Sara-jane
Copyright© 2025 by SteveB
Chapter 2
Hi. I’m Sara. I’m here to give you the other side of the picture, how I met Steve.
Background first, so you can understand me.
I was an only child, born of parents with good jobs who wanted to see their daughter do well. Perhaps this is where my ‘problem’ started. Both mum and dad constantly pushed me. I never seemed to do well enough for them. My friends were no good, right from my first friend at nursery. None were ever invited home. My schoolwork was never good enough. I seemed to spend my whole life falling below my parents expectations, and I knew they were dissapointed with me.
I know that my parents meant well, and I know that they love me, but all the pressure had a rather bad effect on me. Academically, I did pretty well at school. I enjoyed maths and the sciences, and soaked them up. But I never did more than thn the bare minimum in other subjects. And, of course, I was always alone. I found my pleasures in the library, walking in the country, or gardening, rather than with other people my age.
At the age of 8 I was still wetting the bed frequently (two or three times a week). I enjoyed this as it seemed to upset my parents rather a lot, but they didn’t know what to do about it.
At 10 I had started to occasionally wet while awake. I found the warm, wet feeling quite enchanting. My parents took me to a psychologist. He told them that I would grow out of it as I got older.
I didn’t. By the age of 12 I had discovered the joys of masturbation. Various books in the library had helped me. It didn’t take me long to discover how much better wanking was with a full bladder, and how exciting holding on could be. It helped that this was the only way I could get back at my parents, could rebel against what they wanted.
They still had me down as a night-time bedwetter, and had insisted that I started doing all my own laundry. This suited me. What they didn’t realise was that the bed was normally soaked before I went to sleep, that my knickers were normally wet, and that I only used the toilet for poop.
Even that stopped when I was 14. Lying in bed one morning, feeling relaxed, gently fondling myself, I could feel the urge to poop. I didn’t want to waste my bladderful, when I could use it for a lovely orgasm, so I held it in while wanking. Guess what. When I came, so did my poop. I felt it starting to push out of my anus as my orgasm approached. I couldn’t stop. I didn’t want to. Feeling my mess filling my pyjamas triggered the best orgasm I had ever had.
That was the end of using the toilet for me. I used to go in, wait a few seconds and then flush, to keep my parents happy. But my pee and poop filled my knickers in future.
My parents soon caught me, of course. The first time was when they came home early from some event, and found me on the lawn in the garden, shorts soaking and full of shit while I wanked myself silly. Soon after mum caught me in bed doing exactly the same. Back to the psychologist. Same answer. She’ll grow out of it.
I was becoming rather an exhibitionist now. My body was developing, attracting male attention. I had kept my knicker wetting etc to myself, but I found that I could use it as a tool to embarass my parents, so I did. I started wetting in their company, and not being discreet about it.
I kept this away from school. I was already lonely, I did not want to be pushed further away from people of my own age. Wetting at school happened in secret, in the toilets or on the playing fields.
At 16 I discovered sex with boys. It didn’t last long. By now I always wet when I orgasmed. For some reason, this put all 3 of my boyfriends off, and suddenly my name was mud around the school. Still, I was going to college soon and it didn’t matter what they thought.
I spent 2 years at college, and left with good marks. But my parents had had enough. The day I was 18 I was out of my family home. They did well by me even now. They brought me a small house, furnished it for me, and made sure that I had enough to live on. And then left me alone.
I soon settled in. I christened the whole house in a couple of days. I wet and pooped whenever I felt like it, wherever I was. It was lovely. Freedom.
I met the man next door as I moved in. An older man, bearded. He introduced himself, told me to ask if he could help with anything, and then made himself scarce.
At first I was a little scared of Steve. I used to see him watching me. But I soon realised that he was just lonely, and enjoyed watching me. It helped to bring out the exhibitionist in me even more. I enjoyed giving him a peek of nipple, a flash of (clean) pants. We quite often passed the time of day.
I soon got a job in a night-club, as a barmaid. I flaunted myself. The club had topless barmaid nights, and I used to be there for every one of them. I enjoyed the wet t-shirt nights as well, as I could pee (carefully) on stage, with no-one realising.
At home I had found, through the internet, that others shared my tastes. I had got hold of books, magazines, videos. But how to meet someone? I couldn’t advertise in the local press, and the contact mags seemed rather tacky.
Then came the fateful day.
I had woken that morning feeling wonderful, as normal. A slow wank in bed, change the sheets, clean the house, change into the clothes I would wear for work. Wet the knickers. And then leave for work. I could feel my poop building up. I had plans for that, and the walk home.
At work behind the bar I had fun. A little flirting, the occasional leak into my knickers. I was hot, wet, sticky, randy.
And then the police arrived, talked to the owner, approached me. “You have been burgled. Can you come with us so that we can see what has been taken.”
Everyone was very sympathetic. I had found some good friends in that club, although none of them really knew me. I went with the police. I was scared. What if they had found my secret? The washing hadn’t been done in a while. Oh gawd, I would have to move.
My home was wrecked. Most of my valuables had been taken. The place had been completely trashed. My washing was missing.
Steve approached as the police finished showing me around the house. Asked if he could take me in and give me a cup of coffee, let me use his phone to phone friends etc. The police let me go, as I had given them a rough idea of what had gone.