"I know, Mike. I'm OK if it's just, yknow, naughty games. If we control ourselves."
"Hmmm. Are you 'controlling yourself' now? Your bladder, I mean?"
She laughed: "Barely. Oh don't look so sad. I'll let you watch when the time comes."
Mum called us in for lunch. Sandwiches and tea -- a proper working lunch. Emma seemed to be in a little discomfort. I guessed why. She made it worse for herself by chugging water. While I finished my last sandwich, she disappeared to her room and when she came back, she said: "Oh Mike. I looked in the shed and couldn't find the ... um ...'
"Fertilizer spray?"
"Yeah, that's it. Show me where?"
She had her conspiracy face on. I said: "I'll be a couple of minutes." I was teasing I knew, trying to prolong her discomfort, but she said: "Oh I'll wait for you there. I need other things too." She silently mouthed the words "I can't wait!"
She left, I was ten steps behind her. We got to the shed, darted inside, and she said: "You prick. I nearly lost it all over the path. Hold this."
She handed me a little bundle. Fresh jeans and panties. She began that cross-one-leg-over-the-other dance, pushed her hand into her crotch and bent at the waist.
"Oooh, Mikeie! I don't know if I wanna pee or jill off the most."
"Do both."
"Another time maybe. Oh. Oh it's coming. I can't stop it now."
Emma stood upright, opened her thighs slightly, and looked at her crotch. Instantly a dark patch appeared in her jeans right where her pussy was, it grew quickly into a heart-shape then two tendrils of dark blue extended down her thighs, her calves, and then her pee ran in torrents off the bottoms of her jeans to the shed floor to be eaten up in the dust.
I watched, aroused. Emma gripped her breasts and tortured her nipples through her t-shirt. Her stream was so powerful that the jeans could not soak it all up. Two little lines of pee escaped them, either side of the sewn join, for a few moments. The hissing was so erotic, made all the more so by her moans of relief and pleasure.
After a few seconds, Emma pinched off the flow. She undid her belt, button and zipper and rolled the soaked jeans and panties down to her mid-thigh. She began rubbing her clit hard and fast, sheeshing in breath fixing me with her gaze.
"Fuck Mikey that's so fucking hot. Oh shit. I can't hold it!"
Piss flew everywhere as she frigged her clit and peed at the same time. It ran down her bare thighs, fell into her panties, splashed on the floor and her hand. I dropped my jeans and jerked off watching her. Eventually her bladder was empty, and there were sounds of birds singing, and the breeze. They formed a background to the symphony of heavy breathing, light moans, and pee dripping onto the hard dirt floor.
I stepped towards Emma. In my mind I was going to go for it, the holy grail. I turned her around, she bent over so she supported herself on the wheelbarrow, still frigging and dripping everywhere. I bent my knees and had my cock at her entrance when she stood and stopped my.
"No, Mike. No. Just this... OK?"
I understood. She let me put my cockhead against her clit, I fucked her clit-hood while I wanked, she came, and I shot a load on her belly. After what might have been, it was an unsatisfying release.
I helped Emma out of her soaked clothes. She pointed out that she'd forgotten about her shoes and socks, so having dried herself inelegantly with the little towel she'd brought, she put on her change clothes and sneaked off, barefoot to put them in the washer. We barely spoke, I figured we'd almost crossed the final barrier and it scared us a little.
Later in the day, we spoke about it. I told her I was within seconds of fucking her properly, she admitted she was going to let me. We lay beside each other on her bed, as we sometimes did. Silence ruled for a moment. Then Emma propped herself above me and looking deep into my eyes she said: "I know how close we were. But if we did anything more, well, we can't undo it. We can't split up like a couple that didn't work out. We're brother and sister forever."
"Yeah. Maybe we should cool it."
