Posted by linda on December 12, 1997 at 13:19
It was the summer between my junior and senior years in high school. I was traveling to Washington, DC, to attend a summer program in journalism. I'd been a secret panty wetter for years, and was now look forwarding to being in a strange city where no one knew me, as I could surely be a little braver with my wetting activities.
I checked into my dorm building, then found my room. I opened the door and met Frannie, my roommate for the next two weeks. She'd just stripped one of the twin beds in the room, and was putting what I soon realized was a waterproof sheet over the mattress. I felt my heart beating a little faster than usual.
After exchanging greetings, Frannie realized I was staring at the protective mattress cover. She said, "Oh, this! I've been a bedwetter since I was a kid. I've got my own sheets too, so I don't have to worry about the cleaning people spreading the word about me." Trying to act nonchalant, I said something dumb like, "Oh, that's good." Frannie went on to say, "If it grosses you out or anything, I'll understand. No hard feelings. You can just ask for another room." "Oh no, that's okay. It won't bother me," I said, as my heart raced and I had to fight the urge to pee myself right then and there. This was going to be an interesting four weeks.
Frannie and I spent the afternoon hanging out, talking, and getting to know each other in general, but she never brought up the bedwetting thing. I had no clue about whether she really just had a physiological problem that she'd learned to accept and make the best of, or she enjoyed wetting on any level at all. And I, an otherwise rather reserved 16-year-old who kept my wetting pleasures strictly to myself, didn't have the nerve to ask. But Frannie and I seemed to like each other right away, so that was a start.
The weekend passed, including our first two nights sleeping in the same room, and each morning I saw Frannie strip the bed and stuff what must have been her wet sheets into a huge laundry bag and replace them with clean ones. The idea that I was sleeping only a few feet away from someone peeing themselves in bed, maybe several times a night, had me nearly orgasmic from the thought alone.
Frannie only lived about 15 miles away, she told me, so her dad was going to come by every few days to do a "sheet exchange", she told me casually as we walked to class Monday morning. It was an opening for a question, and I took it. "Don't your folks mind?" I asked. "Nah, they're used to it. They took me to a few doctors when I was a kid, but they never found anything wrong with me and told my parents it was something we'd just have to live with," Frannie said matter-of-factly. No clue there.
The university campus was very spread out, with long, long walking paths and plenty of wooded areas. After class Monday, we stopped for sodas and Frannie got a huge one to take with her. She suggested we go for a long walk before tackling our first homework assignment. Hoping against hope that Frannie might be "planning an accident" for my benefit, I wasn't about to miss an opportunity to join her in some panty wetting. I said that if we were going to be out walking for a while, I'd better grab another soda too.
We walked and talked for the longest time, and soon enough, after all that soda, my bladder was responding nicely. I kept waiting for Frannie to say something, wondering if I'd read her signals wrong, or if I really could have met the roommate of my dreams. If she was really into wetting for pleasure, she'd have to be feeling me out too (no pun intended), because it's not the kind of thing you just spring on someone, hoping they won't be disgusted.
The more I thought about it, the more I started to realize that the ball was in my court. Frannie had told me about her bedwetting, and I hadn't said anything that gave her any clues, so maybe she was waiting for me to make the first move. What did I have to lose? After all, she was a bedwetter. She wasn't about to tell everyone she could find that I peed my panties in the woods, right?
Okay, I'd wet myself in front of Frannie, but should I pretend it's an accident or just tell her it's what I like to do? It would probably be easier to drop a few remarks about having to pee badly and the bathroom being so far away, then just do a little spurt and exlaim that I'd just accidentally peed a little, and gauge her reaction. If I still got none, I'd fake real desperation and grab myslef and run behind a tree and see if she followed. Yeah, that was the best plan.
Just as I decided definitely to go with the accident, Frannie said, "Boy do I have to pee! I'm starting to pee myself already!" Without even thinking about it, I said, "Me too!" Frannie said, "This looks like a good spot," pointing to a deserted little wooded area off the path. It seemed completely natural to say, "Want to do it together?" and so I did. Frannie said, "Sure. Now don't tell me you're one of those girls who has to pull their panties down first." I said, "Not me!" Frannie and I smiled at each other with a new sense of excitement and adventure, she took my hand, and off we went. (Note: If I wanted to keep you all in suspense, I could just stop here and say, "more to follow..." but I won't.)
Frannie and I ran between the tress, found our spot, hiked up our skirts and squatted, knees intermingled, holding hands, and facing each other. She had white lacy panties on and I had pink cotton ones. It seemed so right to do this with Frannie. I couldn't help but notice that each of us already had little damp patches right in the center of our crotches. Simultaneously, we let go and peed long and hard right through our panties, eyes fixed on each other's streams and puddles and crotches. About midway, Frannie let go of one of my hands, and put her fingers right into my stream, then gently touched my peeing pussy through my wet panties. I stopped peeing momentarily, but started up again while Frannie stroked my crotch. I was in heaven. Soon we both ran out of pee, but without saying a word to each other, we stood, as the last few drops of pee ran down our legs, and rubbed each other's pussies through our wet panties until we each had explosive orgasms.
Frannie and I hugged, then set out on the long walk back to the dorm. "So, Frannie, do you really have a medical problem that makes you pee the bed?" Frannie grinned ear to ear and said, "What do you think?"
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