By Susan Greenway
[This story involves all bodily functions--scat, pee, and period--so if any of that offends you, please read a different story. It also includes disciplining, such as spanking and caning. All characters are 18 or over.]
My mother's approach to teaching me about my body really didn't begin until I became 18. This was in accord with our family's general openness about sex and nudity, plus I was now grown up in their eyes. After I turned 18, doors were usually open: rarely, when my mother and dad were having sex, they might close the bedroom door. Otherwise, you could close the bathroom door or leave it open: it was your call.
It was never strange for someone else to be in the bathroom even when I was defecating. My dad or older brother would come into the bathroom to shave, and I would not hesitate to use the toilet when they were shaving. I suppose this seemed all right to me because no one made a big deal or was obviously perving on me. I was naïve but heck, no one molested me or even said anything. They didn't stare at me either. (I guess I should add here that I never wanted to see my father or brother on the toilet or even standing to pee into it. Girls using the toilet get my juices going, not men.)
This set-up was not particularly easy for me, because out in the world, people expect more privacy. It was a rare occasion when a girlfriend went into a ladies' room stall with me. Usually, it was some kind of emergency.
Sometimes, girls experience bedwetting after they have grown up. This happened to me after I turned 18. I never wet the bed more than even once a month. It was a nervous thing because this was the first time it ever happened to me. It was enough, however, for my mother to make me wear diapers at night. It was my turn to "become a big girl," she said. Since I already was a big girl physically, she meant that I needed to stop wetting the bed. But it led me to have a sort of extreme interest in peeing.
My brother, who was two years older, admitted to me that he had wet the bed for the first time after he was already 18. He told me not to worry, admitting that was hard to do, but that I would get over it if I didn't obsess about it. He was right, because I didn't wet the diaper for more than two weeks, so my mother let me wear panties again. The whole experience was horribly humiliating for me, however. I was deathly afraid that someone outside my family would find out about it, even though I didn't have to wear diapers during the day.
I never realized that it had to be pretty unusual for both a girl and boy of similar ages in the same family to begin to wet the bed at an age like 18 when most of their peers have left that behind years ago. Did it run in the family? Well, my family was open, as I've noted, but I wouldn't dare ask Mom or Dad if they had ever been bedwetters.
As it was, my mother seemed to think I had to be taught to use the toilet all over again, which was crazy, but I was enthralled when she took me into the bathroom and had me watch as she pulled her skirt up and her panties down, then sat on the toilet seat. I watched in amazement and fascination as the yellow stream of pee emerged from the hairy triangle between her legs. Even more incredible to me at that age was when she turned round on the seat, and I stared at her bottom as I saw a long, firm brown turd emerge from her bottom hole.
Then she turned back around and took some toilet paper to remind me (as if I needed reminding) that women always wiped front to back between their legs. She even showed me the paper, with the wet yellow stains and the brown smudges of her bowel movement on it.
Once I had gotten past the bedwetting interlude, my mom did something she rarely did: tell me about her own menstrual experience. I welcomed this, because it was only now, when I was 18, that she first talked to me about my period. She said her mother wore bulky tabbed pads, called sanitary napkins, which were attached with clips at each end to an elastic belt she would wear around her waist, called a sanitary belt, or a Kotex belt, since that was the leading brand of pad, and Kotex's name was on them. I didn't ask her if she had ever worn those, because I thought she might get annoyed with me. She was sensitive about her age.
She then told me that she knew that now that I was 18, I might start using tampons but that that was up to me. She said she had never felt comfortable with them, both in getting them inside her in the right place and in relying on them to keep her period blood from leaking out into her underpants.
So, now that I was 18, I had no strange feelings or revulsion about normal bodily functions. Mom took more of an interest now in my bodily functions because of my bedwetting. She even encouraged me to look in the toilet after I peed or shat. I never was really sure about what I was looking for. It did, however, increase my interest in checking out my bowel movements. They varied in color, texture, smell, and consistency. Later, when I was starting to act on my dominant impulses, I learned from other dommes would have their subs report on their toilet use, including descriptions such as color, texture, smell, and consistency
Even though I was clearly over my bedwetting now, I had at least one accident after I was already 18 involving pooping my pants and definitely peeing in them. I had forgotten to go once before cheerleaders' practice and right when we did those jumps and lifts where your tiny skirt goes up and they get to see your panties made of the same material and the same color as your skirt, I had that awful feeling when you know you've had that kind of accident.
In my case, they got to see a wet crotch but at least it was only for a moment. My best girlfriend did see it and kidded me later, saying that it would not be cool for a senior who was a cheerleader to wear a diaper. Although I kept my cool, that remark hurt because she didn't know how recently I had to wear a diaper for the bedwetting interlude. She also didn't know, thank god, that on that sudden leap, I had pooped a little too. I'm not sure that I could've faced them if the other cheerleaders found out about that.
I did have boyfriends in college who were mildly freaked when they were getting their hands on my panties, or even felt a pad inside them. One was stupefied when he had gotten his fingers in there. He was about to fingerfuck me and felt my tampon string. He backed off quickly, but I stood and let him see me naked down there. I then sweetly asked him to pull the string for me. He responded slowly but did it and the tampon was only about half soaked. I got him to smell it and then told him he would now learn how to stick a new one in me.
I was pretty brazen, or rather, open about all this because I kiddingly said that if he wanted to fuck me, he was going to have to start by learning how to stick something else, a tampon, into my pussy. It wasn't too long, as it turned out, before he did get to fuck me. Eventually, he got to like doing it when I had my period because he could tell how horny I would be then.
My girlfriend Betsy and I got into bathroom play one day when I was over at her house. Her mom worked during the day, so we had the place to ourselves. One day after we each had had our eighteenth birthdays, I said I needed to go pee. Bets followed me and asked if she could watch. I grinned and said it would be my pleasure. She smiled and said she'd let me come along when she needed to use the toilet. This was the first time anyone outside my family had seen me pee. I felt myself getting wet down there and it wasn't from letting any pee out.
I did what I usually did after we were in the bathroom and closed the door. I raised my skirt and kept it above my waist. Then I pulled my panties down and sat down. Bets could see my pubic hair since I didn't shave--heck, it had taken so long before I had a decent-sized bush down there--and then, without being very self-conscious about it, I felt my pee coming down and then it was splashing into the bowl.
"Wow, Cindy," Bets said, obviously excited, "you really pee up a storm!"
