My employer invited us to a concert. On the designated evening many colleagues arrived at the main office building, where we were led to the biggest conference room, which had been transformed to a concert hall with a proper stage for the occasion.

Everyone looked at his or her best: the men in suits, the women wearing dresses or skirts, mostly short ones. Even the director's wife showed lots of leg and to be honest, had nothing to be ashamed about.

My wife whispered in my ear: "I hope I can still wear heels like hers when I'm over fifty." "Just keep practicing," I whispered back and looked down at her nylon-clad thighs, knees, calves, ankles and feet that were standing on stiletto-heeled pumps. She smiled and little did I know that she planned not to use the bathroom all evening so she could put on a realistic desperation show in the car of a kind that usually ended with great sex.

The schedule for the evening had to be changed. The musicians had trouble with their transportation and arrived late, so we had an extra hour for drinks. The concert was a long one and although I am not a particular fan of classical music, I did enjoy what they played and how they played it.

The break was cut short because of the earlier delay and my wife (as she told me later) was already feeling a very strong pressure on her bladder from the extra drinks and waiting time. She considered going to the bathroom but we were held up in conversation and before she knew it, the break was over. Still in doubt, she returned to her seat.

Soon, she realized that she had made the wrong decision as her bladder quickly filled up to the brim. Like most women, she doesn't like to make a show of herself in public, so she tried to sit still for as long as she could.

Then the leg crossing and uncrossing started and grew with increasing frequency. Gradually the crossing and uncrossing of the legs was more and more accompanied by little shifts in position: leaning back, then leaning forward, getting up two inches then sitting down again, shifting weight from one buttock to the other and back. Every now and then she sighed deeply. She was clearly not at ease.

"You okay?" I whispered in her ear. "I have to pee like a racehorse," she gasped back in my ear. My lower abdomen was at full alert immediately. All the movements she made got an extra erotic dimension from that moment on.

I almost went crazy when she uncrossed her legs, pressed her hand against her crotch, shivered and sucked in her breath through her teeth, making a soft hissing sound.

Within a couple of seconds she removed her hand and crossed her legs. I put my hand on her knee, out of sympathy and out of lust. She grabbed it immediately and frantically pressed it against her thigh.

My penis was rock-hard because of that wonderful feeling of hot, nylon-clad female thigh against my hand combined with her still subtle desperate movements. She must have noticed my excitement, because she started teasing me by whispering in my ear what she was going through: "Oh... I'm really bursting for a pee... I don't think I can hold it much longer... I'm sooo desperate!"

Every time she paused, she kept breathing heavily in my ear. You could hear the pain from her bladder in her shivering breath.

The danger of my coming in my pants grew bigger and bigger. Her hand slowly dragged my hand up her thigh. As our joined hands approached the hemline of her skirt, I noticed the increasing warmth coming from her leg.

Then she moaned in my ear: "God, help me hold it... I'll flood this place if you don't!"

With that, she uncrossed her legs and pushed my hand up her skirt against her crotch.

There I was: amidst a crowd of people who luckily still seemed to be concentrating on the music and the musicians, cupping my wife's cotton-and-nylon-clad pussy with my hand held by hers. Again she crossed her legs and my hand was squeezed tight between her thighs, hand and crotch. I was in heaven and afraid of flooding my own pants with sperm as her desperation made her thighs and hot, soft, bulging pussy-lips squirm subtly through the nylon against my hand.

In the meantime she kept making her equally exciting whispered comments about her ordeal in my ear. Suddenly, she froze and pushed my hand really hard into her crotch. I felt her pussy-lips part to give way to the cotton and nylon with my fingers in between. After about half a minute her grip relaxed a little. "Oooh, that was close! I'll pee my panties..." She gasped in my ear.

I couldn't help myself anymore and started moving my fingers around, massaging her pussy-lips. As I did this, shivers went up and down her spine. "What are you doing..? Ssssssss!" She hissed in my ear, "do you want to make me piss myself?" Frantically, she squirmed around in her seat, my hand still squeezed between her thighs and crotch. Then I suddenly felt a hot squirt against my hand. She panicked: "Oh god, we ...must go...now! I'm ...pisssssing!" Clearly, the dams were breaking. I had only seconds left to act.

I got up from my chair, pulling her up with me. Together, we dashed out of the room and into the hallway. For a few moments, I held still looking around. My wife doubled up beside me with both hands under her skirt between her thighs. I dragged her with me to a door which -thank god- happened to be unlocked. I pulled her into the room, locking the door behind us. "Where's the loo?" her panicked face seemed to ask me. In two seconds, I was out of my pants and in a chair, pulling her on my lap. I felt her warm, squirming thighs on my hard-on through her nylons. Then she crossed her legs, capturing my rock-hard dick between her thighs and her crotch, just like my hand before.

She started moaning and hissing things in my ear that I could no longer understand. Then our lips met and we started kissing violently. My hands were all over and between her legs so I could feel her more and more frantic squirming.

A shot of hot pee was launched against my dick. It was so hot and hard that it almost hurt. I felt the first spasms in my balls and knew that my orgasm was approaching. With one last movement, I tore her blouse open and buried my face between her big tits. She then lost it completely. Her hot pee streamed out of her pussy through her panties and nylons against my hard, throbbing, coming dick that she kept rubbing with her crotch.

Like this, we sat for minutes, catching our breath. We were both soaking wet and decided to go straight home.

Back at work, I got all kinds of macho compliments from my male colleagues and even some admiring looks from women for making out with my wife surrounded by strangers and then running off like that. I let them; they knew only half of the truth...

Martin  ( Email Welcome )

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