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Subject: BILLY’S TIGHTIE WHITIES 5 The stories in this series are fictional, though they are based on real-life incidents. They involve an adult and minors in sexual situations. Please do not read if you are under 18 or if the content is illegal in your jurisdiction. Email me if you liked the story or want to comment ast. Thanks, Jon. Nifty needs your donations to provide this valuable fty/donate.html BILLY’S TIGHTIE WHITIES 5 It had been a fun evening. As I sat on the couch, staying naked until I heard the car pull into the driveway a few hours later, I replayed it all in my head. And daydreamed about what else I could do with my two special friends. CHAPTER 5 Billy’s Mom and Matthew’s Aunt came in (I was fully dressed, of course), and thanked me for watching the boys. I assured them that they had been well-behaved, that we had fun, and that I would be glad to babysit either or both of them anytime as I needed the money. They paid me and offered to drive me home. But I declined, saying that I didn’t live very far and enjoyed the walk. The truth is, I had some thinking to do, and I liked walking while I thought things out. And I had some “activities” planned during my walk. Billy’s penchant for going around in his tightie whities, and his enjoyment of pee play, had awakened feelings and brought back memories of things I hadn’t done or thought about in a long time. I took a roundabout path to get home; it took longer, but went through woods that I knew were very private (I had rarely ever seen anyone else in them). Once I got far enough off of the road into the woods, I sat down on a tree stump and opened up my backpack. I had a full spare set of clothes in there, including an old pair of tennies. I stripped off and put on these extra clothes, put the other ones in my backpack, pulled out a water bottle and zipped the backpack up, and stood up. After the boys had gone to bed, I had drunk glass after glass of water. My bladder already had that getting-full ache when they arrived, and by the time I entered the woods I was starting to feel a real urgency. I started walking down the path towards my apartment, drinking more water as I went along, and brought to memory the times that Billy had wet his pants in front of me. I started replaying in my mind some of my own adventures with wetting when I was around Billy’s age. When in public with my family I would frequently wait until I was about to burst before telling them that I had to go to the bathroom, and then would inevitable lose control and wet my pants before we found a bathroom. My parents always scolded me, and my brothers would tease izmit escort me, but I didn’t care, I liked how it felt when my piss uncontrollably flowed out of me into my pants; the warm feeling of my underpants filling up with pee, and then it running down my legs and into my socks and shoes. But the best part to me was the thrill of it, of doing something that everyone else considered shameful. About ten minutes and two water bottles into my walk through the woods, the spasms started hitting me. I knew this was a sign that my bladder was about strained to its limit. But I pushed on. I pulled a third bottle out of my backpack and started guzzling it. My belly was beginning to ache; the muscles in my lower abdomen alternated between tight and loose; and I could feel piss going up the tube through my (erect) penis. But I pushed on. Wetting my pants was something that I started doing again when I was eight years old. That summer, my brothers were all going to various camps and I was the only child left at home when my parents worked. They hired a babysitter to stay with me during the day, a seventeen-year-old neighbor boy (Mike) who I had always looked up to anyway. So it was easy for him to get me to do “strange” things: go naked in the backyard, wrestle each other in our underwear (with lots of grabbing of each other’s privates), pulling our underpants down to show each other our boner, touching each other’s boner, etc. But the most thrilling activity for me was when he started getting me to play around with pee. One day while wrestling in the backyard (still fully clothed), Mike pinned me down and started tickling me mercilessly. It wasn’t long before I pissed my pants. Of course I was upset, and started crying. But he sat me up and talked to me calmly, assuring me that I was not in trouble. And he started talking about how good it felt. I had to admit, it HAD felt good! From then on, it was an almost daily thing where he would get me to wet my pants (both on purpose and true accidents). It started at home. But then Mike got me to do it away from home too. At first, in places where no one else could see (like the changing room at the Y or the public pool, or in the trees next to the park). He tried to get me to do it where other people could see, but I couldn’t do it. That would be WAY too embarrassing! One strong spasm hit me, and a jet of warm pee shot out into my underpants. I managed to clinch it off, and felt the front of my shorts. Still dry. But I could feel dampness in the front of my briefs. Third water bottle was done; I pulled out a fourth, and started yahya kaptan escort guzzling this one. Then Mike made me do it, one day at a park. I was hanging by my hands from a high chin-up bar, when he came up behind me. There were several other kids right around me playing. Mike used one hand to hold my hands on the bar, so I couldn’t let go, and started tickling me with his other hand. I shrieked and squealed (which got everyone else’s attention, of course) for him to let me go, and shook and twisted to try to get away, to no avail. Within a minute, my bladder let go, and I soaked my pants. Mike finally released his hold on my hands, and I dropped to the ground. The other kids all pointed and laughed, remarking that I had wet my pants. But it didn’t bother me! It was exciting, and made me feel giddy. The most exhilarating time, though, was when Mike took me to a movie and I did it there. He bought me an extra-large soda, and kept encouraging me to drink it. Halfway through the movie, I really had to go. Mike wouldn’t let me get up to go to the bathroom. And I knew what he wanted me to do. By the time I finished the soda, I had one hand firmly gripping my penis through my shorts. When I felt wetness as I started peeing, I let go. My shorts quickly filled up, I felt it soaking under me on the movie theater seat, and then I heard it dripping onto the floor. I looked over, and Mike was smiling at me. When the movie ended, I saw people looking at me and whispering. I ignored them, holding onto Mike’s hand and skipping along as we headed out of the theater. Once outside, I enjoyed the combination of the warm sunshine and the cool dampness in my underwear and down my legs. Even though it was cool by this time (after midnight), I was starting to sweat from the exertions of holding my bladder tight. The spasms were now constant, and I had to fight back the urge to grab my crotch. A second jet of pee flowed into my briefs, and lasted longer than the first before I managed to force my muscles down there to stop the flow. Now the outside of my shorts was damp. There was just enough moonlight filtering through the trees so that I could look at them, and there was a noticeable dark patch about silver dollar sized. A cold shiver surged through my body out of my groin, and I could practically feel my bladder muscles relaxing. I stopped walking, and stood in the middle of a patch of moonlight as the dam burst. Piss flowed uncontrollably out of my dick, spraying up out of my erection and soaking my briefs and shorts. I looked down and watched gebze escort the dark spot spread to encompass the entire front of my shorts, and then poured down my legs into my socks and shoes and onto the ground. It seemed like it would never end! But it did. Steam was visibly radiating from the lower half of my body and the ground right by my feet. Even though no more piss was escaping from me, it felt like my bladder wasn’t completely empty. I pulled another water bottle out (the fifth since I started out), and started drinking it as I resumed walking. Mike still babysat me once in a while after that summer ended, and he continued to come up with different ways for me to wet myself, but I was also beginning to do it more on my own. My parents tried everything to “help me with my problem,” but of course their efforts failed. Over the next four years or so, I even wet my pants once in a while at school. Those were the most electrifying and exciting incidences to me, even though they resulted in almost constant teasing from the other kids. Puberty hit me full force just as I started junior high. The first time I wet my pants at school there, the cruel teasing really bothered me. So I stopped my public wettings completely, and reduced it to times when I was alone. But even that was now inducing guilt in me, and within a few months I stopped altogether. Until now. It had been about nine years since the last time I wet my pants, but Billy had reawakened its thrill in me. The wetness in my underpants/shorts and shoes/socks was exhilarating. But I was not done. Halfway through my fifth water bottle the spasms started again, and quickly became almost unbearable. Less than five minutes after I lost control, piss started irresistibly pouring out of me again. By the time I reached the edge of the woods right across the alley from the back door to my apartment patio, I had drunk seven water bottles and wet my pants four times. Piss was constantly dripping out of my saturated shorts and underpants, and I squished with every step. The building trash dumpster was right at the edge of the woods, and I flipped the lid up. Removing all of my clothes, I threw everything except for my briefs into it and closed the lid. I walked across the alley to my door naked (another thrilling feeling) and went inside. Once in my bedroom I put my own wet briefs into the baggie that held Billy’s from earlier in the evening, and put it in the special box that held my stash of secret stuff that I kept hidden in the back corner of my closet. Chapter 6 will be coming soon. Jon is ready to fully join Billy in his pee adventures, and to encourage Matthew also. I love reading your emails with comments, and chatting about this topic, but remember to check your email settings to make sure I’m not blocked. I want to respond back to you! -Jon

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