Naughty naughty girl

My girl friend Stella and I were at a popular local rock club.  We both knew a bunch of people there and we were off by ourselves talking to folks.  I was talking to some musician friends, drinking beer, and occasionally even paying attention to the band that was on stage.  I‘d glanced around a couple times looking for her, but not with any great concern-- we‘re a pretty independent couple sometimes.


However, it was getting on 12:30 and I still hadn‘t spotted her recently when I saw a buddy of mine wander in.  He saw me and came over to say hi.  We greeted each other, and then he said "I think I saw your woman out in the parking lot.  Maybe you oughta check up on her a bit," he said and looked at me meaningfully.  He said he saw her in a silver Blazer and he described about where it was parked.  I still didn‘t really figure anything was amiss. She was probably out doing a line of coke, something I didn‘t really approve of, but I never had much luck telling her what to do or not do along those lines.


Out in the parking lot I located the vehicle he‘d described.  A guy and a girl did in fact appear to be making out in the front seat. I felt a twinge of anger in my gut, and it grew to more than a twinge as I got closer and was able to recognize the girl.  It was definitely Stella.  I watched their tussling around for a minute to to try see exactly what they were up to, but then finally decided to intervene. I strode over to the passenger side door and pulling the door open demanded, "What the hell do you think you‘re doing?"


Startled, they untangled themselves.  She was quickly trying to adjust her clothing.


"Who the fuck are you?" the guy asked struggling to regain his composure.  It was someone I‘d seen her talk to before, but I didn‘t know him.  "It‘s my boyfriend," she told him by way of explanation.


I leaned into the cab.  "Hey, man, I‘m sorry, man," the guy said thinking maybe I was coming after him.  I had no problem with him.  He was doing what any guy would do.  It Stella I was angry with, and I grabbed her wrist and pulled her roughly from the truck.


Her feet hit the gravel of the parking lot.  A half full bottle of beer tumbled out with her and landed on the ground.  I saw other empties in the truck.  Private party-- cute!

She was tugging down her skirt which, though very short to begin with, had ridden up almost to her crotch.  You couldn‘t blame the guy for going for it.  Her shirt was short, taut across her breasts, and she had long, tan, bare legs.  She patted at her hair which was also messed up.  Yup, they‘d been at it pretty good.  A guy can tell when his woman is all worked up.  Looking her in the face I could see she was flushed.  "C‘mon, we‘re going home," I said, again grabbing her wrist.

"I‘m going back in," she replied defiantly and trying to pull away.

"No sweetheart," I replied, "I‘m afraid your night is over."

"I‘m going in," she said still tugging to get loose.  "I have to pee," she added, and she tugged at her skirt some more.  She looked quite drunk.
"Were going home," I answered firmly, and again attempted to pull her in the direction of our car.

Now Stella has an almost adolescent streak about her when she‘s done something wrong.  She doesn‘t become remorseful or apologize, she just gets petulantly mad back.  This is particularly true when she‘s drunk or high and I saw that coming out now.  I‘d caught her with another guy, but she was mad at me because I‘d spoiled her fun.

"Let go of me!" she said.  "I wanna go back in.  I have to go."

"You are going home, young lady," I said.  "You can wait ‘til we get home."  I was furious with her.

I got her to the car, still pulling her by her wrist, and unlocked the passenger door.  I shoved her not too gently into the seat and slammed the door.
I got in and started the car.  She was saying nothing, not looking at me.  She had her legs crossed tightly, and was bouncing her knee rapidly up and down.  So she had to pee-- fine!  It didn‘t seem to have been a problem a few minutes ago when she was making out with whoever.

I turned out of the parking lot and we started home.  "So what were you up to?" I now asked.  "What were you doing with him?" "Nothing.  I kissed him good night.  Big deal."

"That looked like more than just a friendly good night kiss to me," I raged.  "Why did you go out there?"

"He had some coke," she said.  Yup, I‘d been right about that. "How much coke did you do?"

"Just a couple of lines.  It wasn‘t that great," she volunteered. I believed her on this point.  Her jaw didn‘t exhibit any of the telltale signs.  But just a small amount of coke can apparently really trigger her sex drive.  I‘d seen that before.

"Why were you making out with him?" I said getting back to the main point of misbehavior.

"I wasn‘t!  It was just a good night kiss."  She stuck to her story.  Helluva a good night kiss.

We were stopped at a long red light.  I fumed silently.  I looked at her.  She was fidgeting, still bouncing her knees.  Maybe she really did have to pee but she wasn‘t saying anything about it now, suffering in proud silence.  She looked over at me briefly, and then went back to looking straight ahead.  We started moving again.

We argued some more, me trying to get her to admit what she was up to.  I became more accusing.  "So did he get you pretty horny?" I asked.  She was silent.  "Were you going to fuck him?"  Still no response.
We stopped for another red light.  I decided to see for myself how aroused she had become.  It‘s easy to tell with her.  I reached over and started to force my hand between her legs. "What are you doing!" she yelled pushing my hand away and keeping her legs clamped.  "You just leave me alone."

I persisted and finally she opened her legs enough to leg my hand through to her crotch.  One thing about Stella-- she‘s not too good at keeping her legs together if a guy wants in.  I deftly slipped
my middle finger around her cotton panties and into her pussy. Sure enough, her vaginal walls were slippery and dripping wet.  I was getting ready to withdraw my finger when I noticed that at the top of her vagina I could feel her bladder, very plump, very firm, very full.  She really did have to pee and pretty badly too, I suspected.  I probed the distended wall of her bladder now with my finger and she let out a high sound of surprise.  She began struggling to get my hand away.  The light was turning green so I withdrew. "I guess you do have to go, huh?" I said tauntingly now. "I‘ve gotta go real bad," she confessed, but the tone of her voice remained angry.

"It didn‘t seem to matter when you were with him, apparently," I noted. "I told him I had to," she said.  "I was getting ready to go in." She hadn‘t looked like she was getting ready to go in one bit when I‘d walked up.  I turned it over in my mind.  She must have been pretty damn turned on, pretty out of control horny to have been holding that full of a bladder and still staying out there to make out.  If felt myself becoming aroused at the thought of her intense horniness.  I decided we‘d have some fun when we got home.  If she could hold it for him, she better be able to do the same for me! She continued to squirm during the rest of the ride.  She‘d bounce her leg quickly up and down for a few seconds, then pause, and then resume the bouncing movement.  By the time we finally were pulling into our driveway, she was leaning to one side a bit, up on her right buttock with her left hand pressed firmly into the car seat.

I steered the car into the garage, and she immediately jumped out and ran to the door, her keys ready.  I followed close behind her.

Once inside she made a dash for the first floor bathroom.  I darted after her.  I burst in on her, finding her already with panties down, skirt hiked, and starting to sit down. "Oh no you don‘t!" I said.  "You could hold it for him, now you‘re gonna make out with me a little bit first."  I grabbed her wrist again, and pulled her to a full standing position. "You‘re crazy," she shouted struggling.  "Let go of me."  She continued ranting at me.

I got my arms around her and managed to tug her panties back up in spite of her resistance.  I shoved her out of the bathroom, twisting the lock and pulling the door closed behind me.  "You won‘t be needing that for a little bit," I said.

Tugging her in to the living room I explained things to her.  I told her that I was very angry with her, that she had betrayed my trust.  And since she had been a bad girl, there were certain consequences that she would have to accept for her behavior.  "You seemed to have been more than happy to wait while you made out with what‘s his name.  You can just wait a bit more while you make out with me," I finished.  I seated myself next to her on the couch and put my arm around her so she couldn‘t get away. "Let me go!" she shouted.  "You‘re crazy!"  She finally gave up on the verbal abuse and sat and pouted.

I began to kiss her roughly.  She kept turning her face away.  I sure didn‘t seem to be getting the same reception the guy in the parking lot had gotten. I moved my hand to her breast and began pinching a nipple.  "Did you let him do this to you?" I asked.

"Yes," she answered after a moment.  She was ready to admit things now, just to make me mad.

I continued pinching her nips and squeezing her tits through her shirt.  "He was doing this to you?"

"Yes," she answered tersely again.  Her pelvic squirming I noticed was now starting to assume a certain rhythm.  Maybe she was imagining being back in the parking lot.

Now I moved my hand inside her shirt and squeezed her full juicy titties through her bra.  "Did you let him do this to you to?" I said, the sound of my voice getting raspy. "Uh huh," she answered.

My squeezing became more forceful at the thought of her doing this with that guy.  I slipped my hand under her bra now and her breasts fell into my hand.  "And I suppose you let him under your bra,too!"

"Yeah," her voice defiant.  Her sleek bare legs were crossed tightly, her pelvis grinding.

I suddenly pulled my hand away.  "Go get us a couple of beers from the fridge," I said pushing her to get up.  She looked startled to be back in our living room instead of in the parking lot of her fantasies.

She got up and apparently felt the pressure in her bladder again. "Now can I pee?" she said.  She started to head toward the stairs to the upstairs instead of towards the fridge.  I rose quickly. "Don‘t even think about it," I said sternly.  "We aren‘t done making out yet.  You had beers with you in the parking lot, we‘ll have some beers now."

Reluctantly she started towards the kitchen.  It was an open floor plan house and I could see her as she walked to the fridge.  She  was walking half on tippy toes, bent slightly forward.  She opened the door and stood looking for the beer.  She was shifting her weight from one foot to the other, prancing like a little pony. "There‘s still some beer on the bottom shelf," I said.  There should be one Heiny left in back.  Bring that for me."

I could hear her exhale sharply as she bent down.  She found the beers, and popped the top off of mine with the opener on the fridge, and came back in the living room.  She handed the beer to me and I pulled her back down onto the couch next to me.

"Drink up," I ordered.  She took a hesitant sip.  "I‘m not gonna let you go until you finish at least one beer," I said.  She took a few more healthy slurps.  She wanted to complain some more, but she was in proud mode.  I resumed fondling her.  I now grabbed a thigh and moved my hand up towards her crotch.  "Did you let him feel your thighs?"

"Yeah."

"You were quite the little slut tonight, weren‘t you!" I growled.  I slid my hand roughly the rest of the way to her crotch and started pressing against her pussy through her panties.  "Did he feel your little horny pussy?"

"Mm hmm."  She writhed against my hand.

Sliding my finger into her vagina again, I reaffirmed that she was extremely wet.  I didn‘t have to ask if she‘d done this with him. She wouldn‘t have been able to stop him.  Feeling the top wall of her vagina now I noticed that her bladder was noticeably even fuller than before.  It was hard as a rock, the texture and shape like a very large grapefruit.  I gently stroked my finger against its surface.  She moaned and squirmed.  The slightest pressure from my finger was excruciating to her. Then she started trying to break away from me again.  "Let me go!" she said, a frantic tone in her voice now.  "I‘ve got to go, now. I‘ve absolutely got to go!"  Her tone was no longer quite so defiant.

"No, just one more minute," I said.  "You‘ve got to finish your beer and we‘ll fuck for just a second and then you can go."  She shifted quickly back into mad mode, and grabbing her beer drained it, jiggling frenetically the whole time.

I pushed the coffee table back and knelt on the floor in front of her.  I pried her legs apart.  I tugged her panties down and scooted her skirt up a bit.  Her abdomen was visibly bulging.  I ran my hand gently across the curve rising above her pelvic bone. It was also very firm.  This elicited another moan from her and some renewed frantic squirming.

Unzipping my pants, I got my cock out.  I forced her legs apart and moved toward her pussy.  Her arms were straight and she had both hands clenched into fists, pressing into the couch on either side of her.  Her pelvis was still grinding as she struggled to contain the ever increasing volume of fluid. "Oh god," she said.  "I‘m not going to be able to.  I‘m ready to bust."  Her breathing was shallow and fast.
I teased the outside of her pussy for a minute and then slowly started to gently enter her.  She was gasping and panting as the added bulk of my penis increased the pressure on her urinary bladder.  "Oh no, please, let me go.  Please stop.  Please let me go," she began pleading in a high pitched voice.

I moved slowly in and out of her, letting her feel the full effect of my dick as it grazed her bladder wall.  She was biting her lip and moaning.  I did this for a minute or two, and then smoothly withdrew ready to keep my end of the bargain.

No sooner had I pulled my cock from her, than a sudden spurt of pee squirted from her pussy hitting the head of my cock.  She let out a yelp.  A second short spurt erupted, and then a third.  She grabbed her pussy with her hands, stopping her flow.  She was breathing very fast and hard, and her pelvis was writhing.

"Oh god, oh god," she was saying and struggling to get up.  I grabbed her arm and pushed her off the couch and onto the soft carpet of the living room floor.  She landed on her elbows and knees, bare butt up in the air.

"You shouldn‘t have done that," I said softly.  "I was going to let you go.  And look what you did to the couch." From where she was on the floor another several spurts escaped her pussy as she struggled to raise up on her hands.  The last short jet trickled away as she finally squeezed control over her urethra.  She hadn‘t lost much but she‘d made several little wet spots on the carpet, the pee emerging in different directions with each burst.

Now I smacked her sharply across her bottom with the palm of my hand.  She made a quiet whimpering sound and again started dribbling, first little squirts, then a slower leaking "Cut it out right now!" I said.  I waited until she had regained control again and then I pulled her to her feet.

Her bladder I knew would still be extremely full.  The few trickles that had escaped wouldn‘t have gone far towards easing her need.  I escorted her to the dining area to get her off the good carpet.  "You‘re going to have to stay in here until you think you can be a good girl," I said.  "Think how embarrassed you would have been if you‘d done this while you were with that guy!  Come back and sit next to me when you think you‘re OK again.  When you can fuck me without loosing it, then I‘ll let you go."

I went and got another beer for her, putting it on the table.  Then I sat down on the couch with my beer.  She paced quickly back and forth, shaking her hands loosely.  Several times she stopped and grabbed herself, and stood in apparent concentration.  Then she‘d resume pacing.

"Keep your hands away from there," I instructed.  "It‘s not very ladylike, you know."

Her pacing assumed a fever pitch.  She stopped and bent part way forward, jiggling.  She gasped and I heard the hiss of pee escaping again.  I could see a small puddle on the floor where she stood.  I didn‘t say anything.  She resumed her agitated motion, but soon stopped and stood still.  Then she gingerly walked over to the couch and sat next to me. "I think I‘m better now," she said, but she was still bouncing her legs. I began kissing her and fondling her breasts again.  Moving my hand to her thighs, I parted them slightly.  We made out for another minute.  I was getting ready to try to fuck her again when, with a sharp intake of breath, she again began to pee on the couch.  A couple drops squeezed out, and then a couple spurts, then more slower leaking.

I pushed her to a standing position while she was still peeing and shoved her in the direction of the dining area again.  "Get back over there," I directed, "and drink some more beer." I kept her on the edge like that for about half an hour, making her drink more, and watching her struggle when she leaked uncontrollably.  I slipped my finger in her every once in a while to make sure she wasn‘t leaking on purpose more than she had to, but her bladder remained rock hard, maybe even becoming gradually fuller and more distended.  She struggled valiantly but she was also becoming sloppier drunk and was having less and less luck keeping control.

"I guess we can‘t keep you inside much longer with you like this,"I said.  Her panties still lay on the floor near the couch, and somehow had escaped getting drenched.  I grabbed a towel from the kitchen and wiped down her wet inner thighs and her pubes, and then instructed her to put her panties back on.  She gingerly complied. "Fix your shirt," I said.  She struggled to get her bra back down into position and to get her shirt smoothed out.  Now I took her hand and led her out through the garage to the front driveway.  She walked mincingly behind me. "OK, you can go," I said.  "but stand with your legs together." She didn‘t question this, happy to finally have received permission to relieve herself.  She stood arms folded against the chill night air, leaning forward, breasts plump and protruding, and with her legs squeezed together.  She held her breath for a second and then she began to pee and pee hard.  Sheets of water poured down her inner thighs.  Her eyes were closed and I could see her begin to relax as she peed her panties. "Just a minute," I said grabbing her arm and jolting her back to reality.   I pushed her over towards the front steps, forcing her to take a couple steps with pee still squirting from her.  With apparent great effort, she again stemmed the tide. "Oh jesus, don‘t make me stop," she said.  "That felt *so* good."

"I‘ll let you finish, now, I promise.  Just go sit on the steps, legs crossed." I gestured to the front steps.  She walked over and sat, crossing her legs gracefully as I‘d instructed. "That‘s good.  You may finish." She bent forward slightly and then the flow started again with a sharp hiss.  The concrete step beneath her darkened, and then a puddle formed on the step below her, cascading down the remaining steps.  It took almost a full minute for her to finish. I let her sit for a bit. "Are you all done?" I asked.  She nodded.  I helped her up and escorted her back indoors.  Walking behind her, I saw the large dark spot on the back of her skirt and the droplets still glistening on her thighs and calves. We went upstairs and toweled her off.  Then we got in bed and had an intense session of fucking, both us climaxing with great intensity.  We fell into an exhausted sleep, with me cradling her in my arms.  It was the first of many times the she was a very bad girl, and later a very wet girl.