the bathroom to take a piss.” Cheryl was right. I did need to take a piss. “Hey, I peed in my jeans, why don’t you soak yours?” Cheryl suggested. “I want to see you get wet too.” “Okay, ‘ I said, feeling tree and bold. “I think I will.” I planted my feet wide apart and started peeing. There was a mirror on the wall, so not only could I feel myself getting all damp, I could watch the wet stain of my urine spread across the denim of my jeans. Cheryl had been sitting in the car when she wet, but I was standing. So the pee was running down my pantlegs, tinkling into a little puddle at my feet. Luckily, I had taken off my shoes when I walked into Cheryl’s place. “Wow! Check it out!” Cheryl said lustfully as she watched me dampen my jeans. It felt so nice and warm and moist down there, in between my legs, as I kept peeing. Finally I finished. Cheryl and I now stood opposite each other, staring down at our piss-drenched bottoms. Then, without saying a word, we rushed at each other, kissing and caressing, feeling each other up, running fingers across the wet denim. “Let’s take these wet jeans off, shall we ?” I said softly. “Let’s,” Cheryl purred, pulling down my zipper and reaching in to fondle my pissy-wet pussy!