My mother stayed with me recently while she recovered from a broken leg, and readers of my accounts of this will know we ended up in a sexual relationship which we now maintain during my once-a-week visits to her house. This story starts when mum was still living with me.
My mum (Penny) was outside my house one day, struggling to stand on her crutches while opening the front door with her key, when a lady I'd previously never met but who lives four doors along from me, offered to help. Mum gratefully accepted, offered the lady some tea, and before long two were chatting away in my drawing room. When I got home from work that night, mum introduced the lady as Maureen and explained how she'd spent several years looking after her own, disabled, mother. Maureen was 65 years old, and her mother had died just 6 months previously leaving her living alone in her house along the street. Having been accustomed to caring for someone for so long, she took naturally to looking after my mum while I wasn't there, and that was great for me as it freed up so much of my time, particularly for work.
When mum was eventually able to move out of my place, she made arrangements to stay in touch with Maureen, and by way of a thank-you to her, I invited Maureen to join me for supper one night too.
Despite being 65 years old, Maureen was deeply attractive, had a lovely pretty face and very natural-looking blonde, wavy hair. Her shoulders were narrow, her breasts beautifully rounded but not enormous, her waist quite slim and her hips wide. In fact, her bottom and thighs were really quite large compared to the rest of her. She tended to wear black trousers over tan-coloured nylons, and a plain jumper on her top half. Her shoes were ordinary, not high-heeled and not flat either -- just plain, much like the rest of her to be honest. I quickly noticed the visible-panty-line through her black trousers betraying her choice of large old-fashioned panties underneath.
When she came for supper, she dressed in her usual fashion, but had made the effort of wearing lovely deep-red lipstick and some jewellery which I'd never seen her do before.
She was great company that night, quite out-going and confident in nature but with a sadness and a serious undertone which at first I couldn't place. Eventually, after dinner and after lots of friendly chat and a decent bottle of Sancerre, she opened up about her life. As I was to discover later, what she told me was only the tip of the iceberg.
Maureen had never married, instead she had spent every single day since the age of 24 looking after her mother who had become severely physically disabled. In all that time, she'd never met a man, never had a partner and lost whatever friends she'd had before then. I was the first man she'd had dinner with since her mother's death and as I suspected, the first 'date' she'd had since she was a young woman.
Despite her devastating story, we got on famously that night, and she became openly flirty and tactile, touching my arm occasionally in order to emphasise a point when talking. We stood in the kitchen waiting for the kettle to boil and there was an uncomfortable silence as we looked at one another. I leaned forward and kissed her on the cheek, and she responded by putting her hand up to run her fingers through my hair as she looked at me, smiling. I took her hand away, kissed it, then held her tightly as we kissed passionately with open mouths.
Our kiss went on for some time, and we pressed our bodies together in our embrace. My hands moved down to her fantastic bum and caressed her through the material of her trousers and panties. She responded again, running her hands up and down my back and over my bum and the back of my thighs.
When we broke off from our kiss, she put her head on my shoulder and we held one another as I leaned back against the kitchen worktop. Without thinking about it, I found it natural to say to her "would you like to stay with me tonight?"
At first, her only response was to give me a tight squeeze as we hugged, but then without moving her head from my shoulder, she spoke. To the best of my recollection, our conversation went like this.
"That's very sweet of you, but it's difficult for me. I'm quite a bit older than you and things have been a little complicated in my life to say the least."
"That's alright Maureen, if you're not ready I understand. I've had a lovely evening anyway and I've really enjoyed your company. There's no pressure on you of course -- it would be lovely to get together again soon, though. Can we do that?"
"Yes of course we can, that's very sweet of you to understand, I just don't want to mislead you that's all."
"Er... have you misled me?"
"I've not told you everything, I'm afraid. I'm not sure you'll want to hear it either -- In fact I've never been presented with the opportunity to tell anyone before, so I'm not really sure where I'd start if I wanted to."
"Maureen, it's all perfectly OK, you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to, really. If You do want to talk, you can do, I'm happy to listen you know. I tell you what, let's get a fresh glass each and you can tell me as much or as little as you want to."
We topped up our glasses and moved to the sofa in the drawing room. I sat down first, she sat down next to me and as I turned to face her, she put her head down on my chest and lifted her legs up onto the seat so that she was half curled up and laying across me, but so that I couldn't see her face and she couldn't see mine. Then she proceeded with her mesmerising story which I recount here from memory but which I'm certain is correct in as much detail as possible.
Maureen grew up in a small village in Sussex as the only child in a middle-class family. Her best friend was a girl called Susan who lived not far away. Maureen and Susan were inseparable, even staying friends long after they left school. Maureen started work in a shop in the nearby town, but Susan preferred not to work, but just to sponge off her parents instead. She had the dream of marrying a rich man and spending her days as a kept woman.
In their early twenties , the girls would regularly have dates with boys, but Maureen never allowed herself to become too involved, especially not sexually, instead allowing a quick goodnight kiss at the end of an evening out. On Maureen's day off, Susan would go over to visit as both Maureen's parents were out at work. The girls would spend the day talking, drinking tea and playing records in Maureen's room.
At the week-end, the girls would get the train up to London and spend the afternoon in the West End followed by an evening in their favourite pubs before getting the last train home. It was on one of these journeys that, according to Maureen, the story really starts.
Maureen and Susan met a couple of chaps in a pub and got talking, the result of which was that they only just got to the station in time to catch the last train home. London-dwellers will remember that in those days the trains were corridor-less, so you entered the door directly into your compartment with no other entrance or exit from your small seating area. Two other people were in Maureen and Susan's compartment but soon they reached their destination and got off leaving just the two girls. As the train rattled slowly along, Susan said to Maureen "I don't know about you but I really need a piss. If we don't get there soon, I'm not sure I'm going to hold it in."
"I'm the same," Maureen replied, "but we're not even at Burgess Hill yet, our stop's next after that but it's 20 minutes further on!"
"Fucking hell, Maureen, don't say that, I promise I won't hold it that long!"
The girls discussed getting off at Burgess Hill to go for a pee, but without any chance of getting home from there, they ruled it out. Burgess Hill came and went and the girls simply had to wait the remaining twenty minutes before getting to their station. Unfortunately for the British Railways Board, that wasn't going to happen.
Susan sat on her seat squeezing her thighs together and shifting around uncomfortably while Maureen sat opposite her doing the same. Eventually, Susan cracked first. "Oh, fucking hell I can't hold this any longer, sorry Maureen!" With that, Susan hitched up her dress over her seamed stockings and gathered it around her waist, quickly tucked her fingers under the elastic of her white panties and pulled them down to her ankles, then leaned forward and raised herself up so her bum and cunt were hovering above the train seat. Immediately, her pee came flooding out uncontrollably and soaked into the upholstery of the seat. Susan sighed with relief as her piss hissed and splashed from her cunt, and Maureen looked on, delighting in the sight of her friend pissing herself on the train. When she'd finished, Susan pulled her panties up again, straightened her dress, then sat in a fresh seat with a contented-but-shocked look. She looked over to Maureen and said "Go on, Maureen, it doesn't half feel better!"
The two girls squealed and giggled at what had happened, but that proved too much for Maureen's bladder and without warning, her piss started to let itself go. Maureen managed to pull her skirt out of the way but had no chance of getting her panties off, instead adopting much the same semi-squatting position over the seat as Susan had done. Her piss first soaked into the cotton material of her white panties, then flooded down into the seat for what seemed like an age before subsiding. A few last squeezes shot out the last few jets of piss into her panties, and she'd finished. Maureen stood up, carefully manoeuvred her skirt up around her waist and took off the sopping wet panties over her bare legs and shoes. She held them at arm's length and distastefully twisted them to wring out the residue of her soaked-in piss onto the train seat. With that, she shook them and put them into her coat pocket.
Anyone familiar with British trains of the 1960s will know this could only improve the upholstery.
Maureen and Susan laughed and joked about what had happened, and eventually reached their stop and walked home. They reached Maureen's house first where the two hugged, kissed cheek-to-cheek and parted. At this point, Maureen was thinking somewhat different thoughts from those of Susan.
The following Wednesday, Susan came over to Maureen's house as usual and the two girls wasted no time in getting to the subject of their train journey and particularly Maureen's panty-pissing incident. They howled with laughter as they recounted their versions of it, each of them sitting on one of the two twin beds in Maureen's room. After a while a pause came in the conversation, and Maureen took a deep breath and decided to say something which she'd previously been in two minds about. "Susan, there's something I didn't tell you at the time when I pissed my panties..."
"What?" an intrigued Susan enquired with a smile.
"You know when I did it on the train seat through my panties," she hesitated "well, it sort of felt quite nice. Quite sexy really"
