Evelyn Comes Home By Tinker, July 1994

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It had been a nice evening with my friends, and while I cycled back home
through the almost deserted streets with my best girlfriend, we chatted a
lot about the new boys that we had met. At least two were really cute and
we absolutely wanted to see them again next week. Two corners from where I
live, my friend went her own way and I rode the last hundred meters alone.
It was still quite light, so I had nothing to fear; not that there was much
chance of anything bad happening to me, but still.

When I approached my home and stopped pedaling to freewheel the remaining
distance, I sighed and hoped for the best this time. You know, I am one of
those skinny and pale girls that even in their early twens sometimes have
trouble holding their pee. It is quite embarassing, to say the least, but
I've to live with it. I had not wet my bed anymore since I was about twelve,
but occasionally something went wrong. A typical situation in which I often
had a wet experience was coming home after a nice evening with my friends.
I would have been drinking a lot, and would have gone to the toilet just
before leaving, but the cycling back apparently held back the urge well
enough for me not to notice. Until it was too late, that is.

Last time I came back from such an evening I had just stepped off my bike
and was looking for the key of our front door, when I suddenly experienced
something strange in my belly. It seemed like I was melting inside, and
before I could react or even realised what was happening to me, I felt my
crotch getting warm, and then something started to leak down my legs. At
that moment it became obvious what was happening to me, and with a red
head, teeth grinding and thighs clutched together, I thoroughly soaked my
jeans. There just was no point stopping, it was already far too late when I
noticed. When I carefully glanced down, I could clearly see the wet stain
going down between my legs, and I only hoped that my bum would not reveal
too much to people that might just be looking. Actually, wetting myself did
not feel that unpleasant; as you might know, the feeling is warm and cosy.
But it left such a mess that after finishing the soaking of my pants, I
hurried inside and went straight into the bathroom to undress, get a
shower, and forget about it. I left my wet garments in the laundry basket
for my mother to clean up, and removed the experience from my memory.

I really had forgotten about it all, until I was dressing up for the next
evening together. I was already sliding myself into my tight jeans when I
remembered the awful experience of two weeks earlier, and sat on my bed for
a few seconds. Knowing myself, I knew that I could not do much about my
slight medical problem. Fortunately, it was quite predictable. I had two
alternatives. Either I could not drink at all, which seemed very dull and
would certainly provoke questions from my friends. Or I could try to put on
a diaper to catch the stream if it went wrong. Uh no... *when* it went
wrong. Sigh. Wearing a diaper under a tight pair of jeans was not that
attractive, and besides, I did not have them anymore; the last diaper went
down the garbage can quite some years ago.

I sighed again and tried to find another solution. Basically the problem
was solved if I could manage to find a toilet immediately after stepping
off my bike. But I had to put my bike against the wall, open the front
door, hurry through the hallway, hope the toilet was not occupied, and
undress myself. All in two seconds. Not possible, not even with practice. I
would end up peeing in my pants again, and not a little bit. Although my
mother had never mentioned anything to me about those wet clothes in the
laundry basket, I knew she knew, and I really wanted to prevent it.

When my eyes roved around my room in search of nothing special, I suddenly
noticed my closet with skirts. I rarely wore skirts anymore, since that was
not the fashion of my environment. The tighter the jeans, the better. But
for someone with my problem, I thought, a skirt would at least be a partial
problem-solver. I would still wet myself, but the amount of clothing ready
for the laundry machine would be vastly smaller, and I figured I had a good
chance of getting away with it unnoticed. Slowly I slid down my jeans
again, and walked towards the closet. Given the nice weather, I chose my
long blue skirt, that I always wore with a wide belt around my waist, and a
white blouse. While stepping into the skirt, I looked for some old pair of
panties, since I did not want to wet the new pair I was wearing and that I
had just bought that week. For a moment I considered going out without
panties, but that seemed too bold. I hiked up my skirt, pulled down the
white elastic panties I wore, and replaced them by the oldest pair I could
find. They were pale pink, and just barely elastic enough to stay where
they belonged. But my skirt was long enough to prevent any peeking.
I sat down on my bed and put on my boots, as black as my belt, and made of
the same smooth leather. Looking at myself in the mirror, I really was
happy with the general look; the skirt nicely enhanced my waist and hips,
and covered up my upper legs which were not as slim as I wanted them to be.
I put on a nice thin golden necklace and my earrings, and went out.

So there I was, almost home, still sitting on the saddle of my bike, and
hoping for the best. After all, it could really have been just stupid bad
luck the last time I came home. Maybe it was just cold, or I had really
drunk a lot, or we cycled home way too slow. Anyway, nothing inside me
indicated that anything was at stake, and to be honest, I thought that I
was getting away with it tonight.

I bumped the bike up the sidewalk, crossed into our little front place (no
garden, only concrete), and stepped off. A slight, exciting tingle went up
and down my back, and I felt my cheeks blushing a bit. For a few moments I
stood next to my bike, eyes closed, and expected the embarassment to come
any moment. But my pink panties did not get wet. I carefully probed
my bladder, and everything seemed OK. Quickly I put my bike against the
house and searched for my house keys. Still no problem. I put the key
into the lock, and turned it while pulling at the door knob to facilitate
the lock's movement. This was the moment I had started to wet myself last
time. But now, still nothing. The door opened, and I pulled out the key
when I went inside. The hallway was deserted and the door of the toilet was
open. Slowly I let go of the front door, that would be closed automatically
by a spring. The tingling at my back now had spread throughout my whole
body, and it was especially noticeable in my belly. Or no, somewhat lower.
My cheeks glowed like in mid-winter, and I hesitated slightly while walking
towards the inviting toilet door. With the door in my hand, I switched on
the light and entered the stall. Puzzled I stood there for a moment, with
my skirt already hiked up a bit. Everything had gone like I wanted it to,
yet something in the back of my head was calling for attention. I hiked up
my skirt further and started to pull down my panties.

Suddenly I knew what was bothering me: I had forgotten to put the lock on
my bike, which was only three meters away from the open road and quite
expensive. Much in doubt, I had to decide to go to the toilet first or lock
my bike. And the tingling in my body wasn't helping matters. It was
exciting and pleasant, and reminded me of semi-erotic experiences with
boys. Strange, since I had not met any interesting boy this evening; even
the two boys we had high hopes for turned out to be dull soccer
enthusiasts. Bike or toilet?

I don't know what made me choose for bike, because it was a stupid thing
since I knew very well that my sphincter could give up any moment, and
probably without much warning. After looking in the mirror and stroking my
hair back, I glanced over my clothes and enjoyed the smooth feeling of my
skirt as I left the toilet and walked down the hallway again. There really
was nothing to worry about, I reminded myself. My bike would still be
there, and I could easily hold my pee for another thirty seconds. I opened
the door, went to my bike, stooped down a bit to set the lock, and waited.

I waited. For a few seconds, I just stood there on the concrete front
place, with the lock completely in order and locked, and I waited. There
was nothing special about it, I just waited for something to happen.
Something *had* to happen. I just felt it in all my limbs, and the tingling
was not lying either. I *wanted* something to happen. With a smile, I
straightened my back and turned around towards the street. Nobody was in
sight, every curtain was closed. Happily I looked up to the sky, where some
stars already had appeared. It was a beautiful night, warm but not too hot,
with a nice breeze to freshen up everything. No clouds. A small light dot
moved through the sky. And I waited, still not knowing exactly for what.

After what probably was about half a minute of relaxed anticipation, I
gradually became aware of some pressure in my belly. Slowly I started to
realize what kept me from going inside and visiting the toilet. It
immediately led to a big blush on my cheeks, and I felt the tingling creep
upwards over my spine. Should I? After all the precautions I had taken, it
seemed so awfully silly to screw it up by stupidly standing here. Still, I
wouldn't move. I just did not want to. I had visions of what happened last
time, with the wonderful feeling of warm liquid running through my pants,
and realized that I actually could enjoy it again. By doing nothing. I only
had to wait, and everything would come by itself. I had prepared myself for
it, dressed up for it, postponed it, waited for it... everything was in
place. Nobody would notice. And then I realised with a shock that my mother
probably even *expected* to find some wet clothes in the laundry basket
tomorrow. I was *expected* to wet myself. My heart skipped a beat as wild
fantasies crossed my mind.

So that was it. Now I knew what I wanted to do. And I decided that that was
exactly what would happen. Now.

I checked my long skirt and pulled it up at the belt, so I could feel the
smooth fabric touching my legs from my upper thighs almost down to my
ankles. I took a deep breath, and prepared myself for the inevitable. The
tingling feeling came down again, went right through my back towards my
belly, and then sank into my crotch. I sighed and imagined my pink panties
deep under my skirt. I really wanted to do it now. I really wanted it. I
even started helping it. Unbelievably, I was actively trying to wet my
panties and enjoyed it! Being almost there, I opened up my purse that still
hung around my right shoulder and started looking for something irrelevant.
Almost there. Quick glance to the left and right. Nobody. Very close.
Almost there. In a sudden wave of naughty pleasure, I felt my body
anticipating the event by moving my legs a bit apart. I did not do it
myself, it must have been some deeply-rooted instinct. I looked down to my
boots, which were parted for about twenty centimeters now, and with a smile
I put them further apart. Twenty-five centimeters. I rummaged in my purse,
and found a little mirror. Still not enough. Thirty centimeters! A nail
clipper. Never before I had been so close to wet panties. I really wanted
to wee through them, to get myself a wet crotch, to play that I got caught
again and could not help it. I had just stepped off my bike and was just
looking in my purse for my keys. By coincidence, I had my legs forty
centimeters apart now. My skirt gracefully flowed down my legs, and I
felt very excited, very attractive, and very determined.

Finally, all my urges became too strong to resist them. I jumped up slightly,
and when my boots touched the ground again they were sixty centimeters
apart. My instinct told me that that was sufficient, and I hurried to put
the things back in my purse. While I closed the purse's flap, I put my left
hand in my left side and let my right elbow rest on my purse. My smooth,
long skirt moved slightly in the breeze. Almost there. Almost. Casually I
looked down the street, and tightly grasped my purse. Almost.

There.

While my legs started to tremble a bit, I had the familiar experience of my
belly melting, and this time I knew exactly what was going on under my
skirt. Calmly and steadily, I let my warm liquid enter my pink panties and
just enjoyed it. They spread the warmth around my crotch, and I noticed the
moment floating by that I could not possibly deny to myself what was
happening anymore. I was weeing through my pants, and I was not holding
back. Actually, I started pushing. While my pink panties still managed to
absorb the pee, I took a deep breath and wetted myself thoroughly. I could
hear the soft hissing sound under my long blue skirt, and hummed from
delight. Soon a tiny stream dropped down onto the concrete pavement, and I
could not help but look down to my skirt. It moved a bit in the wind,
covering up every sign of what was happening. While I got more and more
excited, my pee now really started to gush out and a complete waterfall
clattered down between my boots. I vaguely thought about the noise alarming
somebody, but then drifted away again on the breeze, floating on my self-
made ocean, with a wonderful, cosy secret lovingly covered up by the big
sail. This was the first time I actually enjoyed wetting myself. I had
chosen to do it, and it had not dissapointed me. It was heaven.

After what seemed really a long time, I finally finished, and took a moment
to assess the situation. I was standing on our front place, dressed for a
party, with my legs spread out and just having peed my panties like a
child. It was absolutely the most relaxing and exciting thing that until
then had happened to me, and I really wished there was more to add to the
moist in my panties. I stooped forward a bit, and with a last tension of my
muscles I managed to get a last wave of pee into my panties. Then I stepped
backward, pulling my boots together and deeply enjoying the tiny streams of
liquid that spiraled down my legs. The puddle on the ground was
considerably larger than when I had peed my jeans. No wonder; my tiny
panties really were not comparable to the massive amount of fabric that got
soaked last time. I sighed and went inside. Feeling horny, I switched off
the toilet's light (no need for that today anymore!) and went up the
stairs. Everybody was asleep already.

In the bathroom, I looked at myself in the full-length mirror and turned
left and right. Nothing showed, really, except for a few drops on my boots.
Reluctantly I removed my skirt, to reveal that my panties were deep pink
from between my legs until halfway up my waist, both in the front and back.
I couldn't help to look at myself in the mirror again. Wet panties were not
only good to wear for the feeling they gave you, but they looked
incredibly sexy, I found. Quickly I slipped out of my blouse and boots, and
took off everything except my panties. Knowing that my parents *knew* that
I had wet myself, I did not bother to lock the door of the bathroom, and
with the obviously pissed panties still on I opened the hot tap and let the
water reach the correct temperature. While the shower still ran, I left the
bathroom and went into my bedroom to get my night gown. I hoped that my
mother would appear and see me, but she stayed in bed. Back in the
bathroom I took the shower head and directed it away from me, stepped into
the shower, and spread my legs again. This time, I would see it myself.

My panties became a bit darker between my legs, and soon a small stream ran
down. Of course I had very little pee left, and I was dissapointed when it
died out quickly. Slowly, I let the shower head coming up between my legs,
and directed it to my crotch. The warm water soaked into the fabric and
excited my sensitive parts in a great way. I let the water reach every part
of my panties that were wet already, but not more. Not that very much of
them remained dry, but still enough. After having rinsed myself clean
enough this way, I washed my legs and feet, and stopped the tap. I dried my
legs with a towel, and put on my night gown over my soaking wet panties. In
the mirror, nothing could be seen... yet. With the exciting garment around
my bum, I brushed my teeth and enjoyed the irregular drops between my bare
feet. Finally, I went to my bedroom and closed the door. My bed waited. I
pushed the blankets to one side, let myself down on my back, and while
carefully pulling my night gown down over my wet panties, I replaced the
blankets.

I felt my night gown absorbing the wetness of my panties, and pressed it in
my crotch with both hands. Anyone seeing me now would know that I had wet
my bed. This thought excited me in such a way that I spread my legs a bit,
pulled up my knees, and started to finger myself through my wet gown and
panties. I came fast and hard, quickly dozed away, and slept very well
that night, having wonderful dreams.

Next morning, I woke up early and found out that I was dry again. It was
seven o'clock, and I had the time to relax a bit before coming out of bed.
Of course, my first thing to do was to check for the need to pee. And of
course I had to. Blushing, I rolled onto my back, spread my legs and pulled
up my knees, and waited. I could wet my bed and nobody would ask questions.
Would I? A bit worried I thought about my mother who would have to clean up
the mess. My clothes and the sheets where not the problem, but the mattress
was unprotected and would get very wet. I remained in wetting position for
a few minutes, came quite close to do it, but eventually backed out for
respect of my mother. But then, something else was possible. Quickly I got
out of bed, hurried to the bathroom and sat down onto the toilet. I pulled
my night gown out of the way, spread my knees, and eagerly looked down to
the pink triangle between my legs. Starting was much easier now, and soon a
dark spot appeared. It grew quickly, and before I realized it, I was weeing
through my panties at full power. While holding up my gown with one hand, I
used the other to massage my clit through the wet fabric, and while still
wetting my panties, I had the most intense orgasm ever.

Later, I showered (panties still on) and dressed in my skirt again. Having
a standing lunch, I prepared for the day, and I have been very happy since,
knowing that a slight medical problem could lead to great pleasure.