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[Author’s note – this story is about desperation and wetting fetishes. If that’s not your thing, this would be a very good place to stop…]
“Where is she?” Kate wondered aloud, looking at her watch again. She and Liz were outside a wine bar in the centre of town, waiting for their friend Sam. It was the night of the Bursting Club Pub Crawl, and it wouldn’t do to start late.
The Bursting Club had begun when Kate and Liz had gone to the same school, and become friends. Growing up. Kate had a notoriously weak bladder and was forever asking to be excused from class to visit the toilet. Fed up with her constant interruptions, to teach her a lesson once the teacher had forbidden her to leave during one class, and she had had to hold on until the break, by which time she was almost frantic and barely managed to get to the bathroom before she peed. However, she had found the experience an intensely erotic one, the possibility of public humiliation in front of the entire class simply adding to the thrill from her own desperation, and from that point onwards she had regularly begun denying herself the toilet in order to feel that feeling of fear and desperation.
She had confessed all to her best friend Liz one day, who had been intrigued and keen to try it out. After a couple of informal attempts at holding it in during lessons, the two of them had formed the ‘Bursting Club’. According to the rules that they had set themselves, they had to deliberately drink at least a pint of liquid before the start of a block of lessons and then try to hold it in until lunchtime or home time. Needless to say, there had been one or two ‘accidents’ down the years, and some quietly whispered comments about the two ‘dirty girls’, but that was all part of the excitement for Kate and Liz.
Now they were older, and had managed to rope a third co-conspirator into the club. Sam was older than the two young women, 30-something to their 20-something, and had met Liz when the two of them had shared accommodation in London a couple of years ago. By then Kate was a confirmed wetting fetishist, and, since she was forever in search of people to share her fetish with, she liked to drop hints to people she knew well. She’d talk about her experiences with abstinence at school, or about laughing so much on one occasion that she had literally ‘pissed herself’ in a crowded street. Sam had made the appropriate kind of responses to these gambits, and had soon been draw into the activities of the ‘Bursting Club’.
Indeed, it was actually Sam who had come up with the idea of the Bursting Club Pub Crawl. It had started after a Christmas pub crawl at Sam’s office, when Kate had been invited along. After a couple of pints both girls had found their bladders beginning to burst, and Sam had commented to Kate: “Imagine trying to last all the way through something like this!”
Kate had looked thoughtful for a while, before exclaiming: “Oh God, Sam – we just HAVE to try that!”
And so, ever since then, the Bursting Club Pub Crawl had become a regular event for the three women — initially annually, around Christmas time, when there were lots of gangs of drunks littering the streets, and their antics had blended in. However, as time had gone by, the outings had started to become more frequent, and more risque. Though none of the girls would admit it, the mixture of fear, humiliation and downright naughtiness was simply addictive.
All Bursting Club Pub Crawls held to the same basic formula, however; they always started off in Maltepe Escort the city centre, and then slowly headed towards Sam’s flat, where the three of them would generally end up spending the night, by way of various drinking establishments en route. The full ‘official’ crawl was 12 pubs, and the rules which they had all laid down before the first Crawl stated that the girls each had to drink at least half a pint of liquid in each one, and that drink had to contain alcohol. Usually they stuck to beer or lager, although cocktails and long drinks of various types were allowed, provided they came to more than half a pint. But it was a tall order in terms of timing; even if they began just after work, in order to get around all 12 pubs, and including the time taken to walk between them, it meant that they only had an average of less than 20 minutes in each venue, so there was absolutely no time for hanging around. And the second rule of the game was that they weren’t allowed to remove any clothes in order to pee, or to use a ‘proper’ toilet at any point during the evening, thus treating each other to the ultimate in desperation games! The girl who was able to hold it in for the longest — or more realistically, to pee herself the fewest number of times throughout the evening, won the game. This was almost always Liz.
Generally, for the first few pubs they were all fine, but as the evening wore on, so the girls would get drunker and drunker, and of course both more and more desperate for a pee and less concerned about propriety. Finally, of course, nature would take its inevitable course. And that point was where the forfeits began — the third rule of the game. For every time one of them peed herself, the others would force them to perform a forfeit of some kind. The first girl to lose it during the evening also became known as “Pissy Pants Girl”, and wasn’t allowed to change her clothes at all during the night — usually the girls would bring several changes of underwear, just to try and keep a lid on things. The frisson of being made to walk around all night in a progressively dirtier pair of knickers meant that the first to lose it always generated the greatest tension and excitement.
Finally, the rule on clothing was that you had to dress smartly and sexily, and that your legs always had to be covered, in order to make ‘losing it’ more of an issue. However, the girls had rapidly discovered from painful experience that trousers or jeans were simply not very practical, as it meant going into pubs with massive wet stains down your legs, which attracted far too much attention, and often got them thrown out. So generally they wore loose skirts or dresses, and stockings rather than tights — the skirts avoided the worst of the piss, and pairs of soaked stockings tended not to show the wet so badly, could be changed more easily without having to undress, and — aside from the stocking tops – often dried off in a few minutes if they were left on.
However, as the alcohol loosened their inhibitions, so the forfeits would get more and more sexual, and it was rare for them to reach the end of the evening without someone having had to suck a cock or have a quick fuck in a back alleyway. The city centre pubs were generally the better quality ones, and so they always started there. But as the night wore on and they moved away, so they would get into progressively rougher areas of the inner city, before they reached the recently ‘gentrified’ district just beyond where Sam lived. The benefit of this was Ümraniye Escort that the quieter streets made it easier to find somewhere quiet to answer nature’s call, and – as the areas were seedier and further from the bright lights of the city centre – it was also less likely that there would be passing police who might try to arrest them for ‘indecent behaviour’. However, it did also mean they occasionally met some unsavoury customers…
Inside the World’s End, the first pub in the Crawl, Kate put her mobile away. “She says she thought it was tomorrow,” she told Liz. “But she’s on her way now.”
“Dozy cow!” Liz exclaimed.
The two young women stood around at the bar, irritated, waiting for Sam. Both had, as required by the Rules, dressed specially for the occasion. Liz was a tall and cool blonde with long, beautifully permed hair and a fashionable pair of glasses. She had, seemingly in an act of pure bravado, worn a very thin cotton skirt and a silky satin blouse, both in pristine white, over a pair of white cream silk panties, a lacy white suspender belt and two slips, both in white satin, with a pair of white seamed stockings. She had no bra, and wore a pair of white knee-length boots with 4″ stilettoes on her feet. The outfit was bound to become almost completely transparent as it got wetter, and the white would show up any yellow stains to their maximum. Although Liz had a notoriously hardy bladder, and loved to live dangerously, this seemed to be tempting fate even for her!
Kate, meanwhile, was a sassy redhead, and a very practical girl. True to her nature, she had dressed in a complete contrast to her friend’s symphony in white. She had gone for a classic Little Black Dress which ended just below her stocking tops — short enough not enough to catch much stray splashing, and dark enough not to show any suspicious wet stains. Underneath it she wore seamed black stockings with a suspender belt, to avoid having the nasty clinging feeling of wet tights, and a little pair of black silk knickers, with a buff-coloured raincoat over the top in case she needed to cover up wet patches. She had also packed three changes of stockings and panties in her handbag, along with various wipes and perfumes. Her stilettos were black, open-toed and strappy, so that they wouldn’t become full of piss, unlike Liz’s boots, which would inevitably begin to fill up as the Crawl progressed. Kate was all set to go.
Half an hour late, busty brunette Sam finally arrived, having had to come over straight from work. The other two girls looked at her in wry amusement as they took in her pin-striped pencil-skirted dark blue business suit and crisp white blouse. She was wearing a lacy white bra and panties underneath, black tights and an expensive pair of court shoes in black patent leather. None of them seemed likely to survive the evening…
“Look at me!” Sam complained. “I’m in my work suit — I can’t get all this messy! And I haven’t brought any changes along!”
“You should have got the right day then,” Kate told her with a cruel smile. “You’ll just have to hope your bladder is stronger than it was last time!” Sam was notoriously weak-bladdered and generally the first to crack. Indeed, the other two were practically relying on it…
“Bottoms up, then,” Liz said, raising her half pint glass to her bright red-painted lips.
As usual, the first four pubs passed without any incident, and the girls were able to catch up on each of their days and gossip and relax a little. İstanbul Escort However, by the time they reached the fifth, the Prince of Orange, Kate and Sam were both starting to show signs of discomfort, both of them with tautened features, moving anxiously from one leg to the other as they stood at the bar waiting to be served. By now all of them had drunk two complete pints of beer, and their stomachs were full. Mature brunette Sam could feel her distended stomach pressing against the tight waistband of her pin-striped pencil business skirt, and rubbed it absent-mindedly to try and lessen the terrible pressure. She wished she had been able to wear something with a bit more give in it!
Sam pressed her thighs together. She wished she could cross her legs, but it wasn’t really comfortable in such a tight skirt. Then abruptly she gasped slightly as she let an involuntary little squirt into her knickers, quickly clenching her muscles and trying to squeeze it off, but feeling the spreading warmth and dampness as her panties clung more urgently to her pussy, and the crotch of her sheer black nylon tights began to moisten. Glancing quickly down, she was relieved to see that none had made it onto the floor. She might just be able to pretend that nothing had happened.
Kate meanwhile tapped a foot on the ground as they stood in the bar, and gave Sam a thin, sympathetic smile. Liz simply looked composed, and smiled demurely at her two friends.
“Something wrong, ladies?” Liz asked, smirking, as the drinks arrived.
“I hate you sometimes, you cast-iron bladdered bitch,” Sam groaned. She was starting to bounce up and down on her heels, doing a little dance of desperation. She looked at her watch. More than another two hours to go! There was absolutely no way she was going to last even half an hour, let alone two! At least she could try and get out of this pub before she disgraced herself in public.
Suddenly Kate gave a little “oh!” of surprise, and there was a faint but still clearly audible ‘splat’ from the carpeted floor. It might have gone unnoticed under normal circumstances, but the finely-trained ears of both of her friends immediately picked up on it and both turned to look at her. Between Kate’s strappy black heels there was a small but clearly discernable wet patch on the floor.
“Pissy pants girl!” hissed Liz, triumphantly.
“No, no,” protested Kate, red-faced with embarrassment, “I… I just spilled my drink, that’s all!”
It was so unfair, she thought! Just a little squirt in her panties and they had both bloody well noticed it, damn them! She cursed her little black silk knickers for not being substantial enough to contain the involuntary spasm. She had deliberately worn her briefest pair so that they dried out faster, but the tiny triangle of silk covering her pussy was utterly incapable of absorbing even the tiniest slip. Even now Kate could feel it clinging wetly to her nether lips.
“Bullshit,” Sam said, relaxing a little — although not enough to lose control herself — she was close herself and she knew it! Indeed, she was very grateful that at least now she wouldn’t have been the first of them to lose it for once. She leaned in towards Kate so that she wouldn’t be overheard by the other patrons of the bar, and whispered to her friend: “You pissed yourself, girl! If we were to feel your knickers now, would they be wet, or dry?”
“Ohhhh!” Kate wailed, “it wasn’t a proper one! Everyone has a little squirt first! That’s not fair! Now all of my changes of clothes will be for nothing!”
“Well, maybe it wasn’t enough to justify a forfeit,” Liz admitted generously, “but definitely enough to be counted as having lost. Drink up, Pissy Pants Girl,” she smiled, tossing her mane of blonde hair, “we’re leaving.”
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