Golden Dreams

Elle was standing in the middle of a large ornate room. The walls were covered in rococo motifs and old floral wallpaper, and the marble floor was littered with plush red carpets. Her bare feet were dipping into one of them, soft, warm and comfortable. The morning sunlight hazily entered the room through the huge windows that lined the wall to her left, and bathed her skin in a soft warmth. Particles of dust floated in the beams of fresh light.

However, her attention wasn't placed on the room's exuberant decoration, but rather on the bed that was placed only a few meters in front of her, like an island standing alone in the vast room. In the middle of it there was pale, red-haired girl, sleeping peacefully over its red satin bed linen, her lengthy waving hair spread across the pillows. She was naked, her rosy breasts uncovered in front of Elle. She was smiling softly, dreaming, laying on her side.

She must have been 20 to 25 years old, Elle thought, as she slowly approached the girl, her feet stepping onto the cold marble floor. Her right hand unconsciously hovered over the bed sheet, as she moved closer to the side of the bed the girl's head was tilted towards. She looked like the most peaceful creature on Earth. Elle looked at her face and thought that she was very beautiful. Her smile was playful, as if she was dreaming of some mischievous prank she had taken part in, a long time ago.

Elle's gaze moved on to her neck and her breasts. They were soft and attractive, the velvety skin almost porcelain-like. Her nipples were firm, perhaps because she was sleeping on top of the bed sheets, or perhaps because of the nature of her dreams. She observed the girl's chest and abdomen rising with the rhythm of her breathing, and followed her skin down to her pubic mound. The girl's ginger pubic hair was wavy and unruly as the one flowing from her head, but at the same time neat and not uncared for.

As Elle was observing her fair skin in the morning sunlight, she heard a trickling sound. At first she didn't know what it was, but then she saw, with great surprise, a fluid slowly running down her thighs, from under her ginger hair. The red-haired girl was wetting herself in her dreams! It wasn't a strong stream but a very gentle flow, slowly drawing liquid paths across the skin of her inner thigh. Elle moved to the side, to better observe the girl's labia and the oozing golden fluid. To her own surprise, she found the fact that the girl was unconsciously wetting herself mesmerizing, and more than a little exciting.

By then, most of the girl's inner thigh was covered in her urine; her pale skin tinted a light yellow and gleaming under the sun's warm rays. Perhaps this perturbed her sleep, as her smile faded, she frowned slightly and turned on the bed, facing up towards the ceiling, her palms resting on her stomach. This movement caused a small squirt of urine as she was turning, but she didn't wake up, and her leaking returned to a trickle. This time, the warm yellow fluid didn't fall on her thigh, but gently flowed downwards along her vagina, sliding to one side as it approached the bottom, and forming a growing puddle of pee on the shiny sating sheets.

Fascinated, Elle's eyes were fixated on this watery flow, this steady stream that the girl didn't seem to fully notice. She did seem to be growing more restless, though, her smile gone and replaced by an expression of discomfort and worry. She shook in her sleep, crossing her legs slightly, and turning her body partly one way, and then the other, but she didn't wake. The muscles in her abdomen were tensing, and this made the trickle of urine turn into a steady gush that drew arcs of golden beads on the air as she turned from side to side. The droplets of her pee were landing chaotically all over her thighs and on the silky sheets, tinting them a darker shade.

Elle couldn't take her eyes away from the fountain that was pouring out from between this girl's labia. The golden glimmer of the airborne droplets was burning deep into her retinas, and she observed attentively as they formed puddles over her soft skin and dripped down to the sides. Her breathing had turned shallow, and she could feel the blood pumping at her temples. Her nipples had turned hard. All of a sudden, she was enormously conscious of the weight of her tongue. She realised she wanted to lick the girls warm juices. She was shocked by this discovery, but did not drive that desire away. Instead, she extended her hand towards the girl's outpouring torrent, and let the drops and the unbroken stream land on her palm, quickly form a small pond and overflow at the sides, the warm golden liquid dripping down from her hand.

Elle was herself getting wet, but it was a different kind of wetness. She could feel it soaking her underwear as she leaned forwards towards the now very wet girl's hips. Her heart was beating hard as she, in disbelief of her own actions, stepped onto the bed and brought her face directly into the golden arch. It hit her skin, splashing over her cheeks and chin, her lips, her neck. She was drenched in the warm, yellow liquid, and she was incredibly excited by this. She looked down at the line of pee droplets falling from her chin, and then back at the urinating girl. Incredibly, she still slept, although her face now showed clear signs of unrest and possibly traces of embarrassment. Perhaps in her dreams too she was dripping wet in her own pee.

Elle dived her face again into the stream, letting some of it enter her mouth, and her tongue feel its taste. She was herself tremendously wet by now, more than she'd ever been. In fact, she suddenly realised, it didn't feel like the wetness she would expect out of sexual arousal. It was dripping down between her thighs more fluidly than that. Horrified, she leaned back and looked towards the bottom of her short gown. It was wet, en elliptical patch that started just below her vagina, and grew bigger towards the edge of her gown. The realisation hit herself like a hammer; she too had lost control and was peeing herself. It felt warm, down her thighs, and it felt hot on her cheeks and forehead, as she stared down and the trickling line of her urine, falling free between her legs and onto a puddle beneath her. Her heart was pumping hard, her hands were trembling, she could feel sweat forming on her forehead, and the wet puddle reaching her left knee.

Suddenly, it all started vanishing, and blending together at the same time. The tall windows, the soft satin, the red-hair reaching in savage waves across the pillows, the sun coming through the windows, the wet warmth on her legs, her room.

Her room. She hazily opened her eyes and felt disoriented, as if the ornate room and her own were the same space, yet at the same time, completely different. The morning sun was coming in through her normal-sized windows, into her not-ornate room, and warming her skin and the bed sheets. Not linen, but plain cotton. It was her room. It had been a dream, she realised as her consciousness settled back in reality. But something wasn't right. She was feeling uneasy, as she did when she had forgotten something that she couldn't remember. It was screaming at the back of her head, but she couldn't hear what it was.

Then it hit her. With a fast swipe, she removed her bed sheet from above her, and she sat up. With complete astonishment, she looked at her nightwear and her legs. She saw the wet patch on her gown. She felt the wetness on her thighs, by now cold and unpleasant. Her eyes followed the damp circle that originated directly under her, and spread outwards past her knees. She saw it clear in front of her eyes, but she was so shocked she couldn't believe it.

She, an adult woman, had wet her bed.