Have you ever peed on another person?

As a matter of fact, I have peed on someone. My husband, to be exact. If that kinky part of your brain is starting to perk up, go ahead and tell it to go back to sleep. This is not that kind of story. It should have been, and it nearly was, but things don't always turn out as you would like.

My husband and I were sixteen and twenty years old when we first met, and we would often have these silly little pretend fights that led to sex. We still do, I suppose. I had a free period after lunch, and Anthony sometimes drove to my school and parked across the street where I would sneak out to meet him for a midday make out session.

On this particular day, we were in the back of his car, and I was on his lap. He was fully dressed but his pants were already open and his erection was happily poking out. My school uniform was oddly enough designed in a way that made car sex easy. The skirt assured easy access, and the shirt could button down just far enough to free the titties. I still wonder what kind of pervert designed it. It seemed convenient to keep our clothes on, but we'd soon regret that decision.

Anthony had not thought to bring any condoms, but I had a keychain with a clear plastic bubble that contained a single condom. It was a gag gift from a friend, and the package said something like "in case of emergency, break plastic". He tried to grab the keychain, but I took it and held it away from him, jokingly telling him that it was too sentimental to be used. We "struggled" to gain control over the keychain with the condom, all the while his erection was bopping up and down underneath me.

Anthony was obviously getting impatient, and he decided that the quickest way to get the condom was to tickle me. And he did. I am extremely ticklish, and I begged him to stop. I told him that I was going to pee if he didn't quit, but he thought I was joking. I was not.

I tried so hard not to pee, but suddenly it just happened. You might be thinking that it was a couple of drops or a slow trickle, but my bladder was pretty full. Anthony continued to tickle me for another second or two, until he felt the warm pee run down on him. By then it was to late for me to stop the flow, and I continued to empty my bladder all over his lap. I was horrified, and I just kept repeating that I was sorry. My poor boyfriend was completely disgusted and yelled "You peed on me! You really peed on me! Why didn't you tell me that you were serious?!!". It isn't easy to speak clearly when you are literally having the piss tickled out of you, but I did everything in my power to communicate the urgency. To this day, my husband insists that I was to blame for not making him stop, but I know how hard I tried to prevent the disaster.

And it really was a disaster. The backseat was soaked in my pee, and so were our clothes. It no longer seemed like such a good idea to keep them on, because now we were stuck in a parking lot with clothes that were wet and heavy with pee. The only comfort was that I drink a lot of water, so the pee itself could have been nastier. My husband's grandma happened to live right behind my high school, so Anthony climbed over the seat and drove us to her house. We ran through her living room, where she was playing cards with some friends, and into her bathroom. We got in the shower together and cleaned up, but Grandma had followed us and was standing on the other side of the door making small talk. I knew her because one of her sons was my host dad, and she asked Anthony if that was Vicky (she continued to call me that until the day she died) who he had dragged into her bathroom. He said yes, and begged her to go away, but she insisted on knowing if we were okay. Finally he just told her that we'd had an accident, and could she please go get us both some clean clothes. Nothing shocked that woman, and I am pretty certain that I heard her say "That happens to the best of us" as she moved away from the door.

We had time to have an awkward cup of coffee with grandma before Anthony drove me back to school. I had left the library with my school uniform on and my hair nicely done. I returned an hour later with wet hair, wearing oversized men's sweatpants and t-shirt with a picture of a kitten cuddling a Labrador on it. It was decidedly preferable to going to school soaked in urine, so I just kept my head held high and waited for the day to end.


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