Wednesday, April 16, 2008

Maria and Lyn

Story courtesy of FREE

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By Lloyd, March 1996

They had been sitting on the beach all day; it had started out OK, when Lyn picked Maria up from her house at 9AM, and the two friends had set off to their special spot on a nearby island. The two girls had been going there for years and in a way this was just another trip, but THIS trip had taken on another less favourable connotation, and Maria didn't quite know what she could do about it. She was very worried about her friend and what Lyn had recently admitted to - something Maria had found very strange and, to think about it, disgusting. She couldn't quite say why, but she just didn't understand how Lyn could actually ENJOY pissing her pants. It was just sick.

Even when they had been younger and her friend had repeatedly peed in her pants, even though they were accidents, everyone had laughed at the poor unfortunate girl. It was to be years later that the now adult Lyn would tell all about how she had become addicted to pants-pissing and Maria finally realised that Lyn's "accidents" were not accidents at all. In fact, the only difference between Lyn's pants-pissing then and now was the fact that Lyn now planned her wettings.

So, now, here they both were on the beach, at 4:30PM and Maria was bursting. After crossing the short bridge from the mainland, the two friends had arrived at the beach at about 11AM and Maria had to pee badly. She had hopped from foot to foot, trying not to pee in her bright aqua swimsuit, besides, she had on a pair of tight denim cutoffs and she didn't want to get them wet, either - she had to get home in them after all. Lyn, on the other hand, didn't need to pee. She had already done it in the car! When Lyn picked her up, Maria noticed that Lyn sat on a folded towel covering the driver's seat. Lyn was
wearing a black lycra swimsuit with a tiny wrap-around floral skirt over it, that flipped up to reveal the bottom of her swimsuit and the tops of her thighs as she jumped back into the driver's seat. At the time, she thought nothing else of it than that Lyn was prepared for the drive home in a wet swimsuit. Lyn hadn't pissed her pants in Maria's presence since they were
both young and Maria reasonably assumed that Lyn had grown out of it as all girls do sooner or later. So when half-way to the beach, Maria announced that she had to pee, she was totally unprepared for Lyn's answer.

"Oh, I knew I shouldn't have had all that coffee this morning before you arrived."

"Why? What's the matter?" said Lyn.

"Because, now I'm bursting to pee and we're only halfway there. How am I going to last for the rest of the trip?"

"Well, I know what you mean, I'm busting, too, but I planned ahead and took precautions, so I'm OK."

"What do you mean?" asked Maria, completely mystified by her friend's comments and wondering how Lyn, who used to ALWAYS wet her pants, could last all the way, bursting, and not have a problem.

"What do you think this towel's for?"

Maria stared at Lyn from the passenger seat trying to adjust to what Lyn was saying. She sat there for many moments, saying nothing, looking at Lyn's profile, watching the concentration on her friend's face as she drove, and saw it change slightly as Maria became aware for the first time of a slight muffled hissing noise. She wondered for a second what it was, but the look of relief on Lyn's face, and the sudden realisation that the hissing was coming from between Lyn's parted legs, under her skirt, brought on a feeling of revulsion that hit her so swiftly, she didn't have time to think before she gave voice to it.

"Oh, yuk. How can you DO that? You're peeing in your swimsuit!"

"Yes, well, I told you I had come prepared." said Lyn, mildly discomforted by her friend's reaction. "It's not exactly the first time I've ever peed my pants in front of you!"

"No, but that was when you were just a kid - how can you still do it now?"

"Well, actually, I never stopped. I've always peed in my pants. I can't even remember when I started, to be honest. It must have been when I was very young, because I seem to have been doing it all my life.

"But doesn't it smell??!" said Maria, who had become intensely aware of and embarrassed by the strengthening aroma of fresh, strong urine now permeating the interior of the car. She was so sickened by the smell and thought of her friend peeing through her swimsuit into the towel, that she had to wind down the window and get some fresh air.

"Why'd you do that?" cried Lyn, "You'll let out all the air conditioning!"

"I'm sorry, Lyn, but I can't sit here with you just pissing in your pants like that. You know, the sound and the smell... - I just couldn't stand it.

Besides, now I have to go even more than I did before. Thanks a lot!"

Lyn started laughing at this and after a short while, when she started seeing something perversely funny about it, so did Maria, which very nearly had her wetting her pants as well, until she got herself under control enough to ask another question which had occurred to her.

"But won't the seat get wet?"

"No." replied Lyn. "I'm peeing slowly in bursts. That way, the towel absorbs most of it and the seat will only get damp from the contact with the wet towel. When I get home, I'll take the towel off the seat and it will be dry in no time at all. Then the only tell-tale sign will be the faint smell of dried pee."
Yuk, Maria thought to herself. How could her dear childhood friend be such a sicko! "I just can't believe you're doing this."

"And I can't believe you didn't know I still did this."

"Well, you never said you did, and I haven't seen you do it since we were kids. I thought it was just some sort of childhood phase, or something!"

"Well, of course I wasn't going to keep doing it in front of people, in public - even I can see that's not socially acceptable behaviour, although there ARE people who get a kick out of that, too!"

"Oh, yuk, you're not serious?!"

"Yes I am. It takes all kinds, you know."

"I'll say." said Maria, wondering how this conversation could ever have happened.

"Look, can we talk about something else? I'm going to wet MY pants in a minute, and I don't want to get my shorts all wet. Swimmers are another thing altogether, but I want to wear these home and I don't want them smelling of pee when I do!"

"Well, you can wash them out when you get to the beach, if you'd like." said Lyn, helpfully, and just a little hopefully.

"There's another towel on the seat behind you."

"NO!" yelled Maria, affronted and angry that Lyn could even suggest such a thing.

"I'm sorry" said Lyn, a little hurt. "I was just trying to help."

"Well the best way you can help at the moment is to drive like hell and get me to the beach!"

"Do you want me to stop? I could stop if you'd like."

Maria thought about this for a moment and the scene played through in her mind of squatting by the roadside, shorts around her ankles, trying to pull aside the crotch of her tight swimsuit and keep it out of the way while she peed, and she suddenly found herself thinking how it WOULD be easier to just pee through her swimmers. Horrified by the thought, she cast it from her mind like the piece of filth it was, and told Lyn to just keep driving. In the course of the next hour, Lyn chatted on about how she had suddenly at the age of about nine, become self-conscious and decided that she had better stop having "accidents", or people would start to catch on to the fact that
they were deliberate. So started years of development of a habit which eventually became an obsession and had been the cause of more than one failed relationship. All of which indirectly led to her obsession becoming worse as her focus shifted more and more away from boys towards pants-pissing. Lyn had become manic about the type of underwear she bought and the clothing she would wear over it. She would rarely go anywhere without planning just where and when she would piss her pants, and so could wear skirts or pants as the whim suited her, confident that the wetting would be appropriate to her attire and the situation.

Maria sat there in disbelief while the story unfolded and all but forgot her bladder as she tried to understand her friend's strange fetish. Maria still couldn't understand one specific thing: Why? She could understand (just barely) how it could be a reasonable thing to do if you really needed to pee and couldn't avoid pissing your pants. In fact, she had in the past, done just that when she thought no one would know and her skirt was long and full enough to successfully hide the wetness of her peed panties, but that was out of necessity and not at all pleasant, in spite of the fact that it had felt good to just let go in her panties. And there were those times when she had peed through her swimmers sitting on the hard sand on the beach in her young beach-girl days. But then, her swimmers were wet, and besides, the next rush of water up the sand would wash them out. No, she just couldn't understand why Lyn did it when she clearly didn't have to! Lyn even ENJOYED peeing in her pants and made a point of wearing thick white cotton panties under her skirt on days when she planned to piss her pants frequently, just so they would look good at the end of the day, let alone their smell! This also explained the fact that Lyn had only ever had black swimsuits.

So, here they were at the beach. On arrival, Maria had already leaked into her bright aqua swimmers and wet the crotch of her shorts a little, but the shorts had absorbed most of the wetness from the lycra and they were only a little damp. The small wet spot was not really noticeable as she ran down to
the water and she was thankful for the isolation of their favourite spot as she felt the warmth of her pee escape from the crotch of her swimsuit and cascade down her legs, just before she got to the water and covered up her indiscretion. With relief, she had then warmed the water around her for a
whole minute while she emptied her aching bladder. Although she disliked the concept, she couldn't help thinking how good it felt and the fact that it did feel different from peeing normally - the way her tight swimsuit held her together and created backpressure. She was pushing hard against the pressure, enjoying the sensations as the urine forced its way out through the tight material and into the cool water. As she forced out the last of the pee, and her bladder finally collapsed on itself, empty and spent, she came to her senses and waded out of the water, ashamed, not of what she had just done, but of the fact that she had enjoyed it so much!

Now, at 4:30, the day had worn on and the afternoon was becoming cool. Maria had been lying down enjoying the warm spring sun and had not noticed the temperature dropping until she had become somewhat chilled. So now she was sitting up, feeling cold and wishing she had gone into the water to pee once more while the day was warmer. The Coca-Cola they had brought with them had gone straight through her and she again badly needed to pee. Lyn, on the other hand, had not been into the water once! She always did like sitting in the sun and wasn't really all that interested in swimming, and so when she
had to pee, she just sat up, moved to the end of her towel, and peed through her swimmers into the sand! Sometimes, she didn't even bother to do that, and more than once, Maria had been talking to her when she noticed that same hissing sound, and looking down, saw Lyn's crotch, her legs parted wide, and
the hissing stream of pee shooting from the tight material into the growing wet patch in the towel. Maria was amazed how quickly the urine soaked through the towel into the sand underneath. And, now, when she was so in need of a good long piss, herself, Lyn, who was standing next to the picnic hamper,
drinking a last glass of Coke, began once again to leak through her swimmers.

While her pee poured out of the crotch of her swimsuit, darkening the material slightly and making it glisten in the still strong light, Lyn finished her Coke, and looked down at herself and the growing torrent pouring into the sand between her feet and splashing wet sand onto the insides of her calves and tops of her feet. She parted her legs and feet a little to avoid the splashing and gave Maria a view of the urine running down the insides of both her legs, then squatted down to pee hard straight through her crotch into the sand which could only just barely absorb it all as Maria watched the pee bubble and splash noisily.

Suddenly, it became too much for Maria and she started to feel her bladder lose its seal, as the first drops of her pee escaped from it and wet the insides of her labia. Her tight aqua swimmers held her together as before but as she got to her knees she felt the weak seal of her labia fail and the warmth contained between them leak out to soak the material of her swimsuit and warm her crotch. Maria could feel her bladder about to burst and she knew there was no point in trying to stop it - she had left it too late, and besides, she didn't really want to, now. Maria quickly shifted off her towel to kneel on the soft sand, when modesty or perversity reminded her of something from her youth she had forgotten all about. Maria remembered a day at the beach long ago when she was young, playing in the sand, building sand castles and totally absorbed in what she was doing, and had completely forgotten about peeing until it was almost too late. Then, needing to pee
but not wanting to leave her masterpiece, Maria had dug a hole, which to anyone else would have seemed like part of her work. Having dug the hole, she knelt astride the hole, and sat on her heels above the hole with her legs parted and went back to her work, peeing into the hole as she did, and filling in the hole when she was finished. Now, looking down between her legs and seeing the dark wet material there, with drops of urine escaping and making little rolled-up balls of wet sand under her, she felt more leaking from her, warming her crotch even more, and her mind was cast back to that long distant memory. As the late afternoon sun, shining full on her wet crotch, did its best to warm it further, she started digging, her pee now dripping from her crotch and wetting her hands and the insides of her forearms, and she started giggling at what she was trying to do. Lyn, finished peeing now, squatted facing her and started laughing at her antics, which didn't help Maria, who started laughing too. That was all she needed and her pee started pouring from her crotch, now wetting her hands.

Urine everywhere, Maria shuffled forward so her stream would fall straight into the hole and laughed uncontrollably as Lyn rewet her crotch with a little more urine her laughter had squeezed from bladder. Yet again, Maria was gripped with an uncontrollable urge to bare down on her distended bladder and
with a paroxism of bliss, pushed her pee out hissing and splashing into the little pool at the bottom of the hole, while little rivers of it ran from the two points of her buttocks into the sand on either side of the hole. The combination of pleasure and relief was so great that tears ran from Maria's
eyes to drip to the sand, to mix with the pee swirling there. As her flow subsided, Maria's fascination with her wetting was broken and she looked up at the smirk on Lyn's face. Looking into each other's faces, they both knew that Maria had discovered what Lyn had known seemingly forever, and that she
would never forget it.

As Lyn and Maria prepared to leave, they shared the last bottle of Coke and picked up their belongings, Lyn re-wrapping her skirt and Maria, after a moment of hesitation, pulling on her cutoffs, which immediately soaked up the excess wetness in her crotch and quickly darkened between her legs and up between her buttocks. On the way back home, both Lyn and Maria sat on folded towels which got very wet, and talked about when they would do it all again.


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