I keep replaying this fantasy over and over in my head. Each time it gets more detailed. I think I need to make it happen really soon.
I'd be in a kitchen. A really nice, spacious one, with a tiled floor.
The waste pipe in the cabinet under the sink would be leaking. I'd have tried my best to fix it (I am quite handy, you know), but at the end of my tether I would have called in a favour on a guy who has a great knack for fixing things.
I'd be wearing a pair of thick nude tights, on top of rich cotton white knickers with frilly elastic edging. The tights would be flattening my knickers close to my body - creasing the fabric in places.
I'd have a pair of white ankle socks poking out of my dirty white laced up converse sneakers. I imagine this happening on a morning off work in a home environment... so I wouldn't be wearing a bra, but would have pulled on a knee length slightly loose fitting blue denim dress. My hair would be pulled loosely into a messy pony tail, and I would have found little gold charm necklace and a bit of subtle lipstick to throw on too.
It would just be me and him in this place with the kitchen. I'd welcome him with a cup of tea. I'd have one in my hands too - it'd be my 5th that morning, and my bladder would be swollen and full. I wouldn't have peed since the evening before. I'd be at the point where my mind would be racing with instinctual urges to find a toilet (sometimes I need it so much, if I hold it for a long time I can forget that I want to hold it at all, and find myself on the way to the bathroom... I always manage to stop myself in time though).
The lowest point of my tummy would be big too. Only I would be aware of this, what with my dress hiding the bulge a bit, but it would make me very protective about having it knocked or touched. I'd need to pee so much that it would only take a slight nudge for me leak and possibly burst.
So this guy would pop his tea on the side, get on his knees, twist and slide onto his back, and pop his head and shoulders into the cupboard under the sink.
While he's under there, we would still chat away. He'd tell me about his new car he's working on, and I'd try my best to respond in an intelligent way, without giving away any hints that I'm distracted or in any way desperate to pee.
He'd ask me to hand him a tool from his box that's on the draining board of the kitchen sink, right above him.
So I'd stand over him to get to it, one leg each side of his torso. And although I wouldn't be able to see his face, I'd feel his movement all stop suddenly, realising how I was stood.
The chat and giggles would die suddenly, and it would be totally silent. At that point, I'd close my eyes, and let go of my tight rigid body. I'd feel my bladder instantly relax, and my first stream of pee escape. A split second spent soaking through my knickers, and then it would splash between my legs, missing my dress, but landing on the man's chest, instantly creating a dark patch on his grey t shirt.
I would then use every ounce of power in my body to hold in the rest of my pee. It would hurt so much trying to stop at this point, but I would want to make sure I was doing the right thing. There would be an awkward second where the guy wouldn't move, and neither would I. I would be shaking with desperation to let the rest of my pee out.
Then, his hands would appear from under the sink and would grab both of my ankles either side of his waist. He'd squeeze them really hard.
And that would be all the encouragement I need to absolutely saturate myself and him. I would push my pee out as hard as possible. It would hiss through my knickers and tights, running down my legs leaving a wet trail.
Some would head straight for my socks and shoes. The white cotton socks would be a darker with fluid and the canvas fabric of my converse shoes would soak up the pee too. Even the laces would be dripping. I'd feel amazing little puddles of pee collect around my toes in my shoes.
Other spurts would just cascade directly onto my guy. Splashing unevenly over his grey t-shirt. Little back-splashes darkening the denim of my dress. Wetting his bare arms and hands on my ankles.
The silence would be replaced by dripping sounds of my pee hitting the tiled floor of the kitchen. A big puddle growing underneath him and rolling out across the room between tiles.
Mid stream, he would slide out from underneath the sink, still holding onto my ankles. My heart would skip a beat, wondering what expression would be on his face.
As he appeared, he's look kinda stern, with a smile shining through his eyes rather than his mouth. My red flushed face wouldn't have much of a chance to exchange glances, because in a swift movement, he would reach up under my dress, grab the sides of my knickers, tights, and a handful of the skin of my hips in his hands, and force me to squat down on top of his crotch. I'd use my hands to hitch my dress around my waist at the front. He could then clearly see that my waterfall of pee would have a journey of just a couple of inches, between escaping my sodden knickers, and hitting his jeans. It would only be a few seconds of peeing, and his black jeans would be distributing my pee all over his boxers underneath.
His grip on my hips would be unrelenting until I finished peeing. We'd lock eyes as I pushed out every last drop. I'd be so relieved I'd probably go all wobbly and unbalanced. Thankfully, he'd sense this, and switch one hand to my ass. Grabbing me tightly again.
As soon as I'd find my balance, I would reach down and frantically rip a hole in my tights. It would be made much more difficult with them being very wet.
Hole ripped, I'd unbutton his jeans, and slide down the slippy zip. His jersey cotton boxers would be heavy and hot with my pee, and he'd be very hard and excited by this.
I'd free him from his boxers, and slip two fingers to my wet knickers, pulling them to one side, making way for him.
I'd lower myself down slowly at first, until the warm very damp fabrics of our underwear touched and he was completely filling me up.
Then we'd enjoy feeling this over and over, bouncing with my wet sneakers and socks either side of his hips, him helping me. Directing me with his grasp on my ass with one hand, and my hip with the other. Grasping so hard that it hurts.
I'd slip my right hand down the waistband of my tights, and into the top of my knickers - just before they part to the side. Then I'd slowly build myself up to an orgasm, enjoying the feeling of the wet cotton panties sticking to my hand. I'd wait until he was ready too, and everything would go blurry and glowing as we climaxed together.
I'd drop my knees to the floor, lean forward, and pull close to him, on the slippery wet kitchen floor, breathing heavily face to face, and enjoying the sticky feeling in my knickers.
xxx
