Willow Wets

 

Willow had long been a fan of wetting herself -- in fact, she couldn't even remember how it had started. When she lived with her parents, and then in a college dorm, the opportunities for enjoying that activity had been few and far between, but now that she had her own apartment, she could partake in that particular pleasure as often as she wanted. And she almost always wanted to.

It was a lazy Sunday, which Willow thought were the best days for having "accidents." The night before, she hadn't gone to the toilet before bed, and woke up fairly desperate that morning. (Willow frequently went to sleep with a rather full bladder, but it was less common for her to wake up still desperate, as she often woke up to wet sheets instead.) She lazed around in bed for a while, and contemplated relieving herself right there, but instead got up and went though her usual morning routine, which of course did not involve using the toilet -- in fact, her toilet was rarely used at all. By the time she was making her usual breakfast of toast with jam and a large mug of tea, she was fidgeting quite a lot, and had even resorted to even grabbing her crotch a bit to postpone the inevitable. She made it though breakfast without leaking, but an hour later she had progressed from fidgeting to squirming to flat-out bouncing, was holding herself constantly, and even moaning occasionally. Still, she held on. She loved it when she made a choice to wet herself, and the feeling of deliberately releasing her bladder and letting her pee escape into her clothing, but there was something even better about having a real accident -- at least, as real as an accident could be when she had done nothing to prevent it.

Despite her determination, it was only a few more minutes before the pressure became too much. She spurted, and felt the panties against her crotch grow hot and wet. She gripped herself even harder, but less than a minute later another, longer stream escaped, and she could feel her jeans growing damp under her hands. Willow crossed her legs even tighter and clenched her muscles, but only managed to halt the leaking for a few seconds before her bladder gave up entirely, and urine came flooding out. Her already wet crotch became soaked, and almost immediately after that pee began rushing down the insides of her legs, leaving dark, glistening streaks that widened as her bladder continued emptying. She could feel the wetness seeping up and around her butt, and spreading around her legs. Her formerly white socks turned yellow, and an impressively large puddle formed on the floor. Finally, she finished relieving herself, although excess pee still dripped from her pants to the floor. She looked at the mess she had made, and took a strange sort of pride in how much of her jeans were dark with liquid, and the size of her puddle. Although Willow kept these kinds of activities private, she did enjoy how visible wetting her pants was -- it would have been immediately obvious to anyone who saw her that she had peed, not into a toilet, but directly into her pants! With this thought, she began to rub her crotch and inner thighs through her still-dripping pants, moaning softly with pleasure as she did so.

Only when her pee grew cold and sticky did she stop and clean up. She spent the next several hours being satisfyingly unproductive and waiting for her bladder to refill. However, when she started squirming again, it wasn't because of her bladder. This time, it was her bowels that were becoming more and more insistent on voiding their contents. In order to increase how desperate she felt, Willow walked around her house.

After a few minutes, she felt her load turtling, but she managed to avoid messing her pants for the moment. Once she had regained a reasonable amount of control, she pulled down her pants and underwear, and was satisfied to see skid marks on the otherwise white panty lining. She pulled her pants back up and continued to walk around, occasionally stretching and even squatting. The moments when she almost lost control came closer and closer together, and increased in severity. After a particularly intense cramp, Willow knew she would have no choice but to fill her panties soon. She made her way outside to her backyard, which was surrounded by tall, thick hedges. Once outside, she decided to examine the inside of her panties again, and was rewarded by the sight of numerous new brown streaks.

With her pants still down, however, another wave of desperation hit, and Willow knew that her bowels were seconds away from emptying, whether she wanted them to or not. She only just managed to get her panties back up around her hips (her pants were left dropped around her knees) before she felt her load turtling again. This time, however, she was unable to avoid soiling herself. Her poop started to come out, and tented the seat of her panties before smushing a bit. Willow then gave up on trying to maintain any semblance of continence, and relaxed. Immediately and without any effort, a second, longer log slid out. She could feel the warm mass of poop pressing against her butt, and her panties were now distinctly heavy and sagging. She lightly ran her hand over the back of her panties, and discovered that the bulge was already quite obvious. However, Willow wasn't done yet. She squatted slightly and pushed, so the last of her load was also deposited into her underwear. She also felt a familiar hot wetness running down her legs for the second time that day, and realized that in voiding her bowels, she had also, quite unintentionally and without even realizing she was doing so, voided her mostly-refilled bladder.

Although she had completely relieved herself, Willow continued to stand in her yard for a few moments, taking a strange sort of pride in the mess she had created. She then pulled her pee-streaked pants back up -- further squashing her sizable load as she did so -- and walked inside, causing her poop to shift further into the base of her panties, and her gait became a sort of waddle. She made her way to the bathroom, where she positioned herself in front of the full-length mirror. Although the wet patches were a dead giveaway that she had peed herself, there was minimal visual evidence that she had also soiled herself, since her pants were loose enough that most of the bulge was hidden (she could just barely see it, but she knew what to look for), and a brown color hadn't yet seeped though to the outside of her pants. She then dropped her pants again, and examined how the back of her panties looked.

Now, it was clear that she'd had two "accidents." Her panties were made of thick white cotton, and not only was the front of her crotch wet, but also decidedly yellow. She twisted a bit so she could see her rear in the mirror, and observed that her load was causing her panties to sag quite a lot between her legs -- she even bounced on the balls of her feet a few times so she could feel the weight jiggle. Furthermore, the seat of her panties already had a noticeable brown stain on them. She grinned, appreciating the irony of standing with pee-soaked, poop-filled panties only a few feet away from a toilet. Willow wasn't quite done enjoying her "accident," so she pulled her pants back up again and wandered around her house for a while, before finally cleaning up, showering, and changing.

Pissing herself at the Dentist

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Female Desperation And Wetting Story December 16, 2007

 

 

 

 

 

Female Desperation And Wetting Story

December 16, 2007

Another Story I Have Come Across Enjoy The Female Desperation And Wetting

It happened while I was walking through the city center with a girlfriend during a nice, but not too hot summer day in August. We had been visiting some friends and decided to walk back to her place where I had left my car (we had gone to our friends by bus, since parking is just next to impossible in the city center). On the way home, we had got something to drink at a nice terrace at the market square (too expensive for the service, of course) and now we crossed a beautiful park area, with the usual lawns, pools, ducks and children running around. It was then that she turned to me and said: “Shit, I should have gone to the bathroom at that place on the market”. Of course I casually remarked: “Well, this place isn’t exactly fitted for a pee, is it?” while looking around and seeing everybody running around with no sheltered spot anywhere near. She nodded and added: “Still, I’ve to go *bad*. Where is the nearest pub?” Unfortunately for her, the closest place where we could possibly find a public bathroom was the market place, fifteen minutes behind us. Stupid cities with all action concentrated in one place and the rest being only offices and houses. And parks of course.

We decided to go on and try to reach her house, which was still ten minutes or so to go. After one more minute of walking, she suddenly went off the path and crossed the lawn towards a few bushes. “Sorry, I’ll try it here. I *really* need to pee”, she said. Looking for a spot where she could successfully squat down without being noticed, she almost ran around the bushes only to find a children’s playground at the other side. Rather angry she came back to me. “Grrr who has designed this park. They should force him to wet his pants,” she mumbled, and I could notice that she crossed her thighs under her wide skirt.

I wanted to try something. “Well, maybe this park was designed by a woman, you know. Back in the fifties or so, when almost every woman still wore skirts. Like you do now.” She lifted her eyebrows and looked at me. “What’s that to do with the absence of public toilets where they should be?”, she asked. Then the suddenly understood and frowned. “Oh yeah, well, you mean…”. I shrugged. “Yes. Nobody will notice. I will, but I don’t mind at all. Just go ahead, there’s nobody close and no one approaching right now.”

She sighed and looked down to her white summer skirt that reached down to just below her knees. She couldn’t help still crossing her thighs and now even pressing her hands in her crotch. “I don’t have much choice, do I? Jesus, if I don’t do it myself, I will be wet within a minute anyway. Shit. What a stupid move of me.” That said, she left the path and walked onto the grass. She looked aside, to me again, and slightly pulled up her skirt. “Do you think I can squat without people noticing?” Before I could answer, a bunch of yelling children came in from the opposite corner of the park and my friend shook her head herself. “Nope. Forget about that. Damned, I’ll look like a three-year-old girl.”

Then she stepped out of her slippers, walked for a meter on bare feet through the grass, stopped, and parted her legs a little. Her wide skirt effectively hid this pose and from a distance of more than ten meters nobody would see anything strange. To cover her up even more, I decided to go down on one knee and started to re-tie my shoelace. It appeared that she now was waiting for me to finish with my unwilling shoe lace. “Go ahead”, I said. “Just enjoy it.” She looked at me with a mix of embarassment and a smile. “Please, don’t tell anybody, okay?” I nodded. She cleared her throat. “Alright then. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Her hands grabbed her skirt, shook it loosely over her legs, and I noticed that she casually reached through her skirt to the waistband of her panties to pull them up firmly. Looking around to the people, she pulled the skirt away from the front of her panties, let it carefully fall down again, reached behind her to check that her skirt was not hanging between her legs, and then spread her legs a little more. “Okay. There we go, for god’s sake.”

She looked to her crotch and breathed deeply. Then she slowly released her muscles. I saw her pull her belly a bit inward and bite her lip when her pee flowed into her panties. She let her breath escape through her teeth and obviously felt foolish. But the relief was so big that it took over within seconds. Together with a quite satisfied expression on her face, the pee started to drip down between her legs. It became a stream, and then an even bigger stream. When she was in full swing, she giggled and looked foolishly at me. “Now, how do I look like? Wrong! Eighteen years older!” Still peeing, she casually looked around and saw nobody nearer than fifty meters. Casually she put a hand in her skirt’s left pocket. “Well, after all, this isn’t so bad. It is only my panties. And it is a warm day, anyway.” She looked to the sky. “Besides, it is not an unpleasant feeling.” Rapidly correcting herself, se added: “That is, now my panties are wet, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” I rose to my two feet again and told her I thought it indeed didn’t matter at all. I also told her that I really liked seeing her standing with her legs a bit apart, wearing a skirt, and thoroughly wetting her panties. She looked away and blushed. “Really? Well, at least that will keep you from making fun out of me.”

Then the stream died away and she quickly bend her knees, crossed her thighs and in this half-squatting position she squeezed her panties as well as she could. A last gush of pee trickled onto the ground. She straightened her back again, turned around, picked up her slippers and continued her walk on the path with me. On the way back, we didn’t talk anymore about what happened, and she only three times grabbed her skirt to make sure it didn’t touch her panties.

Within ten minutes we reached her home. While I sat down and picked up a hifi magazine, she went upstairs and I expected to hear her rumbling about in the bathroom. To my amazement I heard her coming back down within half a minute. When I looked up from the magazine, she stood right in front of me, legs slightly apart, wearing a very short white sports skirt instead of her long one. She said nothing, just looked at me. I stared to her in disbelief. We were friends, but had no relation. I had seen her in short skirts before, but never so clearly challenging. “Still wearing the same panties?”, I asked, knowing that she just had not had the time to change them and dry herself. In answer she came closer and just said: “Look for yourself.” Putting down my magazine, I reached for the hem of her skirt and slowly I lifted it with both hands. It reveiled light-blue plain panties, just below her waist, sporting a dark stain centered in her crotch and spreading around for about fifteen centimeters, While she still stood there, I got out of the chair and lifted up her skirt from behind. Same story. I just said “Wow!”.

Then she turned around and told me to follow while she entered the garden. Arrived there, she squatted down and clearly made preparations to pee her panties again. Now I couldn’t hold myself any longer. “Please, stop it for a moment. Can I join you?” Playing she was shocked, she looked up to me. “Just join me? Right as you stand there? C’me on, you won’t get away with a soaked pair of jeans.” But she rose to her feet and directed me into the house again. “Wait here. I’ll get you what you need.” Hurrying up the stairs, she clearly showed her wet panties under her skirt. Almost as if I knew what was coming, I started to take off my shoes, socks, and jeans. Just as I put them on a chair, now only being dressed in a shirt and my underwear, reveiling an undeniable bulge in my pants, she dashed down again and gigglingly handed me one of her tiny skirts. It was a very simple model, just a band of fabric of about thirty centimeters with an elastic waistband. I slipped it on. The skirt covered my underwear enough to be useful, and since it was all but tight, my bulge dissapeared completely. My girlfriend circled me and giggled again. “It does not fit you. You have no hips, and those furry legs really seem silly. Still, it will do.” She entered the garden again and I followed her like in a dream.

Arrived where she wanted to be, she turned and took my hands in hers. Standing about a meter from eachother, we spread our legs, wider this time, and waited. I felt a great urge to pee, but wanted to see her reaction. After ten seconds, she said: “Well, now you know how it feels, standing in the open and knowing that someone watches you while you are going to pee your panties.” I smiled. “Are you ready? I am.” She nodded. “Yes, I am.” She winked with her left eye. “Now?” As an answer I looked down towards my skirt, held my breath, and carefully let go some pee. I felt my underwear eagerly absorb it as it touched the fabric. I peed some more. Then I looked my friend straight into her eyes and told her I’d wet myself. Quickly she lifted my skirt with her right hand and checked. When she saw the stained front of my pants, she smiled and let the skirt fall down again. Then she put both her arms in her sides and threw her long hair over her shoulder with a rapid head movement. She looked down to her own skirt and I heard a soft, hissing sound. While she carefully peed her panties again, I lifted her skirt for the second time and watched the pee as it surged through the fabric, making the blue panties seem like interwoven with silver threads in the bright sunlight. The stream soon soaked the panties again, and finding no way out, gradually trickled down onto the ground.

With a groan, I let myself go, and soon my whole crotch felt warm and moist, while a steady stream flowed from under my skirt between my legs onto the grass. Now my girlfriend suddenly reached under my arms forward to my skirt, lifted it above my waist, and thereby pushing my arms higher, so that I lifted her skirt altogether as well. For one second, she gazed at my underwear, showing a completely stained front and a big bulge with pee flowing around it. Then, she came closer, and pushed her crotch against mine. Her hands let go of my skirt and grabbed my ass, pulling my wet underwear tightly against her wet panties. I still peed, and she must have felt that. She peed as well, and I sure as hell felt that. While still peeing, she started to move rhythmically with her hips, and I could nothing but follow her lambada. We stood there for thirty seconds, peeing our panties and firmly pushing our crotches together. We didn’t kiss. Then I felt another function taking over in my abdomen. I started to push back harder, and she immediately reacted. It took us five more seconds to reach the point of no return. She closed her eyes and groaned. I slipped my hands under her skirt and firmly squeezed her wet buttocks. Then I came. My friend let out a high-pitched squeek and shuddered over all her body. She
took fifteen seconds to complete the orgasm.

We held each other for quite a time. Then, we stepped back a little, so that our skirts fell down properly. We both did not feel at all like taking them off or changing our underwear. Instead, she entered the house to make some tea and I sat down on a garden chair, careful to pull up my skirt first. Amazingly, the front of my skirt still was still completely unstained. We sat there, drinking tea and casually letting something find its way out, for the rest of the day, until sunset forced us inside to prevent our bladders from catching cold. Because, as she said, it was nice to wet yourself when you could get away with it so easily, but sadly that was not always the case. I could nothing but agree.

Solo Panty Pissing Story

 

 

 

 

 

Its been a while since we had a pissing story and when came across this solo panty peeing story, I thought some may enjoy

I woke up in my bed in the middle of the night, next to my fiancée, her light breathing demonstrating to me that yes, she was asleep. I looked around for the clock, but the bright light always kept us awake, so it was covered with my shirt and too far across the room to read without getting up. I fished under papers on my messy nightstand for my phone and was blinded by the light as I read it: 3:27 in the morning. I recalled the events of last night; we hadn’t partied, but I’d had both alcohol and weed, so obviously I had been parched and downed quite a bit of water. I felt a twinge in my bladder (and in my clit) as I recalled it; in fact, I was parched again. I slowly extracted myself from the covers without waking her. It felt like I was getting out of bed agonizingly slowly, and my need for the bathroom increased as my body became vertical and gravity aided its pressure on my urethra. Putting my phone back on my nightstand, I quickly fumbled on my bathrobe. I stumbled toward the bedroom door with eyes not yet readjusted to the dark. The bathroom was all of the way down the hallway. Arms out in front of me like a zombie, I blinked blindly as I slowly tried to find the door.

Shooting pain suddenly attacked my foot as it found a heavy textbook I had left on the floor the night prior; in my shock, I felt a drop of my pee slide through and out of my urethra, wetting my labia and making a very small damp spot on my grey panties. I immediately clenched up, and no more left me, but in that moment I felt the intense urge to just let go. I wanted so badly to just relax and feel my pee flowing down, coating my pussy and soaking through my underwear. We were on wood floors; the hot piss would make its way down the inside of both legs as I moaned in relief and pleasure, pooling quickly on the floor. I had a large bladder, and the urine would likely stain the book on the floor and possibly ruin the floorboards. I didn’t want to risk it, and held my urges in with clenched teeth and will power.

My desperation suddenly much stronger, I hurriedly made my way through the door, better watching where I was going; my eyes began to adjust to the light. I was almost to the bathroom when I wondered if I was going to make it. The drop of pee that I had released was just the first, and I felt as if some kind of seal had been broken. Before, I only had to pee a little. Now, after standing up and allowing gravity to force urine downwards inside of me, as well as the fact that I had startled myself and relaxed my urethral sphincter slightly (and was apparently unable to completely retighten it,) I was practically dancing my way to the bathroom. I put one hand on my crotch as I felt another drop make its way into my panties. “Oh well,” I muttered to myself. “It’s not as if a few drop of urine are going to stain anything.” My body made me regret my words as a short squirt of piss shot fiercely past my clitoris and into my panties, dripping onto my hand. I clapped my hand tightly against my pussy, willing myself to not do it again. With the hand that was not desperately clasping my vulva, I reached for the door and pushed it open, then frantically sliding along the wall and turning on the light. The brightness shot into my wide open and relaxed eyes and I flinched, raising the hand on my pussy to my eyes to protect them from the light. And with that, I began to leak.

A few drops trickled out at first; my eyes squeezed tightly shut (still hurting,) I fought to reach back and shut the door behind me, and barely succeeded; a few more, larger drops of urine soaked into my underwear and began to run down my leg, followed by more of the same volume. I was squeezing my kegel muscles as tightly as I possibly could, but the piss kept coming. I hastily managed to somehow make it all of the way across the room to the toilet before it started to squirt out. A fair sized squirt began to flow out of my glistening labia and I yanked up the lid and planted my butt perfectly on the toilet seat. There was one small issue. In my haste, I had forgotten to pull down my underwear. I felt warmth spreading across my crotch that would not normally be there when I was pissing into a toilet; the pee inside of me was now forcefully flooding out of my urethra, plashing and spraying through my now-soaked panties, all over my legs, and noisily dripping into the toilet bowl below me. I could feel my piss saturating my underwear entirely; the hot wetness spread across my butt cheeks through the fabric and I felt absolutely, disgustingly, embarrassingly soaked. I was actively pissing myself… and it felt ridiculously good. As the pee flooded quickly through my poor, relaxed little piss-hole and out into the world, it splashed against my clitoris and along my labia, some of it literally dripping into my vagina. The slightly open hole accepted my piss and soon, it was full and the drops were bubbling out. I could also feel drops trapped between my leg and the toilet seat on the side closer to the door; since I had already started peeing before I began to sit down, drops of my urine had landed on the toilet seat and would stay there, forgotten, long after I got up.

My piss trickled into a smaller stream into my underwear now; I put my hand back down and pulled them aside to reveal my sex. With the movement, my pee that had not already fallen from the panties flooded out at once into the toilet bowl, making a louder splash. My pussy lips still emitted a slowly dwindling stream of the faintly yellow liquid. I watched it coming from inside of me as I held my soaked panties to one side. I was wet, and not just with piss. Something about the taboo of pissing myself, of maybe the humiliation, or even just the feel as the liquid forcefully sprayed against the underside of my clit, made me extremely excited. I felt excitement running from my clit to my stomach as the last few drops of pee left my body, dripping rhythmically into the water below.

Astonished by how good it had felt to piss myself like a child, I sat for a moment with my mouth open. Then, even more embarrassingly, I gave into my next urge and my fingers shot to my still-dripping pussy lips and began to massage it. I then took the side of my hand, pressed against my pussy through my panties, and clenched my thighs tightly around it. My body was electric; I grinded against my hand and my sopping-wet underwear that were still soaking up a few more drips. The motion against my hand was intense, and I was horny. I was cumming in seconds, and with it I felt one last, strong but small, vividly pleasurable squirt of piss shooting out of me and covering my hand in more of my own liquids. It might not have been piss; maybe it was female ejaculate- my cum. Maybe it was both. It was most likely both, considering I had just been dribbling the contents of my bladder hurriedly into my own clothing. My orgasm, either way, was centered not on my clit but on my pee-hole, just below my clit. It throbbed as I threw my head forward and bit back a screech of pleasure. As the waves of my orgasm began to subside, my mind cleared and I looked around. I stood up and pulled off my panties and threw them across the room into the shower, where they landed with a wet, resounding “flop!” Drying myself with toilet paper and forgetting my pissy panties where they were, I turned off the light and proceeded to feel my way back to the bedroom, utterly relieved and entirely exhausted. I lazily climbed back in bed, my heavy body falling into place. My head hit the pillow, and I was instantly asleep.

My movements woke up my fiancée; she realized that she, too needed to pee, but much less desperately. She made her way into the bathroom and was faced with my sloppy, naughty, accident

I was sitting out at a park, taking in the fine greenery around me on my walk when a Particularly Attractive Woman strode by me, winking and smiling to me as she did. I watched her pass, my gaze obviously stuck to her as she hips swayed and her hair was swayed by a gentle breeze. She gives me one last glance back before disappearing around a corner. I smile and log it into my memory for later, then continue on my walk. I only get a few paces before I start to feel something. Not sure what, but something feels off. I doesn't feel like arousal itself, though I can feel that welling up from my loins as well. I glance around for a bench and don't see any, so I quicken my step. That woman was really sticking in my mind and I was going to need to sit for a bit to calm back down, I could already feel my penis becoming erect in my shorts. At least I thought I did, I felt the familiar feeling of the fabric of my boxers against the head as it slowly slid down ward, and of the arousing swell of it increasing in girth as it grew. As I walked on, becoming more aware of my own size by the second, I realized I wasn't erect, or getting erect. I stopped and looked down to see a more prominent bulge in my shorts, but no sign at all of any hardness. I reach a hand down and touch it, then cup it. It's me, and I could now feel it press against my hand as my dick continued to grow. I resumed walking and now could feel that my balls, too, were growing. I could feel them rub against my thighs and how my cock was now resting against them as it swung freely in my shorts. With every step I could feel my shorts becoming tighter, my cockhead reaching lower, and my balls growing rounder. I felt anxiety well up alongside my increasing arousal. Where was I going? Could I get to my car? What then? My mind raced with thoughts of what to do as I became increasingly aware of how award it is to walk with such large, and still growing, genitals. After a few more minutes of awkward walking, I finally decided that I would just wait until dark and return to my car then, which, hopefully I would be able to drive or at least fit inside my car at that point, given how quickly my junk was growing. Then, I stopped. I felt something I didn't know would feel so... good. The tip of my cock slowly inched out of the bottom of my shorts, rubbing my knee, as thick as a can of pringles, and still completely soft. I gasped lightly as I then felt it finally start to get hard. It pulsed, the entire length slowly lifting and pulling against the leg of my shorts. I hesitantly grabbed the cloth and pulled it up, the light touch of it making me moan as my dick slowly pulsed harder and harder, slowly pushing the head away as the shaft swelled. I winced as my balls were constrained by my shorts and boxers, the thread and fabric strong enough to try and hold them in. Without thinking I stripped off my shorts and boxers, not caring now as there was no way to hide what I had anyway. I return my attention to my cock and see that I can't even reach the tip as the shaft juts out proudly from me, still slowly growing bigger, longer, and girthier with every passing moment. I widen my stance as my balls grow heavy and press against my legs and moan again, the feeling of being so large and having it out where the breeze can caress it enough to make me gush precum. It splatters onto the ground in front of me as I helplessly watch my body continue to change. "Are you alright? I heard so noise coming from-" I hear a voice approach from behind me, I turn without thinking to face them, my cock swinging around in the air, lagging behind with it's immense girth, and they stop when their eyes lock onto it. I feel ashamed, aroused, and lustful all at the same time. This curvy ginger now standing gawking at my growing dick and balls doesn't seem to know what to think either. I can know she is also aroused, as her crotch quickly dampens and she steadies herself on a tree. "Something's happening to me, I don't know why, but uh..." I awkwardly reply, not sure if I should approach her. She takes a step towards me, I smile excitedly and my dick surges in size, my legs starting to wobble from the new weight they're having to support. "You should sit down, uh, here! Sit on this!" she quickly pulls her shirt off, laying it on the ground and helping me sit down. She holds my cock to do this as if it would help, but I don't complain. I can't as her touch sets me on fire and all I can do is moan in response as precum runs down the shaft by the gallon. She licks it from her hands before taking from the source, my cock now huge enough to rival my torso in girth and her height in length. I can barely think as she makes out with my slit, her tongue having more than enough room to slide in and play around. I'm unable to say anything before I feel every muscle in my body tense all at once as my balls unleash their fullness upon her face, dosing her with rope after thick rope of my hot, sticky, gooey, potent, and according to her, delicious cum. She moans in her own pleasure after tasting it, striping off he clothes as she tries to hold me to her mouth, the head of my cock rivaling her own. I pry my eyes open to see her gulping it down, amid the buckets of the spunk cascading down her breasts and tummy onto the ground in bucket load. I also see what it's doing to her, how she's starting to fatten between swallows of it. Her breasts soon rival my balls in size as they leak milk, and her hips wide enough to surpass her shoulders as her belly pushes her boobs aside. I gasp as I want to drench every inch of her in my cum. I cum for what feels like an hours, but may well have only been ten minutes. By the end, my balls cover my lap as giant orbs that would each fill a seat on their own, my shaft rivals the old trees around me and my tip is well above her, letting my cum shower down onto her as she is now probably three times the weight she was. Her tits hand down, round and full, to her hips, which are only somewhat wider than her boobs. Her belly is about the same size, a third dome on her front that rests in front of her thighs, the size of which are not easy to describe and get across just how much they've grown. She wobbles and waddles around to me, completely white, head to toe. "That was fun! Should I get my friends for Round 2?" she asks, lust and excitement oozing off her words. All I can do in response is start cumming again.

 

 

 

 

Willow had long been a fan of wetting herself -- in fact, she couldn't even remember how it had started. When she lived with her parents, and then in a college dorm, the opportunities for enjoying that activity had been few and far between, but now that she had her own apartment, she could partake in that particular pleasure as often as she wanted. And she almost always wanted to.

It was a lazy Sunday, which Willow thought were the best days for having "accidents." The night before, she hadn't gone to the toilet before bed, and woke up fairly desperate that morning. (Willow frequently went to sleep with a rather full bladder, but it was less common for her to wake up still desperate, as she often woke up to wet sheets instead.) She lazed around in bed for a while, and contemplated relieving herself right there, but instead got up and went though her usual morning routine, which of course did not involve using the toilet -- in fact, her toilet was rarely used at all. By the time she was making her usual breakfast of toast with jam and a large mug of tea, she was fidgeting quite a lot, and had even resorted to even grabbing her crotch a bit to postpone the inevitable. She made it though breakfast without leaking, but an hour later she had progressed from fidgeting to squirming to flat-out bouncing, was holding herself constantly, and even moaning occasionally. Still, she held on. She loved it when she made a choice to wet herself, and the feeling of deliberately releasing her bladder and letting her pee escape into her clothing, but there was something even better about having a real accident -- at least, as real as an accident could be when she had done nothing to prevent it.

Despite her determination, it was only a few more minutes before the pressure became too much. She spurted, and felt the panties against her crotch grow hot and wet. She gripped herself even harder, but less than a minute later another, longer stream escaped, and she could feel her jeans growing damp under her hands. Willow crossed her legs even tighter and clenched her muscles, but only managed to halt the leaking for a few seconds before her bladder gave up entirely, and urine came flooding out. Her already wet crotch became soaked, and almost immediately after that pee began rushing down the insides of her legs, leaving dark, glistening streaks that widened as her bladder continued emptying. She could feel the wetness seeping up and around her butt, and spreading around her legs. Her formerly white socks turned yellow, and an impressively large puddle formed on the floor. Finally, she finished relieving herself, although excess pee still dripped from her pants to the floor. She looked at the mess she had made, and took a strange sort of pride in how much of her jeans were dark with liquid, and the size of her puddle. Although Willow kept these kinds of activities private, she did enjoy how visible wetting her pants was -- it would have been immediately obvious to anyone who saw her that she had peed, not into a toilet, but directly into her pants! With this thought, she began to rub her crotch and inner thighs through her still-dripping pants, moaning softly with pleasure as she did so.

Only when her pee grew cold and sticky did she stop and clean up. She spent the next several hours being satisfyingly unproductive and waiting for her bladder to refill. However, when she started squirming again, it wasn't because of her bladder. This time, it was her bowels that were becoming more and more insistent on voiding their contents. In order to increase how desperate she felt, Willow walked around her house.

After a few minutes, she felt her load turtling, but she managed to avoid messing her pants for the moment. Once she had regained a reasonable amount of control, she pulled down her pants and underwear, and was satisfied to see skid marks on the otherwise white panty lining. She pulled her pants back up and continued to walk around, occasionally stretching and even squatting. The moments when she almost lost control came closer and closer together, and increased in severity. After a particularly intense cramp, Willow knew she would have no choice but to fill her panties soon. She made her way outside to her backyard, which was surrounded by tall, thick hedges. Once outside, she decided to examine the inside of her panties again, and was rewarded by the sight of numerous new brown streaks.

With her pants still down, however, another wave of desperation hit, and Willow knew that her bowels were seconds away from emptying, whether she wanted them to or not. She only just managed to get her panties back up around her hips (her pants were left dropped around her knees) before she felt her load turtling again. This time, however, she was unable to avoid soiling herself. Her poop started to come out, and tented the seat of her panties before smushing a bit. Willow then gave up on trying to maintain any semblance of continence, and relaxed. Immediately and without any effort, a second, longer log slid out. She could feel the warm mass of poop pressing against her butt, and her panties were now distinctly heavy and sagging. She lightly ran her hand over the back of her panties, and discovered that the bulge was already quite obvious. However, Willow wasn't done yet. She squatted slightly and pushed, so the last of her load was also deposited into her underwear. She also felt a familiar hot wetness running down her legs for the second time that day, and realized that in voiding her bowels, she had also, quite unintentionally and without even realizing she was doing so, voided her mostly-refilled bladder.

Although she had completely relieved herself, Willow continued to stand in her yard for a few moments, taking a strange sort of pride in the mess she had created. She then pulled her pee-streaked pants back up -- further squashing her sizable load as she did so -- and walked inside, causing her poop to shift further into the base of her panties, and her gait became a sort of waddle. She made her way to the bathroom, where she positioned herself in front of the full-length mirror. Although the wet patches were a dead giveaway that she had peed herself, there was minimal visual evidence that she had also soiled herself, since her pants were loose enough that most of the bulge was hidden (she could just barely see it, but she knew what to look for), and a brown color hadn't yet seeped though to the outside of her pants. She then dropped her pants again, and examined how the back of her panties looked.

Now, it was clear that she'd had two "accidents." Her panties were made of thick white cotton, and not only was the front of her crotch wet, but also decidedly yellow. She twisted a bit so she could see her rear in the mirror, and observed that her load was causing her panties to sag quite a lot between her legs -- she even bounced on the balls of her feet a few times so she could feel the weight jiggle. Furthermore, the seat of her panties already had a noticeable brown stain on them. She grinned, appreciating the irony of standing with pee-soaked, poop-filled panties only a few feet away from a toilet. Willow wasn't quite done enjoying her "accident," so she pulled her pants back up again and wandered around her house for a while, before finally cleaning up, showering, and changing.

After the pub - story of a wet woman

 Hi, this is my first attempt at fiction in years, so be kind! Let me know if you think it's worth continuing. I hope it's not too long winded!

We had spent much of the afternoon in the pub, Kate and I. Several pints of beer and a couple of shots had done their work. We were both buzzing, but not drunk, and both of us were desperate for the toilet. But neither of us went before leaving the pub. That would have been a waste!

It was only a short walk to Kate�s house, and the route took us along a narrow path and through a small wood. Not many people went that way.

I had met Kate six months earlier, and we had discovered our mutual lust for pee play. Kate loves to hold until she can stand it no longer, and has to piss helplessly in whatever clothes she is wearing. Wetting herself is a wonderful turn on for her and always makes her cum so hard. For my part, I have always loved women peeing, particularly - but not exclusively! - if they haven�t taken their pants, tights or jeans down first. If I�m somewhere underneath when it happens, so much the better! Kate has also shown me some uses for my own pee which I hadn�t thought of till I met her.

Today Kate was dressed in a white hoodie, a denim mini skirt and black tights. She looked completely desirable, and I love it that she wears such ordinary, innocent-looking yet incredibly sexy clothes. No-one would guess the filthy fun she was planning. In the pub I had begged her to tell me what panties she was wearing, and in the end she had whispered �White� and given me a quick flash, parting her legs and flipping her skirt up for a second, letting me see through her tights the swell of her pussy in the white cotton front of her pants. I had been semi-hard from that moment.

We were soon on the path, and out of earshot of the pub garden. Kate said, �My bladder is hurting, it�s so full of piss. I�m going to have to go soon.�

�Why didn�t you go before we left the pub?� I knew the answer perfectly well! �You should have used the pub toilet.�

�Yes I know, but that�s no use now, is it? I think I�m going to piss myself, I need to go so much.�

�Can�t you hold it till we get back to yours?�

�No, I can�t. You don�t understand. I am desperate to go. I�m squeezing it in � oh god, it nearly came out then, I only just managed to hold it. I think I�m going to have to pee my knickers!�

By now we were going through the wood. Halfway along a gate takes you into a field behind the wood and without discussion we went through and were out of sight from the path.

Here Kate, my lovely wetwoman, grabbed me and we kissed passionately, rubbing our hurting crotches against each other. I was now hard � who wouldn�t be with such a sexy companion and her dirty piss-talk? - but my bladder still ached with pee need. Kate whispered, �I�m going to have to piss my pants. Do you know how hot that idea makes me? My pussy is dripping and I haven�t even done it yet. Oh I love wetting myself, it makes me so hot.�

She put a hand under skirt and pressed herself, holding on to her pee and rubbing her horny pussy at the same time. �Oh I�m such a dirty girl, I�m going to piss my panties and I love it! Only a dirty girl would get off on wetting herself, I�m such a slut.�

�Kate� I moaned, �you�re the filthiest little panty-wetting slut I ever heard of. You�re going to piss your panties and it makes you so hot you have to rub your pussy.�

�Oh my god, I am so desperate. I can�t hold it any more. Oh I am just going to have to pee my pants. Oh it�s so hot, pissing my pants. I really want to, it makes me so horny.�

Kate did a little dance as she tried to hold her wee for a bit longer, to make the desperation last. But it was clear she couldn�t hold out for long now. Soon she was going to wet herself whether she liked it or not.

�Kate, let me see you pee your pants, I want to see that so much� I said. I don�t know which of us is more turned on when Kate wets herself. I had a hurting erection from watching Kate�s desperate state, and I badly needed to pee myself. I gripped my cock through my trousers to deal with both problems.

�Oh it�s happening now, my wee is coming�, groaned Kate. �Oh it�s so hot, I�m going to piss my pants�.

�Lift up your skirt, let me see� I begged. She pulled up the front of her denim skirt, showing me the front of her panties through the black tights. �Oh I�m going to piss myself, Look at my little white pants, watch them�, she moaned. �Here it comes, oh I can feel it in my panties, it�s all coming out, so warm. God it�s so horny.�

I concentrated my gaze on her panty-covered crotch. At first, nothing. Then a darker patch appeared just where the pants disappeared between her legs. It spread rapidly up her panty-crotch. For a second, no more. Then the saturated cloth gave way and the lovely stream burst through. Some of the delicious liquid poured out of the middle of her pants, while two streams escaped from either side. None of the streams got far before they met her tights. The middle stream soon soaked through this obstacle as well, A loud pattering began as the pee broke into a spray of drops and hit the grass. The side streams ran all down Kate�s beautiful tight-covered legs, soaking the sheer material and dripping into her boots.

I was transfixed by the wonderful sight, and did not hesitate to tell her how hot it was. For her part she was quite beside herself, pouring out a torrent of words. �Oh I�m pissing myself, I�m going in my panties. Oh so lovely, lovely warm piss in my knickers, oh it�s so hot, piss all down my legs. That makes me so hot, peeing myself, wetting my pants.�

The flow seemed never-ending. So much hot pee Kate had stored up, that she pissed in her panties for over a minute. I had to get my cock out, it hurt so much. �Look what you�re doing to me Kate, pissing your pants like that. You�ve given me such a hard on it hurts. You�re such a lovely, dirty pissing bitch!�

�Oh yes, I�m glad I make you so horny when I pee myself, because it makes me as hot as fuck. A big fat cock is what I need now.� Her flow was finally slowing, the continuous stream dying to a torrent of drips. Her lower body was a mess, the most beautiful mess imaginable. Piss glistened on her legs and continued to drip from her crotch. She dropped her skirt and pushed me in the chest. �Lie down, lover boy. Lie down in my puddle�.

I had no choice but to obey, not that I had the slightest thought of doing anything else. I lay where her golden stream had soaked the ground, her spent piss soaking the back of my shirt. She knelt with her legs either side of my head, leaning forward to grasp my aching cock. Her soaking crotch was over my face, and you can be sure I did not reject this wonderful gift from her. I buried my face in the steamy, dripping warmth between her legs. Having smeared my face with her luscious liquid, I licked at her tights to get as much of the beautiful pee into my mouth as I could. Meanwhile she used her hand and tongue on my rigid cock, making me, if possible, even readier for her.

In between her attention to my erection, she told me how badly she needed a stiff, fat cock in her tight, soaking pussy. �When I�ve peed my panties, I need to come. I need to fuck someone till I come. If you won�t fuck me, I shall have to wank myself off, I shall have to rub my pussy till I come.�

�Don�t worry, there�ll be no problem, you�ve made me so hard.� My voice was a bit muffled as my face was still buried between her beautiful thighs, pushing at the tights material to try to reach the saturated cloth of her panties. So much lovely wee was there that I hadn�t got to yet! �I�m sure I can help you. And don�t forget I haven�t peed yet. My bladder is so full I think I could even piss through the hard on you�ve given me.�

Kate shivered with delight. She knew just what I meant.

To be continued? Or not?

Morning Romp

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Pretext: We're both sitting on the couch watching the news and drinking our coffee. You've been turned on needing me since the night before because both of us were exhausted and couldn't stay awake. I've been turned on since the night before because I'm just always wanting you.

You turn the tv off and turn to me, cuddling against my chest and talking to me about our day. Your hand slides under my shirt as we sit together, our usual watching tv position. My hand is resting on the back of your neck, rubbing comfortingly with my thumb the way you love. We talk about what we need to do, what we want to eat, the usual banter that gets us through our breakfast. Your hand slowly starts to stroke up and down my chest, gently rubbing my nipple when you reach it, settling deeper into my arms. Your warm sweater tickling my skin and your distracted touch start to have an affect on me. You watch me start to harden in my night boxers, aware again of the wetness dampening your panties. Early in our relationship you were embarrassed about how wet you became when turned on. I like to think my absolute obsession with your scent, your taste, and the feeling of your warm wetness gripping me when we made love has made you more comfortable with it.

I feel the material of my boxers scratching gently against my growing hardness. Knowing the effect my touch has on you, I reach my hand down the comically large neck opening of your sweater and stroke your back, letting you feel my forearm slide up and down your back while my stubby calloused fingertips scratch at your side. A satisfied smile crosses my lips as I feel your breath catch and deepen, your legs just barely sliding against each other in time with my slow movements. Seeing your almost imperceptible squirm, I chastise us for last night's laziness. Your palm against my chest lifts so just your fingertips are now exploring my skin, tracking over the still-forming abs under the still-receding fat. Climbing up my chest, you raise your face to meet mine, kissing my cheek and asking me to play you.

It's a cute reference to some our favorite things. yours being the way my hands play the guitar and piano, and mine being the musical moans I can extract from your willing body with said hands. I know it takes a little courage for you to ask for sensual delights from me, even after all these years together, but I love the way the words leave your lips. My hand slides further down your back, your body snaking closer to mine as you curl your legs under you and my palm settles on your cheek, covered only in your cheeky panties. Ugh. In younger years I was an absolute boob-boy, but we both know you have long since grown me into your ass-man. You lovingly turn my face to meet yours and our lips lock together in warm wet kisses, your hand cupping the muscles of my chest again as mine massages and teases your ass. You begin a slow rocking grind, your hips pressing back into my hand, and your chest pressing into my side, demanding attention beyond the teasing friction of your sweater against your breasts. Pulling your lips from mine you once again ask me to play you, ever so slightly more needy this time. I can't resist you, especially not when you're like this.

I reach further down, this time making my way into your panties, and sliding my finger slowly down between your cheeks. The embarrassing sensitivity between them is enough to make you arch your back a little more and giggle as my finger slides past quickly and reaches your soaked lips. Your soft whimper tells me just how much you need me, your mouth absently settling against my neck kissing me when you remember where you are, and hanging sweetly open when you lose yourself to my touch. I stroke against your lips, all the way down to your clit and back up, spreading your wetness over them from your center. Dipping between them, I stroke your inner lips and kiss your forehead, smiling at just how much I can love and lust after you all at once. Your fingers have started to grip my chest and side as your pleasure builds, not yet rushing towards orgasm. I slip my finger as deep into you as I can reach, causing my palm to flatten against your cheek and grip you possessively. Over and over I finger you deeply and slowly, your wet, sultry kisses on my neck only encouraging me.

Slowly you start to rock with my fingers, the wet lace of your panties teasing your clit with unfair gentleness. The first of your purest, lust filled whimpers catches my ear as I slide a second finger into you, the others resting against your lips for you to feel. Together we build you closer, until your hand drops from my chest and gently grips my rock hard cock. You moan wantonly, demanding my lips and kissing me deeply, bottoming out on my fingers and gripping my fingers with your walls. Insistently you whisper to me to push your panties off, lifting your hips to help me. Concurrently, you open the button containing my hardness inside my boxers and engulf me fully in your warm, wet mouth, sucking me slowly, gently, deeply just as my fingers made love to you. By the time I've pushed the panties down your cheeks and struggled to get them off of your legs, you have me letting out the first of my moans. My other hand finds its way to your face, touching your cheek, neck, hair, showing you my affection and encouraging you wordlessly. You give my hardness a few more slow, soaking wet moments in mouth, and pull off as quickly as you first took me in, climbing onto me and kissing me deeply before I can protest.

You take my hands and guide them to your cheeks to hold you, spread them, and lower you onto my hardness. Your arms wrap innocently around my neck, as if we were just a pair of freshmen making out and petting for the first time. Slowly I lower you, both of us losing track of our kiss and moaning into each others mouths, slowly accepting our hot, soaking wet mating. Cursing me sweetly, you start to slowly ride me, kissing me lovingly as we moan and whimper for each other. My hands leave your ass, one gripping your side to keep pace while the other slides up your back to pull you close to me. We rock together intimately, your wetness sliding all the way up and down me, keeping our slow, languid pace. Your moans slowly become littered with the curses you refuse to utter except when we make love. I can feel you further soak me in your need, pressing all the way down onto me as I roll my hips forward. Your head throws back and immediately I lean forward to kiss your neck, knowing just what buttons you love pressed. My teeth graze against your tensed neck muscles between kisses, and your hips grinding deep into mine. I grip your hips once again, and hold you down onto my hardness, and rock my hips into you, grinding your clit as your hair falls over my face again, locking lips and kissing your moans into me.

Your moans peak again when I reach between your legs, my fingers stroking your lips around my cock, gathering our wetness and slowly bringing it back between your cheeks. You shiver as my wet fingertips glide over your rosebud, whimpering in your embarrassed pleasure and whispering insistently that you're close. Loving, giving, beautiful lover that you are you ask me how close I am, whimpering in frustration and desire when I tell you I'm building but not quite there yet. Refusing to cum alone, you reach out onto the couch and grab your soaked panties, fumbling with them so the soaked center is visible and desperately gaze into my eyes. You bring them to my nose, knowing how well you've conditioned my body to your sweet sweet scent, and moaning desperately into my ear, begging me to cum with you. You know me so fucking well, and within a few deep thrusts, I've joined you on the edge, moaning into your underwear how close I am, your perfect scent pressing buttons that nothing else can.

Your soaked panties leave traces of your wetness against my lips and nose, but still you unabashedly kiss me, whimpering as you lose the last of your control. My hands spread your cheeks and pull you down onto me as your orgasm crests, and your face falls beside mine again, letting me hear the sweet symphony of your release. Unable to hold back anymore, I shamelessly take hold of your hand with your underwear and guide it back to my nose. Inhaling your scent, hearing your moans, and feeling your pleasure through my aching shaft, I explode inside you, throbbing over and over again as we cum together, grinding and rocking through our mutual release. My moans spur you through another orgasm on the back of the first, wrapping both arms around my neck and kissing me slowly and sweetly as you grind through your second one.

Long minutes later, our panting breaths and quiet noises turn into giggles and laughter. We take stock of the sweaty heap we're in, my boxers drenched in the mess of our lovemaking. We make our sweet cuddling jabs about the effects of my fingers against your rosebud, or your panties against my nose, and between kisses we share the ever present 'I love you's. It's time we showered and checked into work.

Examination Desperation

 

Note: The students in this story are at the end of their senior year of high school. They have all turned 18.

All libraries are quiet. But today the library at Darlingdale Senior High School is especially quiet as the calculus students sit their university entrance exam. The long desks in front of the reception at which students normally sit to study have been cleared away and replaced with classroom desks spaced evenly apart. In the front row a young woman wearing the uniform plaid skirt and blue blazer is squirming in her chair. She raises her hand.

Mrs Hope, the calculus teacher, rises from her seat behind the reception desk and approaches the girl. "What's wrong?" she whispers.

"Can I please go to the toilet?"

She crouches so that her head is level with the young woman's. "No. You were told before the exam that bathroom breaks wouldn't be allowed. You'll have to hold it."

"Okay. I'm sorry."

Mrs Hope returns to her seat.

The young woman turns her attention back to the exam, but it soon wanders back to her full bladder. She looks up at the wall clock. Only twenty minutes into the exam. Two hours and forty minutes to go.

She silently curses herself for drinking so much coffee this morning. But she needed the coffee to wake herself up. She didn't sleep at all last night, because she was so nervous about today's exam. Her entire future is riding on it.

She silently chides herself for letting her thoughts wander. She resolves to get a good score on this test ― good enough to get her into the university of her choice, into the courses of her choice. Into the career of her choice. She refocuses on the exam, writing faster to make up for the lost time.

She doesn't realise it, but she oozes desperation. She is sitting with her legs tightly crossed, biting her lower lip. Her foot is tapping on the carpeted floor. Her plastic chair creaks as she rocks back and forth. It's not long before she loses concentration again.

Over the next few minutes she comes to realise that she's not going to get a good score on this test if she doesn't empty her bladder soon. It's too much of a distraction. She plucks up the courage to raise her hand again.

Mrs Hope comes over. "What is it this time?"

"I know you said no before, and please don't be angry with me, but I need to go to the loo. Can you please make an exception in my case? Please?"

"No, I can't, I'm sorry. I'm bound by school policy. There's nothing I can do, I'm afraid. You should've gone before the exam." She shrugs her shoulders and returns to her desk.

Bitch! the young woman thinks but doesn't say. She didn't go before the exam, because her car had trouble starting this morning and she only pulled into the school parking lot two minutes before commencement.

She sighs. She now knows she's not going to get the score she was hoping for. She will have to be content with a pass. That is her new goal. And she sets about achieving it. Her brows furrow in concentration as she reads the questions and writes down the answers.

Yet not twenty minutes later ― twenty minutes of crossing and uncrossing her legs, of blowing through puckered lips, of pressing her hand to her crotch, of shifting her position on her chair ― she raises her hand again.

Mrs Hope comes over again, visibly annoyed. "Yes?"

"Look, I have to go to the toilet. What happens if I just walk out and go?"

"Then you will automatically fail."

"Fail? Can't I arrange to take the test at some other time or something?"

"No, you can't. I suggest you get back to work and stop distracting those around you with these interruptions. Uh! I don't want to hear any more from you!"

"But Mrs Hope, I will fail the test anyway if I can't go."

She is already walking away and doesn't respond.

The young woman doesn't know what to do. She doesn't think she can hang on till the end of the exam, but even if she can, she doesn't think she'll pass, not with her bladder distracting her like this. One thing she does know is that she cannot fail this exam. She may or may not be able to hang on till the end, but if she walks out on this exam, she will definitely fail. And so she stays.

She continues with her exam as best she can, though she frequently has to stop writing to concentrate on holding her bladder; continues for forty minutes.

Then a tear runs down the young woman's cheek. A stream of pee hits her chair with a sound reminiscent of tap water running into a bucket. Owing to the quiet environment, everyone in the library can hear it. The stream continues for over a minute. During this time the young woman, in denial, keeps writing.

But when the snickers start among those sitting near her, the reality of what she's done hits her. She runs out of the library, ignoring the increasing laughter, runs to her car, and drives home, not caring that she will fail her exam and not be able to go to university.

When she arrives home, her mother, having heard the car pull up, stops her housecleaning and runs to meet her at the front door. "You're back early. How did it go?" She sees she is crying. "Are you all right, darling? What happened?"

"Mum, I wet my pants! In class. I didn't finish my exam; I'm sorry!"

"What? So what happens now? Do you take it another time?"

"No, Mum. I automatically fail. I won't be able to get into uni." She cries harder.

"Oh. And I suppose you now expect us to pay for you to repeat your senior year. Well, I can assure you that won't be happening. We gave you your chance, you blew it. Live with the consequences!"

The young woman has stopped crying. She looks at her mother with an expression of growing bewilderment.

"And another thing: if you want me to let you into this house, you're going to have to march straight to the place that used to be your naughty corner when you were little and sit there with your panties over your head until they dry out. If you're going to behave like a child, I'll treat you like one!"

Speechless, the young woman hesitates only a moment before taking off her panties and pulling them over head. They are white and the material is see-through where it is wet. She positions them so that she can see through the leg openings. The centre of the wet patch is right under her nostrils.

Her mother stands aside, and she makes her way to the naughty corner, thinking, One day, Mrs Hope, this'll be you! I swear it!

Debra held her bursting bladder on the bus going to her friend's house

 

Last summer I was visiting my cousin in America and I had gone out alone for the day to look around some museum, I had been drinking a few sodas because over in England we don't have sodas, well not like they do there anyway, I'd also been eating ice creams too, so by the time I was ready to leave I really needed to go to the bathroom pretty badly, but the place was closing and I wasn't able to find the bathrooms, so I thought I'd wait until I got to the bus station which was about half a mile away.

BUT, I guess I must've under estimated my need because I was finding my desperation increasing with every painful step I took, I could feel my bladder straining as I fought to keep control, I thought I'd never get to that bus park! Several times I found myself needing to suddenly stop and cross my legs or (even worse) need to frantically hold myself in publiic for a second or two until the urges died down enough to continue, it wasn't easy and because of my needing to take baby steps a lot of the time and having to keep on stopping, it took me a lot longer to get to the bus park than I had allowed, oh I was so pleased to see the entrance sign to the bus station, so pleased in fact that I automatically relaxed . . . this was a big mistake as an almost uncontrollable urge hit me and it took every bit of effort to keep my bladder under control, I was almost wetting myself! I was looking very smart in my short black dress with a nice white top and underneath I was wearing a skimpy pair of black nylon panties, I really didn't want to show myself up by wetting in public!

I felt every painful bump in that road, my muscles were working overtime to hold on

When I got to the bus station, I was so glad to see the sign ahead to the Ladies' bathrooms, but before I had a chance to cross over to the far side of the bus park where they were, I saw my bus was already leaving, so I instinctively flagged it down because I knew there wasn't another one for two hours, I got on board and sat down and through the window, I could see the sign ahead to the bus station Ladies' bathrooms, oh how I wish I'd had a chance to cross over to the far side of the bus park where they were and pee, but what could I do? I saw my bus was already leaving, so, in what seemed seconds, I'd paid my fare and I was sitting down before I realised what I had done - oh no! my bladder! It was at least an hour's journey and I was absolutely bursting for a pee. Sitting down had eased it a little, but I was soooo desperate to pee it didn't make a lot of difference really, I felt every painful bump in that road, my muscles were working overtime to hold on. The seats were the old fashioned plastic type and they wouldn't have absorbed a single drop of my pee and the bus was over three quarters full, there were a lot of other passengers, so I KNEW I just had to hold on whatever it took.

Actually, I was feeling very sexually aroused having the feeling of a bursting bladder again, you know how I like it, but I dearly wished I was in a more private situation, or I could've let a bit out? I really was beginning to seriously doubt whether I'd make it through that bus ride, it was a combination of arousing ecstasy and desperate agony every block of the way. I was so relieved when finally my stop came into view, but getting off the bus was a real struggle, I know I must've looked drunk the way I staggered down the isle and practically fell of the bus, but really it was the only way I could keep my bladder under control. By now, the spasms were coming with vengeance and even I was surprised at how I was managing to hold on, but 'hold on' I had to, so as I walked the few blocks to my cousin's housej, cursing him under my breath for not actually living on top of the bus stop and cursing the bus driver for somehow not suddenly taking it into his head to take an unexpected detour and actually dropping me off right outside a public restroom, (even though I hadn't actually mentioned my desperate situation to the poor driver). I was blaming everyone for my desperate predicament!

I was frantically having to hold myself now because I knew that if I relaxed, even for a second, I would uncontrollably publically wet myself and I was not gonna do such a thing in one of the busiest towns in America!

oh how I badly wanted and needed to pee! Oh I could hardly wait!

When I got to my cousin's house there were a couple of builders working on his roof, he'd previously tried to fix it himself but hadn't done a proper job of it, so he'd had to call in the experts in the end, but I didn't care, I knew that in a few minutes I'd be safely inside and able to pee, oh how I badly wanted and needed to pee! Oh I could hardly wait!
So with every ounce of remaining bladder strength and will power I could muster, I went up to the front door, I could picture the bathroom clearly in my mind, I could picture that wonderful white, shiny toilet just waiting for me - ooohh how I longed to be inside so I could just pee! I banged and hammered on the door, but all I could hear inside was silence, I knew he was out because the dogs weren't barking their heads off, 'no no no, this isn't happening!' my mind screamed, just then one of the builders called down, "If you're looking for the owner, he left about 10 minutes ago with his fishing gear," one of them called down to me.

Words can't explain the despair I felt, I knew where he'd gone, he'd gone to a river 10 minutes away from the house, I could barely hold on for 10 seconds let alone 10 minutes!! ooooohhhh no no, I had no choice but to get to the river, but walking back up the path just proved too much for my aching bursting bladder and despite every frantic attempt to control it, I felt a warm, wet spurt escape and run down my leg! Both hands now clutched frantically at my crutch and my crossed legs did very little to stem my gushing flow of hot pee, I could feel it escaping from me and running down my legs, splattering the path, there was nothing I could do, nothing at all!
I stood there and totally and uncontrollably soaked myself, I was aware of the sudden silence from the builders and shamefully looked up to see them watching me, I swear I could see desire in the older one's eyes, but I didn't stay around too long, I took one look at the huge puddle that I'd left on the path, then I ran down to the river to join my cousin fishing, I didn't need to tell him what I'd done, we're close and he knew anyway.

Female Desperation And Wetting Story December 16, 2007

 

 

 

 

 

Another Story I Have Come Across Enjoy The Female Desperation And Wetting

It happened while I was walking through the city center with a girlfriend during a nice, but not too hot summer day in August. We had been visiting some friends and decided to walk back to her place where I had left my car (we had gone to our friends by bus, since parking is just next to impossible in the city center). On the way home, we had got something to drink at a nice terrace at the market square (too expensive for the service, of course) and now we crossed a beautiful park area, with the usual lawns, pools, ducks and children running around. It was then that she turned to me and said: “Shit, I should have gone to the bathroom at that place on the market”. Of course I casually remarked: “Well, this place isn’t exactly fitted for a pee, is it?” while looking around and seeing everybody running around with no sheltered spot anywhere near. She nodded and added: “Still, I’ve to go *bad*. Where is the nearest pub?” Unfortunately for her, the closest place where we could possibly find a public bathroom was the market place, fifteen minutes behind us. Stupid cities with all action concentrated in one place and the rest being only offices and houses. And parks of course.

We decided to go on and try to reach her house, which was still ten minutes or so to go. After one more minute of walking, she suddenly went off the path and crossed the lawn towards a few bushes. “Sorry, I’ll try it here. I *really* need to pee”, she said. Looking for a spot where she could successfully squat down without being noticed, she almost ran around the bushes only to find a children’s playground at the other side. Rather angry she came back to me. “Grrr who has designed this park. They should force him to wet his pants,” she mumbled, and I could notice that she crossed her thighs under her wide skirt.

I wanted to try something. “Well, maybe this park was designed by a woman, you know. Back in the fifties or so, when almost every woman still wore skirts. Like you do now.” She lifted her eyebrows and looked at me. “What’s that to do with the absence of public toilets where they should be?”, she asked. Then the suddenly understood and frowned. “Oh yeah, well, you mean…”. I shrugged. “Yes. Nobody will notice. I will, but I don’t mind at all. Just go ahead, there’s nobody close and no one approaching right now.”

She sighed and looked down to her white summer skirt that reached down to just below her knees. She couldn’t help still crossing her thighs and now even pressing her hands in her crotch. “I don’t have much choice, do I? Jesus, if I don’t do it myself, I will be wet within a minute anyway. Shit. What a stupid move of me.” That said, she left the path and walked onto the grass. She looked aside, to me again, and slightly pulled up her skirt. “Do you think I can squat without people noticing?” Before I could answer, a bunch of yelling children came in from the opposite corner of the park and my friend shook her head herself. “Nope. Forget about that. Damned, I’ll look like a three-year-old girl.”

Then she stepped out of her slippers, walked for a meter on bare feet through the grass, stopped, and parted her legs a little. Her wide skirt effectively hid this pose and from a distance of more than ten meters nobody would see anything strange. To cover her up even more, I decided to go down on one knee and started to re-tie my shoelace. It appeared that she now was waiting for me to finish with my unwilling shoe lace. “Go ahead”, I said. “Just enjoy it.” She looked at me with a mix of embarassment and a smile. “Please, don’t tell anybody, okay?” I nodded. She cleared her throat. “Alright then. Shit. Shit. Shit.” Her hands grabbed her skirt, shook it loosely over her legs, and I noticed that she casually reached through her skirt to the waistband of her panties to pull them up firmly. Looking around to the people, she pulled the skirt away from the front of her panties, let it carefully fall down again, reached behind her to check that her skirt was not hanging between her legs, and then spread her legs a little more. “Okay. There we go, for god’s sake.”

She looked to her crotch and breathed deeply. Then she slowly released her muscles. I saw her pull her belly a bit inward and bite her lip when her pee flowed into her panties. She let her breath escape through her teeth and obviously felt foolish. But the relief was so big that it took over within seconds. Together with a quite satisfied expression on her face, the pee started to drip down between her legs. It became a stream, and then an even bigger stream. When she was in full swing, she giggled and looked foolishly at me. “Now, how do I look like? Wrong! Eighteen years older!” Still peeing, she casually looked around and saw nobody nearer than fifty meters. Casually she put a hand in her skirt’s left pocket. “Well, after all, this isn’t so bad. It is only my panties. And it is a warm day, anyway.” She looked to the sky. “Besides, it is not an unpleasant feeling.” Rapidly correcting herself, se added: “That is, now my panties are wet, it doesn’t matter anymore, does it?” I rose to my two feet again and told her I thought it indeed didn’t matter at all. I also told her that I really liked seeing her standing with her legs a bit apart, wearing a skirt, and thoroughly wetting her panties. She looked away and blushed. “Really? Well, at least that will keep you from making fun out of me.”

Then the stream died away and she quickly bend her knees, crossed her thighs and in this half-squatting position she squeezed her panties as well as she could. A last gush of pee trickled onto the ground. She straightened her back again, turned around, picked up her slippers and continued her walk on the path with me. On the way back, we didn’t talk anymore about what happened, and she only three times grabbed her skirt to make sure it didn’t touch her panties.

Within ten minutes we reached her home. While I sat down and picked up a hifi magazine, she went upstairs and I expected to hear her rumbling about in the bathroom. To my amazement I heard her coming back down within half a minute. When I looked up from the magazine, she stood right in front of me, legs slightly apart, wearing a very short white sports skirt instead of her long one. She said nothing, just looked at me. I stared to her in disbelief. We were friends, but had no relation. I had seen her in short skirts before, but never so clearly challenging. “Still wearing the same panties?”, I asked, knowing that she just had not had the time to change them and dry herself. In answer she came closer and just said: “Look for yourself.” Putting down my magazine, I reached for the hem of her skirt and slowly I lifted it with both hands. It reveiled light-blue plain panties, just below her waist, sporting a dark stain centered in her crotch and spreading around for about fifteen centimeters, While she still stood there, I got out of the chair and lifted up her skirt from behind. Same story. I just said “Wow!”.

Then she turned around and told me to follow while she entered the garden. Arrived there, she squatted down and clearly made preparations to pee her panties again. Now I couldn’t hold myself any longer. “Please, stop it for a moment. Can I join you?” Playing she was shocked, she looked up to me. “Just join me? Right as you stand there? C’me on, you won’t get away with a soaked pair of jeans.” But she rose to her feet and directed me into the house again. “Wait here. I’ll get you what you need.” Hurrying up the stairs, she clearly showed her wet panties under her skirt. Almost as if I knew what was coming, I started to take off my shoes, socks, and jeans. Just as I put them on a chair, now only being dressed in a shirt and my underwear, reveiling an undeniable bulge in my pants, she dashed down again and gigglingly handed me one of her tiny skirts. It was a very simple model, just a band of fabric of about thirty centimeters with an elastic waistband. I slipped it on. The skirt covered my underwear enough to be useful, and since it was all but tight, my bulge dissapeared completely. My girlfriend circled me and giggled again. “It does not fit you. You have no hips, and those furry legs really seem silly. Still, it will do.” She entered the garden again and I followed her like in a dream.

Arrived where she wanted to be, she turned and took my hands in hers. Standing about a meter from eachother, we spread our legs, wider this time, and waited. I felt a great urge to pee, but wanted to see her reaction. After ten seconds, she said: “Well, now you know how it feels, standing in the open and knowing that someone watches you while you are going to pee your panties.” I smiled. “Are you ready? I am.” She nodded. “Yes, I am.” She winked with her left eye. “Now?” As an answer I looked down towards my skirt, held my breath, and carefully let go some pee. I felt my underwear eagerly absorb it as it touched the fabric. I peed some more. Then I looked my friend straight into her eyes and told her I’d wet myself. Quickly she lifted my skirt with her right hand and checked. When she saw the stained front of my pants, she smiled and let the skirt fall down again. Then she put both her arms in her sides and threw her long hair over her shoulder with a rapid head movement. She looked down to her own skirt and I heard a soft, hissing sound. While she carefully peed her panties again, I lifted her skirt for the second time and watched the pee as it surged through the fabric, making the blue panties seem like interwoven with silver threads in the bright sunlight. The stream soon soaked the panties again, and finding no way out, gradually trickled down onto the ground.

With a groan, I let myself go, and soon my whole crotch felt warm and moist, while a steady stream flowed from under my skirt between my legs onto the grass. Now my girlfriend suddenly reached under my arms forward to my skirt, lifted it above my waist, and thereby pushing my arms higher, so that I lifted her skirt altogether as well. For one second, she gazed at my underwear, showing a completely stained front and a big bulge with pee flowing around it. Then, she came closer, and pushed her crotch against mine. Her hands let go of my skirt and grabbed my ass, pulling my wet underwear tightly against her wet panties. I still peed, and she must have felt that. She peed as well, and I sure as hell felt that. While still peeing, she started to move rhythmically with her hips, and I could nothing but follow her lambada. We stood there for thirty seconds, peeing our panties and firmly pushing our crotches together. We didn’t kiss. Then I felt another function taking over in my abdomen. I started to push back harder, and she immediately reacted. It took us five more seconds to reach the point of no return. She closed her eyes and groaned. I slipped my hands under her skirt and firmly squeezed her wet buttocks. Then I came. My friend let out a high-pitched squeek and shuddered over all her body. She
took fifteen seconds to complete the orgasm.

We held each other for quite a time. Then, we stepped back a little, so that our skirts fell down properly. We both did not feel at all like taking them off or changing our underwear. Instead, she entered the house to make some tea and I sat down on a garden chair, careful to pull up my skirt first. Amazingly, the front of my skirt still was still completely unstained. We sat there, drinking tea and casually letting something find its way out, for the rest of the day, until sunset forced us inside to prevent our bladders from catching cold. Because, as she said, it was nice to wet yourself when you could get away with it so easily, but sadly that was not always the case. I could nothing but agree.

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