Posted by Argyle on December 27, 1998 at 16:24
As the subject says, a rather lengthy story. (The most erotic parts are chapters six and seven, in case you aren't reading this story to sample my writing style.)
ANNA'S STORY
BY ARGYLE, DECEMBER 1998
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Dilectus meus misit manum suam per foramen et venter meus intremuit ad tactum eius.
Surrexi ut aperirem dilecto meo manus meae stillaverunt murra digiti mei pleni murra probatissima. Pessulum ostii aperui dilecto meo at ille declinaverat atque transierat anima mea liquefacta est ut locutus est quaesivi et non inveni illum vocavi et non respondit mihi.
--Song of Solomon V. 4-6
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I.
Anna entered the freshman locker room, and made quickly for the farthest corner. In front of a locker wedged against a wall and guarded adequately (she hoped) by shadow, she began to change. Her baggy blue jeans fell to the floor, revealing a pair of the plain, white cotton bikini panties a modest girl of fourteen should properly be wearing. These "good girl" panties were unremarkable, except that their front was marred by the faint brownish-yellow concentric circles of ancient urine which no number of patient bleachings could remove.
"Hey Annie," taunted one of the other girls, entering the room, "piss yourself today?"
Anna made no reply. Though today she could have responded in the negative, she preferred to pretend she was oblivious to such comments. In reality, however, they were understandably the cause of gallons of secret tears, and Anna could not prevent her face from falling at the remark.
Mandy Cohen, the nauseating leader of the most popular clique of freshman girls, was the next to arrive, attended as always by her equally nauseating entourage. Being several social castes above Anna, she did not herself stoop so low as to ridicule the girl, but suffered her minions to do so and laughed cruelly at their aspersions. Mandy then stepped out of her too-short miniskirt and pretended to search for something in her gym bag; this feigned quest merely gave her an excuse to model her new panties, black silk Victoria's Secret string bikinis. As she removed her midriff-bearing top, revealing the matching bra, her lackeys hushed with appropriate awe. As if Mandy's transcendent maturity needed further proof, she began to loudly instruct one of her giggling compatriots in proper techniques for oral sex.
"Do you have any advice?" the pupil inquired of Anna.
This comment was followed by resounding peals of laughter. The fact that Anna had never been kissed, or even hugged or called on the telephone, by a boy was as much a part of public knowledge as Mandy's sexual exploits with her boyfriend, a senior. Anna tacitly laced her sneakers and exited into the gym, followed by the other girls.
Twenty minutes later, the locker room door swung open violently. Waves of taunting laughter crashed in and broke on the threshold, washing before them a hysterically sobbing piece of flotsam named Anna, whose shoes squelched with still-hot urine.
II.
It was 3:17 AM, by Anna's clock, when she awoke to a familiar warmth spreading beneath her legs and buttocks.
Anna's father, to whom she was impossibly close, had died when she was ten. Though she had never been a bedwetter, the night of his death she unconsciously emptied herself into her Barbie pajamas, and she had done so every night since, without interruption. Daylight wettings began less than a year later; although far less frequent, these were far more devastating. Doctors had diagnosed her with urge incontinence, an affliction wherein the sufferer can properly produce and contain urine, but feels no urge to urinate until it is too late. This results in the sufferer holding his or her urine until the bladder is overfull, at which point the body forcibly excretes it. Thus, Anna's accidents were always impossibly large, since it was an overfull bladder she was relieving. Her only remedy was to force herself to urinate at regular intervals during the day, since diapers could not contain the sheer volume of urine Anna's accidents brought forth, and the medications her doctors prescribed were useless, her problem being wholly psychological.
The other students at her school understood the source of her problem. While children will always be cruel, one would have expected her fellow students to mature out of such puerile derisions in adolescence. They did not because of jealousy. Anna was by far the most attractive girl in school. She was a classically trained dancer, and her body reflected it: she stood a petite five-foot-four, but had long, muscular legs culminating in a tight dancer's ass. Her baggy sweatshirts could not conceal her perfectly proportioned breasts, though the fact that they did hide her impossibly flat belly and cute navel was nothing less than a crime against humanity. She additionally possessed the completely unblemished, flawless, milky skin of a Petrarchan sonnet's heroine. But by far her best asset was her hair. Naturally blond, it fell to her waist, and was so thick and luxuriant it made the other girls green with envy. She wore no makeup (never on Earth was a thing so unnecessary) and dancing was alone enough exercise to maintain her divine form.
Anna thought herself hideous. But boys avoided her because she was a social third rail, not because she was ugly, a fact she failed to understand. In reality, there was not a male student (or, for that matter, a male faculty member) in the school who had not made her the subject of several furtive ejaculations.
Anna's social problems were compounded by the fact that she was without doubt the most intelligent student in the school, a fact which, as usual, made all resentful of her ability. Doctors had made her take five different I.Q. tests; each time she had scored above 200. On her first day of high school, her honors geometry teacher gave her class the proof which would be their final exam that semester, telling them it was so difficult they would need to work on its many parts throughout the year as they learned the various theorems. After Anna had run from the puddle she had left under her desk, the sympathetic teacher went to bring the girl's books to her. Her notebook was open to the page on which she had absent-mindedly doodled (doodled!) the solution to the problem. It had taken her perhaps ten minutes.
All of which left Anna a social pariah in a soiled bed. She was long past being able to cry about her nocturnal incontinence, so she merely followed her nightly routine: she finished disgracing herself and curled up into a fetal position around the perimeter of the warm, wet stain she had made on her bedsheet. Her knee-length cotton nightie clung to her soaked thighs and ass, and she pressed her legs together in order to wring out her saturated "good girl" white cotton panties. The mattress was well protected, and Anna was long past caring about spending the rest of the night in a wet bed.
III.
The next day was a Saturday, so Anna did not have to face the horrors of school. Because the day was sunny and warm, she was able to sit on her lawn and read, her favorite activity. Today's selection was Camus' The Stranger. She identified with the excruciatingly cerebral Mersault (she thought the same way) but was saddened when he described swimming with Marie, how he had grasped her by the waist and swum with her as one, she pushing with her arms, he kicking his feet. That would never be her…
"Now, I enjoyed The Stranger myself, but Father Cluny almost shit when I told him I was reading it," said a voice presumably attached to the shadow marring Anna's page, "Catholics take a pretty dim view of existentialists to begin with, but Father Cluny was a classical scholar, and he didn’t appreciate Camus' treatment of Sisyphus one bit. I'm Troy," said the most incredibly attractive boy Anna had ever seen, extending his hand.
Anna was struck dumb. No boy had ever given her the time of day, much less tried to start a conversation with her. She did not respond, looking instead at the moving van which had apparently pulled into the driveway of the house across the street while she was reading.
"Okay, then," Troy said, and started awkwardly off on his way.
Anna called him back, and finally managed to blurt out her name, blushing furiously as she did so. He asked her permission to take a seat next to her on the lawn, and asked which translation of the book she was reading as a way of starting a conversation with the most incredibly attractive girl he had ever seen. It wasn't a translation, Anna replied after some time to an astonished Troy. He incredulously inquired if her French were fluent enough to read it in the original. She spoke fluent French, along with fluent Italian, Spanish, German, and Portugese, she answered, then regretted it. He would think her arrogant. He didn't.
They talked for hours without the slightest interruption. Or, rather, Troy talked. Anna was too stunned to do much more than listen and laugh in the appropriate places. Troy was a high school senior. He had just moved here. He attended a private Catholic school. The snippets of information bounced around in Anna's still unbelieving mind. Finally, she reached for the hairbrush lying next to her and began to brush out her magnificent mane, something she usually did when nervous.
"May I?" he asked.
He shifted until he sat behind her on the lawn. Taking the brush, he expertly combed out her locks. Through her thin T-shirt, Anna felt the warmth of his body, a sensation she had never before experienced. She was happy.
Troy stopped brushing and looked astonished. Anna looked down and discovered the crotch of her faded blue jeans darkening. She at first accounted this a shadow caused by the sun's passing behind a cloud; it was inconceivable that a fourteen year old girl (even she) could urinate on herself during the most important event of her young life. But as she felt the familiar heat about her sex and the familiar stench assailed her nostrils, she knew this was the case. She sat in stunned disbelief, peering into her crotch. She watched the hot stain devour her thighs, felt it spread underneath her and wet the seat of her jeans. Her pants, quickly unable to contain her forceful stream, gave birth to small golden fountains. Urine ran into the grass and down the slight incline toward the street. When she was at last empty, she was wet from just beneath her waist to the small of her back and down her pantlegs to her knees.
She sat as if paralyzed for a few seconds more, then apologized to Troy and ran inside her house. Anna's mother had taken on a weekend job to help support herself and her only child after her husband's death, and so Anna had the house to herself. She locked the door behind her, and sat in her wet pants in front of her bedroom window, out of which she could observe Troy. When Troy was sure she would not return, he went across the street to his new home. Anna took a shower. She did not cry. That night, she seriously contemplated suicide for the first time.
IV.
The following Tuesday, Anna was walking home from her bus stop when Troy pulled up in his car. Though she quickened her pace, he was persistent. They sat on her lawn, as before, and had another lengthy conversation.
When Troy asked her to see a movie with him, Anna cried and accepted.
Anna's mother was not enamored of the idea of her freshman daughter dating a senior. But she finally relented when she saw Anna was truly happy for the first time since her father's death, and even helped her pick out a skirt for the occasion. Troy arrived, was duly interrogated by Anna's mother, and found adequate. When Troy brought Anna home that night, he parked at his house and they took a short walk.
The had not gone a block when Anna received her first kiss, immediately after which she voided helplessly in abject terror. Anna's eyes watered as she watched twin streams run down her legs underneath her skirt, but Troy merely hugged her and walked her back to her house, where he waited patiently for her to shower and change. After her second, third, and fourth kisses of the evening, she remained dry.
V.
Anna entered the seniors' changing room to applause. Two of the girls had seen last night's performance of Swan Lake on television, in which Anna had danced the lead. She thanked them graciously, as she had the reviewers who had attended the performance last night and raved about her in this morning's newspapers. One reviewer pointed out that the fact that Anna was dancing the lead for a professional ballet company at seventeen was alone proof of her exceptional talent. The fact that she was a senior at seventeen, having skipped her junior year, was equally telling.
She found a locker and began to change. When her baggy blue jeans dropped to the floor, they revealed the same "good girl" white cotton panties she had been wearing all her life. But now Anna wore her uniform--baggy jeans, loose-fitting sweatshirt--out of a laudable (and rare in a girl her age) modesty, not shame. Her romance with Troy had taught her she was beautiful, had taught her to be proud of herself. More importantly, it had all but ended her daylight accidents. Anna was a hopeless bedwetter, and probably always would be, but she was even waking up dry about once a week.
"So will we be seeing Mr. Wonderful again tonight?" asked one of her friends.
Anna replied in the affirmative; Troy had finally convinced her to go to her senior prom. He was a college junior by now, of course, but he had listened to Anna's pleas and remained within an hour's driving time of her home. He visited her nearly as frequently as he had before leaving.
VI.
As Anna descended the staircase, Troy's jaw dropped. His stomach rolled with the pangs of young love, as did hers, but something south of Troy's stomach moved as well, a fact Anna gigglingly noticed.
She wore a floor length navy blue gown with a low-cut halter-style neck which (she felt) showed too much cleavage, a long slit which (she felt) showed too much of her muscular left calf, and (she felt) a back which pulled too tight around her magnificent ass. Her mother had finally been able to win over Anna's Puritanical sense of modesty, and convince her the dress was fine. More difficult was getting Anna to wear the very modest white silk Victoria' Secret bra and panty set her mother had picked out; Anna's mother had just pulled her aside and checked under her slip to make sure she had, in fact, put them on.
As the door swung closed behind them, Troy put his arm around Anna's slim waist, and could not resist then sliding it south to her firm, muscular buttocks. She shot him an "I know what you're doing" glance and clucked her tongue in feigned exasperation, but giggles shortly belied her supposed disapproval. He had taught her she was sexy, and she had used the knowledge against him. Anna was still a virgin, but she allowed Troy some liberty with her body (though it had taken him eighteen months of dating before he got to second base) and she had recently begun to give him clumsy oral sex. She had done this on three occasions now, and planned to reward Troy for his services this evening by making it four after the prom. Troy was not a virgin (far from it), and so Anna doubly appreciated his allowing her to mature sexually at her own pace. Though after three years of dating he had never seen her naked, or even seen her underwear beyond the occasional misbehaving bra strap sliding down her shoulder, Troy never pressured the girl to go farther. He loved her, and she loved him, and that was enough.
As they arrived at the school, Anna was in a dream. She nervously noted the awestruck gazes of the male students as they fell to her breasts, her legs, her ass; as well as the looks of contempt from those students' dates. "If you only knew what they were thinking," Troy teased as he planted a kiss on her soft left cheek. She could guess.
They danced for hours. Anna had never been so happy in her life. She was the object of Troy's affection. She was the object of the other boys' desire. She was the object of the other girls' envy. She was running from the room in hysterics.
Troy followed her, oblivious to the stares their unannounced departure had engendered. He caught her, finally, where she had stopped outside the school's front door. He took her gently by her beautiful shoulders. As he turned her around, he saw that her face wore the expression of horror unique to a seventeen year old girl urinating uncontrollably in her prom dress.
The irony was not lost on Troy: an adolescent girl on the verge of adulthood tries to show her maturity in dress and action, then disgraces herself; a young girl plays adult, then soils her dress-up clothes like an infant.
Neither he nor Anna spoke. They watched the dark stain spread across her midsection, where she had placed her hands in a futile attempt to hold her urine back; the stain steamed slightly in the unseasonably chilly night air as gravity forced it to stop its circular spread and cascade down the front of the dress, between her knees. Troy became engrossed in the journey of a golden rivulet down Anna's bare left calf, fascinated as it was married to the puddle forming at her feet.
At length, she was empty. Anna remained frozen in place: slightly stooped, hands thrust obscenely in her crotch to stanch the now gone flow of urine. As a result of this position, her dress front was injured with a circular stain extending from just below her navel to mid-thigh, at which point the stain sent a disgraceful branch down the rest of her dress front, between her legs, to the wet cement underneath her. The back of her dress fared better, but Anna still had an elliptical stain at the base of her buttocks which had given birth to small rivulets running down the backs of her thighs and leading to twin circular stains at the backs of her knees, where the golden torrent had briefly pooled, then continuing down her calves to add to the growing lake under her soggy high-heeled shoes. As a result of her desperate attempt to force her disgrace back inside her bladder with her hands, even the elbow gloves she had found so cute were soaked past her wrists.
Anna apologized through her tears to no one in particular, as Troy had gone to retrieve their coats. Upon his return, he embraced her warmly and drove her home as she requested. He did not mention the other students' comments. Anna already knew it would not take the other students long to figure out why she had left so suddenly.
Anna cried silently all the way to her home. She shunned Troy's embraces and refused to let him come inside when they arrived at her house, accepting only a quick peck on her tear-wet cheek. She went immediately upstairs, ignoring the sympathies of her concerned mother, and cast her dress and slip off onto her bedroom floor. While removing her bra, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her ever-so-adult white silk panties were of course destroyed. They were now transparent, giving a slightly yellowed window onto her matted pubic hair and sex in the front, and her muscular buttocks in back. There was not a dry inch of panty to be found. The sight so depressed the poor girl that she abandoned her plans to shower, merely throwing a long T-shirt over her ruined adult underwear and crying herself to sleep.
VII.
Troy always said how much he would love to watch her sleep. She never let him, for obvious reasons, but she had the nicest dream that he was sitting in her chair, next to her bed, doing just that. She dreamed she awoke to his soft touch pushing her beautiful hair from her eyes, and soothingly wishing her good morning.
She sat bolt upright when she realized she wasn't dreaming.
She screamed for him to leave, hurt and angry, laying back down and pulling the coverlet up to her chin. She prayed this was one of those rare occasions on which she had not wet her bed, but she knew it wasn't; she had been soiling herself when she awoke, and the wet patch on the bedclothes was still hot. The realization that she must have lost control *while he watched her sleep* at first fueled her anger, but then sobered her tremendously. He had known she was humiliating herself beneath her thick covers, and he had not been repulsed.
Troy now moved to the edge of her bed, sitting on Anna's coverlet. It was drenched on the inside; it had to be damp to the touch even from outside, yet Troy did not turn up his face in revulsion. Anna grinned broadly in spite of herself when he told her he loved her, and she timidly accepted a long, tender kiss (keeping the coverlet at the level of her chin, of course). Troy explained that he loved her, no matter what she did. And that he loved whatever came from her body as well. He reminded her of the article they had read together, which said a woman's urine was full of pheromones, and that a man would therefore find the scent very enticing. Troy assured her he did. He kissed her fingers, visible as they held the coverlet in place, and began to loosen them. Anna had never been so frightened of anything in her life. His words were well and good, but how would he react when he actually saw her lying in her filth? If he ran, she would be crushed. But if he didn't, he would surely take her virginity; though she would give it willingly, the prospect was a frightening one.
Troy pulled the coverlet down past Anna's breasts, kissing each gently through her T-shirt and noting their erect nipples. He kissed Anna deeply while fondling her breasts, leaving the coverlet just below her sternum and allowing the suspense to build further. Finally, he uncovered her completely.
Anna had been sleeping on her stomach when her bladder let go. As a result, she had wet the front of her white silk panties most heavily. She felt slightly self-conscious because her sex was clearly visible through them as she lay nervously on her back, on display before Troy. The front of her white T-shirt was similarly transparent from her waist to just below her chest, affording Troy a glimpse of the flat belly and navel he rarely saw. He started with that selfsame navel, kissing her belly through the wet T-shirt, tasting her bitter urine. He pushed the T-shirt aside and licked her belly directly, pausing to explore her navel with his tongue. He took her shirttail in his teeth, wringing it out between them, swallowing her wonderful juice. Anna was unaware she was moaning.
He slid his hands downward and found her virgin sex, which he teased through her soggy panties. Their lips met, and Troy pulled Anna to a sitting position. As he kissed, licked, and gently bit her neck, he tore her ruined T-shirt in half and threw it to the floor; she also removed the last of his clothing.
Troy had never seen Anna's breasts. His fantasies could not possibly have prepared him for the sight. He suckled her hungrily while pulling her to a kneeling position on the bed, simultaneously fondling her drenched ass with his right hand and sliding his left down the front of her panties. Anna had never masturbated, and she literally screamed when she felt the unprecedented pleasure Troy's index finger brought her. She began to reciprocate with her unsure and inexperienced brand of oral sex, but Troy stopped her. He laid her on her back. Kissing her thighs, he pushed her ankles skyward and raised her ass from the mattress, pulling off her panties in the same deft motion. He entered her as gently as he could, sliding through her tight hole. When Troy ejaculated deep within her, she could hold out no longer, and her body shuddered with the first orgasm of her young life.
They lay spent and panting in Anna's bed, in the now cold wet patch her incontinence had made in the sheets. "I love you," Anna said.
Troy nearly responded in kind, an automatic reaction. But instead he said the three words she had never heard in her life. "I accept you," he said.
Anna, as she so often did, wept. But this time they were tears of joy.