Sara-Jane

Written by smbell

Sara 1, how I met the love of my life.

The girl next door was a nice lass.  I had only spoken to her a couple of times, but I had seen her going out on several occasions.  Early twenties, slim, long dark hair and a penchant for short skirts, split skirts, tight trousers and loose tops.  She tended to be out late most nights, working as a barmaid.  She seemed quite, sober, respectable.  Never any noise from her flat, no loud music, no arguements.  I wished that I could get to know her better, having been seperated for four years, but I could think of no reason why she should be interested in me.

That all changed one night in early spring.  Coming home from a friends house I was not surprised to notice no lights in her flat.  However, as I got to my front door, I noticed that there was some mess in her back garden, that hadn't been there earlier.  I went to investigate, and found her back door wide open, and her home in one hell of a mess.  Drawers tipped out, food scattered everywhere.  Broken china, broken glass all through the house, and all sorts in the garden.  The back door had been forced.  Touching nothing, I went to call the police.

That was when my life changed.  Her laundry basket had been emptied in the back garden.  A pair of her pants was lying on the ground in front of me.  Dirty pants.  Very dirty.  It looked as if she had taken a good dump in them.  I picked them up, looked at them, smelt them.  Lovely.

I couldn't leave these for the police to find, or anything else like them.  Were there more?  A quick inspection found several more pairs of dirty pants, as well as stained dresses and skirts, and unusually stained sheets.  I KNOW that spunk isn't brown.

I couldn't leave all of that for the police.  The poor girl would be mortified.  I quickly gathered up all that I could find, and then went and called the police.

Ten minutes later blue lights heralded the arrival of the police.  I went out and told them all that I knew, which wasn't a lot.  Then I sat back and waited to see what would happen.

It didn't take them long to find the lass.  She was visibly shaken when she saw the mess through her back door.  The police let her take a quick look around inside, to see what was missing.  She came back out, obviously shocked.  That was my chance.  I offered to take her in for a cup of tea, let her phone whoever she needed and sit down somewhere warm and safe.

O.K., I am a bit of a cad.  I was taking shameless advantage of this poor lass, at a time when she was very vulnerable.  But I had no intention of hurting her.  Let her know that I knew, that I didn't mind, that I didn't find her hobby unusual.  Make sure that she knew that her secret was safe with me.  And see what happened.  I didn't want gratitude, her to go to bed with me because she felt obligated.  I wanted her friendship, and whatever might come from that.

I sat her down on the settee and gave her the phone, while making coffee for both of us.  When I came back, she was sitting holding the phone.  "My parents are away, most of my friends have no room, and I am not certain how much I can trust some of them anyway."  She seemed very fragile, sitting on the sofa.  Worried.  Scared.  "I'll just have to stay at home.  Do you know anyone who can secure the door for me?"  She looked up at me.

"I can secure the door, but I don't think you should stay there tonight."  Trying to project reassurance, let her know that she could trust me.  "I have a spare room.  You're welcome to stay here."  She looked unsure.  Change the subject, come back to it later.  She couldn't stay there tonight.  "How much did they take."

She was close to tears.  "Everything.  What they didn't take they ruined.  Even some very personal items are gone."

"I did manage to rescue some stuff from your garden, before the police arrived.  It looked personal to me, and I thought it would be better if they didn't see it.  I have it in the kitchen."  She got up and followed me.

I picked up a pair of yellowed panties and handed them to her.  She recognised them immediately.  "Oh god.  I have this bladder problem and..." she started.

I handed her a pair of brown pants.  "Bowel trouble too?"  She looked really scared now.  Not what I wanted at all.  "Don't worry.  They are yours to take away whenever you want.  I only have them to prevent the police finding them.  I know how much trouble that might be."  She looked a little relieved, but not much.  Not enough.  I picked up another pair of pants, looked at them, sniffed them.  Her eyes went wide.  "What you do is your business, so long as you don't hurt anyone else doing it.  You want to piss and poop yourself.  Fine.  You are far from the only one in the world who enjoys that.  I won't tell."

The shock, on top of all the others seemed to be to much for her.  She was swaying.  I quickly guided her back to the settee, sat her down, sat next to her, but not touching.  Handed her coffee to her.  "Here, drink up.  It will help."  She gulped down the cooling coffee.

There was a knock at the door.  The police.  They had finished, and had arranged for a carpenter to come and secure her door.  She wanted to see what she could recover from her house, so I went with her. 

It was a real mess.  Not satisfied with stealing all of her valuables, the morons had wrecked everything they didn't take.  There was no way she could stay there the night.  Nothing to sleep on.  They had ripped her matress to shreds, and wrecked the base of the bed.  The loo was smashed, the wahbasin, the bath.  The bastards had left her nothing.  She seemed to be getting a little better though, more used to the idea that this had happened.  Once again I offered her my spare room, and she finally agreed.  "Just a couple more things to check, and then we will go." she said.  She went into the understairs cupboard, giving me a fine view of her backside, the bottom of her pants (stained, I couldn't help noticing).  A couple of thumps, a grunt, and she emerged with two carrier bags.  "Well they missed these.  I don't want to leave them here.  Can you look after them for me."  I nodded.  "Here, take these then.  I'll get the rest.  I think they might interest you."  She went back into the cupboard, leaning over further, exposing more of her bum.  I stood back and watched the view, not even wandering what was in the bag.  More grunts, muffled thuds and bangs.   A sudden 'damn', and a small wet patch appeared in her pants.   She backed out, carrying two more bags and a box.  "You saw?"  I nodded.  "Oh well, you knew anyway.  I was trying to hold on but it didn't work."  She seemed much happier now.  The contents of these bags obviously meant a lot to her.  She looked down slightly.  "You enjoyed that, didn't you?"  I raised my eyebrows quizically.  "It sticks out a mile."  Looking down I could see what she meant.

The carpenter interrupted us before this could go any further.  I took her stuff back to my house, while she turned all the lights off, and watched the carpenter at work.  He was quick, nearly finished when I got back.  A couple of minutes and he was gone.

We stood for a moment looking at her house.  "Oh shit" she said.  "I forgot the rubber sheet.  You'll need it."

"Don't worry.  I have plenty."

She took my arm, cuddled into me.  "Why should I let those bastards do me out of my pleasure?"  Why indeed.  "Sit down on the step.  I think you are going to like this."  I sat down.  "I've never done this in front of anyone before.  Not deliberately."  She was standing in front of me, inching up her skirt, revealing her knickers.  "I have got a weak bladder.  But I also enjoy wet knickers.  And more."  Defiant.  Daring me to say something.  I smiled.  "That's why I have no boyfriend.  How do you say 'yes make love to me, but I wet when I come'?"  Her hand was now gently rubbing the front of her knickers.  "I love this bit."  Although it was dark, I could see the front of her knickers darkening.  I could see the insides of her thighs starting to glisten.  I soon heard the pitter-patter of piss on the path.  A dark stream started to run into the grass.  Eyes closed, she continued to rub.  "Oh, that is so good.  The feel of hot, wet pants on my fanny.  They can't rob me of this. "  I leant forward, watching avidly as this lovely woman pissed herself in front of me.  Deliberately.  Whilst wanking.  I wanted her more than anything in the world.

The piss slowed to a trickle, then stopped.  But she was hot.  Her hand continued.  She looked down at me, my face just inches from her soaked pants.  "You liked that?" I nodded.  "Well how about this then."  She turned around, pulled her pants tight into her arse crack, pushed her bum backwards, towards my face.  Inches away, I was going to see something I had always dreamed of.  Hand busy between her legs she grunted, strained slightly.  There was a psst of escaping gas.  Another small grunt.  And her pants started to move.  Another trickle of piss.  A small bulge.  Time stood still as she grunted again.  Nothing.  And then the small bulge became a large bulge.  A large, solid log pushing her pants away from her arse.  Another push, and more appeared, and more.  It was coming easier now, the first large log out of the way.  More and more until her pants were falling away from her, barely able to hold the weight.

Her knees were shaking, she was close to coming.  I stood up, took her in my arms, held her as her orgasm racked her.

She leant against me as she recovered, head lying on my shoulder.  Her breathing slowly regularised.  She finally pulled away slightly, and looked up at me, worried again.  "Well?"  I pulled her back into me, pulled her in with my hands on her bum cheeks, just touching those oh so full pants.  "Beautiful" I said.  And kissed her.  And as I kissed her I relaxed, and let my full bladder empty its contents through my very stiff cock.  Her hand found my cock in my trousers, felt the growing wet patch.  She groaned again.

Finally I broke the kiss.  "Come on, lets get on in."  I led her back to my house, and showed her to the spare bedroom.

"No," she said, "I don't want to be alone tonight."  So I took her through to my bedroom.  Kissed her again.  Slowly undressed her, marvelling at the youthful perfection of her body, leaving her just her pants for modesty, and then put her into my bed.  I stripped rapidly, and joined her, the woman who was to be my partner for ever more.

Part 2

Hi.  I'm Sara.  I'm here to give you the other side of the picture, how I met  Steve.

Background first, so you can understand me.

I was an only child, born of parents with good jobs who wanted to see their

daughter do well.  Perhaps this is where my 'problem' started.  Both mum and dad

constantly pushed me.  I never seemed to do well enough for them.  My friends

were no good, right from my first friend at nursery. None were ever invited

home. My schoolwork was never good enough.  I seemed to spend my whole life

falling below my parents expectations, and I knew they were dissapointed with

me.

I know that my parents meant well, and I know that they love me, but all the

pressure had a rather bad effect on me.  Academically, I did pretty well at

school.  I enjoyed maths and the sciences, and soaked them up.  But I never did

more than thn the bare minimum in other subjects.  And, of course, I was always

alone.  I found my pleasures in the library, walking in the country, or

gardening, rather than with other people my age.

At the age of 8 I was still wetting the bed frequently (two or three times a

week).  I enjoyed this as it seemed to upset my parents rather a lot, but they

didn't know what to do about it.

At 10 I had started to occasionally wet while awake.  I found the warm, wet

feeling quite enchanting.  My parents took me to a psychologist.  He told them

that I would grow out of it as I got older.

I didn't.  By the age of 12 I had discovered the joys of masturbation.  Various

books in the library had helped me.  It didn't take me long to discover how much

better wanking was with a full bladder, and how exciting holding on could be. 

It helped that this was the only way I could get back at my parents, could rebel

against what they wanted.

They still had me down as a night-time bedwetter, and had insisted that I

started doing all my own laundry.  This suited me.  What they didn't realise was

that the bed was normally soaked before I went to sleep, that my knickers were

normally wet, and that I only used the toilet for poop.

Even that stopped when I was 14.  Lying in bed one morning, feeling relaxed,

gently fondling myself, I could feel the urge to poop.  I didn't want to waste

my bladderful, when I could use it for a lovely orgasm, so I held it in while

wanking. Guess what.  When I came, so did my poop.  I felt it starting to push

out of my anus as my orgasm approached.  I couldn't stop.  I didn't want to. 

Feeling my mess filling my pyjamas triggered the best orgasm I had ever had.

That was the end of using the toilet for me.  I used to go in, wait a few

seconds and then flush, to keep my parents happy.  But my pee and poop filled my

knickers in future.

My parents soon caught me, of course.  The first time was when they came home

early from some event, and found me on the lawn in the garden, shorts soaking

and full of shit while I wanked myself silly.  Soon after mum caught me in bed

doing exactly the same.  Back to the psychologist.  Same answer.  She'll grow

out of it.

I was becoming rather an exhibitionist now.  My body was developing, attracting

male attention.  I had kept my knicker wetting etc to myself, but I found that I

could use it as a tool to embarass my parents, so I did.  I started wetting in

their company, and not being discreet about it.

I kept this away from school.  I was already lonely, I did not want to be pushed

further away from people of my own age.  Wetting at school happened in secret,

in the toilets or on the playing fields.

At 16 I discovered sex with boys.  It didn't last long.  By now I always wet

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when I orgasmed.  For some reason, this put all 3 of my boyfriends off, and

suddenly my name was mud around the school.  Still, I was going to college soon

and it didn't matter what they thought.

I spent 2 years at college, and left with good marks.  But my parents had had

enough.  The day I was 18 I was out of my family home.  They did well by me even

now.  They brought me a small house, furnished it for me, and made sure that I

had enough to live on.  And then left me alone.

I soon settled in.  I christened the whole house in a couple of days.  I wet and

pooped whenever I felt like it, wherever I was.  It was lovely.  Freedom.

I met the man next door as I moved in.  An older man, bearded.  He introduced

himself, told me to ask if he could help with anything, and then made himself

scarce.

At first I was a little scared of Steve.  I used to see him watching me.  But I

soon realised that he was just lonely, and enjoyed watching me.  It helped to

bring out the exhibitionist in me even more.  I enjoyed giving him a peek of

nipple, a flash of (clean) pants.  We quite often passed the time of day. 

I soon got a job in a night-club, as a barmaid.  I flaunted myself.  The club

had topless barmaid nights, and I used to be there for every one of them.  I

enjoyed the wet t-shirt nights as well, as I could pee (carefully) on stage,

with no-one realising.

At home I had found, through the internet, that others shared my tastes.  I had

got hold of books, magazines, videos.  But how to meet someone?  I couldn't

advertise in the local press, and the contact mags seemed rather tacky.

Then came the fateful day.

I had woken that morning feeling wonderful, as normal.  A slow wank in bed,

change the sheets, clean the house, change into the clothes I would wear for

work.  Wet the knickers.  And then leave for work.  I could feel my poop

building up.  I had plans for that, and the walk home.

At work behind the bar I had fun.  A little flirting, the occasional leak into

my knickers.  I was hot, wet, sticky, randy.

And then the police arrived, talked to the owner, approached me.  "You have been

burgled.  Can you come with us so that we can see what has been taken."

Everyone was very sympathetic.  I had found some good friends in that club,

although none of them really knew me.  I went with the police. I was scared. 

What if they had found my secret?  The washing hadn't been done in a while.  Oh

gawd, I would have to move.

My home was wrecked.  Most of my valuables had been taken.  The place had been

completely trashed.  My washing was missing.

Steve approached as the police finished showing me around the house.  Asked if

he could take me in and give me a cup of coffee, let me use his phone to phone

friends etc.  The police let me go, as I had given them a rough idea of what had

gone.

He gave me his phone and left to make coffee.  I could think of no-one to phone.

 My parents would be self-righteous, triumphant.  I couldn't phone them.  And I

had no real friends anywhere.  I couldn't sleep in my house.  It was wrecked. 

But there was nowhere else to go.

Steve came back with the coffee.  Askled how I was getting on.  I told him that

my parents were away, and that none of my friends would be in a position to help

out.  I asked him if he knew anyone who could secure my back door, as I was

going to have to stay there for the night.  He said that he could secure the

back door but he didn't think that it would be a good idea for me to stay there.

 When he asked I told him that everything had been wrecked, even my bed.  I felt

very lonely, adn very grateful to him for the offer.  I was sure that I could

trust him, based on what I had learned about him over the last few months.  He

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would look, but wouldn't touch, unless given permission.

Then he told me that he had managed to rescue some of my stuff from the garden,

before the police arrived.  He said there were some very personal items that he

didn't think I would want the police to see.  I followed him into the kitchen.

He picked a pair of pants from a pile and handed them to me.  Piss stained

pants.  Mine.  Oh god, he knows.  "I have this bladder problem" I started

weakly.  He picked up another pair of pants, shit stained.  "Bowel trouble too?"

He lifted the pants to his nose, sniffed them.  "What you do is your own

business.  You're not the only person in the world who enjoys this." 

Had I met someone with similar interest?  Looking down I could see a bulge in

his trousers.  Perhaps this burglary was going to have compensations.

He guided me, in a state of shock, back into the lounge.  I had just sat down

when the police arrived and announced that they had finished, and the property

was all mine again.  They told me that a carpenter would be around shortly to

make temporary repairs to the door.  I thanked them, and then Steve and I went

to see what was salvegable.  I was only really interested in my porn stash,

hidden under the floorboards under the stairs.

Walking into my house, looking around, I realised how little I had that was of

real value to me.  All that I had had was gone or ruined.  However, the shock

seemed to be wearing off a little, and I was beginning to think about the

possibilities of a future that included Steve.  Now seemed the right time to

test the waters.

"The bastards have wrecked everything."  He sounded rather angry.  "You are

welcome to stay in my spare room, for as long as you need."

I looked at him.  Ok, he's old.  As old as my dad.  But he is fit, quite

attractive, intelligent, sensitive, and has similar interests.  "Thanks, I will

take you up on that."  Now was the time to test the waters.  My bladder was

filling, and my bowels were going to need release soon.  "Just one more thing to

check, and then I am done."

I opened the cupboard under the stairs, knelt down and crawled in.  I knew Steve

could see my knickers.  My stained but dry knickers.  The floorboard was still

in place.  They hadn't found my cache.  I pulled the board back, and reached in,

starting to pull boxes and bags of books and videos out.  I also allowed a

little spurt of pee into my pants.  Every time i reached forward I let another

spurt out.  By the time I had finished it was trickling down my thigh. I backed

out with two bags.  "Here, these might interest you" I said, looking down to see

what effect I had had on him.  Bingo.  His interest stuck out a mile.  I smiled

as I turned back, picked up the rest of my effects.

Having got everything I turned back to him.  "You saw, didn't you."  He nodded.

"Liked it, didn't you."  He nodded.  Looked surprised.  "It sticks out a mile" I

said, indicating his groin.  Just then the carpenter turned up, so Steve took th

books and videos back to his while I dealt with the paperwork.  He was back just

before the carpenter finished.

We stood and looked at my house for a moment. I was feeling randy.  Very randy.

I was going to do something I had never done in front of someone I wanted as a

friend before.  Then I remembered his bed.  "I forgot the rubber sheets."

"Don't worry.  I have plenty" he replied. 

I was randy.  I wanted to come.  My juices were flowing.  I took his arm,

cuddled into him.  "Why should I let those bastards ruin my whole day.  Sit

there.  I think you will enjoy this." He sat on the step, and I stood in front

of him.  I slowly raised my skirt, showed him my knickers.  "I have never done

this in front of anyone before.  I have got a weak bladder, but I also enjoy

wetting.  But how do you tell a boyfriend.  'I wet when I come.'  Puts them

right off."  Hand rubbing my crotch, I relaxed, let the waters flow.  The hot,

wet piss gushed into my pants, soaking them instantly, and started to pour down

my legs.  A solid stream was pouring over my busy fingers.  "This is brilliant.

The feel of warm piss in my pants.  No-one can take this from me."  The piss

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slowed, stopped, as I carried on fingering myself.  I looked down at him, leant

forward, watching everything, a hungry look on his face.  "You enjoy that?"  He

nodded.  "Well watch this then."  I turned, pushed my bum towards his face, and

relaxed my anus.  Started to push.  My poop was moving, into my pants, into my

neighbours face.  I had never felt so randy.  I was coming all the time my poop

was pushing out of the back of my knickers, the orgasms growing to an intensity

that I had never known before.  As my biggest one hit me, I felt Steve take hold

of me, hug me.  The first man ever to hold me during an orgasm and enjoy the

experience.  It took me right over the top.  If it hadn't been for him I would

have fallen.

I could feel the weight of my shit trying to pull my knickers down.  My poop was

all over my bum.  I was being held by a man.  I had never felt so secure, so

loved.  I looked up at him.  "Well?"  "Beautiful" he replied, and kissed me.  I

could feel his cock, hard, against my stomach.  A feeling I had though I would

never experience.  And then I felt wetness on my stomach.  Steve was peeing.  I

moved my hand to his cock, marvelled at the stifness, the warmth of his piss.

Finally he finished, and we broke the kiss.  "Come on, lets go in" he said.  We

walked arm in arm into his house.

He showed me into his spare room.  That wasn't what I wanted.  I wanted to be

with him.  "No, I don't want to be alone tonight.  Can't I sleep with you?"

He smiled, and led me to his room.  There he slowly removed my top, my skirt, my

shoes, and then led me to the bed and bade me lie down, still wearing my dirty

knickers.  I suddenly felt very tired.  I heard him undressing behind me, felt

him climb into the bed.  He wrapped his arms around me, cuddled me.  I could

feel his erection against me.  But he moved no further, and in a few seconds I

was asleep.