Julie Stories by Rikkibare Julie 4 Clubbing

[Rikki Bare 120]

Contains a couple deliberately pissing their clothes in a nightclub 

Julie 4: Clubbing.

This story is written a bit differently from the first two in that it is told from Julie’s viewpoint. When I first invented Julie I, naturally, did so from my point of view; now she has achieved a life of her own and it’s time that her voice was heard. She views things rather differently from me as you might expect.

Rikkie Bare

Julie's story told by herself:

"

In some ways my early history is similar to Dickie’s; as he told in 'The Beginning'. I have spent years as a private clothes wetter, often outdoors whilst walking. In my case though I am more aware of ambiguous feelings and motives. The sense of stress relief I feel is enormous as I flood my panties and I find this is almost as great when it doesn’t show as when it does; for this reason I usually wear short skirts and no tights. Often I will wear a pvc skirt; which means I can have wet knickers, nice thick cotton ones, without risking anything showing or leaving damp patches on seats.

"As a small girl I felt very repressed and powerless; and resented my situation deeply. Mother was always stressing that we should do things properly, and I never could, at least not enough to satisfy her. At the same time she was always busy and tended to ignore me. When I got really worried that I couldn’t please her and she never paid me any attention I used to piss in my pants. This was most effective in getting her attention. More in sadness than anger she would clean me up and tick me off; but at least she noticed me for quite a long time.

"Slowly my mother and I began to get on better and I got the attention I needed without wetting my knickers. For some years I pissed exclusively in the toilet, or outdoors on the ground behind a bush; I was never inhibited about this. Stress in school caused a new wave of wet knickers and when I was twelve I used “my weak bladder” to bait several teachers I hated and to develop a reputation amongst my peers as a ‘hard nut’. At that time I was a ‘punk rocker’ complete with spiky hair died the most outrageous colour I could get away with, safety pin jewellery and outrageous make up. My clothes were old, black, jeans and reconstructed jumble sale outfits. At school I was forced to wear the uniform but punked it up as much as I could get away with and was continually having battles with the authorities.

"I had been using the weak bladder trick to get out of classes for some time and my horrible math’s teacher Mrs Prendicott had gotten wise to my ruse when she had a colleague follow me; an usual I went straight outside for a fag and didn’t go anywhere near the bog. After catching me she began to refuse me leave to go to the loo and I vowed on revenge. I drank four cans of Coke straight off before going to one of her classes and started asking to go to the loo about twenty minutes into the lesson; a request which was not believed and thus refused. I pestered again and again, looking as devious and guilty as I knew how, and still was refused. I then made a great show of not being able to hold it, a deliberately ‘phoney’ show, and then let go my flood. I was sitting in the front row, where ‘Piggie Prendie’ could keep an eye on me. So she and just about everybody else heard the hiss and saw the result as the puddle flowed across the floor all the way to the teacher’s desk. It was summer and the uniform was a green and white striped cotton dress, ugh, it was even more obvious what I had done when I stood up still pissing, revealing my total saturation as the piss poured down my legs. The front of my dress was soaked where I had pressed it into my crotch and my piss flooded down the back as well. I yelled my defiance at what SHE had made me do.

I got into big trouble with the authorities and was suspended for a week because somebody snitched about all those cans of coke. I was also ostracised by four fifths of the class, and made a hero by the gang. There were five of us punks, three guys and another girl in the class. I also got a big buzz out of it, such a feeling of power that I almost came on the spot. I showed off wetting myself a few times for my mates in heavy drinking sessions and a couple of the others tried it but they soon got bored with it and we stopped. My reputation however was made; I was the unchallenged toughest punk in the school and didn’t have to prove it for the rest of my school career even when I suddenly discovered that learning and being smart was another road to power over my life, and was great fun as well.

I decided at age fifteen to become an intellectual and started to study hard. Privately I continued to wet myself for the defiant buzz, feeling of release and perverse sense of control it gave me; as I struggled through my teens balancing rock music, dope, sex, rebellion and inspired study; in a bizarre mixture of conflicting motives and feelings.

I succeeded academically and got three ‘A’ s at A’ level and a place at a good university to read psychology. Here I learned a lot of theories about people and life and developed lots about myself. The theories all conflicted with each other and I understood myself less at the end than I did at the beginning but at the same time I learned to bullshit about people and convinced myself that I knew what made them tick.

As a student I moved on from being an out and out punk to being a Goth, heavily into black gear and pop witchcraft. I only pissed myself occasionally, and then privately; except that is for my relationship with Penny.

I had experimented with gay sex as a teenage punk, we all did in my mob, but didn’t find a woman that was so fantastic that I began to call myself ‘gay’; the men were not all that great either so I avoided all labels especially the unforgivable one of being ‘conventional.’

Penny and I lived together, for convenience and conviviality, in a shared house with four other students during our final year. We got on like a house on fire and started to hang around together almost at once. We were both interested in the same things, had a very similar sense of humour and shared a course in philosophy which stretched us both and lead to many deep discussions. Also we both liked to party and go clubbing, the louder and rougher the better. She was very heavily into the rugged style of feminism, pretty butch even, with short cropped blond hair and little or no make up. She always wore black jeans and layers of T-shirts. I favoured long black skirts and outrageous tops. I wore lots of heavy Goth face paint and chunky jewellery.

Shortly after we moved in together, we went out clubbing one Friday night. I was attired in my usual extreme fashion and had persuaded Penny to spiv herself up with one of my tops, tight black shiny jeans, vampish white foundation and scarlet lipstick. She looked pretty deadly; and dead attractive.

The band was heavy metal and we bounced around in an insane fashion and downed the Special Brew like there was no tomorrow. We became wilder and wilder in our drinking and dancing and the pressure in my bladder grew greater and greater; Penny just carried on and I wasn’t going to visit the ‘ladies’ before she did despite becoming really desperate.

Crashing around she cannoned right into me. We grasped each other to avoid falling. I felt her hot breath against my cheek and her soft breasts under the satin top as they pressed into mine. She was hot and vibrating with energy as our mouths found each other. I pulled her to me, my hand on her ass and felt another heat.

My god she was pissing her jeans!

Not to risk losing the moment I let go too; pulling her hand into my crotch as I did so.

She held me hard as we kissed but said nothing. The music threw us apart again and we moved again independently until the number ended. Several times we narrowly avoided slipping over in the puddle we had created. We staggered to the shelf where we had left our drinks.

“You did that deliberately.”

“So did you,” Penny replied, there was no doubt between us what we were referring to.

“WOW” we both said together and gripped each other in a tight embrace. We had discovered our shared secret and our passion for each other at the same time. Both of us had been concealing our feelings, as well as our fetish, through fear of rejection.

Now all was revealed we hurried home and spent the night in her bed, which was ‘protected’, and shared our wetting experiences between love making sessions for the rest of the night. (She had had many adventures which I may write up sometime.)

We were wet lovers for the rest of the year and lived together for several months after graduating. Then I was offered this great job in London and she achieved a graduate studentship at an American university. We parted with many tears and lies about our careers mattering above all else but both of us were pretty cut up underneath. It took me a long time to get over the sense of loss at her departure.

The job in London was followed by another, better, one on the south coast and through this job Dickie came into my life. I design and test surveys for a market research company and he was a freelance systems analyst who visited to sort out a problem with the software which makes our surveys work technically.

There were fireworks about three seconds after we set eyes on each other. We went for a drink at the end of the day, which extended to a meal, and we were fucking each other’s brains out before midnight. A month later the same thing happened again; and again. Animal lust consumed us whenever we met but it was several more months before we really became an ‘item.’ we were both rather intimidated from further commitment by our age difference, he is eleven years older than me, and by bad experiences he had had in the past.

Then, as Dickie has already described, we discovered our mutual fetish and things went from strength to strength. He loved me and yet was not at all possessive, and was totally cool about my showing lustful interest in both wet willowy maidens and well hung studs. He too has swung both ways and enjoys the body beautiful; male and female.

Dickie is irredeemably randy, and is totally unable to resist the temptation of sex when it is offered. He admitted this shortly after we started going together and, half expected me to tell him to get lost there and then. I had already worked it out for myself and it came as a great relief to me. I am totally unable to keep my legs together; when the opportunity comes along my hormones take over and the next thing I know I am having sex. The knowledge that this was cool with Dickie removed a great deal of stress from my existence. I feel that, for the first time in my life, I can be my imperfect self without any fear of rejection by the man I love.

Despite being this stud Dickie tended to be very private and timid about coming ‘out’ about watersports. The idea of being publicly ‘humiliated’ really turned him on and he took risks when out in the countryside. He just didn’t have the ‘bottle’ to piss himself where he was sure to be seen; even by strangers. I am naturally much more bold than him, provided I am not known, after all I’ve been pissing for effect since I was twelve.

Thus I was very surprised by the events of one Saturday night which took be right back to my days with Penny.

We got dressed up and went out clubbing. I wore a long black dress, with a slit up the side, very Goth like, with black stockings, black lace knickers and a black fishnet shawl. Dickie had on tight shiny black jeans, a bottle green T-shirt, a black leather vest, studded leather arm bands and a wide belt with 3 rows of studs. As usual with tight jeans he went without underpants and the shape of his prick was clearly visible down his left thigh. We both wore our black DM boots.

We visited a few pubs and got fairly full of beer, I refrained from using the loo and noticed that he didn't go either.

The club we ended up in was a crummy, dirty, basement joint with heavy jazz-funk, blues and soul music, presented by the wild DJ; Mungo Zoothorn. There was a small very dark dance floor surrounded with battered tables and threadbare velvet padded seating . Before the crowds arrive it looks incredibly seedy but later it gets so packed nobody notices.

As usual we drank beers and still didn’t to the loo; being too busy dancing. Besides the loos, which we passed on the way in, are totally disgusting leaking all over the place so that the water even floods out into the passage.

It got to about one A.M. and the place was packed solid. with hardly room to move on the floor. I had reached near bursting sometime ago and something would have to happen soon. We got up to dance, one of the slow numbers Mungo works in every now and then to give people the chance to touch each other up and even enjoy a bit of a snog, and worked around the floor until we were right in the middle of the throng; being pressed on all sides by the slowly gyrating dancers.

Dickie pulled me into a close embrace holding my bum with one hand and pressing the other against my shoulder blades. I could feel his prick pressing against my naval through our clothes. Thus clamped together I felt a sudden hot wetness as the dirty bugger pissed all over my diamante naval stud. It ran down into my pants and warmed my clit and labia. He then stopped before he had done enough to drip off the bottom of my long skirt or out of his jeans. I was astounded; I never though he would dare, I had been wondering whether I dared soak him in there or would feel compelled to wait until we got outside, and here he was taking the initiative! As I moved I could feel the wet patch extending to below my right knee. My dress hung heavier and moved differently; very erotic.

A flood of emotion engulfed me as I was taken right back to my first time with Penny; it was her piss I was thinking of. I held onto Dickie tighter and tighter, tears welling in my eyes as the memory of her filled my mind. I kissed him hard and dragged myself back to the present. Sort of in control again I stroked his wet erection and guided his hand into my groin where I anointed it with a little squirt of my own piss.

We worked our way off the floor as the number ended and faking a degree of coolness sat down to finish our drinks.

“You OK?” he asked; his little finger wiping away a tear that had escaped my effort at control. “Have I gone too far and offended you?”

I sobbed, suddenly feeling very shaky; “Hold me Dickie; hold me tight.” I said sitting on his lap and burying my face in his chest. I could feel the moisture in his jeans through the back of my dress and I cried some more.

He enveloped me in his arms and gave me the hug I needed. After a few minutes I felt better.

“I’m OK now Dickie. When you pissed on me then it raised a ghost; a powerful memory of a woman I once loved very much. Sorry to be such a kid.”

“You’ve got me now; I love you and I’ll never leave you.” He kissed away my tears.

“I was very surprised by what you did then and it stirred up the memory of Penny who did just the same thing to me four years ago. You are getting to be bolder than me, and I love you for it; you could never offend me with your beautiful piss my darling.” I returned Dickie’s kiss hard and hot; and he relaxed. I felt his penis stiffening under me and released quite a large spurt of piss to anoint it. We kissed again thankful for the darkness of the club.

Eventually we surfaced, drained our beers and danced another couple of numbers.

Dickie whispered into my ear that he was still bursting for a proper piss and suggested we leave. I was also really desperate and felt I was about to dump my whole bladder full whether we went outside or stayed. Deciding on a hasty retreat, we got up and he lead me outside. Besides the embarrassment, which neither of us was really prepared to cope with, we wanted to be able to come there again. It was a grotty club but the music was good and you could get away with virtually anything short of murder. We probably looked rather damp as we passed out through the brighter lobby, and I got one or two odd looks, but we made it without anybody actually saying anything.

Once out in the small basement area where the entrance door was, I jumped into his arms sending him staggering back against the wall. I wrapped my legs around him and he supported me by clasping his hands under my bum which pulled me hard against his crotch. In this position I released a flood of piss which not only soaked him but poured out through my skirt all over his hands and arms. His own piss soon joined the flood and we were quickly totally saturated from the waist down. We stayed embraced for a short while our hearts pounding with fear as we heard somebody start to come down the steps.

A young woman in a white satin mini dress, which revealed acres of skin top and bottom, and an attractive muscular guy in a shiny black sleeveless T shirt and blue jeans slowly descended and had to pass us very close in the narrow area. The guy ogled my ass and, sort of accidentally, brushed his hand against it. I saw his prick stiffen rapidly as he realised what he was feeling, the brushing became a grope and he pressed quite hard; hard enough to make some piss ooze through the fabric. I didn’t try to pull away and let him have a good old feel; then I started to lean back against him; which would have left a wet stain on his pale jeans if his companion hadn’t dragged him off.

“Stop it now Frank you pervert; if you want piss come to me;” she said giving me a wink and examining my wet dress, and Dickie’s crotch, carefully with her piercing blue eyes. She seemed to indicate that I, and probably Dickie too, would be welcome to some if we ever got together; but meantime she wasn’t going to let her man anywhere near me.

“Feels good does it” I said to him and grabbed his hand; pressing it against my wet thigh.

He stammered something incoherent and looked embarrassed as his woman dragged him towards the door of the club.

Dickie was shaking with fear despite being really turned on by being discovered. Oh yes he wanted to be an exhibitionist all right and really wet himself in public; but in reality had only once dared to let anybody except me see him wet close up. This was an altogether different situation from our hold it competition in town. The idea of soaking the young woman’s pretty white dress greatly appealed to me and, judging by his erection, Dickie too; but he was obviously terrified.

“Lets go before I have a heart attack,” he mumbled as the couple disappeared into the club.

We squelched up the stairs into the street before anybody else could come down and catch us. The street was quite brightly lit with tall sodium lights and I could easily see the darkened lower areas on my dress and his jeans, but then I knew what to look for and I don’t think other passers bye noticed.

“Your face when that kid clocked you,” I laughed; hugging him.

“You looked pretty scared too at first.”

“Yes but I soon realised he appreciated the show”, I replied.

“I saw the way you encouraged him.”

“Well he had a great shape and those jeans would have stained up a treat.”

There was no arguing with that. He nodded his agreement and hugged me tighter and lifted me up. As he pushed his prick between my thighs I warmed it up with a fresh squirt of piss. We headed for home.

As always after a wet session our love making was good and Dickie was as attentive as ever. I was, however, slightly distracted; thoughts of Penny kept coming into my mind as he massaged my clitoris with his marvellously sensitive tongue and, despite every effort to lose myself in the sensations, they just wouldn’t go away.

The next week I received an E-mail from our associate company in the States; they were sending one of their special team over to work on some problems we had been having with a joint project. My heart missed a beat; her name was Penny Weatherton.

I replied in a fit of excitement and received an enthusiastic response; what that response was I will keep for another story.

Julie

Edited March 21, 2023 by Rikki Bare