Wet Kitty

Bethany had always had a little problem with managing the toilet. At 22, petite, with red hair and a slim figure, she was no closer to being potty-trained than when she had been a little girl. And it wasn't that she was stupid: no. She could have learnt to control her bladder at any time she wanted, But where would the fun in that be? Where was the fun in using the porcelain potty for peeing in, like a boring person? Life was far, far more exciting with an element of unpredictability: you never knew when the urge was going to strike – in the cinema, in the car, at work, in the kitchen – or even sitting in her boyfriend's lap! No, Bethany was just fine, thank you, and liked her life exactly the way it was.

So imagine her shock the day she came home to find her boyfriend waiting for her behind the front door. He was standing tall, all six foot two of him, and he looked absolutely gorgeous. She felt a little wetness form between her legs. But what was this? He looked so... stern. She cocked her head at him, and smiled her most winning smile:

'What is it, sweetheart?'

He didn't smile back at her. Instead he said: 'On your knees, Beth.'

She looked around. There was nothing soft to kneel on except the small blue doormat. She knelt down. Her pretty dress was going to get so rumpled sitting like this. It settled over the backs of her bare legs, and she could feel the cold air of the hallways against her little cotton knickers. She did hope this wasn't going to take long... she was beginning to feel the stirrings of her bladder. She'd had three cups of tea at work, and forgotten to go to the loo before driving home. Silly girl. It was catching up with her now, though, but she didn't dare wriggle under his fierce gaze.

'You've had one too many accidents around here recently, young lady.'

She wondered which ones he was referring to... she'd woken up in the night two nights ago, her bladder swollen and heavy. She'd wanted to wet herself in bed. She'd wanted to soak the cotton, feel a puddle under her bottom... but her boyfriend had an important meeting the next day. She hadn't wanted to wake him in case he was cross instead of turned on.

Instead, she had slipped out of the bed and had slid the bottom drawer of the chest of drawers open. It was full of her boyfriend's underwear, all neatly folded and arranged by colour. It was so pretty!

She had squatted beside it, feeling he weight of her urgency pushing down, sending tingles of arousal up her spine. She wanted to mess up his drawer. She wanted to mess that drawer up so badly! She wanted to wet herself, piss her knickers sitting in the drawer, rubbing her soaking wet crotch over all his nice clean things! S

he slipped the drawer loose from the chest, and positioned it on the carpet. Straddling it, she had lowered her crotch right in so that her little pussy was up tight against the clean cotton. She slipped one hand down into the front of her knickers. God she was wet. Her fingers slid through her thick arousal, and she could feel her clit throbbing. She was panting with excitement, breath coming fast and shallow. God she felt naughty, pissing her little knickers in the middle of the night, all over his nice clean clothes.

She rubbed one finger over her little pee-hole, teasing herself, and then – suddenly- it came. God, she had been desperate. And there it was, a hot river, spilling over her finger and into her thin cotton knickers. The heat of it, and the naughtiness, were extraordinary, made her grind forward against a pile of his pants.

Oh, god, the stream was hard. She couldn't stop – not even if she'd wanted to, releasing a hissing stream that soaked her knickers instantly and flowed out, all over his pants. She was ruining them, utterly soaking them with her stream, pissing all over them as if the didn't know any better.

She had rubbed up hard against them, fucking herself against the sodden cotton. There was a thin stream of pee still running out from her knickers, and when she came, she pushed down hard enough to let the last of it out in a forceful spurt. She came so hard she saw stars, and then crawled back into bed, leaving her wet knickers in the drawer, and drying off her little damp pussy against the sheets.

Perhaps that was what he had meant? He had been very cross. She felt her tummy go hot and fizzy at the memory of it.

He went on: 'the only way to teach you a lesson is by regulating where you pee.'

No. She thought. Not toilets. Not boring, impersonal bathrooms? She wouldn't do it.

He must have seen her crestfallen expression, because he bent toward her, lifting her chin up with his finger.

'Now, Bethie, when would I ever do anything horrid to you? This is a nice thing!'

Then, from behind his back, he pulled out a little sparkly... necklace? No, it wasn't. It was soft and round and...

It was a kitty collar.

She smiled up at him. He was going to...? No, she couldn't work it out.

'See, Bethie? You're going to be my little kitty, if you want to be. And you know where little kitties do their naughty business, don't you?'

She shook her head. She had no idea – outside? No, he surely wasn't going to make her go outside every single time... she had to go pee so often!

'Well, sweetheart, they do their naughty business in.... let me show you.'

He took her by the hand and made her crawl down the hallway, into the living room. The crawling made her bladder wobble, made her whimper in desperation, but he didn't acknowledge it. Instead, he pushed open the living room door and showed her...

It was a kitty litter box. A blue, shallow box, large enough for her to go on all fours, filled up with grey cat litter. Beside it, stacked up, were four or five others – enough, she worked out, for nearly every room in the house.

'Oh, Ian', she breathed. They were so perfect. Naughty, and public, and humiliating, but just for her, and provided with love, and the perfect answer to her need to let herself go wherever she was.

'I love you so, so much'. She felt totally overwhelmed, as if she was about to cry – as if she was about to wet herself.

He came toward her and she pressed up against him. From her kneeling position her head was level with his cock. When she rubbed her face against him, too overwhelmed to speak, she realized; he was rock hard, throbbing in his pants.

He held the back of her head, letting little wet tears prick through the material of his trousers so that he could feel the salty wetness against the tip of his cock. With his other hand, he gentle moved her long red hair so he could slip the collar round her neck, adjusting it loosely into place. He stepped back to get a look at her.

Beth looked exquisite: tear-stained but smiling, naughty but vulnerable looking, totally overwhelmed by his gift. She was also... squirming?

'Beth, baby, does someone need to use their new little litter tray?'

She paused, as if thinking about it, bunching her dress in her hands. Then she looked at him, and nodded.

'I want to go pee-pee', she said.

He smiled. He was used to it, the way big-girl language often seemed to leave her when she was desperate.

'Would you like to use your new pee-pee place?'

She smiled and nodded, her cheeks pinking in embarrassment. He felt his cock twitch. He couldn't wait to see her kneel over it, make the litter wet and filthy with her piss.

She pulled her dress up and crawled toward the litter tray. He was expecting her to crawl onto it, to kneel on all fours and pull down her knickers, but she didn't. Instead, she kept her pink lacy knickers on, and plonked her bottom down in the middle of the tray, splaying her legs out in a 'v', bunching her dress up out of the way.

She was facing him, eyes big and wide, showing him her pink pussy beneath the lacy knickers.

'I'm going to go wee-wee', she breathed. 'I'm going to wet myself like a little kitty, and make a big sticky puddle.'

He was palming his cock through his jeans, desperate to take it out and stroke himself, but knowing he wanted to wait until he could sink it into her.

'Do you feel naughty, baby, all exposed like that? All naked and bare and about to go in your knickers?'

She bit her lower lip and blushed brilliant red.

'Oh', she squirmed. 'Its coming, please, its running down into my pee-place, I am going to go in my kitty-potty.'

And then he saw it. The pee suddenly started its glossy trickle out of her, hissing and spilling through the lacy knickers, soaking the gusset until they were see-through.

Then, obscenely, the stream hit the kitty litter. It pooled on the top for a second, creating a puddle that spread from her pussy to her knees, and then suddenly, it started to soak in. The grey littler grew dark and soft.

'I'm making a pee-pee cushion!' she said, happily, rubbing up and down her soaking knickers.

He couldn't bare it any longer. Suddenly he stood, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them round his knees. His cock was rock hard, red and weeping. Bethie looked at it, smiling, her fingers rubbing faster through her stream of pee.

'Little kitty', he said to her. 'On your hands and knees, now.'

'In my litter tray?' She asked,. 'That's naughty.'

'Yes', he said. 'Go on, I'm going to put my big cock inside your little pussy, kitty, whilst you wet yourself into your tray.'

She let out a little mewling noise and knelt. As she moved, she dirtied the hem of her pretty dress with drips of pee.

Coming up behind her, he slipped her dress up over her bottom, until his face was close to her lacy knickers. They smelt divine, of her naughty piss, and he ran his finger over them, to make her squirm. Then, he shoved them out of the way, exposing her pretty, dripping pussy, sparkly with pee.

'Kitty, do you have any more pee-pee left?' He asked.

'Yes, I still want to go, so badly' she panted, pushing her little naked cunt toward him.

He guided himself into her in one, long stroke. She felt exquisite, the wet heat enveloping him.

'Keep going, Bethie. Let your piss run down your legs into your tray like a good girl, whilst I fuck you.'

'Oh, god', she said as he started to move: long, deep strokes inside her. 'Oh, my pee-pee feels so hot running down my legs, and you feel so big, oh, please, please.'

He fucked her harder, looking down at her piss bouncing off the kitty litter, at her knees all grubby with it. He knew he wasn't going to last and with one final stroke, he emptied his balls deep inside her, filling her up with cum. It made her squeal, the heat and force of it, and it made her pee spray everywhere.

When he pulled out, he looked at his filthy little kitty, piss and cum running down her thights. 'Would you like to cum, princess?'

She nodded, still kneeling in the litter tray. He eased her out until she was lying on the living room carpet.

'Good kitty', he whispered, lying close to her, reaching under her knickers to find her swollen clit. 'You can finish your pee-pee on the carpet if you want to. I know how much you like that. You've been so good.'

As he touched her, she started to piss again, legs open, wild abandon, letting her stream dirty the cream carpet.

'You're a dirty kitty, aren't you?'. he whispered sweetly to her as he touched her, 'all slippery with your own pee-pee, and my filthy cum in your hole. You know what I think?' She shook her head, her whole body taut and close to orgasm.

'I think next time, sweetie, I might let you do... everything in your little litter tray.'

She looked at him, wild-eyed as if she hadn't understood.

'That's right, Bethie. Would you like that? Would you like to squat over your litter tray in front of me, and...' He bent down to whisper close to her ear, 'would you like to squeeze down as hard as you could, and open up your dirtiest hole, and....shit in it for me, darling?'

As he said it, he felt her cum under him, long and hard and desperate. She was shaking and filthy, her whole body spasming with the filthiness of it.

He looked at her, soiled and spent on the floor. This was going to be very, very good fun.

[To be continued....]