From Zeta

From Zeta

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From Zeta Reproduced from "Wet Set" magazine by kind permission of the publishers. Wet Set, P O Box 392 Turramurra, NSW 2074, Australia. One of the best relationships I have ever had with another girl, in which wetting ourselves played a large part, started when we were working together one Thursday night when I was the manageress of a clothes store. We were very busy and I had to go to the storeroom and leave Anita alone with a customer. Even before I left I had been aware that she needed to use the bathroom, as she had been crossing her legs and jigging up and down whenever the customer was looking the other way. It was shaping up to be a big sale though, and we couldn't risk losing her. I was the only one who was allowed to use the storeroom after hours, so she just had to hold on. When I got back I could tell by the way she was standing that she was now absolutely desperate. The customer had left while I was gone (without buying!), and Anita was now standing over by the counter with her hand jammed tightly between her thighs, and a look of desperation on her face. I took her by the arm and said that I would take over but she replied that she didn't think she would make it and that she had already wet herself a bit. She removed her hand and let me see the small wet patch that had appeared on her jeans at the top of her thigh. 'Me toilets were right down the other end of the mail, and I could see it was clear that she had left it too late. I was starting to get a bit excited at the thought of what might happen, but I told her to stand in one of the change rooms while I went and locked the door and searched for the bucket. I locked the door and was searching behind the counter for the bucket when I noticed a little yellow stream running out from under the curtain of the change room. I pulled the curtain aside to see Anita had done it in her jeans all the way down her legs. They were stained dark blue and she looked like she was going to cry. I put my arms around her shoulders and cuddled her, and told her it was all right to wet herself, and that I had done it lots of times. I was very turned on and could feel my pussy getting wet and I'm sure she could feel my hard nipples. I held her close enough to get my own clothes a bit wet and I secretly did a spurt of pee in my own panties. She stopped crying but she didn't move so I kept holding her and telling her I didn't mind. I didn't really want to risk making a pass at another woman and being rejected, but I was so turned on I thought I was going to faint. I couldn't keep my eyes off the beautiful stains that Anita had made on her jeans, and was absolutely dying to piss myself too. I continued to hold her and stroked her hair while I reassured her with brief descriptions of times I had wet my pants. I could tell she was responding to this, and was enjoying having me cuddle her, so I took the plunge and kissed her on the cheek while I let another spurt go in my pants. Her response was all I could have hoped for, and very quickly we were kissing on the lips and fondling each other. It seemed my sensual descriptions of my own accidents, together with the warmth against her pussy, had produced the desired results. I had my cunt pressed up against the top of her thigh, and I told her to stay still for a second, and without saying any more I wet all over her leg. After this we both took our wet pants off and lay down on the floor of the change room and licked and rubbed each other in the puddle of piss unfit we came. After that we cleaned up and got changed into some clothes off the rack before opening up the shop. For the next hour until closing we couldn't help grinning at each other every time our eyes met, and I was dying to talk to her about what we had done. After we closed up we went across the street to the bar and sat down for a long chat. I soon found out that like me, Anita was also into wetting for pleasure, and wet her pants frequently both accidentally and on purpose. We also discovered that often during the times we had worked together, we had both walked ar me, so we went to find a cab. Just before we left the bar Anita got up and walked towards the ladies, but I followed and caught her just before she went in. I whispered in her ear that I needed to go too, but 'couldn't be bothered'. She looked up at me with a little smile and giggled, but then reminded me that we were wearing shop clothes. Since I was the boss however, I managed to convince her not to worry about it, and that if anything should happen I would take responsibility. So there we were standing on the street corner dying for a pee, and both carrying little bundles of wet and smelly clothes. It was just like waiting to be picked up after school At one point Anita said she was having second thoughts, but suddenly a vacant cab appeared and we both got in. About half way to Anita's place I knew I wasn't going to be able to hold it, so I opened my legs a little, grabbed Anita's hand and clamped it between my thighs. I could tell she was excited because she was breathing heavily, and when I started wetting I thought she was going to pass out. Piss was soaking everywhere, and my bum felt hot against the vinyl. I leaned over and whispered for her to wet herself for me as I slid my hand between her legs. I think she was a bit scared of the cab driver noticing, and she couldn't seem to let go, even though I could feel her pushing. When we started getting close to our destination, Anita asked the driver to stop a few houses away from hers so he wouldn't know who had messed up his back seat. As soon as he was gone, she stood up close to me, grabbed my hand and put it up under her skirt, and proceeded to piss in her panties, down her legs and on both our shoes. The warm feeling over my hand was great, and I used my fingers to rub her clit through her soaked panties. But before she had emptied her bladder completely she stopped, and explained that she wanted to do the rest inside. Once in the house she took me by the hand and led me into her bedroom, telling me how she wanted me to stand at the end of the bed and watch her. She explained that it had been a fantasy of hers for a long time to have someone watch her while she 'did her thing'. I stood there dumbfounded in my dripping wet clothes as I watched her take a plastic sheet from under the wardrobe and spread it out on her bed. Every so often she looked up and gave me a little smile, and asked me to lift up my dress so she could see my wet panties. The wetness had made them transparent, and they clung to my pussy. I knew that Anita could see everything, and the thought was highly exciting to me. As she climbed onto the bed I started to rub my clit in little circular motions with my finger, and found myself getting lower to the floor as my knees started to bend. Anita knelt down on the plastic sheet, sat on her feet with her thighs wide apart, and pulled her dress up to her waist. Just like with me her panties were wet and transparent and through the material I could see that she was shaved bare. She was obviously turned on like never before, the rosy colour of her swollen pussy lips clearly visible, and with a fold of her wet pants tucked between them I could easily make out the contours and shape of her sex. Still in this position she reached over to her bedside table and retrieved a vibrator from the top draw. It was in the shape of a large cock, and turning it on she pressed the head against her crotch and began to masturbate. Her other hand was massaging her ripples through her dress, and even though her eyes were half closed, I knew she was watching me and looking for my reaction. In the state I was in I could hardly speak, but managed to raise a smile of encouragement. Anita then moved the vibrator to one side, giving me a clear view between her legs, and although I couldn't actually see anything I knew from the look on her fes to one side and had my index finger inside me while I massaged my clitoris with my thumb. Even though I had sunk so close to the floor that I was practically kneeling, I never once took my eyes off Anita 'doing her thing'. As soon as she finished peeing she pulled her panties aside like I had done, took the vibrator and slid it inside her all the way up to the balls, and then replaced her panties over them to hold it in place. As we both then frigged ourselves to blinding orgasms, me with my hand and Anita with her huge plastic cock, I wondered if coming would ever be that intense again. As soon as I calmed down, I climbed onto the bed with Anita and lay down beside her in the still warm puddle of pee. My clothes immediately soaked it up and I felt it spreading against my skin. She too lay down and we began what would end up being several hours of kissing, licking, pissing and coming. In the morning we washed and ironed our clothes, and as soon as we got to work put them back on the rack! For the rest of the time we were together in that shop work took on a completely different meaning. We got into the habit of bringing a change of clothes with us every day just in case one or both of us had a little accident in her pants, and even made up a new company motto to raise staff morale - 'wet while you work!'

Letters from WS #8 Pt.24 From Zeta

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Subject: Letters from WS #8 Pt.24 From Zeta Reproduced from "Wet Set" magazine #8 by kind permission of the publishers. Wet Set, P O Box 392 Turramurra, NSW 2074, Australia. From Sally, Leicester: I have enjoyed reading all the letters in your different issues, but my special interest is girls who wet their pants when being caned, as the same thing happened to me on numerous occasions at school. The first time it happened was also the first time I was given the cane, for being consistently late in the morning. I was sent to the headmistress' study, and as I waited in trepidation outside, the fear I felt caused an urgent need to visit the bathroom. I asked her secretary if I could go to the loo but she said I had to wait until the headmistress came back. I ground my thighs together, but the need to pee became more and more urgent. By the time the headmistress returned I was close to wetting myself I haltingly asked her if I could visit the toilet, but to my horror she refused, saying that she was very busy and that I could go after I had received my punishment. By now I was getting really desperate, grinding my thighs together in an effort to contain my pee. Her tone of voice indicated she was amused by my predicament and I realise now she probably relished the thought that I might wet my pants as I was being caned. She called me into her room and I stood fidgeting in front of her desk, pressing my thighs together and bobbing up and down in a desperate attempt to prevent an accident. She told me to stay still and to stand with my legs apart. As I obeyed I felt a trickle of wetness soak into the crotch of my panties. She walked over to a cupboard and took out a long, thin cane and swished it through the air, saying that she was going to give me ten strokes on the behind. The shock caused me to relax my muscles slightly, and a spurt of pee jetted into my pants and trickled down my leg. She smiled when she saw this, and said she hoped I wasn't going to behave like a baby. She told me to bend over and grasp my ankles, and flipping up my skirt to reveal my powder blue panties she commented on the darker stain at the crotch. I was still trying to keep control of my bladder, but the first stroke of the cane was too much for me. As it sliced into my bum, the shock caused me to instantly go to the toilet in my pants. I started to cry in shame as my bladder emptied itself down my legs, but the headmistress continued to cane me another nine times, and then made me mop up the mess I had caused. She then dismissed me saying that she hoped I had learned my lesson. I dashed off to the loo, but by the time I reached there I realised that the wet warmth in my pants was actually turning me on. I then sat on the loo and rubbed myself to a gasping orgasm. That was the start of my addiction to knicker wetting, and from then on I purposely did things to get the cane, and wet myself each time despite being sent to the loo beforehand. Sometimes it was accidental, but more often on purpose. I also used to wee myself out of school hours, and managed to get some diuretic tablets from the doctor by feigning a bladder infection. I would drink lots of water along with a couple of tablets, and within a few hours would be absolutely desperate for a pee. If my parents were out for the day I would get a large basin from downstairs, put a pair of leotards on, and stand in it in front of my mirror. By this time I would be hopping from one foot to another, trying to prevent a wet accident until I was ready. When I couldn't hold out any longer, I would force myself to stand still and pretend I was getting the cane. In a few moments a damp patch would appear on the crotch of my leotards, growing larger as I gradually lost control of my bladder he wanted to tell me about three months into our relationship. We were having a quiet drink in a pub when he asked me if I was easily shocked. 'No,' I said hesitantly, but was secretly dreading what was coming next. As it turned out, his confessions about nappy wearing and wetting himself did not seem that bad to me. I was imagining something much worse. After the initial surprise I must admit I felt the urge to laugh, not at my boyfriend, but at the picture it created in my mind. Fortunately I was able to control myself, and told him that his 'baby' side would not pose a problem for me. In fact the idea quite appealed to the dominant side of my nature. I respected his honesty and bravery to 'come out' and tell me exactly what turned him on. After all, I could have walked out in disgust, and I am pleased to say we have carried that honesty through into all areas of our life. After we were married and installed in our first flat, we started playing the games that my husband had been dreaming about for years. The first step was to put together a layette for my new 'baby'. I started by ordering plastic incontinence pants, and made nappies from large white towels. It also came as a surprise to me that my new husband was very creative, and he soon made up some rather good 'baby' clothes. As the years go by, our activities in the nappy department become more and more erotic to both of us. One game we both like to act out is as follows: I play the role of nanny/nurse who is left in charge of a 'grown up boy'. Of course she soon finds out what he is wearing when she starts to undress him for his full examination and bath. On finding his nappy and plastic pants I demand an explanation. His response is feeble as usual, and he mumbles to me that he is wetting himself as I stand and watch. I tell him that such behaviour is not acceptable, and he must be taught a lesson. He is then marched into the bathroom and made to stand in the bath to avoid any mess. Then it is down with the nappy and out with the spanking paddle. I make him touch his toes and ask why he wet himself. He doesn't answer, and I inform him that his impudence has just earned him six extra strokes. As he starts to cry I take aim, his bottom making a superb target, and with relish I land the first stroke on his squirming buttock. After eleven further stingers on his wet bottom I pull up his very soggy nappy. He is then made to stand in the corner till I am ready to change him. It pleases me much to think of his backside covered in red marks inside that very uncomfortable nappy. An hour is allowed to pass, by which time I feel he has suffered enough. He is then undressed and put in the bath where I wash him all over before leaving him to play a while. While he is in the bath I go to the cupboard where all his nappies and baby pants are kept. I select the ones I want, plus an all in one romper suit. Once he is dry I lead him to the bedroom and tell him to lie on the rubber sheet I have placed on the bed. I then put powder all over him, and cream on his bottom to avoid nappy rash. Once I am satisfied that I have not missed any important bits, I lift up his legs and place a warm fluffy nappy under his bum, pulling it up between his legs and pinning it in place. Next I roll up his plastic pants and put his feet through the leg holes, making it easier to slide them up his legs and over his nappy clad bottom. Once they are on him I check all round the elasticated waist and legs to avoid any leaks. He is then told to stand up and step into his romper suit When I have cleared up, 'baby' and me like to cuddle on the bed and we both get very turned on. Needless to say we both end up very sexually satisfied at the end of this game. At this point I would like to explain that our relationship is not always physical. You see my husband likes to dress up to unwind after work, and I allow this as I know how much he enjoys it. For example, he loves to sit in the lounge as I watch television, in his nappy and plastic pants while I am dressed normally. This especially turns him on as I make no comment on what he is wearing, but simply carry on a non sexual conversation. As the years have passed it's almost not an act any more, as I h his nappy. Another big turn on for my husband is to wear his nappy under his clothes when we visit relatives and friends, or just when going to the supermarket I think it's the dare factor of our outings that really turns him on - that, and the fact of being different from everyone else. I must admit it's also quite a turn on for me being the only one who knows his naughty secret. Often when we are in crowded shops I pat his bottom and ask if he has been a good boy. This keeps him on his toes, as it makes quite a rustle, and there is a chance people might hear. This to me is a real power trip, and I love being in control of 'baby'. After all, if he ever really upset me, all I would have to do is yank his trousers down and show the world what hubby is wearing. Once home after a long day out I give my 'little boy' his tea and then a wash before bed, by which time he is getting tired. All that is left for me to do is to put on his thick night time nappy and waterproof pants and give him his bottle. I let him sit with me until we both feel like going to bed. Once in bed my 'baby' likes me to cuddle him and gently pat his bottom until he is asleep. In the morning I have to check to see if he has wet himself during the night. I do this by putting my hand down the front of his pants, and if he is wet I turn him over and slap his legs. He pretends to cry and says it will not happen again, but I know it win. Sometimes I wonder if I will ever get him out of nappies, but somehow I don't think so. Whilst I am sure the readers of Wet Set share my attitude to 'fetish' sex, I would just like to add that my partner is a good husband, and these games in no way lessen his masculinity in my eyes. So if your partner asks to wear nappies and plastic pants, ask yourself what harm will it do? After all, you might start to enjoy it too.

A letter from Lloyd of Australia.

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From Zeta
           Reproduced from "Wet Set" magazine by kind permission
           of the publishers.
           Wet Set, P O Box 392 Turramurra, NSW 2074, Australia.


A letter from Lloyd of Australia.

"I've been a hopeless pants pisser since I can remember. I'm now 36 and
look like never stopping - certainly not 'growing out of it'! I've just
read the article in the latest Picture magazine devoted to pants
wetting. You had some photos there of women peeing in their jeans. I was
particularly intrigued by the one shown from behind - what is she doing
with her hand - feeling how wet her pants are, or is she trying to pee
on her hand? I would love to find out more.

I thought I was the only one into this sort of thing. I've tried to
introduce various (girl friends of mine to it, with varying success.
Mostly, they get a kick out of doing it and seeing me get a kick out of
it if you know what I mean. They all seem to enjoy the experience while
it's new, but when they 'come to their senses' they don't want to any
more. My marriage was even brought to an end because my wife decided she
didn't want to wet any more, even though she always seemed to enjoy it.
She would once piss anywhere, in anything. Swimmers and leotards (she's
a dancer) were particular favourites, but cotton knickers and lycra bike
pants, or just a nice high cut bikini brief under a skirt or even jeans
were great.

We would walk along the beach at sunset with our swimmers under our
shorts, stop somewhere near a dune or rocks, pull our shorts down and
pee through the swimmers. She had a pink one-piece I used to love her
peeing in. One day she was wearing it under a pair of tight white shorts
while we were walking along. She stopped and called my name, and I
turned around to see what she wanted. She looked down at herself, moved
her feet apart in the sand, bent her knees a little, and started to pee.
At first all I could see was her pee trickling out either side of her
crotch, down the legs of her shorts. Then the front of her crotch
darkened in a wet yellow stain that moved forward and spread sideways.
She pushed hard, and as she peed faster and faster, her pee spread
everywhere, running down her legs as well as falling straight down from
her pants to the sand.

She would often go for walks in the evening, and come back with her
pants wet from some fun she'd had on the way. Bike pants or a skirt were
particularly good, as was the black lycra of the bike pants you couldn't
see they were wet, nor the knickers underneath, and with a skirt she
could have as much fun as she liked without anyone but me knowing,
unless of course she sat down! Even when she went to the loo she didn't
dry, preferring to let her pants absorb the trickle remaining. We would
have nights when we would drink ourselves silly and piss and piss and
piss, without ever taking off our shorts or jeans.

We both also used to ride bicycles (racing bikes), and one of the things
cyclists do while riding is hydration, which is basically drinking as
much water as you can. Since you can't be stopping all the time for a
pee when you are in a group or a race, proper cyclists' pants have
special padding for peeing through. Basically it 'wicks' away the pee
and sends it running down your legs. For this reason amongst others,
cyclists recommend you don't wear knickers underneath, but I know most
women still prefer to, as do I. I think they like the extra layers of
fabric to pee through. I certainly do, and so did my wife.

I once had a girlfriend who had tried wetting a couple of times, but
wasn't really into it. One day we had been to the beach and had an
argument all the way back in the car. We hadn't stopped anywhere for a
pee, and hadn't peed at the beach either. On the way back she said she
had to go to the toilet but after I told her we would be home soon, she
said she would wait. When we got to my place we were still arguing as we
got out of the car, and instead of going up to the house, she said she
was going to walk home. She lived about 10 minutes drive away, but it
would be at least half an hour before she got home. I called after her
and said that I thought she needed to go to the toilet but she replied
that she'd hold it. I ran after her, telling her she should come back,
but she still kept walking. After a while she started to complain that
she was bursting, and that it was all my fault. Suddenly she stopped
dead, looked at me and said 'You bastard, I hope you're satisfied.' She
was still wearing her swimmers, which were dark blue with sky blue
panels and no crotch lining, and over them she had on a pair of Corfu
jeans. She simply looked at me as I watched the crotch of her jeans go
dark, as her pee wet the fabric. The stain started to run down her legs,
so she squatted down to make the pee run backwards and through to the
ground.

I could imagine her pee soaking the crotch of her swimmers as it pooled
inside her jeans, and it turned me on. Evidently it also broke the ice
with her, for when I suggested she couldn't go home like that and should
come and clean up, she agreed. The wet games that followed ended the
afternoon in the nicest way possible.

A girl I was trying to introduce to the practice of pants pissing was
reticent to try it, but I was very persistent. One day when I was at her
place I must have struck a chord somehow, as she said she would try it.
She was wearing a lycra gym bodysuit under her outer clothes, and she
went into the loo fully dressed. She left her shorts on as she stood
above the bowl and peed through her bodysuit. The pee ran down one leg
of her shorts and into the bowl. When she finished she came out and we
talked about it. She said it felt nice and warm, but that it smelled and
she wanted to change. As she took off her shorts I could see the wet
dark crotch of her bodysuit. She washed the shorts and hung them out to
dry, and then pulled on another pair. I asked why she didn't change her
bodysuit, but she simply replied that she wanted to wear that one.

That night we went to a party and raged on all through the night.
Because she'd already peed in the bodysuit once, when she needed to pee
again she just took off her shoes and peed in it again, and again. She
even slept in the bodysuit and didn't take it off until showering at
home the following afternoon. By then she said she could really smell
it!

Now I don't know whether she still does it, but that night she came
close to doing something I like to do myself, and I wish I could contact
women who also like it. That is to wear the one pair of knickers for as
long as possible without taking them off, and peeing through them
whenever I feel like it, or just need to go. The longest I have ever
managed was two days, and that was over a weekend, drinking lots of
water to keep my pee flowing copiously and diluted. I'd really like to
talk to the woman who can beat that!

I don't mind the smell of pee soaked pants, and although I'm conscious
of the fact that other people might smell it, I quite like it myself. I
sometimes wonder what female wetters think about this, the ones who like
pissing in pants rather than nappies. Why do they like it? Is it for the
same reasons as I do, or do women think differently? How do they start?

I know of a young girl who seems determined to be a pants pisser, and
she does it whenever her parents won't catch her. I caught her one day
and told her it was OK, and I didn't mind, so now she tells me about all
of her pants pissing incidents. She even gets other girls she knows to
do it but she's got into trouble for that, and now only gets them to pee
in their swimmers at the pool.

I've been re-reading, the Picture article, and I really have to control
myself right now, as I only have one pair of jeans left that aren't in
the wash or unwearable because I've peed in all the others. The article
has given me new resolve and daring. After rehearsals (I'm a muso), I
get to my car and just let go a powerful squirt for the sheer fun of it,
and the feeling of having the pee soak though my underpants and spread
inside my jeans. I've got to watch how much I pee in the car, or it will
start to smell, and I'm afraid one of my occasional passengers may
'smell a rat'.

The other night at a friend's place, I was discussing this very subject
when she said something like she didn't know how I could do it (pee in
my pants). I offered to do it for her right then, and asked 'Would it be
obvious, would it show?' I told her it wouldn't, as my jeans were dark,
so she said OK. I related a story to her of how I had demonstrated pants
pissing to another female friend of mine, and when I got to the crucial
bit I got up, stood with my legs apart, bent my knees, and pissed a hard
squirt into my pants. When I'd peed enough to make a little puddle on
the floor, I showed her how the material, though wet was not
significantly darker, and how I'd managed to avoid any running down my
legs. Just takes practice!

Later on, when I was about to leave, I asked her if she wanted to see me
really piss myself, and when she said yes I walked with her to my car,
turned to face her, then slowly emptied my bladder down the legs of my
jeans. I think I may have got her interested, as she said she thought
she could do it. When she tried however, she discovered that she
couldn't pee standing up, and so squatted down and let go in her denim
shorts, saturating the seat of them. She said that even though it was
nice feeling, she didn't know if she would get into the habit.

I also have a younger female friend who at the time of this story was
about 18. Tracy and I were with a group staying in a caravan near the
beach on South Stradbroke Island, and one day we were all out walking
along, the beach. We had been walking for a long time, and Tracy and I
had fallen back talking. The others were a long way ahead, and we were
walking about knee deep in a tidal pool, both in swimmers, she in a one
piece blue thing with beautifully high cut legs and narrow shoulder
straps - it looked a bit like a ballet leotard. In fact it might have
been, since she was a ballet dancer. Anyway, we were part way through
the pool when the water must have reminded me that I needed to pee. I
said as much, and asked if she would mind if we stopped so I could do
it. She said OK, and stood to one side while I tried to pee, but I
couldn't. I didn't want to get all wet by squatting, in the water, but
having her stand there seemed to prevent me from going standing up.

I explained that I was having trouble and that I thought it was because
she was there, watching but not doing anything. At that point she said
she needed to go too, so I replied that it would probably help if she
did. She came over and stood with me, and after a short time started to
pee through her swimmers. I could hear the urine trickling from her
crotch, down her legs and into the water. On hearing that my bladder
finally let go, and so we stood there watching each other as we peed
through our swimmers into the pool. 'This was to be the only time Tracy
and I ever pissed in our pants together, although we swapped many
stories in the years to come.

To finish off this letter I'll just relate a couple of the things Tracy
has told me. At one time she was studying at Queensland University, and
had one particularly non stop day of lectures and tutorials. Towards the
end of the day she was really bursting, and bolted out to the toilets as
soon as the lecture finished. This day she was wearing a skirt and top
with a wide elastic belt, and was already starting to leak as she closed
the door to the cubicle. The anticipation made her start to pee before
she had a chance to get her pants down. She hitched her skirt up and
tried to get her fingers under the tight elastic to get her pants down,
but had completely forgotten that she had worn a leotard that day. She
frantically tried to pull her pants down, but by the time she had
realised her mistake, the pee was already running down her legs into her
shoes. She just couldn't stop the flow, and her panic was making it
worse. Finally she gave up, and sat down on the toilet and pissed her
whole bladder full into her pants.

That experience motivated her to experiment with ways of getting away
with 'accidents', and she started wearing thin pants and leotards which
could pee in successfully without making so much of a mess. She never
did quite get to the point of being mad about peeing in her pants, and I
think it's something you might have to learn when you are young. What do
the other readers think? I know one woman who thinks we're all mad - the
only time she has ever peed in her pants was out of necessity, a true
accident, and she thinks anyone who deliberately does such things needs
their head read.

I can assure you I will be a part of Wet Set, and I really hope to be
able to contact some women pants wetters in the Brisbane area. I want to
contribute as much as I can, and certainly look forward to interaction
with other readers. I've been repressed for too long, and it's time I
discovered what really makes people like me tick."

True Report

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Source: Forum (DeskFish)
Subject: True Report: Wet@Bar  (f)
From: Whizzer (Forum User)
Date: Friday, 14-Jun-96 14:56:16 JST

This is a true report of an incident with my girlfriend.  She has 
written a report of her first wetting experience which I will  
post in a couple days.  Note: these posts were not motivated, in  
any way, by Jimbo's pitiful, whinny, plea for more masturbation 
material. 

Two weeks ago, I took my girlfriend to a bar.  She was wearing a 
mid-thigh length skirt with white panties.  They had dollar draft 
specials which were served in 24oz cups.  Usually I tell her she 
has to drink 3 bottles of beer before we can go home and she has  
to wait until we get home to pee.  Before we left, she complained 
that 3 beers were to much.  She never makes it home when she  
drinks 3, which for me is the whole point.  I yielded and we 
agreed on 2.5 for her and 1.5 for me. 

When we got there, we both decided to buy drafts because they were 
cheaper and, to my delight, bigger.  She was not happy. 
She swore that she would never do this again, which she always 
did.  I thought it was worth the risk because I knew she would 
not make it out of the bar. 
First drink.  No problem.  When I asked her if she needed to pee, 
she said no like she wasn't worried about anything.  I sat back 
and waited for the inevitable. 

Second drink.  Minor problems.  Half way through she announced 
that she needed to pee.  At this point she's probably at about 
60% of capacity.  Minor squirming commenced.  She shifted around 
in her seat a bit.  Once in a while she did the a 1 legged Butter- 
fly maneuver. (The Butterfly is when you open your legs wider  
than normal, then close them, touching your knees, then open 
again.) 

By the end of the second beer, major squirming had commenced. 
One of the things she does is move her ass as far forward on the 
chair as it will go, then as far back as she can.  Her skin,  
panties, and skirt don't move, they just give out slack, then 
pull tightly against her pussy.  Normally it's obvious that  
a girl needs to pee if she's doing this, but in a bar with 
music, it looks like she's dancing in her seat. 

She told me she couldn't finish the last half of my beer.  I told 
her she had to and then we could go.  She sat there for a while, 
not wanting to drink more because she would have to pee more.  I 
told her the faster she drank it, the sooner we could leave.  She 
had been pressing her thighs tight through this period.  She also 
rocked back an forth from time to time. 

As she was finishing or half, I noticed she started sticking her 
ass out and arching her back.  This is usually the last resort 
in public since normally girls don't grab themselves in public. 
She was done, so I asked her if she wanted to leave.  For her, 
the need to pee comes in waves of urgency.  She said she wanted 
to wait a couple minutes until the intense need subsided slightly. 
I told her I thought it would only get worse, but she said she 
couldn't stand up at the moment or it would come out.  I told her 
she better pull her skirt out from under her ass.  It was a loose 
skirt, so she did.  It hung down over the stool in the back. 
After adjusting her skirt, she told me her pussy muscles were 
twitching hard and fast, but there was nothing she could do to 
stop it. 

All of the sudden, she thrust her fist into her crotch and closed 
her eyes.  I asked her what was wrong.  She said she squirted. 
Her cotton panties absorbed most of the liquid, leaving only a 
small puddle on the stool, about the size of half dollar.  I 
asked if it was better now and she said no. 

Less than two minutes later, a look of extreme discomfort spread 
over her face.  She arched her back and put her head in her hands 
and her hands on the table.  I looked under the stool, and saw 
a small water fall forming a rather large puddle on the floor. 
Her yellow water was cascading down the legs of the bar stool, 
while her own slender legs supported alternating streams of their 
own. 

I rubbed her back and told her it was OK. She peed for about 5  
seconds.  I was getting worried someone would notice so I told 
her to stop.  She frantically moved her ass in a circular motion 
in an attempt to cut off her stream.  Her skirt was soaked, but 
it was hard to notice.  Before we left, she asked me to  
discretely wring out her skirt so no one would see drops of pee 
fall to the floor as she left. 

The ride home was almost as interesting as the bar, but I'll have 
to leave the rest of this for part 2. 

Whizzer
                                    

20 year old college girl

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I'm a 20 year old college girl. Let's call me Chantal. It's not my real name 
but the story I'm about to tell is a little too personal to use my real name.
It's the story of my first experience with wetsex. There's a close friend of
mine involved in it as well. Let's call her Anne in this story. It's not her 
real name either. But she would kill me if I used her real name. She will 
probably kill me when she finds out I'm posting this anyway. She just might do
it less painful if I use a fake name. 
Anyway, I'm bisexual and at times I feel strongly attracted to her. She's 
straight, but knows about my feelings and she's ok with me cuddling her and all
that innocent stuff. I love her. I'm going to tell a story of what happened 
between the two of us one night after we had gone out together. We were both
18 back then and in our freshman year.


>start

Anne and I were walking home from the club we always go to. It was a warm night
in late September. I was feeling a little bit drunk...I used to drink a lot back
then.
I said: "Girl, I sure have to pee as soon as we get home!"
Anne replied: "Yeah me too!"
We walked for a while, talking about nothing. I started walking faster as we got 
closer to my home. I had to go really bad. After a few more minutes, we reached 
my front door and I went looking for my keys in my pockets. Anne noticed how 
hasty I was.

"What is it honey? You have to go bad?" she teased me. 
"YES!!" I replied. I was really bursting by then.
She moved up close behind me and started softly tickling my waist. I couldn't 
believe she was tickling me! She knew I am ticklish.
I yelled at her: "Dont do that!" 
But she started tickling harder. I started to piss my panties. I wanted to cut 
it off but I just started peeing harder instead. By the time I could stop the 
pee gushing out of my body, my jeans were all soaked.
We went inside. The fabric of my jeans was all warm and wet, sticking to my 
thighs. I like that feeling, but I also felt really emberrassed at the time and 
I took my jeans off. I wanted to fully undress and take a shower.
But then I saw Anne going into my bathroom. My heart started to beat faster at 
the idea of getting even with her. I ran over to her and took her by the hand. I 
pulled her away from the bathroom, into the kitchen. I pushed her down on the 
floor, my hands on her shoulders and my knees on both sides of her waist.
She yelled: "Let me go! I gotta pee!"
I just smiled.
I saw panic in her eyes and that really turned me on. I took one hand of her 
shoulder and pulled up her skirt...pulling it up all the way over her panties.
I started firmly rubbing over her belly, then over her panties. I cupped her 
crotch in my hand and squeezed. She kept screaming that she couldn't hold it any 
longer. And I kept rythmically squeezing.
I felt some hot pee gush into her panties...over my hand. But she stopped peeing
right away. She couldn't squat while lying on her back.
I put my hand back on her shoulder, leaned forward, kissed her forehead. I felt 
my bladder was still half full. I was way too excited to stop...I wanted more...
needed more! I closed my eyes. Pictured a toilet. I pressured. I started pissing
in my panties. Wetting her skirt and panties under me. I kept pissing until I 
was empty. And she was soaked.
I rolled off her. Anne stood up to run to the bathroom, but she really couldn't 
hold it in anymore. As soon as she got on her feet, her piss came gushing out. 
She decided to squat on me instead. She stood over me, her piss bursting out of
her body, gushing from under her skirt, falling on my tits. My sweater got 
soaked and I felt the hot pee running over my boobs.

When she was done, I told her to undress and take a shower. I cleaned the 
kitchen floor and threw all our clothes in the washer. Then I joined her in the 
shower. I looked her in the eye. She looked back, emberrassed. Shr getting her clothes wet too instead of just
letting her go to the bathroom. She admitted that she had been turned on at the 
front door, watching me while I had to pee so bad. That she had tickled me out
of sexual excitement. I walked up to her and took her in my arms. Kissed her 
ear. Told her that I didn't blame her for anything. Asked her if she blamed me.
She didn't.

We haven't had wetsex ever since. Anne and I don't have sex at all. I'm engaged
to a guy now. All that remains is a real naughty memory that we share. Nobody 
else knows about it. And my fiance can only guess why I like wetsex so much.

                                                                                     

The Wet Coach Journey

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This wet story of mine took place, ironically, on a rainy day in
the middle of summer last year on a coach journey from Glasgow to
Aberdeen. I had spent a week on holiday in Glasgow and was taking
the three and a half hour journey home to Aberdeen by coach. After
taking my seat, which was the fourth from the back, two teenage
girls sat on the seat straight across away from me, after putting
their luggage away above the seats, but keeping their long
raincoats beside themselves. The coach was almost three quarters
full as it left Glasgow station at five o'clock, but nobody had
sat next to me, so as a result, I could see a clear view of the
girls which I was pleased about because I found them rather
attractive. They had began to drink a can of lager each, which I
never did because there would always be an urgent need for the
toilet caused by drinking alcohol which isn't very convenient when
the driver is unwilling to stop. The chatter was endless which I
could hear in parts and there were numerous giggles in their
conversation, and I was excited at the idea of how long they would
last before they wanted to pee.

The girl nearest to me had long, thick blonde hair down to just
below her shoulders, and was wearing a red woolly jumper and white
leggings which stopped at just above the ankles. Her friend had
long straight dark brown hair which was slightly longer than her
mate's, and wore a dark blue shirt and a dark blue skirt which
came down to below her knees. I felt like advising them to stop
drinking because I knew their bladders would regret their intake
of alcohol but I decided to stay quiet and witness the girls'
reaction to their inevitable need to relieve themselves. I say
this because I had overheard them mention Aberdeen in their
conversation, which seemed to confirm to me what their destination
was.

I was doing my best not to make it obvious I was staring at them
but the girl nearest the window smiled at me and I quickly grinned
back before looking out of my window. We were now 45 minutes into
the journey without making any stops and it was raining quite
heavily outside as the coach sped along the dual carriageway. I
think their drinking was now beginning to take its toll because
the girl in the skirt had her legs crossed and she was slowly
rocking back and forth. Her back was half against the window so
that she was facing in the direction of her mate's and mine, but
she still had her can of beer in her right hand. Meanwhile, the
girl with the leggings on had her wrists firmly pressed into her
crotch and was also moving her body in a rocking manner. Their
conversation, however, still sounded quite light-hearted,
punctuated with numerous giggles, but the girl with the leggings
suddenly exclaimed, "I'm dying for a piss!" to which her friend
retorted, "You're not the only one!"

I instantly felt a bulge in my jeans but at the same time trying
not to look as if I was intrigued by their difficult situation,
which I was. The hour mark had now been passed, and the coach was
making its first stop of the journey, so this was a golden
opportunity for the desperate girls to ask permission to leave the
coach for a few minutes. To my amazement and delight, they didn't
move from their seats and proceeded to start drinking a second can
each! Four people had left at the stop and nobody had got on so I
was still lucky enough to clearly enjoy their antics. The girl
with the white leggings parted her legs and put her right hand
down towards her crotch and she tilted her head down as she did
so. Her companion nudged her on the arm as she giggled and laughed
towards my direction as she said something in her ear. The blonde
also turned her head towards me as she smiled, and quickly crossed
her right leg over her left and rested her arms on her thighs. She
must have been searching for a wet patch on her crotch and I had
caught her red-handed, much to their amusement.

Everybody else on the coach appeared to be oblivious to the girls'
bizarre behaviour due to being engaged in conversation or asleep.
However, there wasn't much chance of yours truly falling asleep
when there was the possibility - or should I say probability
                             s she was almost doubled over while
sitting, her dark haired friend was now openly holding her crotch
tightly with both hands because she now obviously at bursting
point. She appeared to be revelling in her uncomfortable situation
and smiling to her companion while carrying on in a to-and-fro
position, occasionally looking over at me with a smile.

"Ooh, I'm starting to do it!" she announced giggling while still
leaning her back against the window. She had stopped rocking her
body and had now crossed her legs while pressing her knuckles into
her crotch. Her mate turned around and giggled at me before
turning round and put one of her hands on her wetting friend's
knee. They obviously didn't mind my fascination for their rather
immature behaviour which greatly increased my arousal at the
wetting. The girl nearest me had slipped her left arm under her
friend's skirt and was probably touching the soaking panties while
still in a cross legged position. My seat was slightly more
forward than the girls' seat, which explained my perfect view of
seeing the skirted girl's pee running onto the floor and darting
off into different directions because of the movement of the
coach.

"It's nice and warm," she said with relief, as her friend lifted
up her skirt to my amazement. They both looked at her wet panties
which were probably a darker shade than normal. Her legs weren't
crossed anymore and after she pulled her skirt down again she
admitted, "I'm still pissing myself - it won't stop Sharon!" It
was the first time I had heard one of them mention a name and I
could hear them easier now because I had edged my way nearer to
them, not hiding my interest anymore. There was now a huge puddle
under the girl who had her back against the window and incredibly
there was a trickle of water emerging from under the still cross
legged Sharon. The water was of course the result of Sharon peeing
herself, while enjoying her friend soaking her knickers and skirt.
The wonderful aspect of the whole wetting incident was that the
girls appeared to be enjoying their peeing antics and didn't care
if anyone could see it. Apparently, I seemed to be the only person
lucky enough to witness this glorious knicker wetting session,
which I'm happy to say.

Sharon slowly parted her legs and looked down at her wet crotch
with a smile on her face. Perhaps the effect of the alcohol had
had an influence on the naughty girls' childish behaviour, but on
the other hand, maybe they got a kick out of peeing themselves.
Sharon's friend reached over and touched the knee of her white
leggings before rubbing her fingers towards her wet crotch. The
wetness was instantly noticeable all around her crotch and on the
insides of her thighs, and was spreading further down her legs.
Her pee was beginning to gush onto the floor of the coach as she
had now lost all control, much to her enjoyment and her friend's.

"Lesley, I think I'm pissed!" Sharon laughed. I now knew the names
of both girls at last, who were indeed pissed in more ways than
one. The floor beneath the tipsy teenage girls was completely
soaked with their collective pee, shooting off in different
directions in lines, although I still don't think any of the
passengers were aware of the knicker wetting exhibitions of Sharon
and Lesley.

Lesley had now sat back in her seat and proceeded to carry on
drinking her can of beer, as did Sharon. Both were cross legged
and were successfully covering up any wetness stains apparent on
the skirt and leggings. Sharon turned and looked at me and said,
"We couldn't keep it in - we were absolutely bursting. You won't
tell anyone, will you?" I replied "Of course not. To tell you the
truth, I rather enjoyed it - you both turned me on." They were
both smiling at my response, and after Sharon whispered into
Lesley's ear, Lesley did an amazing thing. She put both her hands
under her skirt and proceeded to pull down her wet panties before
slipping them off of her legs! She loudly whispered across to me,
"Do you want a feel of them?" and I nodded back. She passed them
to Sharon who quickly threw them into my lap. I heluired how old they
were. "We're both eighteen - not too young for you I hope!" was
Sharon's response. They told me that they were visiting Aberdeen
for a couple of days, and would I like to show them the sights,
which I was only too willing to do.

There was still another hour to go before the coach was due to
arrive at our destination, and my new friends' peeing antics
weren't over yet! The effects of the alcohol were taking effect on
the girls' bladders again, and Lesley asked if I had a glass or a
cup. Luckily, I had a cup which I handed to her, knowing what she
was going to fill it with! Lesley sat on the edge of the seat with
her light blue skirt pulled back almost to her crotch, and her
legs slightly apart. She placed my cup against her crotch and
pissed into it, quickly filling it up. Sharon handed over to me
the cup of Lesley's pee and I started to drink the warm liquid.
Remarkably, nobody else in the half empty coach was aware of the
bizarre developments which were happening, thankfully. Lesley had
allowed the remainder of her pee to soak through her skirt and
seat, before dripping onto the floor again. Sharon, however, was
sitting cross legged again in a to and froing position before she
rose and asked if she could get by me.

She sat between myself and the window, cross legged again, and
softly asked, "Do you want me to pee myself here?" I replied "Of
course." She took my right hand and inserted it between her
crossed legs against her crotch. As we were smiling at each other,
I started to feel her warm water against my squashed hand, and I
could see her pee start to spread down the inside of her trouser
legs. Sharon's white leggings had still been a little soggy from
an hour ago, but they were now saturated again as she completely
pissed herself without even uncrossing her legs. "Oh that feels so
good - even better than sex!" she sighed, before we kissed each
other. Then realising the situation, she opened her legs to let a
flow of piss gush onto the floor. Lesley had been staring as she
had her left hand under her skirt, no doubt enjoying Sharon's
wetting scene.

Before long, Aberdeen bus station had come into view and it was
still raining, although I wasn't sure what was the wettest -
inside or outside the coach! Lesley and Sharon put on their
raincoats which came almost to their feet and successfully hiding
any wet tell-tale signs. After we stepped off the coach, we made
arrangements to see each other for another wet encounter.

But that's another story!

C.G. Cascade 4, (1993) p 14-18
                                

Chapter #11

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Posted by Wendy on November 03, 1998 at 12:39

The drive out to Vanessa's home would take us about forty minutes. It had become fully light while we had our breakfast and our short playtime in the Women's room. I was excited to the point that I was all nervous inside. I was going to get to make love with a girl I had found sexy from the first time we met. I had only realized that I actually wanted her in this way at last night's party. But, now speeding down the highway toward her home, I was having visions of her naked and eager...opening her arms and legs for me. I also had pictures of her pissing and wetting with me in dozens of ways. I was happy and anxious beyond conception. Such luck should only happed once in a lifetime. First, meeting Bill (if he should turn out to be what I was hoping). Then, discovering that I would have Vanessa for a lover, a wet lover! It was all too much. I feared that she would have second thoughts during our drive. Somehow, it being early morning (daylight) seemed to deaden certain urges. I would have to do something to keep her interest and excitement level up there, somewhere close to my own.

The damp area in the crotch of my levis kept calling for my attention. It made me want to wet some more. Primarily because of the tremendous turn-on it would cause, but also because it would rewarm the coolness that had taken over that spot. That gave me an idea that added another edge to my excitement. I turned to Vanessa and explained about what I was feeling down there, that I figured she was feeling much the same. I went on to outline how, with just a little squirt, we could warm things up…in more ways than one. Uncertainty filled her expression once more, making me feel as if I was moving a bit too fast again. I asked if I was pushing the wet thing too hard. She said she didn't know; it was all so new to her. She told me that she was already getting comfortable, even a little excited, at the idea of wetting; but she was afraid of ruining her seat covering. I said that I was only suggesting a tiny squirt of pee, just a trickle; not a flood. She said that it was all perfectly natural for me to talk of that kind of control; I probably did this all the time. (Actually, I didn't.) But, that she was afraid that, if she attempted to do it, she would likely just start going and not be able to stop! I looked around for something absorbent to put under her, asking if she knew of anything. Vanessa said to look in the back seat. She thought there might be an old sweatshirt there. It was on the floor and I stretched over the seat bask and retrieved it. I had her raise up and I put part of it under her bottom. The rest I pulled to its full remaining length toward me. Then I scooted over next to her and sat on it. Sitting next to her, I could feel her trembling very slightly. I asked if she were cold. She said, "nervous." I was almost too frightened to ask, but I had to. She said that she was very excited at the prospect of being with me; that she had never done anything with another girl, alone. She also said that she was afraid that she would not be very good at doing the wet stuff and she was nervous about my not liking her. Her words melted me and I snuggled into her side. I told her to stop worrying; that this was mostly new to me, as well. I said we both needed to warm up; that sitting on cold wet spots would only bring us down. Then I had an idea and I asked her to steer with her left hand and to cup her right hand under my bottom. She complied, saying that I was barely damp. I said to give me a few seconds and I'd take care of that. And she'd get a little encouragement in the bargain. I really had to push. I could feel that some pee was building in me. After all, we had consumed at least five cups of coffee apiece and only peed once. But it took some effort. Vanessa apparently could feel it each time I pushed. She said that it really excited her to feel my pussy pressing down into her palm. She even said that, knowing what I was trying to do, made it even more exciting. Again, her words melted me. She was, lovely, free and unbelievably sexy; she was getting into my favorite turn on!

I could feel the pee tickling like a feather, just above my urethra. Just one more push and I trickled a wet spot into my levis. Vanessa reacted with surprise. "I felt something!" I said, "hang on another second…" Then I got off a squirt that filled my whole crotch with warmth. This time she actually moaned with obvious delight and her hand made moved suggestively against my bottom. "Does that help any," I asked. She said that it made her wish her hand were inside my pants. As I undid my levis, I asked if it didn't make her need to pee, like putting a baby's hand in warm water. She glanced at me briefly and smiled. "Sort of…" I took her free hand from under me and slipped it into my jeans. She worked her way down to my wet hairs and started immediately stroking my pussy slit. I said, almost purring, "no fair!" Vanessa replied that she really liked doing this and my wetness, pee included, really turned her on. I protested that I could not pee any more if she kept doing that. I told her that it would really turn me on to know that she had peed in her pants with me and I wanted do just a little more, to encourage her. She stopped stroking and said that she felt like she might be able to do some; but that she wanted me to hold mine until she was almost ready to go. It would help most at that moment. I eagerly agreed to hold it.

I was positively vibrating with sexual energy as I watched her going through the familiar motions of trying to pee. She'd stiffen and strain. Then, she'd relax and sigh. She squirmed and did it again. Vanessa looked over at me a moment and smiled apologetically. "I really want to do this, but it's not happening." I told her to stop all effort and just allow it to happed. "Try pretending you are on the toilet." It was quite a few moments, maybe five full minutes. But, finally she said she could feel it about to happen. She gave my bottom a little squeeze and said it was time for her encouragement. It took me only a few seconds and I let out a hot squirt directly into her hand. She went, "ummm, that's nice." Then her demeanor changed completely and I watched a smile of total satisfaction spread across her face. She moaned, paused, then moaned again. Then she said abruptly, "shit! I can hardly stop. I don't want to stop!" I wanted her to do it all. But, for the sake of her car and our budding relationship, I admonished her to control it. "We can have even more fun, if we save the rest until we are home." She won the struggle, but said, "I thing I did too much. It is probably through to the seat." I reached under the sweatshirt and felt the seat. It was still dry, but warm. I let her know that all was well, if we quit right there. She sighed in relief and sneaked another look away from the road to me. She said, "I just peed in my pants!" I moved my hand to the space between her bottom and the sweatshirt. She was wonderfully wet and warm. I experienced another electric jolt of my sexual juices and told her that she certainly had. She said that she should be ashamed and embarrassed. I suggested, "But…?" She replied, "well…I do feel naughty as hell. But, it feel so sexy!" I smiled out at the passing scenery. Vanessa went on, "Wendy…I actually thought this would make me feel nasty, dirty, even depraved. But it doesn't! I think I feel wicked, as you suggested, last night; but I also feel incredibly sexy and turned on! I'm really glad we met and you showed me this." I snuggled even closer to her and reached up to kiss her on the cheek. I whispered in her ear that we would soon be at her place and that I was longing to put my face into her bottom and eat her until she came. I told her that wanted to make her orgasm over and over, again. Her hand was still pressed into my wet bottom and when she heard my words, she began stroking again. Only, this time she was concentrating directly over my clitoris. I was instantly climbing toward ecstasy. All of the sexual tension that had been building in me was breaking loose. I knew I would come in only a moment. As I gasped and wreathed to Vanessa's motions, I told her that lesson ten would be a first for both of us and that I really wanted to skip to it as soon as we got to her house. Vanessa stepped up the pace of her movements in my pants, her fingers slipping between my pussy lips and out again. As I was starting to climax, she said to me, "Wendy, I want you to pee all over me…and I want to pee all over you. Really. I mean it. Now cum baby…cum for both of us!"


Email: 

Chapter #6

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Posted by Wendy on October 30, 1998 at 08:37

I'd like to pick up where I left off, at that party in Victoria, because that story is not yet complete.

After Bill spread the combination of my pussy juice and my pee across his neck, in exactly the same manner that I had done earlier, I knew that we had formed a silent bond. I think he knew it as well from the way he smiled at my involuntary shiver, in response to his action. He kept his beautiful blue eyes locked onto mine; totally ignoring Vanessa's mewing, as she melted down from her orgasms.
Right then and there I knew, with a certainty beyond words, that he would be the one to whom I'd give my virginity.

I heard the kitchen door open. Looking away from Bill's incredible eyes, I saw a couple emerge from the flat, wrapped in a bed sheet. They glanced at us, on their way to the loo, and smiled knowingly. But I'll bet they didn't know about our little wet secret. They made it to the corner on the wall but could go no further. There was another cue
formed for the single toilet that extended, now, to the area of the patio where we were. I became acutely aware of my (our) nakedness and the obvious story it told. I looked down at Vanessa. She was cuddled next to the chaise with an arm across Bill's chest and her cheek lying in the sticky goo she had spread all around his belly. Her eyes were closed and she was smiling like a Cheshire. The scene made me want her all the more. And it took me as a shock that I could stand there in a puddle of our combined piss, naked to all who passed, and still be thinking randy thoughts! My eyes strayed to the area just below where her chin rested lightly on Bill's groin hair. I saw his penis lying against one thigh, glistening and still red from his recent erection. It's a funny thing, but I call a man's member a cock (or staff, etc.) when erect. But, when returned to its normal condition, it becomes a penis to me. Bill's was wonderful to look at, even as a penis. Now, I hadn't actually seen many 'grown-up' penises at that point, except in nasty mags and
such. But Bill's was special to me for some reason. I found out, later, that his was just over the average length. But it was considered quite thick in proportion to its length. Anyway, I thought it was just about the most beautiful thing I had laid eyes on in my seventeen years.

More people came out and joined the line to the loo. And I felt more and more exposed. Besides the night air was turning my skin to goose flesh. I guess Bill noticed the bumps. Because he suggested that we go inside where it was warm and see if we could scrounge another joint. I noticed that he did not suggest that we get dressed. Vanessa finally stirred and felt like going in as well. She was hungry!
We all gathered up our clothes and got under way for the kitchen door. We were met by more people coming out for the loo. One of the girls said that she just could not wait in such a long line. She was too desperate for a 'wee'. Two other girls responded likewise. One of the guys said to look over in the corner by the balcony. We all looked and there stood three guys, in various states on undress. They were all arching streams of pee over the rail and down to God
knows where! One of the girls protested that guys have it too easy. Another said that she was nearly wetting anyway and she walked over to the rail and squatted with her knees up against the lower crosspiece. Her bottom was nearly touching the deck. She no sooner attained that position than a geyser burst from her. The sound of her pee hissing out was clearly audible from the kitchen door. During all this Vanessa had gone into the flat and Bill nearly followed. He had stopped, holding the door open for me. I hadn't noticed. I was just standing there, transfixed, watching something
that I had only fantasized. Bill's let the door close, rather loudly, and came back to where I stood. He wrapped his arms around me from behind and shared his body heat. I snuggled into his embrace. He asked if I wouldn't rather come inside where it was warm. I said in a moment, never taking my eyes off the peeing girl. I just had to see her whole act! But I didn't tell him that. Then, seeing that she could do this, two other girls left the que and approached the rail. Two guys followed them. Now, the rail was only so long. It could not accommodate everyone there. So the guys demurred to the ladies, who immediately set to peeing. The guys, I noticed did not look away. They seemed as interested as me…well maybe not quite.

"You find this display interesting?" It was Bill's voice, close to my ear, whispered. I merely nodded, rubbing my cheek up against his and feeling his whiskers. "If we are going to stay for the whole show, I'll have to join them. The whole thing is making me have to go, too," he said. Actually I was wishing I could pee right then. But I was
empty. I turned around within his naked embrace and put my arms around him. (It wasn't easy to turn my back on that continuing wet spectacle.) I looked up at him and said something that came totally without volition. "Would you pee for me, privately?" He looked at me quizzically, then said, "sure." I stood on my toes and kissed him long and hard. His response was gentler than expected. Then I took him by the hand and lead him into the kitchen. (Now I've told you that, as kids, we'd play naughty by peeing into many kinds of 'forbidden' receptacles. Well, my imagination was racing and I was getting giddy from the rising randiness!) I opened a couple of cupboards before I found what I wanted. It was a glass mixing bowl! Then I led Bill out onto the front landing. It was up two flights of stairs and two corners blocked any possibility of view from the street. We'd also be able to hear anyone coming up the stairs, long before they got to where we were.

Bill was still smiling that quizzical smile at me. Only now the questions were plain to read. I nearly lost courage, but I guess my horniness sustained me. I just went ahead with me plan and knelt down before him. I held the bowl up below his penis and smiled up
at him. He is an intelligent guy. I did not need to explain, or ask…or beg. He just kind of leaned back a little let his body relax. I saw his eyes unfocus for a second, then he looked down at me and smiled again. I heard it before I looked down and saw it. There it was again…only right in front of my nose! His stream was full and strong. The pee glinted yellow in the landing's light. It began splashing, as the bowl filled. And I could smell its pungent odor. I was in heaven and still breathing! Bernadette of Lourdes could not have looked more rapt. I watched until he was done. I even enjoyed the little dance his penis did when he shook it! I didn't say it, but I wanted desperately to set that bowl down and masturbate right there!

Bill said, almost apologetically, that he was finished. I looked up at him, but could find no words. He reached down and took the bowl in one hand and helped me up with the other. I was trembling and not from the cool air. "You really like to see people pee, don't you." He asked. I could only nod. He added, "I'll let you in on a little secret. I
got unbelievably turned on when you peed in front of me a little while ago. It actually put me over the edge when I came. I don't remember being turned on like that in quite a while. And I can't say that I've been keen on seeing anyone pee, since I was a kid." I nearly collapsed from knees gone suddenly weak. Bill looked at the bowl and then at the door to the flat. "We really can't go back in there with this." He looked around the landing and suggested that we leave it
behind the potted plants. I nodded again. I was terrified to speak. Thought it might ruin the moment. But he paused and looked at me with a smile, now tinged with devilishness. "Could you manage another pee for me?" I muttered, "I'll try." And try I did…for more than five minutes. The best I could come up with was a couple of disjointed trickles. But, he seemed satisfied. It was evident that he was enjoying my trying almost as much as my doing.

We stashed the bowl and went back into the flat. People were back and still partying. Most of them were still naked or very close to it. There were fresh clouds of smoke in the atmosphere and the warmth was most welcome. Bill put his arm around my waist and led me to the kitchen. At that very moment…walking naked through a crowd of nearly all strangers, I felt a happiness that I'd never known. Bill prepared sandwiches and I poured two glasses of wine. He
asked after Vanessa. I looked around and just shrugged. I knew she could take care of herself and I was suddenly not in a sharing mood. It was just off midnight and the party showed no signs of slowing. We sat naked at the table and refueled our bodies with barely a word.

We both knew there was more yet to come…

Chapter #1

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Posted by Wendy on October 30, 1998 at 09:06

Here is my very 1st ever account of my wetting experiences. (This will be a 1st installment and I shall try and keep things in chronological order.)

My first experimentations with wet fun began, much the same
as many of you have related. When I was a little girl I used to play house and doctor with the other kids in the neighborhood. This, of course; inevitably lead to exposing our privates and demonstrations of how our plumbing worked. Now this was happening when I was between 7 and 10, so technically I was not exactly getting sexually aroused - no hormones yet. But I still recall feeling extremely naughty
and truly enjoying that feeling! We used to do all the peeing for distance and into various containers things. One time I carried things a bit too far, when playing the baby in a game of house. I not only peed into the diaper my friends had put on me...I actually pooped in it too! I can remember feeling really sneaky and loving the feeling of my poop oozing from between my butt cheeks and gooshing into the cloth. Problem was noone would change me! And they never asked me to be the baby again.

Anyway, my first serious sexual feelings associated with peeing started when I was 12. One summer, on a sleep-out in
Alberta with my Girlscout Troop, I found out that wetting was not just naughty. It was a turn-on! I awoke sometime shortly after midnight from a mildly erotic dream and realized that I had one hand in my panties. I was a little shocked, as I had not begun masturbating (at least consciously) at that time. When I withdrew my hand I
discovered that my fingers were wet. I reached down and found that my panty crotch was damp, as well. I'm not sure what triggered the thought exactly. I had not wet the bed since about six years of age. But suddenly I wanted to wet myself just as I had done when playing house. Perhaps it was just that I had to go, or maybe it was something to do with the dream. Anyway, the thought alone was exciting and I decided to try trickling just a little bit of pee into my
panties. I looked around at the other girls in their sleeping bags to make sure that they were all truly asleep. I suddenly felt really naughty, even wicked. I was about to
wet my pants right there among a bunch of girls that I'd known for a long time. If even one of them knew... I wasn't even sure why I wanted to do it. I just knew that I had to because of the exciting little shivers that I was experiencing.

Well, I tried and tried, but nothing happened! I knew that I had to go. I could feel the pressure of a rather full bladder. But I just could not bring myself to pee in my panties, nor in my sleeping bag! I must have tried for half an hour. I was flushed from the effort and from the tremendous state of being well and truly turned on for the first time that I could remember! I'd allowed my hand to return to my, by now very hot, bottom and was (purposely) rubbing myself. I was very aware of just how naughty I was being. It felt as if I was a quivering balloon swelling with heat and threatening to burst!

It was all very well, but I wanted to pee! And right there in my panties, among all those girls...not behind some tree! But I just could not locate my "go" button. Eventually I gave up and got out of my bag, very quietly, to avail myself of the bushes. When I reached a discrete distance from the group...but still in plain view in the bright moonlight, I pulled my panties down and squatted to pee. Just as the
first drops trickled out I got a flash! I could still have a naughty bit of fun out there. It took a lot of concentration to stop, after trying to pee for so long. But I managed. I
reached down and felt the warm wetness on my nearly hairless
pussy and experienced a strong shiver! It was an amazing
discovery, this simple pleasure that shook my so. I was still going to be naughty in my panties and that thought sent another shiver through me. So I quietly stood up and pulled my panties back into place.

I stood there in the moonlight in my t-shirt and panties and pictured myself going in my panties and the thought kept making my warmer and warmer, all over. And that balloon began to expand again. I practically felt as if I would be glowing in the night and attract the attention of the others. I guess I underestimated my need to pee. Because as I stood there marveling in those new and wonderful feelings I began to go. It was an all-of-a-sudden letting loose and I
was caught off guard. I didn't only wet the crotch of my panties as I had intended. I flooded them and made wide rivers down both inner thighs! I remember, to this very day, how the warm pee running down my bare legs tickled and excited me. I also remember the sound of my pee splattering into the puddle that was spreading around my feet, and praying that noone else heard. It was over as suddenly as it was had started. I was drained in less than 30 seconds...of pee that is! My act had flooded me with a rush of almost overwhelming sensuality. I started rubbing myself with
renewed passion. But, suddenly, I felt very exposed, standing there masturbating through pee-soaked panties in the open. I remember looking back in some amazement, and no little pleasure, at the puddle I'd left shining there in the moonlight, as I sneaked back to my bag. I was shivering from the cool night air and from the excitement as I snuggled back into that bag. I began masturbating in ernest and had several little jerking orgasms (though I doubt that I
recognized them for what they were). But I still recall being overcome with several flashes of heat and fits of shaking at the same time. When I was finally sated and ready to sleep again, I found that I had just one problem. I had
underestimated the amount of pee that I had brought back into the bag. In all the excitement I was unaware of just how soaked my panties were when I crawled back in. And, in the heat of my self-pleasuring frenzy I had not noticed just how wet my bag had become. I had to get out again and put on dry underwear. I threw my soggy panties way off into the brush and took a towel back into my sleeping bag to absorb as much as possible.

In the morning, as we aired our bedding, I kept looking around at my friends. I wanted to see if anyone notices the damp spot in my bag, or how different I was from when we turned in the evening before. I was a little disappointed, almost, that noone understood what I had done.

And I often wonder if anyone ever found those panties and just what they thought of em???

What I did on my summer vacation

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Posted by need a name on June 01, 1997 at 03:26:03:
Sheila, for that matter, was one of the
few girls not wearing a cowboy hat, but her hemline seemed to be the standard. There's
something about a girl in cowboy boots, cowboy hat, and a mini skirt that would
probably send the Pope to confession. I was getting a whole new perspective on
Montana as kind of a happening place.
We got huge sodas and popcorns and sat through the bullshit feature. Pretty tame
stuff, and poorly done. But a decent shocker of an ending. Sheila was a cool date. She
sat pressed up against me and held my hand and squeezed real hard at the scary parts.
When it was over, we walked out and she waited while I went in to take the
mother of all pees. I was beginning to wonder what else she might have in mind and
decided then and there to carry condoms with me at all times in the future. We got in her
truck and she started driving me back to my motel. "That wasn't a bad movie," she said
after a while.
"I've seen worse," I said.
"There were a couple scary parts. I almost peed my pants when the guy came out
of the closet with the knife."
"Yeah, I've got bruises on my arm from that part."
"Sorry. You know, did you ever wonder, like people always say that, they almost
peed their pants. I always wonder what if I really did?"
"I expect it'd be wet." I hadn't really flashed yet on the entire scenario. Between
beer and soda, the girl had to have a good half gallon of liquid in her system, and unless
she had a remarkable metabolism, most of it was secure in her bladder. Or insecure,
perhaps, given the pressure it had to be exerting.
"Well, yeah," she said. "You know, I really should have gone back at the theater.
I've got to go real bad, now that I start thinking about it. Oh god, why did I have to say
that about peeing my pants?"
"Hey, you've got to go that bad, just pull over on the shoulder. I won't look."
"No, I'll wait. I hate to try peeing outside. I usually end up soaking my
underwear as bad as if I'd gone in my pants. You know, I can't get that out of my mind,
going in my pants. Not just the tactile, all warm and wet, but what about the like,
naughty girl thing? You know, here I am twenty six years old and wetting my panties
like a little girl."
"Well, if you've got to piss like you say you do, this might be your chance to find
out."
"You think so? I mean, it wouldn't just totally gross you out?"
"No. I've got a shower in my room where you could clean up after."
"God, I'm getting excited now. I might just do it. Whoa! I just did! Just a little."
"How much?"
"Enough. I'm wet. How much do I need... A little more. I'm not sure..." she took
her foot off the gas and slipped the transmission into neutral and started coasting toward
the edge of the road. There was a funny new noise that it took me a moment to identify
as coming from her crotch. She had her eyes half closed, barely watching the road, and
moaned softly. "I just let go," she whispered. "It feels soooo good." She took my hand
and put it on her soft thigh then guided it up her skirt. I gently stroked the hot and
soaking wet crotch of her soft panties; she responded by arching her crotch up to my
hand and peeing on it even more.
I could feel the effort she was making to stop pissing, and much to my surprise,
she did stop. I quit looking at her wet thighs and looked at her face, and she grinned
impishly. "You're not totally grossed out are you?"
"Not grossed out," I managed to say.
"Do you think this is kind of erotic?"
"Yes. Kind of."
"Would you like me to come to your motel and we could do this some more?
You and me?"
"I'm all pissed out."
"No, not like that. You and me together, and I wet my pants."
"Yes. But they're already wet."
"Then we could go to my place. I could put on clean clothes and pee in them."
"Okay." She put the truck in gear and did a screaming U-turn and headed back
toward the main part of town.
"I've got a confession," she said. "I kind of did this on purpose. Not from the
start, but after you got rid of those guys for me, the way you did it, it really sort of turned
me on. And I've always wanted to share peeing my pants with a guy, but who? Everyone
knows everyone around here, for hundreds of miles, and picking up on the hunters that
come through town is like an invitation to get gang raped. So here we are. You get to be
the guy. Can you imagine that I would get all excited from wetting my pants?"
"Funny you should ask that," I said. "I can. And, since we're being all candid, I
like it a lot. I've seen girls wet themselves before, and always thought it was one of the
sexiest things I've ever seen. Not like some little girl has an accident and starts to
blubber, that's just sad.
But you take a pretty young woman, all desperate, and she just can't
wait and finally accepts it and it's too much of a relief to get too upset about it, that's right
down my alley."
"Right down your alley, Huh? How about getting a little more wild than that
even?"
"Like how?"
"Like watch me dirty my pants. Not wet. Soil."
"I can think of one way that wouldn't impress me at all."
She sighed. "That's too bad. Wait, which way?"
"Well, something to do with a certain time of the month."
She was quiet for a few moments as she drove. Then suddenly she gasped. "God,
I thought I was sick! Yuck! What made you even think of that?"
"Well, I used to clean bathrooms, public bathrooms. Most of the lady's underwear
that got stuffed in the trash or down the toilets was ruined by a situation similar to the
one you're in now, or the one I believe you're proposing. But for a few days each month
business picked up for another reason."
"We can be adults about it. I wasn't even thinking about my menstrual cycle. I
was thinking about...pooping. Taking a mad dump in my panties, which I'm about to do
accidentally regardless, by the way."
"Right. That's cool by me. But, there's one thing I'm sort of curious about. You
think I might get an opportunity to hose you... er...screw you tonight? 'Cos if you do, if
that's a possible in your book, I don't have anything with me."
"Don't have any what?" she asked slowly.
"Like, rubbers."
She wheezed out a sigh of relief. "For a minute I thought you were gonna say
something about a logging accident, like you got your nuts caught in a saw."
"Oh. No."
"I think I've got some rubbers my ex boyfriend left. If I didn't throw them away..
Do they have an expiration date?"
"I don't know. Let's just stop in at a store or something."
"Wait a minute, what makes you think you're gonna need rubbers?"
"Hey, it's the nineties. You know, there's lots more serious stuff then VD these
days. You're the one I'm thinking of, I haven't exactly lead a celibate life, and it's just for
your own protection."
"Listen bub. Just because I'm wearing a short dress and hanging out with you
doesn't mean we're gonna jump in the sack right away. There's the question of what I
want to do. Maybe I just feel like sit around and talking. I like to talk. Especially to
strange men."
"That's cool with me. I'd just hate to have to interrupt a moment of passion with a
trip to the drugstore. Nothing personal."
"Well, no offense taken. And your response was polite enough that maybe we
should stop. On one condition. My skirts all wet, and it's totally obvious that I pissed my
pants. I want to go inside with you, and sort of bunch up my skirt so my panties show.
How would you like that?"
"Seems like it'd be kind of embarrassing."
"Well, you like the idea of me having pissed my panties. Maybe I like it too. I'll
tell you mine if you'll tell me yours."
"My what?"
"Your favorite panty wetters. Somewhere, you've seen a girl pee in her panties
and it drove you wild. Tell me about it. And I'll tell you about my favorite panty wetters,
girls I saw, plus my favorite times. Okay?"
"Okay."
"Well? You go first."
"Oh. Shoot. Okay. Well, I guess it probably started back when I was just out of
high school, I had a job cleaning shitters. You know, restrooms? And I'd find all this
underwear in the trash. It's not like I went rooting through the bags looking for panties to
sniff, it was just right there in front of me. On the floor, draped on the sink or the back
of a toilet. Nice little underwear, not old lady stuff or little girl stuff, but obviously the
panties off a grown woman, of a size probably I'd find attractive. Soft cotton, satin and
lace, bikinis and French cuts and string bikinis and all the cool shit you look at a girl and
hope she's got on under her clothes, there it was, with a big wet spot in the crotch and
halfway up the ass. Totally honest, I was a little squeamish about even touching
discarded panties. It's like, yuch, some girl took a piss in these and threw them away. A
few times I even got to see it happen first hand. I obviously had to close off the lady's
side while I was cleaning it, and quite a few times the extra time it took to ask me
permission to come inside was more than they could handle. Of course I was petrified of
getting in trouble somehow so I never tried to capitalize on the events when they
happened. But there was something there, undoubtedly. I saw quite a few girls pee their
pants in school, but in grade school it was just an excuse to tease them, and in high
school the hottest two babes in the entire school were also the wettest two girls. They'd
piss their pants, and woe be to anyone who gave them friction, or any other pants wetters
for that matter. It was like, a girl would pee her pants, and everyone would judiciously
avoid looking at the puddle under her chair or the dark stain on her dress. That was just
then way it was."

---

Follow Ups:

Tinker request and story F desp & wet

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Posted by Bob on February 27, 1999 at 15:00

Hey Tinker, I love your "Dream Team" cheerleader stories, and I know your fans and mainly lovers of wet panties and skirts, but I just love it when you add an occasional jeans wetting too. Hope you don’t mind if I do a little copycat story. Maybe it will inspire you to add some of your own.

CHEERLEADERS ON VACATION

The girls got a great deal on a tour of the Irish countryside. After a long hard season, the cheerleader squad was due for a vacation.

After a long day of shopping in a local village, the girls decided to head back for their cottage. They could have taken ride back with the girls they rode in with from the cottage next door, but since it was only a four mile walk they decided to hike back and enjoy the sights.

There were so many interesting things to see along the way that nearly three hours had passed and they were only half way there. Suddenly they were all getting very aware of their over-full bladders. They had each drank several mugs of beer at each of the village’s little pubs and were all a little light-headed.

Susan and Donna were wearing skirts, so they had nothing to worry about. They were quite used to going through their panties while on the job. But Sharon and her friend Anne were both wearing tight faded blue jeans, so the wetness from an accident would show like a billboard for all to see.

Anne finally blurted out "Damn I’ve got to pee". "Yeah, me too", Sharon said. " Maybe we should pick up the pace a little. I don’t want to look like a fool in this little town. I’d like to be able to come back here again. Besides, our new friends Jane and Mary are going to see us coming back." "Yeah, we’re all wearing sweaters with the team logo on them, so it would be embarrassing for the whole team." Susan said. (All the girls were wearing white long sleeve cotton turtlenecks that the cheerleaders use for workouts. Even though Anne wasn’t a cheerleader, she was wearing one that Sharon had given her, so it was like all four girls were representing not only their team, but their whole country.)

"I think even if we walk fast, it’s going to take a least another half hour, maybe we should find some bushes to hide behind," Sharon said. I don’t think I can make it that long anyway."

They all looked around at the landscape looking for trees or bushes, but it looked as though there was no place to hide well enough to drop their pants to pee. Anne was starting to get a little panicky. "What are we going to do, I don’t think I’m going to make it either." She said.

Susan said, "well let’s just keep going, maybe something will turn up". So they walked another few hundred yards but nothing seemed to look any better. Anne was walking a little crooked at this point, occasionally rubbing her crotch to keep from leaking. Anne suddenly stopped in her tracks and bent over holding herself trying to keep from flooding her jeans. She said almost crying "Oh no, I’m not going to make it, what am I going to do?"

Donna said, "I have an idea, why don’t you put on that sweater you bought in the village, it’s so long it will cover your crotch at least." All the girls had bought Aran sweaters at one of the local shops. Sharon and Anne had bought turtlenecks. Donna and Susan had bought cardigans. I’m getting chilly anyway Susan said, I’m going to put my sweater on anyway.

They all opened their bags and put on their sweaters. The sweaters were all tunic length and reached halfway to their knees. "Mmmmm, that looks so good on you Anne", Donna said as she lightly rubbed around Anne’s waist and tugged down the hem of Anne’s sweater. "There that will hide most of it, your safe now," Donna said trying to reassure Anne.

"I can’t just pee right in my pants, it’s just not right", Anne said. (Anne was not a cheerleader, but Sharon had told her of the little cheerleader secret.) "I know you all do it, but I just can’t. Besides the pee will show all down the insides of my legs, everyone will still know that I wet myself, let’s keep looking for a place to hide."

"Well I don’t see any alternative at this point", Sharon said. "Maybe if we sit down on a rock, the pee will only soak around our crotches and dribble out the back." These sweaters should hide most of it. I’m not going to make it any farther so I’ll go first."

Sharon looked around and found a nice flat rock, pulled her sweater up out of harms way and sat down on it. "Well, here goes nothing", Sharon said as she let loose the flood gates. Almost immediately you could hear that distinctive hissing sound as the glistening pee stain spread all over the front of Sharon’s jeans and a stream of pee ran down the rock.

A look of total relief came over Sharon’s face as Susan and Donna both spread their legs apart in cheerleader fashion and let lose too. The look of ecstasy on all the other girls faces combined with the splattering noises under Susan and Donna’s skirts was just too much for Anne as she ran to another rock, pulled up her sweater, and sat down. Anne was already peeing as she sat down and a little stream ran down her right leg.

Anne let out a little squeal and a giggle as she said, "Oh my god, I can’t believe I’m doing this. It feels so weird, almost like an orgasm", as she gave herself a little unconscious rub. As all the girls finished peeing Anne and Sharon stood up and surveyed the damage. Their crotches and butts were completely soaked but the wet stains didn’t go all the way down to their knees. They both pulled down the hems of their sweaters to see how much was covered.

Sharon beamed as she said, "see these sweaters hide everything, I’m going to wear mine more often." Anne said "Yeah, these are great, now I can pee anywhere without getting in trouble. Mmmm. That felt pretty good, I don’t know why I haven’t tried this before", as Anne gave her crotch another rub through her thick woolly sweater, "and this sweater keeps my wet pants warm too."

Susan, Donna and Sharon all looked at each other with that knowing smile realizing they had found another convert.

When the girls got back to the cottage, Jane and Mary were just pulling up in their van. They all met in the driveway in between the two cottages. "Well, how was your walk", Jane asked. "It was interesting" Anne said as she blushed a little. "Well we had an interesting drive too", Mary said. "We missed the driveway here and we must have gone twenty miles before we realized that we were lost."

As Mary was talking, Sharon mindlessly reached into the pocket of her jeans to get the keys to the cottage slightly exposing her wet state. She quickly yanked her sweater down, but not before Jane caught a glimpse of her wetness. Sharon turned beet red as she realized Jane and Mary both knew what she had done. Sharon quickly tried to think up a good excuse to explain her state, but Jane said "well it looks like we’re not the only ones who couldn’t find a bathroom in time."

Jane was also wearing an Aran style tunic she had bought in town too. She unbuttoned her sweater to show a big wet stain on her jeans just like Sharon and Anne’s, extending up into a semicircle on the stomach of the sky blue cotton turtleneck she was wearing underneath. Anne showed off her wet jeans too and after everyone had confessed the tales of their own accidents, Mary said, "All this talk about pee, now I have to go again."

Everyone else was squirming a little So Anne said with a little impish grin, "well we’re all wet already, we might as well just go in our pants again." Everyone looked at each other shrugged and said the usual what the heck, and why not. Just then a stream started to pour from under Mary’s plaid skirt, some running down the legs of her sheer white knickers and some just splattering into the dirt under her.

Within seconds all the girls were peeing forcefully into their pants again. This time wide steams of wetness was spreading down the inside pant legs of Jane’s, Sharon’s, and Anne’s jeans, filling their socks and sneakers and making puddles around their feet. Everyone just smiled and sighed with relief.

THE END