On becoming sexually active at the late age of eighteen peeing became a great pleasure. Even when it was not directly linked to sex I loved to fill my bladder and keep it full for as long as long as possible. The release of pressure was often done gradually as I teased myself. Over time a full bladder did start to arouse me sexually.
Inevitably my first orgasm was reached with a full bladder and my hand between my legs. I don't know whether all females, or males for that matter, remember their first orgasm as clearly as I do. I had been asked out on my first date with the boy I had fancied for months. It wasn't my first date with any boy but it was the first with Brad. I was excited about him, excited by the date and excited when he slipped his cold hand into my bra. My nipple was rock-hard instantly and I held my breath as he tortured it beautifully. Nobody other than me had touched my nipples and it felt frighteningly exciting.
I had been a late developer with my boobs not growing until years after some of my lucky friends. Lack of boobs meant very little interest from the boys, well at least the boys I fancied. My nipples had always been very large with almost no areola. They looked huge on my flat chest a combination that upset me. Boarding at an exclusive all girls school in the middle of nowhere we rarely met boys and those we did seemed attracted to one thing, huge tits as they called them.
When my boobs suddenly grew to an almost acceptable size my confidence grew along with the boys' interest. It was the summer before going to University - Brad was lovely and I thought I was in love. My girlfriends bragged about what they had done with their boyfriends but I was skeptical about most of their stories. Skeptical or not I felt I was missing out. Was it possible that my friends were being fucked to orgasms that were so wonderful they nearly passed out due to the pleasure, I thought not! Other girls said they thought that they had had orgasms but were not sure. Looking back now aged 25 they had clearly not had one but I didn't suspect that then.
Back to Brad I had no idea how to ensure that my first date with him would turn physical, sexual, but I was determined to try. I knew he had gone out with a couple of my friends but he did not seem to be pushy or brag about what he had done with them. This was reasonably unusual in my limited experience of the local boys. We were both 18 but were naΓ―ve in the extreme. Looking back now it seems like a wonderful naivety but at the time it was scary but in an excited kind of way.
Our date was a trip to see a film, a movie. We caught a bus to get there but his older brother agreed to pick us up and bring me home after it. Yes my mum had even insisted that I was brought back to the door and this was the only way it could be arranged. During the film Brad was far too much of a gentleman to do what I was hoping he would. I was very close to making a move to either put his hand on my body or find his with mine. I am not sure whether I was too scared to make a move or whether I was afraid to appear too forward. We got no further than holding hands until we were waiting outside for his brother. We were in a darkish area and I knew I wanted something to happen. I looked him in the eye and gave him a gentle but passionate kiss on the lips. When I pulled away he gave me a lovely smile, took hold of my head in both his hands and returned the favor beautifully. We were still fully engrossed in kissing each other when his brother coughed politely before laughing at us. He asked us about the film before saying that he hoped we had not really taken much notice of it.
When we got to the car his brother opened the back door for me. Brad went to get in the passengers door before his brother told him to "get a grip" and get in the back with me. We were soon kissing again as his brother drove off. As he did so he looked in the mirror smiled and turned the mirror so he could not see the back seats or anything on the road behind us. Somehow it seemed very natural when between us we managed to maneuver so that his cold hand was not only under my tee shirt but also under my bra. It felt a little like his hands were connected to mains electrics. It also felt like my nipples were connected to my pussy. I thought for a split second that I was going to pee. The fizzy drinks I had drunk during the film suddenly sat very heavy in my bladder (why do cinemas always serve huge drinks?). I wanted to say something but carrying on kissing seemed far more important at the time.
My body was fighting so many different sensations. I was delighted that Brad seemed every bit as much into me as I was into him. I was, for the first time, delighted to have a huge nipple that could be so easily excited so perfectly. I was delighted, but also very scared, that my full bladder seemed ready to burst. When we pulled into the drive of my house I was gutted. I straightened myself up and gave Brad a last kiss before thanking his brother. He didn't need to move the mirror that was now perfectly positioned for us to make eye contact. Brad and I had already arranged to meet the following week. As I climbed out of the car I noticed the curtains in the lounge twitch. Standing up was a little uncomfortable as my bladder was now threatening to fail me. This was not a completely new experience but I had not been this uncomfortable in public before.
When I managed to stagger into the house my mum greeted me as if I was returning from a six-month world tour. She enquired why I was looking so flushed and whether Brad had behaved himself. I wanted to explode at her but was afraid that this would slow down me getting to relieve the acute pressure in my bladder. I said he had been the perfect gentleman and my flushed state was because the car had been very warm. She clearly wanted to grill me about the evening but did allow me to go up to my bathroom upstairs without further questions. As I started to drop my panties I was sure that I would lose control but when my bottom hit the seat things eased just a little. The extreme pressure in my bladder was just as strong but I now I could welcome it, as the worse that could happen would be I peed. I had been in this position many times in the past. I would play with my pussy until the need to pee became too strong and the pee would explode with a force that was both exhausting but also stimulating. On these occasions I would feel elated but tired after emptying my bladder, which could take minutes before every last drop was gone.
On this occasion there was something a little extra. I could still feel Brad's fingers on my nipple. When my fingers found my pussy it was not moist as usual but dripping. It was dripping, but I knew it was not pee. My clit was feeling more bloated than usual and extremely sensitive. With one hand refusing to leave my clit my other hand struggled to uncover the nipple that had been so excited earlier. I did not undo or remove any item of clothing as I was in far too much of a rush. My tee shirt was soon around my neck on one side and my bra was partly removed to allow me to get hold of my huge excited rubbery nipple. Brad had not been particularly gentle with it earlier but now I was positively demented as I rolled and squeezed it between a thumb and finger. The image in my head was Brad doing this to me. I had to work much harder to create the image that it was Brad's fingers playing with my clit. Once the image was set in my mind everything changed. In the past when I got to the point where I knew I was going to pee I would stop rubbing my clit and sit back push the pee out with great force. Now it was not me rubbing my clit, not me refusing to stop the rubbing, when my body finally capitulated it was Brad. He told me I could pee if I needed to but he was going to masturbate me while I did so.