Date: Sat, 4 Jun 2022 16:31:31 -0700 (PDT)
From: jonjonleprechaun@comcast.net
Subject: Teen wetter

This story is mostly fictional, though it does have some real-life elements
I remember from growing up. This is a one-episode story. If you like what
you've read, please send me fan mail at jonjonleprechaun@comcast.net. Also,
you can read my other stories posted on Nifty in the Gay sections
Adult-Youth and Young Friends: Billie's Tightie Whities, My Summer Surgery
and Marcus, 14 y/o freeballer, Heat Wave Boys, Sixth Grade Josh, What
Happened When Miguel Wet His Pants, and (most currently & still on-going)
the XYZ boys series.

To contribute to the continuing operations of the Nifty Erotic Stories
Archive website using a credit card or other methods of donation, we
encourage our supporters to make a donation to the Nifty Archive Alliance.

-Jon

Urination, No Sex, Masturbation: teen, wetting, self-exploration

Randy cursed the traffic gods. Being stuck on the freeway was a pain in the
best of circumstances, and he was only two miles from his exit (four miles
from his home). He had been stuck here for an hour; for at least half of
that hour he had had one hand in his lap, gripping himself. But the feeling
was getting too strong to ignore, and he was afraid it wouldn't be
enough. Because Randy had to piss. REALLY had to piss.

Now he regretted guzzling that Big Gulp while he drove. And regretted
throwing the empty cup out the window even more.

`Come on, Randy, you're sixteen years old. You are NOT going to wet your
pants!' he thought to himself. For one thing, he would ruin his car
seat. If he lost control his shorts and briefs wouldn't be able to soak it
all up.

So he tensed his bladder muscles as much as possible, and gripped himself
as hard as he could.



Then the traffic gods smiled on him. Traffic started moving. Within minutes
he was off of the freeway and heading down his street, and then pulling
into his driveway. It was empty.

`Good,' he thought, `no one else is home.' He quickly threw the car into
park and jerked up the parking brake, turned off the ignition, and
practically jumped out. His thin, 6' frame was half-doubled over as he ran,
one hand still clutching himself, as he felt the telltale spasms in his
groin that told him he was about to lose control. He struggled one-handed
with his keys to open the front door, and felt a quick jet of warm piss
spurt into his underpants.

"NO!" he yelled as he ran down the hallway to the only downstairs
bathroom. His briefs grew sodden as several more quick squirts shot
out. And to make matters worse, he had trouble undoing his webbed leather
belt. When he finally got his shorts open, his bladder gave out and his
urine began flowing.

"CRAP!" he yelled, and just sat down on the toilet. As he felt his piss
soaking his baby blue 2(X)ist briefs, he looked down to check the damage in
his shorts. The light grey linen was noticeably darker around the fly; he
knew he'd have to do laundry before his parents got back home later
tonight.

Randy stayed sitting on the toilet for a few minutes after his piss stream
stopped, until the dripping finished. Standing, he pulled up his soaked
briefs and then his saturated shorts, and checked himself out in the
mirror.

It was obvious what had happened. The telltale, dark pattern in his crotch
told that he had wet his pants. But he saw something else just as obvious:
the bulge behind his zipper.

Randy had an erection. A rock-hard boner.

It had been several years since Randy had last pissed his pants. When he
was younger he had done it on purpose. He remembered that he always enjoyed
the risk of doing something so forbidden, until he hit puberty and started
worrying more that others would discover his hidden thrill. But he had
forgotten that he also enjoyed the physical feeling of having his dick and
balls encased in the warm wetness.

He walked into the kitchen, and looked at the clock. 2:00, his parents
wouldn't be home for at least four more hours, maybe even five or six. And
his fifteen-year-old brother Sean was staying at a friend's house for the
weekend. So he decided to do something he hadn't done since he was 11 or
12: hang out in piss-wet clothing.

Randy headed out through the back door, out onto the back deck. The spring
sun was just warm enough. After kicking off his shoes and sliding off his
t-shirt, he got a bottle of flavored water out of the mini-fridge and
grabbed one of the plastic recliners. He took them out onto the grass, and
laid down.

A memory came flooding back. Randy recalled being eleven, in this same
setting: home alone, lying on the recliner barefoot and bare-chested, but
that time with a 6-pack of soda on the ground next to him. He had drank
them all down, one after the other; the fullness in his crotch after the
2nd can getting more intense with the emptying of each subsequent can.
Until midway through can #5, when he lost it and let his bladder empty into
his pants. And again as he started can #6. And again as he finished that
one. When he wet himself for the fourth time that day, he could clearly
hear his piss flooding into the puddle in the grass under him.

He also remembered being hard that day too. But back then, he didn't really
know what to do with it.

Now he did.

As he drained that liter bottle, he massaged his hard-on through his shorts
with his other hand. Hard enough that those familiar feelings coursed
through his entire teen body, but not hard enough to get him anywhere close
to the edge. At least not yet.

After finishing the bottle he padded back onto the porch and pulled two
more out of the fridge, then went and laid back down, continuing where he
had left off. Before long his bladder filled back up, causing his hard cock
to throb even more as he rubbed it. Midway through that second bottle the
spasms started.  He continued kneading himself, even as the dam burst again
and he flooded his pants again, feeling the warm liquid soaking through the
thin material onto his hand.

When he finished pissing, he brought his piss-wet hand to his mouth and
licked it. He knew he didn't really like the taste of his piss (he had
tried it off and on over the years), but it threw another illicit layer
over his actions and almost brought him to the edge. But he backed off,
wanting to make this experience last.

Less than an hour later, he was just finishing the third bottle when he let
himself flood his pants again. As that stream died off, he increased his
hand action until he felt his balls pull up as he approached the point of
no return. Only this time, he didn't stop.

Randy groaned aloud as his groin tensed up and then relaxed, jet after jet
of teen cum flooding his already-soaking briefs. He had shot off into his
underpants lots of times before; mostly in bed, also a few times while
sitting in class during particularly boring lectures. But never outside
like this.

The teen laid there for a few minutes after his orgasm finished, and then
half-sat up and looked down his body at his shorts. The front, and down
between his legs, was soaked. He could feel the combination of
warm-but-cooling piss, together with the stickiness of his spent cum,
surrounding his genitals. Then he laid back on the recliner, put his hands
behind his head, and drifter off to sleep.



Some time later, a noise half woke up Randy. He continued lying there, with
his eyes closed. Until he felt a coolness, a shadow blocking the sun from
his naked upper body.

He moved his hand to shade his eyes, opened them, and saw Sean standing
there, smirking down at him.

"What did you do, bro, wet your pants in your sleep?"

Randy looked down at himself again. His shorts still had that obviously
pissed-in look. His hands flew down to cover himself, but it was too late.

"Y-you won't tell mom and dad, will you?" Another memory flew into Randy's
brain: he was 10 and Sean was 9, and he was lying in the bathtub just
wearing a pair of freshly peed-in tightie whities. And then the bargaining,
the blackmail, to keep his brother from tattling.

Here they were again.

Sean sneered down at Randy.

"Maybe not."

Randy sighed. "What do I gotta do?"

But Sean didn't say anything, he just stood there. Until he reached down,
undid his own shorts, and pulled out his half-hard cock. And then
relaxed. And emptied his half-full bladder onto Randy.