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    The Wet Panty Girdlle

    (Current Rating 72/100, based on 16 votes)

    Many years ago my first wife left me for a married man. A flying officer, from a nearby air base. I was to say the least devastated, and suffered as many people do. About nine months later, I received a letter from the man’s wife, Jill, as a result of this I rang her. We had both been deeply hurt. We had suffered a lot in common. This led to a number of calls. During one of them the subject of frustration came up. I was both surprised and excited when Jill said that she suffered most in bed at night, more and more, she was having to resort to masturbation. Which concerned her because she tended to make a noise when she climaxed, and was afraid she of waking her young children.

    This sort of talk galvanized me to action, I drove down from the midlands to SW London to meet Jill. Having got to know her over the phone, I was pleasantly surprised to be confronted with a small but attractive brunette with a fulsome figure, I took her to lunch wined and dined her. We got on so well that in the afternoon parked on a near by common, we did much to alleviate one another's frustrations with some heavy petting. This together with the comfort we both derived from one another led to further visits, so a relationship began.
    Shortly after this I was promoted, it involved a move to NW London. Being closer I was able to see her more frequently. It was soon apparent that Jill was far more sexually experienced than I, she cunningly let me think I was making the running.

    Each evening when I arrived at her flat, she would always be occupied putting her children to bed, there always seemed to be a sex magazine and books etc., laying around. Of course while waiting I would pick up whatever reading material was hanging around. It took two or three times for me to realize what was going on. I noticed that each night when she came to settle down in the lounge, she would sit opposite me on the floor with knees drawn up and her panties on view. She would ask me to tell her what I had been reading. Usually she would have read it before hand. That would provoke discussion on the sex subject, each sounding the other out. As we talked, I could not help keep glancing at the gusset of her panties for wet tell tale evidence of arousal. No doubt she was doing her fair share of crotch watching. I became a fast learner, and there in her little flat, we both found delight and solace in one another's bodies. I lost a lot of my inhibitions. Then one night the conversation was about female masturbation. We where both feeling very horny and she deliberate pulled her skirt up and started to fondle herself through her panties, her plump thighs flexing as her excitement grew. I must have looked gob smacked, and she explained: "Sorry but I am dying for a pee, this helps. Of course if you think I am doing something else at the same time that makes it more exciting." Naturally I wanted to join her on the floor but she asked me to "Just watch, but take your prick out so I can see if watching me masturbate makes it grow". By the time she pulled her blue panties down to her knees.

    I could see they were wet with pee and I was treated me to the site of her plump thighs slicked with love juice and the sound of her cunt slurping as she put two fingers in and out. When she invited me to join her, it was just as well she had brought herself to the verge of coming, for as I entered her I was only able to restrain myself for a few thrusts before shooting my load in her tight but slippery hole. Even then she was already coming before me, a clever girl. However the moment I withdrew, she had to dash down the stairs to the loo. I don't think she quite made it because when she returned and sat down again she was wearing clean white panties.

    That set the pattern for subsequent evenings. On one occasion she proceeded to relate between and during bouts of sexual activity, how she had done it on a train, in a park and doing it with her ex while her younger brother was in the room. The act being concealed by her long wide skirt as she sat facing him on his lap, her panties pulled to one side.

    On all these occasions she had to keep her panties on, and finished up with wet knickers. Having teased the life out of me, when we where about to make love again she slipped out of my grasp saying: "we don't want me to wetting myself again do we? ,I had better go and have a wee first". Thinking about it while she was gone, I thought I would have preferred her to have run the risk.
    But the incident that really made her unforgettable occurred some time later.
    As I said she had a flat, it was on the second floor of a large house and shared a bath room with two bed sits, on the first floor.
    On the night in question we had been out for a meal, and had a fair bit to drink. On our return she took the baby sitter down stairs to see her off. When she returned, she seamed agitated. "That bloody man from down stairs has just gone into the bathroom and he is filling the bath, he will be ages there and I am busting to pee."

    As a result of some earlier petting in the car I was aware that under her skirt, she was wearing a panty girdle. A sort of stretchable bikini corset which where popular at that time (it helped the waist line in but was very tight). Jill wore her panties under it together with suspenders and stockings. I immediately pulled her down on the settee and put my hand up her skirt. "This will take your mind off wanting to pee," I assured her. I battled to get even one finger beneath the leg of that formidable garment, however once I was able to tease her clitoris it seemed to wore.

    Then having managed two fingers in, Jill was starting to enjoy the stimulation, when she suddenly said: "Oh! No! Don't please... Stop I'll wet myself!" and, as if to prove the point, a small amount of hot liquid ran over my finger. Hastily withdrawing them I noticed that the girdle snapping back tightly, held back Jill's tell tale dribble. She scrambled off my knee and bolted across the landing and down the stairs. I was sympathetic but in my highly aroused state, more than disappointed at this intrusion. She reappeared very quickly saying: "He has got the radio on in there and either can't or won't hear me asking him to hurry up "

    I was all for resuming where we had left off. But Jill wanted to remain in the kitchen, where the door was opened on to the landing so she would hear the man when he left the bathroom. I put my arms round her to comfort her. She was now trembling with her need, and me standing behind her, I pushed my hand down the front of her skirt and fingered her vagina through her panty barrier. I had read in one of the magazines that when a woman is bursting to pee and craving to come the orgasm is much more intense. Poor Jill's situation was turning me on so much I would not have bothered if she had peed all over the floor. I said as much to her, she giggled and lent against me so I was able to ease the tight waist band of the offending garment away from her lower belly, thus relieving some of the pressure. Oh! That’s better she sighed, thus encouraged I cupped her cunt with my hand. To my surprise her hand joined mine, directing my fingers to the right spot. I had freed my prick which I firmly pushed against her bum. Jill despite, being on the verge of peeing in her panties pressed against my prick.
    Then as she began to feel the onset of orgasm she relaxed, and as she did so, she started to pee, actually soaking her undies and stocking tops.
    Embarrassment appeared to have asserted itself and she pulled away from me and squatted down to regain control. I was too excited to abandon our progress, and suggested to Jill, that I help her upon to the sink unit.

    Because she was small I could lift her on to the sink unit, put her feet in the bowl, while siting on the draining board, pull her bum forward and relieve herself in the sink. She said: "Yes but be quick its running out of me, I dare not stand up"
    Responding to her plea, I picked her up. With her maintaining her fetal position. I planked her down on the unit. I tried to get her panties off so she could pee unchecked .

    But first I had to get her girdle, panties, suspenders, stockings down. She could do little to help as by now both of her hands where employed holding her self between her legs.
    However the panty girdle being soaked, proved difficult to remove. I persuaded her to stand, so I could pull down her wet garments. As I slid the girdle together with her panties, stockings, and suspender belt down, pee was coursing down her legs. At last I got the soggy bundle over her feet, she sat down, and putting her head on my shoulder and I said: "Please do it now."

    To my ever lasting credit I did not say "WHAT". I placed my fingers back where they had been, and played gently with her clitoris as she pissed with increasing force, the warm stream squirting against my hand, to fall in to the bowel below. She began to thrust herself against my hand, then as her climax over took her she lifted her feet and drummed her heels on the working top opposite. She was right about the noise. Even with her head buried in my neck I heard the stream of obscenities, and it drove me wild, but not the sort of thing for children to over hear. Eventually the spasms simmered down, and the sound of piss hitting stainless steel died away, still resting her head on my shoulder she repeated again and again: "Thank you, thank you, oh! That was so good". Then after a little while she said: "And now you".

    She swung her legs off the top and slid down so she was standing on her tip toes, her legs apart. Taking hold of my cock she directed my prick in to her wet tight cunt. With her back to the unit, she warped her legs round my back, using her cunt muscles to grasp my cock while sliding up and down my bursting erection, from balls to tip. I felt her legs and arms go taut as I exploded into her repeatedly. Then as the moment receded I heard her say: "Oop's Oh Dear!" and I felt a warm trickle flow over my balls soaking the front of my jeans. "Oop's," she murmured. "Sorry it must have been left over, still if you stay the night they will be dry by morning. Then when we go to bed I will make up for it." I fully intended that she should. But first I needed the bathroom, I went quietly down the stairs and to my surprise the door was open. I expected to find a steam filled room (after all the previous occupant could not have been long gone) but it was dry. I pondered this as I stood peeing. Before I left, I felt the surface of the bath with my hand, it was stone cold.

    This girl was skilled in the practice off acquainting me with her appetites, as I found out repeatedly as the relationship flourished.

    … to be continued.

    Author: Undine

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