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Rebecca looked forward to the local festival next Sunday. There would be a
parade, and some outdoor festivities, and all kinds of other nice things to
liven up a boring day in July. When she returned from school on Friday
afternoon and had a cup of tea together with her mother, they exchanged
some little titbits about what would be in the parade and where they should
be standing to see the most of it. It was clear that they should go out
reasonably early in order to catch a proper place. But that would also mean
a long wait out there, Rebecca pointed out, and that in the burning July
sun. "No problem," her mother replied, "Just wear something that protects
your arms and use sun milk. I'll take a few bottles with us so we won't
have thirst, and we can easily hold out a few hours." It seemed like a good
idea, with only one twist. "But if we drink, we'll have to pee," Rebecca
complained. Her mother shrugged: "Not more than normally, and we'll be
sweating as well." "But if we have to pee, we have to walk all the way
back home or use those horrible public stalls at the mall. We'll lose our
place and miss a great deal of the parade!" Without even looking up from
her knit work, mother answered: "Of course not, silly. It won't be a
problem at all. Some rain would come in handy, yes, but even when the
ground is dry we can always find a proper spot to relieve ourselves. A
patch of grass is enough, and we can just go over to the park to look at
the parade. Lots of grass there, even almost up to the road. One of those
hills would be ideal."
Rebecca hesitated for a moment. "What do you mean, just relieve ourselves?
I'm not going to wee out there with everybody looking at me!" Her mother
questioningly looked up and stopped knitting. "Who would see you? How could
they?" Rebecca now got really puzzled. "Well, taking down my pants and
squatting down in my bare bum would attract some gazes, I suppose." Her
mother laughed and continued knitting. "Yeah, I think it would." And then
it was silent again.
"But then, how would we do it?" Rebecca insisted. Her mother put down her
knitting work in her lap this time. "Don't tell me you never sneakily weed
on the grass before," she said, a bit uncertainly. Her daughter shook her
head: "No. Is there a trick?" Her mother sighed and looked out of the
window. Girls were so sheepishly following examples these days. "Didn't you
ever just wee through your panties under your skirt?" she asked, quite
directly. Rebecca's eyes widened and for a moment she was really startled.
But then she shook her head again: "No, I don't think so." "Really never?
Not even when you were still a little girl?" "No, really not. You know
that I had an accident once when I was seven, but after that, I never let
myself be fooled again." "Well, in that case you should learn it. It is
very convenient on occasions such as next Sunday. I will need it, that's
for sure."
Rebecca was speechless. For a minute she just listened to the quiet ticking
of her mother's needles. Eventually she reopened the conversation: "So I
should just wee in my panties?" Again, her mother stopped knitting. "You
make quite a point out of this, don't you? Yes, you just wee in your
panties. If you take a bit of care, nobody will notice anything and it is
over in a minute. You'll be dry again soon enough and at home you just take
a shower. You would need a shower anyway after standing in the sun for so
long." Rebecca considered all this, but was not convinced. "It still is so
weird, wetting my panties on purpose. Mum, I'm fifteen! I cannot just wet
myself like a baby any more!" "Don't bother dear, I'm over forty and have
no trouble, so you shouldn't worry either. But if you don't want to and
choose to miss a part of the parade, be my guest." Now this was a difficult
choice. Missing the parade was definitely out. Not drinking would be
unpleasant to say the least. But wetting herself?
"Look, if you don't think that you are up to it, just have some practice.
It would be a good idea to try it out once, before you have to go at the
parade with people around. Why don't you practice it in the garden right
now? Dad won't come home for two hours and you can shower before we have
dinner. Come on, let's get you some clothes to practice in." Mother rose
out of her chair and headed for the stairs while Rebecca could hardly move.
Talk about surprises!
When Rebecca entered her room, her mother had already opened up her
closets and was browsing through her daughter's clothes. "Why not putting
on the same clothes as you are going to wear on Sunday. They must be not
too warm, so most clothes are not suitable anyway...you have too many
jeans, Rebecca...ah, this one might do." She pulled out a nice, light
summer dress, in bright colours. "Here, this suits the occasion very well.
Haven't you anything else?" Rebecca shrugged: "Not that many skirts,
anyway. Most are too warm, and the others are too short." Her mother had
taken out one of her minis and held it in front of her. "No, this wouldn't
be such a good idea. It would be too revealing." Then she looked for other
garments. "You should wear a nice, thick pair of panties. Thin panties
won't muffle it enough and you'll wet your dress if you're not careful.
These might do." Some pairs of blue, green, and red panties came out.
"Given your dress, I would opt for the red ones. The others might show in
the bright sunlight."
Reluctantly, Rebecca undressed. When she stood in only her bra and panties
and wanted to take them off, her mother remarked: "Oh, don't bother, just
wee in your current panties. As long as you don't always wee in the same
pair, they won't bite out." Slowly Rebecca put on the dress her mother had
selected. There was nothing wrong with it, nothing at all, but having your
mother select your clothes when you are fifteen is a bit silly. And then,
of course, there was something else. Unfortunately her mother simply
continued talking about it: "On the other hand, there's no need to hurry
for a change after you've wet them. Going twice or three times in the same
pair on a day is no problem at all. Alright, that's good. Now put on your
socks and shoes and you're ready. It should be exactly like if you were
going out for the parade, remember." Rebecca looked up to her mother:
"Wouldn't it be a good idea to just try it out in my panties alone, on the
toilet? After all, it's..." Her mother insisted: "No, that wouldn't help
you one single bit. And if you make a mistake in a minute, it won't matter.
Tomorrow there will be enough opportunities to practice some more. Okay,
this looks good. You have a nice figure, Rebecca. That dress really fits
you. Now, wait until you have to go and then go into the garden and wee in
your panties. It isn't difficult, just take your time. I'll be in the
kitchen if you need me."
For a few minutes, Rebecca lay down on her bed to ponder her options.
Despite the obvious positive sides on this whole enterprise, just going out
into the garden to wee in her panties seemed quite odd. On the other hand
it was something with a nice naughty twist, especially since her mother had
approved of it so that she did not have to be ashamed. Rebecca sat up and
slid her dress up her thighs to look at her pink panties. She knew how her
little girl's panties had looked like after her accident. She also
remembered a bit how it felt. Without further thinking, she went to her
washing basin and drunk down a few glasses of water. If she was to get wet,
then properly.
Half an hour later, Rebecca descended the stairs and passed through the
kitchen. "Are you going to wet yourself now?" her mother plainly asked.
Rebecca just nodded and continued towards the garden. "There's a towel next
to the door," her mother added, "I've done the floor today." Rebecca exited
the house and slowly walked down the garden path towards the little shed in
the back, looking for a suitable spot. But then she realised that she could
actually go anywhere, except maybe on tiles. It surely was a strange
experience, walking here in her full clothes and knowing that she would
soon be denying her age and her training and some other things that she had
taken for granted not one hour ago. Actually, Rebecca started to like this.
Her mother presented the whole thing as just a convenience during a long
parade, but the act of purposefully working towards a pair of wet panties
without needing to be coy about it was quite exciting.
Now it became about time to think of technical details. How to wee your
panties was no problem, after all she couldn't miss them, but taking care
of where it went afterwards was more tricky. She thought back to her only
conscious experience with this, when she was seven, but this did not bring
forward any usable ideas. She had been playing outside, had put it off for
too long, and suddenly found herself with a growing feeling of warm wetness
between her legs. Rebecca remembered squatting down in a reflex, more
because it seemed appropriate than out of necessity. She also remembered
the dark bottom in her little girl's panties when it was over, but nothing
of the actual event or of the things following it. What did she do after
squatting down? Curiously look up her skirt with her knees wide open while
the stain grew and a steady trickle dripped down? Panic and cry? Or just
inconspicuously finish it off without attracting any attention at all?
This last thing was what Rebecca now tried to accomplish. No matter her
excitement, it was a practice session for tomorrow, and she'd better be
cautious. Squatting was out, certainly with her summer dress reaching down
to over her knees. Maybe she could just sit down on the grass with her
dress pulled away? No, that needed too much preparation. The only viable
way seemed to be standing up. That most probably would keep her dress out
of danger of getting stained, but Rebecca expected to get her legs and
shoes wet instead. Well, so be it. She could also open her legs just a bit,
not too conspicuous, just enough to keep her shoes dry. She stopped walking
and opened her legs, and indeed it should be quite unnoticeable. When she
would not be looking down, at least not all the time, and continued
conversation, nobody would probably detect anything at all.
Rebecca now really had to wee badly, and slowly returned back to the
kitchen door. For practice, she should just play watching the parade and
talking to her mother while doing a wee, forgetting about her panties. But
this would not be that easy, given her current excitement. She could not
possibly start wetting herself without a short moment of concentration, she
was sure of that. After it had begun, it would get a lot easier. But she
knew that she had to announce her intentions to her mother just before she
went, to prevent embarrassing situations. She smiled as she thought of it:
"Mum, I'm going to wet my panties now," followed by an approving nod and
then a few seconds of silence as she started to push. And then... Even
thinking of this made her heart pound in her ears. Still just strolling
down the garden path, Rebecca decided to try it this time without any
announcement. She would just stop walking, open her legs, and immediately
wee hard in her panties, or at least she would try. If that would work out,
she knew that she could take any opportunity. If not, she knew she
had to prepare.
At that moment, the kitchen door opened and her mother came out, carrying a
small box filled with kitchen litter, heading for the compost heap halfway
the garden. She looked at her daughter and just asked: "And?" Rebecca shook
her head: "Not yet. But it won't take much longer." "Better hurry, because
dinner will be ready in half an hour." Rebecca did a step aside to let her
mother pass her, and then turned to follow her down the garden path. But at
the last moment, she hesitated. "Tonight there's a rerun of that great
movie of last week," her mother continued. "I want to see it. You can join
in if you want, instead of hanging out in the dancing all night." Rebecca
swallowed and while her mother tipped the box onto the heap, she parted her
legs under her dress. Now it would happen. "Ermmm... I don't know. That
movie... I'm not sure...", she stammered, while trying to wet herself. She
felt her face turning red while her mother muttered something about
culture, scraping the garbage out of the box. Behind her back, her daughter
tried furiously to begin wetting herself, but despite her need to go,
nothing happened. Well, almost nothing. Rebecca's hands unconsciously moved
to the front of her dress, as if they wanted to shield her crotch from
view. But there was nothing to be seen anyway, because her dress was much
too wide to reveal any crotch line at all. It wouldn't work. Forget about
it.
Just as Rebecca gave up and relaxed, she felt herself making some progress.
It seemed that relaxing was better than pushing hard. So she quickly
relaxed some more, and put her hands behind her back, standing quite at
ease on the garden path. It came rapidly now, she could feel it
approaching. Relax, Rebecca, relax! Despite her beet-red face, she managed
to stay calm and tilted her pelvis a bit backward for a reason she did not
know. She took a deep breath and held off just before her pink panties
would turn dark. It seemed a lot of fun to wait until her mother turned
back to her before she actually started to wee in her dress.
Very soon thereafter, her mother finished dumping the kitchen trash and
swivelled around. She faced her daughter standing with her legs opened just
a bit too much to be called "modest," looking at her with some challenging
and naughty gaze in her eyes, and a quite red face. Her mother blinked
twice and asked: "And?" As an answer, Rebecca shuddered and closed her eyes
for a moment. But astonishingly quickly she opened them again, wide this
time, and instinctively looked down her legs. Her mother saw Rebecca's toes
curl in her slippers when her wee started to explore the uncharted areas of
her panties. Of course nothing could be seen yet, but she knew fairly well
what was happening to her daughter. "Calm, Rebecca. Don't look like you are
wetting yourself. Just do a wee and forget about your panties." Hell, how
could she forget about her panties when she had never been so aware of them
before? She could feel every drop going in and spreading out between her
legs. It now moved further down, still further... even her bum got warm.
Without a dress, it would have been impossible to go this far, and yet, she
was by no means finished. Then, the first drop hit the solid earth between
her feet, soon followed by more. With almost unhuman strength, Rebecca
managed to stop the flow and hazily stared to her feet while the dripping
slowly subsided. Her mother nodded: "Good, for a first time. Don't overdo
it: a few little trickles are a lot easier to hide than a complete bladder
full. You should always start doing it before you really need to." That
said, she passed by her daughter, still with her legs apart, and walked
back to the kitchen door. "Remember we have dinner in half an hour."
With her mother going back inside, Rebecca took in the new emotions that
overwhelmed her. This was not something to be ashamed of, or just a
convenience: this was bloody exciting! The warm wet feeling down there was
enticing to say the least, and the way her nipples ached did not leave much
room for doubt either. Slowly she realized what she just had done. She had
purposefully wet herself before her mother's eyes while both of them knew
perfectly well what she was doing! She had parted her legs in advance and
waited until her mother saw what was going on before finally taking the
plunge! Now that was something. Having an unfortunate accident, alright,
but this was about as much on purpose as you could get, dressing up and
announcing her intentions half an hour before the "accident." And then not
just start sneakily and be wet before her mother noticed, so that there was
nothing to do about it any more. No, wait until her mother knew that she
was waiting for her, and then practically count down from five. Rebecca
still was amazed about the ease with which she had done a good wee straight
into her full clothes. It seemed so natural. In fact, she realized, it WAS
natural. But the panties she wore made this natural thing to a completely
marvellous affair, still heightened by the plain fact that she wore her
full dress and was standing up as well. One of those three things would
have been exciting in itself, but all three... and she had still lots of
time and wee left!
She couldn't care less about wetting her legs or shoes any more, she wanted
to experience as much of that wonderful, relieving and thrilling sensation
as possible. Confidently, she returned to the back of the garden, feeling
her wet panties softly rubbing her bum and other things down there. It made
her glow, and the lonely trickle spiralling down her right leg made it
naughty as well. Again now. Small bits at the time, her mother had said.
She opened her legs, just a tiny bit this time, took a breath, and pushed
out a long, hot spurt. It hissed under her dress and a second later a
waterfall clattered down. Ho! This was too much of the good thing. With her
legs now getting wetter, Rebecca stopped weeing and shuddered from delight
when she felt her panties continue leaking for a short while after. She
promised herself to wear panties as thick as possible tomorrow, to cherish
this wonderful feeling. Her pretty dress still showed no single sign of the
mess somewhere between her legs. And she had to wee like never before.
Next experiment, she thought. Going while walking. She slowly set out for
the kitchen again and halfway just let loose. Despite the relatively little
amount of wee that she spurted into her underwear, her legs now definitely
got wet. So this was out for Sunday. Okay, reprise. When the dripping had
stopped, she walked up to the living room's window and looked at herself in
the mirroring glass. Nothing special, except maybe for the colour of her
face. Calmly she parted her feet a bit and observed the changes this made
in her posture in the mirror. Nobody would really notice. Without taking
her eyes off her image in the window, Rebecca did another firm gush and
felt it wash around her sensitive parts, soak through her panties and then
disappear for a moment, to return into existence in the form of tiny little
droplets which misted her calves. Her mother was right, when she did just
this kind of trickles, nobody would notice that she was actually wetting
herself. Of course, this also assumed that you did not really had to go.
Rebecca already looked forward to the moment, next Sunday, on which she
completely unnecessarily would look aside to her mother and just tell her
that she would need to wet herself. Oh, the very idea of just telling such
a thing when there was absolutely no reason yet to wee in her pants!
But now, she HAD to wee, and not a little bit either. To hell with tiny
bits. She could practice, her mother had said, and trying out new things
fitted in very well with that description. Looking in the mirror again,
Rebecca now really spread her feet, almost one meter. Her dress was just
wide enough to follow without stretching. To enhance the image of a self-
assured independent lady, she firmly put her hands in her sides and pushed
her chest forward. There was no time for further preparations: her body
decided for her. It welled up from deeply within her and came in such a
torrent that her panties could not pass it through in time. Rebecca moaned
as she felt some kind of puddle ballooning between her legs, followed by
what seemed an explosion of hot sensations. Without any regard for her pose
or her clothes, she now just pushed as hard as she could, spoiling
everything below her waist. Strangely enough, what she saw in the mirror
was not at all similar to what she felt. It felt like she had no dry fiber
left down there, but her lightly coloured dress did not show a single
stain. And the tropical shower between her knees barely stood out against
the background. Rebecca almost wanted to take another pose to insure that
her dress got soaked as well, but possessed just enough willpower to keep
going on, with her knees bent a bit, that is. She threw it all out and only
regretted the fact that her bladder was not bigger. But eventually it
stopped, and not too much later even the dripping ceased. With a sigh,
Rebecca pulled her legs together again, only to be surprised by some little
streams that had kept themselves hidden in the fabric of her panties. She
giggled and made some uncertain steps, to see if there would come down
something more. But that was it. A last trip to the compost heap, just to
walk with soaked panties up her dress, a final push for the last few drops,
and she headed for the door.
When she was busy drying her legs with the towel, her mother asked her if
she liked yoghurt for dessert. Rebecca still shook her head on so much
indifference to such a wonderful thing as wetting your panties. She lightly
walked through the kitchen on bare feet, leaving damp foot prints behind,
and dashed up the stairs to the bath room. With her dress hiked up above
her waist, she curiously inspected her panties. They had taken quite a
beating, so to say: completely stained in a uniform dark pink from halfway
up the front to about the same height on her bum. It was a sexy sight, she
thought, and it made her feel weak. Her mother called up from down stairs:
"Could you please rinse your panties out, dear? It will make them last
longer." Of course she would. Rebecca pulled her dress over her head and
headed for the shower stall. Showering with her panties on was nothing
compared to what she had done in the garden. But before she turned on the
water, she had to help herself. Her tingling groin badly needed attention.
Rebecca closed her eyes and reached down. First with her left hand, and
then with both, she carefully stroke the wet area down in her panties. She
imagined standing on the lawn and watching the parade while a pee came up
that she did not hold back. It came closer and closer, but she was suddenly
overtaken by something else. It came over her incredibly quickly and she
found herself back on her knees. Wow. Panting, she wondered a bit about the
unexpected power of her orgasm. Must have been her wet escapades. A few
minutes later, she had recovered enough to turn on the tap and start
showering. The hot water and the relieved feeling in her groin, together
with a soapy sponge made for the most relaxing experience in a long time.
That evening, Rebecca had to fight herself for not just taking a walk
through the garden, and in bed she couldn't resist to replay the events
again in her mind. Another shattering orgasm followed, and she drifted off
to sleep.
On Saturday, she spent a lot of time browsing through her wardrobe and
trying on different skirts and dresses, posing in front of her mirror.
She also tried out the absorbing capacity of some of her more flashy
coloured pairs of panties under the tap. Eventually she settled on one
of a few older pairs of thick, almost towelling, red panties. Putting
them on alone caused some excitement already. When she posed in front of
her mirror wearing these panties and a nice dress, she almost did it
right there. She decided to keep these clothes on for the rest of the
day, just to toy around. But they kept haunting her, and it was with
grave sadness that she went to the toilet around noon. After that, the
longing to go out into the garden ceased, and Rebecca even forgot about
it during lunch. Afterwards there were girlfriends to visit and gossip
to exchange, and then back home for dinner.
After dinner and dishes, Rebecca went up to her room to do some home work
for school. Halfway her maths problems, she heard the front door being
opened and closed again, followed by the familiar sound of her father's car
being started and driven away. At first she did not really notice this, but
gradually the idea floated upwards in the sea of her mind, and eventually
it reached the surface. It took one more minute to convince herself that
she should take this opportunity. She put down her pen, cleared her throat
and went downstairs. Her mother was watching TV. Rebecca still was not
comfortable with the idea of just asking permission, so she lingered a bit
until her mother told her to either sit down or go away. Then, she asked
with a tiny voice if she could maybe practice some more. Just to be sure
that it would work. Her mother shrugged and zapped to another channel: "I
don't see why you should, but if you want to practice pants wetting, go
ahead. You don't need to ask me next time, just practice and rinse out your
underwear afterwards." Rebecca did not believe her ears. Without saying a
word, she bolted for the door and hurried through the kitchen, snatching a
towel from somewhere.
This time, she did not even have to change. She just walked into the garden
and wondered what to do first. But actually, there was not much to do. It
was incredibly uncomplicated. Rebecca looked down to her dress and let it
come. Practice paid off. Before she could even develop a blush, she was
standing with her legs spread out on the garden path and listened to the
soft hiss under her dress, barely noticeable even in the quiet evening air.
It was even more exhilarating than the day before. Her towelling panties
took much, much more warm liquid before they started to leak, and Rebecca
really weed in her panties for quite a while before the first drop noisily
hit the ground. She felt her warm wee being wicked back up her bums and
slowly spread in her underwear, sending all kinds of sensual signals up her
spine. Unfortunately it was over soon, because she did not have to go that
bad at all. Thinking about her little mishap of yesterday, Rebecca
carefully pulled her legs back together while stooping down a bit and
squeezing her bums tightly. A last dribble splattered onto the ground and
her left leg caught a few drops, but that was it. A few wary steps and the
little puddle on the ground disappeared in the dark. Rebecca realized to
her amazement that nothing could be seen of anything that she had done,
neither the puddle (which would be soaked up very soon anyway) nor any
stain on her clothes. The only evidence of the event was well-hidden under
her dress. She could go out right in the clothes she wore now.
Which was exactly what she did.
Rebecca went home relatively early that evening, officially because she had
to get up early next morning to catch the beginning of the parade, but also
because she couldn't wait to get out in the fresh air. Two girl friends
walked home with her, and Rebecca played with the idea of just going in her
pants while chatting with them. But that seemed too bold, and she wouldn't
be free to enjoy it as much. She would get her chance soon, her first
chance to wet herself on the public street. Her friends lived one street
further away than Rebecca did, so they would drop her off, chat for a
minute more, and then walk home while Rebecca went inside. That would be
the moment. And this time, Rebecca truly needed to pee, because she had
been saving up for two hours. It was even quite uncomfortable just walking
home, and arrived at her house, her friends just wouldn't leave. Rebecca
was almost hopping on one leg by that time. But eventually they wished her
goodnight and turned away. Yes!
Even before they disappeared in the dark, Rebecca had quickly looked
around. Nobody in sight. The evening smelled crisp and clear, and she could
feel the chilly air reach up her dress a bit. Her red towelling panties had
long dried up. Of course she could just walk up to her house and go to the
toilet inside. She could. But she really did not want to. It was so much
more fun to just stand here and feel it coming up deep under her dress.
Feeling a bit daring, Rebecca slowly walked away from the entrance to their
little front garden. As if doing it so close to safety was a pity. But she
did not dare to stroll off too far. Fifteen meters was more than enough.
For a moment, she just stood still on a patch of grass in between houses.
Still nobody in sight. Your last chance, Rebecca. If you don't do it now,
you won't dare to do it tomorrow either. She contemplated for a few
seconds, but her body and mind both screamed for the only solution. Alright
then. She reached through the thin fabric of her dress and pulled up her
panties tight, just to feel them better. This simple motion set off all her
alarms and suddenly she felt warm and really excited. Her hair started to
tickle a bit and she had to shake her head to make it stop. Nobody in
sight? No. All clear and safe. It would be a lot. Better take care of her
shoes. Rebecca opened her legs real wide, taking a pose that could not be
mistaken by any spectator. Tomorrow, this would definitely be out, but
tonight, it would be much nicer. Yes, she would be wetting herself totally
on purpose and not even try to make it seem like an accident. Legs apart,
looking down to her own dress, calmly wetting herself with her hands firmly
on her thighs. Coast clear? Yes. She took a deep breath and looked down to
her groin. Her wee was pushing against the last barrier. Beyond it, only
endless plains of red fabric, eager to spread it out. Rebecca really liked
standing like this, ready to go in her panties for real, but just holding
back for no reason in particular. She could back out now, because she had
proven that she could wet herself if she wanted to. Would she back out? She
smiled at the idea.
Just a little push and it was too late. A single, hot jet of wee gushed
straight into her clothes and Rebecca felt it spreading out between her
legs. Oh bliss! The warm and wet feeling crept around for a while, until
her panties won the battle and muffled it. Again. The next spurt went
directly for her bum and even went up a little before getting absorbed.
Again! The slight sound of hissing now took on a different tone, as if her
panties started to get saturated. A single droplet went down her right
thigh. She was undeniably wet, very wet now. Without a dress, it would have
been a disaster, but in the current circumstances, it triggered all her
nerves and just begged for more. Well, more she had. Wave after wave of hot
wee washed through her pants as Rebecca let it all go. Soon it clattered
down between her legs, muffled a bit by the grass, but clearly audible in
the quiet evening. Still wetting, she looked around again, but there was
nobody there. Together with the warm cosy feeling between her legs, the
relief on her bladder was so satisfying that she couldn't help but moan.
Looking down to her feet to the waterfall on the grass, she revelled in the
idea of doing this tomorrow during the parade. With her mother. Rebecca
wondered how her mother would do it. But then, there were not that much
options. Not with a long skirt. You part your legs and wee in your
underwear, it's as simple as that. Pressing as hard as she could, Rebecca
managed to get a few spurts more in her panties, but eventually she dried
up. It took a while before the leaking stopped though. But standing out in
the open with your legs apart after having thoroughly pissed yourself on
purpose was quite exciting, to say the least.
After finishing her little game, Rebecca bolted up the path towards the
front door and let herself in. She was so wet up her dress that she left a
little trail in the hallway, but her need to get to the mirror and the
privacy of the bathroom outweighed everything else. When the front door
fell into the lock again, her mother dropped back the curtain on the first
floor and quietly went back to bed.
When Rebecca woke up she knew it would be Pee Day. A good start was half
the work, so she rolled on her back, spread her legs and pulled up her
knees slightly, and fantasised about all the wonderful things ahead while
lightly rubbing herself. It came quickly and strongly, and Rebecca almost
wanted to pee in her bed right there during the first spasms. But she
managed to hold it in, and to prevent a serious accident she went to the
loo immediately afterwards. She heard that her father was already
downstairs, but her mother still was in bed. Rebecca went back to her own
room and began to dress up. Red panties, of course. Her long dress, for
sure.
For sure?
Slowly, Rebecca dropped her summer dress again and reached into her closet.
Out came her favourite mini, a green pleated short skirt made of soft
supple material. Technically it would be no problem at all. Just do not
bend over and keep your knees together. Blushing, Rebecca stepped into it
and looked at herself in the mirror. Yes, no problem, except for the
feeling of exposure that always accompanied this skirt. But her firm red
panties could be exposed as long as it seemed just an accident. Unless, of
course, she actually HAD an accident. And this skirt allowed for more poses
than her long dress: she could just sit on the ground with her skirt spread
out, squat down with her feet a bit apart, sit on a bench, or stand up with
open legs. Actually it seemed quite conservative from her mother to advise
her to put on a long skirt. Alright. Rebecca pondered a moment over the
idea of putting on black tights to make her appear less leggy, but this
would be most impractical to say the least. Instead, white knee socks and
sneakers seemed more appropriate. A T-shirt and a light sweater made her
outfit complete. She posed a while in front of her mirror, legs apart, and
blushed already. It would be a great moment to actually start wetting
herself under this little skirt. She promised herself to be careful and not
to save up too much, to prevent a real gusher like yesterday's evening.
Instead she would be wetting her panties real quick after they were on the
grass and leak often. Maybe wet a little harder while squatting. Oh, it
would be wonderful!
When she left her room, Rebecca noticed that her parent's bedroom door was
open. So her mother had got up as well. Out of habit, Rebecca glanced
inside and saw her mother standing in front of her mirror, trying dresses.
What? Why did she need to fiddle around with clothes if she knew exactly
what she had in her wardrobe? When her mother took off a dress that seemed
not satisfactory, Rebecca saw to her astonishment that her mother wore hip-
hugging, red panties---completely against her habit of always wearing white
normal ones. Silently she watched as her mother put on another dress, and
posed in front of the mirror again. Apparently this one was better. And
then, she checked how far she could part her feet before the dress would
block. Far enough, clearly; she pulled her legs back until they were about
two feet apart and smiled at herself as if in eager expectation. Rebecca
was so surprised that she almost cried out. Quickly she hurried down the
stairs and concentrated on preparing breakfast. But her heart rate would
not drop significantly.
On their way to the parade, both carrying a bag with food and refreshments,
they talked about anything except what was foremost on Rebecca's mind. She
knew her mother had dressed up to wet herself and it was pretty clear that
she would actually do this as well, and most probably she would *like* it.
How mean to let her daughter think that she did it just out of convenience!
But Rebecca had played her role well, and when her mother remarked that her
short skirt might be a problem, she had just answered that it would only be
more convenient when she had to go, pretending that she had no deeper
feelings about it.
When they had arrived at the spot they had picked out, they installed
themselves under a tree on the lawn, on a slight slope leading down to the
road where the parade would pass. There were other people around, but the
area was so vast that nobody really came close. When they sat down on the
grass, Rebecca carelessly kept her knees open and enjoyed irritating her
mother. She wondered who would go first. She felt no single sign of a pee
coming up yet, and having to push heavily to get some drops in her panties
seemed not appropriate. But Rebecca promised herself to go as soon as she
had some significant contribution to make. A few little wettings seemed
more fun than a single big one. In the mean time, she could take on
suggestive poses to make her mother think that she was actually preparing
for a wee. Rebecca noticed that her mother indeed fell silent and tried not
to stare at her daughter as soon as she squatted or just casually stood
upright. But the same held for Rebecca; her mother couldn't move a limb or
her daughter noticed it. What a great experience. Even without actual
wetting you could have a lot of fun!
When the first marching bands and floats of the parade had passed by,
Rebecca's mother rose to her feet and started to walk a bit around the tree
because she grew stiff. From the corners of her eyes, Rebecca followed her
every move, but it was too early to expect something important. After all,
she felt nothing herself. Her mother walked back and said: "I'm going to
pee in my panties dear. Do you think people would notice if I wet myself
with my legs opened, or should I squat with my skirt out of the way?"
Rebecca was startled for a moment. "You mean... you already have to go?"
Her mother nodded. "Yes dear. I'm afraid I drunk too much coffee this
morning. I really need to go now if I want to stay out of trouble later. I
can hold it a lot longer, but why would I? After all, we're dressed up for
it, isn't it?" Her smile now told Rebecca everything she wanted to know.
Her mother was as eager to get wet panties as she was herself. "Well,
there's nobody around and they are all looking at the parade anyway. Just
do it right as you stand now." Her mother nodded, looked around a bit, and
then shuffled her feet apart. With her hands in the pockets of her skirt,
she pushed the fabric a bit out in front while Rebecca rolled on her belly
and watched her mother prepare herself. She winked: "Have fun." Her mother
smiled back. "I will." She looked down and began to push on purpose. It did
not take long: "Here it comes...it's to late, I can't stop it now...oh yes,
here it is...yes...YES!"
Except for her heavy breathing, there was nothing to see, but Rebecca knew
exactly what was going on under her mother's skirt. With her eyes closed,
her mother let it happen and began to wee firmly in her panties. Her face
told enough. Soon, a tiny stream dripped down between her feet, and Rebecca
wished she could feel the sensation herself now. Under her skirt, her
mother's panties would now be dark-bottomed, and each gush would send up
those fascinating feelings of comfort and pleasure. She now even bent her
knees a little and started sort of hopping a bit up and down, as if some
movement of her pelvis increased the warm feeling of moist fabric grinding
over her skin. And it took remarkably long for her to finish. Just as
Rebecca, her mother took quite a while to drip out, looking around with the
pride of a child that had just stayed dry for a whole day.
After it was over, her mother carefully sat down with her skirt pulled away
and asked for a coke, still glowing. Rebecca smiled and reached in the
cooling bag. Out came two cans, and together they downed both of them. The
parade became more interesting all the time.
Half an hour later, Rebecca announced that it was her turn now. She had no
real urge yet, but finding a toilet would be convenient. Fortunately she
happened to wear one. Would she be squatting or standing up? Standing up
was the bolder way, but she was not sure that she dared to show off so
much. Her mother suggested a combination: wet standing up until it starts
to leak, then walk over to the tree and squat there to finish it off. That
seemed fun. Rebecca walked down the hill, to the fence that separated the
lawn from the side walk. Some people were standing there, but it was not at
all crowded. She leaned on the fence with her arms, a little bit bent over,
but not nearly enough to show her panties from behind. Yes, this would be
perfect to get wet. While following the parade, Rebecca slightly parted her
feet, just enough to separate her thighs. She could feel her skirt move in
the breeze. But her firm red panties would stay hidden. A squad of
majorettes just passed by, twirling their batons and themselves, flashing
their panties in all directions. Those girls just had to have accidents,
Rebecca thought. They needed to hydrate to keep fit during the parade, yet
there was no toilet available for hours. Well, maybe they just did not care
about a drop or two. Their dark blue panties would not show stains anyway.
Rebecca's red ones would.
Just then, there was a hiccup in the parade and the squad had to stay in
place for a while. Their captain ordered "at ease" and the girls let go
their formal poses, chatting with each other while roughly keeping their
assigned positions. Rebecca smiled. This would be the moment for them to
relax just a little. After looking left and right to the people standing
next to her, she fixed her eyes on one majorette, who stood a bit separated
from the rest and constantly checked her skirt. Imagining that it was her
standing there on the street, Rebecca took the same pose and checked her
own skirt as well. And when the majorette kept silent and just bit her lip,
Rebecca took a breath and did a firm spurt warm wee in her underwear. It
almost made her moan, so great it felt. It spread rapidly all through her
panties, but as expected, did not yet drip through. It would be very well
visible though. After a last look at the majorettes, Rebecca slowly turned
around and went back to the tree where her mother was still sitting down.
It felt very exciting to walk there in her mini and her obviously pissed
panties, but it was even better to know that the best still had to come.
Halfway the tree, she heard some commands being given. Rebecca turned
around to the parade and saw the majorettes getting in position again. Now
she also saw the woman in civilian clothes following the squad with a
shoulder bag. With a grin, she imagined what spare material would be in
that bag. Because nobody looked back up the hill anyway, this was as good a
place as anything to continue. So she parted her legs again a tiny bit and
with her arms crossed in front of her chest, Rebecca prepared for another
spurt in her panties. Amazing how quickly you learned to overcome your
initial inhibitions to let go in your clothes while standing up. Within
three seconds, her wee leaked out her panties again and this time, she did
not stop. When it became too obvious what was happening between her legs,
she just squatted down and let her panties have it all with her knees
firmly closed. Hissing softly, her wee found its way to her bum now, and
soon her whole crotch was one warm flowing pool of pure delight. She tried
to project the feeling onto a few majorettes, but the girls did as if
nothing happened to them. It must be their training, Rebecca smiled. After
dripping out a bit, she rose to her feet and carefully walked back to the
tree where her mother had been observing all her movements. Even before she
could sit down, her mother reached out to give her another can of lemonade.
And took one herself.
Half an hour later, they both went down to the road to look at the
majorettes, talking about yellow voodoo all the time. Her mother's longer
skirt turned out to be a powerful secret weapon. Fully convinced that they
had caused at least two major accidents, they went back to their tree and
attacked new drinks. Rebecca secretly inspected her panties, and was amazed
by the amount of dark-red fabric she encountered. It sort of crept upwards.
Her mother assured her that her skirt would not pick up stains, but
suggested to wee more firmly nonetheless. So again half an hour later,
Rebecca found herself squatting, this time with her knees apart, firmly
pushing everything she had into her panties. Her mother still preferred
standing with her legs apart, further this time.
After they had finished the last drinks, they went home, and paused for a
while on the lawn in their garden. Rebecca now parted her legs as far as
she could and gushed until her last drop had passed into her panties,
looking as much as a girl who was wetting herself as possible. Her mother
on the other hand took off her shoes and socks and modestly stood on the
path with her legs tightly together. While a great smile developed on her
face, her panties got everything that remained in stock and a puddle formed
around her bare feet with her wee cascading down her legs, invisible under
her skirt.
After that, they bolted for the bathroom and laughed at each other's
spoiled underwear until the shower head made an end to it. Sundays were
great. And you had about 52 of them each year.
- o - o - o - o -
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