Bursting Club Pub Crawl Ch. 02

Author's note - this story is about desperation and wetting fetishes. If that's not your thing, this would be a very good place to stop... it also helps if you've read the first part first.

*****

Kate and Sam were both having trouble walking as they left the Prince of Orange. Sam was pressing a knuckle into the crotch of her skirt to try and help contain herself, while Kate was hopping up and down.

"Oh God," Kate moaned, "I can't hold it. I really can't!"

She darted into an alleyway between two buildings and leaned against a wall for support, legs crossed, and groaned. Sam and Liz both watched closely for any tell-tale signs and were soon rewarded with the sight of a thin, glistening trickle, catching the diffuse light from the orange streetlights, running down Kate's stockinged legs beneath the hem of her tiny black dress. The flow ran over her feet and began to form a growing puddle on the pavement. All three women looked around, but no passers by seemed to be taking any particular interest in what was happening. Finally Kate stopped, red-faced, and uncrossed her legs. Her stockings clung wetly to her legs, the heat from the pee quickly cooling, but aside from some droplets on the straps of her black stilettos, there were no obvious signs to be seen. Kate murmured a prayer of gratitude, as she knew that she was not going to be able to change now.

Sam gasped, and Kate and Liz both quickly glanced in her direction. A very thin trickle could also be seen on her dark tights, but she screwed her face up and with a tremendous effort of will managed to stop the flow before it could wet her shoes too badly.

"Well that's definitely Kate the loser this time," said Liz, who was still looking calm and collected, although her nipples were clearly visible through the thin satin of her shimmery white blouse. "That's two accidents for Kate, and one for Sam. What should Kate's forfeit be? I know - in the next pub you have to drink a pint!"

Kate sighed a little, but the redhead looked clearly relieved. Not only could the forfeit have been far worse, but in letting go so thoroughly she had managed to rid herself of most of her discomfort. However, all three of them knew from experience that as soon as you went the first time, it was impossible to keep from wanting to go again and again. As Sam had once said: "once you pop, you can't stop!"

However, for now it was Sam who clearly was in trouble. As her forfeit for her little slip outside on the street, Liz and Kate made Sam order the next round. It was cruelly amusing to watch her at the bar trying to gabble out the order through clenched teeth: "A... hnn... pint of bitter shandy, a large... ah! gin and... ng.. tonic... and, (gasp) a... half of lager... pl... please."

Barely had she got the words out when she closed her eyes as another dribble ran down her leg. Sam clutched at the bar, white knuckled, for support and again tried valiantly to clamp her thighs together and shut off the stream, and once again managed - just! But there was now a slight damp patch at the bottom of her pencil skirt as the three girls moved over to an unoccupied table.

Conscious of the time, Kate swigged quickly at her pint of shandy. In spite of having just gone she could feel her bladder quickly becoming full again, and her legs jiggled nervously under the table. Sam was in even more trouble - the two little dribbles that she had been forced to give into had had virtually no effect on relieving the pressure on her bladder, and she was now looking pale and drawn, one hand pressed hard against her crotch as she squirmed about on her seat. If anything, sitting down had made it worse, as the waistband of her skirt cut into her distended belly.

Liz just smiled calmly, and sipped her drink.

"Ohhh, you bitch," hissed Kate, "how can you be so bloody calm? You aren't human! Sam - make sure she's drinking these and not pouring it in a plant pot or something."

But Sam wasn't concentrating. She was lost in her own world of misery, writhing and twisting in her chair, desperately trying to keep herself from pissing herself in the seat, where it would soak her work skirt.

"Drink up," Liz said nastily.

Kate groaned, but continued forcing the pint of cold liquid down her. Sam gulped at hers, anxious to be out and gone. Liz raised her own glass, and the three of them drank in silence for a while.

The Volunteer, where they were drinking, was pub number six; the half-way mark. It also marked the edge of the bright lights of the city centre. The next four pubs were dodgy inner-city boozers, where three pretty office girls on a night out could expect some fruity comments and jibes at the very least, and a lot more male attention. It was also where the forfeits tended to turn a bit nastier!

All three girls - just about! - managed to make it out of the Volunteer without losing it, although Sam was beaded with sweat from the effort of clenching what felt like every muscle in her body. As she moved, she could feel her bladder sloshing and she hugged herself as she left, shaking slightly. Kate was beginning to prance nervously again, looking disgustedly at Liz, who, aside from swaying slightly, as they all were after the amount of alcohol they had consumed, was still betraying very little sign of having drunk three pints of beer. Although... yes - Kate noticed a slightly pale and drawn look to Liz's features and a tightening of her mouth that at least suggested that the smug bitch wasn't having it all her own way! Liz had gone quiet, which Kate had long since learned was a sure sign that she was actually fighting hard to keep from exploding. But Kate was having her own troubles. That pint had really wrecked her and she could feel her desperation building again. Every step she took on her black spike heels seemed to transmit itself a thousand-fold into her distended bladder. Digging her fingernails into her palms to distract herself with the pain, she started setting herself little targets. Just make it to the next street corner. Good. Now just make it to the next lamppost. Now the next street. Now the pub door. Now... oh God!

Three men were smoking outside the Plume of Feathers, pub number seven. They were young, working class, one of them black, already a bit drunk. They leered openly at the three women as they approached. And then they were treated to the extraordinary sight of a pretty redhead in what was already a pretty brief black minidress suddenly hike it up to reveal black stocking tops and a tightly clinging pair of wet panties. But they had barely managed to get out a drunken "Waaayyheeeeyyy!" when they got to watch open-mouthed as Kate groaned in relief and humiliation as golden liquid cascaded from between her tightly clenched legs, gushing from the crotch of her little black panties, rivulets forming on her stockings and flowing down her slim, black-stockinged legs, saturating her ankles and shoes. Kate simply stood there, red faced, clutching the hem of her dress around her waist, as she allowed herself the luxury of forcing every last drop from her bladder, wisps of steam rising around her.

"Holy shit," one man whispered in awe.

"Are you all right, love?" another, perhaps more chivalrous, volunteered.

But suddenly everyone's attention was drawn to Sam. "Damn, damn, damn!" she shrieked. Watching Kate lose it had been the final straw for her, and she could no longer stop the inevitable. Her hands were balled into fists and tears were rolling down her cheeks with the effort of trying to keep it in, making her mascara run, but it was too late - two and a half hours and three pints of drinking suddenly exploded from her in a veritable Niagara of piss. Her lacy white knickers and black tights served only to spread the flow as it emerged, like a lawn sprinkler. Sam wailed in despair as her thighs and the inside of her skirt were rapidly saturated, and the tight pin-striped pencil skirt acted as a funnel, so that it looked as though a splattering spray of golden droplets simply emerged from the bottom of it, across her calves, shoes and the pavement for a foot around her. She simply stood there, shaking and sobbing in both relief and humiliation.

"What the fuuu...?" the third man began.

"Erm..." a slightly taut-faced Liz said. "I suppose you'd better be told about the Bursting Game, then."

The three men turned out to be Dave - a shaven headed, beer-bellied man in an England football shirt, Mike, his skinnier, taller friend, and Clive, the black guy, all of them working for a local removals firm. They listened slightly disbelieving as Liz tried to explain the 'Bursting Game' , after which Mike gamely volunteered to go inside the pub and get drinks for the women, as neither Kate nor Sam were really in a state to go inside a pub at the moment.

"There is just one more thing," Liz said, her voice now - finally! - starting to sound strained from the effort of keeping her own pee in, though her face still betrayed no obvious discomfort. "Forfeits."

Kate and Sam groaned, guessing what was coming next.

"Kate, you were first," Liz said, "I think it's about time you got to drink some piss. Can one of you gentlemen fill up a pint for her?"

"You kinky fucking bitches," Dave couldn't help saying out loud. But still, he picked up someone's discarded drink from where it had been left next to the wall of the pub, emptied out the dregs of beer from it, and fumbled at his zipper to reveal his cock, already tumescent with arousal at the strange antics unfolding in front of him. Then, with an "aaaaaah" of relief, he began to spray the inside of the glass with piss. Dave had been drinking beer all night and this was his first 'visit'. The pungent, thick yellow flow filled the glass in seconds, almost to the top, and by the time he was shaking the last drips into it there was only an inch of clearance between the liquid level and the top of the glass. He handed it to Kate, who took it, her big doe eyes seemingly hypnotised by the glass of yellow liquid before her.

Liz and Sam smirked at her, Sam even in spite of her sopping wet tights and skirt cooling nastily in the night air.

"How about a toast?" Liz announced. "To Dave!" Her eyes never left Kate's face as the redhead shakily raised the pint glass to her pouting lips and, ignoring the strong smell at her button nose, tilted the glass to send a mouthful of the yellow liquid into her mouth. She held Liz's gaze and forced herself to swallow. The taste was vile and she had to fight from gagging. Dave simply watched, transfixed.

"And Sam," Kate protested in between mouthfuls, "what does she get?"

Liz considered. The tradition was that each forfeit had to top the next. A glance at Clive's and Dave's erections showed that there was really only one place to go...

"I think Sam gets to relieve one of these gentlemen," Liz said primly. "How about you, Clive?"

"Fuck, yeah," Clive breathed. "But er... maybe not out here in the street, yeah? There's an alley down the side here."

And so, while Kate sipped at her cooling glass of Dave's piss, Sam got to awkwardly kneel down in her pencil skirt in a dirty alley, still wearing her smart business suit and crisp white work blouse, her piss-soaked nylon-clad knees resting in who knew what, to unzip Clive's jeans and pull his fattening cock out. She glanced at the entrance to the alleyway, but Dave was running interference there, while making sure that he got a good eyeful of the classy, busty brunette as she took a deep breath and then closed her lipsticked lips around Clive's dark prick, sucking for all she was worth.

By this time, Mike had returned with a tray of drinks. He took in the sight of Sam gobbling at his friend's cock in the alleyway and let out a "fuckin' 'ell!"

Liz accepted her drink politely and sipped it demurely as she watched Sam sucking at Clive's cock, with intent, her head bobbing backwards and forwards, Clive's dark hands coming around to grasp Sam's chustnut bob of brown hair, beginning to thrust his hips. Sounds of slurping and sucking echoed nastily down the alley.

Liz looked meaningfully at Kate, who was holding her nose with one hand as she tried to gulp down the pint of piss. But Liz knew that her attempts to distract herself had reached an end. She suddenly closed her eyes and said "oh, bugger," very quietly. Slowly she slipped down the alley wall that she had been leaning against, and squatted down on her haunches. There was a faint trickling noise, and as everyone turned to stare at her, a quiet but steady stream of urine ran from Liz. Sitting down as she was, her thin white cotton skirt briefly acted as a container, filling with piss and saturating every inch of her little cream silk knickers, before the sodden material of her skirt let the yellow liquid through, pooling rapidly on the alley floor between her white stiletto-heeled boots. The pissing seemed to go on for ever, as even Liz's cast iron bladder let loose and emptied all three pints of liquid out of her in one, incredibly long stream.

"Oh dear," Kate said in mock sympathy, pint of piss still in her hand, "have you had to go at last, Liz? It sounds like you're due for a forfeit as well, then, doesn't it?"

Liz nodded weakly, as relief shone clearly across her face, but she knew that Kate would be out for revenge now.

"Don't bother to get up," Kate said, as Liz started to straighten up from her squatting position. "Are any of you lads bursting for a piss?"

"Yeah," Mike replied eagerly. "I am!"

"Well I think you need a toilet then, don't you. Why don't you use Liz's mouth?"

Liz looked daggers at Kate, but there was no time for recrimination. Mike was already fishing his cock out of his dirty jeans and pointing it at the demure and reserved Liz's pretty, upturned face. She sighed and opened her mouth.

Mike needed no further bidding - he let loose a jet of piss which splattered all across Liz's glasses and into her neat blonde hair, making her flinch back, before he managed to gain control of the flow and directed it straight into Liz's open mouth. Her mouth filled almost instantly with his hot, brackish urine, and as she gulped to take it into her stomach her lips closed and more piss fountained over her chin and down onto her pristine white satin blouse. She forced herself to open her mouth again, and Mike gave her another couple of mouthfulls which Liz bravely managed to swallow, before he amused himself with directing his jet of hot piss all over her breasts and shoulders. Piss saturated the white material, making it transparent, and it quickly became apparent that she had not worn a bra tonight as her red little nipples pushed hard against the thin wet fabric. Piss pooled at her waist, rain over her legs, and the front of her thin white skirt and white stockings soon received the same treatment. By the time that Mike finished, Liz was covered in both his and her piss, and the foolhardy bravery of wearing white had become apparent as she looked almost naked in the dim light of the alleyway.

Liz stood up unsteadily, and took her own glass of beer from the tray that Mike had laid down at the entrance to the alleyway, gulping at it gratefully. A few yards away, Clive was grunting as he fucked Sam's throat, too drunk and far gone to care much about her own discomfort as he spasmed in orgasm, his hands clamped around her hair, thick wads of hot spunk pumping straight down her neck and into her stomach.

Liz looked at Kate, who was still disgustedly finishing her pint glass of male urine.

"I don't think we're in a fit state to carry on with the pub crawl," Liz said out loud. Kate and Sam looked slightly forlornly at her, but both nodded in agreement. "Looks like I won, then, "Liz said, triumphant in spite of her dripping wet outfit. "Again!" There was a groan from Kate and Sam at this.

"It's still quite a walk to my flat," Sam said.

"My place is just a couple of blocks," Clive suggested eagerly. The girls looked at each other. They were well aware that although Clive had come in Sam's mouth, the other two were still straining at their jeans.

"Allright then," Sam agreed. "Lead on."