18 year old Billy DiMato had just gotten home from school. After changing into a pair of grey sweats and a Chicago Bears tee shirt he was sitting in the living room listening to his music when the front door crashed open. In streaked his twin sister Carrie. She slammed the door, kicked off her shoes and scampered up the stairs pulling her shorts down as she ran.
What the hell, Billy thought; he got up and followed her. At the top of the stairs Carrie was trying to kick off her shorts. One foot got caught and she nearly tripped but she finally got her foot free and kicked the offending clothing clear to the ceiling.
Billy now understood what the panic was all about, Carrie was rushing to the bathroom; she almost made it, but not quite. As she got to the door she knew she was too late, her bladder let go. At least she was on the tile floor not the carpet; the clean-up would be easier.
Carrie heard a sound behind her and she turned around. Oh My God she thought, there was her brother Billy watching her. Her bladder was overflowing; her pee was washing through the gusset of her panties and was flooding through both leg holes, there were three waterfalls draining on the floor and splashing up to soak her feet; Billy was seeing it happen to her. She felt like she wanted to die, the humiliation and embarrassment were more than she could bear.
She started to cry then she screamed, “Billy go away, just go away, leave me alone.”
Billy just stood, awestruck. He was not a naive young man; with his darkly handsome Italian looks, his long wavy black hair, his flashing dark eyes and his glib tongue he’d already talked several girls out of their panties, yet he’d never seen anything that so aroused him. As he gaped at Carrie while she was in full flood he’d stiffened to the point that his sweats were tented. He hoped Carrie wouldn’t notice. As she continued to gush and cry he could only stand frozen, mesmerized by the sight.
“Billy go away please, I’m so embarrassed, just go away,” Carrie pled.
“Carrie, it’s just an accident, we all have them, don’t be embarrassed. Let me help.”
“What can you do, Billy,” she sobbed.
“Carrie, take off your wet panties and the rest of your clothes; I’ll put them in the washer and mop the floor while you take a shower.”
“Billy I can’t take off my panties in front of you.”
“Sure you can.”
“Billy, I’m not doing that.”
“So ok, close the door and throw your things out, I’ll still wash them and mop up while you take your shower.”
Closing the door Carrie said, “Ok.” A few moments later the door opened a crack and her sopping panties, tee shirt and bra hit the floor at his feet.
True to his word, Billy picked up her things and took them to the laundry room. He started the washer and threw in her top and bra but he held onto her panties, he couldn’t help himself, he brought them to his face and buried his nose in the sopping crotch. The pungent aroma of her urine was overpowering but he could also discern her own soft, sweet fragrance. He was so overcome with arousal that he dropped his sweats, wrapped his cock in her wet panties and masturbated. There was something deliciously erotic knowing that he was indulging himself in her pee. He came hard then tossed the panties in the washer. Grabbing the mop he headed back upstairs. The bathroom door was still shut. He knocked and opened the door. Carrie was still in the shower.
He called to her, “It’s just the janitor,” as he mopped up her mess.
Finished, he took the mop back downstairs, rinsed it and put it away.