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With fewer than 25 seconds to go, the door to the bathroom finally creaked opened. The caps player waiting second in line still stood holding her skirt firmly between her legs with both hands, not caring who saw or watched. Her face registered cautious optimism when the door finally opened, but the face of the girl poised to enter the bathroom next shown with gleeful radiance; shining as if she had just finished a marathon. The red bow atop her hair bobbed cheerfully as she rushed towards the door, knowing she would make it, but her body responded too quickly to the sudden availability of a toilet. Her bladder began opening in anticipation before she had even made it through the bathroom door. As she turned to close the door, I caught a glimpse of an expression of anguish replacing the joy on her face as clearly as I saw a not-so-slow trickle of pee replacing the dryness of her grey track pants. The soaked fabric clung to her legs, noticeably outlining the now-wet panties she wore under it moments before the hard wood of the door blocked my gaze.
The pong observer with the green cup, who had previously been blocked from using the bathroom, interrupted my thoughts when she wandered into view from the kitchen. Her eyes were glued to the bathroom even before she set foot in the great room, but upon seeing the line, she slowly changed her course and walked over to the card table. She stood observing the game with her back to me, her knee-length black ruffled skirt swishing restlessly as she shifted weight from one leg to the other and back again. Fishnet leggings cover those legs, terminating in a pair of open-toed black high-heels. Suddenly the rustling of her skirt stopped and she froze with her weight still shifted to the right. A pencil thin line of liquid fell from between her legs. Undoubtedly, she was absolutely flooding whatever she wore under that skirt, for, in addition to the thin waterfall, two or three times as much pee was flowing out of the open toe of her right heel. It formed a mini river delta in the thin carpet as it spread out under the seat of one of the card players. From my position behind her I couldn't see her legs well, but I knew her inner thighs must be very warm indeed. However, mere moments after she lost – or perhaps gave up – control, she managed to regain it. She had regained control so quickly in fact, that no one in the room except her and I knew what had just happened. But both of us also knew that once the flood gates are opened, they are not easily shut for long.
All hell broke loose with five seconds to go. I lost track as women bolted towards the front and rear doors. Some crouched down on the floor of the great room. A few did nothing at all and just continued sitting or standing in place; apparently too drunk to either comprehend or accept what they knew was about to happen. And one, my girlfriend, lay passed out and completely oblivious to her desperate situation except, perhaps, in her dreams.
The caps player, still waiting not-so-patiently in line at the bathroom door, gradually lost her struggle. She felt intense heat between her legs as hot pee slowly filled her urethra despite her best efforts to hold it in. Her hands still held her skirt bunched against her panties as the pee began its unhurried journey through her clenched fingers to the floor.
Those who had waited until this moment to head for the exits were too late, I knew. Most fled from my view before they lost control, but I knew they would be uncontrollably leaking as they scrambled down the stairs and into the yard. The blond card dealer didn't even make it to the doorway; she left the table like lightening and sprinted towards the kitchen door, but she slipped in a wet patch on the carpet and fell sprawling on her stomach. She looked at me with eyes wide and full of panic as she reached towards the zipper on her jeans and began struggling to get it down. Lying on her stomach made this quite difficult, but rolling onto her back was the last action she took dry. The urgency quickly faded from her movements, and she gave up altogether with her zipper only halfway down. Our eyes met for a few moments as the carpet below her faded to a darker shade, but then she cast an arm over her face, blocking her eyes.
Back at the card table, the pink-slippered girl was miraculously still in control, despite the continuous string of spurts she was letting out to relieve the pressure. However, the girl on her lap had evidently just reached the breaking point. She was heavily intoxicated and sitting on her friend's lap reminded her too greatly of sitting on a toilet; that thought was all it took for her to let go. A downpour of pee inundated her shorts and filled her friend's mostly-dry lap.
The girl beneath her was technically safe and probably could have held on, but she had just intentionally started to release another short burst when pee started flooding in from above. The liquid flooding her navel was warm and tickled slightly as it ran over her belly and into the cleft between her legs. She struggled to regain control of her own burst, but the pee felt so nice and warm, and she was tired of trying. Moments later, her own torrent joined that of her friend.
Across the table from the pair, the girl sitting on her boyfriend's lap went wide-eyed as she observed the chaos erupting around her, but her expression was one of amusement rather than fear. She lived at this house and had already changed into her fuzzy blue pajamas for the evening. Locking lips with her boyfriend, she began vigorously rubbing herself against his crotch as she let nature take its course. She held nothing back, and within moments both were soaked from the waist down.
Looking through the doorway to the kitchen, I saw one ingenious girl hop up and sit over the sink. She flipped on the faucet and started rinsing her beer cup even as she lost control over the sink. She didn't even stop talking to the three boys standing around her, and they were none the wiser to the fact that she was pissing uncontrollably in her clothes as she talked to them.
****
Beyond my visual awareness, a girl in a dark upstairs bedroom gyrated her naked hips frantically around a hard dick buried deep within her. Passion, heat and more than a few drinks filled the couple completely. Several minutes ago, she had felt a nagging urge to pee, but right now she cared far more about fucking the stud below her than using the bathroom; going to the bathroom could wait until they finished, she told herself. So, she had totally dismissed the urge to go as only a drunk person can; just as she and the boy, who she had met earlier that night, had dismissed using a condom once a five second search of his wallet had failed to locate one. Instead, they had agreed that he would warn her in time to dismount before he came.
At the ten minute mark her bladder began releasing its contents, ignorant of her desire to wait until she finished. A moment of sobriety accompanied its release, and the girl realized that piss, her piss, was now flooding past the boy's cock and onto his groin. Thinking quickly, she began faking an orgasm. Leaning back on her hands she moaned loudly, closed her eyes and began shaking her whole body; hopefully the boy would buy her deception.
In fact, he did; and her shivering body coupled with the feeling of her hot liquid rushing past his cock sent him over the edge instantly. He came immediately and uncontrollably with his shaft still sunk deep.
Still occupied with faking an orgasm and struggling to regain control of her bladder, the girl didn't even notice. When she finished, the boy quickly sat up, pushed her onto her back and kissed her. He immediately offered to eat her out. She laughed silently and agreed, knowing that he would be licking up her piss, but he too was laughing inside, because it would allow him to destroy the evidence and prevent her from realizing what had really transpired. But neither would be laughing in a few weeks.
****
In the great room, the caps player still stood outside the bathroom door. Throughout the ordeal she had managed to maintain as much control over her bladder as physically possible. She had never lost control outright, but had been slowly and continuously dripping for the past minute. Her panties were soaked, her skirt was soaked, her hands were soaked, her legs were soaked, her feet and shoes were soaked, and the floor was soaked; but she willfully ignored this as she continued to try to hold the leak to a trickle.
Beside me, I heard a faint hissing noise and looked down at my still-unconscious girlfriend. I jammed my hands beneath the elastic of her pants and slipped my fingers into her panties. They encountered a warm spray that saturated first her panties, then her pants, and then the couch upon which we sat. I played with her idly as she emptied the entire contents of her bladder without regaining consciousness.
A peaceful, relieved smile adorned her face as I picked her up and walked through the chaos in the house towards the door. On my way out, I walked past the girl with the green cup, who, upon seeing so many people lose control, had decided to let the rest out right where she stood. I stepped delicately around the puddle surrounding her on my way out. My girlfriend and I reached the door, then descended the steps to the street below and faded into the darkness in the direction of my apartment.
The End.
Why Does She Push My Buttons
My wife Sonja is an enchanting seductress, or put another way is a fucking slut that gives off a vibe that makes every man she meets want to breed her and put his seed inside her. She knows she has that effect on men and she enjoys it. She likes to display her body, playing her little flirtatious games and being the object of as many male fantasies as she can.
She is a Latin female so I guess that comes with the territory. I am not sure if that is part of their culture or if comes with that stupid idiotic Catholic bullshit they put in their heads that you can do whatever you damn well please and "God will forgive you". All you have to do is drink a little grape juice and say a few Hail Marys' and you can pretend like nothing ever happened.
I know I should not complain these are the same qualities that attracted me to her in the first place and a lot of the time I am incredibly turned on by the fact that other men are attracted to her. Even so she drives me crazy sometimes taking me to the highest highs and the lowest lows emotionally you can imagine. Like the song says "She'll take away your pain like a bullet through your brain."
To her credit she has tried to explain it to me on a number of occasions. Being very open and candid describing what she thinks and feels and how it feeds a part of her being that she does not understand and cannot always control.
She said she loves being a very bad girl, she loves giving every man she encounters a hard-on. Young, old, short, tall, skinny, fat it didn't matter. As long as he has a cock, she loves to tease it.
She said s
he always looks forward to the next lucky man who she will let play this game of tease and please. Determined to get the man's attention, bring him to his knees with lust and then leaving him hanging.
She said she loves to see what she can get away with, pushing the envelope partaking in a little bit of risk just enough to feel a rush. She loves it when she makes a man so uncomfortable that he can't speak. She loves that she brings out that sort of reaction in men.
She said more than anything, it thrills her to dress as slutty as possible and bask in the ogling and drooling of every man she passes. Wearing a revealing wardrobe makes her an entirely new and different person. She feels so free and open. These little things are enough to make her feel sexy and give her that little naughty feeling that she needs to get through the day.
She said she enjoys the game of risque dress-up to reveal more cleavage, or wearing practically see-through blouses, or wearing more skirts, really short skirt either bare leg or with stockings, and of course everything has to be tight fitting. Tight at the waist, so that it accentuates her hips and her firm and tight behind and complimented with the right pair of high heels.
