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My time with Diana turned out to be one of the most wonderful in my whole
life. She really understood what I liked, and we had a lot of fun together.
She'd go out training her cheerleaders, have a wonderful afternoon with
the girls, and come back in the mood for more. It was a forbidden delight,
secret and safe in her apartment.
But it was our weekend sightseeing trips that gave us our greatest thrills.
Naturally, seeing the sights was just a pretext. We were after something
else. Though Diana's cheerleader uniform would have been the ideal garment
to wear on such occasions, it would attract too much attention. And as a
flimsy mini is easy enough to wear, but just doesn't cover you up enough,
Diana always felt more at ease in a medium or long skirt or a dress.
Wearing a long dress, she explained, was more exciting because it simply
made you much more aware of the fact that you were actually wetting
yourself.
Diana once even spent an entire day trying different dresses and skirts,
while changing into dry underwear after each test run. She would pick a
skirt, put it on, walk about for five minutes to get some feeling for the
garment, and then she would start to tease me. With minis, she would bend
over often, but always just not enough to show her underwear. With longer
skirts, she would sit down with her knees just not opened wide enough. With
long skirts, she would put her legs in outrageous positions that would
reveal everything and more if the skirt hadn't been so long. And every
time Diana found a new part to play. She would be a school girl waiting
for the bus delayed by traffic. A waitress, on duty for too long.
A secretary standing at the copier, collating a very important, very
long job. A cheerleader on the field, hopping in the rain. A tennis player
in her dressing room, disconsolate after losing. A naughty, tipsy girl
giggling uncontrollably at a party. A soloist in a choir, now she's
standing on one leg, swaying. The ambassador's wife at a garden party. And
in all these roles, Diana would find the perfect way to get herself
wonderfully wet panties with remarkable ease and grace. She never had to
invent an unrealistic scenario: she just got caught short, and neatly
solved the problem in a creative way.
So after some try-outs with minis, both standing and squatting, Diana felt
that little skirts, however useful, did not give her that special
feeling of naughtiness that a long skirt could. With a mini it just feels
ordinary, like when you're wetting your swimsuit. You know that nobody
sees your underwear getting wet, and the wetting itself is always nice,
of course, but it does miss that certain naughtiness. Like it's too simple.
You just spread and pee into your panties. You don't feel your skirt at
all and just hope for the best. Under a long skirt or dress, however, you
are far more aware of the fabric touching your legs, and you really need
to overcome inhibitions to start wetting yourself. Under a mini, you pee
through your panties; under a long dress, you piss into your clothes. Even
when the net effect is exactly the same, it's just not the same in a mini,
somehow.
Diana's favorite was a sleeveless black dress, tight at the top, and
wide at the ankles. She wore it with her black boots underneath, and
while not matching the effect of the red cheerleader uniform, it
certainly turned a head or two.
I couldn't begin to count the times we'd been out walking together somewhere,
when she'd suddenly pulled me aside, off the path, to show me a particular
interesting view of the something or other that we happened to be visiting.
Diana would inconspicuously part her legs, grab my hand, take a deep breath,
and do it right there.
I would embrace and kiss her, while deep under her skirt a warm wetness
took possession of her crotch and while she pressed herself against me, mances of that afternoon as
closely as possible. Wetting myself under that dress was great, and looking
at her stunning uniform while Diana wetted and rode herself off on the edge
of the bath tub, I'd always just explode.
Still, I did feel that something was missing. And while walking in a park,
with Diana wearing her dress and slowly gearing up for the first (and often
best) wetting of the day, I once expressed my desire to wear a dress as well,
so that we could enjoy the experience together. Diana, who knew my preference
for dresses to wet myself in, sighed and looked at me. "I know. It must be
hard for you to see me wetting myself week after week, and not being able
to do it yourself. But you know it is impossible. It would be too obvious
and everybody would look at you." I nodded. My experiences with the
cheerleader team, especially the few times in which I actually changed into
their uniform and joined them in their wet games, had made it painfully
clear that my body did not in any way look female. This did not matter
while playing naughty games with sympathetic girls around, but would
raise a problem elsewhere.
However, I reasoned, if I would wear a long dress instead of a tiny uniform
skirt, my leg hair would be covered up; especially with high boots. Having
no hips and breasts isn't immediately clear to passers-by, and hands and
arms could be covered up, too. So only my head remained. My hair needed a
bit of work, and probably my face as well. While Diana pranced on the
grass, trying out a new pose, I thought about all this and when she came back,
satisfied and curious why I had not embraced her like I always did the
moment she got wet, I told her my idea.
Diana thought for a long, intent moment, then nodded and said it was worth
giving it a try. She figured we could rush home and get ready before dark,
so that we could experiment the rest of the day and evening. So we got back
to her car, and she had to pull up her dress highly to prevent staining it
while she sat down onto the specially prepared car seat.
At home, Diana dug up her make-up set and started to work on my face. It
needed a good shave, and lots of powder and other stuff I didn't even know
of, but eventually she thought I could pass, given a little distance in
the half-light. She remodelled my hair with something probably close to
toxic waste and I almost didn't recognize myself.
Finally, I put on a long-sleeved finely-woven sweater, and her long dress
over that. Diana wanted me to try on some ear rings too, but I turned
them down flat: I only wanted to wear a dress to wet myself under; not to
imitate a girl. All I needed was to go unnoticed by passers-by. Diana
put on a long wide skirt with a sweater, and we finished off our outfits by
carefully choosing appropriate panties. We prepared our evening meal and
made sure that we drunk enough to make it worthwhile.
When dusk just had set in, Diana drove us into the country. I soon felt
comfortable, safely in her fast car, and I let myself relax a bit. She
smiled. This evening promised to be something special.
By the time it was so dark that we had to turn on the headlamps, we
reached a dimly lit path through a small forest, leading to a similarly
illuminated waterfall. There were only a few people around, and I
counted only five other parked cars. Carefully, I got out, and Diana
giggled and reminded me of the problems wearing a long dress. But it was
worth it. Soon, we walked towards the dimly lighted waterfall, and feeling
the wind touching my bare legs under my dress was a wonderful sensation.
The thought alone that I could just wee into my panties without anyone
noticing it made that walk to an unforgettable experience.
Diana walked lightly next to me, and simply announced that she would not be
able to postpone her relief much longer. I told her to go ahead if she felt
it was time. She looked at me. "Really? I don't have to wait for you?"
"Nope. You can do it right away, now, if you want to."
Her face lit up, and with a simple "Thanks!," she stopped walking. Without
any further preparation, she looked down to her slightly parted feet and
took a breath. While hissing "Yessss", she let her warmth enter her
underwear, and issing "Yes! Yes!" while all she had been saving through the
afternoon washed through her panties. Some people approaching caused her to
keep silent for a moment, and while they disappeared again we both giggled
since they had neither discovered my disguise nor Diana's wet game. While
Diana stopped the dripping between her legs by squeezing her thighs
together, I started towards the waterfall.
By the time we reached the falls, my need to pee had become obvious and I
consulted Diana about my tactics. She looked around, saw that no people
were near, and advised the classical way: legs apart, hands on the fence of
the falls, and don't hesitate too long, as people might decide to look
twice. I frowned. Couldn't I just sneakily start to trickle, and pretend
to be a girl dying for a pee that couldn't find a sheltered spot and
decided to wet herself a bit instead? Diana smiled. "Listen. Do you want to
toy around or do you want to get real?"
Suddenly I knew that this, indeed, was the way to go. I had become like
that girl desperate for a pee, and had just decided that finding a toilet in
time was both improbable and a waste of time anyway. I wore a dress, so I
had a natural way to quickly get it over. So I checked my clothes, and
walked towards the fence. Diana followed, clearly as excited as I was.
Arriving at the fence, I put my hands onto the iron bar and looked down into
the river bed. The falls made quite a lot of noise. After a quick glance at
Diana, who smiled and nodded back, I swallowed and tried to forget all the
risks we were taking out here. But the idea of being a girl who needed to
pee and by chance wore a dress was easy enough. It would work, even if
somebody would come closer.
I swallowed again, and looked down to my boots. I had them tightly
together. Now I would have to part them and go for it. I just had to forget
my male instinct to hold something while peeing, and drop the whole lot
into my panties with my hands on the fence. Diana put her hand on my hand
and winked at me. She nodded towards her own skirt and I saw that she
slowly parted her legs. Looking very sexy, she even put her tongue between
her lips. Way to go, girl.
I took a deep breath and told her, in a child-like voice: "I'm sorry
Diana, but I think I can't hold it any longer." She answered quickly,
"Oh, that doesn't matter. Just do it in your panties, nobody will see it.
It will be over in no time." "You think so?" "Absolutely. I have done it
myself, you know. Do it now." "In that case, here we go."
Without further delay, I spread my legs as wide as I had seen Diana do it,
and firmly grabbed the fence. With my eyes closed and Diana gently stroking
my hand, I really became that girl. I was aware of every sound in the
environment, every footstep, every movement, and it couldn't bother me at
all. I was secure, with my dress hiding every possible sign of what would
happen. Feeling wonderfully excited and yet safe and cosy, I was determined
to be as quick as possible. I would wet my panties swiftly to release the
pressure on my bladder, and be on my way again in a moment. One last
breath, and trembling of excitement, and I started to wee into my pants.
Diana must have felt something changing in me, because she started to
softly talk to me. "Just go on. Don't think of anything else but your
panties. They turn dark. Just go on. Don't stop. Whatever happens, don't
stop." I sighed. It felt so nice to wet myself, it was unbelievable. Of
course I had wet myself dozens of times already, but this was vastly
different. This was the way it should be done, I knew. And I kept on
pushing my bladder contents into my panties. My black dress and boots hid
everything, and while my crotch turned into a warm and cosy centre of my
life, Diana giggled at the sight of droplets falling down between my legs.
"It looks really authentic," she said, and started to walk around a bit. I
continued to pee myself and now opened my eyes. Still nobody within twenty
metres, and not enough light to reveal myself. I turned to face Diana, and
as I stood with my back to the waterfall, I let loose a terrific stream.
She was delighted. "You really can do it! Oh, it looks sooo nice!" It
felt even nicer. Bless somebody for the invention of dresses.
Eventually, I emptied myself and walked away from the fence, leaving a
puddle brm into mine and together we left for her
car, meeting some people on the way. Safely in her car, we drove off a mile
and then pulled over to hike up our skirt and dress and compare notes. The
stains we saw in our panties were so exciting that we quickly ended up in
the back of her car, to round things off.
When we got home at last, Diana had to pee again, and while I took off my
dress in her bathroom, she climbed into the bath tub to relieve herself for
the second time. The sight of her, hiking up her skirt to show me her already
wet panties, drove me crazy, and I just turned on the hot tap to fill the
bath while she was still in it. Smiling, she let go of her skirt and sat down
onto a small plateau in the tub. While the water crept higher and now touched
her ankles, she calmly arranged her skirt so that I could look between her
legs. Clearly enjoying it, she started to wee in her panties, this time
staining her skirt as well.
A dark line crept down the part of her skirt that she sat on, and I could
clearly see the liquid pouring through her red panties. But soon the water
level reached up her skirt, and washed away any signs of what she had done.
Just before her panties would be drowned, I entered the tub as well, and
standing over her, I released the last gush of pee I had into my briefs. A
dark-blue stain quickly spread, and Diana reacted by pulling up her soaked
skirt and opening her knees. This offer I couldn't decline, and while the
warm water started to rise higher and higher, we lay on top of each other
and had a wonderful hugging session.
After an hour of wet and warm play in the bath tub, we both got out, dried
each other and quickly went to bed. Needless to say that we had a wonderful
night together. Some things don't ever change.
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