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I have enjoyed peeing in unusual places for years.

Some places I have lived I think it’s very possible that I peed just as many times in the tub or shower as I did in the toilet.

I also enjoy wetting my pants or panties, but that of course takes more time to clean up than just enjoying a quick bladder release into a bucket or sink.

But at least once a week I try to arrange an afternoon where I can return from work, line the bottom of the tub with towels for comfort, and lay back and enjoy the building pressure until I flood whatever I’ve been wearing that day. Clean up is always quick and easy, and just a matter of adding some wet clothes to the dirty laundry.

Years ago, I’d tried adult diapers, and while I loved the thrill of freely peeing myself no matter where I was I always feared leaks. I’ve always gotten the greatest thrill out of peeing with a very full bladder so I can enjoy the long slow buildup of pressure and have the maximum amount of hot fluid to savor as I lose control, and I’d never been able to fully relax in a diaper with the fear that I might be about to overflow urine onto any of my furniture.

However, after several hours of online chat with a friend who was really into wearing diapers, I decided to give it another try. I bought a package of extra absorbent diapers and set about making my endeavor worry proof. I bought a waterproof mattress cover, made sure to pile more towels than I could possibly need on the headboard shelf, and even double wrapped my favorite body pillow in two plastic trash bags before putting my softest pillowcase back on it.

And of course, I had been preparing myself all morning.

I’d gone for an early morning run, and then returned and had a bottle of juice and soaked in the bathtub with a good book.

By the time the sun was up I was drying off and pouring myself a cup of coffee. I carried my coffee into the bedroom and made up my bed for my adventure. Then I knotted my robe closed and carried my coffee out to the back deck, where I sat in the shade and enjoyed the view while sipping the hot liquid. When I was finished, I got a second cup and drank it while checking my phone and answering a few emails.

I put the cup in the dishwasher and got a bottle of water and carried it back into my bedroom. I opened the closet and began to select what I wanted to wear for my morning.

Picking out clothes is important to me. For all occasions. Even masturbation. Maybe even especially for masturbation.

I take masturbation very seriously and consider it as important a part of my sex life as everything else I’ve ever done in the quest to give and get orgasms. So I take every step I can to make sure that my masturbation time will provide me with the ultimate orgasmic thrill.

I turn off my phone. I lock doors. I block out time, so people do not expect to be able to interact with me. I make sure to have water, batteries, wipes, towels, and any toys I might want within reach. I close the blinds and pull the blackout curtains shut. I select music or white noise to suit my mood. And I even light candles.

So I stood at the closet and contemplated what to wear. I have several outfits that I use for roleplaying with my husband, or if I just want to dress sexy while I play online. I have dozens of pairs of sexy panties, along with skirts, shirts, bras, boots, nylons, and thigh high socks to create a superhero, sexy librarian, erotic nurse, skimpily dressed nymphomaniac or wide eyed woman-from-next-door escort bayan look. I also own several leather items that run the gamut from sexy to downright intimidating.

For this session though I wanted to keep it simple. I chose a simple red skirt and a yellow tube top. Before wriggling into the tube top, I gave a quick dab onto each nipple with some dark pink lipstick.

Once I had the tube top in place, I admired how my nipples were visible through it. No one was going to see them but me, and I wouldn’t be spending a lot of time looking at them of course. But I’d know they looked sexy underneath the bright yellow top, and that knowledge would help me feel wanton and sexual.

With the skirt and tube top in place I stepped into the diaper and secured it into place. Looking at myself in the mirror I confirmed that it wasn’t bulky enough to be visible, although if anyone did see me the short skirt would show it off if they even glanced in that direction.

Since no one was going to see me I rethought the skirt, unhooking and stepping out of it before returning it to the closet. I stood in front of the mirror and admitted my diaper and yellow tube top.

I went back to the kitchen and got some more water, and returned to the living room, where I settled into my favorite chair by the sunny window with my book.

I could feel a slight need to pee already. Not enough to make me uncomfortable but enough to make me aware that all my liquids were having the desired effect. I made myself comfortable and began to read, spending the next few hours sipping on water and getting lost in the story.

At the two hour mark I had to pee.

By hour three I was squirming and had to focus to make sense of the words in front of me.

Forty minutes later I could no longer read, so I sat back and stared out the window for a few minutes, before giving up. I got another bottle of water from the kitchen and headed back to my bedroom.

I climbed onto the bed and turned on the stereo in the headboard. I’d preselected my white noise, and the sounds of a thunderstorm roared out of the built-in speakers around the room.

I settled back against my pillows, and closed my eyes feeling like I was in a thunderstorm as the sounds of pounding rain and distant thunder enveloped me. Rain has always had an arousing effect on me. Many of my best orgasms have happened while hearing rain pound on the roof.

I put my hands at my sides and lay flat on my back, staying still and savoring the sounds around me and the pressure within me. I let it continue to build, knowing that I was already past the point of desperation, and approaching what would be an emergency under other circumstances.

All told it had been over six hours since I’d left for my morning run, and I hadn’t peed in all that time. The pressure in my bladder was becoming deliciously uncomfortable, although laying still on the bed had eased it quite a bit. Of course, it never really went away but I was as relaxed as I could be under the circumstances.

I concentrated on my breathing, timing it with the sounds of winds gusts on my stereo and forcing myself to stay still. For the better part of an hour I stayed in one spot, becoming aware at some point that I had balled my hands into fists and had been rhythmically squeezing and releasing the old comforter I was laying on.

When I was at the point where I knew my control was almost gone, I clenched my thighs together and pushed my body escort istanbul pillow under my hips. Now my bottom was elevated just an inch or so higher than my head. Instead of being uncomfortable the circumstances made it feel erotic.

My hope was that this angle would give me a few more moments of control and would allow gravity to keep my release from all pooling in the same spot so I could savor the warm spreading feeling as much as possible.

Plus, I had always gotten a visual thrill out of peeing straight up into the air like a fountain and feeling it splash back down on me whenever I’d peed in the bathtub. I liked the mental image I’d conjured up of my bladder filling with so much liquid that instead of peeing I’d just overflow.

I lay there in the dark, listening to the storm rage through the speakers with this intense need to relieve myself, and I suddenly realized that I was past the point of being able to maintain control. I knew that I no longer had the option of making it to the bathroom. I had to pee so badly that if tried to get up the movement would cause me to burst.

And that realization physically aroused me.

A lot.

My clit had been extremely sensitive for a while by this point, and I became aware that it felt like it was buzzing, and my pussy had lubricated itself inside my diaper as if I’d been engaging in foreplay. My nipples were rock hard, and in my mind’s eye I could picture them sticking out from my areola’s as dark pink beacons through the yellow tube top.

I was so physically invested in the pure pleasure of what I was experiencing that my body had performed its own foreplay on itself, without my fingers doing a thing. If someone had pinched a nipple or licked my inner thigh, I probably would have orgasmed right then from that alone.

My body felt electric with incredible pressure, and I knew it was only going to experience relief one way because that was the only way left to experience it.

I lay there staring at the ceiling. Refusing to give myself the push I needed for release but not clenching either. I just lay there, waiting for it to happen.

My heart was pounding, and my eyes were wide open. I kept staring at the ceiling with my arms by my sides, fistfuls of comforter balled up in my hands, and trying not to move, and forcing myself to experience the sensations of noise, pressure, tension, and helplessness.

Never had I felt such intense joy and arousal and fullness radiating from inside myself. I wondered if I could last another thirty seconds, so I quietly and slowly began to count in a soft whisper.

“One I-need-to-pee, two I-need-to-pee, three I-need-to-pee….”

I tried to quiet my trembling body and pounding heart. I knew I was going to lose this battle. And I knew it would be soon.

I reached the end of my count to thirty and started again, this time with my goal being to make it to ten.

“One I-need-to-pee, two I-need-to-pee, three I-need-to-pee….”

As I arrived at my self-imposed goal of ten, I wondered if it would be possible for me to orgasm just from holding my own pee.

And that was it. The thought of falling over the edge into an orgasm was more than my body, or my mind, or my bladder could take.

As soon as I thought of an orgasm a flood of warmth gushed into my diaper. I felt it all around my bottom and vagina and inner thighs, flowing hot and wet in a torrent that made me moan with pleasure and relief.

I wallowed bayan escort in the sensations of the leaking flow against my skin, trying to memorize the explosive rush of feeling my urine spill out of me with my hips elevated. It poured and poured out of me as I stared at the ceiling and panted as the relief brought me physical pleasure, and the physical pleasure brought relief.

I savored each and every moment and afterwards I could have slept, if I had allowed myself to drift away in the pure exhaustion caused by my desperation. I was covered in a fine sheen of sweat and felt like I’d just run a marathon.

However even more compelling than the exhaustion was the feeling of my sensitive clit pressed into the warm and wet diaper.

I cupped my pussy through the diaper with my hand and involuntarily moaned, and in a sudden hunger of need and want I pushed my fingers into the diaper and began to furiously glide them over my clitoris.

I’m honestly unsure of whether I had four great mind-bending orgasms, or one long and intense orgasm that rose, fell, throbbed and burst within me four amazing times. I couldn’t tell, and I didn’t care.

My fingers strummed my clit and my body rocked with pleasure that I cannot describe now and could hardly bear as it happened. There was no build up to this orgasm, no feeling of ascending a pleasure peak and cresting over the top, no realization that my arousal was reaching a breaking point, no split second where I was suspended between the start of the orgasm and the loss of control.

I just pushed my fingers against my clit, and it was suddenly there, big and powerful and consuming and immediate and delivering a white-hot pleasure that was almost painful in its focus.

I gasped in lungful after lungful of air. I shuddered. I bucked wildly on the bed as if I were possessed. I made noises that I had no control over. I screamed. I moaned. I sobbed. Tears ran down my cheeks. I saw spots dance before my eyes. I struggled to take in enough oxygen while choking back screeches of primal pleasure.

With no awareness of how it happened I transitioned from a tightly coiled ball of orgasmic energy to a physically and emotionally wrung out vessel who lay limply on the sweat soaked comforter and felt a wave of relaxation wash over my body from scalp to toes.

I relaxed totally, and my bladder spilled another hot flood into my sodden diaper, this time pulsing against my limp fingers. I closed my eyes as it slowed to a trickle and I lay still and unmoving for nearly an hour, hovering between sleep and wakefulness while engulfed in the greatest post orgasmic bliss I’d ever known with the stereo delivering the sounds of pounding rain and the distant roar of thunder all around me.

The diaper had not spilled one drop. However it was thoroughly soaked inside, and the wetness was erotically cold against my skin when I finally stirred.

Eventually I made my way to the shower and stood under the hot water on rubbery legs with the soiled diaper and tube top falling at my feet as I peeled them off. After lathering myself from head to foot I stood in the hot torrent of water for several long minutes, reliving the memory of intense pressure and release that I’d just experienced.

I toweled off and put the diaper into the trash, feeling a rush as I realized I had an entire box of them in my closet.

I stripped the comforter and mattress cover off the bed and started laundry. I remade the bed while gulping down another bottle of water to replenish my lost fluids. I set my alarm and lay down for a well-deserved nap before starting dinner.

And late that night, long after dinner and dishes and finishing the laundry, I crawled into bed with my book and realized that my nipples were still hard…..

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