An Intro To Omorashi Pt 01

My alarm shouted out at 7 am on another Saturday. Too lazy to get out of bed, I fell back asleep. An hour later I began stirring again, and now there was a sharp pain in my bladder. I slipped my feet into the crumpled jeans on my floor. My full bladder had been pushing on my prostate for the last few hours, leaving my cock swollen and stiff. Unable to comfortably zip up my jeans, I let the fly hang open as I pulled a t-shirt off a hanger. Rubbing sleep from my eyes, I pulled on some black ankle socks, and with a cock still stiff as a board, and walked towards the bathroom.

Pissing while fully erect is always a tricky endeavor; arching my back a bit, I was able to orient my hard penis towards the bowl and release the stream that had been building for the last eight hours. The relief was instantaneous, starting just as the deeply golden stream left my body.

By the time I had finished, I was soft enough again to fit into my jeans and zip up. Washed my hands. Brushed my teeth. Flossed. And like that, ready to go thrifting.

The possibility of discovering unrealized treasures has always given me a rush of exhilaration. Each one holds infinite possibilities. I have often thought it must be similar to what gamblers feel. Be it the next thrift store or the next hand dealt, thrifters and gamblers are always searching for the next big win.

Walking out my front door and starting my truck, Billie jumped into my mind.

Billie was a sexy brunette and owner of a little coffee truck drive-through I'd discovered a few days earlier. There was a line of cars behind me as I ordered, so I didn't have time to talk long, but from our conversation I gleaned she was the owner, single, and wasn't sure if she wanted to put down roots in the area or move on.

Figuring if I had a bit more time, I might have gotten her number, I decided to start my day with coffee.

Her location was about 10 minutes from me, next to a yoga studio outside of town. As I pulled up, I smiled to myself. No cars. I guess it was still just a bit after 8:00 am on a Saturday. Most of the world was still sleeping.

Pulling up, I let down my window. Billie was wearing a white t-shirt over jeans. It was clear she wasn't wearing a bra, not that she needed one. The perky handfuls and her puffy nipples, clearly visible against the sheer white fabric, made it nearly impossible to keep my eyes fixed on hers.

"Hey Billie! Can I have a coffee with just milk?"

Pausing for a beat, as if she was testing my resolve to break eye contact, she smiled, "Sure.".

As she turned her back, I blurted out, "So what do you do in your spare time?" Immediately cringed at my lack of originality. Still, she turned to me, her eyes warm and seemingly amused.

"Well, most of my time I spend here, but I've been playing pickleball a lot lately." She handed the coffee out the window. It was impossible not to notice how hard her nipples had become. My cock began to swell as I fumbled for my credit card.

Leaning out of the car, I tapped my credit card on the point of sale terminal. "Maybe you can teach me sometime?"

A beep came from the terminal, and then the inevitable question that read, "Tip Amount." I was ready to smash the highest amount, then paused for a moment. The typical "15%", "20%", and "30%" on the terminal had been replaced with "150%", "200%", and "300%.".

As if she timed her response to fill this awkward moment, "Maybe! I'm really busy lately, so I would probably want to see it first."

My mind barely registered her words as it raced along trying to figure out how to tip. Sensing I was taking too long, I just hit "300%" and swiftly turned a $3.95 purchase into $15.80.

Looking up, Billie now beamed, smiling brightly. "It's something new." She winked, "You know I open at 4:30 am." Spinning around, she pulled a black hoodie off the wall and slipped it over her head. Glancing in my rearview, I noticed a forest green minivan had appeared behind me in line.

Pulling away, Billie gave a little wave. My mind raced. My mind was always occupied by getting laid, but it had been some time since a woman so skillfully toyed with me.

Sipping my coffee as I drove, her words began to sink into my mind. What had she meant by, "I would probably want to see it first"? There's no way she was talking about my cock, was she? And what might have happened if it was 4:30 am?

As I neared the store, I was hard again. Everything about what had just happened was so strangely erotic. Pulling into a parking spot on the street, I sat for a moment and finished my coffee. It was a submissive headspace Billie had thrust me into. From the moment I pulled up, she was in control, using my most primal instincts against me. I hadn't ever thought about exploring a "submissive" role, but I had to admit that this interaction was thrilling.

By now it was just a few minutes after ten. My coffee finished, I opened the door to my truck and walked towards the front door. The store, "Space," was more of a vintage boutique. Whereas typically I'd focus on Goodwill or Salvation Army, I'd driven by enough to be curious. And what a day to be curious about the world.

In the exertion of opening the door, it struck me that I had to piss again, but that feeling was swiftly brushed aside as I took in an assortment of atomic age and mid-century decor. All manner of fantastic furniture, fashion, and trinkets. Across the room, standing at a desk beside a register, was a tall, svelte woman with turquoise hair.

"Hi there! I'm Carissa! Everything is marked. Just let me know if you need anything. Oh, and we can deliver for a fee if you see something you like."

Her voice was sweet and filled with an excitement for life.

"Is this your shop?"

Her eyes widened and she smiled largely, "Yes! I opened about 14 months ago. No, 16 months ago."

Admiring an old black Bakelite phone I responded, "That's exciting. I hope everything is going well for you." Pointing to a fuzzy blacklight poster on the wall, "I always wanted to have a shop like this."

"Thank you! I do love to hear that. I worked so hard on this spot."

Indeed, it was the kind of spot that you could spend hours in. The first floor was mostly furniture and household items, whereas the upstairs was filled with racks of old fashion. Flipping through a rack of old jeans, the pressure on my bladder had suddenly come back. Only this time it wasn't subsiding.

A pair of jeans stuck out to me. A dark blue pair with blown-out knees and a button fly. Picking them up, I walked back downstairs. The changing rooms were located across from the register where Carissa was speaking to a couple that had just walked in. Not meaning to be rude, I continued to shop, but what I really wanted was to know where the bathroom was.

Their banter stretched on for what seemed like an hour, but in actuality was probably only about 10 or 20 minutes. As the pain continued to grow, and just as I considered interrupting the three, Carissa looked over at me and spoke up.

"Oh, those jeans are great! I think they're from the mid-70s? You should absolutely try them on."

I nodded to her and walked towards the changing rooms. Three square booths with bright yellow fabric hung over their doorways. As I entered one of the rooms, I heard Carissa say goodbye to the couple. By the time I was slipping off my jeans, I heard the sounds of them leaving the store as the door opened and closed.

As I hung up my jeans on a hook, it occurred to me I wasn't wearing underwear. Pulling my nude lower body into the store pair, it was immediately clear they might be a bit too tight on my hips. As I started to button the fly, the need to piss became all too real. A sharp pain began in my bladder, and I was forced to clench with my pelvic muscles to prevent having an accident.

"How do they look?" I heard Carissa say.

"They're nice, a little tight."

"Well, let me see!"

The urge to go grew stronger as my plan to immediately change back and ask for the bathroom fell apart. In real distress, I stepped from behind the yellow curtain. As I moved, the tight waistband put direct pressure on my bladder. Carissa was standing just a few feet away as I emerged.

Seeing Carissa up close for the first time, she was gorgeous. Sharp cheekbones laid the foundation for fat, pouting lips. Her fair complexion contrasted her dark turquoise hair and black sundress. Unable to appreciate her beauty in this moment, all of my attention went to holding back my scream.

"They do look a little tight on the hips. Do you mind?"

Before I could utter a response, she pulled up my shirt so she could see my stomach. Aggressively she pulled on both front belt loops, testing the amount of stretch.

With each tug, my eyes widened. I was so close to losing it. I had to piss so bad. On a scale of 1 to 10, I was easily at a 10. At this point relief was the only thing I could think about.

Then just as quickly, without missing a beat, she slid the tips of her fingers behind the waist to test for room. The pain was unbearable. I could feel the dam starting to crumble.

"They are tight, but there's a little room!"

It was too much. A squirt of piss shot out of my penis and just as quickly formed a dark spot on the jeans.

I stammered, "I-I-I'm, uh, jeeze. I'm so sorry! I had to go so bad since I walked in and just..."

Carissa began laughing and quickly pulled her fingertips from behind the waist of my jeans. "Oh. My. God." Laughing even harder now, "Oh my God! Did you just PISS yourself?"

"Where is your bathroom?" I said quickly.

Carissa cackled harder, "Out of order."

"Are you kidding me?"

"No," Carissa said, still laughing. "Get changed, and I'll run your credit card a while." You can't leave without buying the jeans you pissed in."

Carissa walked into the dressing room and pulled my wallet out of the jeans hanging on the hook. Turning towards the register, "This will only take a moment. Which card should I use?"

"It doesn't matter!" I hopped back behind the curtain and pulled off the piss-stained jeans. There was some relief as the fly unbuttoned, but it still hurt. Pulling on the jeans I had walked in with, I slipped my shoes back on and raced up to the counter.

"Again. I'm so sorry. Just give me my wallet and the jeans. I really gotta get out of here."

Carissa was still laughing, "There's a 5-gallon bucket behind the counter I use for paper trash. If you're actually going to piss yourself, you can use it. But you need to sit down; I'm not going to clean up after you."

"Really? Yes! Yes!"

Carissa stepped from behind the shop desk and let me walk past her. On the floor was a 5-gallon orange bucket from Home Depot. Without a second thought, I unbuttoned my jeans and sat down on the bucket, tucking my penis between my legs.

And just as I did, I heard the door to the store open again.

Carissa, who seemed to be enjoying all of my discomfort, suddenly shot me a serious look. Stepping over to me, she bent down and whispered in a serious tone, "You cannot be caught pissing in a bucket behind the sales desk of my store. If anyone does find out, I'm going to tell the police you came in here and were some sexual pervert holding me hostage. You WILL go to jail. Pull your jeans back on, and wait till they leave."

With that, she popped back up and walked from behind the counter, "Hi there! I'm Carissa! Everything is marked. Just let me know if you need anything... If you need delivery on anything, let me know."

Although I couldn't see her from my spot sitting on the bucket, it was clear the customer's voice was another woman, "I'm looking for a lava lamp for my daughter..."

Staying below the desk, I struggled to pull up my jeans. It was so counterintuitive. They needed to be off to go, and here I was putting them back on. As I pulled up the zipper, I could feel the dam failing again. Another burst of piss came out. The warm liquid running against my thigh and making a wet mark this time on the back of the pants.

"... in a week or two. They're in all the time; just right now, I don't have any." I heard Carissa say.

"Okay, thanks!"

Was it possible the customer was already about to leave? Hands on the button of the fly, I waited until I heard the unmistakable sound of the door open and shut again. A moment later, I heard a deadbolt thrown as well.

"You know I have plenty of lava lamps. You're going to have to buy one of them to make up for that loss. But you can go now. She's gone." With the last word, Carissa appeared at the desk again. Looking up at her, there was no longer time to take off my jeans. Giving out, my pelvic muscles finally failed and let all of the morning's coffee go. The warm liquid running down my thighs towards my ass. Running across my skin before soaking my jeans and dripping into the bucket.

Carissa began laughing again, "You didn't even get them off!" Red in the face, laughing hysterically, "How are you this pathetic? You can't even handle pissing on your own?"

This time she pulled her iPhone from her back pocket. She fell silent as the unmistakable "ping" of a video being recorded began.

The humiliation of the moment was lost on me as the relief was remarkable. Feeling my faculties return to normal, I finally could think straight again. As the world came back into focus, the shame of pissing myself in front of this gorgeous girl began to set in. Quickly the warm piss began to feel chilly as my jeans clung to my body.

She stopped filming and slipped the phone back in her pocket.

"Sit there until you aren't going to make a mess leaving. There's a roll of paper towels just under the register. I put your wallet, along with your other piss-stained jeans, in a bag on the counter. Try not to touch anything else."

Carissa began walking away from the desk. "It would be a shame if that video ended up somewhere. Come back next Saturday, and maybe you can convince me to delete it when you purchase your lava lamp."

"Okay," I said, forcing a smile. "I--uh, thanks. I'm sorry." The words tumbled out. Such a bizarre situation.

"You said thank you!" Carissa laughed again.

I shook my bottom a bit until I was certain I was no longer dripping, then grabbed a paper towel and tried to wipe myself down. Dropping the yellow-stained rag into the bucket, I stood up, picked my purse off the counter, and walked to the door with my head down.

Unlocking the door and pushing it open, I heard Carissa one last time. "See you next Saturday!"

Without a word, I walked quickly towards my car. There wasn't anyone around to notice, but it felt like the entire world was watching me cross the street to my car.

Opening the door, I hopped in and started the engine. The clock still only glowed 10:51 am.