The Pants-Pissing Chronicles are loosely based on themes of people I have known. However, any association, explicit or implied is purely accidental.
It was another wonderful sun-drenched day as Liz awoke to the golden light streaming through the gap between her bedroom window and the curtain. The sun hadn't really woken her, however, as she had been drifting lazily into and out of sleep, dozing despite the delicious pressure nestling just above and behind her pubic bone. Finally, unable to sleep because of her over-full bladder but not wanting to get up yet, Liz rolled onto her back and drew up her knees, spreading her legs a little. As her thighs parted, she let a quick little spurt of urine escape into the thick crotch of her panties, luxuriating in the small heat of the release and the warm wetness as it soaked quickly into the material.
Liz reached down and touched the wonderful thick cotton, and felt how it smoothed out the lines of her sex, moulding it into an almost featureless mound. And just in the center of her mound, behind the curve of her pubic bone, she found her clit, bathed as it was in the warmth of the freshly wet material, and hooked a fingertip into the cleft under it, surrounding it in wetness and cradling her clit in the crook of her finger. Liz had fallen in love with these panties and the others just like them that she had bought for the purpose of her newest and most favourite pastime, one to which she was introduced by her friend Lloyd, the older man in her life who had opened a whole new world of feelings and eroticism she had never dreamed existed. Certainly her other boyfriends had never introduced her to anything like what Lloyd was into, and yet, their friendship, for all its eroticism, was still Platonic. How wonderful it was to be able to discuss and feel such sensual things with a man who didn't immediately try to turn it into an excuse for sex. It was almost as if her new-found pleasure was even better than sex! As she played sleepily with herself through the thick material, Liz thought ahead to mid-morning, when she and Lloyd would go for a bicycle ride at the seaside. Which made her think about what she would do with the present pressing problem . . . .
If she peed now, she would have to fill up again for the ride, but if she didn't then she would have to somehow resist the urge for hours, something she didn't really believe she was capable of. Not only that, but holding on to her early morning pee would make her urine very concentrated when the time came, and that might cause chafing. But in any case, when she started hydrating in preparation for the ride, she would overflow, and when that happened, she knew herself well enough to know that all pretense at control would depart. With that knowledge, her immediate decision was made for her, and instantly she started peeing through her panties all over her fingers and the bed. Liz pushed her pee out forcefully, a hard little stream shooting straight through the material and around the tips of her fingers. As her bladder emptied itself in sweet pain, her urine flowed down between her legs to the quickly rising pool around her buttocks, soaking the bedclothes, the bed, and the back of her panties. She couldn't help rubbing her finger up and down her slit as her flow ebbed, and as she brought herself off, she looked forward to the experience that awaited her.
By the time Lloyd arrived, Liz had cleaned up the mess she had made, stripping the bed and putting the sheet in the wash, and letting the wet mattress dry in the gathering warmth of the day. She had hydrated well, and was filling up rapidly, but she exercised a self control rarely felt since she discovered her dirty little pleasures. Lloyd had told her that once she became used to peeing her pants, she would discover that she liked it so much that she would want to pee her pants all the time, no matter what she was wearing! Liz had been sceptical at the time, but now she knew better, having discovered that Lloyd was absolutely right, and she felt the urge no more than right now. It always seemed to be when her bladder was filling rapidly that she was most in need of her favourite diversion. For the moment, Liz just held it, giving her slit a quick squeeze with her middle finger, through her panties and wonderful cycling knicks, the ones in which she had discovered her newest fun.
Driving to the seaside, once again the two of them sat on folded towels, but this time, Liz had a totally different attitude to them. Lloyd didn't have to tell her what they were for - this time she already knew, and now, sitting on her towel, her pee straining for release, she let go and felt her urine squeeze past her labia. As the urge to push hit her, she bore down on her bladder for two full seconds, drenching the crotch of her tight panties and cycling knicks, the excess flowing out through the peeable panel in the padding of her knicks and running down into the towel. She had to fight the urge to keep going, and with great difficulty, squeezed off the flow, only to let go again a moment later as another wave hit. Liz was expecting this, having discussed with Lloyd this very phenomenon during their hydration talks, and so she knew that she could force out another powerful burst and finally squeeze off and hold the rest. Instantly, the warm organic odour of fresh dilute urine filled the cabin of the car, causing Lloyd to remind Liz about hydration and the importance of holding onto as much urine as possible. This was familiar to Liz, and she cast her mind back to talks during which Lloyd had showed her how to think of her body as a container of water - the more water in the container, the better for cooling, circulation and efficiency. The idea, Liz knew, was not only to hold her urine releasing it only as necessary, but to also make sure that she kept drinking to replace that lost through peeing and sweat. Lloyd called the whole process 'hydrating', and Liz had taken to it almost naturally. If she didn't have to live in a society where pants-peeing was seen as gross and unnecessary, Liz thought she would never have dry pants! She marvelled at her change of attitude, thinking how she might have missed it if she had never met Lloyd.
On arrival at the starting point of their ride, Liz and Lloyd put together their bicycles, attaching the wheels and checking the chains for adjustment and correct operation. Once ready, they mounted up and stood straddling the top bars and talked about the ride they would take. First, the two would ride along the water front until they reached an old bridge across the bay that was now closed to cars, where they would ride across to the peninsula on the other side. There they would have their first stop, and the chance to pee a little if necessary. As Lloyd had often explained, the idea was to pee in small squirts during the ride, only as necessary to remain relatively comfortable. But as Liz had discovered, this was not as easy as it seemed, and she anticipated the stops for the relief she knew she would need. Meanwhile, Liz topped up with water from one of the large bottles they had brought with them, drinking deeply to replace the water she had lost peeing in the car.
After the first 'pee-break', they would return to the mainland and ride back along the waterfront to their starting point, and another pee-break. Continuing on, the two would continue to ride the length of the waterfront to some cliffs, then inland to the road up to the top of the cliffs, to their next and last stop. Lloyd had explained to Liz that this was to be a special break and she looked forward to it with secret longing. Finally, riding down a path to the bottom of the cliffs, they would proceed back to their starting point, where they would finish, and rest before going home. All this sounded like a very long ride to Liz and she was conscious of of her need to pee at that very moment, let alone in an hour or two. She eyed the nearby facilities with longing, knowing she would not be using them, and felt her bladder spasm. Liz quickly sat on the bar, and uttered a quiet moan to herself which was just audible enough for Lloyd to glance at her and ask if she was OK. She told him she really had to go, to which he replied that she knew what to do, explaining it to her again and demonstrating. Liz had actually already thought of it, and was a little hesitant to do it right there, but didn't need any further encouragement.
As she stood straddled across her bike's top bar, watching Lloyd put two hard bursts of urine through his own pants, Liz released her hold on her own. As the first drops squeezed past her labia, as before in the car, Liz bore down on her bladder and pushed hard. The urine gushed into the gusset of her panties soaking through her panties and the peeable crotch panel of her knicks, to emerge in a diffuse stream through a wide area at the surface, where the small amount that overflowed dripped onto the bar and soaked down the legs of her knicks. Liz pushed hard for only a couple of seconds that felt like an eternity, which could have gone on and on, as she gave herself to the delicious sensuality of her release. With an effort, she cut off the flow, and held it for a second, testing her control and readying herself for the second and last burst. She knew the idea was to use her bladder as a relief valve, releasing just enough urine to wet her pants and pant legs for cooling, and to be comfortable enough for riding.
Liz stood for a moment after cutting off her flow, feeling the urine drain from her crotch and down her legs, feeling momentarily self-conscious, but after a quick glance around to see that noone was nearby or watching, she released her second burst. This time Liz pushed even harder, relishing the feeling of her urine gushing forcefully past her labia and hitting the inside of her panties. Part of her hard stream rebounded and drenched her sex, swirling around and spreading inside her pants before soaking through the multiple layers of thick cotton of her panties and peeable padding to emerge through the lycra-like stretch nylon material of her knicks. Liz was aware that she had already peed long enough, but she allowed herself one last second of hard urination before finally cutting off the flow, as Lloyd watched the urine pour out of her crotch and down her legs, all over the bars and chainrings of her bike to splash onto the ground under her.
Lloyd admired the sight of this attractive young woman, standing straddled across the top bar of her bike and drenching her pants, the bike and the road with her urine. This was what he had been waiting for and he wasn't missing a second of it. He loved this young intelligent girl and ached to touch her crotch while she was so enthusiastically peeing her pants. He knew all too well that there was a boyfriend somewhere who would disgusted to know Liz was indulging in this sort of activity, let alone that it was with another man. But Lloyd didn't allow that to stop him enjoying her wanton sensuality. Today was their day, and he was going to make it as good for both of them as he could. Lloyd could not believe his good fortune in finding a bright young girl who was relatively free of the inhibitions of a society that believed anything different was weird and any deliberate act of such antisocial behaviour was dirty and sick. Lloyd knew, as did Liz, that this WAS dirty, but they both loved it and knew society was wrong. Any further bother about society's rules was forgotten as the two of them took off down the road in the direction of the bridge.
Now that they had taken the edge off the pressure in their bladders, neither Lloyd nor Liz needed to pee during the whole trip to the bridge and over to the other side. It was a particularly long bridge over a wide bay, taking ten minutes to cross, and on arrival at the other side, the two dismounted and sat in the cool shade of a palm tree by the side of the old road. There, the two relaxed, wet their pants a little more and topped up their water reserves. Liz controlled her release this time, avoiding a repeat of the earlier drenching and the disgrace and embarrassment of being seen by the passing traffic coming off the parallel road bridge. Having remounted their bikes, Lloyd and Liz rode back over the old bridge to the mainland, this time taking the opportunity in the anonymity of cycling, to wet their pants a little more. Liz was starting to find it very easy to do - she realized that she just needed to get it started and peeing her pants at will was simple!
Arriving back at their starting point, they spied the evidence of their earlier enjoyment while they topped up again with water, refilling their water bottles from the supplies in the car, but avoided a lengthy stay or any significant wetting, anxious as they were to get to the next pee-break. Riding with Lloyd up the incline to the next and last stop, Liz felt the anticipation building and a spasm hit her bladder, forcing the release of a squirt of urine before she had a chance to stop it. Realizing the pointlessness of even trying, Liz allowed the squirt to dribble into her pants for a while longer, by which time they had arrived at their final stop. This was to be something special, she knew, but all she could see was a wide expanse of grass between the road and a fence bordering the edge of the cliff, but as Lloyd headed off towards an old park bench facing out to sea near a tree over to the right, Liz realized what he had in mind and a twinge of excitement tickled her crotch; she allowed her pants another brief soaking, just a little, for the best was soon to come and she didn't want to ruin it . . . .
This, Liz realized, was to be somewhat of a repeat of that time on their first ride together, when she discovered how wonderful it felt to just pee her tight pants to oblivion. And now, she was going to get to do it again! Liz was by now used to the idea of peeing so easily, she could just do it as easily as thinking, but she was also very aware of the proximity of the road and how passers-by would be able to see what they were about to do - what could they do to hide it? Then she knew, as Lloyd sat down on the farthest end of the short bench, positioned directly above the concrete support holding up that end of the bench. Taking up her own position on the near end, she located the center of her crotch directly above the support under her end of the bench and prepared to let go. This was to be the time of complete release. Liz had told Lloyd how much she had enjoyed the final pee of their last ride, and how she looked forward to the next one. For this ride, Lloyd had promised he would carefully select the best place to stop for 'the final pee' as they were now calling it.
Liz sat for a few seconds, glancing over at Lloyd for confirmation and, seeing his returned smile and nod, let her urine go. At first, unsure of how fast she could pee without being too obvious, Liz peed slowly, controlling the flow down to a dribble, a trickle so slight that as soon as her urine entered the tiny space made by her cleft and the inside of her tight panties, it was absorbed into the material and wicked away into the padding of her knicks. Slowly, this moisture drained down to the lowest point and she started to feel the wetness in the material draining away between the slats of the bench. The warm wet pleasure made her skin tingle and her nipples and clit stood erect against their respective encumbrances. Liz looked over again at Lloyd, and saw his urine flowing strongly and freely down the concrete support, and lost all pretense of control, letting go entirely. She parted her legs and pushed her hips forward to point her crotch down at the support under her and pushed, as she completely saturating her knicks and her poor panties inside them for the third time that day. Liz allowed the wonderful feelings to travel up and down throughout her whole body as she strove to force the urine straight through the tight material. Her urine drenched the concrete under her soundlessly, flowed down the support to the ground, and drained away into the grass. She continued pissing her pants until her bladder collapsed on itself. Even then, she kept up the pressure and held herself open, leaking the last trickles into her panties, until the flow of her urine onto the ground and the few drips from the slats had stopped. Having finally given their bladders the release they had craved for so long, both Liz and Lloyd sat in their wetness, relaxing and enjoying the wonderful feelings of their wet pants and spent pleasures.
As they rode back to the car, the last of their urine falling in drips from the elasticized bands at the bottoms of the legs of their knicks, their pants totally saturated and cool from the evaporation of wetness, they laughed and joked about it all, wondering if any of the people in the houses they passed had any idea what games Lloyd and Liz had been playing that day . . . .
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