K is for Kinky (6 page)

Now she was especially glad that she was headed toward Daniel's office, to drop in unexpectedly.

She shifted sensually in the driver's seat.

She knew that one type of guy would run screaming from a woman who was unabashedly pissing herself and expecting him to like it. But
Kara had discovered, long ago, that she could easily live without that type of guy.

Driving toward Daniel's building, Kara wondered if she was the only woman on earth who wrote flowery but crazy-lewd love letters to herself in her head—in the voice of a refined, imaginary man who lived to watch her urinate. Though the topic of her fantasies might have caused many jaws to drop, it was the voice rather than the content that puzzled Kara herself. Where the hell did that vaguely old-fashioned, literary tone even come from? English One-Fucking-Ten, way back in freshman year?

But she recognized that she wanted, someday, to have a man like that—a man whose soft, soothing voice would fuck her with its eloquence. A man who would convince her, with earfuls of beautiful words, that the sight of Kara Rebecca Wallace taking a leak was positively sublime. That's why the fantasies were so powerful, she realized. They represented exactly what she craved. She wanted to be someone's pissing paragon of loveliness.
Paragon
—now there, thought Kara, was a nice leftover word from college. She wished she remembered more words like that.

With aching reluctance, she resolved to put her fantasies aside for the moment, lest she end up losing it—and seducing the seat of her car with her fresh piss, rather than Daniel.

Right where the street skirted the park, she hit a red light. She looked around at the scenery while her knees twitched together, and she saw a young man lying on his back along a thick stone wall. His girlfriend stood above him, her feet positioned on either side of his waist. Her knees were bent enough to allow her to reach down and clasp both his hands. Kara noticed that the young woman was weaving gently from side to side, as if she were peeing lovingly onto her boyfriend. She realized that she was projecting her own obsessions, that this was almost certainly not what was happening; but, symbolically, the feeling Kara got from the scene was of that kind of intimacy, that kind of tender anointment (as the voice in her head might say). Her hand fluttered down from the steering wheel and pressed tightly against her underwear.

The green light snapped her out of it. So much for keeping her mind off her favorite topics. She was still managing not to dribble pee into her panties, but they were getting damp enough that it almost didn't matter. With a laugh, she acknowledged that, however you sliced it, Kara R. Wallace was all about wet panties this afternoon.

A few minutes later, she had parked her car and was heading up the stairs of a nondescript downtown office building. Daniel, who wrote content for various local websites and dabbled in tech support, inhabited a tiny space—a desk, a filing cabinet, a phone, a bathroom. He'd be alone there, as always, and it would be the perfect setting.

She walked through the office door, ready to make a big splash for…

A man she'd never seen before?

“Oh, hi,” Kara said, at a loss, her crotch pulsating with all kinds of insistence. “I was looking for Daniel.”

“I think he'll be out the rest of the day,” said the stranger. “He had a meeting with a client. I'm just here to work on his quarterly taxes till I take off at five.” The man instinctively looked at his watch.

Ah,
Kara thought.
The occasional accountant needed by every small business.

But she had not come here to piss herself for an occasional accountant.

“Gotcha,” she said. “Do you mind if I use the restroom before I leave?”

Sitting on the toilet, she almost felt like crying. This pee should have been for
him,
damn it. But she quickly saw that a sulky, defeatist attitude was stupid—and unnecessary. There would always be more pee. It was her birthright.

Even with her bladder empty, the fantasies made her squirm. As she switched the engine off in her driveway, one hand was already active inside her moist panties.

She had the rest of the day free, and she had a pretty good idea of what she was going to do with it.

As horny as she was, Kara giggled at these fanciful words—words of her own creation. But hey, she thought, why the hell shouldn't she be poetry in motion, pissing down magic for the right observer?

Lying on her bed and petting herself between orgasms, she remembered how it had all started. The college party at which the guy she'd been hot for all semester had shown up—on the arm of one of her friends. She recalled, in her mind and in her panties, how she'd become so excited, watching from across the room as he nibbled her friend's ear and stroked her friend's ass, that she had literally wet her pants. And how fiercely it had turned her on to feel herself losing control between her legs, under such sexy circumstances.

Her mind raced while her fingers worked in her panties. Finally, even the seductive voice in her head was drowned out by her shrieks.

Following an afternoon of slow- and fast-cooking masturbation, Kara showered and dressed for a friendly dinner with Daniel—which she knew it would be premature to describe as a date. But despite the sexually noncommittal stance that Daniel had taken thus far, Kara had high hopes. She felt sure that he was the type who would stare transfixed, rather than turning away, when she stood before him and suddenly, studiously, watered her panties, looking him in the eye so there could be no mistaking the deliberateness of her act.

She made a mental note to drink plenty of wine, and plenty of water, at the restaurant. If she could just get him back to his place, or her place, with a full bladder rocking inside her body…

Daniel was late for dinner, and Kara decided to get a head start on the wine and the water. She sipped the two in alternation, enjoying the music that was piped in over the restaurant's speakers…and wondering where he was.

He was sincerely apologetic when he phoned her, fifteen minutes after he should have been there. He explained that he'd been stuck in a monster traffic jam, with no reception. And that when he'd finally been able to connect, he'd found a frantic message from a client whose computer had crashed—one hour before vital spreadsheets were due on the desks of some bigwigs. He bowed out of dinner but suggested she call him in a little while. Maybe they could catch a movie.

After her solitary dinner, Kara profited from the summer eve sunlight to take a leisurely stroll around the immediate neighborhood—a quiet section of the city. As she did so, she began to feel the effects of the wine and water she had diligently consumed.

This wasn't one of those times when it came over her suddenly and made her rush for a bathroom. No, she recognized it as one of the slower-building needs, when the reservoir would inch gradually upward over the course of an hour or so. This was something to be savored, as she would savor the sensation of ice cream melting reluctantly against her tongue. She continued her stroll, nurturing the sweet, arousing ache in her groin. The scents of countless trees wafted through the air, and even that felt arousing to her.

As the voice resonated from her mind to her pussy, Kara was surprised to find that she had miscalculated, and that she really had to pee now. Perhaps, she belatedly realized, it was because she had failed to account for the accelerating effect of being so aroused.

She could scurry back to the restaurant and apologetically avail
herself of their facilities. Or she could hustle to her car and head for a nearby supermarket, convenience store, or fast-food joint. And yet…she was by herself on a secluded, residential block. Her eyes widened and her clit tingled when she realized she had an excuse to do something she'd always wanted to do.

Twice today, she had been cheated out of wetting her panties for Daniel. The least she could do for herself, Kara reasoned, was grab the consolation prize of peeing on the sidewalk. Her hands began to tremble with excitement.

There was a specific way she needed to do this, as it had been rehearsed in her mind countless times. Her panties came off. All the way off.

She closed her eyes as she began, and she let the gentle voice in her mind describe what he would have seen:

As the sun began to set, she walked jauntily back to the restaurant parking lot, a woman who had just pissed on the sidewalk and wouldn't have missed it for the world.

Sitting in her car, nude and damp under her skirt, she fingered her slick lips with one hand while dialing Daniel with the other.