This is a "continuation" of Jane and Sue.
As such it is pushing at the boundaries of what two middle class women who like getting together on an evening for a drink, a smoke, and ultimately wetting themselves would get up to.
In this case, please do not read if easily offended.
Jane and Sue- Number 2.
Jane tilted her head back and chugged the last of her pint of the Robinsons purple summer fruits squash. She licked her tongue against her lips. She then put the glass down with so much force that it clanged against the worktop. She was actually scared that she had broken it.
For Jane really needed both hands spare. But at that moment she could only afford the one. She then forcefully lowered her left hand back down on her kitchen centre island, it landed next to the empty glass with an equally loud thud. She groaned as leaned her slight frame against her arm. She briefly whimpered and grimaced as she instantly moved her spare hand to hurriedly place the orange filter between her natural pink lips and took a gentle drag on her recently lit cigarette. Her hope was that as she held the smoke in her lungs, before letting it slowly exhale. It would relax her tense body a little. She had recently found enjoyment of holding the smoke in her lungs and just letting the smoke drift from her lips.
As the grey fog silently dispersed, she bit her bottom lip and winced, groaning, and moaning. She got slightly louder as she squeezed her slim bare thighs hard together. Then she looked across the table at the radiator. As she raised her head and took yet another desperate drag on the cigarette, hoping against all the odds that the smoke would relax her purposely stressed body. It did not, she quickly dropped the filter, still only half smoked in her glass ashtray alongside the half a dozen brown stained extinguished butts in it.
With a squeak and squeal of mostly excited pleasure as she bent forward almost double. So much so that she bent her knees as she almost became a human ball. With a squeak as another wave of pressure hit her, she straightened a little. Then in the process she bounced to an unknown rhythm as she wiggled her hips and bottom desperately pushing her bare thighs hard together. She loudly moaned in pleasure, then shrieked at the self-inflicted torture. Then laughed at herself at the silly but wonderful situation she had put herself in. With her hands firmly wedged between her thighs she then hobbled and crabbed, carefully wiggling one foot in front of the other, trying to separate her legs with the smallest gap possible as she hobbled slowly across the room. She again laughed at the situation with another yelp she scrunched herself up again in a human rock shape she had made. She straightened herself out and continued crabbing her way across. Jane got close to the radiator and with untested confidence straightened up for a second before again squeaking loudly as she instantly bent over double again and firmly placed both of her hands between her warm wet thighs holding her now slowly dampening crotch tightly as she humanly could. She just did not want to let go, however much she actually needed to, just yet.
Whilst still whimpering she continued to shuffle and crab her way across the kitchen daring not to move her legs and squished together her now dribbling and moistening thighs hard against her hands as steadfastly as she could. Within a couple of strange crab-like paces she reached the wall and whilst continuing to grimace she slowly removed one wet hand from between her legs, before slapping her thighs instantly back together. As she squeezed her legs as her hand reached out and grabbed her what had been this morning a clean fresh pair of white denim trousers. Autumn wasn't the season for them, she had put them away a month ago. But she had been thinking about them again as over the summer had been overly fascinated at the colours and patterns she could make in the fabric when she repeatedly peed in them. Today was no different.
Whilst bouncing on the balls of her feet she got them off the kitchen radiator and, in her hands, whilst she still enthusiastically was still bopping as if on a pogo stick, she then fought with her feet to get them into the now stiff leg holes of the cardboard like, dried trousers. All whilst still trying to oxymoron style clamp her thighs together, desperately trying to hold back the tidal wave of the force of gravity, and the outbound wet pleasure it would soon bring.
Jane was attempting this all while being unbalanced and still trying to hop from one foot to the other with nervous anticipation of the glorious feeling that was about to happen. She had to stop as a squirt splashed through her panties. She clamped her muscles tight once again. Then with some deft now practised movement, whilst still removing then instantly putting one hand back between her crotch, she just about got the trousers back on.
Jane had been wearing the white jeans on and off all day, but in all honesty, they had spent most of the day off her and neatly folded over the now very hot radiator. They were there trying to dry off whilst urine continued slowly dripping from the leg hems on the floor. Putting them on the radiator was her attempt to get them vaguely dry and potentially a little more comfortable before putting them back on each time.
She dared herself and opened her thighs for the briefest millisecond, there was the obvious result of a delightful spurt into her knickers as the gusset obviously moistened. Her trapped fingers could not help but hindered as they gently massaged her mound.
She continued to tug and yank up at the belt loop to pull her jeans up, before clamping her hands against her continuing to darken knickers and moistening thighs as she squeezed them hard together dribbles tickled as they trickled down towards her knees. She didn't bother with the top button against her sloshing swollen belly. However as she bounced she pulled up the brass fly up halfway, the process of tugging the trousers up on her hips squishing them hard against her, forming a perfect moist camel toe against her now particularly soggy underwear.
She didn't care, her hand was soon back harder against her crotch pressing the fabric hard against her urethra as she forced her clothes up deeper just prolonging her enjoyment of the inevitability of her losing battle. As night follows day, it really didn't matter she was performing this ritual, holding herself to fail to keep herself dry for as long as possible.
There was no one else in the room but her. This whole performance dance of a show was all for just her own sexual enjoyment. Her own piss wet sexual pleasure. She was prolonging it just for her own wet desire. Her fingers later would get to work. For Jane the important thing was that the warm dry trousers against what had been her cold bare legs and now for the next few seconds still relatively dry. As she had found over the past 48 hours, there is always a bit of seepage.
Her white jeans had been a crisp ironed fresh white this morning straight out of the airing cupboard. Yesterday's pair as well as her panties had gone straight in the bin. She had washed the white trousers due to her wet activities only the other day.