THE COLLABORATION SERIES

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P is for Pleasure
By Cherie Amour, June 1997

Lisa Walker took yet another sip from her water glass and tried to surreptitiously wipe her palms on her skirt. Speaking in front of large crowds was always an uncomfortable situation for her and today was no exception. As guest lecturer at the local Business Club, she had been expected to make a 15 minute speech on "Internet Resources for Woman-Owned Businesses." Speaking was bad enough but fielding questions from a horde of people she didn't know was giving her the willies.
As if to make things worse, her bladder was beginning to signal it's displeasure with the copious amounts of iced tea that had accompanied her lunch. Normally Lisa had more than adequate bladder control. She seldom wet herself, at least by accident, unless she was sick or on the few occasions when she had too much to drink. She often wet herself for pleasure but that was another story. Today's meeting had thrown her off guard, as her nervous tension made her down glass after glass of iced tea. Even now, with her bladder so distended that she was sure it would be visible--thank God for the podium between her and her audience--her thirst raged.
The speech was well received by the crowd and the question period seemed to go on forever. As she stood in front of the group, nervously shifting from one foot to the other, Lisa sent up a prayer to whatever deity is responsible for those things, asking for enough control to get out of the restaurant and into her car with her dignity intact.
Suddenly, Lisa felt a small spurt escape into her panties. "Damn," she thought. "I never should have worn thong panties and a garter belt. There's nothing down there to soak up the pee." As if in response to her thoughts, a drop of urine started a leisurely exploration of her right leg. It spiraled downwards and, as it reached her calf, she quickly rubbed her legs together to "destroy the evidence."
Still the questions continued. Several times, Lisa felt small drops of pee escape the confines of her now-soaked panties. It seemed to her that she must resemble some great over-sized cricket as she rubbed them together. Hoping nobody would notice, she leaned forward slightly and clenched her thighs together more tightly, managing to relieve the pressure for a few seconds. Soon she found herself getting wet for other reasons as her heartbeat began to accelerate with excitement. She felt her nipples becoming erect and crossed her arms in front of her on the podium to keep her audience from noticing her predicament.
Finally, the club's president stood to thank her and her increasingly distracted mind realized that the torture was coming to a close. With any luck, she would soon be in her car and on her way. Stop at the bathroom on the way? Not a chance. Lisa's tension cried out for release almost as loudly as her bladder. She kept a beach towel in the trunk just for such emergencies. As soon as she was away from the restaurant, she planned on letting go and thoroughly wetting herself.
By the time the thanks and last-minutes questions were over, Lisa was in serious distress. She grabbed her purse off the back of her chair, shook hands with the club president and hobbled, as quickly as she could, toward her car. The closer she got to her vehicle, the more she relaxed. She had just placed the towel on the seat and was preparing to get behind the wheel when she heard a voice calling her name.
She turned to see a plump, matronly looking woman approaching her rapidly. No help for it, she'd have to talk to the woman. Lisa turned from the car, closing the door and tried to arrange her face so she wouldn't look quite so desperate.
"Yes, what can I do for you?" she said. But she was thinking, "Get it over quickly you old bitch before I have an accident in front of everybody. "
And "everybody" it would be. The majority of the crowd was coming out of the restaurant in clumps of four or five. If something happened now it would be in plain sight of the entire business community. Lisa groaned inwardly and tried to be polite and helpful as the woman droned on about nothing in particular.
Suddenly, Lisa's control snapped. With a mortified cry of embarrassment, she felt the floodgates open. Soon pee was streaming down her legs on to the pavement at her feet. The matron's monologue was interrupted as she stood slack-jawed, watching Lisa.
"Serves you right, you old biddy. Never thought you'd see a show like this did you?" thought Lisa.
As the tidal wave slowed and then stopped, Lisa realized that she was the center of attention. Some looked disgusted, some sympathetic and did she really detect a hint of interest here and there? "Must be a few pissers in the crowd," she thought.
"Oh, you poor dear," trilled the matron. "Here, let me help you get back inside."
Was that a hint of real interest or just sick fascination? Oh well, no time to get into that now. "No. Thanks, I've got a beach towel in the car. I'll just go home and get cleaned up."
Lisa climbed quickly behind the wheel of her beat-up Chevy and started the car. She rolled down her window and said to the matron, who was still standing there, staring down at Lisa's puddle in fascination, "Call my office tomorrow. I'll try to help you then."
Then, she put the car in reverse and pulled out of the lot without making eye contact with any of the people standing around the lot. "Probably talking about the show," Lisa mumbled.
As she drove down the road, she began to realize that, in addition to her feelings of embarrassment, she was also feeling pretty damned excited. She had read about people who liked to stage public accidents and, although she enjoyed a good panty-wetting episode now and then, she didn't count herself among the exhibitionists. On the other hand, she couldn't discount her still-rapid breathing or her throbbing clit. She slipped a hand up under her dress and, spreading her legs as well as she could without losing contact with the gas pedal, she began to stroke herself. Fortunately for her, there was not much traffic on the road.
When she had to stop for a traffic light, she slipped her fingers underneath the crotch of her thong panties and rubbed furiously. Just as the light changed, she found herself in the throes of an enormous orgasm. The juices that signaled her excitement flowed over her fingers and, just as the spasms reached their crescendo, she pushed and let loose a short spurt of pee into her already overloaded panties and over her frantically stroking fingers.
When she finally pulled into her own driveway, Lisa was pleased to see her husband's truck parked by the back door. Her excitement began to rise again as she thought about telling him the story of her "little accident."
"Hi, honey," she called as she went through the laundry room, pausing only long enough to throw the sopping wet towel in the wash. She found her husband in his private office, seated in front of the computer, typing furiously as he stared intently at the screen in front of him. She walk up and slipped her arms around his shoulders, then leaned down to kiss the back of his neck.
When she stood back, he swivelled around to greet her and the look of pleasure and surprise on his face made her heart accelerate and her vulva twitch with new excitement. She lifted her skirt to show him her soaked panties and the blotches of wetness that trailed down her stockings.
As his hands wandered over her wetness, she told him the story of her accident. She could see that Jack was getting excited. Glancing at his crotch, she saw the bulge of his erect penis and his breathing rapidly accelerated to match her own. As she reached the climax of her story, she realized that her bladder had filled once again and she spread her legs slightly and pushed a bit, filling her panties with new wetness that cascaded down between her legs, over her husband's eager hand.
Neither of them could stand the excitement any longer. In almost no time, they were on the floor, Lisa stripped to her panties and Jack with his pants around his ankles. He reached between her legs, thrust aside the crotch of her panties and with one strong thrust, was inside her.
"Oh Jack," murmured Lisa, "I've been so bad!"
"Yes," grunted Jack, "you've been a very naughty girl. What do you think your punishment should be?" he finished as he rolled partially on one side and gave her a light swat on the rear. Then Jack moaned, the rhythm of his thrusts accelerating as he groaned loudly. Lisa could feel the hot semen pumping into her vagina as she joined him in his ecstasy.
When their breathing had returned to something close to normal levels, Jack raised himself on his hands, looked down at Lisa and said, "Whatever made you do it honey?"
"It really was an accident," she replied. "I intended only to wet myself on the way home but I just couldn't wait any longer. I do believe that the old bitch who stopped me was getting off on my predicament. When I left, she was standing there, staring down at the ground."
"Show me," said Jack.
Lisa slowly got to her feet. Then she stood, with her legs slightly parted, looking down at an imaginary puddle on the ground. Thankful for the tile floor in the office, she began a running commentary. "Well, she was standing like this, looking down at the puddle I made. She had this look of, oh I don't know, fascination I suppose. But more than that, she looked excited. I could just imagine her doing something like this--"
Without another word, Lisa spread her legs just a bit further apart, adjusted the crotch of her panties and, the next thing Jack knew, she was merrily peeing on the floor. As it hit, pee splashed up into the air and left small wet spots over Jack's shirt and pants. Moaning slightly, Lisa put her hand under her skirt and began to play with herself. Jack's view was perfect. He saw her hand, rub her clit, than dip backwards to dabble in the stream of urine that ran forcefully over the crotch of her panties, over her hand, and down to the floor. By the time she was finished, peeing, Lisa could barely stand. She squatted on her heels and began to rub herself more and more quickly.
Never one to miss an opportunity, Jack moved forward to bury his head between his wife's thighs. Reaching up with one hand, he began to assist her efforts. His touch was like an electric shock to the already aroused Lisa. As he slipped one finger, than two, inside her vagina, she felt the spasms of orgasm begin. Lisa's legs gave way and she found herself seated in her own puddle of piss, legs spread, hips bucking wildly as her husband reached for, and found, her g-spot.
Lisa's orgasm was so intense, she lost consciousness of everything but her swollen clit and the feeling of her husband's fingers as they probed within her. As the spasms wracked her thoroughly soaked body, she let go a final time, flooding the floor, and thoroughly wetting both of them.
As the exhausted couple dragged themselves up the stairs to the shower, Lisa leaned over to kiss her husband's cheek. "Wow, Jack! P really is for Pleasure," she said.

The End