My Pee ProblembyPelios©
Note: This is the second of a series of stories that I have been writing where I am getting the stories from fans. The names have been changed of course, and she chose Beth as her nome de plume. I found Beth's story moving and interesting, as well as erotic, so I commenced the vampiric task of sucking details and emotional reactions from her. She was very cooperative though, and I hope you are pleased with our results.
I was about 10 when the problem started. To put it simply, I had trouble holding back my pee on certain occasions like laughing too hard, coughing hard, or sneezing. My mom took me to a doctor who wasn't too concerned and said it was just a developmental phase. That was easy for him to say. It wasn't him having to suffer the humiliation of peeing on himself, being inconvenienced about the need to change clothes when I was at school and didn't have any with me, or worst of all, when other kids made fun of me. The jerk!
By the time I was thirteen, the problem hadn't gone away, and to make matters worse, I was developing an interest in sex. This was a bad thing because a prerequisite to sex is having some sort of a social life, and I had none. It was not so much that I was shunned; after all I had learned to compensate. I carried spare panties and jeans in my backpack, urinated as often as possible to relieve pressure, and avoided laughing and sneezing and coughing, at least as much as I could.
Having a naturally good sense of humor was just one more cross I had to bear. Life ground on relentlessly for two more years.
So at fifteen, while I wasn't shunned exactly, I had withdrawn a lot. I was quiet and didn't have any friends and minded my own business. This was made a little more difficult by who I was. It would have been easier if I had been homely, skinny or covered with pimples or something, but I wasn't. I'm Beth and I'm beautiful.
I have naturally blond hair - Nordic blond specifically. I am slightly above average height. My face with high cheek bones, bright blue eyes, full lips and a prettily rounded chin is so attractive that I get double-takes from boys and girls, and even men and women.
Worse, I had a really sexy body. My breasts are between medium and large, very firm and slightly up-thrust. My waist narrows almost like a cartoon, and I have very shapely legs with muscular calves and long, tapered muscular thighs. My feet are even small. And if anyone had ever been there to see it, I actually have blond pubic hair.
So girls tried to befriend me - and I had to gently but politely put them off. Boys tried to be friendly and were much more persistent than girls, but I put them off, too, knowing that if I let anyone get close to me, I would just be hurt more when they rejected me as a pervert or whatever a person is who can't control their pee.
I decided to see another doctor, and told him everything. He told me that part of my problems were psychological, brought on by condemnations that I hadn't even actually received which was immature of me. I knew he was right about that, but wrong in that I was pretty sure the condemnations would follow.
He examined me to a degree that I felt should have been preceded by an engagement ring. Then he tells me that my problem was also partly due to a slight malformation of the muscles that open and close the urethra, the tube that empties urine from the bladder. He thought it was a hereditary weakness that might be corrected by something he called Kegel's exercise therapy, and would probably be eventually corrected by my maturation process anyway.
Kegel's exercise therapy are exercises where I bear down, then relax, then repeat. I was to practice this several times a day, but not in the shower or on the toilet, as this may lead to associations that might further complicate my condition. So I began my exercises like religion, and slowly over time, I got better. Keep in mind that I still avoided even thinking about sex, and no matter how much the topic lured me, and believe me it did, I didn't so much as masturbate - this turned out to be an error, by the way.
So I was eighteen and in my senior year of high school and for over a year I hadn't involuntarily peed even once. I pronounced myself cured and decided that now was the time to start living my life. I started making friends with girls and flirting with boys and soon I had several girlfriends and a steady boyfriend named Dwayne.
Dwayne was nice and a true gentleman, but he was a boy and occasional kissing had become regular kissing, which had become petting outside the clothes while kissing by the fourth date. I was actually pretty anxious to have sex. I'd heard so much about it, and then there were all the sly references to it on television and in the movies - not to mention fairly graphic scenes in some movies. So, I bought a rubber and kept it in my purse for the day when things went that far.
Finally, one night when we had been parking and petting and it was like the third date I'd let his hand in my pants - which never did for me what it was supposed to for some reason - but I figured Dwayne wasn't that good at it, but I was ready.
It was going to have to be the front seat of his car, and we worked it out that the best way was for me to be on top with Dwayne in the passenger seat. So he got out of the car and came around; I got out and waited patiently while he struggled with the rubber. Then when he was ready, I slipped my panties off and got in straddling him.
Meanwhile he'd gone soft (it was his first time too), so I used my hand on him and he got hard pretty quick. He had a rather magnificent dick, I thought as I settled on it. It met a little resistance then I was all the way down with him in me. I was all the way down and I liked the feel of it in me a lot really, and I merrily bounced away actually doing a pretty good job of it, not realizing yet how much I was bleeding.
He realized it first - that something was wrong and began reaching between us to feel why his balls felt so warm. His feeling around was rubbing my clit in just the right way and in a matter of have a dozen strokes, he was coming and so was I - my first orgasm. Although I had only felt a little pain, my hymen mourned its passing with a surprising amount of blood, and to make matters worse I released my bladder.
Of course, I had gone to the bathroom before the date but we didn't have sex until a couple of hours into it. I was so swept away by my first orgasm, that I didn't even know what was happening. I was in bliss. Then he was shaking me, and yelling, "What the Hell are you doing? You stupid bitch!" Which as one might surmise, rather brought me back to earth less than pleasantly. When I realized what I had done to his lap, his pants and worst of all, to his upholstery, I was totally horrified. His abusive language didn't help.
Needless to say that was my last date with Dwayne, and indeed my last date with a boy. My confidence so slowly and hard-won had deserted me. I resented Dwayne a little, but mostly I felt guilty. He eventually tried calling me, regretting his stupid attitude at the time. But I just couldn't deal with it anymore. I was off to see the doctor again, and this time a gynecologist, a female gynecologist.
Dr. Gustavsen was of Nordic extraction like I was, unmarried, or at least sans wedding ring, and in her middle-thirties. She was as tall as me and had red hair and freckles. She was a fairly good-looking woman, too, but none of this helped a whole lot when I mounted the stirrups. Or maybe it did help, and would have been much worse if we hadn't had a few common grounds. I was totally truthful with her in all details, giving her my medical history and the horror of recent events. She examined me more thoroughly than the last doctor had, and I guarantee I had no secrets from her.
These doctors must all drink at the same bar or something because I sure got the same song. My problems were partly psychological, partly due to my naivete, and partly due to an actual physical problem. I got a little angry and said, "Look, I pay doctor's to help and it doesn't help to say I am naive or crazy. At least cut the double talk and tell me straight out what's wrong with me?"
For a moment she just looked at me like she was going to be angry. She was a redhead with perhaps a redhead's temper with a pretty but stern face. I thought her horn rim glasses made her look even more severe. Suddenly her features thawed somewhat. "First, girls usually learn about sex from masturbation. Have you ever done this?"
"No!" I was a little horrified at her frankness, "Listen, I've always had problems with my genitals, I wasn't about to treat them like a toy and maybe make things worse!"
"It is not a toy entirely," she sighed, "but it is definitely also a toy, a toy to be played with now and then, if for no other reason than to relieve sexual frustration. It can be very pleasurable as well and is widely considered a normal behavior."
"You're kidding!" I couldn't believe she was saying these things to me, "Are you telling me that you masturbate?"
She went back to stern face, "Now listen, young lady! I am not a sex therapist; I'm a gynecologist. I am only telling you these things because you accused all the doctors in the world of malpractice, and now when I felt sorry for you and tell you the truth, you turn on me and ask rude questions. My sex life isn't at issue here. Do you want me to go on or not?"
I sighed, "I'm sorry, Doctor. Do please go on." It seemed like she could cut me a little slack for hysteria just for being in this saddle and stirrups.
She sniffed and continued, "If you had played with your self like most little girls, you would have long since gotten rid of most of your hymen and would not have bled so much, thus embarrassing you. Further, if you had some history of masturbation, you would have long since realized the fact that your bladder control was not as good as you thought it was. Yes, you can control it with a sneeze now, but a woman has all sorts of muscular contractions during an orgasm, and you hadn't a clue what to expect. As for the young man reacting so badly - if you knew more about young men, you might have known that they are even more immature than you've been."
"So I have to practice masturbation, keep up my Kegel's exercise therapy and work on control of my bladder during orgasm?"
"All that and more I think. You should learn to forgive yourself for not being perfect in all ways, and you should learn to forgive others for their lack of understanding. Withdrawing from society was a mistake which has left you somewhat socially under-developed."
"Doctor please don't get mad at what I'm going to ask next, okay?" She gave me a skeptical look but wouldn't answer, so I plunged ahead, "Do you think you could masturbate me to show me how it's done?"
She looked alternately angry, then embarrassed then a little worn out. Still red in the face a little, she recovered enough to say, "Once again, I am not a sex therapist. Touching a patient sexually would ruin my career and I would be drummed out of the profession on a rail. There might even be legal charges against me. Given all that, do you think it's fair to ask such a thing of me?"
"I'm sorry," I did really feel bad about it in that I didn't realize that I could get her into trouble. "But it was a sincere question if that makes you feel any better. And I wouldn't have asked if you weren't an attractive lady that would be understanding about my incontinence." I was actually kind of proud of that last word - I had found it on the Internet.
To my surprise, she turned a little pink again, "Have you had feelings about other girls before now?"
I hadn't even thought about it like that. I had just thought she would be understanding and sympathetic because she was a fellow woman. It hadn't occurred to me that an unmarried woman might be a lesbian, and that a woman who made it her profession to look at female genitals all day, might like female genitals very much. It also hadn't occurred to me that I was a very attractive young woman with her legs spread wide for a woman who might be enjoying the view quite a bit. But surely not! But what if she was? No matter what, I had to think my answer through to this question.
"Well of course many girls are very attractive," I began cautiously, "And you not only have a pretty face but apparently a nice figure." Which may have been true, not that I could really tell with the way she was wearing a smock. If she was a lesbian, she would have to be a closet lesbian - heterosexual women would be more distrustful of her than a male gynecologist. My brain raced. I really did want some help sexually, and could my parents afford a sex therapist - and would they let me go to one if they could?
I shrugged with genuine innocence, "Besides it seems to me that you would be much more of an expert on female things than a sex therapist. Perhaps I could meet you at your house? Honestly doctor, I am willing to pay for your time and expertise. I just need a little understanding help." That was the best I could do. If she was really into women, she must be lonely and might go for it - I was completely sincere about needing the help from an understanding heart, although I would admit that at the moment what sex the helper was didn't really matter to me at all.
She gave me a really long and penetrating look that stretched on for an extended time. Then I saw her glance between my legs and turn away. She got a piece of paper and wrote something on it. Then she stepped over and put it in my hand. "Come by tonight, and I will try to be of some help, say about eight o'clock. For the love of mercy, Beth, never tell anyone of this. Can I trust you?" I swore to her that she could and I meant it.
I was a little nervous knocking on Dr. Gustavsen's front door that evening. I had honestly never thought about sex with another woman before, but I as sincere as my other reasons had been, I had misled her a little about that. But at the same time, I wasn't disinterested in sex with women, either. I felt my concerns were graver than what sex my partner was.
She answered the door wearing a dress that was not so much a business dress as a day dress, but almost a business suit. It was a little higher than knee-length and sure enough she really did have a good figure and shapely legs. Her breasts seemed a little smaller than my c cups, and she was wearing her hair down to her shoulders, not up in a bun like at the office. She also wasn't wearing those heavy-framed black horn rims that she had worn at the office. In fact she looked beautiful. Her dress was a green that contrasted nicely with her hair, and her smile was friendly and warm. She evidently didn't smile at the office either.
So I followed the dazzling creature inside and she led me into her living room. She asked me if I would join her in a glass of wine, and I accepted. A large sheet of plastic like the sort painter's use had been spread on the floor, and there was an armless chair in the center of it. She had another dining chair set up a few feet away. I understood and chose to sit in the chair in the middle of the plastic before she could wave me there. The chair was plastic as well although more of a vinyl and actually quite comfortable.
"First of all, you need to stop calling me Dr. Gustavsen. I will no longer be treating you as a patient in fact. You are here as a friend who has asked me for a favor. Is that clear, Beth?" I really had to admire her freckled legs which I could see quite well as she was only a few feet away. The freckles made her seem warmer to me, and the way her calves flattened wide at the front of her chair made her seem very sexy to me.
"That is perfectly clear. So what do I call you?"
"By my name of course. I'm Erma." She really had lovely dimples when she smiled and perfect white even teeth. I noticed her looking at my legs with some interest, as well she might, like I said earlier, they are really great legs, and I was wearing a moderately short sun dress which left much of my legs exposed. "I was glad you noticed the plastic. I didn't want you to be offended, but we do have to be practical until we have solved your problem."
"Problems," I corrected her, "and I do understand and approve. At home my experiments would be restricted to the shower and too much time in there would make my mother suspicious. She knows about the bladder problems, but not the sexual side. So how do we proceed, Erma?"
She cleared her throat, "First of all, take your time with the wine, and lets just talk awhile. I think you will have more control of your body if you feel calm and relaxed. We do want to feel intimate towards each other as well, which will make your sexual arousal more comfortable and natural. And finally before we get to it, you will need to remove your dress and your shoes, and of course your panties. As for myself, I have a bikini bathing suit I could wear, or if you would prefer, I could wear nothing if that would make you feel less self-conscious."
"There's no sense in your having to wash a bathing suit, Erma, so naked would be best. I don't know what will happen exactly, as I will be consciously trying to restrain myself from peeing on you. But perhaps you could stand to the side or something?"
"Um, I'll tell you what, Beth. At least for the intimate conversation phase of this," She licked her lips nervously, "Why don't we sit on the couch and talk where we can be more comfortable. We can always take our stations, later."
I shrugged, why not? We sat side by side on the couch but angled so we were at least semi facing each other with my knee almost touching hers. "Thanks again, Erma, for helping me with this. I know how crazy it seems, and you have to have a really generous heart to do this for me."
She turned a little pink and looked down at her half empty glass and took a sip. "I have to be honest with you about that Beth. I have never had a lover, so we share the lack of experience in that regard, in fact you have more experience than me with regard to having sex with a lover. But masturbation is another thing entirely. My entire sex life has been masturbation except when I was a teenager. I did have a girlfriend when I was fifteen, and we did some kissing and petting, but nothing further than that. Once I was in high school and college, I was too ambition driven to have any time or inclination about sex."
Her green eyes searched my baby blues, "You haven't really had any previous interest in girls, have you, Beth?"
"No," I sighed. Now that she had bared her soul, I couldn't deceive her further. "But my request for you to masturbate me, train me in how to do it, and help me with my pee problem is all as sincere as can be, Erma. And while I am being honest, I would like to add that since meeting you, I am starting to develop a sexual interest in women. I think you are gorgeous, sexy, and sweet. But no, I've never even kissed another girl." I noticed that Erma's knee was definitely touching mine by now, and I didn't think I had moved.
"After medical school, I became a gynecologist and since my natural inclination, I suspect, would be to have a female lover, I had well, trapped myself outside of a love life. Do you understand why?"
"Yes," I answered soberly, "Maybe you should go back to school enough to move into another field?"
She grinned, "I've actually been planning that. It was one of the reasons I agreed to see you. Still another reason that I agreed, is that I am not at all repulsed by your bladder problem, in fact I would actually find it sexually thrilling to have you pee on me. So, while I am anxious to help you with your problem, your problem itself doesn't bother me in the least. I hope that doesn't alarm you."