When I was eight and was supposed to be “a big girl,” I still wet my bed regularly. Needless to say that my mom was not happy about that. She expressed her desperation to Aunt Mieke, my mother’s unmarried older sister. A bedwetting alarm did not help; it did wake me up, but by then my bed was already wet. And the doctor advised my mother not to put a diaper on me at night, because then I would get used to not having to get out of bed when I had to pee. What could my mother do?
Aunt Mieke thought for a moment, then looked at me and said: “Let her stay with me for a week.” If I wanted. Oh yes, I sure did, because I adored my aunt. She had something that immediately made you feel comfortable with her. Oddly enough, I wasn’t worried at all about wetting in bed there. As if I knew Auntie would solve that somehow. Perhaps a week was too short, so it was decided that I would stay with Aunt Mieke for ten days. I could just keep going to school from there, because my aunt didn’t live very far away and she would take me there by car and pick me up again.
“You can sleep in my bed,” said Auntie the first night, when it was my bedtime – well, a little later, because we were having a good time. She saw me looking a little short of breath, to which she reacted by saying: “It’s okay if you wet the bed, it can take it”. I asked half reassured, “But where are you sleeping?” Auntie laughed. “You didn’t think you got that very big bed all to yourself, did you? I’ll crawl into with you later, is that okay?” I nodded, because this seemed really nice, but I also thought it was a bit frightening: what if my Auntie got into bed and I had wet it?
Well, that didn’t happen. In fact, I slept wonderfully and stayed dry all night. When Auntie got into bed I woke up and found myself needing to pee, so then I went to the bathroom. The second night also went without problems. It was wonderful to sleep with my aunt, by the way. It gave me an enormous feeling of security and warmth, the latter both literally and figuratively.
The third night I slept wonderfully again, without any fears, but when I woke up in the middle of the night, with Aunt next to me, I was shocked to find out that I had wet my pyjamas. Shit, now I had wet Auntie’s bed! At that moment also Aunt Mieke woke up, who, of course, immediately realized what had happened. She took me in her arms and whispered in my ear, “Hm, nice and warm …” I was stunned. “Don’t you mind then?”
She could have answered, “No, that’s what you’re here for, right?” That would have been very reassuring already. But she even said instead, “On the contrary, I like it – it’s like having a warm bath in bed,” and she giggled. She took me even tighter in her arms, putting one leg over mine. “You know what?” she whispered in my ear, “I really need to pee as well …” And almost immediately I felt her warm pee flow through my pyjamas and mingle under my buttocks with my own pee. It was unbelievable. It was delicious and naughty at the same time. Oh, what a wonderful aunt I had!
When the wet bed started to get cold, it wasn’t so nice anymore. “Come on,” said Auntie, “we’re taking a nice hot shower!” That was also quite an event for an a girl of my age. I had seen my mother naked at times, but not up close and only briefly; let alone taking a shower with an adult woman. At first I was a bit embarrassed to have a proper look at her, but Aunt Mieke was so free and open that I just did. “We’re both women,” she said, “and there’s nothing strange to see.” Suddenly she farted loudly. “Oops!” We both laughed. “And I have to pee again, too,” she said. I saw it and could smell it. It smelled nice, I thought. I also had to pee again so I let it run as well and watched our pee drain with the shower water.
We went to sleep for a few more hours in the guest room, where Aunt Mieke had another double bed. She had put the wet bedding in the washing machine and when we sat down for breakfast the next morning, it was already drying outside. The first nights after that I woke up when Aunt Mieke got into bed and of course I went to the toilet to pee. I peed in Aunt Mieke’s bed one more time, when I hadn’t woken up when she got into bed. And again she hugged me and wet the bed even more. The nights after that I slept through when she got into bed with me, but always woke up on time when I had to pee.
The last night I stayed with my aunt, she wanted to throw a wet pyjama party. We went to bed early – with full bladders! We played a game of who could hold her pee the longest. We listened to music and told each other stories, drank cola and ate potato chips. We were still far from sleep. “Did you know,” said Auntie, “that fresh urine from a healthy person is very clean? There are practically no bacteria or other pathogens in it. You could drink it if you wanted to. Whether you’d like it is something else.” To be honest, I couldn’t imagine anyone drinking piss. “And in the old days,” Auntie continued, “when the milk wasn’t yet going to the dairy to be pasteurized, the farmer’s daughter – it had to be a virgin girl – had to pee a little in the milk to kill the bacteria.” Aunt laughed when she saw the dirty face I pulled. “You really won’t taste those few drops!”
Then the moment came when my bladder was about to burst, I really couldn’t hold it any longer. “Come and sit on my lap,” said Aunt Mieke, sitting on the bed with her legs outstretched, “with your knees on either side of me, your crotch above mine.” At first nothing happened, because I had squeezed my bladder so tight. But when Auntie started to tickle me, the locks opened gradually. “Just let it flow, girl. Through your pyjamas, through my pyjamas, through my panties – so that it feels like I wet my panties myself!” But I didn’t need any encouragement. My hot pee poured out like it would never end. But Auntie asked, “Are you saving something for later?”
We had a lot of fun and I thought it was very exciting. We hugged each other and took turns letting a warm stream flow. After soaking ourselves and each other, we took off the wet pyjamas and soggy pants. When I said that I had to pee once more, Auntie told me to stand with legs apart above her while she lay on her back on the soaked bed, and pee on her stomach. I thought that was a bit crazy, but also exciting, as I watched my yellow stream splash on her body. But soon not another drop came out. After an extensive and joyful shower, we went to sleep satisfied in the dry guest bed again.
“If your mother asks how I helped you get rid of the bedwetting, just say that’s our little secret”, said Aunt Mieke. I promised and kept it a secret … until now. It wasn’t until much later that I realized two things. Firstly, that my aunt never once touched me where she shouldn’t have, and never made any sexual innuendos. And secondly, of course, how cleverly she handled this. Without ever mentioning it, she made me realize that peeing in bed isn’t dirty, that peeing itself isn’t dirty at all, and that I should not be ashamed of bedwetting either. In fact: that you can even have fun with it. The fear of wetting the bed, like most fears, is likely to be a self-fulfilling prophecy. But that fear had completely disappeared after my staying with Aunt Mieke. And so I was dry from that day on. And still am. That is, unless I wet the bed on purpose!