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My first public wetting was in a large city...


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On 6/14/2019 at 10:15 PM, Pistachio said:

Growing up in a fairly large city, one learns quite a few things they would not learn elsewhere. If you walk like you know where you're going, people don't bother you. The cashier really doesn't care if you buy tampons. Some homeless people need help, and some are belligerent drunkards.

 

What nearly two decades of living in close proximity to others did not teach me right away was this:  how to wet in public.

 

I learned from a very helpful tumblr blogger whose name escapes me (ack!) that just like when walking, you shouldn't care. Continue to act like you own the place. 

 

It was something my then-anxiety-riddled brain couldn't comprehend. But then he told me there were advantages to being a girl.  And that's where the story begins. 

 

 it was December. It was a time when every step crunched, every breath stabbed,  every woman sported the sweater dress- leggings-and-boots combo,  and every bladder filled quicker than usual. This particular December day was especially ruthless up there in the north, but I was in no condition to focus on the weather. 

 

You see, what I was about to embrace was an opportunity that did not come very often. As you may very well imagine, growing up in close quarters means somebody older than you does the laundry. For that entire week,  I was house-sitting for someone else, meaning I would have to do my own laundry.

 

My plan was to go outside, grab a chai tea latte, read a book, then come back to keep the precious cats company. Nothing fancy. 

 

I mentioned that I pretty much did not focus on the weather, but I didn't completely ignore it either. Being the modest dresser that I was and continue to be,  I wore a very long, dark skirt with leggings underneath to keep me warm. 

 

My plan went pretty well initially. I was in a hurry to meet the snow as it was falling, so no sooner had I awakened and fed the cats than I grabbed my coat, scarf, and gloves, all mismatching in color, and aforementioned the warm skirt combo. Had I forgotten something? No, of course not, I brought the book with me. 

 

The coffee shop I intended to visit was about a mile or so away, but I plowed through the snow, caught some snowflakes on my tongue, and felt like I was 5 years old again.

 

Perhaps the extremely slightly nagging feeling down below and my promptly ignoring it in favor of fun had something to do with it. It could wait. I had my alone time in a warm, cozy environment to get to. 

 

Despite the joy of it being my favorite season and looking at all of the Christmas displays in the shops, the cold was beginning to get to me. I could no longer feel my nose at this point, but I could definitely feel a fair bit of pressure building somewhere else. No matter. I could use the restroom in the coffee shop and all would be well. 

 

Relief flooded me as feeling returned to my face, a blast of warm air shooting through me as I entered the coffee shop. It was still early morning but there were already a few patrons.

 

The sudden warmth on my face slowly seeped into the rest of me as I ordered my chai tea latte, but the warmth turned my attention to another part of me that had potential to get even warmer, and wetter besides, if I didn't do something about it eventually. 

 

While waiting for my drink, I hit up the bathroom and the worst thing that could possibly happen did: the knob wouldn't turn. 

 

Which meant you needed the key.

 

 if that had been me up to about a year ago, I would have had no trouble with contacting a worker. But there was something about the extremely daunting task of admitting your desperate condition to someone else that made me simply weak in the knees back then. I couldn't do it. My anxiety was too great to even try to ask.

 

One of the workers called my name, drawing my attention to the steaming cup full of vanilla goodness. 

 

The need wasn't too bad, I decided. I would stay for awhile regardless. I wasn't going to let my silly little bladder ruin my precious simple plans.

 

In hindsight, maybe that wasn't the best idea. As I sipped my absolutely delicious drink, I really don't remember anything that book had to offer. I couldn't tell you how Laurence and Temeraire got separated, or if they were able to take back the cure for the dragon plague to England. The words just seemed to swim in a pale cream colored liquid...and drinking it made matters worse, bringing squeezes of protests within my lower abdomen.  The drink was far too expensive to simply toss, however, so I kept at it until I couldn't even return to the place I had stopped reading. I wasn't even aware that I had stopped reading in the first place, only that my mind was absolutely filled with the fact that although there was a toilet nearby I simply couldn't get to it because I was afraid to ask and display any sign of desperation.  Other nearby shops weren't open because of the crazy dawn hour.

 

Knowing all this, I did my best to ignore it. It felt like hours before I gave up and I snapped the book shut. No solutions would come in that coffee shop. It was time to return to my neighbor's house and their cats.

 

The cozy, homey warmth of the shop was stripped away from me in one blow as I exited into the December morning, leaving a candle flame of comfort in my hand where the drink was.  I finished the drink and started walking, painfully aware of where it was going to end up soon, but the taste and heat did provide some momentary comfort. 

 

But now I was in trouble. The mile long journey home with seemed longer than it actually was. Every step seemed a journey in and of itself. Less than halfway there, a sudden wave shoved my thighs together and I struggled to not display my weakness with the classic hand between thighs display I'd seen all too often in drawings and cartoons. I was grateful that I was wearing a skirt, so nobody could see me press my knees together and regain composure that way.

Clenching my fists and gritting my teeth, I strode with resolve and the classic big city walk that gave no indication that I was trying to hold all of what must have been Lake Erie back so that it wouldn't even touch my pants.  

My body ached to release what it had right then and there but anxiety had so many issues with that: displays to others, displays on the snow that would be way too big to be mistaken for that of a dog, people in their houses may have been watching--

 

I was so panicked by that thought that I barely realized the very subtle hiss until I remarked how utterly warm my thigh felt. 

 

Dignity be damned, I was stopping that stream that instant, young lady!

 

My mitten snaked down between my legs and I clamped my hand onto myself, regaining control through sheer force of will, and briefly looking around to see if anyone saw that. Nope. 

 

But then a memory tickled the edges of my brain.  The flashes of jealousy of the tumblr user who flooded his pants on a regular basis wherever: in malls, at libraries, in plain view of college students too busy with their project to care...

 

But I was armed with a skirt. 

 

My brain instantly fought the idea and screamed in protest as I continued to walk and slowly relaxed myself, only hesitating while I was at the cusp of just letting everything out.  At last, my brain relented in the most tsundere manner you could imagine.

 

My decision was instantly rewarded by wet warmth snaking down my once-cold legs-- only briefly, not enough to drip onto the snow or taint my lovely boots. 

 

This time I needed my mitten to stop myself, seeing its pink surface darken slightly when I was able to pull it away. Too close. 

 

But I did feel slightly better after that.  My nether regions were deliciously soaked with the stuff, my heart was pounding at doing something so crazy and dangerous and new, and the best part was that it was completely invisible to everyone who would pass me by. If they passed me by. 

 

Perhaps, I told myself, perhaps just a tiny bit more. The wind was already beginning to sap the warmth from the wet, leaving in its wake a more merciless cold than before.

 

There was only one solution. 

 

After waiting for what seemed like an hour before I deemed it cold and dry enough to try again, I took a deep breath and relaxed with a happy sigh. 

My thighs were instantly drenched and I yelped in panic, only just stopping myself before the flow reached my boots. Another surge of relief and powerful disbelief that only comes with getting away with something flooded me much more thoroughly than I did my leggings. 

 

But I grew impatient. Each time waiting for my leggings to grow cold and dry was agony on my legs, and I was almost at my neighbor's house.  It was still very early...I looked around, realizing no one was watching me through the windows and no one was out for a walk like I was. 

 

I could only imagine the heart of a thief before he pulls off his first major heist. It certainly couldn't have been much different from the way my own heart was hammering against my throat as I carefully stepped relatively close to a tree, where a dog would normally go, spread my legs far enough apart to ensure the safety of my lovely boots, and let go.

 

I had to fight not to cry out in sheer pleasure as I heard the snow beneath me die away with a hiss, fully aware of every sensation thanks to the cold. I could feel my panties grow hot, a few droplets merging into streams that clung to my calves but stayed there, and I pictured the kamikaze waterfall staining any snow that survived a faint yellow. 

 

All too soon, the flow ebbed, then stopped all at once. Dizzy with relief, I walked briskly to my neighbor's house, only daring a glance backward at the damage. 

 

Perhaps it was a very big dog that caused it. 

 

Upon entering the neighbor's house, the cats immediately knew something happened. I stripped off my boots and started to clean up, washing the leggings as quickly as I could, then hanging them up to dry.

 

One of the cats walked right up to them, sniffed them, and stared at me in such a way that I knew I was being judged.

 

Then again, cats always judge. But they never divulge secrets. 

 

 

Thanks for sharing that fantastic account!

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