The one particular quirk I remember about Emily was her penchant for wetting herself when she was excited. Well, that’s what I was thinking when we met again after a long absence. She met me from the station after a tedious train journey, during which I was reliving the things we used to get up to. It was as much as I could do to stop myself coming in my pants.
She was looking fantastic. New short haircut, tight grey skirt to the knee and shiny blouse accentuating her full breasts.
As she slipped into the driver’s seat, I glimpsed her stockings, which she wanted me to know she was wearing. I had already noticed her suspender bumps. As we kissed again, her open wet mouth made my cock throb. We couldn’t wait to get back to her house, so drove along the country lanes at speed.
We were all over each other as soon as she closed the door behind us. We just about made it to the kitchen kissing passionately, as I ran my hands over her skirt, feeling the outline of her panties, anticipating the present to be unwrapped underneath. My cock was hard against her soft belly. I pulled her tight skirt up revealing her sheer black stocking tops.
“Did it turn you on dressing up especially for me like this?”
Her answer was to pull me closer to her, grabbing my tight arse.
I hitched her skirt up higher, revealing her rose pattern panties, setting her off beautifully with black stockings and kitten heels. Reaching my hand down over her silky crotch I found she had already wet through her panties in anticipation. I knew what was coming next.
Without bothering to undress her further, I pushed her up against the kitchen surface, pulled her panties to one side and entered her in one swift thrust. Emily threw her head back, and as her knees began to buckle, she let go a stream of pee through her panties all down her thighs. She made no attempt to hold back (she must have been full, saving it for me), and with no embarrassment, continued to spurt in little floods as I fucked her.
We were doing it in a puddle on the kitchen floor, her shiny black kitten heels covered in her own piss. Her pretty panties and the hem of her skirt were soaked through.
I flipped her round, and Emily offered me her upturned bottom, her skirt bunched up around her waist, and her rosy panties now see-through and clinging to her. It was time to do some spurting of my own, this wasn’t going to take long…
I held her firmly by the hips and she tilted her bottom up even more for easy access. So much so, that with all the slippery wetness and her eager opening, I actually slid straight into her puckered rose arsehole.
Emily groaned gutturally and I could feel all the hot spunk I had been saving for her, welling up in my balls. In the absence of my cock, she jammed two fingers into her sopping sweet Fanny Adams, and flooded the floor with more pee.
That did it for me. I couldn’t stop hold back anymore and emptied my balls into her hole. Emily groaned as she completely lost control, wetting herself copiously, her knickers round her ankles, her arsehole spasming randomly.
Spent, we looked at each other somewhat shamefaced.
“You must think I’m such a dirty slut?”
“Yes, MY dirty slut.”
“Let’s shower and go to bed.”
We did just that, and I noticed with a smile that she took a clean towel from the bathroom and laid it on the bed…
