Evenings By Tinker, March 1996

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NOTE: I welcome corrections to my English.

When I got home, I found the door already unlocked so my boyfriend had
arrived before me. Contrarily to his normal habit, he had left the
cheerleader practice early to do some shopping. I had rounded up everything
with the girls to get them ready for the upcoming championships. We had a
fair chance, I assessed. After the practice, Ann, Maureen, and me spent
those delicious last few minutes in our uniforms on the field together and
when the dripping had finally stopped, we showered, dressed, and went home.
I thought my boyfriend would not have finished shopping, but he still had
beaten me to my apartment and was already busy cooking.

In the hall way I could smell what would be for dinner. Something oriental,
apparently; not too bad. I kissed my boyfriend on his cheek while passing
the kitchen on my way to the bathroom, and sorted out my clothes. My
cheerleader uniform, and particularly the panties, badly needed a good trip
through the washing machine. Given all the things I had been doing in, or
better through my uniform that afternoon, it was a small miracle that the
panties were still flashy red. Our mutual hobby had a few irritating side
effects, and the huge amount of laundry it generated was one of them. The
washing machine was filled up for the third time this week, and it was only
Thursday. Sometimes we should just restrain ourselves a bit, I thought. But
then, allowing myself this naughty game was so freaking sensual that the
annoyance was easily overcome. And on the way home I did not spoil the
panties I was wearing now, despite my long green skirt, so I still could
actually control myself. Smiling I started up the machine, watched for a
moment as the water started to soak into our clothes, brushed my hair, and
went to the kitchen to keep my friend company. He made a few very nice
remarks about my sweater-and-skirt outfit, which made me secretly glow with
pride, and then announced that dinner was ready.

During dinner my boyfriend and I talked about some general things,
especially the PhD thesis he was writing. He was quite a nerd, in all
respects, still living with his parents and always busy with computer-
related stuff. Unless he was busy with me, of course. His parents had been
in heaven when they heard that he got involved with me, or with a girl in
general. They had almost given up hope. After the ice between them and me
was broken, we could get along very well together, and I even suspected
that his mother treated me a bit like the daughter she never had. We had
spent hours in town, looking for nice clothes to wear. I was always
searching for wide and long garments, while she did not stop stressing that
with my figure and the current fashion I should wear short and tight
clothes. I hated short and tight. Short and wide, okay, but that was out of
the question for anything but official cheerleading. Being 29 had its
consequences. Long and tight would be an outright disaster as far as I was
concerned, because it would rob my favourite hobby from me.

I brought up the subject with my boyfriend. He always was quite interested
in the things I wore, not to the point of going out shopping with me, but
definitely more than average. He also knew perfectly well what he liked to
see me in. Fortunately this coincided with my own ideas, not in the least
because of our shared interests. We both had agreed that my flashy
cheerleader outfit was the number one best for every occasion, but
practical problems made me wear second-best almost all the time when I was
in public. I now wore second-best, a loose sweater that cleverly hid the
outline of my breasts (which were on the small side, I thought, but my
friend seemed to like them anyway) and a wide skirt almost to my ankles. I
never wore pantyhose for obvious reasons; when it got cold, I preferred
knee socks and a polyester underskirt. But today the weather was nice, so
my bare legs went up all the way to my panties and I knew that this idea
excited my friend quite a lot. And the practical implications of a free way
down were important to me as well. Having to wear pants all the time would
be pure torture; I adored the freedom my skirts and dresses gave me.

"Well, the short and tight fashion would surely be a sudden change for you,
I agree, but I suppose there's nothing wrong with a tight top, is it?" my
friend asked. "I've seen some girls in town wearing a very tight turtleneck
sweater made from somewhat elastic fabric, and they really fitted them very
well. I think they would fit you also." I shrugged. "Why? There's nothing
to show, really." My friend did as if he was surprised: "Nothing to show?
Hell Diana, you have the most beautiful pair of breasts I've ever seen!
Your cheerleader uniform shows them to the world all the time. Why then
hide them off the field? And you can still wear wide skirts. I even think
it would be very nice to see you in such a tight top with a wide skirt to
over your knees. It would be very elegant, very feminine. Besides,
sometimes you wore your uniform with a long black skirt over it and I've
never heard you complain about the top."

I smiled: "No, but that was mainly because at those times I was quite busy
doing something else." We both grinned. I had to admit that this `look'
indeed would be something worth trying, and promised to look out for such a
sweater next time I went shopping for clothes. "And then some," he
continued. "I fully agree that a short and tight spandex-like skirt is
nothing for you, although it would fit. Neither are the leather skirts such
as Cindy wears." "Uses, you mean," I corrected him, referring to the fact
that Cindy had learned to shamelessly exploit her waterproof garments while
we fabric people had to let an opportunity pass by. This cute, blond girl,
always wearing an absolute white blouse with a black leather mini and high
heels, probably could not even keep it in anymore even if she wanted to.
She had already stopped wearing white panties because the multiple yellow
stains she accumulated during the day became visible when she forgot to
keep her knees together! We all had had our `crazy weeks,' but with Cindy
it appeared to be `crazy months.'

"But a smooth short skirt that is neither tight nor wide would be the
perfect complement for a tight sweater. When you can part your legs two
feet it is enough, and the skirt would still be too tight to flare up in
the wind. It would look like, say, an air hostess uniform. You could add a
blazer if you wanted to. Nobody would think anything special of you, and
you can do whatever you want except squat down." I pondered his proposal
but had to admit again that he had a point. The next weekend I would try to
find a few garments to try it out.

After doing the dishes I performed the ritual of putting on my black boots
and tightly pulling up my dark blue panties, and we exited the building to
take our usual walk together. Soon we were on the grass between the trees,
and it did not take much longer before I felt the familiar tingling in my
groin. I reached out to him and hooked my arm in his, leaning my head on
his shoulder. I knew he liked this, even though he knew that I did it to
please him. Some theatre is allowed in all relationships. And there was
more theatre to come. As soon as we had reached our favourite spot, with
quite some bushes shielding us from view, I stopped walking and took my
pose. With this long skirt there were not that much options. I parted my
feet a bit and placed my hands low on my hips. He turned towards me, gave
me a kiss, and then pulled me close with his hands around my waist.
Carefully we hugged our groins, and I felt his thing stirr even through his
jeans. In return I tried to push my breasts against his chest, but as
always it did not work out as well as I hoped for. Well, pity. Fortunately
I had something better. While he started to gently kiss me on my lips, I
started working on my panties. As it came closer, I felt my skin tickle and
the excitement of the situation made me perspire a bit on my fore head. He
knew it all. Just before I could not hold it anymore, he pulled a bit back
and looked into my hazy eyes. I parted my feet some more and held my
breath.

This was the moment, he knew. He grabbed me firmly under my arms and pulled
me as close as possible without grinding crotches, kissing me in my neck
and whispering sweet nothings. I concentrated on my panties and counted
down. I was beyond the point of no return now. Deep inside me I felt it
coming, slowly but steadily. And when it came out, I could only moan.
Suddenly I wore a pair of warm, wet, sticky panties that sent all kinds of
pleasure impulses up my nerve system. Gush after gush, my warm savings of
the whole afternoon poured into my underwear, giving me all the stimuli I
needed to prepare myself for tonight. I revelled in the thought of standing
here, for all to see, wearing a long skirt and weeing myself completely
under it with my boyfriend hugging me like a baby. Maybe it was this what
we both wanted? Being babies? No, babies do not hug each other, and usually
do not wee in their very adult clothes for fun. I did. I let out every drop
I had, getting thoroughly warm and wet, and thoroughly worked up as well.
My breasts rubbed firmly against my friend's chest, and only pure mental
strength could keep me from pushing my wet crotch through my skirt against
his. That would have to wait.

As my wee ran out, the feeling of warmth up my skirt gradually faded. But
the pleasant wetness and stickiness stayed. For a few moments I just waited
and dripped out, knowing that I hardly could pull my legs back together
without getting an orgasm straight away. Instead, I hugged my friend firmly
and let him explore my hips. I suspected that he still had no idea how much
he was a part of these sessions. He seemed to think that I just liked to
wee myself, and that I had been doing this for years before we met. Which
was not true at all.

With my panties delightfully sopping away under my skirt and three little
drops spiralling down my legs, we hooked arms again and started back to my
apartment. The state of arousal I was in would not stop before I got what I
needed now. He did not know, but I was horny as hell and would do
practically everything to get him. My panties itched and I felt them
sliding over my sensitive parts, while my bare legs got tickled by my
skirt. There was the elevator. He pressed on the seven and waited for the
door to close. As soon as the cage started to move, I felt that there was
something more I could do. Apparently the tension of the moment had
prevented me to empty myself completely. Without even properly parting my
feet I continued my wet dream. Again the warmth welled up in my panties and
I gasped from delight. The sound of the little stream falling down on the
floor of the cage made my friend look down in surprise. I just pushed and
let it come, straight into my clothes and down to my feet. My legs now
definitely got wet, and I could hear and feel the stream hitting my left
boot. I could not care less.

While the elevator began to slow down, I was still weeing in my panties,
and it had not even stopped when the door opened. Fortunately nobody wanted
to come in. My friend pulled me out of the cabin. I managed to stop wetting
myself, but my panties still leaked quite a lot. As in a dream I followed
his lead, my wee cascading down my legs. I now was completely wet and my
skirt had to catch something of it. But I did not care anymore. I left a
trail as we walked towards my apartment, and while he opened the door I
just had to start again. Looking down to my own skirt and with my legs a
little bit apart, I tried to produce every drop I could. Everything from my
waist down now glowed and tinkled. Something went into my boots, but most
of it formed a nice puddle between my feet. To use even those last few
gushes, I stooped down a bit and put my hands on my knees, forgetting about
anybody who might see me. One, two, three more times I flooded my poor
panties, driving myself up to the summit of what I could experience on my
own. But I wanted more. Much more.

When it finally stopped, I went into predator mode and bolted into the hall
way, barely closing the door, pushing my friend out in front of me. No
bathroom play today. I started to hike up my skirt and pull down my
slippery panties with one hand while I held my boyfriend's hand in a secure
grip that would bring an elephant to his knees. With a wet splot, my
panties ended up on the tiled floor as I pulled my friend towards my bed
room. I still wore all my clothes, sweater, skirt, boots, everything.
Everything except my panties. Without even waiting for him to realize what
was happening, I pushed him over onto my bed and jumped on top of him. He
tried to be nice to me and wanted to hug, but I had had enough hugs. I
wanted *him*. Skillfully I broke into his jeans and got the treasure out,
which was quite ready for action. He always apologised for the small size
of his thing, apparently believing that there was some magical size that
girls needed to have fun. Stupid magazines. He had more than enough to help
me out, every time.

I pulled up my skirt and mounted him, guiding him in with one hand while
pushing him down flat on his back with the other. His thing easily slid
inside me and stretched me up exactly like I had hoped for. Now the rest
would be a piece of cake. I did a few strikes to pick up the rhythm of
life, and waited until he caught up with me. But apparently I had been a
bit too quick today, because the startled look in his eyes did not go away.
Alright then. His instincts would help him if his overworked brain could
not take this load. I grabbed him firmly at his hips and in one smooth
movement I rolled us both over. Knowing the dynamics of my water bed helped
a lot. I ended up on my back, with him still inside me. Quickly I pulled up
my knees and opened them as far as I could while arranging my skirt nicely
on the bed. Then I pulled my long hair away from under my head so that he
could get at it. Lastly I put up my most innocent and still sexy face and
blinked a few times with my eyes. And waited.

His first attack still came unexpected. In one, hard strike he got as far
inside me as he had ever been. I yelped from delight. The second and third
strikes broke all records. Surprisingly, he still had enough sentient brain
cells left to take off his glasses properly. But after that, the animal
inside him finally came out. I felt my own consciousness melting away under
his relentless instinctive reflexes, and could only give in completely.
With our combined forces, we reached places hitherto unexplored, and as the
world shrunk into just him and me, I felt something animalistic well up
deep inside me. It grew and grew and soon overpowered anything I was,
robbing me from my senses and thoughts and everything else. My eyesight
faded away and the world spiralled down into one single point, the point
where my friend and me existed as one single entity. My body contracted
uncontrollably as lightning bolts of pure pleasure shattered what remained
of my Self. I vaguely felt something heavy crashing down onto me, heard two
voices cry out in a single scream of pleasure, and blacked out.

When I woke up, my friend had already left the bed and was preparing
breakfast. He told me some rather unbelievable stories about why I was
wearing my cheerleader uniform, which was completely clammy, and why his
jeans were nowhere to be found, so that he had to wear one of my skirts. I
staggered out of bed, all my muscles hurting, and tried to remember what
had happened. He just grinned and brought in the breakfast on a tray. I
looked at myself in the mirror. I wore my uniform, including my panties,
and it looked and felt like I had pulled everything straight out of the
washing machine. Well, never mind. I climbed back onto my bed and gladly
accepted the mug of coffee he offered me. My wet skirt clung against my ass
and did not in any way fulfill its purpose of hiding my panties. As I sat
on my bed cross-legged, I felt my friend's eyes drifting to my exposed red
triangle. I took a sip of coffee, and felt the hot liquid go right through
my body. Would I? After such a night, I had some sense of abandon and doing
my morning wee in my uniform in bed seemed a nice idea.

Alright then. After another sip I looked down to my crotch and
mischievously began to wet myself. Slowly my panties changed colour and I
felt them warm up. It was wonderful. Sheepishly I smiled to my friend, who
smiled back and joined me on the bed. As I continued to wet myself, he just
hugged me and enjoyed the sight of the spreading stain, both in my panties
and on the sheets. When it was over and my coffee finished, he carefully
pushed me on my back and positioned himself over my hips, one knee on each
side. Curiously I hiked up the skirt he wore, one of the shorter ones that
I did not dare to wear anymore. He was still dry. His light-blue briefs
nicely showed the outline of his prick, which seemed quite aware of the
situation. I tickled him under his balls, and was rewarded by an immediate
stain up front of his underwear. It came down quickly and just after it
reached my fingers, a warm rain started on my groin. My uniform was already
wet, so I could pull my own skirt modestly down and let him soak it. After
he finished, we pressed our wet crotches together and hugged each other to
orgasm, not nearly as shattering as the evening before, but rewarding
nonetheless. Only after we both got chilly, we left for the shower. And
after that I re-filled the washing machine.

A nice beginning of a working day. I got curious about what would follow
the next week end.

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