Caught Wetting The Bed

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This story is narrated in the first person. Though I am not a woman, this is definitely the type of woman I want to meet, to be intimate with.

Please enjoy, be safe, and be wild.

* * *

I was 40 at the time.

I had recently married Don. He was 10 years older. It made sense, I wasn’t in love, but I had my future to think about. I didn’t have a career. I didn’t have a trust fund. I’d never been married.

He was well to do. A company director, divorced, 2 kids. Nicole was in college. Her younger sister, Su-Anne lived at home, had dropped out of college, was working at a fast food joint.

Their mother had to be a stunner. I’d not met her at that stage, but judging by Don’s looks, and theirs… well they must’ve got their looks from her.

He did have a good physique at the time. So, their athleticism was, at least in part, down to him. But their stunning looks… Nicole bleach blond, Su-Anne jet-black, had to come from their ma. Flawless. Perfect skins. Pointy noses. Piercing blue (Nicole) and green (Su-Anne) eyes.

I had turned Don’s head a full 180 when we met. I mean, I’m ordinary, in most every sense. But our minds met, and a panther or something, was released within me. I found myself taking absolute control. I didn’t have to think about it. There was no premeditation. It was all completely natural. I’m so glad it happened.

I had been temping at the time. I had worked late, gone down to the bar at the Hilton one block down. He had done the same. Didn’t want to go home. Wife trouble. I noticed him. He hardly noticed me. I saw something I wanted. He was disinterested to say the least.

I walked over. I leaned in. I mean, I’m no knockout, okay. Really ordinary. Not the kind of girl who can just pick up a guy. But his energy let me in. So I leaned in. I brushed his cheek with mine, quite unintentionally. I could smell him. Felt him in that scent.

“I just went to the ladies” I whispered, “and slipped my finger in my cunny. Then I touched my moisture behind this ear. Can you smell me?”

I hesitated. This was something I had done before, the finger in the pussy thing, the pheromones behind the ear, or on the neck, or even between the now sagging cleavage. But tell a guy? Never! And yet, here I was doing just that, and gushing wet because of it.

I held fast for a couple of seconds. Might he scent me? I pulled back, never more confident in all my years, than now. I looked directly into his green eyes. He was blushing, holding back a little laughter, letting a little out.

Oh yes, that was the beginning. Boy did I do things to that guy on our first date.

* * *

When I first met the girls, they were very cold. They loved their mom, but chose to stay with dad. Well, Su-Anne Isparta Escort stayed with her dad. Nicole had pretty much moved out, living in a dorm at college, but she would come by, weekends.

I was an impostor. I’d stolen their dad from their mom, ruined their ‘perfect’ little fucked up nuclear family. It’s not fair of me to be so blunt, the girls were hurt. But actually their parents owed me a debt of gratitude. They were both released at last, from the façade of a partnership, and exposed to reality, all be it the reality of divorce.

Had I met her at the time, Don and I would probably not have lasted. Her beauty, I would have wanted it too, preyed on it, maybe even succeeded.

In any event, she was out of the picture fast. I had moved in, enduring Su-Anne’s resentment, and Don’s besotted sexual devotion.

How does an ordinary looking, ageing, sagging, 40-year-old, win a guy from a SUPERMODEL mom? Blond hair, blue eyes, curvaceous. Tits, ass, legs. She was 6 foot. She was a stunner.

I’ll tell you how. Through no effort of her own. Life, circumstance, and of course, the most powerful sexual tool of all, the mind, will do that for you.

* * *

The panther had demands. It was like an alter ego. Whereas before, masturbation was reserved for the right night, with the right bath temperature, and the right glass of claret, now it was a daily, sometimes twice daily necessity. If Don wasn’t around, I’d pay an impromptu visit at his office. A blowjob, or a quick fuck in a back room, anything to get it off.

But if he wasn’t available, it was me, and all me. I began to do things in a moment, that later would stop me in my tracks.

I’d be in my car, and I’d pull over and just close my eyes and let the recollections run through, and dissipate. I’d be in the mall, and I’d have to sit down, grab a coffee, and pretend to page through a magazine, whilst really coming to terms with the things I’d got up to. Su-Anne’s hairbrush that had, that very morning, been right up my ass. Or Don’s electric toothbrush that got me off on the toilet seat, or…the day I discovered Nicole’s pink Mini Rabbit, with that tiny little attachment.

(For the record, I did use antibacterial cleanser afterwards.)

* * *

Well, one such morning, having had a lie in, and feeling rather nice (if you like) I had wandered into Su-Anne’s room. I was looking for her car keys. She had been away for a week with her boyfriend, and Don had asked me to start up her car and give it a run.

The keys weren’t anywhere obvious, so I began looking around in earnest. I ran through her effects. Make-up, jewelry, costume jewelry. Nothing extraordinary, tampons, some rubbers, 2 vibrators…and a large and ornate Isparta Escort Bayan journal / book. She had recently shot a portfolio, she was going to model.

I finally found them in a jeans pocket, in her laundry container. I grabbed them and took the car for a spin. Later that afternoon, I replaced the keys, precisely where I had found them. I didn’t want her to suspect any snooping on my part. That was a mistake. Whilst rummaging in the container for the jeans I found a pair of used knickers. Then another, and another.

I became hotly aroused. They were soiled, after 3 or 4 days they carried a very full aroma. So I lifted them up, one after the other, to my nose, and yes, then to my mouth. I felt extremely sexy at this point. I wanted visual stimulation too, and her portfolio was right there…

I paged through, rubbing myself through my track pants. I had no panties on beneath, and it felt delicious. I began to wet through. As I paged through Su-Anne’s portfolio, I progressed from the pure facials, to some body poses, a few of her breasts (I could see she’d had them done) and one particular shot…

It was exquisite. She was wearing a loose shirt, probably the photographer’s, and nothing else. Her back was to the camera. She had half turned to face the lens. A one-quarter profile of her face was exposed. But further down, below the hem of the shirt, her full and firm but was revealed to the camera. Oh God what a shot. She was divine. I simply wanted to worship that ass. It was soft, supple, young. It was everything a bum should be. The picture was classy, understated, professional.

I looked and it again. I took the most soiled of the knickers, inhaled and began to suck at the G-string line. I was tasting that very arse. I closed my eyes, squeezing my hand with my thighs. I was going to cum this way; I wasn’t even rubbing any longer, just squeezing, eyes shut.

As the rapture approached, rather painfully on my trapped hand, I got a fright. What if I had wet through. I didn’t want to stain her bedding! There wouldn’t be enough time to wash and dry her duvet, replace it. She was coming back this evening. She might suspect something.

I stopped. I got up. I looked down. I couldn’t focus, so intense was my state. I tried to focus again. And there it was, a milky strip of my pre-cum, quite thick on the bed. God! Fuck!! I put the knickers down, next to the portfolio album and began to step away. I turned and looked up, and there she was, standing in the doorway.

How long had she been there? Perhaps she just came in…perhaps.

My hopes were dashed. She was red, furious. “What the FUCK do you think you are doing here! This is my fucking room!”

She moved swiftly to her bed, Escort Isparta and surveyed the evidence that was to sentence me. “Who in HELL gave you the right to go through my things. This portfolio is private, it’s MY work, it’s MY career!”

If she hadn’t suspected up to that point, the next second clinched it. Her jaw dropped. She was stunned to silence. But not for long.

“I do NOT fucking believe it! My UNDIES! What the F…what were you doing? What were you doing! Answer me! Now!”

If she was red, I was crimson. I was also faint. The pussy juice dried up instantaneously. (I later, in the sanctity of my own bedroom, noticed I was completely stained and camel toed. My track pants were maroon, so the evidence was undisputable. God, how embarrassing.)

“Su-Anne, I came to look… I came to look for your car keys, to give it a run… and I…um…I…”

“Who the fuck told you to do that!”

“D…Don…”

“Shut the fuck up! Don’t even try it. You fucking DYKE! What exactly do you think you’re doing here? You fucking stole dad away from mom, you’re a money grabber, and now you’re… oh God! That’s disgusting, you’re masturbating with my…looking at my…”

I was now waiting for the final admonishment. I anticipated progressive verbal abuse. From dyke, to whore. From whore, to slut. From slut, to prostitute. She would gather all the mistrust and resentment that she (and probably her sister) had built up to that point, and unleash it on me. I was waiting.

I was also on the verge of tears. Shock alone had held them back. Every glance from her clear green eyes pierced me. I wasn’t able to hold her gaze. I was, I had thought, vanquished.

But life has a destiny all of her own… I made my way to the door, cowering as I moved. And then, she liberated me, quite unwittingly. She said, “You’re lucky I don’t tell dad about this.”

I looked up at her, she at me. I looked at the stain on the bed. She followed my eyes. I bit my lip… “Sorrrrry….” I whispered.

She noticed my crotch. I followed her eyes. I looked up and we both tried to hold back the laughter. But it was absurd, she looked down at my crotch again, and said, “Well did you at least get off?” We both burst out, laughing with our very souls. A wave of delight bathed us. It was the first time we were not enemies, and it was an immense relief.

I tried to reply, but tears streamed down, in the laughter, in the release, “…No, I was soooo close…” And that set us off again. “Well for the record,” she said, “I also think I’ve got a pretty hot ass.”

Suddenly the deadlock, the fury, the very scimitar she brandished over my head for a full 10 minutes, was gone. My back straightened. I approached her. We hugged, and laughed a little more.

I left her to unpack.

* * *

Dinner was pleasant. The most pleasant it had ever been. Su-Anne and Don spoke about her holiday. The panther was resting. I ate. I cleaned. I gave Don a blowjob. And early next morning, I went to Su-Anne’s room to fetch the laundry.

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