Introduction

	I sighed and rested my forehead against the car window. The old Nissan shook and rattled over the dirt road, and if I left my head in the same spot long enough, the occasional bumps and taps against the glass along with the ceaseless vibrating made that small area of my forehead numb. The strange sensation helped take my mind off what was to come, off what lied at the end of the dirt road.
	I was going to grandma’s house.
	I was being [i] dragged  [/i]to grandma’s house. The place I’d grown up in. The earliest place I remembered, and my only home until the 7th grade. Except back then it wasn’t just grandma’s house. It was her house, and my house, and mom’s house, but above all, it was [i] grandpa’s house. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I tried to sigh again, but I was all sighed out.
	“Almost there.” My mom said it with little emotion in her voice. The first few times she’d sounded excited, but I’d made a snide comment about how happy she sounded to be getting me out of her hair, and that had shut her up. Well, not shut her up, but it had put an end to the mocking tone.
	“Mom, please.” I begged, lifting my head up off the window to behold the tall, cryptic manor in the distance.
	“I’m sorry, honey.”
	And then there was silence.
	She didn’t even try to argue or to converse or to console anymore. She just said ‘sorry’ and stayed quiet. The silence was worse than getting scolded, worse than the ‘you should have thought about this before getting a slew of detentions.’ It was even worse than the ‘you should have thought about this before [i] skipping  [/i]those detentions.” The silence told me I was defeated.
	“Ugh….” I groaned and placed my head back against the window. I looked out into the endless fields, into the endless, empty, [i] space.  [/i]“What am I supposed to do out here? There is nothing. [i] Nothing,  [/i]anywhere.”
	“You’ll find something to do. If you get bored, you can help your grandmother, and you can always make some friends.”
	I pressed into my eyes with annoyance. The ‘make friends’ things was my least favorite of her recycled responses, even worse than the silence. Unless she wanted to give me some mushrooms and tell me to make friends with the trees then it didn’t look there was any chance of that happening.
	I remembered something, someone, but only for an instant.
	[i] No, that’s impossible,  [/i]I thought with finality. [i] She is probably long gone from this podunk place. And even if she isn't, she’s probably a native. And God knows I’m about as ‘city’ as it gets…. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]The thought faded as soon as it came. A moment later my head lifted again, and I was staring with dread at the house—at grandma’s house.
	[i] Only grandma’s house….  [/i]I thought, sadly. [i] And, I suppose mine too now. For summer break at least. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]It was my last summer break. The one between 11th and 12th.. I was basically an adult now, and legally I was was entirely an adult, but my mom didn’t seem to think so. To her, I was still too immature, still too ‘rebellious.’ To her and to school and to all the students—they never said it, but I could tell by there looks—I was a ‘problem child.’ 
	But I [i] wasn’t  [/i]a problem child. I was… well, I wasn’t a [i] good  [/i]child, per se, but a ‘problem child’ didn’t fit. That label carried implications that didn’t apply to me, even if problems did sometimes follow in my wake. But was I to blame for what followed me?
	It’s not like I ever hurt anybody. At least not physically. Sometimes I hurt my teacher’s with words, and sometimes I got into small altercations with other students, and sure, I’d been in a few fights, but that wasn’t so bad. Everything I did, I did for a reason. Everything I did, I did with purpose, and intent, with [i] morality.  [/i]
	The teacher’s were the ones that didn’t like me. They wanted to control me, they wanted to lord over me and get off on their little power trips, but what gave them the right? In 11th grade, I should be allowed to eat a snack if I am hungry, and I should be able to piss without lifting my hands to ask, and I shouldn’t have to worry about being discriminated against just because I’ve been a pain in the ass before.
	As for the fights, sometimes I just had to defend myself. Some people think they’re better than others. Sometimes they act like pricks and do it in acceptable ways, in ways where [i] you’re  [/i]the unacceptable one if you try to call them out on it. Sometimes they pick on people who don’t deserve it, sometimes they won’t shut up when they really need to shut up, and sometimes they just overreact when you finally tell them to shut up.
	It’s not like I hunted them. It’s not like I [i] wanted  [/i]to fight. Normally I just argued with people, it was just bickering. But sometimes fists got thrown, sometimes people got angry and met me after school. Sometimes I just [i] had  [/i]to do something, because doing what I thought was right in the past put me in situations where I had to do what others thought was wrong in the present.
	But isn’t that… right? Doing what we all think is right? And isn’t it right to argue about what is right, and about what is acceptable? I never tried to control people with my fists. I never initiated fights with people who I knew didn’t have it coming or were having a bad day. But none of that mattered, because I fought, because I didn’t do my homework and because I sometimes slept in class and because I argued with my teachers. None of it mattered because I was a [i] problem.  [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]My mom had threatened me with it many times. She was probably the only person on earth who had managed to weaponize the words ‘grandma’s house.’ But I never thought she’d do it. I never thought I’d actually be sitting in the back of the Nissan as we pulled up to the old, creaking two story, depressingly occupied by one little old lady. But I was hanging out with Terry one day, and he had given me a fistful of shrooms.
	I didn’t think she’d come home from work early. I didn’t think she’d walk in the house and find me with my eyes dilated and my words slurring and my head bobbing around like it had a mind entirely of it’s own. My hair had been a mess, I couldn’t listen to her for any span of time, and I’d been too fucked up to change out of the shorts I’d pissed in from laughing too hard.
	That was it for her. I’d told myself she’d forgive me. Part of me believed it, another part just hoped, but there was an old expression my grandpa had told me about hoping in one hand and shitting in the other, and it seemed one hand had filled up first.
	She turned the car off. We sat there for several moments in silence.
	“Please, mom. I get it. I won’t be a hassle anymore, I promise.” I felt the urge to cry, but I refused to belittle myself like that, especially in front of [i] her. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]The light in the car turned on as she clicked her door open. “It’s not going to be that bad.”
	“It [i] is.  [/i]There is nothing to do out here. How am I supposed to deal with this and then deal with school the next year? I need a [i] break,  [/i]not more stress.”
	“This is a break, honey. It may not seem like it now, but what you need a break from is the city. You’re the one always telling me how much you hate it.”
	“Yes, but that’s because I hate everything.”
	She sighed. “Don’t talk like that.”
	“Mom.”
	She swung open the door and stuck a leg out.
	“Mom, please.”
	She slid out and stood.
	“Seriously, mom, come on….”
	She closed the door and then turned away from me, toward the house.
	I sighed, aggrieved, and stepped out a few moments later.

	Chapter One:

	I lied there on my bed and watched the ceiling fan spin. It was on high, so every second or so it creaked softly. If I listened hard enough, the sound carried me away and the spinning fan blades dulled my sensibilities until it seemed as if I didn’t exist for a few sweet moments, but I always came back to reality. Back to the boring, empty, depressing reality. 
	I did this multiple times, until I thought an hour had passed and I finally looked over at the clock.
	[i] 10 minutes…  [/i]I thought, mystified. I sat up sharply, a bit startled by the depths of my boredom
	I walked downstairs and told grandma I was going to take a walk. 
	[i] It’s only been four hours. I’ve only been here for four hours….  [/i]I walked out the front door and started walking down the dirt road. [i] Only 2,156 hours to go….  [/i]
	I walked for a few moments, hands in my pockets, eyes downcast, when I remembered her again. [i] Daisy…. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I looked over, across the field to the left, half expecting to find her there, to find her mom or her dad, to find them in church clothes piling into their old clunker of a pick up just like they used to. But there was nobody there. Only the old, creaking house, that had seen far better days, and a similar pick up truck (or possibly the same one?) which had also seen better days. I looked back down at my feet.
[i] 	 [/i]Not long after my mom had left to drive back to the city, Grandma told me that she still lived in the same place with her dad, still in the house right next door to us. She’d been a childhood friend, my first crush, someone I’d always found exceptionally beautiful, somebody I’d had a lot of ‘first times’ with—someone I'd fantasized about for many years after.
	We were young in those days. We hung out from elementary to 7th grade. She’d been there crying when I left, watching me as I was driven to the city.
	...[i] I forgot all about that. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I looked back over at her house, hoping to see someone there, but the rickety-looking porch was still deserted. I stopped walking and stared at the house, reliving the past.
[i] 	 [/i]Like I said, she was my first crush, but she was also the first girl to cry over me. The first girl I’d ever kissed. The first girl I’d ever seen in her underwear. The first girl I’d ever pictured late at night while alone in my room. The first girl I’d ever spent any alone time with, and the only girl who I’d ever spent any [i] real  [/i]alone time with.
	[i] She was also the first girl I ever saw have an- [/i]
	My thoughts were cut short by a sudden… change. I was at a distance, so I could only faintly see it, but it looked as if things had suddenly gotten darker behind the screen-door of Daisy's house, as if the front door had been-
	-And then the screen-door flung open. A body stepped outside, facing in my direction, one hand hanging down, the other holding on to the screen. 
	[i] It’s… a girl.  [/i]My eyes widened and I stared back, but turned away a moment later. [i] Could it be… her? Could it really be Daisy? It’s impossible, isn’t it? It’s been so long, she’d probably hate me now, we’ve changed so much. I know I have, I’m sure she has too….  [/i] I looked back at her, and she was still staring. She was a bit faint in the distance, but I could tell the shape was feminine, and it looked young too. 
	[i] If Daisy really does live there, then it has to either be her or her mom… and I don’t think that’s her mom. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I looked back down at the dirt, and then back up at her. When my eyes came back up, she had begun walking down the steps of the porch. I watched her and I could tell she watched me. She stopped at the bottom of the steps for a moment. I looked down again, this time for a longer period. I kicked at the dirt, like I were striking a stone. My hands were buried deep in my shallow pockets and I was picking at my teeth with my tongue like I always did when I was nervous. When I looked back up, my heart almost lept out of my chest.
	[i] She’s coming over…. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I watched her for a few seconds, and then turned back down toward the dirt, trying not to seem too awkward. It's never easy seeming cool while waiting for someone to walk over to you from a distance, knowing they were watching your every move.
	When she got so close that I could make out the shape of her body, that I could see the dark blond hair, half of it trailing down behind her back, the other half trailing down in front of her ample breasts, that I could see the tight, faded black jeans covering defined curves, when I could see the denim clinging to her flesh, wrapped around her wide, healthy thighs, I turned 45 degrees in her direction and looked up at her, and then back down at the dirt.
	“Jacob?” Her voice rang out, more mature now, but almost as cute and petite as when she’d been a child. “That’s you, isn’t it?” I could tell she was smiling by her tone.
	I looked up and involuntarily smiled back. “Yeah, it’s me.”
	She came toward me, her eyes wide, almost as if she couldn’t believe what she was seeing. “Oh my God.” She covered her mouth. “It’s been so long. How are you? You… You do remember me, right?”
	“Of course I do. It’s been a long time, Daisy…. And I’m doing… alright. I guess. Doing better now, though.” I looked into her eyes, not intending to sound reminiscent or romantic, and utterly unsure if she’d heard it that way. “I just mean, I didn’t think I’d… meet anyone out here. Let alone you, of all people.”
	“I know the feeling.” She looked up and down my body, as if she were verifying I was real. I went to do the same, for more reasons than just verifying her existence, but the moment I’d moved my head I realized I’d done it several times already without noticing and blushed a bit.
	[i] She’s still just as beautiful as she always was… except now she’s… really sexy too. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“How come you’re back all of a sudden?”
	“Uh, well… it’s a bit of a long story, I guess.”
	She looked past me and then around a bit. “A long story? Well, don’t let me impose on your standing around and your dirt kicking. I can tell it’s important stuff you’re doing out here all alone.”
	I blushed a bit more. “I didn’t mean it like that. I-I mean I can tell you if you want. If you have the time I mean.”
	She smiled and chuckled. “I was just teasing you, I know what you mean. But yes, I’d love to hear it.”
	“Yeah?” I raised my eyebrows and smiled again—again involuntarily, something that was rare for me, especially when talking to women. “Alright,” I chuckled, “um, where to start….”
	“You wanna take a walk? A lot has changed since you’ve been gone. Trees growing and other exciting things.”
	My eyes widened a bit, hopefully imperceptibly. [i] Walks through the fields and the woods,  [/i]I thought. [i] That’s where it all happened. The kiss, the underwear, and of course the….  [/i]I swallowed and quickly collected myself. “Yeah, sure.” I smiled again, a special kind of smile. The sort that for it’s length felt completely natural, completely [i] right,  [/i]almost childlike in it’s hopefulness.
	It had been a long time since I’d smiled like that.

	Chapter Two:

	On the way to grandma’s house, I’d never have imagined it possible that I could wake up the next morning feeling anything other than depressed. The smell of old antiques and dust hung stale in the previously unused room. The blankets on the bed were stiff, almost as firm as the mattress itself. I had no wifi for my phone, no television in my room, and the windows had no blinds so I couldn’t even sleep in.
	But all that aside, I woke up fast, faster than I ever did when I was living in the city, despite not being a morning person whatsoever. I got dressed and hurried downstairs to eat breakfast. I made polite conversation with grandma, but my eyes kept darting to the clock and my mind was somewhere else entirely.
	9[i]  o’clock.  [/i]I thought. When she’d said it to me, I hadn’t thought it possible at first. I caught myself wondering if 9 o’clock were even a real time, if people actually did things that early in the day. [i] But she wants to hang out again today. I told her everything…. Well, not everything, but more than I should have. And… she still wants to hang out. [/i]
[i] 	She’s changed, just like I have, but deep down, it’s still Daisy. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]The strangest thing about the previous day had been Daisy’s reaction to my explanation of how I ended up back out in the fields. Patient, understanding, [i] unphased, a [/i]nd when I’d justified it all, when I’d told her my reasons for being the person I was, for being Jacob the Troublemaker, for being Jacob the Problem Child, she didn’t try to scold me or argue with me or try to tell me what I was doing was wrong or what I should be doing instead. She listened to me, she nodded and she [i] agreed  [/i]with him—and not just sympathy agreement, but legitimate, real agreement. Agreement by somebody other than Terry or my other friends.
	[i] 9 o’clock.  [/i]I thought, sitting on the living room couch now, staring intently at the clock. [i] The walk should only take three minutes at most…. So only 15 minutes more to go. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I sat there, tapping my fingers on my thigh, watching the minute hand on the old analogue clock go in gratingly slow circles. It wasn’t that I wanted to see Daisy all [i] that  [/i]badly, but the lack of literally [i] anything  [/i]else to do made the wait almost unbearable. Five minutes later I stood.
	[i] Nothing wrong with showing up tastefully early,  [/i]I thought. 
	After telling grandma I was leaving, I walked out and headed directly across the field toward her house. The grass was faintly wet from a rain earlier that morning, and there were a series of rapidly moving storm clouds in the air. Thankfully, I could see the sun in the horizon, and far out the sky looked clear, but for the time being it was muggy and humid and looked as if it could rain any moment.
	I walked up to her front door and pulled open the screen-door. I swallowed nervously, not sure what I would say to her mom or to her dad if they answered instead of her.
	[i] Will they recognize me? Would they even remember me if I told them my name? [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I knocked. I heard a human noise beyond the door, like a cross between a groan and a grunt, but too soft to be called either. A distinctly male sound.
	[i] Her dad?  [/i]I thought.
	The door opened a few minutes later, revealing Clark Harris, Daisy’s dad. I filled my lungs as softly as I could manage, hoping he couldn’t overhear the shock. Mr. Harris looked back at me with dead eyes and droopy eyelids barley hanging over saggy, swollen black bags—not the sort people were sometimes born with, but the kind that could only be made with years of unhealthy habits and no sleep.
	He was skinnier than I remembered, and his face was unshaven to the point of almost having a beard. His hair was greasy and unwashed, and the same seemed to be true about his body, which was dark with dirt and tan. He was in his work clothes, a gray shirt stained and frayed to the point it could have only been acceptable in a manual labor job, and some blue jeans that were so faded they looked almost white.
	“You Daisy’s friends?” He asked, his tone gruff, but not entirely unfriendly. 
	“U-Uh, yeah. I’m Jacob, actually. The kid who used to live across the street….. We went to church together a few times. Our f-families did, I mean.”
	“Yeah?” His dead eyes lived for a moment. “Long time no see, boy.” He moved out the way so I could come in. “How’s it been?”
	“It’s been… alright.” I stepped into the house and was immediately assaulted by the stench of burnt tobacco, stale alcohol, and unwashed man. “Just trying to get through school.”
	He snorted. “Glad I’m out.”
	I forced a meek chuckle. “Yeah, I can imagine…. So, um, how have things been with you?”
	He looked down at me, his expression unchanging. His mouth moved oddly as he adjusted his lips and jaw. “They’ve been.” He answered finally, both after a wait and with a sense of finality. He walked over to the couch and sat down, and then laid down, and returned to watching television.
	“Ahhh,” I said, my profound discomfort forcing me to ball my hands into fists. “Things tend to do that.”
	Apparently satisfied with this, he coughed and spoke again. “The girl’s upstairs if you wanna see her. In ‘er room.”
	“Oh! Th-Thank you.” Without another word, all too happy to get out of that living room, I began to head upstairs. The first thing I noticed was how quickly the stench wore off. Having removed him from the equation helped more than it should have, but the further I got away from the living room in general, the less it smelled like gas station drugs and the more it smelled like old wood—the exact way a house like this was supposed to smell.
	[i] How does Daisy’s mom put up with that?  [/i]I thought, the obvious hitting me a moment later. [i] Unless… she couldn’t put up with it…. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I frowned a bit as I reached the top of the stairs and moved down the hall. The sour smell from downstairs was faint now, and even the old wood smell was giving into a feminine scent, something akin to perfume.
	I reached the only closed door at the top of the house and approached it.
	[i] Should I bring it up? Or, is it something I should let her bring up?  [/i]I frowned a bit harder. [i] Either way, it’ll take the right moment.  [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I put my hand on the door knob. [i] How long has she been living like this? How long has her dad been this way? Has it always been this ba- [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]The moment I began opening the door I realized that in my haste and in my distraction, I’d forgotten to knock, and the moment after that, the door was open.
	The only light in the room came from the sun, which was filtered behind the thinning storm clouds. A pale gray, almost blue-ish sea illuminated the room through the open window over her bed. Daisy stood in the center of the room facing her bed, knelt forward, her butt aimed in my direction. She stood up straight, pulling her jeans up with her, over a pair of dark blue, bikini style panties, the whole things made of some kind of semi-transparent lace or mesh that left her ample butt half visible through the small, uncovered areas.
	She glanced back a moment after I walked in, and once she'd gotten her jeans up to her hips and her unmentionables covered she turned to face me, still working on fastening the button of the new-looking, blue skinny jeans. Above the jeans was a tight blue tank-top, showing a small amount of cleavage through a black lacy net that covered the low-cut neck. I stood there, staring at her, too shocked to back out of the room.
	“Whoops. Weren't supposed to see those....” She said, matter-of-factually.
	“Shit. Sorry about that. I... I didn’t mean to walk-in on you…. I was just, thinking about something and forgot to knock.”
	“That’s fine. I wasn’t naked or anything.” She walked over to her closet, looking as casual as she had sounded.
	[i] No, you weren’t,  [/i]I thought. [i] But I still somehow managed to see a good bit of your butt…. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]She stopped for a moment and pursed her brows, giving a troubling look to something in the closet. “Plus,” she continued. “It’s not your fault. I would have had something on my mind too.”
	She turned away from me as she said this, in a way that made me think she didn’t want me to pry into what she meant.
	[i] There’s only one thing she could have meant…. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I took a few steps into her room and breathed deeply. The smell of her room contrasted sharply with the rest of the house in the most refreshing way. Half of the smell was of nature and of the storm clouds, and the other half was a settled sort of femininity. There was an added sweetness to it, that likely came from having deliberately tried to make her room smell good, as an offense against her father's stench. Likely, the smell had lingered for awhile and had ample time to mix with her own, natural aroma.
	“You know what?” She said, walking over to the window and leaning against her bed as she looked out “Skies clearing up. Looks like I won’t need it.” She walked past me, stopping in the door frame. “Come on, let’s get out of her.” I followed her, and she closed the door behind me.
	We led the way down the steps and headed straight for the front door. She opened it and held it for me as we walked out. At no point did she say anything or so much as look at her dad.
	Once we were outside, she led the way down off her porch and then waited for me. We walked together to the same place we’d gone yesterday, to the field beyond the hill. We were both silent until we’d crossed over the hill and were halfway down the other side.
	“So where do you wanna go?” She asked.
	I looked over at her and took a second to appreciate her button cute nose and her innocent features. “Uhhh, how about we go to the Tree like we talked about yesterday?”
	“Okay, it’s been awhile since I’ve been there. But like I said, fair warning, but our trails aren’t what they used to be. A lot of it's grown over.”
	“And what was so important you couldn’t dedicate all of your time to maintaining our trails?”
	“Well,” she said, with a momentarily, almost imperceptible smile. “I put in a lot more time than you did, so I’d say that should get me off the hook.”
	“True…. But that’s only because I was away on important business. I expected better from my woods-wife.” I looked over. The moment I saw her expression, I grinned.
	“Seems like you haven’t forgotten everything after all.” She said, blushing and trying to hold back a growing smile.
	“Don’t worry. I remembered the important stuff.”
	“...Oh?”
	“Yeah,” I replied, matter-of-factually. “Like that time you slipped while we were crossing the log and you fell in wet dirt. You looked like you peed yourself so I teased for it.”
	“Oh, that’s important stuff, is it?” She replied wryly.
	“I consider any time you seriously embarrassed yourself important.”
	“...So you remember every time I embarrassed myself?”
	“Only the serious times,” I replied with a shrug. “You get this look on your face that’s hard to forget.”
	“Uh huh.” 
	“Yep, I’ll never forget it. It’s like this wide-eyed look of shock. I’ve only seen it on you a few times, but you wear it well.”
	She rolled her eyes, cheeks a pale shade of pink. 
	[i] You’re thinking of the same thing I am, aren’t you?  [/i]I thought, I admiring her from the side. [i] The first time you lost con- [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“Okay, let’s see how much of our trail is still around.” She said as we approached the wood’s edge. She went forward and started to wrestle with the initial wave of vines in our way. “Alright branches, we can do this the easy way or the hard way….”
	She led the way through the woods. I felt a bit self-conscious at first, feeling as though I were obligated to be the one leading in case of spiders or wild animals, but they were, in a way, [i] her  [/i]woods now, and she knew them a lot more intimately than I did.
	Of course, there were worse things than being behind her as she climbed up logs and had to contort her body in all manners of ways. I felt a bit guilty for ogling her so aggressively, but all I could think about were those blue panties and the bits of her butt I’d seen through them. And then there was the cool way she’d reacted: utterly unphased, as if it meant nothing to her, even though her cheeks had turned the faintest shade red after it had happened.
	[i] Whoops. Weren't supposed to see those.... [/i]
	Whenever I tried to look away from her body, I found it intruding back into my line of vision, and soon my eyes would begin to follow it again.
	[i] She has such a nice ass it’s ridiculous. I was mostly walking next to her yesterday so I only saw it a couple times, but my god…. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]It took awhile, but we eventually reached the other end of the woods. We emerged into a long field, a hill in front of us that wasn’t particularly huge, but ascended fast, and at the very top was a lone tree, as thick as it was old.
	We moved up the hill and sat down against the trunk just like we used to. It wasn’t particularly hot out, but the dirt was cool against our jeans and the shade without the humidity of the woods was soothing. I looked over at her when she closed her eyes. Her breasts had grown since I’d last seen her.
	A lot.
	They had to be at least a c-cup now, and looked visually artistic sitting on her chest the way they did then, kept propped up by her bra. My eyes darted toward her almost entirely exposed shoulders. During the walk, her bra straps had slipped out from under the tank top and sat soft and dark blue against her white flesh.
	I turned away and swallowed. [i] Blue panties, blue bra, blue shirt… even blue jeans. Not only did she match her bra and panties, but she matched it with her clothes. And she did it completely for herself, since she had no way of knowing I’d catch her dressing…. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I don’t know how long we sat there in silence, enjoying the breeze. The air was warm, but refreshing in virtue of how strong it was. Every time the wind blew the woods around us turned into a cacophony of trees swinging to and fro, and the branches of the giant tree above moved with it, raining down occasional leaves on our heads.
	“Okay,” she said suddenly, getting to her feet and brushing off her butt. “We should go.”
	I looked up at her. “Why so sudden?”
	“What do you mean sudden? We’ve been sitting out here for at least half an hour.”
	“Well, I know that.” I answered climbing to my feet. “I just mean why you jumped up so suddenly. Honestly, what’s there to go back to?”
	“Uh, well, the bathroom for starters. It’s a long walk and I already feel like I’m gonna burst.” Her legs shifted in a small, dramatized pee dance as she stared down at me. “So let’s hurry up.”
[i] 	Again?  [/i]I thought as she led the way. [i] You seemed like you were gonna burst yesterday too.... [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I thought back to the day before, when we'd been walking and talking, Not long into it she'd started moving strangely. She'd taken inward steps through the grass, like she'd feared spreading her legs too far. Whenever they’d come to a complete stop, she’d been unable to remain still--early on she’d only grinded her thighs a bit, but within twenty minutes from that she'd started doing the most obvious and childish dance I'd ever seen out of an adult, going from foot to foot and biting her lip.
	For some reason she'd stayed completely silent about her need, and only done her best to continue the conversation. Eventually, though, she stopped. When I turned to look at her, she was grimacing, one hand now pressed firmly between her legs, her hips shaking as she went from foot to foot.
	“Crap.” She'd said, glancing down at her restless waist. “I'm about to pee my pants. I'd better go, but we should talk tomorrow if you're free.”
	And just like that we hastily threw together a date of sorts around 9am today, and a moment later I was watching her hastily dance across the field.
	[i] I'm about to pee my pants. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I couldn't help but meditate on those words as I watched her lead the way back through the woods, her legs frequently shifting back and forth.
	[i] I can't believe she still holds her piss this long.  [/i]I thought, somewhat astonished. [i] I thought yesterday was just a fluke, but she is just as bad as she used to be.... [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]We walked for several minutes. I made sure to hang back, letting her restless body set the pace, watching her squirm with every span of flat space. After a few difficult to pass obstacles, she started using a hand whenever she had to take a big step or climb over a branch, always removing it the moment we'd passed. 
	At one point she had to climb on top of a felled tree to pass. Because of the vines, it wasn't feasible to climb down, so she had to jump at least a bit. She paused on top of the tree and placed a perfectly fitting hand firmly against the crotch of her jeans.  She made the jump, keeping her hand pressed tightly down the entire time. When she landed, she grimaced and bit down on her lip, and possibly cursed under her breath.
	She kept her hand on her crotch now, still power-walking forward in hopes of making it home. 
	[i] She seems intent on not peeing outside,  [/i]I thought. [i] But the longer this goes on the more it looks like it's going to happen, with those jeans on or not. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I pictured her jeans suddenly saturating. I could see that look on her face, the wide-eyed one whenever she was seriously embarrassed. I felt guilty for wanting to see it, to see the glimmer of urine on her pants, running down her ankles and into her shoes and onto the dirt. I pictured her panties too, the transparent blue ones that she'd chosen to match her clothes.
	[i] Those might actually be wet.... The face she'd made after jumping off the log, and her hand, too. She hasn't removed it from her crotch since. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]She stopped and bent forward, hand between the legs still, hips shaking with every inward step, just like the day before. “Yeah.”
	“...Yeah?” I said back.
	“I'm starting to lose control.” She started to walk off into the brush. “Gotta pee here.”
	I watched as she awkwardly shuffled toward the nearest tree trunk, hand still pressed down on her pussy. On the way, she tried to use her free hand to undo the button of her jeans, but it was too tight to do with one hand. Most of her body disappeared behind a tree trunk, but I could see her sides poking out.
	[i] One of the hazards of waiting so long you don't have the liberty of choosing your tree.... [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]Her elbow moved as she yanked her hand free from her tightly pressed thighs and went for the button with both hands. She undid it and pulled the jeans down with impressive speed. All I could see from my position were the sides of her butt cheeks that the tree trunk were too narrow to block, but it was enough to see that she initially pulled the jeans down to her thighs and stuck her butt out a bit, and only then eased herself into a squat. The sound of piss splattering on damp leaves was immediate and powerful.
	[i] She started pissing the moment she got her jeans out the way....  [/i]I thought. [i] Or... possibly even sooner. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]The sound echoed through the forest. Even when she got into her squat I could still hear it ringing out for a solid fifteen seconds, fading out a bit toward the end. When the audible stream had stopped, she remained there for about twenty more seconds, presumably squeezing out the remaining bits. She stood up after that, suddenly, not bothering to grab a leaf to wipe with.
[i] 	 [/i]When she reappeared from behind the tree, I was a bit disappointed to find her jeans utterly dry.
	“Damn, that was close.” She brushed off her thighs and sighed with relief. “We can walk around some more now, if you want.”
	I agreed and she led the way, going down the same path toward home. My eyes traced her backside, looking for potential marks or leaks, but finding none.
	[i] Weird,  [/i]I thought. [i] I really thought there'd be a mark after tha- [/i]
	Before I could finish the thought, she grabbed both sides of her jeans and pulled them up tight, forming the denim against her bottom and groin, wiggling her butt a bit as she did it. “Really need to get some toilet paper out here....” She muttered, just loud enough so that I could hear it.
	
	Chapter Three:
	
	The following day was sweltering from the moment I woke up. The old house had a modern air conditioning unit, but my grandmother complained it cost too much run and that she was sensitive to the cold. This resulted in an AC that cut off moments before the heat reached a bearable level and only turned back on when the house was close to becoming a second sun.
	Daisy had checked the news and told me the day before that it was going to be hot, and based on that information, we planned to go to the stream—assuming the 40% chance of rain did not escalate to 100%. I looked outside the window and found clear blue skies and an obnoxiously bright sun, with no sign of rain in the distance. A far cry from the morning before.
	I got dressed and bounded down the steps to eat breakfast. I made some small talk with my grandmother and I helped her with the dishes. She mentioned something about chores, but was content with me doing them tomorrow (much to my relief.)
	The thought of hanging out with Daisy was always exciting, but the thought of going to the stream carried with it some important implications. At least, they were important to my young, male mind. 
	I chewed my lip nervously as I walked to her place, pondering questions of extreme philosophical importance:
	Would she wear a bikini? If she did, would it be a one-piece or a two-piece? And what color will it be? A classy black? A bold white? Something colorful like red, or blue, or green, or maybe even purple? I pictured her wet and glistening in the sun, and cycled through different potential swimsuits in my fantasy.
	[i] Hmm, I hope we do at least a bit of swimming. [/i] I glanced down at my shorts. I'd put on swim trunks instead of underwear just in case. Would she have the same foresight?
	[i] What if she forgets and wears regular underwear?  [/i]That thought disappointed me, but it was followed up with another possibility. [i] What if she forgets and still decides to go swimming...? [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I swallowed and forced my thoughts in another direction. I was almost there and I could feel myself beginning to react physically to the images in my head.
	[i] What if I see her in a bikini and 'react physically' then? What will she think? My swimming trunks aren't going to do a very good covering me. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]And then there was the [i] other [/i] implication. The implication of being wet, in a swimsuit, of being out in the middle of nowhere for a long period of time. It was a consideration justified by the last two times I'd seen Daisy, by her... unconventional habits. But I dared not consider this in detail. I knew the moment I did, I would most certainly 'react physically,' and I would likely remain 'reacted' for a substantial period.
	I was so distracted by my own thoughts that I got three-quarters of the way to Daisy's house before realizing she was sitting out on her porch, already waiting for me. There were a few moments of mild awkwardness, that sense we'd had on the first day I'd arrived of 'I can see that you see me coming toward you, but we're still too far away to speak,' but not as pronounced. There was less anxiety now, and more of a bountiful sense of optimism—a feeling that my life in the city had largely lacked.
	I arrived at decaying steps that led up to her porch. There was a wisp of white before me, contrasting dramatically with the rest of the scene. The porch was old and rickety and the very picture of mildew and dirt. It had never been much to look at, as the Harris family had never taken the time to paint it, but at least back in the day it had been clean. Now it seemed barely fit for occupation. 
	The sight was strange, as strange as seeing her dad, Clark, in tatters, as strange as seeing the downstairs of her house in such a mess, as strange as not seeing her mother anywhere around the house and knowing I would never see her again. But the sight was made stranger by the sight of Daisy: the beautiful young woman who had once been a cute little girl, who had once been my best friend and my first crush. She was sitting amongst the mildew and dirt and old wood, sitting with her own fragrance of both youth and maturity, of flowers and nature--of pure feminine charm.
	She stood out so definitely there, so defiant, with her flawless skin, which had the smoothness and tint of vanilla milk; with her pale white dress, so white it seemed almost electric among the browns and the light browns and the dark browns and the dark greens of the porch; with her dirty blond locks that tumbled past her shoulders, seeming more blond than they had the day before.
	“Hey, took you long enough.” She said, smiling at me.
	“I'm here early. Didn't think you'd be outside waiting for me, though. What's wrong? Couldn't contain your excitement at the thought of seeing me again?”
	“You could be so lucky. I actually just wanted to get some fresh air. Too stuffy in there.” She lifted the glass on the armrest of her wooden chair and took a sip.
	An image of her drunk dad in stained work clothes flashed through my mind. [i] Stuffy, huh? That's one way to put it.... [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“You want a drink?” She held the glass out to me. My eyes instinctively went to the spot her lips had touched. 
	“Sure.” I took the glass and drank, making sure to put my lips in roughly the same place. “Wow, you like your tea bitter.”
	“Or maybe you just like your tea sweet.” She stood up, patting down her dress as she did it.
	My eyes went to the hem of the skirt. The dress hung off her shoulders, held up by two narrow straps that looked as if they would snap from the slightest provocation. They extended down her chest and then widened out to cover her body, starting just a bit too low to cover her entire breasts. The dress hugged her body a bit further than most sundresses, loosening and even billowing a bit around her waist, right around the point a traditional skirt would sit.
	Despite the perfect shape and the aggressively form-fitting nature of the dress, and even despite the cleavage which would have made looking her in the eyes a challenge had she not had such a cute face, and even despite the slight transparency that accidentally showed the outline of the dark bra beneath; the thing that was most notable about the dress was how well it fit compared to how short it was. It seemed to be exactly her size, and at the very worst a half size too small, but it's length seemed one, maybe two full sizes too short for her, and even then I had my doubts. 
	When I'd walked up and saw her initially, I'd assumed she'd just neglected to mat down her dress before sitting and that it'd gotten pulled up a bit, but now that she was standing I could see that the dress at full length only came about halfway down her thighs. It was cute and fun, something that might be worn to a church-sponsored picnic--but was the length of a mini-skirt while being as light and loose as any sundress could be expected to be. It was the sort of thing only a little girl could get away with wearing without seeming promiscuous, something that she [i] would  [/i]have worn as a little girl.
	[i] And we're going in the woods.... She's going to have to climb some fallen trees and bend into some pretty compromising positions to avoid vines and roots and stuff....  [/i]I swallowed, knowing what I would be seeing whether I intended to see it or not. Whether I intended to see [i] them  [/i]or not.
	She set the glass on the armrest and turned toward me. “Ready to leave?”
	We left her house and walked together down the grassy valley. For a few minutes she strode along with her hands clasped behind her back, her skirt blowing dangerously in the wind and her hair mimicking the motions. I watched her, amazed at my luck, amazed how little she'd changed, at how little [i] we'd  [/i]changed.
	I fell behind her a few steps and eyeballed the skirt. Her butt pushed it out a bit and the wind carried it so high I thought I'd nearly seen her panties a few times, but always to no avail. I took in the complete shape of her body, the perfection of it. 
[i] 	Then again, maybe she has changed a bit.... [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I looked down nervously at my own body before catching up with her and walking side by side again. [i] Maybe I have too. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]We reached the edge of the valley and stood for a moment on the fringe of the woods. 
	“Is there any trail at all?” I asked, looking at the wall of leaves and trees and bushes.
	“Yeah, it's probably the most... still existing trail left, but the bushes completely grew over the entrance, so we'll have to force our way by.” She led the way up to a bush that seemed like any other, but after we slid our way past the sticks and vines, there was the remnants of a path.
	The walk was a smooth one for some time, but we eventually encountered a felled tree, and from that point on, things got a bit more difficult to navigate. It was nothing we couldn't handle, but handling it in a short dress while remaining both sure-of-foot and couthful was another matter entirely.
	Daisy went up to the tree and looked down at her dress for a moment, as if considering the matter. She turned toward me and lifted herself up and sat her butt on the old wood. With her legs expertly closed, she managed to contort them over the tree sideways, so smoothly and with such grace it hardly seemed like she had done anything unusual at all. It wasn't until she flipped completely around to face the opposite way and slid down to her feet that the dress caught on the trunk and rode up, showing a glimpse of red. Rising up high enough to show even a hint of flesh at the plumpest corners of her butt cheeks.
	When she got to the other side, she matted down her dress, as if it hadn't happened at all.
	I bit my lip and my heart fluttered. [i] God, she is hot. She is just... unbelievable.  [/i]It was all I thought as I climbed over the tree and followed behind her again. It was all I could think.
	“Damn. I knew I should have gone inside to pee before we left.” She didn't look over at me when she spoke. She only looked around a bit, as if she might stumble upon a wild toilet.
	I looked over at her, my heart fluttering harder. “Did you need to go then?”
	“A bit, yeah.” She matted down her skirt again, as a matter of habit. “But I don't really like going in and out a lot. Plus, it wasn't bad then. I should have just known better since I was drinking tea.”
	[i] You don't like going in and out a lot...  [/i]A picture of her dad ran through my mind. [i] I wouldn't either if I were in your position. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“That's quite the situation.” I said back to her, a few moments later. “At least you're in a dress. That way when you piss yourself, it won't show.”
	She smiled and ducked her way through some bushes. When she ducked down, her dress lifted again and saw a momentary flash of red against her behind. “Worst case scenario I'll just pop a squat. Like last time.”
	[i] Last time had seemed like such a close call I was surprised you came back with dry pants....  [/i]I thought, but dared not say.
	Instead, I remained silent, wanting the conversation to go on, but at a loss for words.
	Throughout the remainder of the walk, there were a couple more flashes of her panties, but nothing as major as the first one by the tree. These were not from such a perfect angle or seen with such clarity, nor was it in moments where I had the pleasure of watching her like she were some kind of movie.
	I felt a bit guilty eyeballing her with such lust. I felt guilty that I was not only seeing the panties she was taking efforts to hide, but that I actively wanted to see them and was subtly contorting and positioning myself to increase the chances of them being shown.
	We reached the end of the path after a fair bit of walking, seeing the clearing first and hearing the stream as we got closer. We walked out onto white, stony sand and basked in the sun. It was hellishly hot in the woods, so hot that one yearned for direct sunlight just for the accompanying breeze.
	“This brings back lots of memories, wow.” I walked toward the stream and took a deep breath.
	“I can imagine. I get the same feeling every time I'm out here, and I haven't been away for years.”
	“Yeah,” I said. “Makes me wonder why I ever even left.”
	“Because you  had no choice.” She said. I turned around to meet her eyes. “I remember that distinctly,” she continued. 
	“Yeah, I do too.” I turned back toward the stream. “Won't be forgetting that day any time soon.”
	“You should try to.” She answered, amused. “I don't like the times I've cried to be remembered.”
	“What's wrong? Does it embarrass you?”
	She walked over to the  middle of the beach, kicked off her shoes, and sat down crossed legged on the sand. Her skirt draped down over her panties and covered a bit of her upper thighs, but that was scarcely it. She clutched the edge in her palm and kept it pulled tightly down, showing even more thigh, but assuring it did not ride up or get caught by the breeze. I swallowed, immediately aroused by the sight. 
	“Maybe.” She answered, removing her socks. She looked out onto the stream, which was really more of a slow moving river, and then beyond it, into the endless brush and trees.
	I walked over and took a seat next to her, only a few inches from her side. “All the same, I have no plans of forgetting.”
	A few moments of silence passed before she looked over me. I looked back at her. She had no particular expression on her face, save a mild curiosity. 
	“Plus, I can remember a few things more embarrassing that.”
	She pursed her lips and blushed the faintest bit. “Is that so?”
	“Uh huh.” I confirmed. “Some rather embarrassing stuff that happened right out here, actually....”
	She cocked an eyebrow, lips still pursed. But her expression relaxed into a smile and she turned away. She squirmed a bit, like she were grinding her butt into the sand, and it'd looked as if she'd pressed the dress into her womanhood for a moment.
	“Let's hope we don't have any repeats, shall we?”
	My eyebrows rose in surprise, but she wasn't looking at me anymore. I turned away, lost for words. 
	[i] She knew exactly what I was talking about.... How, though? Of all the things we've done here, how'd she immediately know I meant  [/i]that [i] stuff? [/i]
[i] 	...It's impossible. I must have read into it wrong. She could have meant anything with that comment. Right? [/i]
[i] 	...Right? [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]We sat in silence for a bit, appreciating the crackling of the stream and the virtuous breeze and the noise it made as it glided against the trees. I saw Daisy squirm a few times, the same motion as before—like she were grinding her butt into the sand while pressing the dress into her crotch, before relaxing a moment later. As it went on, the squirming got more frequent until eventually her feet begin to fidget and her bare toes curled in and out.
	[i] I doubt the crackling of the stream is helping much. Of all the days you could neglect going to the toilet.... [/i]
[i] 	...Then again, that's been every day so far, so I guess the thought isn't too out there. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]Finally, she squirmed again, a major squirm, followed by continuous fidgeting in her hips that showed no sign of stopping. Not long after, she climbed to her feet, cleverly holding the dress to her crotch like she were covering her underwear, when in reality she was holding herself.
	“Too hot over here.”
	I leaned back and watched as she walked to the only big rock on the beach, positioned immediately behind me and perfectly-placed beneath the outer edge of a long, jutting branch covered in leaves. She went down again, holding her dress against her crotch. I turned back toward the stream, secretly glad she couldn't look over and see I'd grown hard (yet again.)
	[i] I wonder if she really was just too hot. Or did she move back there so she could freely hold herself? [/i]
[i] 	Why go through all the trouble, though? Why not just piss? [/i]
[i] 	...She really hasn't changed all that much, has she?  [/i]I thought, amused.
	“Did you ever think of me?” She asked suddenly, shattering my reverie. “When you were away, I mean?”
	I half turned to look back at her. “Of course.” I paused for a moment to collect my thoughts.
	“Yeah?” She urged me on.
	“Yeah, of course. I mean... how could I not?” A boyish smile formed on my lips. “You cried for me.”
	“Ugh. I meant after that. Later. Way later.”
	“How much later?” I asked.
	“You tell me.”
	I rotated 180 degrees to face her. The beach was sloped down the slightest bit, so I was looking up at her, directly across from her body, directly across from her pretty face and tumbling locks, directly across from her delicate curves and the bold cleavage visible atop the perky breasts kept suspended in her dark-colored bra, the outline still showing through the white dress.
	The weaving leaves on the branch above her filtered out about three-quarters of the light. The remaining sun bathed her in a mosaic of transforming spots. She readjusted herself against the rock and lifted her legs into the shape of an 'N.'
	My heart pounded against my chest as her dress lifted and my eyes traveled the lengths of her legs. Even in the shadows I could make out the dark red strip of fabric traveling the length of her crotch. I could even see where it widened out to cover her butt.
	And then there was the extended shock of realizing this was not just a between state assumed during some desperate squirming, nor a momentary lack of judgment. Her legs remained like this, up, completely uncovered from the bottoms down, her groin nearly presented to me.
	But the final shock, and arguably the most shocking realization of the three, was that she did not spread her legs to allow the short skirt of the dress to fall down and cover her; nor did she hold it down like when she'd been sitting cross-legged; nor did she close her legs completely to help use her shins and her feet to block my view. Her dress was held up by her closed thighs--presumably leaving the fabric free to curl up further toward her belly—and her legs spread below the knee, as if to make it easy as possible to look up at her bottoms.
	[i] Or to make it as hard as possible to not look.... [/i]
[i] 	She wouldn't mess with me like that, would she? Not... not anymore, at least? [/i]
[i] 	Maybe she just isn't paying attention. Maybe she just isn't used to dresses anymore. [/i]
[i] 	But... it's so... obvious. How could she not realize? [/i]
[i] 	It's just like what she used to do. [/i]
[i] 	She wants to call me on it. To tease me for looking like when we were kids. The real question is should I give her what she wants and... what I kind of want? Or should I fight it and not look? [/i]
[i] 	Can I fight it, though...? It just so out there, so obvious, even now I'm- [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“Jeez, don't have an aneurysm.” She squirmed a bit in the hips, as if telling me that was the area she was referring to. Her eyebrows were pursed like she was angry, but they relaxed a moment later. She rolled her eyes.
	I stared back at her, shocked and speechless, for a split second unsure if she could read my mind.
	[i] How could she tell? Was I really being... that obvious? [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“Jacob, your face is almost as red as my [i] bikini.” [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I inhaled slowly and heavily, an involuntary smile creeping on my lips. As much as I wanted to play it cool and fabricate a lie, my smile gave me away. It was the sort of smile only she could bring out of me. 
	“You thought they were panties, didn't you?” She had an almost coquettish tone, and even in the darkness of the mosaic shade I could see her cheeks turn a shade darker.
	“I thought they were, yes.” I answered, closing my eyes in shame. But I opened them a moment later and put up my index finger. “But. I did have my suspicions.”
	“Your suspicions, huh? But you did think it was panties, though. When all is said and done?”
	“When all is said and done... yes.” I reluctantly admitted.
	Her smile widened. “Do you really think I'm that slutty?”
	My eyes widened a bit, but before I could panic and stumble over words, she went on:
	“Maybe you just wanted to believe they were my panties.” She smirked mischievously.
	My face was burning. [i] So she  [/i]was[i]  messing with me.... Just baiting me in.... [/i]
[i] 	I deserved it, though. And it was totally worth it. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“Yeah, yeah....” I answered, too embarrassed to find cleverer words. 
	We sat in silence for awhile. At first looking at each other, and then looking at the nature that surrounded us. Daisy stared at the creek and at the brush beyond it, and I stared up at the big tree which shielded her and into the deep woods I'd not been apart of for so many years.
	I considered turning back around, but Daisy had not lowered her legs. I knew it was the gentlemanly thing to do, but I couldn't quite bring myself to spoil the view. The image of Daisy like that, at complete peace, bathed in fragmented pieces of light, her body the living form of femininity, her shape the shape of pure beauty itself, her words and her jokes and her coy, calm demeanor still echoing in my head—I had come to see the creek and woods and to see the habitat I'd grown up in, but I'd found something far more charming. Something that dwarfed the undeniable immensity of the woods. 
	Unlike the woods and unlike unmanufactured nature, she was not just the conduit to that boundless feeling of smallness that culminates into a free-falling sense of freedom inside of something divine, but she was the object of my subject and the subject of my object, the very thing I wanted by my side when I entered that space, the very and only person who could give it the meaning it deserved.
	The truth was, I wanted to look at her. I wanted to look at her face and her hair. I wanted to admire her ears and delicate little fingers and toes. I wanted to bite her thigh and squeeze her ass and kiss her long and deep on the lips. I wanted to take her out for dinner and to take her home to watch movies all night. 
	But above all, in that fleeting strand of moments, what I wanted most was to look up her dress and see her bikini, and see the full image of her beautiful body, and she didn't seem to mind. At one point I even went so far as to lie down on my side and face her, one elbow placed on the dirt holding up my head. I pretended to be admiring the sunlight pouring through the big tree, but it was pretty obvious what I was really focused on.
	“I know I say it all the time, but I can't believe I'm really back here. And with you of all people.”
	“Who else would you be back with?” Her tone grew suddenly matter-of-fact. “I don't remember you staring up any other girl's dresses out here.”
	“No, no, of course not.... None that I told you about, at least.”
	Her body jolted in a way indicative of a chuckle, but she made no noise. “Don't make me laugh.”
	“Really. I was quite the player back in the day. I-”
	“-No, I mean literally. Don't make me laugh.”
	I cocked a curious brow and smiled slyly. In the same moment, she looked down at me from her small knoll, her line of sight traveling between her knees and landing on me.
	[i] Not what you pictured when you thought of seeing me between your knees, is it?  [/i]I thought, smirking.
	“Why is that?” I asked instead. “Something the matter?”
	She paused for a moment. I couldn't see her face clearly in the shadows, but I could tell her expression had changed. “[i] Yes,  [/i]something is the matter. I wonder what it could be.”
	“It must be your bikini. Is it uncomfortable? You're free to take it off. Really, don't mind me.”
	She laughed a bit, but it sounded forced. “Seriously. Stop making me laugh.”
	I couldn't tell if she was just subdued by the atmosphere and that had caused the laugh to sound soft, or if she'd possibly exaggerated a chuckle to play along. I preferred it to be real, but the idea of her faking it for the sake of continuing the topic carried with it certain pleasant implications.
	Had I been more of a Dickinson, I'd have chased that with another joke, but unfortunately, I was better at clever responses and too nervous of a person to have any consistent aptitude in improvised witticisms. So instead I did as she told me and stopped making her laugh. We sank into a blissful silence after that, just like the silences before. 
	There was a tension in the air now,, something shapeless yet growing, both a pressure and anxiety that promised pleasure in it's wake, a driving force that had always been there, but had gone consistently unnoticed.
	There was another tension, too, one that hadn't been around quite as long, but was growing far faster. 
	Daisy gyrated her hips a bit, as if she'd momentarily lifted her butt to push her pelvis forward, and then immediately pulled it back. The motion had been so slight I wasn't sure it had happened at all, but before I could question it, I saw her legs beginning to rock back and forth, slowly and only an inch or two apart, but with a sometimes jolting sense of urgency that showed me the action was largely compulsory. 
	This went on for about a minute. In this minute her toes had begun to curl again, and I saw the same gyration of her pelvis, except more pronounced this time—a pushing and then a pulling back, with an almost snake-like burrowing of her butt into the sand at the end. And then her hand appeared, coming around the back of her thigh, just above her butt. She pressed the flat of her four closed fingers against her groin and then squirmed again. 
	My eyes lifted a bit when I saw this. My heart began to pound against my chest once again. For a few moments, all I could think was [i] right in front of me. She's doing it right in front of me.  [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]Once I managed to get a grip on myself and calm down, my thoughts expanded. [i] Right in front me. Letting me see it so intimately. Letting me see her hold herself. Letting me see her press her fingers into her own pussy through her bikini.... And she's doing all of this instead of just peeing, even though she knows there's no way she'll make it back at this point. She's just delaying the inevitable, and for no reason.... [/i]
[i] 	For no reason.... [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]She squirmed again on the spot. Her fingers visibly pressed harder and her legs shook haltingly.
[i] 	“ [/i]Why the hand?” I asked, suddenly unable to merely observe the event. “I'll admit, I do like the style of it, but it's blocking my [i] wonderful  [/i]view.”
	“...Just like a little kid.” She fired back after a moment's pause. “Absolutely smitten by a swimsuit, cause he's just [i] that  [/i]inexperienced. Good thing I didn't wear panties--who knows what would have happened.”
	“They kinda look like panties from this angle. And I did make that mistake earlier, and I'd say I... contained myself.” The thought of cumming on my trunks made me blush.
	“Hrm.” She grunted back. It was hard to see in the light, but it seemed like she'd blushed a bit too. 
	“I remember having that argument in school.” I began, doing my best to tease through the crushing tension of the moment. “About girls being all shy about their panties, but happily walking out in an almost identical thing with a different name.”
	“When you put it like that, maybe they [i] are  [/i]a little too like panties.... Too much for comfort. Maybe I should just... close my legs then?” 
	“Well, let's not do anything drastic.... They're not [i] that  [/i]much like panties.”
	She smiled. “Well? Which is it? Are they like panties? Or are you gonna take it back so you don't have to stop gawking at me like a pathetic, little kid?”
	“Hmm.” I frowned. “A rock and a hard place.... But... I suppose it's a worthy cause. From here on out, I am a little kid who is smitten by bikinis, and since I am a little kid and you are a woman, I will now refer to you as mom.”
	She laughed out loud. 
	A second later, her body jolted. The hand on her crotch pressed down and turned sideways, causing it to lie almost vertically against her pussy. It pressed down tight, pushing the bikini against her flesh and some of it nearly beyond her lips.
	Most of her expression was still calm, but her eyes had widened a bit and her body was visibly tense.
	“Did you just piss yourself?”
	“I told you not to make me laugh.” She answered, matter-of-factly.
	“You pissed yourself.”
	She glanced down at her bikini. “No, but a little might have come out.”
	“Might have...?” I pressed.
	“Did.” She confirmed. “It's your fault, though, for making me laugh.”
	“Oh, is it now? Weren't you the one who was making[i]  irrational  [/i]threats if I didn't admit to being a child?”
	“I don't think putting my legs down is an irrational threat, especially when it's only to get you to admit the truth.”
	“Yes, but I can't think of a threat worse than that one.”
	“Is that so?” She asked coyly, her body beginning to relax a bit after the close call. “Well what if I threatened to pee on you?”
	 Hearing something like that out of her mouth, even jokingly, made my heart pound. After a moment's pause, I responded. “I think you'd have to run pretty fast to do that. And judging by how 'a little might have come out' from such a small amount of laughing, I'm pretty sure the only person who would end up peed on is you.”
	She smiled and closed her eyes for a moment. “That is a possibility.” Her legs shook a bit and she bit her lip. “I think I should bring my legs down now.”
	“Well that's not fair,” I complained. “I went and admitted I was pathetic and everything. You have no reason to... 'punish me' now, right?”
	“...Maybe.” She looked a bit surprised, as if she'd only just remembered our back and forth.
	[i] I guess suddenly peeing a little would make anyone forget what they were talking about.... [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“But, uh, while making you admit your pathetic-ness was... pleasant, [i] and [/i] completely true... I don't think I really have a choice anymore.”
	“And why is that?”
	“Because I'm pretty sure if I keep my legs like this you're... gonna see more than you signed up for.”
	“...More than I signed up for? What does that mean?” I pressed.
	“Hmm, what's the best way to put this....” She paused a moment. “So imagine taking my bikini and attaching it to a fire hydrant, and then opening the fire hydrant all the way.--Oh, and once it starts, it's not going to be like when I laughed. This time it won't stop.”
	The sudden tension those words inspired in me was so great that I felt dizzy for a moment. I couldn't think straight any longer, but thankfully, the words kept flowing, seemingly out of instinct.
	“So you're saying if you keep your legs open you're going to piss a high powered jet of urine at me?”
	She pursed her lips and paused for a moment. “Jacob, seriously. Don't make me laugh.”
	“Or what?”
	“You already know what.” She closed her legs and sat up on her knees. A moment later she shifted one ankle over the other and pressed the heel of her foot into her crotch.
	“Dang. I really shouldn't have made you laugh. That leak really did you in.....”
	She squirmed and for the shortest of seconds rubbed her pussy against her foot to help fight off the desperation. “If I'm being honest, I was kinda at my limit already. The leak just kinda brought it to my attention. I was really getting close to bursting.”
	[i] Is this real life...? [/i]
[i] 	“ [/i]T-That close, huh?”
	“Yeah. It's... It's like I have to pee really bad, but the position was making it super, super bad. Like the pee was right on the edge the whole time. I”m really lucky I had my hand there when you made me laugh. “ She smiled shyly and her cheeks burned red. A rare but charming look on her.
	I sat up and crossed my legs and arms. “Hmm, so it was the position then.”
	“Kinda, yeah. But, um, I still have to piss.” She laughed softly, but grimaced a moment later. “Really need to stop doing that....”
	I felt tempted to ask her if she'd leaked again, but held my tongue. Instead, I got to my feet. “Well, I suppose that means you're gonna go, then?”
	She bit her lip and pressed a hand tightly against her dress, pushing it into the crotch of her bikini. She got to her feet with a slow, gentle motion. “Um, no, not yet. I think I can wait a little longer. As long as nothing weird happens I shouldn't have any trouble.”
	I looked at her, a bit shocked. “You can? Er, I mean, you're actually going to? You're going to hold it longer?”
	“Yeah,” she said, showing me a small pee dance. “Why not? I got a few more minutes in me.”
	I looked at her with a blank look, mystification thinly veiled behind it. And then I smiled. “Just like when you were a kid.”
	She blushed and turned away, a shy smile on her face.
	I turned around and looked out over the woods, taking in the beauty and the sweet smells and calm sounds. The closeness to earth and the peace that comes hand and hand with it. I walked toward the stream and stopped right at the edge.
	“Does it feel good to be back?” She asked, walking up to stand by my side.
	“Yeah.” I admitted. “It feels great.”
	We stood there for at least two minutes, just taking in the essence of the forest. I had planned on standing there longer, but I caught Daisy squirming in the corner of my eye. I looked over and found her doing a bold, little pee dance. Her previous shyness was largely gone, replaced with her usual confidence.
	I laughed. “I can't believe you're actually still holding it”
	She made a face like she wanted to laugh but couldn't. “The sound of the creek is making it worse.”
	“Isn't it uncomfortable?” I asked. “If not the feeling, then just knowing I could burst at any moment would be enough to make me give up.”
	“It's not uncomfortable,” she said, shuffling lightly from foot to foot. “It actually... feels kinda good.”
	“It feels good?” I asked, my eyebrows pursed. 
	“Yeah. Like, it's a pleasant sensation. And knowing I could burst at any moment... but knowing I [i] probably  [/i]won't.... Well, that's... just kind of a rush.”
	My eyebrows rose and then relaxed. “Wow.”
	“Why wow?” She asked blushing, still going from foot to foot. “Is that weird?”
	“Weird? Maybe, a little....” 
	She frowned at me, looking a bit hurt this time. 
	“...But it's not bad! Weird, but not bad-weird. It's actually kinda... cool.”
	“It's... cool?” She pressed.
	“Yes, I mean, it's kinda lucky? You don't have worry about peeing yourself really cause you enjoy the rush, and you don't have to worry about getting stuck with a painfully full bladder because you enjoy holding it.”
	“I don't exactly like peeing myself. I mean, I'm not... disgusted by it, and I used to do it as a kid cause like, I guess it was warm?” She stopped the pee dance and crossed her legs. “But it's still messy and really embarrassing at the wrong time. So sometimes things don't... really work out great. But, the second is all true. I do kinda like getting caught with a full bladder. Sometimes I'll plan it, but I like it better when I don't.”
	I blinked heavily and swallowed, trying to process everything I'd just heard and decide on an appropriate response. “What do you mean it's messy and embarrassing [i] sometimes [/i]? I mean, I remember you pissing yourself a few times as a kid, but like.... Does it still happen?” I turned to face her, but she kept staring straight ahead.
	“...Sometimes....” It took her a moment to speak and she paused for awhile like she were suddenly embarrassed, but she continued on after a few moments of silence. “I mean, I have a lot of mini-accidents, I guess. Those are pretty common, but I don't usually pee myself completely. That's only occasionally.”
	[i] Accidents are  [/i]only [i] occasional?  [/i]I thought, astonished.[i]  Mini-accidents are 'pretty common?' [/i]
[i] 	What have I been missing all these years.... [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“So accidents do happen then? As in, like, decently often?”
	“I wouldn't call them 'decently often,' but... yes, I do have accidents sometimes. To.. .varying degrees. I'll be sure to tell you about them some time. I'd tell you about one right now, but....” She uncrossed her legs, put a hand to her crotch in dramatic fashion, and did a hip swaying pee dance. “I'm a little distracted.”
	“Sure.” I said, swallowing. “I'll remember to ask about it.”
	She looked over at me for a moment, but I was too amazed to look back. After a few moments of standing there, I started moving forward, toward the bank of the creek. I kicked my shoes off and tore off my socks and stepped into the clear water, wading ankle deep. “Wanna join me?” I asked, extending my hand to Daisy.
	She bit her bottom lip and looked down, as if she were checking with her bladder to make sure it was okay. “Yeah, I think that'll be fine.” She stepped into the water and we went a few steps deeper.
	We stood like that for awhile, Daisy squirming and shuffling back and forth, myself standing still, taking in the ambiance. I took a step forward, and then another. I kept taking steps until I was almost up to my knees in water. I turned around and regarded Daisy.
	She was still dancing, but now she had a hand planted between her legs, pressing tightly into the dress, pulling it up almost high enough to see her bikini. The dance itself had also changed. Before it had seemed like a pattern, a steady back-and-forth, but now it seemed more improvised and necessary. The motions were calculated and gentle, like her legs had shook back when she was still sitting on the ground, yet they were erratic and somewhat unnatural, like her legs lifting and her torso leaning a bit forward to ease the pressure off her bladder.
	“I'm surprised you haven't gone yet,” I said with some amusement. “It looks like it's getting uncomfortable even for you.”
	“Honestly,” she said, her voice tense. “This is the best part.”
	I blinked heavily and swallowed.
	“But, I probably am gonna go soon.” She continued. “It's getting to that point where I'm afraid I might burst.”
	“Why don't you just let go?” I asked “You're already in a bikini, r-right? We can just swim after and wash it off.”
	“About that.... I don't particularly want to get wet.”
	I cocked a brow. “If you don't want to get wet, why wear a bathing suit?”
	“Uh, well, I planned on wearing a bathing suit, but...” I could see her blushing. Blushing harder than she normally did. “I kinda forgot to change my bra? So I'm... in my underwear... kinda?”
	“You... forgot to change your bra?”
	“Yeah,” she smiled shyly. “It just kinda slipped my mind and before I knew it I was already on my way here.”
	[i] She seems surprisingly embarrassed over this.... Which is weird, because it doesn't seem like a very big deal, and I haven't' seen her stop dancing around or remove her hand from her crotch for several minutes. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“Well, what's the big deal? Isn't a bra basically the same thing?”
	She smiled. “I can see which side you argued for in your little school debates about women's underwear.”
	I half-rolled my eyes. “I get panties are a little thinner than a bikini and like, they don't cover things quite as well, I guess, but how is a [i] bra  [/i]any different? Aren't all bras padded? Or... at least kinda thick?”
	She bit her lip and moved her butt back and forth in a slow, meticulous moment. “Kinda, but they're usually a little more revealing, and not all bras are thick. Few are thick as a bikini top And... I think it'll sag if it gets filled with water.”
	I nodded slowly, in understanding. “I... see.”
	“You see what?”
	“It's because you don't want me to see you in a bra.”
	She made an indolent expression. “Well, it's more... [i] this  [/i]bra in particular. It's kind of revealing.” A mischievous smile crossed her lips. “You may have earned the right to stare at me in bikini bottoms, but you sure haven't earned the right to see most of my bare tits.”
	“This... sounds like one hell of a bra.”
	“It would make you a man.”
	This time it was my turn to laugh. “Alright, fine then, if you're not going to swim with me, then at least wade out a little further.”
	She danced a little more fervently. “I... think I can handle that. I don't want to go far, though, cause my dress might get wet and then it would smack against me on the whole walk back. The only thing worse than being soaking wet is having half your body and clothes soaking wet.” She took a few steps deeper into the surf.
	[i] I'm sure you know something about that...  [/i]I thought. [i] Accidents are only  [/i]occasional.
[i] 	“ [/i]Oh, come on, the Daisy I know isn't such a baby.”
	“You're the one crying about not being able to go swimming.”
	I snorted. “Okay, so, what you're telling me is if your dress gets wet you won't have anything left to worry about, right?” I splashed a bit of water in her direction. Her eyes widened with vehemence and stepped back.
	“Don't you dare.”
	I splashed a little more water.”
	“Seriously, Jacob, I'll be really pissed off if you do that.”
	I laughed. “I'm just messing with you; I'm not actually gonna splash you. Just a little revenge for earlier.”
	She frowned. “You're evil.”
	“How about this,” I rubbed my chin contemplatively. “You tie the bottom portion of your dress up past your waist. Then you won't have to worry about it.”
	She looked down at her shuffling body and weaving dress, as if considering the matter. She looked up with suspicion. “Ahh, so this is why you wanted me to go deeper into the water.... You just wanna see my bikini again.”
	I blushed a bit and smiled involuntarily. “You make it sound so bad.”
	She gave me a dead-pan look. This turned to a look of exasperation, and then to a look of amusement. “...Fine. I'll [i] humor [/i] you.” She reached down and pulled up her dress. She bundled it into one mass of fabric, pulled it straight, and then did her best to tie it around her waist.
	My eyes slid down her body. I could see her from the lower belly all the way down to the toes. I could see where her thighs bulged out the slightest bit, and I could see the line of the bikini traveling up the grooves formed by her legs and inner pelvis. The bikini fit her perfectly by my standards, but judging by how it pressed a bit into her skin, it was possibly, technically, the slightest bit too small.
	“Happy?” She said, taking a few steps forward. “You're such a kid.”
	“Oh?” I said, as she moved next to me. “If appreciating this makes me a kid, then so be it.”
	We stood there for a few moments, embracing the calm atmosphere of the woods before I spoke again.
	“Plus,” I began. “Would a kid come up with an idea as good as this?” 
	A moment of silence passed. 
	“What pl-” She began the motion of turning to face me, but my hand moved for her butt. I was too nervous to smack it, so instead I pinched the plump of the right cheek lightly with my whole hand, letting it slide out as I pulled away.
	Her waist pushed forward in shock while the rest of her body remained stationary, though visibly tense. She gasped and reached for her groin out of pure reflex. The other hand, not knowing what to do, pressed tightly against her side. A moment after the pinch, she pulled her waist back and leaned in a bit, grimacing as she struggled to keep control over her bladder.
	“Jacob!” She hissed at me. “What was that for?” There was a lot of surprise on her face, legitimate surprise, but there was also that familiar shock, the sort that looked serious, but needed only a few moments to show it's ultimate, playful nature.
	I just laughed.
	“Wow!” She said, her cheeks flushed. She tried to contain it, but I saw the momentary smile that passed her lips. “You tried to get me to piss myself!”
	“Piss yourself?” I feigned confusion. “No, no, I just wanted to see if I could make you jump forward.... You know, into the water? So we could swim? If your clothes were wet....” My voice trailed off.
	She looked at me with heavy skepticism.
	“Also, you say I [i] tried [/i] to get you to piss yourself—as if you totally just didn't.”
	She looked at me with surprise and mild offense. “I did not piss myself.”
	“I think you did. I saw the way you reacted. That was not how somebody who didn't piss themselves reacts.”
	She blushed and pouted. “I did not.” She reached down with a hand to check her bikini. She then leaned forward, her eyebrows pursed, to inspect the damage. She pulled the bikini up as high and as tight as she could and tried to bend over to see it. After a moment of close inspection, she called out.
	“See! Look! I only lost a couple drops you can't even see a mark.” She turned toward me and partially angled her uplifted crotch in my direction, so I could get a better view.
	I was so shocked by the spectacle it took me a moment to react. I kneeled down, heart pounding against my chest. I looked at the bottoms and found them almost completely dry, with the exception of a faint wet mark about one inch in width and two inches in length. 
	This hastily assumed position involved her half on her toes, her pelvis pointed out, and her legs wide spread. I saw her thighs jiggling haltingly, and when I looked up, I found her holding a tight frown.
	“Hmm,” I said, as coolly as I could manage. “What am I looking for?”
	“The mark....” She said through gritted teeth. “Can you see? It's barely visible! I didn't pee myself.”
	“Are you sure? Are you talking about this mark? Because this looks pretty-”
	“-Ugh!” Daisy went flat on her feet and pulled her pelvis back in. She snapped her legs closed and slid a hand between them to keep herself under control. “Damn, that made me leak more!” She pouted at me, red-faced, embarrassed, and playfully outraged. “You did that on purpose!”
	“Well, you're the one who threw her vagina in my face. I was just making lemonade.”
	“Ugh, damn....”
	“And it looks like I'm not only one making lemonade. You seem to be next in line.”
	“Yeah. If I stay in here any longer I'm gonna pee in my bikini. Especially if I stay near [i] you.” [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]I laughed. “Alright, fine. Let's get out.”
	“I'm really closing to losing control....” she mumbled, using both hands to squeeze her pussy. “I'm [i] really  [/i]lucky I didn't piss myself just then, and kinda surprised too, but... I think I can make it behind a tree. And if I walk carefully, maybe without even having a mini-accident. Maybe a leak or two when I spread my-”
	And then my foot slipped.
	There was the sound of my pitiful, helpless yell, and then the splash of me falling into the water, completely drenching my clothes. I went under the surface for an instant, and when I came back up, I caught sight of Daisy, shocked, turning around look at me. And as I struggled back onto my feet, blinking the water out of my eyes, I watched that shock turn to a sudden fit of laughter.
	It was strange watching involuntary amusement take over her face, and half a second before the initial laugh seeing that look of 'oh no' encroaching up behind it. One hand had involuntarily reached out to grab me, although there'd been no chance of getting me. The other had gone to her mouth, presumably in shock at first, but probably immediately after to help stop the laugh.
	Awe and panic and resistance all crossed her amused face. Her body tightened and a hand jumped to her groin, but stopped at the space where her upper thighs met her crotch, without sliding between her legs. The laughter faded for a moment as a yellow-tinted liquid appeared against her white flesh. Her legs were so tight it pushed forward and ran down the fronts of her thighs. 
	She was staring down at her own legs now, watching her own accident, watching the piss shoot out of her completely independent of her will. Her lips spread in shock, shocked that one moment she'd been mumbling about making it, and next she was actually listening to the hiss of piss surging into her bikini.
	After about three-seconds of full-force pissing herself, Daisy spread her legs, turning the wall of urine running down her thighs and trickling into the water below into a powerful waterfall that splattered down into the creek and ran down her inner legs in rivulets.
	She looked up at me, still open jawed, still mystified. Her look was a little less shocked now and a little more like a kid who had done something they didn't mean to and weren't supposed to, but were secretly excited by the prospect of seeing happen—like accidentally knocking down their dad's painstakingly assembled dominoes and watching them all tumble in order.
	The hissing sound was the most surprising thing. I'd never even known that piss could hiss through clothing like that. The [i] shrshrshrshr  [/i]noise had been faint, but audible when she'd first started going—in fact, I'd heard the piss a split second before I saw it—but with her legs spread it was almost louder than the splattering of piss as it poured into the stream. 
	After about 7 seconds, her shock contorted into a sort of relief, and then almost a mild humor.
	“I'm pissing myself...” she mumbled, her face turning red with a mixture of embarrassment and relief. “I said I wasn't going to... but I completely lost control... Oh my god....”
	The power of her stream was impressive, that much could be evidenced by the sheer volume of its splashing and loud hissing. It didn't surprise me when the stream slowed a bit after about ten seconds of powerful pissing, but it did surprise me when it slowed down more and more, until it was just a slow stream, nearly a trickle, running out of her. The actual bulk of her urine had been expelled in under 15 seconds, and most of that in only 10, and that had been a full bladder.
	[i] Not only does she like holding her piss, but she also has a small bladder.... [/i]
[i] 	Jackpot. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“Well....” She said, turning away from me to look back down at her bikini. She went on her toes and leaned forward to inspect the damage, showing me the damage as well, little bits of piss still dribbling down her legs and straight into the water from the sopping bikini. “I definitely pissed myself.”
	“Yeah....”I said, still taken aback by the suddenness of it all. “I noticed.”
	“And somehow you ended up wetter than me.” She looked back at me and sighed. “What now?”
	“You could... rinse them off.” I suggested. “Otherwise you're gonna have to walk back with piss between your legs.”
	“True. But if I get them any wetter, my dress will rub against them while we walk and get wet. And I don't particularly want to walk through the woods with my whole bottom half exposed.”
	I swallowed. “You could... always just walk like that? It's not that far of a walk.”
	She chuckled. “You wish. You'll have to get me to have a real accident before I'll do that.”
	“That seemed pretty real to me,” I answered back.
	“Nah,” she said, coolly. “I mean like in pants or something. Not in a bikini. Pissing in a bikini doesn't count.”
	“Sure, whatever you say....” My eyes scanned her again, took in her beautiful legs and the perfect bikini with the big wet patch on the bottom. I thought about the difference between a swimsuit and underwear again, and about how in the right light, there wasn't much of a difference at all....
	“I guess I don't have a choice.” She turned around and walked to the shore. Without a word she began to untie her dress from her waist. Before letting the bottom fall back down, she lifted the whole thing up over her head.
	My eyes ran along her back, from the hem of her bikini up past her black bra strap to her exposed neck and shoulders. She walked over to the rock and placed the dress on it, before turning around and approaching me.
	My eyes jumped to her chest. My first thought, from the distance I was at, was that she'd exaggerated the skimpiness of her bra. What I had pictured had been something akin to Leia in Star Wars when she'd been held prisoner by Jabba the Hut, but what I got seemed like a fairly normal bra. It wasn't until she got closer that I was able to make out the fine black lace and I could see that the cups did not hug her entire breasts, but rather sat there and were filled with the ends of her breasts, and even then with some transparent lace on top.
	She got into the water and faced me, blushing the slightest bit. “Looks like you win. You got to see me piss myself and you got to see my bra.”
	“For what it's worth, I don't feel anymore like a man than I did before.”
	She smiled. And then she splashed me.
	“Hey!”
	“Don't cry about it. You're already we-”
	I splashed her back, high enough to get her hair wet, enough to splash her breasts with water.
	She looked at me with mild annoyance. She went forward into the water until she was up to her neck. “I'll get you back for that,” she promised.
	I just smiled and swam into the deep end to join her. We spent a fair amount of time just swimming around, seeing how long we could hold our breaths and seeing how far we could dive down, seeing if we could touch the creek bed.
	After awhile, we somehow worked our way into a game of marco polo. She was smaller and more graceful and a far stronger swimmer, but she would always get too confident. Toward the end of our last game, she got backed against the roots of a felled tree, and even though my eyes were closed, I could tell by feeling my surroundings and recognizing them how to keep her there.
	It's over, I thought. I swam forward, now close enough to feel the ripples in the water when she moved. “Marco!”
	There was stillness and a hesitation. “...Polo.” She said rapidly, trying to swim past me.
	I reached out and grabbed her, one hand on her back the other wrapping around something soft and squishy, yet strangely textured. The bottom part felt like cotton and had most of the intricate texture, while the top part was smooth and warm and gave way under my touch. She gasped and pulled away from me.
	I immediately knew what I'd grabbed.
	I opened my eyes and saw myself releasing her half naked breast. She pushed back away from me blushing intensely. “You pervert!” She called out, sounding half like she were a child again.
	“Not at all. If you hadn't tried escaping, I wouldn't have accidentally grabbed your breast.”
	“'Accidentally,' huh? I bet you peeked.”
	“No.”
	“How else could you have caught me? I'm so much faster than you.”
	“Not fast enough.”
	She frowned. A moment later, she pushed a massive wave of water at me. I covered my eyes.
	“Told ya I'd get you back.” She said, finishing her gloat moments before I retaliated.
	We sent massive swaths of water flying at one each other. At first, it seemed an even match, but it soon became apparent I had the advantage. She started to shield her eyes and her waves got weaker. 
	[i] You may have beaten me in marco polo, but you can't beat me in this. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]Finally, she flipped around and swam away, going under the surface and rising back up. I turned away from the huge surges of water her flailing feet had kicked at my face and blinked heavily.
	“Shit!” She called out.
	I turned my head and found her standing there in collar deep water, her bare breasts covered by an arm, the other hand clutching her loose bra.
	“Oh wow.”
	“I told you it wasn't meant for swimming!” She turned around and uncovered herself. She ran for the shore but in her haste her bikini bottoms had fallen a bit too. She stopped when the water was just below her crotch and crossed her legs, in a poor attempt to stop the bikini from falling any further. It had slipped about halfway down her butt, leaving her almost stark naked.
	With deft speed she put on the bra, and when her hands were free again pulled up the renegade bikini. She turned back toward me, blushing heavier than I'd seen in years. “Okay, that's enough of that. I think I'm all clean now. Time to head back.”
	“Aww.” I swam toward the shore.
	She shook her head. “Just like a kid.”
	I watched as she put her dress back on, right over the wet clothes. It was white, so I could see her bra and the back of her bikini plainly through it on the walk back. According to her this was somehow preferable to being half-wet and having it 'smack' against her as she walked. I didn't entirely understand it, but I was more than happy to see her chest through the thin white fabric whenever she turned around.
	I ogled her as we made the long walk back. I felt more than satisfied with how the day had gone, and was more than happy to stare at her butt, thinking it would be the end of things until tomorrow. However, when we got to about the halfway mark, Daisy extended her legs to take a particularly big step to step of a branch. I thought I saw something glimmer between her legs as she did it, but the moment she'd cleared the branch she went completely still.
	“What's wrong?” I asked, looking down at her legs, where I'd seen the glimmer of light.
	“Give me a second.” Before she even finished speaking, urine cascaded down her legs. She grabbed her dress and pulled it up past her legs to protect it from the hissing piss. 
	She spread her legs, at first a bit, and then a bit more. It helped direct some of the urine into a waterfall down the center like during her first accident, but now more was going down her legs, and even before the posture chance, a decent amount had made it onto her thighs. After several seconds of this, she squatted, to protect the still dry parts of her shoes. I watched as urine poured down the bottom of her butt, splattering into the dirt below, hissing against the bikini until the last moment.
	When the urine slowed to a trickle, she stood up, the residual urine in the bikini overflowing and running down the backs of her thighs. “Sorry, couldn't hold it.”
	“Wow...” I said, in shock. “Did you just... piss yourself again?”
	“Kinda, yeah. It was bad.”
	“It was? But... how? How could it have gotten that bad so fast?”
	“Swimming always makes it worse,” she said, beginning to walk again. “And I drank a lot of the creek water while we were in there—you know, since it's clean and fresh.”
	“You must have drank an awful lot.... It looked like that caught you off guard. Was it as bad as it was by the creek? Or did it just sneak up on you?”
	“A little bit of a both?” She said, stepping over another branch, this time doing it without pissing. “Like, I had to go pretty bad. Bad enough to make me leak when I tried to take that step, but I wasn't trying as hard to hold it in.” She paused for a moment, and then continued. “Like I felt it start coming out and just let it. I didn't fight it or anything.”
	“I'm just... surprised. You didn't even try to go for a tree or anything like that....”
	“I could have made a run for it, but I probably would have just wet my socks and shoes more than I already have. Why bother? It's not like I was gonna to pull down a wet bikini just to piss anyway. It's not a big deal; I do it all the time.”
	I just stared at her as we walked, unsure of what to say.
	“Why are you so shocked? It's nothing new. I used to do pretty much the same when we were kids.”
	“Yeah, but... that was a long time ago. Plus, I had no idea you had to piss until you leaked. You weren't showing it at all. And at the creek you were saying how you'd have to have a real accident, or something like that, to walk home in wet clothes. I think I'm in my rights to be a bit shocked.”
	“I was showing it, a bit. You just don't have an eye for the subtle stuff. And like I said, I wasn't really trying very hard. I only do the super obvious stuff when I'm actually trying to keep it from coming out. There was no reason to fidget here. Even if I had wanted to I wouldn't have been able to make it home. And as for the real accident thing, I meant if we're... by the Tree or something and I pee my pants then okay, I don't have a choice, but if we're by the creek and I wet myself it's not really a big deal. I can just wash off. That's all I meant. Plus, I'm already in a wet bikini. I don't even need to wash it out; this is what they're made for.”
	I wasn't so sure on that last point, but I wasn't going to argue with it. I just followed behind, mystified, suddenly unsure of what would happen next. One of half of me was happy watching the outline of bikini sway with every step, now wet with more than just water from the creek, but another half was poised, ready for something unpredictable and entirely 'Daisy' to occur.

	
	
		Chapter 4: The Attic

	I woke up the next morning thinking of Daisy. Never before had I been so excited about chores. Assuming her offer the day before hadn't just been blowing smoke, she'd be over soon to help.
	I went downstairs for breakfast like usual. I sat with my grandmother and discussed what needed to be done. She was pleased that I both remembered the chores and made no attempt to get out of them. She regaled me with a brief story about my mom, who apparently hated doing chores.
	After that, she told me what needed to be done. The first and foremost chore was cleaning the attic, something she absolutely could not do given her age, and something that had been left undone for many years. I pleased her again by saying I was happy to do it.
	[i] I'd be happy to clean out dead rats from underneath the house if I got to do it with Daisy. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]After breakfast I eyed the clock and headed for the attic latter. [i] Any minute,  [/i]I thought, pulling it down. 
	As if on cue, the moment I put my foot on the first rung there was a knock on the door. I rushed to answer it.
	“Morning,” I said, my eyes looking her up and down in an unintentionally bold way.
	“Morning....” She responded wryly. She looked me up and down just like I had her, though in an even more obvious fashion.
	“Sorry,” I said, smiling nervously. “Your shoes are nice. I couldn't help but look.”
	She snorted. “My shoes, huh?”
	I invited her inside and she followed. Daisy was wearing a pair of long, tight, blue jeans that clung to her in ways that shouldn't have been legal. Her top was a white, low-cut blouse. It clung to her as tightly as the jeans, pressing into your breasts, making the outline of her bra strap visible through the shirt, but it also came down low, exposing a fair amount of cleavage.
	Whenever I looked down, all I saw was her plump butt and thick thighs and her hips which seemed just the slight bit wider than would have normally been on her body type, and when I looked up, her boobs were staring me in the face.
	[i] It's going to be difficult remaining calm today....  [/i]I thought, half-excited, half-nervous.
	It was strange, even after all we'd done together, after all the embarrassment we'd shared in the last few days, after having rekindled years of friendship, I still felt a drive to impress her. A nervous energy that told me not to say anything stupid—or least not [i] too  [/i]stupid.
	“So we're doing the attic, huh?” She asked, standing akimbo and looking up the latter.
	“Yeah, apparently she wants me to throw away everything up there except family stuff. You know, like photos and that kinda thing.”
	“Throw away everything? How much is everything? How big is your attic?”
	“Climb on up and find out.” I offered, gesturing toward the latter.
	She looked up into the attic again, skeptically, and then put her hands on the latter and her foot on the bottom rung. “Let's see what we got here.”
	She started climbing and when she got to where her head was poking in through the roof, I put my foot on the bottom rung and looked up. I jolted in surprise, having somehow forgotten about the minor detail of her ass being one foot away from my face.
	[i] These jeans....  [/i]I thought, taken aback. [i] They fit her... so well.  [/i]Any pair of jeans her size would have form-fit her body to a degree, but these seemed as if they made her ass bigger, more jiggly, more [i] voluptuous. [/i] The denim even creased a bit with her flesh just below the cheek, like it was holding them in place.
	The only downside to the view was that it was 90 degrees above me.
	“Holy hell!” She said, her head turning back and forth. “This thing is huge!”
	“Hurry up.” I called out. “I'm getting dizzy down here staring at your butt.” I realized this would  have been a perfect moment to smack her on the ass, but I chickened out.
	She climbed into the attic and started speaking before I even got my head past the ceiling.
	“This thing is [i] so  [/i]big. It has it's own floor and everything.”
	“Does your attic not have a floor?” I asked.
	“No, just insulation. And it isn't anywhere [i] close  [/i]to being this big. This is like.... a studio apartment in the city!”
	I laughed and stood up, but I had to keep my head crooked to the side to keep from hitting the roof. “I don't think it's quite that big.”
	“No, I'm serious. Look at this thing. Like it's absolutely filled with stuff, but once we clear it out, you'll know what I mean.”
	“I know what you mean,” I said, grabbing a box and blowing some dust off it. “I just don't think it's that big.--Plus, you're forgetting, I played in here before it was completely filled with crap.”
	“Crap?” She asked, mildly alarmed. “Oh, that is where you're wrong, you sweet, young, naive child. I can accept the stuff about the attic not being big, but this is definitely not 'crap.'”
	“This is literally a box of old paper.” I said, tilting it toward her. “This couldn't be crappier if it was literal feces. See? There isn't even anything written on it.”
	“Yes, maybe the untrained eye sees paper. [i] City eyes  [/i]see paper. But to someone who knows not where to look, but [i] how  [/i]to look.... This is a box of memories.”
	I laughed again. “This might be a good time to tell you that you're free to take anything in here that you want.”
	She stood up and looked around the attic. “Like a kid in a candy store....”
	We both started on different sides of the attic. She gravitated toward the back, toward the 'real gems' as she'd called them, and went toward the larger stuff by the window. Every few moments I'd have to turn around to shove something into one my garbage bags, and every time I did, I caught Daisy in a new, equally compromising position.
	Toward the beginning, she sat cross-legged facing away from me. The first thing I saw upon turning around was that her shirt had risen up exposing her lower back, while her jeans had been pulled down, exposing the top of her panties. Peaking up just above the hem of the denim was a soft, gray, elastic strip that said 'JANES' on it, and below that the beginning of dark blue fabric covered in some kind of pattern.
	Soon after that she called me over to look at something. It was an old trinket, certainly interesting, but hard to focus on, as she remained in her sitting position while I loomed over her. And if that wasn't bad enough, she held the trinket next to her breasts. I could see between them and the entire tops, and even a bit down the front of them, toward the inside of the bra by her nipples—though I couldn't quite see the nipples or the areolas.
	And then I heard her complain. A quick explicative. I'd known by the sound and by half-glancing back when I went to throw things in the bag that she was now standing and reaching over the various boxes and obstacles to get things from the back, so it was partially my fault when I heard her curse again and turned completely around to find her butt a foot away from my face again. At some point she'd shimmied over to my side and had her butt nearly against the back of my head. After a second of surprised staring at her groin area, she cursed again.
	“Damn it! If I don't get this thing soon I'm gonna start pissing.”
	I looked at her butt for a few more seconds.
	[i] She's been over for less than twenty minutes and I've already seen part of her panties, 80% of her boobs, an up-close view of her butt, thighs, and groin more than once— [/i]and [i] she's already complained about needing to pee.... [/i]
[i] 	I think this is going well. [/i]
	In an act of sudden inspiration, not knowing what else to say or do, I reached out and smacked her ass. She gasped and her body jolted in shock. Her feet spread but her thighs came together in awkward fashion.
	“You dick!” She called out, pushing herself back over the piles of attic rubbish into a standing position. “Of all the times to smack my ass....” She grumbled.
	“Bad timing?” I asked, wryly. 
	Her cheeks darkened even more. “No,” she said. “It'll take more than that to make me piss myself.”
	“Oh?” I asked. 
	“Yeah. And I know that's what you were trying to do. This time it was only a leak, though.”
	I laughed. She pouted.
	“Don't laugh! It was only a drop anyways. You wouldn't even be able to see it. Like, if I showed you, you'd see nothing.”
	“If you... showed me?” I tried to remain calm and cool, but my throat tightened from the sudden mention of unmentionables. “Uh, how about your prove it then?”
	“What? By showing you my panties?”
	“...I don't know how else you'd prove it.”
	She cocked an eyebrow. “You wish.”
	I shrugged and she just shook her head.
	“You're an even bigger pervert than I remember.” She turned around and headed back toward the giant pile she was leaning over before.
	[i] Didn't you just say you were about to piss your pants...? Does she even have to piss, or is she just messing with me? Maybe it was the position? [/i]
	“What's that supposed to mean? I asked, feigning offense. “When was I a perv?”
	“You say like that it wasn't [i] totally  [/i]obvious you were always looking up my skirt back in the day.”
	I blushed a bit and paused. “...It... wasn't [i] that  [/i]obvious.”
	She turned around and gave me a look.
	“It's not like you made it easy on me.”
	“Did I make it hard?” She turned back to the pile and started to arrange the objects—this time starting with the items in front instead of leaning forward.
	“How do I say this.... You weren't exactly modest....”
	“-Are you calling me a hoe?”
	“I'm not calling you a [i] hoe.  [/i]I'm saying you weren't... afraid. Like, you weren't afraid.”
	“Afraid to be a hoe, you mean?”
	“No! No, no, I just mean, like... um....”
	“I'm just messing with you.” She laughed. “Oh. Don't make me laugh.”
	I watched her ass move back and forth as she sifted through the odds and ends.
	[i] So she does have to pee.... And as usual, she's holding it. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“But yeah, I'm just screwing with you,” she went on. “I was just being a kid. Might have been hoe-y in the city, but out here the rules are different. I”m sure you know that better than me, though.”
	I cocked a mischievous eyebrow. “True, but you say 'back then.' What's different? If the rules are different how come you're so much more reserved now?”
	“Reserved?” She said back, slight appall in her voice. “What? You mean because I didn't show you my panties a minute ago?” She chuckled. “You sure are desperate, aren't you?”
	“...Not desperate,” I answered. “More curious.”
	“Curious of what?”
	“Curious if you really leaked. You didn't prove it after all.”
	She stopped and turned around, catching me as I stared at her butt. “Do you really not believe me?”
	“Uh... if I say no are you gonna take your pants off?” I laughed.
	“Nope. You wish.”
	“It would certainly make the chores more interesting....” She turned around and returned to the objects in the attic. “...But yeah, I suppose I believe you, but like... did that little tap really make you leak?”
	“That wasn't a tap. You smacked my ass and I wasn't expecting it.” She paused a moment, and then continued. “But yes, it really made me leak.”
	“Wow. You're sensitive.”
	“Like I said, it wasn't a lot. It was... just a few drops. A tiny leak.”
	“I'll have to remember to slap your ass more often then.” My cheeks reddened after saying this, and the ensuing silence did not help.
	She responded several seconds later. “You better be careful. More might come out next time.”
	“Yeah?” I asked. “And how much is 'more?'”
	She snickered. “Depends on when you slap my ass, I guess.” Daisy dropped another item into the pile at her feet. She eyed it for a minute, and then bent forward, slipping a hand gingerly between her legs as she did it. She used her free hand to get the pile ready, and then pulled her other hand from her groin, half-squatted, and scooped it up. When she stood back up, she crossed her legs and stood there for a moment.
	She walked toward the garbage bag next to me, balancing the items against her stomach. “Honestly, if I had to go bad enough and I wasn't paying attention, slapping my ass would probably make me lose control. At least for a few seconds.” She looked right at me as I held the garbage bag open for her. “Wouldn't be the first time.”
	“You mean... someone has made you piss by slapping your ass before?” I asked tentatively, not sure which answer I wanted to hear.
	“No. I mean it wouldn't be the first time I've lost control.”
	I swallowed. “You say that like it happens a lot....”
	She was mostly turned away, but I saw her make a face. “Not [i] a lot.  [/i]But... yeah, sometimes. Like I said, I like holding it, and sometimes that gets me into trouble. And other times I just can't hold it.”
	“So, uh, that's pretty funny.”
	She glanced back and smiled. “Funny, huh? You aren't laughing, though.”
	“Um, well, y-yeah. You'd have to tell me a funny story to make me laugh.”
	She stopped sorting. “A funny story? You mean a story about a time I've pissed my pants?”
	“Yeah.” I replied, my cheeks on fire. “One of these elusive times you lost control. But you know, a funny one.”
	She turned around to face me. The moment she did, I realized she had a land between her legs again.
	[i] Is it really that bad? She has to hold herself and she's just sorting stuff like it's no big deal? If she pees her pants in my attic.... I mean I won't mind, but that's a bigger deal than in the woods through a swimsuit. [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]“Well....” she said, looking down at the floor bashfully, her lips contorting into a smile. “I do have one story that I have to admit is pretty silly.”
	“Really?”
	“Yeah, but... um...” She looked down and shifted her hips a bit. Her thighs grinded together and her weight went back and forth between her feet. “I'm about to show you the story of how a girl pissed her pants in your attic. I should probably go pee first.”
	I frowned. “You can't just leave me hanging. We were just getting to the good part.”
	“You say that like I'm gonna take an hour.”
	“Any time is too long. It will ruin the ambiance.”
	“Um, well....” She looked back down at her shuffling legs. “...I... suppose I could hold it. Yeah, I think I can hold it for a quick story, but if I stand here it's gonna leak down my legs.” She kneeled down and shifted until she was sitting with her knees on the floor, one foot bent a bit to the side so she could press it into her crotch. “Dang, it's bad. Almost leaked kneeling down.” She laughed.
	“Wow, it got bad really fast.” I said
	“I drank a ton of tea this morning. Probably too much. And honestly, I kinda had to pee when I left the house.”
	“You had to go before you even left...?”
	“Well, yeah,” she said, her cheeks darkening a bit, like a child caught doing something they weren't supposed to. “I told you before it feels kinda... good when I hold it. I just thought I'd be able to hold it longer.”
	“Oh.” We sat in silence for a few moments. I wanted to say something to keep the conversation going, to distract her as much as I could before her story, but my mind went blank.
	“Anyway, super quick before I explode. So I was in school at the time, and I was in one of those classes where you're never ever allowed to leave, right? So normally I pee before class, but for some reason I didn't this time. I think I was talking to my friend or something and I just decided to hold it. It was really dumb to do.... The sort of thing that's caused accidents for me before, so I should have known better.” She laughed. “But I decided to risk it. I thought 'what the hell, I can hold it. I'll just make a run for it as soon as the bell rings.' It was the same thing I always thought before I decided to hold it.”
	“How bad was it?”
	“Before class? It... wasn't super bad? I wasn't dancing around or anything, but waiting an hour—especially with the way I hydrate—was a risk. I just wanted to talk to my friend, and plus, I knew the longer I waited the better it would feel. Holding it in school was something I tried to get over, but....” She smiled sheepishly. “It was just too tempting. I hydrate constantly so I constantly had to pee, and once I held it for a bit, I'd get the urge to hold it longer, until it eventually became impossible to avoid. And of course, the more I gotta go the better it feels so....” She shrugged.
	“So you like to hold it as long as possible? Even in school? Where a lot of people could see you... um... you know....”
	“Pee my pants?” She said the words as if they were light, but every time I tried to say them they felt heavy against my tongue. “Yes. I said it wasn't smart.... And like, I tried to stop, but I just... kept doing it. Every time I'd piss myself or have a close call I'd just end up holding it again.” Her back straightened and she squirmed a bit. She leaned forward. My eyes inadvertently went to the cleavage of her heavy breasts.
	“Wait a second, how many times did you piss yourself in school...?”
	“A few times. But seriously, it's really, really bad for some reason. I gotta finish this story or I'm gonna pee in your attic. So I'm sitting in class, right? And it's getting worse and worse by the second. I'm looking at the clock, but it's moving [i] so slow,  [/i]and I can tell it's gonna take too long. About halfway through class I raise my hand and ask to go, but the teacher tells me no, so I just put my hand down and curse under my breath.
	At this point my feet are kicking nonstop and I'm getting really close to using a hand. At the time I was convinced I was gonna have an accident, but I guess God was on my side or something because I [i] somehow  [/i]managed to hold it until the end. By the end I had my hand buried between my legs and I was leaned super far forward—kinda like I am now, actually—and I was afraid to move cause all my pee was like, ready to come out.”
	“Did you leak at all? I-I mean, I can imagine if you had to go that bad a little probably came out. I know if I was holding it that long I'd have probably leaked....”
	“Yeah. Over the last like, twenty minutes I felt my underwear getting wetter. Like it rubbed against me every time I moved. And I felt a couple of tiny drops come out. Around the last like, 5 minutes, I did have a major leak, though. I'm not sure if any got on my jeans, but there was probably at least a tiny drop. No idea if anyone noticed or not.”
	“So you think it was enough to go through your underwear?”
	“It was enough to soak my panties from my vagina to my butt. I think my panties managed to hold it all, but some might have overflowed when the leak happened. Panties can hold a surprising amount, but only if you pee slow....”
	She squirmed again and bit her lip. “Anyway! It's was the last five minutes and I was like, on the verge of peeing everywhere. When the bell rang I was the first out of my seat. I grabbed my backpack and nearly ran out of the room. Every step reminded me I'd wet my panties. I was a little worried my pants were wet, but honestly, I was pretty much completely focused on making it in time.” She smiled sheepishly.
	“So the halls filled up fast, and I was trying to duck through people, but I couldn't get them to [i] move.  [/i]I was extra in a hurry because the nearest bathroom was one of those teacher bathrooms, but they kept this one unlocked because the actual bathrooms were so far and it was so much faster if kids used it when they got excused during class. The only problem was that there was only one toilet, so if someone got there first, I was gonna have an accident for sure.”
	“You knew for a fact you wouldn't be able to make it to the other bathrooms in time?”
	“I didn't even know if I could make it to [i] that  [/i]bathroom in time. My panties were getting wetter with every step, and I was honestly praying I didn't explode right there in the hallway. So I moved as quickly as I could without losing control or running into someone and when I saw the door, I just bolted. I felt this weird twinge in my vagina, and a few moments later... I started to piss myself.” She laughed.
	I smiled back at her, and swallowed.
	“Thankfully, I was super close at this point and I was peeing pretty slowly. And even more thankfully the door was unlocked. If it had been locked, I'd have made a huge-”
	Daisy suddenly went silent. A moment later, she inhaled sharply and sneezed. 
	She sat there for a few moments after the sneeze, staring down at the attic floor, a look of confusion on her face. Then her eyes went wide. She looked at me, and her cheeks darkened.
	“Fuck.” She got to her feet and scurried toward the stairs leading out of the attic.
	My eyes immediately went to her ass. There was moisture on her blue jeans, a small line of wetness starting on her crotch and then extending down in a few uneven splotches to a small, circular spot between both of her butt cheeks. I looked down at the spot where she had been sitting and I found a tiny puddle, about an inch in diameter.
	I stared at the spot for several moments, before hopping to my feet and hurrying to the attic latter. I looked down and saw her darting away. I climbed down and followed after her.
	When I reached the floor, she was out of sight, but I saw light pouring into the hallway from the bathroom at the far end. I hurried in her direction, curious as to why the door was open.
	[i] If she had to pee so bad she'd piss herself from a sneeze, then wouldn't she need to pee the moment she made it to the bathroom...? Could she still be holding it? [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]When I approached the door, I heard it. I heard it before I peaked around the corner, but I told myself I hadn't. My initial thought was that I'd heard [i] something [/i], but that I didn't know what that something was. I walked in front of the open door as inconspicuously as I could.
	Daisy was sitting on the toilet, peeing forcefully into it. Her blue jeans were pulled down past her knees, but she was handling a pair of blue panties covered in some kind of childish design I couldn't make out from the distance. They were pulled up to her thighs, stretched out so she could examine the large wet spot that darkened the crotch.
	When I appeared, she looked over at me. Her body tightened a bit and her legs snapped shut, changing the sound of the liquid splashing in the bowl.
	“Sorry,” I said, reflexively, hiding behind the wall next to the door, listening closely to the sound of her pissing and replaying what I’d just seen in my head.
	“No, I'm sorry,” she said. “I didn't have time to close the door.”
	“That big of a hurry, huh?”
	“I was peeing before I got my pants undone.”
	“W-Wow.” I swallowed, glad she couldn't see the look on my face.
	“I'm amazed I didn't piss my pants going down the ladder. I did a little bit, but I think my panties caught most of it.”
	“How bad is the damage? Is it... really visible?”
	“It's... not too bad,” she said. “My panties are soaked, though. I'm definitely going to have to change.”
	“How bad are your pants?”
	At this point, her peeing started to come to a slow, pattering end. It had been a fairly powerful and decently long pee, but not long enough for someone who'd lost control.
	[i] She doesn't have the best control in the world, does she...? [/i]
	“Well, I felt some on my thighs when I got down the ladder and once I got into the bathroom I started to leak, so I was peeing pretty hard by the time I got my panties down.”
	I stood there, too shocked to move. Too flabbergasted to say anything. When her stream finally stopped, I waited for the sound of toilet paper ripping, but it never came. I heard the shuffling of clothes, and then the toilet flushed. “Okay, you can look now.”
	I turned the corner and found her standing there, still pulling up her jeans. They were at her thighs, but she quickly pulled them up to her butt, struggling a bit to fit her butt inside.
	She looked down at her own groin, going as far as to bend forward and pull the crotch of her jeans out as much as she could. Then she turned toward me and looked absently back over her shoulders and pushed out her butt to see if she could see the wet spot there. My eyes jumped to her legs. There was a patch there, about the size of a softball around her crotch, most of it hidden between her legs, but a bit extending down her thighs, and some of it extending forward for my viewing pleasure. 
	She turned around and tried to look over her shoulders again, aiming her butt toward the bathroom light, which gave me an excellent view of her behind. The wet spot there was the same as what I'd seen in the attic, a small patch extending to the base of her butt cheeks, but below that was even worse than the front. Some piss had rolled back off her panties and moved to travel down her legs. There were two strips of dark running sideways on her thighs, one extending down in a few narrow lines. It was the sort of pattern that was painfully obviously piss; the sorta of thing that no amount of spilling or sitting in wetness could ever replicate.
	“Yeah, I'm gonna have to change. I can feel it. Especially my panties. They're cold on my vagina.”
	I licked my bottom lip nervously. “Yeah, I can imagine. That's a lot of pee down there.”
	She frowned. “It's not [i] that  [/i]much. Just a little accident.”
	“A little one?” I pressed. “So you have bigger ones than this?”
	She smiled at me and cocked a brow. “Maybe. But if I do you'll have to wait and find out for yourself.” She moved toward me. “You should be pretty pleased. You got to see my wet panties after all.”
	I swallowed, and tried to pretend my face wasn't as red as it felt. “Y-Yeah, but I didn't get to see you wearing them. Only the wet spot.”
	“Oh? You got to see them as I was pulling up my pants, didn't you?”
	“Yes, but... that was just from the side. I didn't see the wet spot while you were in them.”
	She eyed me for a few moments, her expression curiously blank. “Aren't you a greedy one?” Her voice was low now.
	My heart pounded against my chest. “C-Can you blame me? Just look at you.”
	This made her smile, but only a small smile. “If I show you my panties, will you move and let me go change?”
	I was standing in the doorway, but she knew I'd have moved if she'd asked. But she'd never asked. She'd never even stepped forward to indicate she wanted to pass.
	I swallowed, hard, hard enough for her to hear. “Yeah.” I whispered back.
	Still eyeballing me, she reached for her jeans and undid the button. I heard the zipper go down slowly. I wanted to look down, to see her as she loosened her jeans, but her soft, sultry eyes held me with their gaze.
	“Check the hallway to make sure your grandma isn't out there.” She said, her voice low and slightly urgent now.
	I turned around and leaned back to peek my head out of the hallway. When I turned back, she'd pulled her jeans down a few inches, to the point I could see the beginning of her thighs peeking out, but not so low that I could see where the panties slipped under her and disappeared.
	I gaped at her, trying not to seem too awestruck.
	She pulled the jeans open wider, letting me see a good portion of her upper lower half, enough to see to just where the wet spot had risen. “Satisfied?” She asked, gingerly zipping them up and rebuttoning the pants. “You got to see my wet panties just like you wanted.”
	“I am satisfied,” I said, feeling a strange nervous exhaustion take hold of me.
	“Good.” She moved to pass me. “I'll be back in a few minutes. I’m going to change and maybe rinse myself a bit.... Oh, and Jacob?” She stopped next to me, only inches from my body, so close she had to look up to meet my eyes. She swallowed with uncharacteristic bashfulness and looked back at me with a serious, defenseless expression. “I'm not a hoe.”
	“Oh, I-”
	“-You're the only person I'd ever do this for. I know I mess around a lot, but... I just thought you should know that.” And with that, she moved down the hallway, down the stairs, and then went home to change.
	I returned to the attic and returned to sorting through the old goods. The next thirty minutes passed in a strange, nervous anxiety – a strangely [i] excit [/i][i] ing [/i][i] ,  [/i]anxiety. Images of her wet pants and panties kept flashing through my mind, and that was to say nothing of her in panties alone. They’d fit perfectly against her body, as if they were made for her. Almost as well the her jeans.
	When she did return, she came back up to the attic without any mention of earlier events or showing any obvious embarrassment at what had happened. I watched her enter, expecting a new pair of jeans to replace the old, but only found a pair of running shorts. The thin ones that could barely touch mid-thigh at their longest, yet were still considered publicly ‘decent.’
	I turned away, embarrassed. It was hard to look at her body after what I’d just seen. All I could think about was seeing more of it—both more of what had happened earlier as well as more of the body itself. Every time I looked over it seemed like I caught her in some other vaguely erotic position. Sometimes she’d be leaned over and I’d see her boobs dangling or her shorts would slide up the slightest bit. One time she was on her butt and had her knees in the air. She called my name and when I looked over, I found the shorts pulled tight against her crotch and the sides completely up to the tops of her thighs.
	Occasionally, the shorts even got compressed or moved to the side, flashing a brief bit of her panties. The shorts were thin enough to show the lines of her bikini panties clearly whenever she bent forward, but not enough to show the color of the panties through the fabric. Despite this, whenever the shorts got moved awkwardly, the miniature panty shots shone through boldly, as the panties were black and the shorts themselves were red (with the overdone white hems to give them that ‘running’ look).
	It wasn’t long until she dismissed herself to pee. I figured that after her surprise accident she’d be a bit more careful for a bit—at least, that’s what anybody else would have done. She had a history of being unusual, especially when it came to pee related things.
	It took me some time to build up the courage, but when she returned, I managed to ask the question I’d been ruminating on for some time, wondering if it was wise to ask, especially since I basically already knew the answer—just minus the details, which I desperately wanted to hear.
	“So you never told me the end of your story.” I said, not meeting her eyes.
	She looked at me in silence for a moment. “Oh. You mean the pee one?”
	“Yeah. You got… a little distracted toward the end there.” I chuckled and she chuckled back, blushing a bit.
	“’Distracted….’ Yeah, something like that. But, yeah, well, in the end I peed my pants obviously. I rushed into the bathroom and at that point I was like, already peeing myself, but the moment I got the door locked it really started to flow. Like, I ran for the toilet but I could already feel my legs getting wet.”
	She chuckled. “I actually remember reaching for the button of my jeans as I turned around, but I was peeing, like, pretty much full force, and knew it would take too long to get my pants down and all that…. I really didn’t want to make a big mess on the floor so I just kinda… sat down.”
	“You… sat down?”
	“Yeah, like, I just peed through my panties.”
	“So you managed to get the jeans down, but not your underwear?”
	“No, I peed through the jeans too,” she said, laughing. “It all happened so fast and I panicked. I mean, I was peeing so fast that the few seconds it would have taken to do my buttons and zipper and then pull them down would have been a disaster. Like, walking over to the toilet I literally heard that ‘srhrhrhr’ noise for a split second. I really burst.”
	I sat there silent for a minute, my face turning warm. “A n-noise? What do you mean?” 
	“It’s like… there’s this sound that pee makes when it comes out really, really fast into panties, or like, I guess any tight clothes. It’s like a hissing, but not like the regular hissing noise women sometimes make when they pee. Though, I guess sometimes you can hear both.” She laughed again. “I think it’s worse when the clothes are already wet, though…. Oh! You remember when I lost control in my swimming-suit?”
	I nodded. I had most definitely not forgotten.
	“It made the sound then. Like, really, really loud, cause it was a bikini. I guess it’s cause of the material or something…. Did you hear it?”
	“I… did.” I replied, feeling a bit overwhelmed by everything that was going on. “It was...” I swallowed.” It was loud. Was it that loud in the story?”
	“Not that loud, no, but I certainly heard it. It got louder when I sat down.”
	“So it continued? Like, when you were peeing through your pants on the toilet?”
	“Yeah, it always makes that noise when I pee myself on the toilet. At least when it’s bursting out. I’m not sure why, exactly. Maybe something about the position of my vagina? But it does it a lot when I’m standing too, so I dunno.”
	“…You say that like this kind of thing has happened before. Like, the peeing your pants on the toilet.” I shifted a bit, hiding my obvious arousal from her.
	“It has. Many times, actually. The urge gets worse once I get into the bathroom, and sometimes, if it’s bad enough, I start peeing too early and it’s not even worth pulling them down anymore. It usually happens in the morning, like if I drank a lot the night before or didn’t wake up to pee or just lied in bed and tried to hold it for too long. But thankfully I usually shower in the morning, and I sleep in my panties, too, so it’s really not that big of a deal. I mean,” she laughed. “As long as I make it to the toilet in time. Cleaning anything larger than a little splatter off the floor really sucks, especially when you first wake up.”
	I took a deep breath. At this point, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to press further. Her frankness and her… specificity had been deeply satisfying, but emotionally taxing. “That’s… wow.”
	[i] I can’t even imagine what this girl’s  [/i][i] underwear [/i][i]  drawer looks like. She can’t possibly clean them all out immediately. Most of them are probably pretty badly stained. [/i]
	“Sorry, TMI?” She asked, turning back to her attic duties.
	“Not at all. I find that kinda stuff… interesting.”
	“What kind of stuff,” she pressed. “You mean pee stuff. Er, like bathroom habits?”
	I swallowed and my eyes widened a bit. It was pretty clear that I was turned on by her poor bladder-relieving habits, but neither us had yet put it so bluntly. “Um… yeah. Stuff like that.”
	“Okay.” She said, pausing for a moment. “I suppose I’ll have to tell you some more stories some other time then. I have lots.”
	“L-Lots….?”
	“Mmhm.”

	

 

[i] Daisy didn’t mention to her dad that Jacob specifically was coming [/i]

[i] Daisy understands Jacob’s primary motivation for his behavior without having to be told: what makes everybody else so much better, so much more fit to lead him? [/i]
[i] 	 [/i]

[i] A powerful breeze that is refreshing by virtue of it’s strength [/i]

[i] She notices he has a boner when he catches her changing but she doesn’t mention it [/i]

[i] Let's hope we don't have any repeats “I'm about to have a repeat” [/i]

		
	SEARCH DOCUMENT FOR MENTIONS OF THE 'STREAM' AND CHANGE TO CREEK

	
	
[i] 	 [/i]