I had been at the party for two hours, enjoying the crowded atmosphere, enjoying the dark lighting and the unintellible hum of half-drunken conversation over loud music. I slumped down on the sofa; really, I tried to remind myself -- noting how long my breath was in returning -- I ought to stop kidding myself that I look other than ridiculous dancing those energetic dances in my crazy, uncoordinated way. Once, I had been at a night-club and had seen my self-conscious form in a mirror next to the dance-floor, jerking to unfamiliar, teenage music. I had stopped dancing in public for a long time after that.

I looked up at those still dancing. Do they look any more silly? I asked myself. No, probably not. The music finished, and something more relaxing began to play. Some of those dancing carried on, most trying to adjust to the change in tempo and a few too drunk to notice or adapt to the change. The rest moved off to rejoin conversations or to fetch more drinks, to be ready for the next dance.

A group of girls who had been dancing particularly wildly hovered, aparantly contemplating whether to go for it again. One of them laughed to her friends and, after going away to get a drink, came back and sat down next to me on the sofa. I was pleased about this; I had noticed her earlier, and found her especially attractive. Now that she was sitting next to me, recovering from the dancing, I had an opportunity to steal some more glances at her. She was, I guessed, in her late twenties or early thirties; she was very chubby, and her flesh pressed against her thin tee-shirt in a way which made me want to touch her. Her long, black hair, which had been tidy before the dancing, now flowed, disordered and sensual. She leant forward, and crossed her legs under a very short, black mini skirt.

We soon got talking, and I found she was called Lisa. We shared some jokes -- about the people at the party, about the dancing, and about the drinks. To my delight she stayed sitting next to me while she finished her drink. As we talked, she kept her legs crossed, and I hoped she didn't notice me glancing at her thighs. I went to fetch us some more drinks. When I returned to where we had been sitting, though, some more people were sitting on the sofa next to Lisa, and there was no space. Disappointed, and not sure what to do, I put my drink down on a small table, and told Lisa I was back with her drink. She looked up, and said "oh, Phil ... you'll have to squeeze in next to me." This was music to my ears, and I happily sat close to Lisa as the others moved up to try to make space. I noticed her perfume, and felt a hot wave of desire for her. I looked at her just as she was looking at me, and for a long moment our eyes were locked while we wondered what to say. We laughed at this small crisis, and she looked down. I felt relieved, but dearly wanted it to happen again.

Somebody else was trying to sit on the opposite end of the sofa, now, causing me to squash still closer to Lisa. She crossed her legs again, trying to re-adjust her position, and her panties showed briefly under her skirt. I felt myself getting aroused, and tried not to look; when I looked up at Lisa, though, our eyes locked again. She smiled. I wondered whether she had noticed me looking at her panties. "Sorry about that," she whispered to me, "I don't normally wear such short skirts." Trying not to blush, I asked her whether she wanted to dance. "Yeah, come on," she said, and as we clambered up from the sofa, our hands touched.

The music was still sedate, and a slow, romantic record was just beginning. For a little while, we dance with my hands lightly resting on her back, but she was irresistable and soon I could not help but hold her close. The dance was like heaven for me. I wanted to keep holding Lisa to me, but soon the record was finished and I feared she would want to stop. I kept my arms round her while the new record was starting. "I enjoyed that, Lisa," I said, smiling, hoping she would want to continue.

She smiled back. "Me too, Phil. I'd better find a ladies, now, though ... I'm bursting."

This, as any of you who know me will anticipate, excited me somewhat, and I felt emboldened to keep her with me. "Oh, come on ... let's have another dance first." As encouragement, I smiled again and kept my hand on her back, stroking it slowly as if to draw her back into the dance.

She hesitated, and moved closer to me again. "Ok, Phil. But I'll have to go pretty soon." The second dance was even better than the first. We flirted mildly, Lisa reprimanding herself for wearing such a short skirt, and occasionally reminding me in little hushed whispers that she needed the bathroom, and me telling her in turn how glad I was that she was wearing it, and jokingly telling her she'll have to wait until the end of the dance before she can go to the bathroom. Towards the end, she rested her head on my shoulder as I hugged her, and whispered that she was going to have to go to the bathroom now, otherwise she would have a mishap in her knickers. I released her, and told her not to disappear because I was enjoying myself with her. She smiled and said she would be back soon.

I returned to the sofa again, now somewhat flushed and feeling very happy. Lisa was absolutely gorgeous. I finished my half-drunk drink, and noticed that Lisa's was already finished: I was astonished; she must have been extremely thirsty to drink it so quickly before we began our dance. Minutes went by. I hoped Lisa would get back soon, and sit next to me again. I thought about our dance, replaying our flirty conversation, imagining what it would have been like if she had had a "mishap" in her knickers before it had finished. She had wriggled playfully each time she mentioned her need for the bathroom, and, in response, I had reached down briefly to stroke and tickle her bottom.

The minutes turned into half an hour. I waited, remembering how long the queues for the bathroom were. When half an hour became an hour, I guessed that my dream had gone away, but I resolved to see if I could find Lisa before giving up all hope and going home. I went to where the bathrooms were to see whether Lisa was still queuing. She was not there. Someone emerged from the bathroom -- not Lisa. I was now feeling very dejected. What had happened?

I went into an ajoining corridor, and there, standing alone, was Lisa. I was unable to keep the extreme pleasure out of my voice. "Oh, hi Lisa!" I said, beaming. "I wondered what happened to you!" She seemed anxious and was standing awkwardly. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Well, you know I said I needed the bathroom?"

"Yes ... what's the problem?"

"Well, I still do."

I thought about it. Lisa was fidgeting about from foot to foot, clearly very desperate to use the bathroom. "I think there's a ladies bathroom just round here. Couldn't you find it?"

"Yes, I found it ... but there's a massive queue and they won't let me in. Phil, I've been waiting ages; I don't know what to do."

"I'm sure you'll be able to get in soon."

"But I need to *go*, and I can't wait much longer."

I now regretted that I was wearing my tight leather jeans; I was very turned on by what I was hearing and seeing, and I knew my growing erection was clearly visible. I tried to adjust my position to make it less obvious, without very much success; the attempt probably only made it look as if I was bursting to pee, too! Lisa crossed her legs and bit her lip. I was entranced; it was like a fantasy coming true. "Is it really that urgent?" I asked, mentally kicking myself for failing to keep the desire out of my voice.

"Yes," Lisa replied, squeezing and unsqueezing her legs together. "Oh Phil, it's an emergency. I'm nearly having an accident in my knickers!" As if to underline the point, she pressed her hand against her crotch, momentarily pushing her skirt up. I was feeling dizzy with excitement. Her pretty white knickers were showing under her skirt, and she was pressing them, and by the way she was standing she was quite obviously close to pissing them.

"I'm sorry," she said, flapping her skirt down as far as possible, while still holding herself. "I know my knickers are showing. I can't help it ... I'm almost weeing."

"Listen, Lisa, why don't we go to my house. It's only a few minutes from here, and you can use my bathroom."

She looked relieved. "Oh, thanks, that would be great. Are you sure you don't mind?"

I assured her it was no problem, and that I really wanted to help, especially if it was such an emergency. On the way out of the building, she groaned, and said that it certainly was an emergency. "I just hope I can make it to your place," she said. We walked along the high street towards my house, Lisa trying not to hold herself while anyone was looking. We reached a crossroads, and waited for the traffic to stop so we could cross.

Lisa was jogging on the spot. "Oh God, I hope it's not far."

"Only a few more minutes. Are you ok? You look as though you've got ants in your pants!"

"That's not all I'm going to have in my pants."

The traffic stopped, and we crossed. I told her we were on the last bit of road before we reached my house. Lisa suddenly stopped and bent one leg against the other.

"Oh God," she said. "I'm not going to be able to hold it. I don't know what you must think of me -- not only do I wear a ridiculous mini skirt that I'm too big for, but now I'm also about to go to the toilet in my pants like a little girl!" I wanted to tell her that I had always been especially attracted to chubby girls, and also had a major panty-wetting fetish, and that seeing her in her little mini skirt and nearly peeing her knickers was giving me a hard-on, rather than disgusting me. I decided against it, though, and instead said, "Lisa, I'm glad you're with me, and ... I think you look very pretty."

We reached my door, and I reached for my keys. My pocket, however, was recluctant to yield them; my leather jeans had been tight enough when we left the party, but now the additional pressure of my erection was stretching them further. In my mind, I briefly imagined Lisa hugging herself against me, and burrowing her hand into my jeans to help me free my keys. I imagined, further, that I would surely then give up the attempt, and that I would pull her to me, and kiss her passionately as her knickers filled with pee and the stream ran down her legs from under her skirt. I tried to dismiss these thoughts. They were making my hands shake and my effort to retrieve my keys still more clumsy.

Lisa came a little closer to see what was happening. Her legs were clasped together like two fleshy lovers in their embrace. Thoughts flashed, uninvited, into my mind: images of accidents I had seen as a child at school; images of Lisa as a schoolgirl, standing outside the girls' bathroom, pissing her knickers between lessons. I briefly remembered the first time I had made love, and that alien sensation of being swept into a different world which had been so unexpected. I felt certain that Lisa could smell my sweat, and I felt almost as certain -- no, just as certain! -- that not only could she see the thoughts I was now seeing, but that it was she who was implanting them in me, each tiny shudder of her legs designed to make me recall a memory of lust, and each brief tug at her skirt designed to make me relive that unbid memory.

My keys popped out of my pocket, and fell, landing on the stone doorstep with a metallic jangle, one of the keys lying separated from the others. We both bent down to reach them, but Lisa was slightly quicker and I mistakenly clasped her hand instead of the keys. She giggled, and let me hold it for an extra second, while I imagined keeping it in mine until she peed her knickers on the doorstep. We straightened up, though, and Lisa noticed the separated key. She bent down again to get it, and her short skirt flipped up to show a pair of white flowered knickers. They were already getting wet. Lisa gave herself a feel and looked round at me too quickly for me to pretend I wasn't looking up her skirt. As I flushed with embarassment and desire, she pulled the back of her skirt down to cover her knickers, giving me another quick look, and stood up to give me the key.

I pushed the key into the door. Lisa was squashed against the door, pressing to get inside before it was open. "Oh hurry, Phil," she said, her breath hot and urgent in my ear. "I can't hold on -- my knickers are wet." We got indoors, and Lisa pushed both hands under her skirt, pushing past and trampling over some envelopes on the mat. I turned my eyes towards the stairs, indicating the bathroom, but as she hobbled away she gasped back to me, "I'm not going to make it."

I followed her, and at the foot of the stairs she paused and pulled her skirt up to show her knickers. There was now a large wet patch. She kept her skirt held up as we climbed the steps. Lisa was moaning to herself, "I'm going to do it in my knickers ... oh God I'm going to pee myself..." Watching Lisa scramble up the stairs, with her mini skirt held up and the wetness in her pretty, flowered knickers growing helplessly, I felt so weak with excitement that my eyes blurred and I feared I would fall down the stairs.

We reached the top, but before Lisa could run to the bathroom I gently rested my hand on her arm and said quietly, "Lisa..." She stopped and looked at me enquiringly. Almost without thinking, I was stroking her arm. I wanted her. "Lisa," I said again, "wait a moment..." I moved my hand over her arm, and touched her hand. She shivered, and crossed her legs, desperately curtseying. I pulled her closer, and looked into her eyes, squeezing her hand lovingly. I moved my face towards hers, smelt again her rich perfume, ran my hand through her long black hair, and kissed her deeply and strongly. She leant her body against me, wriggling against the bulge in my jeans, breathing in jagged and punctuated gasps. She pulled away slightly, and looked down at her legs. "I'm going to do it," she spluttered. I took her in my arms and kissed her again, wanting to make love to her right there.

She kissed me back, sighing huskilly, and I pulled her with me towards the bathroom, alternately stopping to hold her close and help her walk. Outside the bathroom door, I put my hand on her bare thigh, just below the hem of her skirt. "It's coming out," she blurbed. I budged the door open with my shoulders, and we stumbled into the bathroom. Lisa danced around hopelessly. The tops of her legs were wet. She saw me looking at them and said "I can't help it, it's too late." She crouched down near the floor. Her legs were wide apart. Throbbing with passion for her, I sat down by her and watched as her knickers darkened and began to trickle onto the floor. I put my arm around her. She sunk onto the floor, still peeing herself. I kissed the back of her neck. She shivered and looked down to see it starting to run faster onto the floor. I moved my hands over her body, and she whispered "I'm doing a wee in my knickers." I placed my hands on her breasts, caressing them through her thin tee-shirt. She shivered again and watching the puddle she was making through her skirt. I whispered back to her that she was the most gorgeous girl in the world./