I woke up the next morning thinking of Daisy. Never before had I been so excited about chores. Assuming her offer the day before hadn't just been blowing smoke, she'd be over soon to help.
I went downstairs for breakfast like usual. I sat with my grandmother and discussed what needed to be done. She was pleased that I both remembered the chores and made no attempt to get out of them. She regaled me with a brief story about my mom, who apparently hated doing chores.
After that, she told me what needed to be done. The first and foremost chore was cleaning the attic, something she absolutely could not do given her age, and something that had been left undone for many years. I pleased her again by saying I was happy to do it.
I'd be happy to clean out dead rats from underneath the house if I got to do it with Daisy.
After breakfast I eyed the clock and headed for the attic latter. Any minute, I thought, pulling it down.
As if on cue, the moment I put my foot on the first rung there was a knock on the door. I rushed to answer it.
“Morning,” I said, my eyes looking her up and down in an unintentionally bold way.
“Morning....” She responded wryly. She looked me up and down just like I had her, though in an even more obvious fashion.
“Sorry,” I said, smiling nervously. “Your shoes are nice. I couldn't help but look.”
She snorted. “My shoes, huh?”
I invited her inside and she followed. Daisy was wearing a pair of long, tight, blue jeans that clung to her in ways that shouldn't have been legal. Her top was a white, low-cut blouse. It clung to her as tightly as the jeans, pressing into your breasts, making the outline of her bra strap visible through the shirt, but it also came down low, exposing a fair amount of cleavage.
Whenever I looked down, all I saw was her plump butt and thick thighs and her hips which seemed just the slight bit wider than would have normally been on her body type, and when I looked up, her boobs were staring me in the face.
It's going to be difficult remaining calm today.... I thought, half-excited, half-nervous.
It was strange, even after all we'd done together, after all the embarrassment we'd shared in the last few days, after having rekindled years of friendship, I still felt a drive to impress her. A nervous energy that told me not to say anything stupid—or least not too stupid.
“So we're doing the attic, huh?” She asked, standing akimbo and looking up the latter.
“Yeah, apparently she wants me to throw away everything up there except family stuff. You know, like photos and that kinda thing.”
“Throw away everything? How much is everything? How big is your attic?”
“Climb on up and find out.” I offered, gesturing toward the latter.
She looked up into the attic again, skeptically, and then put her hands on the latter and her foot on the bottom rung. “Let's see what we got here.”
She started climbing and when she got to where her head was poking in through the roof, I put my foot on the bottom rung and looked up. I jolted in surprise, having somehow forgotten about the minor detail of her ass being one foot away from my face.
These jeans.... I thought, taken aback. They fit her... so well. Any pair of jeans her size would have form-fit her body to a degree, but these seemed as if they made her ass bigger, more jiggly, more voluptuous. The denim even creased a bit with her flesh just below the cheek, like it was holding them in place.
The only downside to the view was that it was 90 degrees above me.
“Holy hell!” She said, her head turning back and forth. “This thing is huge!”
“Hurry up.” I called out. “I'm getting dizzy down here staring at your butt.” I realized this would have been a perfect moment to smack her on the ass, but I chickened out.
She climbed into the attic and started speaking before I even got my head past the ceiling.
“This thing is so big. It has it's own floor and everything.”
“Does your attic not have a floor?” I asked.
“No, just insulation. And it isn't anywhere close to being this big. This is like.... a studio apartment in the city!”
I laughed and stood up, but I had to keep my head crooked to the side to keep from hitting the roof. “I don't think it's quite that big.”
“No, I'm serious. Look at this thing. Like it's absolutely filled with stuff, but once we clear it out, you'll know what I mean.”
“I know what you mean,” I said, grabbing a box and blowing some dust off it. “I just don't think it's that big.--Plus, you're forgetting, I played in here before it was completely filled with crap.”
“Crap?” She asked, mildly alarmed. “Oh, that is where you're wrong, you sweet, young, naive child. I can accept the stuff about the attic not being big, but this is definitely not 'crap.'”
“This is literally a box of old paper.” I said, tilting it toward her. “This couldn't be crappier if it was literal feces. See? There isn't even anything written on it.”
“Yes, maybe the untrained eye sees paper. City eyes see paper. But to someone who knows not where to look, but how to look.... This is a box of memories.”
I laughed again. “This might be a good time to tell you that you're free to take anything in here that you want.”
She stood up and looked around the attic. “Like a kid in a candy store....”
We both started on different sides of the attic. She gravitated toward the back, toward the 'real gems' as she'd called them, and went toward the larger stuff by the window. Every few moments I'd have to turn around to shove something into one my garbage bags, and every time I did, I caught Daisy in a new, equally compromising position.
Toward the beginning, she sat cross-legged facing away from me. The first thing I saw upon turning around was that her shirt had risen up exposing her lower back, while her jeans had been pulled down, exposing the top of her panties. Peaking up just above the hem of the denim was a soft, gray, elastic strip that said 'JANES' on it, and below that the beginning of dark blue fabric covered in some kind of pattern.
Soon after that she called me over to look at something. It was an old trinket, certainly interesting, but hard to focus on, as she remained in her sitting position while I loomed over her. And if that wasn't bad enough, she held the trinket next to her breasts. I could see between them and the entire tops, and even a bit down the front of them, toward the inside of the bra by her nipples—though I couldn't quite see the nipples or the areolas.
And then I heard her complain. A quick explicative. I'd known by the sound and by half-glancing back when I went to throw things in the bag that she was now standing and reaching over the various boxes and obstacles to get things from the back, so it was partially my fault when I heard her curse again and turned completely around to find her butt a foot away from my face again. At some point she'd shimmied over to my side and had her butt nearly against the back of my head. After a second of surprised staring at her groin area, she cursed again.
“Damn it! If I don't get this thing soon I'm gonna start pissing.”
I looked at her butt for a few more seconds.
She's been over for less than twenty minutes and I've already seen part of her panties, 80% of her boobs, an up-close view of her butt, thighs, and groin more than once— and she's already complained about needing to pee....
I think this is going well.
In an act of sudden inspiration, not knowing what else to say or do, I reached out and smacked her ass. She gasped and her body jolted in shock. Her feet spread but her thighs came together in awkward fashion.
“You dick!” She called out, pushing herself back over the piles of attic rubbish into a standing position. “Of all the times to smack my ass....” She grumbled.
“Bad timing?” I asked, wryly.
Her cheeks darkened even more. “No,” she said. “It'll take more than that to make me piss myself.”
“Oh?” I asked.
“Yeah. And I know that's what you were trying to do. This time it was only a leak, though.”
I laughed. She pouted.
“Don't laugh! It was only a drop anyways. You wouldn't even be able to see it. Like, if I showed you, you'd see nothing.”
“If you... showed me?” I tried to remain calm and cool, but my throat tightened from the sudden mention of unmentionables. “Uh, how about your prove it then?”
“What? By showing you my panties?”
“...I don't know how else you'd prove it.”
She cocked an eyebrow. “You wish.”
I shrugged and she just shook her head.
“You're an even bigger pervert than I remember.” She turned around and headed back toward the giant pile she was leaning over before.
Didn't you just say you were about to piss your pants...? Does she even have to piss, or is she just messing with me? Maybe it was the position?
“What's that supposed to mean? I asked, feigning offense. “When was I a perv?”
“You say like that it wasn't totally obvious you were always looking up my skirt back in the day.”
I blushed a bit and paused. “...It... wasn't that obvious.”
She turned around and gave me a look.
“It's not like you made it easy on me.”
“Did I make it hard?” She turned back to the pile and started to arrange the objects—this time starting with the items in front instead of leaning forward.
“How do I say this.... You weren't exactly modest....”
“-Are you calling me a hoe?”
“I'm not calling you a hoe. I'm saying you weren't... afraid. Like, you weren't afraid.”
“Afraid to be a hoe, you mean?”
“No! No, no, I just mean, like... um....”
“I'm just messing with you.” She laughed. “Oh. Don't make me laugh.”
I watched her ass move back and forth as she sifted through the odds and ends.
So she does have to pee.... And as usual, she's holding it.
“But yeah, I'm just screwing with you,” she went on. “I was just being a kid. Might have been hoe-y in the city, but out here the rules are different. I”m sure you know that better than me, though.”
I cocked a mischievous eyebrow. “True, but you say 'back then.' What's different? If the rules are different how come you're so much more reserved now?”
“Reserved?” She said back, slight appall in her voice. “What? You mean because I didn't show you my panties a minute ago?” She chuckled. “You sure are desperate, aren't you?”
“...Not desperate,” I answered. “More curious.”
“Curious of what?”
“Curious if you really leaked. You didn't prove it after all.”
She stopped and turned around, catching me as I stared at her butt. “Do you really not believe me?”
“Uh... if I say no are you gonna take your pants off?” I laughed.
“Nope. You wish.”
“It would certainly make the chores more interesting....” She turned around and returned to the objects in the attic. “...But yeah, I suppose I believe you, but like... did that little tap really make you leak?”
“That wasn't a tap. You smacked my ass and I wasn't expecting it.” She paused a moment, and then continued. “But yes, it really made me leak.”
“Wow. You're sensitive.”
“Like I said, it wasn't a lot. It was... just a few drops. A tiny leak.”
“I'll have to remember to slap your ass more often then.” My cheeks reddened after saying this, and the ensuing silence did not help.
She responded several seconds later. “You better be careful. More might come out next time.”
“Yeah?” I asked. “And how much is 'more?'”
She snickered. “Depends on when you slap my ass, I guess.” Daisy dropped another item into the pile at her feet. She eyed it for a minute, and then bent forward, slipping a hand gingerly between her legs as she did it. She used her free hand to get the pile ready, and then pulled her other hand from her groin, half-squatted, and scooped it up. When she stood back up, she crossed her legs and stood there for a moment.
She walked toward the garbage bag next to me, balancing the items against her stomach. “Honestly, if I had to go bad enough and I wasn't paying attention, slapping my ass would probably make me lose control. At least for a few seconds.” She looked right at me as I held the garbage bag open for her. “Wouldn't be the first time.”
“You mean... someone has made you piss by slapping your ass before?” I asked tentatively, not sure which answer I wanted to hear.
“No. I mean it wouldn't be the first time I've lost control.”
I swallowed. “You say that like it happens a lot....”
She was mostly turned away, but I saw her make a face. “Not a lot. But... yeah, sometimes. Like I said, I like holding it, and sometimes that gets me into trouble. And other times I just can't hold it.”
“So, uh, that's pretty funny.”
She glanced back and smiled. “Funny, huh? You aren't laughing, though.”
“Um, well, y-yeah. You'd have to tell me a funny story to make me laugh.”
She stopped sorting. “A funny story? You mean a story about a time I've pissed my pants?”
“Yeah.” I replied, my cheeks on fire. “One of these elusive times you lost control. But you know, a funny one.”
She turned around to face me. The moment she did, I realized she had a land between her legs again.
Is it really that bad? She has to hold herself and she's just sorting stuff like it's no big deal? If she pees her pants in my attic.... I mean I won't mind, but that's a bigger deal than in the woods through a swimsuit.
“Well....” she said, looking down at the floor bashfully, her lips contorting into a smile. “I do have one story that I have to admit is pretty silly.”
“Yeah, but... um...” She looked down and shifted her hips a bit. Her thighs grinded together and her weight went back and forth between her feet. “I'm about to show you the story of how a girl pissed her pants in your attic. I should probably go pee first.”
I frowned. “You can't just leave me hanging. We were just getting to the good part.”
“You say that like I'm gonna take an hour.”
“Any time is too long. It will ruin the ambiance.”
“Um, well....” She looked back down at her shuffling legs. “...I... suppose I could hold it. Yeah, I think I can hold it for a quick story, but if I stand here it's gonna leak down my legs.” She kneeled down and shifted until she was sitting with her knees on the floor, one foot bent a bit to the side so she could press it into her crotch. “Dang, it's bad. Almost leaked kneeling down.” She laughed.
“Wow, it got bad really fast.” I said
“I drank a ton of tea this morning. Probably too much. And honestly, I kinda had to pee when I left the house.”
“You had to go before you even left...?”
“Well, yeah,” she said, her cheeks darkening a bit, like a child caught doing something they weren't supposed to. “I told you before it feels kinda... good when I hold it. I just thought I'd be able to hold it longer.”
“Oh.” We sat in silence for a few moments. I wanted to say something to keep the conversation going, to distract her as much as I could before her story, but my mind went blank.
“Anyway, super quick before I explode. So I was in school at the time, and I was in one of those classes where you're never ever allowed to leave, right? So normally I pee before class, but for some reason I didn't this time. I think I was talking to my friend or something and I just decided to hold it. It was really dumb to do.... The sort of thing that's caused accidents for me before, so I should have known better.” She laughed. “But I decided to risk it. I thought 'what the hell, I can hold it. I'll just make a run for it as soon as the bell rings.' It was the same thing I always thought before I decided to hold it.”
“How bad was it?”
“Before class? It... wasn't super bad? I wasn't dancing around or anything, but waiting an hour—especially with the way I hydrate—was a risk. I just wanted to talk to my friend, and plus, I knew the longer I waited the better it would feel. Holding it in school was something I tried to get over, but....” She smiled sheepishly. “It was just too tempting. I hydrate constantly so I constantly had to pee, and once I held it for a bit, I'd get the urge to hold it longer, until it eventually became impossible to avoid. And of course, the more I gotta go the better it feels so....” She shrugged.
“So you like to hold it as long as possible? Even in school? Where a lot of people could see you... um... you know....”
“Pee my pants?” She said the words as if they were light, but every time I tried to say them they felt heavy against my tongue. “Yes. I said it wasn't smart.... And like, I tried to stop, but I just... kept doing it. Every time I'd piss myself or have a close call I'd just end up holding it again.” Her back straightened and she squirmed a bit. She leaned forward. My eyes inadvertently went to the cleavage of her heavy breasts.
“Wait a second, how many times did you piss yourself in school...?”
“A few times. But seriously, it's really, really bad for some reason. I gotta finish this story or I'm gonna pee in your attic. So I'm sitting in class, right? And it's getting worse and worse by the second. I'm looking at the clock, but it's moving so slow, and I can tell it's gonna take too long. About halfway through class I raise my hand and ask to go, but the teacher tells me no, so I just put my hand down and curse under my breath.
At this point my feet are kicking nonstop and I'm getting really close to using a hand. At the time I was convinced I was gonna have an accident, but I guess God was on my side or something because I somehow managed to hold it until the end. By the end I had my hand buried between my legs and I was leaned super far forward—kinda like I am now, actually—and I was afraid to move cause all my pee was like, ready to come out.”
“Did you leak at all? I-I mean, I can imagine if you had to go that bad a little probably came out. I know if I was holding it that long I'd have probably leaked....”
“Yeah. Over the last like, twenty minutes I felt my underwear getting wetter. Like it rubbed against me every time I moved. And I felt a couple of tiny drops come out. Around the last like, 5 minutes, I did have a major leak, though. I'm not sure if any got on my jeans, but there was probably at least a tiny drop. No idea if anyone noticed or not.”
“So you think it was enough to go through your underwear?”
“It was enough to soak my panties from my vagina to my butt. I think my panties managed to hold it all, but some might have overflowed when the leak happened. Panties can hold a surprising amount, but only if you pee slow....”
She squirmed again and bit her lip. “Anyway! It's was the last five minutes and I was like, on the verge of peeing everywhere. When the bell rang I was the first out of my seat. I grabbed my backpack and nearly ran out of the room. Every step reminded me I'd wet my panties. I was a little worried my pants were wet, but honestly, I was pretty much completely focused on making it in time.” She smiled sheepishly.
“So the halls filled up fast, and I was trying to duck through people, but I couldn't get them to move. I was extra in a hurry because the nearest bathroom was one of those teacher bathrooms, but they kept this one unlocked because the actual bathrooms were so far and it was so much faster if kids used it when they got excused during class. The only problem was that there was only one toilet, so if someone got there first, I was gonna have an accident for sure.”
“You knew for a fact you wouldn't be able to make it to the other bathrooms in time?”
“I didn't even know if I could make it to that bathroom in time. My panties were getting wetter with every step, and I was honestly praying I didn't explode right there in the hallway. So I moved as quickly as I could without losing control or running into someone and when I saw the door, I just bolted. I felt this weird twinge in my vagina, and a few moments later... I started to piss myself.” She laughed.
I smiled back at her, and swallowed.
“Thankfully, I was super close at this point and I was peeing pretty slowly. And even more thankfully the door was unlocked. If it had been locked, I'd have made a huge-”
Daisy suddenly went silent. A moment later, she inhaled sharply and sneezed.
She sat there for a few moments after the sneeze, staring down at the attic floor, a look of confusion on her face. Then her eyes went wide. She looked at me, and her cheeks darkened.
“Fuck.” She got to her feet and scurried toward the stairs leading out of the attic.
My eyes immediately went to her ass. There was moisture on her blue jeans, a small line of wetness starting on her crotch and then extending down in a few uneven splotches to a small, circular spot between both of her butt cheeks. I looked down at the spot where she had been sitting and I found a tiny puddle, about an inch in diameter.
I stared at the spot for several moments, before hopping to my feet and hurrying to the attic latter. I looked down and saw her darting away. I climbed down and followed after her.
When I reached the floor, she was out of sight, but I saw light pouring into the hallway from the bathroom at the far end. I hurried in her direction, curious as to why the door was open.
If she had to pee so bad she'd piss herself from a sneeze, then wouldn't she need to pee the moment she made it to the bathroom...? Could she still be holding it?
When I approached the door, I heard it. I heard it before I peaked around the corner, but I told myself I hadn't. My initial thought was that I'd heard something , but that I didn't know what that something was. I walked in front of the open door as inconspicuously as I could.
Daisy was sitting on the toilet, peeing forcefully into it. Her blue jeans were pulled down past her knees, but she was handling a pair of blue panties covered in some kind of childish design I couldn't make out from the distance. They were pulled up to her thighs, stretched out so she could examine the large wet spot that darkened the crotch.
When I appeared, she looked over at me. Her body tightened a bit and her legs snapped shut, changing the sound of the liquid splashing in the bowl.
“Sorry,” I said, reflexively, hiding behind the wall next to the door, listening closely to the sound of her pissing and replaying what I’d just seen in my head.
“No, I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't have time to close the door.”
“That big of a hurry, huh?”
“I was peeing before I got my pants undone.”
“W-Wow.” I swallowed, glad she couldn't see the look on my face.
“I'm amazed I didn't piss my pants going down the ladder. I did a little bit, but I think my panties caught most of it.”
“How bad is the damage? Is it... really visible?”
“It's... not too bad,” she said. “My panties are soaked, though. I'm definitely going to have to change.”
“How bad are your pants?”
At this point, her peeing started to come to a slow, pattering end. It had been a fairly powerful and decently long pee, but not long enough for someone who'd lost control.
She doesn't have the best control in the world, does she...?
“Well, I felt some on my thighs when I got down the ladder and once I got into the bathroom I started to leak, so I was peeing pretty hard by the time I got my panties down.”
I stood there, too shocked to move. Too flabbergasted to say anything. When her stream finally stopped, I waited for the sound of toilet paper ripping, but it never came. I heard the shuffling of clothes, and then the toilet flushed. “Okay, you can look now.”
I turned the corner and found her standing there, still pulling up her jeans. They were at her thighs, but she quickly pulled them up to her butt, struggling a bit to fit her butt inside.
She looked down at her own groin, going as far as to bend forward and pull the crotch of her jeans out as much as she could. Then she turned toward me and looked absently back over her shoulders and pushed out her butt to see if she could see the wet spot there. My eyes jumped to her legs. There was a patch there, about the size of a softball around her crotch, most of it hidden between her legs, but a bit extending down her thighs, and some of it extending forward for my viewing pleasure.
She turned around and tried to look over her shoulders again, aiming her butt toward the bathroom light, which gave me an excellent view of her behind. The wet spot there was the same as what I'd seen in the attic, a small patch extending to the base of her butt cheeks, but below that was even worse than the front. Some piss had rolled back off her panties and moved to travel down her legs. There were two strips of dark running sideways on her thighs, one extending down in a few narrow lines. It was the sort of pattern that was painfully obviously piss; the sorta of thing that no amount of spilling or sitting in wetness could ever replicate.
“Yeah, I'm gonna have to change. I can feel it. Especially my panties. They're cold on my vagina.”
I licked my bottom lip nervously. “Yeah, I can imagine. That's a lot of pee down there.”
She frowned. “It's not that much. Just a little accident.”
“A little one?” I pressed. “So you have bigger ones than this?”
She smiled at me and cocked a brow. “Maybe. But if I do you'll have to wait and find out for yourself.” She moved toward me. “You should be pretty pleased. You got to see my wet panties after all.”
I swallowed, and tried to pretend my face wasn't as red as it felt. “Y-Yeah, but I didn't get to see you wearing them. Only the wet spot.”
“Oh? You got to see them as I was pulling up my pants, didn't you?”
“Yes, but... that was just from the side. I didn't see the wet spot while you were in them.”
She eyed me for a few moments, her expression curiously blank. “Aren't you a greedy one?” Her voice was low now.
My heart pounded against my chest. “C-Can you blame me? Just look at you.”
This made her smile, but only a small smile. “If I show you my panties, will you move and let me go change?”
I was standing in the doorway, but she knew I'd have moved if she'd asked. But she'd never asked. She'd never even stepped forward to indicate she wanted to pass.
I swallowed, hard, hard enough for her to hear. “Yeah.” I whispered back.
Still eyeballing me, she reached for her jeans and undid the button. I heard the zipper go down slowly. I wanted to look down, to see her as she loosened her jeans, but her soft, sultry eyes held me with their gaze.
“Check the hallway to make sure your grandma isn't out there.” She said, her voice low and slightly urgent now.
I turned around and leaned back to peek my head out of the hallway. When I turned back, she'd pulled her jeans down a few inches, to the point I could see the beginning of her thighs peeking out, but not so low that I could see where the panties slipped under her and disappeared.
I gaped at her, trying not to seem too awestruck.
She pulled the jeans open wider, letting me see a good portion of her upper lower half, enough to see to just where the wet spot had risen. “Satisfied?” She asked, gingerly zipping them up and rebuttoning the pants. “You got to see my wet panties just like you wanted.”
“I am satisfied,” I said, feeling a strange nervous exhaustion take hold of me.
“Good.” She moved to pass me. “I'll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to change and maybe rinse myself a bit.... Oh, and Jacob?” She stopped next to me, only inches from my body, so close she had to look up to meet my eyes. She swallowed with uncharacteristic bashfulness and looked back at me with a serious, defenseless expression. “I'm not a hoe.”
“-You're the only person I'd ever do this for. I know I mess around a lot, but... I just thought you should know that.” And with that, she moved down the hallway, down the stairs, and then went home to change.
I returned to the attic and returned to sorting through the old goods. The next thirty minutes passed in a strange, nervous anxiety – a strangely excit ing , anxiety. Images of her wet pants and panties kept flashing through my mind, and that was to say nothing of her in panties alone. They’d fit perfectly against her body, as if they were made for her. Almost as well the her jeans.
When she did return, she came back up to the attic without any mention of earlier events or showing any obvious embarrassment at what had happened. I watched her enter, expecting a new pair of jeans to replace the old, but only found a pair of running shorts. The thin ones that could barely touch mid-thigh at their longest, yet were still considered publicly ‘decent.’
I turned away, embarrassed. It was hard to look at her body after what I’d just seen. All I could think about was seeing more of it—both more of what had happened earlier as well as more of the body itself. Every time I looked over it seemed like I caught her in some other vaguely erotic position. Sometimes she’d be leaned over and I’d see her boobs dangling or her shorts would slide up the slightest bit. One time she was on her butt and had her knees in the air. She called my name and when I looked over, I found the shorts pulled tight against her crotch and the sides completely up to the tops of her thighs.
Occasionally, the shorts even got compressed or moved to the side, flashing a brief bit of her panties. The shorts were thin enough to show the lines of her bikini panties clearly whenever she bent forward, but not enough to show the color of the panties through the fabric. Despite this, whenever the shorts got moved awkwardly, the miniature panty shots shone through boldly, as the panties were black and the shorts themselves were red (with the overdone white hems to give them that ‘running’ look).
It wasn’t long until she dismissed herself to pee. I figured that after her surprise accident she’d be a bit more careful for a bit—at least, that’s what anybody else would have done. She had a history of being unusual, especially when it came to pee related things.
It took me some time to build up the courage, but when she returned, I managed to ask the question I’d been ruminating on for some time, wondering if it was wise to ask, especially since I basically already knew the answer—just minus the details, which I desperately wanted to hear.
“So you never told me the end of your story.” I said, not meeting her eyes.
She looked at me in silence for a moment. “Oh. You mean the pee one?”
“Yeah. You got… a little distracted toward the end there.” I chuckled and she chuckled back, blushing a bit.
“’Distracted….’ Yeah, something like that. But, yeah, well, in the end I peed my pants obviously. I rushed into the bathroom and at that point I was like, already peeing myself, but the moment I got the door locked it really started to flow. Like, I ran for the toilet but I could already feel my legs getting wet.”
She chuckled. “I actually remember reaching for the button of my jeans as I turned around, but I was peeing, like, pretty much full force, and knew it would take too long to get my pants down and all that…. I really didn’t want to make a big mess on the floor so I just kinda… sat down.”
“You… sat down?”
“Yeah, like, I just peed through my panties.”
“So you managed to get the jeans down, but not your underwear?”
“No, I peed through the jeans too,” she said, laughing. “It all happened so fast and I panicked. I mean, I was peeing so fast that the few seconds it would have taken to do my buttons and zipper and then pull them down would have been a disaster. Like, walking over to the toilet I literally heard that ‘srhrhrhr’ noise for a split second. I really burst.”
I sat there silent for a minute, my face turning warm. “A n-noise? What do you mean?”
“It’s like… there’s this sound that pee makes when it comes out really, really fast into panties, or like, I guess any tight clothes. It’s like a hissing, but not like the regular hissing noise women sometimes make when they pee. Though, I guess sometimes you can hear both.” She laughed again. “I think it’s worse when the clothes are already wet, though…. Oh! You remember when I lost control in my swimming-suit?”
I nodded. I had most definitely not forgotten.
“It made the sound then. Like, really, really loud, cause it was a bikini. I guess it’s cause of the material or something…. Did you hear it?”
“I… did.” I replied, feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything that was going on. “It was...” I swallowed.” It was loud. Was it that loud in the story?”
“Not that loud, no, but I certainly heard it. It got louder when I sat down.”
“So it continued? Like, when you were peeing through your pants on the toilet?”
“Yeah, it always makes that noise when I pee myself on the toilet. At least when it’s bursting out. I’m not sure why, exactly. Maybe something about the position of my vagina? But it does it a lot when I’m standing too, so I dunno.”
“…You say that like this kind of thing has happened before. Like, the peeing your pants on the toilet.” I shifted a bit, hiding my obvious arousal from her.
“It has. Many times, actually. The urge gets worse once I get into the bathroom, and sometimes, if it’s bad enough, I start peeing too early and it’s not even worth pulling them down anymore. It usually happens in the morning, like if I drank a lot the night before or didn’t wake up to pee or just lied in bed and tried to hold it for too long. But thankfully I usually shower in the morning, and I sleep in my panties, too, so it’s really not that big of a deal. I mean,” she laughed. “As long as I make it to the toilet in time. Cleaning anything larger than a little splatter off the floor really sucks, especially when you first wake up.”
I took a deep breath. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to press further. Her frankness and her… specificity had been deeply satisfying, but emotionally taxing. “That’s… wow.”
I can’t even imagine what this girl’s underwear drawer looks like. She can’t possibly clean them all out immediately. Most of them are probably pretty badly stained.
“Sorry, TMI?” She asked, turning back to her attic duties.
“Not at all. I find that kinda stuff… interesting.”
“What kind of stuff,” she pressed. “You mean pee stuff. Er, like bathroom habits?”
I swallowed and my eyes widened a bit. It was pretty clear that I was turned on by her poor bladder-relieving habits, but neither us had yet put it so bluntly. “Um… yeah. Stuff like that.”
“Okay.” She said, pausing for a moment. “I suppose I’ll have to tell you some more stories some other time then. I have lots.”
Daisy didn’t respond to me. She just kept up with her work, moving and trashing dusty old items from a different generation. But there was something in the way she moved her hips. Something in the way her butt swung just a little too far to the side when she moved, the way the corner of her tail flicked when she leaned forward.
She was pleased with my response. Happy to hear my interest and obsession show so obviously in my voice. Maybe she wanted to tell me more, maybe she just liked the attention. In all likeliness, this would not be the last story I heard from her, and what happened today would likely not be the last ‘incident’ involving her and her pants.