Amber Fountaine stories contain sexually explicit descriptions of consensual sexual activity and are not suitable for reading by anyone under the age of 18 or anyone offended by reading such material. These acts include gay and bisexual activity as well as water sports, diapers, cross-dressing and other fetishes and perversions that may please the author's whims. The characters in these stories are fictional, but are based on the author's true experiences, as well as the experiences of others he has met.
Little Piss Freak (Bi, WS, TV) by Amber Fountaine
Most people call me "Bruce". But my wife often calls me her, "little piss freak". And that was before the kids moved in next door. Now she has all kinds of cute nicknames she calls me. But I'm getting ahead of myself. She has decided that I should write this story so that everyone will know about me and how I came to be the person I am today. She especially wants the wives and girlfriends of other potential sissies to learn how she used my 'piss freak' personality to bring out my true nature.
I was given the 'piss freak' nickname back when Sharon and I were still dating. Neither of us had a lot of experience, so when our relationship got to the sexual part, it was like two kids with a new toy. We tried everything we could think of, or had ever heard of, and as often as possible - which wasn't very often considering that we were both in college and not at the same college. Yet in a way, that separation might have worked in our favor.
At the time, even private conversations on the phone weren't easy. We both had roommates and finding a time to talk when one of us didn't have a roomie listening was difficult too. So we had a lot of time to fantasize about what we'd like to do with each other the next time we got together. We'd share those thoughts on the phone for a week or two and sometimes longer before we'd get a chance to act them out. Talk about anticipation! It was a two-hour drive from my school to hers and I'd jack off twice on the way just so I wouldn't cum all over the place the minute she got her hands on my dick. Sometimes twice wasn't enough. I've often thought that if we'd both been at the same school and hadn't had those long periods of separation to build up our sexual expectation, we might have never tried all the things we did.
Anyway, during one of our intimate phone calls, I was trying to let her know how much I loved the taste of her pussy. I told her something like, "I'd gladly drink a quart of your piss just to be able to kiss the hole it came from." At the time, I'd never tasted anyone's piss, not even my own. It was just one of those crazy things I'd come up with from time to time without giving it much thought. In this case, it started a whole chain of events.
You see, while Sharon calls me her 'little piss freak', what I didn't know was that she had been experimenting with piss play since back when she'd gone to Girl Scout Camp. And while, like I said, neither of us was very experienced sexually, half of Sharon's limited experience was with other girls.
Now don't get the idea that I'm trying to make you think I was some sort of straight arrow, goody two shoes. There'd been a couple of guys I'd jacked off with in my teens and I'd often thought about doing more than that. I think most guys at least wonder about what it would be like try sex with another guy. And I used to think the reason so many of us didn't try it was because we were afraid the word might get out. Now I believe that what we were really afraid of was trying it and finding out that we liked it.
So anyway, when I made my flippant remark about drinking a quart of Sharon's pee, I was sort of surprised when she picked up on it and would find some way to get it into almost every phone conversation after that. Still, I didn't think she was serious. I mean, one time I'd said I was going to fuck her, 'til the cows come home,' and when we got together she told me to find us a room that was way away from any cows. She said she wanted to be sure they had a long trip. Teasing and exaggerating were a big part of those intimate phone calls.
When I picked her up after her last class that Friday afternoon, her first surprise was that we were going to her house for the weekend. Her folks were taking her little sister to an amusement park for the weekend for her birthday and Sharon had begged off, telling her folks she had an important paper to write that HAD to be done by Monday.
The second surprise, or at least the beginning of what would become the second surprise, happened right after she got in the car with me. I told her I needed to stop to pee before we got on the road for the hour-long drive to the town where she lived. She told me she did too, but that we should both hold it until we got to her house. Then, before I could form any sort of a protest, she started playing with my cock before we were even out of the dorm parking lot and was sucking it by the time we were off campus. I was so glad I'd accepted my mom's old car and hadn't gone in for something sportier with bucket seats.
Somehow we got to her house in one piece. If you've ever had to fight Friday rush hour traffic while getting your cock sucked you know what I mean. Then when I made a beeline for the bathroom, she stopped me and told me we should go together. I thought she meant to hold my prick while I peed. We'd done that before but she had something else in mind, telling me to get undressed. She was almost ripping her clothes off as she said it, so I never questioned her motives, just got mine off as fast as possible. I had to take a lot more caution since I hadn't brought a change of clothes with me.
I found out what she'd been planning when she pulled me into the tub with her. "You want to take a shower first?" I asked like a dumb ass.
"No, I want to give you your quart of pee," she told me, pushing me to my knees. "But my bladder only holds a pint. So I'll have to give you more later. Is that alright?"
It never crossed my mind to tell her I'd been joking. God had gifted her with the prettiest, tastiest pussy ever created, and I was inches away from it. I was looking up past her perfect tits at her smiling face and I doubt there's anything I wouldn't have agreed to at that moment. Besides, for the last two weeks she'd been constantly mentioning my remark. I'd begun to wonder what it would be like to drink her pee for real and to be honest, was almost as eager to try it as she was. Almost.
I was still looking up and hadn't yet answered when the first burst of hot pee splattered off my chin. Without a moment's hesitation, I opened my mouth as far as possible and began swallowing her amber fountain of warm, golden piss. Before she was through, I was glad her bladder only held a pint and I'd said a quart. That meant she had to do it again. Just that fast, I'd become addicted to her taste.
Maybe I should have been astonished when she finished and insisted we change places, with her kneeling, and me standing so that she could taste my pee. But I wasn't; not even when she took my cock and aimed my pee all over her body and then finished off with me peeing straight down her throat. That led to us fucking fast and furiously on the bathmat next to the tub.
She introduced several other variations to our pee play that weekend. The following afternoon, she sat on my lap on the patio and peed in her pants, soaking us both. Then she wanted me to pee in my pants. I reminded her that because I'd only brought the clothes on my back, I'd have to borrow a pair of her panties and shorts if I wet what I had on. She pointed out how wet I was already and that it wouldn't matter; she had plenty of panties in her dresser and half a dozen pair of cut-offs. I think, between the two of us, we went through most of them before the weekend was over.
We never had another weekend quite as 'wet & wild', although we did repeat parts of it on several occasions. She'd find some way, every now and then, to wet herself or me, or play with my cock while I peed. Then she would tease me and call me a 'piss freak'. It was useless to mention that she'd started it. And on our honeymoon in Cancun, she did drench me good while I was lying on the beach, nursing a hangover. There had to have been at least a dozen people close enough to see the pee coming from the crotch of her bikini and splattering off my chest and face, but they all smiled and no one said a word. Come to think about it, neither did I. I gave her the same treatment, but at least I waited until we were in our room and she was laying in the bathtub.
Then the kids moved in next-door and things rapidly went to a new and exciting level for both of us. Although, maybe I shouldn't call them kids. Chris and Charley and their college friends weren't all that much younger than we were.
After we got out of college, Sharon and I had been lucky to both find jobs we loved in the same town. We talked to so many other couples that had to make compromises to stay together. We were even luckier because we'd both gone to State schools, had partial scholarships and good families and hadn't had any tuition debts to pay off. As a result, when Sharon's company decided to sell a small townhouse they'd used to put up visitors, we were able to buy our first home.
It wasn't all that much, no where near a dream home for either of us, but it had a lot going for it as far as we were concerned. It was a townhouse in a good area, near the local University and we were sure it would appreciate in value. That meant we could build up equity instead of continuing to pay rent. The town homes were in sets of four to a building, three buildings per block, and ours was an end of a middle unit. That meant we had a slightly larger back yard and a small walkway down the side so that we could get from the front to the back without going through the house. There probably wasn't more than eight or ten feet between our building and the one next to it and that was cut in half by a fence, but it gave us space to store some firewood, the bar-b-cue pit, and the garden hose.
It had a six-foot privacy fence across the front, down the side between the buildings, and around the back to the carport, but it was almost a joke from a privacy standpoint, considering all the units were two stories. Just about all the units had two upstairs bedrooms with a small balcony that ran across the back of both bedrooms. Anyone standing on their balcony could see what was going on in their neighbor's yard. And that's what led to a lot of what this story is all about.
One night Sharon and I were watching a late movie on TV. It was one of those beautiful warm spring nights when you can leave the windows open until bedtime and we'd left the sliding door open onto the patio. We knew the guys next door in the adjacent building were having a party, as usual for them on a Friday night, and since they never got very loud, we didn't pay any attention. But I kept hearing an occasional, funny noise, like someone ripping heavy fabric.
During a commercial break, Sharon told me I should go find out what had been making that noise. I left the light off, considering how I was dressed, went out on the porch and then into the backyard, and didn't see or hear anything but the muffled sounds coming from the next building. So I moved around to the corner of the building and stood quietly in the darkness between the house and the fence and looked around. It was way too dark to see anything and I could barely make out the shape of the woodpile and our covered barbeque pit, as my eyes adjusted to the dark. The sound I'd heard was almost like a ripping sound, like a sheet being torn and the only thing in the entire backyard that was made of a rippable, fabric material was the cover on the portable pit. I couldn't really see it clearly, but began to feel it to see if maybe some animal had been pulling on it. A few times I'd seen a possum in our yard.
Just as I discovered the cover was wet and wondered how that might have happened, I heard the neighbor's sliding door open on the bedroom upstairs and just across the fence. I could barely make out the images of two boys standing together on the short side of their balcony, facing in my direction. The moon was just high enough and bright enough that when it broke out from behind a cloud, I could see them clearly. I was deep in shadow and was sure they weren't aware I was there.
I'd spoken to Chris and his friends a few times and might have said something had I not been startled to realize that both boys were nude and had their arms around each other and if I listened diligently, I could overhear their conversation.
I heard Chris ask his friend, "Are you going to be okay?" and wondered if maybe one of the boys was sick. But as I continued to listen, I discovered that what Chris was concerned about was that the two had just had sex, that it was the other boy's first time to have sex with another boy, and Chris was concerned that his new bed buddy was having feelings of guilt. As many girls as we'd seen going in and out of Chris's place, neither Sharon or I had ever thought about Chris having an interest in the same sex as well. I wanted to run in and share this new bit of information, but instead, stood and listened to what Chris was saying about most guys being bi if they let themselves. He was making a very convincing argument that most guys at least wonder what it's like to suck cock and it was only the smartest and bravest that had the guts to try it. I don't know if his new buddy was buying it, but he sure had me convinced. I admit I was staring at the two cocks poking through the railing above me and wishing I could see them better.
Then it felt like it was beginning to rain. My first reaction was to run inside, but I was afraid the movement would make me visible to the boys. Then a break in the clouds revealed that it wasn't rain. Chris's friend was pissing off their balcony and the natural arch of the piss stream made it shot over the fence into my side yard. The sound I'd been wondering about had to have been the boys pissing off their balcony and splattering on the cover of my bar-b-cue pit. Only now, because I was standing in front of the pit, it was splattering on me. I guess Chris's short lecture on the joys of sucking cock had gotten to me and made me more excited than I'd realized, because instead of running for cover or at least stepping out of the way, I closed my eyes, opened my mouth, and raised my face to enjoy my golden shower.
At the time, Sharon and I still indulged in piss play occasionally and by that I mean we might do it once a week for a month or so and then not do it again for two to six months. I would have liked to do it more, but I let Sharon decide which of our little perversions we should try and how often. I guess if I'd given it any thought, or hadn't been so afraid to show enthusiasm for those things, she would have let me know she wanted to do all those things a lot more often too.
Anyway, as I stood there, my face, and long t-shirt getting soaked with the boy's piss, I started getting a hard on and wondered if I could get Sharon to continue what the boy had started. She had us both wearing panties and that was usually a good sign she had thoughts like that in mind. Then, as the boy's stream tapered off, I heard Chris say something about wondering what the guy next door would do if he knew they came out on the balcony every night about that time and pissed. Just as those thoughts were buzzing through my brain, Chris cut loose with a bladder full of piss and my shower continued for another minute or two.
When the boys finally went inside, I did too and Sharon knew immediately that I was wet and aroused. She could see I was soaked and the tent in my panties and t-shirt made my excited condition obvious.
"Mmm, look at you," she teased. "Did you pee all over yourself and get horny doing it?" From the husky tone of her voice, she was obviously getting aroused too.
I shook my head. "No," I told her. "I had help." Then I related everything that had happened, explaining why I had piss dripping off me from the hair on my head to the tips of my toes.
"And it never occurred to you to move out of the way?" she continued to tease as she closed the distance between us. It was sort of a stupid question since I'd just admitted that the only movement on my part had been to make sure the person peeing didn't miss. I'd almost leaned across the fence to catch the last droplets of pee from both boys. It was embarrassing to admit how much I'd enjoyed being peed on by the two young men, but once I'd started, I confessed everything.
All she had on was a matching outfit of one of my old t-shirts and a pair of panties, so when she began hugging me, it didn't take long for her to get wet too. And I suppose I wasn't at all surprised when she began licking the remaining droplets of piss from around my cheeks and neck. She might tease me about being a 'little piss freak' but we both knew she loved it as much or more than I did. What did surprise me was her reaction to Chris being bi.
"So old Chris swings both ways - interesting," she said with a look of speculation. "Tell me again exactly what the two boys said."
As I went over again, word for word, as best I could remember, what the two boys had talked about, Sharon slid my panties down and began to give me head. The movie that she'd been watching was completely forgotten. A few minutes later, we were both completely naked and I was chasing her up the stairs to our bedroom. Not surprisingly, we made a little detour through the bathroom.
After what had to be the wettest and wildest sex of our relationship, we laid in bed until the wee hours of the morning having one of the most intimate conversations of our relationship. Several times over the years, Sharon had mentioned bisexuality, but it wasn't until then, as we lay there in the dark, that I discovered that Sharon had been trying to feel me out about it. When I admitted that I'd gotten turned on listening to Chris and his friend talk about sucking each other's cocks, I was certain she'd ask if I wanted to try it. The answer was yes, but I still wasn't ready to admit that and wondered what I'd do if she asked.
But Sharon didn't try to corner me. Instead, she first asked if the idea of her and another woman having sex would turn me on. I told her I thought that would be absolutely awesome and she told me she'd be willing to do that for me, and maybe let me join them, and then added that I might have to do some things for her first. Of course I wanted to know what I'd have to do and she just shrugged. "Maybe I could dress you more like a woman and see if I still like the idea," she suggested. Then almost offhandedly, she mentioned that she'd get very turned on if she saw me suck another man's cock.
Wisely, she didn't ask if I wanted to or would do it for her. I think she knew I was willing, but would say no if pinned down. Instead, knowing in advance how her narration would affect me, she began to tell me about her teenage experiences with a couple of other girls, beginning with a camp counselor that had shown her how to eat pussy and drink pee. By the end of the two weeks of camp, Sharon had become very good at it. The two were in a storage shed, having a great little piss fest and pussy feast on the last night of summer camp, when one of the other girls from Sharon's troop caught them. Instead of telling on Sharon and the older girl, Jena had made Sharon show her everything the counselor had done and the two had then become lovers all through the rest of junior high school. She'd had another lady lover in high school, and a couple of years later, had often shared her roommate's bed in college.
By the time she got to talking about Peggy, her college roomie, I was hard as a rock and ready for more sex, but Sharon was yawning between every sentence. The last thing she said was, "Peggy and I always talked about how hot it would be if we could watch our boyfriends sucking and fucking each other." Then she dozed off, leaving me to fall asleep with my cock in my hand, thinking about what she'd said. I was one of the boyfriends they'd been talking about.
The following morning Sharon was up first and then woke me and almost immediately began talking about the weekend at her parent's house when she'd dressed me in her panties and shorts and we'd peed on each other all weekend. Those memories got me excited again in a hurry and she knew it. "Let's do it again!" she suggested. Usually one night of pee play was it for a weekend. I loved the idea that Sharon wanted to continue.
We dressed again in matching outfits of panties and t-shirts, sat in each other's laps on the toilet to take our morning pee, and then wore the wet panties and t-shirts while we ate breakfast. Our fifth wedding anniversary was coming up soon and we'd already decided on a second honeymoon to Cancun. We began discussing it again over our omelets.
"This time you can pee on me on the beach," she said as we cleaned up the dishes. When I nodded and smiled and continued to put things in the dishwasher, she added, "We can practice right now in the backyard."
It was after ten in the morning and fully daylight, but I wasn't too concerned about it. I'd been hard since Sharon had put her panties on me and a hard-on always clouds my judgment.
Our patio, for the first few feet out the door, was sort of like an alcove, partly sheltered by a closet on each end and the balcony above, then at least six foot of concrete extended out into the small backyard. If we were on the patio in that area, we'd be visible to anyone on either side of us. And if we stepped off into the grassy area, as Sharon was suggesting, any neighbor for several doors in either direction, if they happened to walk out on their balcony at the time, would be able to see what we were doing. I knew it and I didn't care if Sharon didn't.
I assumed Chris and Charley to our left, and whomever they might have for company, would be sleeping late. The neighbors to our right, the Arnolds, were retired and gone somewhere in their motorhome again and while the other neighbors might see us, they would have to get out their binoculars in order to see exactly what we were doing. Besides, I'd never said no to any of Sharon's suggestions and wasn't about to start now.
While the daytime temperatures were getting into the high 70's, the nights were still cool enough that the grass was covered with dew. The back of my t-shirt and panties got wet as soon as I laid in the grass. The front got even wetter as soon as Sharon stepped into position, standing over me. By the time she'd finished, my t-shirt was transparent and you could almost see the lace on the pretty pink panties I was wearing, and the head of my cock, sticking up proudly above the waistband of the panties, was clearly outlined by the wet material.
It must have been visible to Sharon, because she abruptly pulled me to my feet, squeezed my cock through the piss soaked t-shirt, and suggested we go back to bed. With suggestions like that, I'm sure you can understand why I never said no to her.
One of the biggest reasons that Sharon and I were so sexually compatible was that neither of us thought of oral sex as foreplay. As far as we were concerned, fucking was more like an afterthought that we got around to if we had anything left. We could easily spend an entire evening watching TV and taking turns giving head. I'd lick and nibble on her pussy while one program was on and she'd suck and play with my cock through the next. The only time Sharon wore panties in the evenings or on weekends was when she was on her period or intended to wet them for our mutual enjoyment. And as often as not, which was pretty often lately, if she had that in mind, she'd put a pair of her panties on me too. For us, pee flavored prick and pussy was like apple pie with a scoop of ice cream added.
So I figured our trip back to bed would include the usual detour through the bathroom. It was still a mess from the previous evening and a little more wouldn't hurt. Sharon had emptied her bladder, as evidenced by my soaked condition, but I still needed to pee again. I should have remembered that she loved her little surprises.
"We can do it in bed," she told me, dragging me past the bathroom door and straight to our queen size bed.
"What about the sheets?"
She smiled that sexy smile and told me, "I need to do laundry today anyway."
"But what about the mattress? I've got half a pot of coffee in me and really need to go."
"Weren't you paying attention when I showed you that mattress pad? It's got a plastic back on it. It's waterproof."
"I wondered about that," I lied. I'd been with her when she'd bought it, but my mind had been elsewhere. We'd had a few heated discussions about my not paying attention when she rambled on about things like mattress covers or the cost of her nail appointments or the color of the table placemats or any of those sorts of things that women can talk about for hours. We both acknowledged that I was more open about my feminine side than most men, but that didn't extend to what I considered pointless conversation.
"Why didn't we use it last night?" I wondered aloud, remembering we'd used the bathroom to wet each other.
"Playing in wet sheets is fun," she told me. "But I'm not sure I'm ready to sleep in them all night."
I couldn't help but think that she'd made it sound like she'd played in wet sheets more recently than what she'd mentioned the previous evening, but I let it go, probably because I had something else that needed to be let go. "Well get ready," I told her. "I'm fixin' to give your fancy pad one helluva test."
I think she figured I was going straddle her and pee in my panties like we'd done so often, in one way or another, in the past. Instead, as she laid back in the middle of the bed, I flipped up the hem of the wet t-shirt, pushed down the waist of the panties, and began to pee, letting the golden stream arch up and out from where I was standing at the foot of the bed, and letting it fall in a shower all over Sharon and the bed sheets. When I began to pee forcefully on the crotch of her panties, Sharon let out a groan, a sure sign I was right on target, so to speak.
When my bladder was drained, I moved onto the bed and buried my face in the sopping wet crotch of her panties, enjoying the flavor of our mingled pee as I lapped at her through the wet nylon. As I licked away, I became aware of how wet the sheets had gotten and found it especially exciting for some reason. Sharon must have too, because she made an unusual demand that I fuck her and now!
Fortunately for us both, the wetness had excited me to the point where my cock had re-hardened and all it took for me to enter her was getting her panties and mine out of the way. I wasn't the only one excited by the wet sheets. Sharon had the first of two orgasms almost as soon as I was able to thrust deeply inside her. I'm not sure how I was able to hold off long enough for her to have a second. Luckily, it came quickly, because so did I.
Fucking almost always led to us cuddling together afterward. Not this time. This time it was like we were doing everything backwards. We rested together for a moment and then when I slipped out of her cream filled hole, she spun up, around, and over me and began to lick the frothy mix of my cum and hers off my cock. I didn't hesitate to do the same for her. It was something we'd done a few times and both seemed to enjoy.
But this time, when we'd finished, and there was no more cum for either of us to lick up, Sharon spun around and laid on top of me again and began to lick my face instead, occasionally sticking her tongue in my mouth. Then she said, "You really like the taste of cum, don't you."
I'd never really thought about eating her pussy after fucking as being the taste of my cum or her cum or anything but another flavor of sex we could enjoy. But she was right as usual. I do like the taste of my cum and had since my early teens. I had often tasted my cum after jacking off and a few times, when jacking off with a friend back then, had a chance to taste his without him knowing.
So sheepishly, I admitted, "Yeah, I think we both do."
"Have you ever wondered what someone else's cum would taste like?"
My first thought was sucking a load out of a guy, having his full emission shot straight from his cock and into my mouth, and as usual, that thought caused a shiver of excitement. It had been a recurring thought for years and had been on my mind almost continuously since overhearing Chris's conversation the night before. But I didn't think it likely that's what she was talking about. I'd never admitted to any of my cock sucking fantasies. The only cum she knew for sure that I'd tasted was mine when I licked it out of her or when I shot in her mouth and she fed part of it back to me when we kissed. So I had to assume she meant second hand cum and almost hopefully asked, "You mean licking another guys cum out of you?"
"Mmm, now THAT is a sexy idea!" she said, like she'd have never thought of it on her own. "No, what I meant was, what we were talking about last night. I'll bet you know someone that would let you try sucking their cock. I almost orgasm when you shoot in my mouth and I just know you'd like it too."
I suppose I should have been overjoyed that she was all but giving me Carte Blanc approval to fulfill my most secret fantasy. Yet the stigma of becoming a confirmed 'cocksucker' kept me from showing the enthusiasm I felt. "Maybe," I admitted, trying not to grin to broadly, "But I really don't know anyone."
"Maybe you should be more friendly with the boys next door?" she suggested.
"Maybe," I said again and hoped I wasn't blushing too brightly. I'm sure I'd already made up my mind to find a way to get to know Chris and Charley and the other guys that visited them. It had been what I'd been thinking about after she'd dozed off the night before.
Then to change the subject to something less embarrassing, I remarked about how wet the sheets were and she seemed to take notice of it for the first time. I thought that was funny since her back was still wet from when she'd been laying in them.
"You're right," she told me. "You really soaked the bed good. If you're gonna become a bedwetter, I think I'll have to put you back in diapers."
I had been certain that there was no way she could have known I'd been a bedwetter and had been diapered at night until I was nearly ten. But the way she was staring into my eyes, watching my reaction, wiped out that certainty. My first guess was that Sharon and my mother must have had a conversation I hadn't been aware of, and that later proved to be correct. My mom had ratted on me. But as she continued to stare into my eyes, it was like she was seeing or reading the thoughts in my mind about things that I was sure my mother didn't know about, and that I'd never mentioned to anyone. I began to blush brightly as I thought about the times in my teens when I'd made improvised diapers to wet and then jacked off.
"I've been thinking about getting you your own sexy lingerie for us to play in and maybe some skirts and blouses to wear around here," she continued as those dark brown eyes bore into me. "But maybe you'd like it more if we made you into a little girl instead? We could get you some diapers and ruffled plastic panties and short dresses and you could wet all you want. Which would you like?"
Although I was excited by all her suggestions, I wanted to protest both ideas. There was some semblance of a macho male in me that wanted to object and tell her neither idea sounded all that exciting, when in fact they did. I was trying to speak but no words would form. I got out a very weak, "But . . ." Sharon thought I said 'both' instead of 'but' and rambled on about lingerie for when I was a big girl, and diapers for when I was a little girl, and the styles and colors that would be most appropriate for each, and how she would call me 'Brenda' when I was dressed sexy and 'BB', which she explained would be short for Baby Brenda, when I was in diapers, and how the extra bedroom, that had become a work area for Sharon and a junk room of sorts, as a bedroom for Brenda and BB to share and keep their things and that's about when I lost her.
Usually, as I've admitted, I tuned out as soon as Sharon began to ramble, but this time I'd tried to stay with her since it was plans she was making that involved me. I was hanging on her every word until I started having images of me dressed up like a two-year-old girl in thick diapers, standing in this giant playpen, with a pacifier in my mouth. Only instead of a regular pacifier, the one in my vision was Sharon's big pink dildo. And while a part of me still wanted to protest that the idea didn't excite me, the hard cock in Sharon's hand would have proven me a liar.
It was sort of like those cartoons where a guy has an angel sitting on one shoulder and a little devil sitting on the other shoulder and they're both whispering in the guys ears, trying to make him go one way or the other on some temptation he is facing. In my case, I had what was left of my masculine 'Bruce' image tugging me in one direction and Brenda, BB, and Sharon pulling me in the other. Poor old Bruce, fighting three to one odds, never stood a chance and I could see him slowly fading into history, to be resurrected for a few hours on workdays, for paycheck purposes only.
As Sharon babbled on at length about what great fun we'd have as two girls, I continuously warmed to her ideas. Actually, as evidenced by my drooling dick, I was getting damn hot. The 'Brenda' she envisioned was beginning to sound like a very sexy chick, and little BB, wearing thick wet diapers and getting them changed by her big sister Sharon, sounded like a helluva lot of fun too.
"Let's see how much help Brenda can be for the rest of the weekend," Sharon eventually concluded, tugging me along to the bathroom.
What I was sure she was tacitly telling me was that I was to be tested. She knew she had me hooked on her ideas and if I wanted her to follow through, I was to become 'Brenda' for the remainder of the weekend, helping her in whatever manner she instructed. Nothing new there. She'd always been the one to make the decisions in our relationship and we both liked it that way.
Note from Sharon:
Dear Readers,
As you might expect, at my request, my sissy husband, 'Miss Brenda', is writing this story and naturally I have final editorial approval. While she has been very accurate and honest about her latent sissiness so far, I feel the readers should know that I neither 'ramble' nor 'babble' as she has implied. The truth is, she has an attention span that isn't any longer than her six inch 'clitty', a common problem with those born into the male gender, as I'm sure you female readers are well aware. In Brenda's defense, her mother has confided in me, and it would appear that her dad had the same affliction.
Since I mentioned Brenda's mother, a fine and decent woman I assure you, I think I should let you know that well before our marriage, she told me all about how her son had been a bedwetter and how she'd found evidence of him secretly peeing in his pants and wetting his bed in his teens. She was too embarrassed to confront him about it, nor did she question him about her suspicions that he was wearing her clothes. She admitted that had she known she'd only have one child, that she wished Bruce had been a girl and that she might be responsible for Bruce's actions as she'd often treated him like a little girl and had defended his bedwetting, almost encouraging it. She felt I should know the truth about Bruce so that I could judge for myself if he was worth my effort.
I decided immediately that he was, and told her that maybe when the time was right, I'd see about transforming Bruce into Brenda. It became our secret agenda, with no specific date in mind. At our wedding, she pulled me aside and told me it was a shame I hadn't made Bruce wear the wedding dress. I assured her that some day, in a year or ten, when I was sure Bruce would truly love being Brenda at times, she'd have both a son and daughter. We'd been married nearly five years when this story occurred.
Sharon began with a bubble bath for two and that was different. We'd shared a shower hundreds of times, but never a bath. My first chore as 'Brenda' was to help her shave her legs. That was something else I'd done before, but never as Sharon's handmaiden, with her leg over my shoulder in the bathtub. Then it was my turn. I've never been hairy, but Sharon insisted that the little bit I had was way too much. She wanted every hair below my eyebrows to be taken off - and kept off, if I wished to continue. I'd be required to shave daily or weekly, depending on the area and how fast the stubble returned.
That gave me pause to wonder just how far I wanted to go - or for how long? Shaving my body would certainly be considered a commitment. Just letting Sharon use a pair of her scissors to get most of the hair in my armpits and around my prick was a helluva commitment. And I'm sure I was sweating a little when she finished off with soap and one of her razors. Thank God for Mr. Gillette and his safety razor! Only a person that shaves their genitals can appreciate that fine invention.
At the same time, Sharon had said, "If I wished to continue." So she was letting me know that it was up to me to determine how long I wanted to play at being her girlfriend - or her baby? Even as I looked at my baby smooth, hairless body in the bathroom mirror, I was thinking that she must have been teasing me about putting me in diapers. I wasn't an expert on the baby world, but I knew enough to know that 'Pampers' didn't come in a size to fit a full grown, 155 pound male. What I should have known was to never underestimate Sharon.
And again, when she was picking out some things for me to wear, she let me know that it would be up to me to determine how far we'd go with my being a girl. She told me, "I'm just going to dress you up this weekend - maybe put some lipstick on you. But I'm not going to fool with makeup or restyling your hair. If you decide you like it and want to do it more, we'll see about getting you your own wardrobe you can keep in the other room and I'll teach you how to tweeze your brows and put on makeup. We don't want to get too carried away and get you getting teased at work."
In addition to the padded bra and panties that Sharon gave me to wear, she picked out two more pair of panties and another bra and told me to keep them in my drawer with my other underwear and to feel free to wear them as often as I liked. She was giving me free rein to experiment on my own and I looked on it as a wonderful opportunity. Had I been a little less excited by that opportunity, I might have thought it through a little better and realized I was painting myself into a corner. Or maybe I did realize it and just couldn't admit to myself that I wanted it to happen. There were numerous clues that all this wasn't some spur of the moment idea that had suddenly popped into Sharon's head that morning and I was looking right past all of them.
We'd always enjoyed renting movies on weekends. Sharon picked up one or two on Saturday mornings when she did our grocery shopping. Was it just a coincidence that for the last month or so we'd watched a lot of movies like "Tootsie", "The Bird Cage", and the classic, "Some Like it Hot"? Those were just some of the movies with a cross dressing theme that Sharon seemed to particularly enjoy and that we watched together, sometimes twice. And it was always the same weekends when she put me in panties prior to some great wet sex.
There were several other things, but the big clue should have been the bras she gave me. Sharon is a 36C (a GORGEOUS 36C I might add!) and the two bras she handed me that morning were both 38B. I'm an engineer by trade and while there's a world of difference between civil engineering and women's lingerie, I still should have known that you don't automatically drop a cup size if you go up in chest size. The numbers don't add up that way. But that's exactly what I tried to tell myself. Who was fooling whom? They were padded to boot! Sharon needs a padded bra about like a dog needs fleas. So how did she 'just happen' to have two padded bras in her lingerie drawer that fit me perfectly?
I spent the rest of the day as Brenda and have to admit, I had a ball! I'd always helped with the household chores, but doing it as Brenda seemed to make a game of it all. And Sharon was with me all the way, coaching me and giving me tips that my mother probably tried to teach me and that I'd ignored. Of course I was expecting some sort of big, sexual finale for my day in drag, and the anticipation of that helped a lot too, but all in all, it was a really great day.
So I was very surprised when about eight that evening, Sharon told me she wanted to go upstairs and read for a while and that I should watch TV until after the news before coming to bed. Sharon had always been a more avid reader than me and loved to read in bed. But considering everything else that had happened that day, I'm sure the look of shock and disappointment showed on my face.
Grinning at my reaction, she told me, "Don't pout baby. It's a Saturday night and we can sleep late in the morning. There's lots of hours left in the weekend. How about I get us both a nightie to wear?"
That changed my attitude in a hurry. I hadn't worn a nightgown since I was a teen and used to sneak one of my mom's out of the dirty clothes hamper to wear while I masturbated. She had me keep the bra and panties on under the nightie and I was happy as a lark when I noticed she kept her panties on too. That was almost a sure indication we'd be indulging in some sort of wet sex later in the evening.
Almost as proof that we were both thinking along the same lines, the last thing she told me before sending me back down stairs was, "Try not to get pissed on before you come to bed."
For the next hour I sat in front of the TV and never knew what was happening or even what show I was watching. I just know it was on. My mind was on the events of the last 24 hours, all that had happened since my curiosity had gotten me pissed on by the boys next door, and how so much of it tied into events in my past, sometimes going back as far as my childhood. Then almost like an alarm clock going off, I realized it was exactly 24 hours and recalled what Chris had said to his buddy about pissing off his balcony and into our yard every night at the same time.
The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. It hadn't been meant to be one boy bragging to another. It was more like a statement of fact and speculation on Chris's part as to what I might do about it if I knew. I think I probably intended to return to that spot at that time from the moment I heard him say it. But I surprised myself with my eagerness to do it so quickly.
The gown Sharon had given me to wear was black with elbow length sleeves. I would have preferred something a little longer than mid-thigh for what I had in mind, but after killing the kitchen lights and determining we had an overcast sky, I was sure I'd be virtually invisible.
With great stealth, I moved slowly from our sliding patio door, to the edge of the patio, across the back of the house, and around the corner to stand in the shadows across from the balcony next door. I'm sure it would have been an enormously comical sight had anyone seen me dressed like a sissy in a woman's nightie and acting like some special ops commando.
After what seemed like an hour, and probably wasn't longer than a couple of minutes, I began to wonder if I was wasting my time. There looked to be a car in the carport at Chris's house but there wasn't any indication that anyone was home. Thinking that after the long night they'd had the previous evening they might have gone to bed already, I wondered if Chris had already taken his piss off the balcony and I'd missed it. A quick check revealed the pit cover was dry, so I assumed he must have gone out for the evening or was watching TV.
I'd already made up my mind that when I reported to Sharon upstairs, that I'd be wet with pee. I'd concluded that I wouldn't have Chris's help and was considering peeing on myself instead, when I noticed the curtains in Chris's room part slightly, thanks to a lamp somewhere behind them, and heard the sliding glass door on Chris's balcony slowly open. There was just enough light from a neighbor's porch light and reflected from the street lamp in front of our house, that I could make out a male image, but not enough that I could be sure it was Chris if I hadn't known. I was surprised at my disappointment that I couldn't make out his cock this time. I'm sure I just didn't want to admit to myself how many times I'd envisioned the two boy's cocks.
Chris stepped to the same spot where he and his friend had peed the previous evening and I moved slightly to my left so that I was directly below and in front of him. He appeared to have on a short bathrobe and bulky underwear and I watched eagerly, as best I could in the darkness, as he reached under his robe to push his underwear down and take cock in hand and let fly.
The night before, there'd been enough light that I could see the stream of pee arch out over the fence. But this time, because of the cloud cover, it was dark enough that I felt it hit me square in the face before I knew it was coming. I was congratulating myself for having picked the perfect spot to stand, as I hadn't had to move a muscle to correct for the boy's aim. Then Sharon turned on the floodlight.
Some previous owner of our townhouse had added a small floodlight on the corner of the eave of the house and on the same circuit as the light on our balcony. We never used it except at Christmas, when I put an adaptor in the socket and plugged in some Christmas lights that I ran around to the front of the house. When the lights came down, the flood lamp was screwed back in and I suppose it had been added for security. A time or two I had flipped it on at night when I wanted to investigate a noise in the back yard, without having to go downstairs.
The light wasn't aimed in my direction, but provided more than enough light for Chris to see me, and for me to see Chris. And what I saw was more startling than the light had been. It was Chris for sure, and he wasn't wearing a robe. He had on a short nightie very similar to the one I was wearing. And if that wasn't stunning enough, Sharon's words surely were.
"Are you two sissies having fun?" she asked, from a spot directly above my head.
"It looks like Brenda is," came Chris's reply and I could see him grin at me.
Those five short words from Chris spoke volumes. Exactly why or when the two had begun making plans, I didn't know. But I was sure Sharon had cued Chris the minute I'd stepped into the backyard. And I had a strong suspicion that my discovery of the two boys peeing off the balcony the previous evening had been choreographed as well. And if I accepted that, and Chris's mentioning the time of night he peed over the fence as being more than coincidence, then I had to wonder if the conversation I'd overheard was equally as planned. That conversation had evoked images in my mind of me sucking cock and I'd had those images recur every ten to fifteen minutes of every waking hour since then. I was sure that was part of the plan, and if I had any doubt as to who the planner was, Sharon's next proclamation confirmed it.
In a tone that left no room for error as to whether it was a suggestion or command, she told us, "I want to see both of you sissies downstairs in the living room immediately."
I think I was too far past nervous to be scared. I was sure Sharon had a plan and that I'd hear the details at a time and place of her choosing. That time and place was now in our living room. I wondered if she really expected Chris to be there too, since he obviously wasn't dressed to go visiting neighbors. But I had noticed that when she told us to both report to our living room, that he'd never said a word of protest. Just as Sharon had killed the light, I saw that he had turned on his heals to go inside like a soldier following orders.
Since all I had to do was retrace my steps, no stealth required, I was the first to reach the assigned spot and waited near the front door, just in case Chris showed up and didn't want to be seen waiting on our porch, dressed in a nightie. To my further surprise, Chris got there before Sharon and instead of coming to the front door as I'd expected, he came in from the back like I had done.
At the very back of each or our backyards was a small gate that was used by the meter readers for the different utility companies. I'd never seen any of the neighbors use those gates to visit with each other, but then again, I'd never seen any of our neighbors dress up like Chris and I were dressed.
Chris didn't seem at all surprised to see me in lingerie, and without a word being spoken, took a seat in the middle of the couch, swinging his legs to one side and pulling the hem of his nightie down in much the same manner as you'd expect from a little girl. Before I could question Chris about his involvement in the events of the last two evenings, Sharon came down the stairs and we both stared in silence.
Where and when she'd acquired her outfit, I didn't know. She was wearing a bustier that held her breasts out like they were being offered on a tray. There were garter straps hanging from the bottom, holding up fish net stockings, and the tiny panties she had on were almost a waste of time. They were so sheer you could count her pubic hairs through them. The fact that she didn't seem at all embarrassed to be seen like that by our neighbor, and the fact that he'd found his way to our house in the dark without any problem, assured me that it wasn't the first time that they'd met like this.
Just as a bit of jealousy was about to flare up in me, Sharon told us, "It's about time I got you both together like this. We've lived next door to each other for months and should have been doing this all along."
I was wondering how many of those months she and Chris had been meeting and just how well they'd gotten to know each other. Sharon knew me well enough to know exactly what my concerns were and began to explain. I won't repeat that conversation verbatim as it would take way too long. The three of us talked and answered questions of each other for more than an hour. The gist of that conversation was this:
A couple of months back, Sharon had accidentally run into Chris and Charley and the boy from the previous evening, shopping together at a women's resale shop on the other side of town. Sharon had discreetly watched them enjoying themselves long enough before confronting them that she was certain that Chris and Melvin, the other boy, were the ones trying on the feminine clothing with Charley's full approval. While they'd been scared at being discovered, Sharon had quickly put their fears to rest and assured the three that their secret was safe with her and that if they wanted to visit her while she was working at home or I was out for my Thursday night poker party or any weekend I was playing golf, she would be happy to help them learn about makeup and the fine points of being a girl.
Right from the beginning, Sharon had planned to get me involved in some way and that's when Sharon began bringing home movies with a cross dressing theme. Then, as they'd become closer and she'd learned more about the boys, she discovered they enjoyed sex with each other on a regular basis and that some of the girls we'd seen visiting weren't really girls at all. She also discovered that Melanie (nee, Melvin) was another little piss freak like me and that Chris loved to be diapered and ran around in wet diapers a good deal of the time. His interest in being diapered had made Chris the most responsive to Sharon and Chris had been visiting with Sharon at every opportunity.
Sharon further assured me that while they'd not had sex, they did get sexually aroused and that Chris had been required to masturbate whenever his arousal became a hindrance to Sharon's tutelage. The thought of the young man sitting next to me, getting dressed as a girl by my wife, and then my wife watching as he jacked off, was getting me excited as well.
Then Sharon told me all about the conversations she'd had with my mother, going back to when we'd first begun dating, and how my mother had been aware of my pants pissing and bedwetting for fun and that she knew that I sometimes wore her lingerie but had been too embarrassed to confront me about it. Sharon had decided not to push me into those things if I had truly outgrown them and lost interest. But at the same time, she'd been watching for any sign that I might be harboring a secret desire to be sissified and if so, she wanted it out in the open so we both could enjoy it.
I hadn't put up any resistance when she suggested I wear her panties and after a couple of weeks, I began wearing them on my own on weekends without her suggestion. That had been the sort of clue she'd been looking for and without me realizing it, she had relegated me to more and more of a submissive role. Then running into Chris, Charley and Melanie at the resale shop had put everything in motion.
Next Sharon had me tell her and Chris the whole truth about my teen years, wearing my mom's lingerie, pissing in my pants, and about the makeshift diapers I'd tried to make out of bath towels.
When she paused to ask if I had any questions, she knew I was hooked on the whole idea when all I wanted to know was where Chris got diapers big enough to fit him. I'd meant for it to sound like I was curious, as I had never seen or heard of adult size diapers. But it came out sounding like I wanted to know where I could get some too - and maybe that was what I really meant.
Chris explained all about adult diapers, both cloth and disposable, how he had plenty of each, and wore them as often as possible - including wearing them under his regular clothes to classes. He told us that most adult diapers are meant to be used by someone that wets accidentally, with the assumption they'll be changed as soon as they're wet. But then he explained that there were ways to make disposables hold more and that a few companies made cloth diapers that were super thick so that the wearer could enjoy spending hours in their wet diaper. Then he told me that what I'd thought was bulky underwear was really a thick cloth diaper, plastic pants, and bloomer panties over that. Sharon insisted he show me, and I admit I was disappointed that he didn't unpin his diaper as part of the demonstration.
But that made me think about the balcony conversation he'd had with Melvin and I asked if that had really been true or was an act for my sake. They both laughed and admitted that the whole thing had been scripted by Sharon and that it had been Sharon's phone call to the boys next door that had tipped them as to what time the show was supposed to go on. Then Chris told me that while I was difficult to see in the shadows when Melvin had begun pissing, when I closed my eyes and chased after the piss stream, I'd stepped up to the fence in the full light of the moon and had been almost as visible as if it had been daylight. He'd had no problem aiming his piss at my open mouth.
Then Sharon told me that as soon as she'd seen how wet and happy that I was, she was sure I'd go back out there again the next night and had picked the black nightie on purpose, so that the white of my skin would provide greater contrast and give Chris something to aim for.
Then we got to the serious stuff. She had me tell Chris how much I'd enjoyed drinking his pee and admit that I'd like to do it more often and not from such a great distance. Chris told me that while he loved his wet diapers, his friend 'Melanie' was by far the bigger piss freak and that Mel loved to drink piss as well as pee on people and be peed on. But since Mel only visited and he lived right next door, he assured me that any time I wanted to drink some of his piss, he'd be glad to let me have some, and from as close as I wanted to get.
I wasn't at all surprised when Sharon told me that Charley and Mel had gone to a party and that Chris had stayed home to help Sharon with her plan to bring out Brenda, and then suggested we ask Chris to spend the night. I readily agreed.
So that's how we started. Before the weekend was over, I had several new nicknames and 'cocksucker' was at the top of the list. On Sunday, Chris loaned us a set of diapers, pins, and plastic pants for me to try, and wearing a wet diaper was everything he'd promised. I loved it and so did Sharon. Some time during the following week, Sharon went shopping with Chris and by the next weekend, 'Brenda' had a wardrobe of her own and little 'BB' had a layette. When diapered, Chris got into the whole adult baby thing, and loved to walk around with a big baby bottle in his hand that would be filled with the pee from Charley, Mel, or one of their other friends. Sharon and I contributed to Chris's bottle too. I liked drinking pee, but liked it a lot better straight from the source and didn't enjoy being a baby near as much as Chris.
The weekend before we left on our second honeymoon, the guys next door threw us a going away party. By then, I'd sucked off all of them at one time or another and all three of the regulars had been to bed with Sharon. But for the going away party, Sharon had all of us at the same time. She was fucked continuously in at least one hole, sometimes two or three, for most of four hours. She swore it would take the whole honeymoon for her to rest up after all that fucking. She lied. We were at it hot and heavy the first night we got to Cancun.
We even found a club there, where the local 'girls' immediately accepted 'Brenda'. When we got back and told the guys about it, they told us about a club right here in town that catered to the she-male crowd and that Mel was a regular performer there on contest nights. And that's the real reason for this long story.
If this story meets Mistress Sharon's approval, Brenda is going out tonight to see Melanie perform. And if there are as many guys that show up looking to get blown as Chris had told us, I expect Miss Brenda will be performing too! At least I hope so . . . .
Note from Sharon:
I think my little sissy slut has done an excellent job. He loves being Brenda and as he surmised, Bruce puts in his time at work and then rushes home to get into his diapers or panties. It was Melanie's idea to refer to me as "Mistress Sharon" the day I had to give her a spanking for spilling nail polish on my skirt and all of my little girly boys have picked up on it.
Chris considers me his mother and loves for me to treat him like a baby girl. I'm more like a big sister to Brenda and Melanie, and Charley - well Charley considers me, in his words, "A damn good piece of ass." I still believe Charley is holding back a desire to be sissified too. Chris told me Charley has been sleeping in nighties a lot lately and has gotten as interested in giving head as he always was at giving the others his cock to suck. Brenda thinks the change in Charley is because Charley has a crush on me and he knows how much I prefer sissy boys.
Imagine that!