Divine Wetness: A Christian's Secret

The rain hammered against the windows of my bathroom, a relentless, insistent rhythm that seemed to mirror the frantic beat of my own heart. It had been a long day, filled with the usual demands of motherhood, the endless cycle of feeding, cleaning, and comforting. But tonight, there was something different, a simmering heat beneath the surface of my weariness, a secret desire that had been building for weeks. It started with a casual conversation on social media, a connection forged through shared interests and a surprising openness about sexuality. She, a fellow pro-masturbation Christian mother, had confessed her own peculiar pleasure in peeing while masturbating, and her description ignited something within me. I'd never considered it before, this act of releasing both pleasure and waste simultaneously, but the thought held an undeniable allure.

My husband, David, was a good man, a devout member of our church, and a loyal partner. But he wasn't always the most adventurous in the bedroom. I'd long since moved on from the predictable routines, seeking new sensations, new heights of intimacy. The idea of introducing this element of surprise, this blend of vulnerability and control, felt like a breath of fresh air. So, after weeks of mental preparation, fueled by countless fantasies and a healthy dose of anticipation, I decided to take the plunge.

I chose the perfect setting: our small, private bathroom, complete with a modest washbasin. The small room felt intimate and contained, perfect for indulging in this rather unconventional pleasure. My mind raced as I laid out the essentials. First, the underwear. I selected a pair of off-white, thin cotton briefs from my lingerie drawer. They were slightly sheer, allowing a glimpse of my pubic hair, and the absence of a gusset lining would ensure maximum sensation. These had borne the marks of countless masturbations, imbued with the familiar scent of pussy wetness and girl cum, a testament to my own desires.

Next, the bra. I opted for a quarter cup bra, one that offered a lift on the underside of my breasts while leaving much of my cleavage exposed. It showcased my areola and nipples, drawing attention to those sensitive areas that were sure to play a role in this experience. The tan camisole and dark skirt completed the ensemble, creating a look that was both alluring and slightly provocative.

As I waited for my bladder to fill, I felt a nervous excitement building within me. I filled a large glass with water, savoring the coolness as it spread across my palate. A few cups of tea helped too, further stimulating my body’s natural processes. The anticipation intensified with each passing moment, a delicious tension that made my skin tingle.

When I felt the familiar pressure, I knew it was time. I lifted my skirt slightly, revealing my legs and the curve of my vulva. My husband, David, was watching from the doorway, his expression a mixture of amusement and curiosity. "Love seeing your hair through your knicks," he said, his voice low and suggestive. "Sexy! You already have a wet spot."

"Well, that's from my arousal," I replied, a playful smile gracing my lips. "But soon it will be from my pee." I felt a surge of confidence, a sense of liberation as I prepared to embrace this unconventional pleasure.

I began to touch myself, starting with my thighs and hips, working my way up my abdomen and sides. The warmth of my arousal intensified, and as I moved my hands lower, I felt a release of pressure as a small stream of urine began to flow. The sensation was both strange and exhilarating, a primal connection to my own body.

My husband unzipped his pants and moved closer, his hand gently stroking my lower back. The touch was both comforting and stimulating, enhancing the pleasure I was experiencing. As I continued to masturbate, the flow of urine increased, soaking the fabric of my briefs. The scent of ammonia hung in the air, a reminder of the biological process taking place.

I let go completely, surrendering to the moment, as a torrent of urine gushed from my body. The warmth spread across my skin, creating a delightful sensation. My pussy was on fire, fueled by my husband's presence and the sheer joy of this experience. It wasn't just physical pleasure; it was a release of tension, a shedding of inhibitions.

As the last bit of urine flowed away, I took a deep breath, savoring the lingering sensations. I continued to masturbate, focusing on my clitoris, which throbbed with pleasure. I massaged my breasts as well, enjoying the wetness that now coated my skin. Every inch of my body was alive with sensation, heightened by the shared intimacy of the moment.

"Oh, wow! That was good," I sighed, letting out a contented moan. The rain outside continued its relentless assault, but within the confines of our bathroom, a sense of peace and satisfaction had settled over me.

Looking back, I realized the experience had been transformative. It had pushed me beyond my comfort zone, challenging my beliefs and expanding my understanding of my own sexuality. The memory of that night, the feeling of release, the shared pleasure with my husband, would stay with me forever. As I changed back into my clothes, feeling the dampness clinging to my skin, I knew that this was just the beginning of my journey into the world of wet panty masturbation. The pleasure had been intense, but the desire to explore further burned bright within me.

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