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Time for a Badly Written Out Omo Story!

So, remember how I said that I have tons of stories? Well, here’s one.

So, this story is me in marching band. A bit of info: tall dark-skinned girl, with curly hair that reached my shoulders and was often pulled into a puff ball. Tomboy, always wearing sweats/jeans and flannel. On this typical day however, I was not the person in dire need for a toilet. My friend was.

Let’s call her Angie. Tiny Hispanic girl without a lick of an accent unless speaking Spanish. She had long, curly/wavy hair, brown eyes, glasses, and barely stood past 5’0” at this point in time. Average body, she wasn’t overweight but wasn’t skinny either. Just a bit of pudgy belly that’s honestly adorable.

A bit more information about her: Angie typically, by some ungodly reason can go an entire school day without so much as a glance at a bathroom. I would know, I’ve known her for 7 years and she’s only urgently needed one about 6 or 7 times. So, to see her desperate is a godsend.

So, for this story, we were in high school. I’ll add that we’re both instrumentalists and thus played in our school’s marching band, her playing the clarinet while I played the trumpet. We typically did a football game for our high school varsity team once a week, while almost every week we had a competition. Then there were “double-headers”, where we would have both a football game and a competition in one day.

On this day, reporting time was 9am in the morning. Me being the good friend that I am, I call Angie and asked if she wants a coffee, because I’m on my way getting one. She said yes, got her a large. Got to school and she finishes it within ten minutes. No big deal, it was expected. We all arrive and go through today’s agenda: away football game in 2 hours, leave during halftime, arrive at competition, get home by midnight.

Not really surprised, honestly I expect it. Buses get there at 12:30, so we have a bit of time in between after a couple run-throughs. We get food, with her buying an iced tea and a water to wash the sugar out of her mouth. Both the water and tea are gone within an hour, and by the time we’re scheduled to leave we camp out in front of the school, waiting for the buses to arrive.

Did I mention that it’s incredibly hot on this day? Did I also mention how shitty the band uniforms are? Our uniforms are thick enough to trap heat inside in the summer, yet not thick enough to act as insulation in the winter. The band parents pass out water to all of us, Angie grabbing a couple.

Finally, the buses arrive. The school is roughly about a half hour away, and I sit with Angie. Normal conversation, nothing out of the ordinary. It’s at the tail end of the bus ride that I notice her a bit tenser than usual, wincing when zipping up the band uniform (they don’t stretch at all; sitting down in them is a pain because it typically just cuts into your body). “Are you okay?” I asked.

She blushed a bit. “I’m fine.”

I left it at that. Didn’t pry, didn’t ask. We finished changing and after the bus stopped, got off and heading to the game. For away games, we perform before the game unless a special request is made (such as the away team not having a marching band or some sort of halftime show), so we were asked to fill in for them. We warm up and get on the bleachers, not really allowed to play because we’re using the show as our warmup for the competition later that night.

I sit with Angie, and she’s quiet. A lot more than usual. She’s also a lot tenser than earlier, not saying anything and simply keeping to herself. “Are you sure everything’s okay?” I ask.

Allow me to describe the field. It’s fucking huge and a bit of a ways away from the high school, so there’s concession stands and bathroom (read: port-o-potties) on both sides. Today just so happens to be this high school’s Senior Day, so it’s packed with families and whatnot. She’s sweating bullets so, in concern and curiosity, I ask her, “Do you need something to drink?”

She stiffens immediately and vigorously shakes her head before stammering, “No! I mean, I…I’m good. I had a bit of water earlier when we first sat down.”

No, she didn’t. She hadn’t had anything since the bus ride, and I know the large coffee, iced tea, water bottle, and two smaller bottles of water earlier were starting to go through her. So, I decide to be a bit of a bitch and ask, “I had a lot to drink, I’m gonna head to the bathroom. Do you need to go?”

I can’t even begin to tell you how many emotions went through her eyes when I said that, and that right there told me that her bladder was, if not full, at the very least filling up enough to be of mild concern. Part of her wanted to say yes, while the other wanted to stay put. Guess what side won out?

“I’m fine. I don’t need to go.” Lies, but I left it there and went to the bathroom. Admittedly, if she had gone one of us would’ve been shit out of luck because I left to go pee around the middle of the first quarter, and the marching band leaves during the middle of the second quarter to warm up and prepare to march onto the field. I get back right as we are packing up to head onto the track surrounding the field, and Angie looks worse for wear. Typically, she’s a lot more hyper, but right now she’s quiet as hell and keeping to herself.

As we’re walking onto the field the band parents are handing us cups of water to drink before we go onto the field (right now it’s about 85 degrees, or roughly 29 in Celsius) and they won’t let us go until we finish it, so we do. Angie takes hers like it’s a damn shot and chucks the cup in the trash before putting on a face, marching to her section.

So, from that point we’re simply warming up, playing parts of the show, etc. About two minutes left on the scoreboard we stand on the track, waiting for the players to be done with the first half so we can perform. We march on in a block, with it going by grade: seniors, juniors, etc. Angie’s standing next to me, and she’s fidgeting. It looks more like her being impatient, but to the trained eye it’s clear she’s feeling full. She’s shifting from foot to foot just a tad while fiddling with her clarinet.

Finally, we perform, and let me tell you, our show this year had a TON of kneeling, running, etc. Keep in mind earlier I said how our uniforms don’t stretch, so the material digs into your skin. The show is eight minutes long, and after we perform we march off to load the buses immediately and to use the bathroom when we get to the next high school. We get on the bus, and drive to the next school.

Now, this ride is about 45 minutes long. Angie is clearly fidgety; she’s rocking back and forth and has her hands somewhat in her lap. I ask her again if she’s okay and she insists that she is. Then we hit a hard, hard bump and she gasps out loud before clawing at her uniform, saying she’s hot and wants a bit of fresh air before we march again. Okay, fair, I don’t pry.

Halfway there, re run into traffic. She’s being way too obvious at this point, and I simply watch in silence while increasingly growing turned on. We get there an hour later, having barely enough time to get ready to perform. We’re told that we’ll use the bathrooms after, which is not going to end well; we’re the third to last band, so we can’t wander too far because the second band just gets to the sidelines while the last band performs. We quickly put our instruments away and the vast majority of kids haul ass to the bathrooms or getting food. Angie and I are captains, so we straggle behind to make sure everything’s okay with our respective sections. All five of the kids in her section hands her their clarinet so that they can rush to the bathroom (she’s known for never needing the bathroom, so they just assumed), and she’s squirming like hell. Her legs are crossed and she just can’t seep to get comfortable. By this point in time, it’d be stupid to rush to the bathroom because everybody is already in line, so she’d have no chance in getting in one until after the awards.

Finally, everybody comes back. Her section takes their instruments from her, and the second they do I notice her frantically unzip her uniform (it’s two layers, a jacket over an overall-type pants that zip up in the front) and sighing in relief. It’s still warm out, so the band parents once again hand out cups, and she once again chugs it.

Boring part of it is sitting through awards. She sat near family so I didn’t really get a good look at her, but the awards lasted for about 75 minutes before we closed (about 16 bands performed, and there were a lot of awards and scores such as best drumline, best color guard, etc.), so we ended roughly on schedule (we got to the football game before around 1ish, the game started at 2, we performed at 4:30, left at 5:15, got stuck in traffic until 7:30, performed at 8:10ish, last band performed at 10:15, awards started at 10:45, and ran until midnight).

I finally meet up with Angie who’s looking entirely too anxious to leave. “I’m hungry,” she says to me, grabbing my hand and pulling me from the crowd. “Can we get food?”

I know why she wants to go. The bathrooms are right next to the concessions. Luckily, we need to leave right away because it’s so late, so the band parents had already brought food for us to eat. We grab food and drinks and board the bus again. Of course, people are being asses and using chairs as tables for plates so there are less seats. I let Angie sit in my lap as we sit by the window.

In order for both of us to be comfortable I basically wrap my arms around her so that she stays steady, which means putting pressure on her bladder. The moment I do this she winces and crosses her legs tightly (by this point we’re out of uniform, both of us in shorts and a t-shirt). I say nothing for the most part.

About five minutes in, she gets a phone call with her parents asking me to take her home. Sure, I don’t mind. We’re gonna get home after 1 in the morning, so I didn’t mind in the slightest. But that meant waitng even longer, because I typically help unpack everything, and that takes about twenty minutes.

Anyway, another few minutes pass and she begins to tremble on and off. There’s times she’s still yet tense, other times she’s squirming like fuck. She slips a bit after a bump, and I naturally tense my arms to catch her. I push a decent amount on her bladder, and she gasps loudly while grabbing herself.

“Are you sure you’re fine?” I ask. “It looks like you need to…”

“Don’t say anything,” she cuts me off as she rips her hands away. “I’m…fine…” this is said while she’s tense as fuck and rocking back and forth in my lap.

I shrug, smirking. “Do you mind handing me my water, then?”

Of course, that fucks with her hard. She grabs it out of my bag and moans, “Oh, fuck,” from feeling the condensation, tossing it onto the seat next to us. She grabs herself again and wheezes, “Fuck, I need to pee damn it!”

Finally! With her saying it she finally gives in, whimpering while rocking her hips back and forth. She’s grinding into me pretty hard, rubbing against me every so often to work me up pretty damn good. “How much time left before we get to the school?” she whispers.

“About a half hour left.”

That only seems to make her need to go more, as she clutches herself. I sit there, not knowing what to say until a few moments later she goes, “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”, grabs my hand and places it over her crotch, pressing her hands over mine while grinding into it.

Cue me overwhelmingly horny and turned on beyond belief at this point. I’d never thought I’d see the day where Angie’s dying for a piss, yet here she is, grinding into my hand while sitting in my lap. Unconsciously, I begin massaging her with the palm of my hand while relishing the sight in front of me.

Allow me to tell you how the hell we didn’t get caught. It was dark as hell inside the bus, and we were near the very back. Plus, the majority of kids were already knocked out from exhaustion. We’d only get caught if someone heard or was looking for it.

Here we are, with her grinding into my moving hand when I feel a spurt against my fingers. She moans and curls into a ball, rocking her hips harder. “Help, please,” she pleads.

Well, she asked.

Instantly I pull her against me even more and tilt her head to mine, kissing her. At first she’s understandably shocked to hell and back, but after a desperate grunt she kisses back. I rub my hand faster against her, making sure to get enough friction through her shorts.

I move from her lips and begin kissing her neck, urging her to keep quiet. She grabs at my legs and cocks her head to the side to give me more access, biting her lip. Did I ever mention that she’s bi, and we’ve had a crush on each other for the longest time? At this point we’ve had unresolved sexual tension like you wouldn’t believe, hence this situation happening like it did.

Anyway, after a lot of heavy petting I decide to risk it and slip my hand underneath her shorts into her slick folds, rubbing her clit while putting a bit of pressure on her bladder to see how she responds. She shivers and grinds harder into my hand, whispering words in Spanish. “Si bebe, no te atrevas a parar.” So, I keep going.

I never fully bring her over the edge because I don’t want her to cum and accidentally lose it, plus it’s just too good to be true for me and I don’t want it to end. By the time we get back to the school she’s leaked a couple more times and can’t keep a hand from between her legs, whether it’s mine or hers. I help pack everything away, with her standing to the side squirming and shuffling around.

I rush a bit and finish five minutes early, hurrying her to the car. Angie lives about ten minutes from the school so it’s not horrible, but right then and there it felt way too short. So, I stop for gas. It’s at this point that she’s on the verge of tears and is frantic as fuck in the car; both hands between her legs, legs moving back and forth, constant crossing and re-crossing, whimpers and moans, and so on. By the time I pull off she gasps again, louder than ever. “I can’t hold it, I’m gonna go, I’m gonna pee!” she whines, looking around as if there’s something she can go in.

“You better not piss in my car,” I warn.

She moans again and rips her shorts down, as if to squat down. “Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl. She finally lifts her shorts back up and continue holding it in, but now I hear steady, sharp leaks. By the time I get her to her house she’s so full it’s insane. She steps out of the car, makes it two steps and the damn bursts. She moans loudly it concerns me, until I notice the HUGE mess. A puddle already is forming, and she looks so relieved.

She takes about two minutes to finish, before inviting me inside and us finally sleeping together.

lavender-omo

Fucking amazing hold last night

My boyfriend loves to tease me and he’s been really out of the loop on some very fun holds lately so when he finally had me in person again he was very interested in having fun. So we talked it over and I decided to do a hold while we hung out with friends. Several slices of pizza and a ton of soda later, I was getting pretty desperate.

It was getting bad and I had trouble sitting still, not helped my his playful pokes and grabs as I struggled to appear composed. It wasn’t going to work much longer, I kept having to cross my legs and stretch to make room for my bladder. When I started to bounce I knew it was bad, normally I don’t even get there in public… But this was bad. I quietly excused myself and tried to text him but I was too desperate. I flopped onto my bed and called him in to say goodnight but when he got in the room and saw me squirming on the bed he knew the real reason.

I was at a solid 9.5, so full I was frantic but I knew I could hold for maybe 30 more minutes if I really committed and fuck did I commit.

He told me I had to wait a few minutes until he was done hanging out with our friend but he stayed on the bed with me, tickling me and pressing hard on my full bladder. It was amazing but I was nearing my limit. I was begging and gasping for him to finish me off and let me go. I was so desperate I could feel myself just barely holding back the flood. And then our friend walked in and I stopped moving entirely.

Somehow I managed several sentences, legs tightly crossed that seemed as though I was just feeling tired until she had left at which point I grabbed myself and wiggled and kicked so hard just to stop the slow trickle that was escaping. I was panicking. But it felt like heaven.

He put my hands above my head, pressing my tummy and bladder strategically looking for the most tender spot to torment me and holding me down in place with his body and other hand. At this point I was soaking wet with arousal and so desperate I wasn’t able to even breathe properly.

He started to tease me, not quite touching my clit for long stretches then not letting up at all. I have never felt so conflicted as my bladder pulsed and I felt myself get closer and closer to orgasm, I came so hard I pushed my body into his fingers and I lost a huge spurt of pee. I cried out, so embarrassed and overwhelmed that my bladder would give up now. Not yet… So I tightened my legs around his hand and stopped the spray.

He smiled, nowhere near as mortified by the event as I was. “So you can hold it a little longer now right?”

I just about came again just hearing him. I think in all maybe twenty more minutes of teasing happened before we started get into things a bit more seriously. He wanted me to ride him for a minute so I tried… I was shaking and struggling just to move and once on top I felt his hard dick pushing into my bladder and there just wasn’t room, he could feel it too… I was so full it was bulging so hard… I barely made it but the position worked as a plug of sorts. Which would not do for him. I was told to lean over the bed, a brutal feeling. I was nearly peeing on the carpet in my room, I felt it running down my leg. He fucked me from behind and some thrusts felt so much like they’d burst me wide open.

At this point I was in heaven but if I wanted to keep myself full until he came I knew I had to move. I was in pure bliss, absolutely fucking lost in it but I managed to tell him I needed to move and he let me but I had to do it without any help. I struggled again, actually a fucking 15/10 now, slowly leaking with each breath and absolutely fucking soaked with arousal to the point I couldn’t tell the difference. I slid onto my back and he lifted my legs to fuck me, pushing my thighs into my bladder.

I came for maybe the fifth time, squirting and losing control intermittently but not much… I held tight. He came hard and fell onto my stomach and bladder, almost making me explode and begged and begged him to let go. He finally did but I was so desperate that I had to take a moment to be able to stand. I wanted so much to just let go and flood any and everything underneath me but I had to get myself together. It took forever to make it to the bathroom and I fucking burst as soon as the door closed, I was holding and twisting right up on I sat down on the toilet…. So yeah… I had fun ♡

myblog2121

thefemalebladderphenomenon

w o w .

gurl-powerz-deactivated20170316

tremblingstockings

She's Going to Burst!

(The descriptions still need work.)

She told me I’m too goody-goody in the bedroom. Most of the time she wants a gentleman but once in a blue moon she’s in the mood for something else.

“I want you to hurt and humiliate me and we’ll have fun!” were her exact words. She elaborated with a list of things like dog collars and horse whips but my fantasies were headed in a different direction.

I came up with a naughty plan but didn’t tell her the whole thing at once. I said we’d carry on like it was a normal day but she had to follow my rules. She didn’t know where things were going but she was ready to play along.

I told her to change into something nice with a short skirt and we’d go out.

“The first rule is you have to swallow anything I tell you to.” I demonstrated by taking out a juice box and inserting the straw between her shapely smiling lips. “You can nullify this and all other rules by telling me the safeword,” I added as she sucked on fruit juice.

She took the straw out of her mouth long enough to ask one question. “Do you pick it or do I?”

She choked with laughter when I said the safeword was “burst.”

We needed groceries so that was the first thing we did. I promised her things would get more interesting. She was perky and optimistic.

When we carried the bags to the car I made her stop to perform a favor. I took a water bottle out of the plastic and pointed it at her mouth.

“Swallow.”

She looked annoyed but unscrewed the cap and started drinking.

“Faster!” I said. I got a kick out of watching the muscles in her neck work as she glugged it down. When she finished she was struck with a look of embarrassment. Some people were staring at us.

“Another!” I commanded. I was gonna make sure more people stared. “Drink this one like you’re dying of thirst.” I took off the cap and physically stuck the neck of the bottle into her face. She drew back a bit then eagerly wrapped her lips around the plastic. She made exaggerated sounds of quenched thirst as she drank the water so quickly and sloppily that some of it ran down her neck and made her top wet.

“Good girl!” We continued to the van.

At home she started walking to the bathroom before the groceries were put away. I grabbed her wrist.

“Uh-uh-uh!” I scolded. “That’s the second rule. No going to the bathroom without asking me for permission.”

“Can I have permission?”

“Not yet.”

After we’d put away the groceries she asked again.

“No,” I answered again.

“How do I get permission?”

“You’ll find out.”

She wrapped her arms around me and gave me a passionate kiss.

“Good girl! You can’t go to the bathroom though.”

Her enthusiasm was waning but she perked up again when I said we should go on a romantic picnic. She wasn’t hungry yet so I suggested we take a long walk to work up an appetite.

I used the bathroom before we left. She just stood outside the door with her arms crossed.

We selected a picnic site and packed everything up and took to the bike trail. I spotted the bathrooms before she did.

“I know what you want,” I said and I motioned to the silhouette of the woman in the dress.

“Yes I want it,” she said.

“Do you really need to?”

“I do.”

“Then you need to ask.”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“That’s poor grammar.”

“May I go to the bathroom?”

“Still not right.”

“May I please have permission to go to the bathroom?”

“No.” I had something else in mind. I took hold of her hand and led her to the drinking fountain. She started to struggle when she noticed where we were headed. “You have to swallow,” I reminded.

“Really?”

“That’s the rule. If you’re sick of funny rules you know what to say.”

“No I won’t use the safeword. I want to see how this plays out even if it’s no good.”

Once she relented I was able to bend her knees and press her head down to where her mouth could receive the stream of water. I turned the knob and made sure she got a nice long drink.

“People are looking,” she whispered accusingly when I released her. She used her wrist to wipe away the water that was running down her chin. “They think you’re hurting me or something.”

“Then explain it,” I whispered back. “Try to sound frisky.”

“Don’t mind us,” she said to the elderly couple who were walking by. “We’re just playing.”

“That was nice,” I said. “You got the flirtatious sound without laying the sexiness on too thick.”

“Now may I have permission?”

“Not yet.”

Before long we were at the picnic spot. We were both pretty hungry by then but she had a more urgent need. I could tell by the way she was skipping and hopping around as we set down the blanket and got the food ready.

“What do I have to do to go to the bathroom?”

“I’ll tell you later. Try not to ask so often.”

“It’s hard not to!”

“Don’t get testy.”

We sat on the blanket. She fidgeted a little but got comfortable and seemed to forget her need. We had a nice dinner and didn’t talk about bathrooms. I was sure to remind her before we packed up.

“Do you want more to drink?”

“No.”

“But you’ll drink it anyway. Watch while I pour.”

She snapped her legs together and shuddered as she watched the thin stream of yellow liquid slowly flow into the clear plastic cup.

“Those are such nice liquid sounds,” I teased. “Wouldn’t it be great to hear that happening under you while that shapely bottom of yours was perched on the comfortable horseshoe seat of a public toilet?”

“What do you want me to do?” she asked in a desperate tone. “I’ll do anything. Not literally anything but…” she trailed off as she shifted into a different sitting position.

“I won’t let you use the bathroom here but you may use the one at home.”

“That’s a long walk,” she complained as she uneasily stood up.

“What’s the matter? Think you’ll have an accident?”

“No.”

“Did you already have an accident?”

“No!”

“Why don’t I check?” I only brushed her leg but she jerked away forcefully.

“No!” she repeated in a more playful way.

“I bet the seat of your panties is all wet.”

“No!”

“Then show me.”

We ran around a bit and once more attracted attention to ourselves. I brought the chase to a stop by saying “I can make you drink the rest of the lemonade.”

“No! There’s most of a liter bottle left!”

“Show me your panties or I’ll make you swallow every drop.”

She spun around and flipped up her skirt and her white cotton underwear caught the bright summer sunlight.

“See?”

When the skirt fell and she stood up straight again she noticed a woman with two little kids was looking at us wide-eyed.

“Sorry! I got a little too frisky.”

“Good girl!” I said to my red-faced sweetheart.

“This is no good!” she said in a not so frisky voice as we were walking back home.

“What did you want?”

“Something kinky.”

“That’s what this is.”

“This isn’t what I asked for.”

“You asked me to hurt you.”

“Yes!”

“Well doesn’t it hurt?” I asked as I motioned to her crotch.

“Yes but that’s not it.”

“You also asked me to humiliate you.”

“Exactly!”

“But aren’t you humiliated? You’ve made a few scenes in public.”

“Yes but it’s not kinky.”

“I think it is. I’ll tell you one thing I’m having fun.” That was about when we passed the other set of bathrooms.

“What do I have to do to go to the bathroom? Flash my panties again?”

“No.”

“If we go over into the woods I’ll flash my breasts.”

“I still won’t let you use that bathroom.”

“I’ll flash everything! I’ll take off my panties. I’ll bend over a tree trunk. You can go to town! Just please let my go to the bathroom!” She accentuated the end of the sentence by stamping her foot like a child throwing a tantrum. It was a natural motion because her legs had been jumping and dancing around a lot lately.

“You’ll use the bathroom at home.”

“That’s such a long way to walk!”

“We’ll take a shortcut.”

The shortcut took us to a babbling brook.

“You jerk! You’re doing this on purpose!”

“Of course.”

“Where’s the bridge?”

“We can step over this creek.”

“You’ve gotta be kidding me!”

“Just a hop.”

“I don’t think I can do it.” Her legs were plastered together and she was rocking from side to side.

“Then I know what to do.” I put the bags down and walked to her.

“What are…” she stopped saying words and let out a shrill squeal instead as I hoisted her up off the ground.

“Are you all right?” I asked the woman in my arms.

“Yes.”

“Still dry?”

“Yes! Just carry me across the creek already!”

I did and then I crossed over again and back for the bags. She had her hands over her ears.

“Can’t stand the sound of flowing water?” I asked as I took her hands by the wrists.

“You’re touching me so much today,” she said. I was starting to feel like I’d gone too far but then she took my hands and pulled me close to her. “Don’t stop.” I could feel her squirm uncomfortably as we hugged.

“It’s not that far to get home,” I said. “I’ll race you! We’ll each take one bag and if you get home before me the rules are all null and void.”

“If you get home before me?”

“Then you’ll need permission to enter the house.”

She didn’t stop to think about it. She just ran. I’ve never seen those legs work so hard. But my legs are longer and stronger. I was waiting on the back porch as she trotted up panting and shaking.

“You must be parched. Have some more lemonade.”

She didn’t fight it but she wouldn’t put her hands on the bottle. I fed her like a baby as she laid on her side.

“That’s enough,” she said after swallowing about a quart and standing up.

“No it’s not!” I grabbed her around the waist and made her sit on my lap on the steps.

“If I have an accident it’s gonna go on you,” she pointed out.

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take,” I said as I inserted the neck of the bottle into her mouth.

This time she was the one who noticed we were being watched. As I lowered the empty bottle she hollered “We’re just being lovey-dovey!” to our neighbors across the street.

“Good girl!”

“May I use the bathroom in the house?”

“Not yet.”

“How do I earn permission?”

“Keep being lovey-dovey.”

I sat on the porch swing and invited her to take a seat next to me. She sat down and leaned over and practically melted to my body. She kissed me all over my head and neck and ran her arms up and down my body. I’ve never seen (or felt) her so lively before. Her legs were kicking in the air.

“Good girl!” I said when she slowed down and put one hand between her legs. “You have permission to enter the bathroom.”

She shrieked in delight.

“You may use the toilet once you perform one final act.”

“No! What? Oh whatever let’s just go inside.” She ran in place as I took out my keys and unlocked the door. She ran to the bathroom and waited inside. She had an urgent look in her eyes as she stared at the toilet without a word.

“What do I have to do?” she asked as I came in with some old towels. I covered the floor in case of an accident.

“You can use the toilet after I do.”

“That’s all?”

“But you have to watch. Get down on your hands and knees. There’s a good girl.”

She was on one side of the toilet staring at the bowl she desperately wished she was on top of. I stood on the other side. I felt a little silly about what I’d planned but I still followed through. I unzipped my fly and opened the seam in my boxers. The look on her face when I pulled out my manhood assuaged my embarrassment.

“I’ve gone too long without seeing that,” she said.

“The toilet?” I asked with a smile.

“I meant your penis but that’s true too.” She changed her position so she was sitting with her legs crossed and both her hands pressed between her thighs. “I’ve got a feeling between my legs that’s killing me and I don’t know how much of that is one thing and how much is the other.”

“Good girl!”

“I’m not just saying that you know.”

“Get back in your stance. Your legs have to be apart and your hands have to be on the floor.” She obeyed.

“Good girl,” I said again as I began relieving myself. I’d had a long wait too. I didn’t mean to make a sound but I exhaled loudly as the pressure in my bladder dropped.

I heard other sounds that weren’t coming from me. My lover squeaked and then whimpered softly. Those sad longing eyes were focused on the jet of liquid I was emitting with such pleasure. It hissed against the side of the bowl and made deep rumbling liquid noises as it turned the water yellow and foamy.

I managed to stop moaning but she started. Her breasts rose and fell rapidly as she let out this long pained sound. All four of her limbs trembled. My stream kept going strong. She had a while to wait.

“You can always say it” I reminded.

“I’ve waited too long to quit,” she said in a voice somewhere between a sob and a whimper. “Keep going.”

I did and boy did it feel good. It was just winding down when she made me jump.

“It’s coming out!” she screamed. There were a few drops on the towel below.

I was so startled I lost control of my direction and made some drops of my own. She closed her eyes and scrunched up her face.

“Good girl! Still in position.” My bladder had attained a comfortable feeling of near-emptiness so I cut off my stream. “You’re such a good girl you have permission to pee in the toilet!”

Before the sentence was over she was sliding her panties down her thighs. There was a dark yellow spot shaped like a figure eight but the rest of the cotton was white and dry. I offered my hand and she took it. I pulled her off the floor as she glued her thighs back together and thrust her other hand in for good measure.

A golden drop was hanging off one of her knees at the end of a long liquid trail. More spots had appeared on the towel and new ones were showing up by the second. When she neared a standing position I saw two more drops slide down from behind her hand. The flesh was white she was applying so much pressure but something was still leaking through.

Between her efforts and mine we managed to get that pert little bottom of hers onto the toilet seat. I put my penis away and zipped up.

She moaned again and the volume and feeling were now multiplied by ten. But even the pleasureful sounds coming out of her lungs couldn’t muffle the liquid sounds coming out of her bladder. She went at that toilet bowl like a sandblaster. The hissing was intense. So was the roar of the urine rushing into the toilet water. It was like the rapids of a wild river.

Her eyes were closed and her lips were parted. She had an expression of utter pleasure that I’ve never seen on her face. Not in such good lighting at least.

Once her moaning abated she opened her eyes and noticed the extreme interest I was taking in her body and the liquid flowing from it. She spread her legs wide and scooted back so I could take in the view. I’ve fired urine off that forcefully a few times in my life but I never thought I’d see that kind of pressure from a woman. It was like a raging golden waterfall.

“Oh God! I thought my bladder was going to burst inside me!” she said as her stream slowed. I was staring at our combined output. I’ve never seen toilet water so yellow.

“Thanks for not saying ‘burst’ before we were done. I’m sorry I made you suffer for my gratification.”

“Are you kidding? I loved every minute!”

“That’s impossible!”

“I was acting…to some extent. Thanks for the lovely day.”

“It was a lovely day,” I concurred.

“It’ll be a lovely night too if you’re in the mood.”

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“Admit it, bitch. You wish that you were tasting it rather than letting it wash down the drain. You wish it was splashing into your mouth. Ask Angela here. She knows. Someday you’re gonna ask. And maybe I’ll let you taste then. If you’re really good to me.”

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