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  1. 27 points
    Hey All I’ve been wanting to write this story. Since I haven’t been contributing for a long time, I finally mustered the will to do so. So in retrospect, this happened quite a while ago. I tried to stay true to what I felt happened, but I took the liberty to exaggerate some elements. Just a little intro of me, I’m around 170 cm and weigh 60 kg. I try to be a healthy and athletic, been keeping a consistent routine with meals and the gym. Although I do get some naughty meals here and there. Also I have my boyfriend for 4 years. So on this particular day, we decided to have a little fun together. It was almost noon, maybe around 11 am when we both agreed to have our breather and have some omo fun, well the 2nd part for me in particular. I forgot to mention, his into bondage, even more so Japanese rope bondage. So, I was wearing my boyshorts, tights and bodysuit while he got the hemp rope ready. While standing in front of the mirror, he softly wrapped the rope around my neck and down my body. Slowly knotting and forming the diamond pattern as he bound the rope around my body. I stood still has he manoeuvred the excess rope, pulling and tugging it taut until it slightly dug into me. It wasn’t uncomfortably tight but snug like jeans half a size too small. After completing and staring at my body with the mesmerizing diamond pattern, he ordered me to put my jumpsuit on. The jumpsuit was probably my only outfit which fully hid the rope around my neck with its collar. The same jumpsuit I use for my fun layering challenges. Not soon later, maybe half past 11 am and he said we’re heading out. I felt shivers run down my spine as I heard this. We left as soon as I got my purse and boots on. About 45 minutes later, we arrived at the shopping centre. Perfect time for lunch he instructed as we walked down the centre towards the restaurants. I felt so naughty being bound yet able to move freely, but not for long as I was bound under his control. We took a stroll around until he decided specifically on the Ramen shop. I didn’t think much of the ramen broth as I drank most of it up and we ordered a lemon ginger tea. However, not long after, I felt my bladder remind me of its impending fullness. We left the restaurant after paying and headed towards the clothing stores. I remember looking at his face and seeing him smile with his puppy eyes like nothing was amiss. Although I’ve been in ropes before, being in public makes the ropes feel alive. You’re conscious of each muscle you move as the ropes dig into you. Every breath I took reminded me of my predicament. It didn’t help at all that it felt nice lol. He walked into one of the stores and began browsing around, I was following his lead. After a few loops of the isles, he grabbed a few articles of clothing and smiled at me. I felt my bladder ached as my stomach dropped, he wanted me to try them on. I grabbed the clothes and went to the change rooms. A staff member instructed me which stall to use. My legs felt like jelly as I nervously walked past the lady and into the stall. Once I entered the stall, I closed the blinds and made sure they went to the edges of the stall wall. I hung my purse and clothes then looked at the mirror, I was slightly flushed. My heart was racing as I began to undo my belt and each individual button of my jumpsuit, revealing the bright ropes over my black undergarments. I took a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I let my jumpsuit drop to the floor as I undid the last button, staring at my mesmerizing but lewd bound up body. I went through the pile of clothes my boyfriend chose, they were a pair of skinny jeans, white blouse and a pink playsuit. As I pulled up the jeans, my phone buzzed and with my BF demanding to see me. I quickly put on the white blouse and face timed him. The thin blouse almost did nothing to hide the exposed ropes. I bit my lip as this was felt so erotic, if someone would to see me like this, I would die of embarrassment. I did the same with the playsuit, although a bit better hiding the body, the rope around my neck wasn’t covered. My body was burning hot. I slid my hand down the smooth fabric of the playsuit, ever so often there were bumps from the rope. My bladder was bulging, bound up by the shibari and nowhere to expand. I caressed my nether region distracting me from my bladders fullness. My whole body flinched as my phone vibrated with ‘naughty girl’. It was like he could read my mind. I quickly removed the playsuit and back into my jumpsuit. Double checking my bondage didn’t show through my clothes. I opened the curtains and gave the clothes to the lady. My Boyfriend once again smiled at me as we made our way out. My bladder at that point was around 8-9, I knew we should be heading back soon, or so I thought – instead he brought me to a café. “Desert time.” He said, “Large coffee, right.” “B-.” I utter before obeying, “Yes.” We both sat down around a small table. I was trying to keep my composure, but the tight ropes weren’t helping. I was near my limit of not squirming. We didn’t have to wait long till the waitress brought out cups of coffee and a cupcake. I was hesitant drinking the coffee, knowingly it would be my doom and it was damn hot. “We’re not leaving until you finish it.” He warned me. While it felt like I took forever to drink that cup of coffee, it only took around 10 minutes in total. After finishing, I was anticipating going home since it took almost an hour to get here. But like all good Doms, I had one more challenge before that happens. I could barely stand straight, the rope tightening as my bladder expanded. Restricting me like a snake, especially my tender bladder. “I just need some groceries.” He simply requested I gasped and doubled forward as I almost laughed at this stupid request. I felt the ropes tighten each breath, before calming down. It seemed so stupid but just like him to delay my need. We went down to the supermarket and quickly went got what we needed. I walked leaning on the trolley, just to decrease the pressure, albeit not by much. I was at a solid 9/10, I needed to pee so badly. We went through the self-checkout, put the items into the car and finally our journey back. I couldn’t keep still in the seat, crossing and tapping my legs. I even jammed my hands into my crotch, squeezing them with my legs. 20 minutes left till we get home, I could feel my bladder throb – probably from the coffee. I was now at my wits end, almost frozen holding myself. Trying not to wet his seat took all my concentration and energy. I began massaging my lower lips. I used the tightness of the ropes, thrusting my hips and grinding to the edge. We managed to get home without me wetting. it was around 4 pm so I’ve now been holding for over 5 hours. The challenge begins as I could barely move without causing a leak. My boyfriend help me get out of the car, despite how slow I could move. I waddled with my legs together to the bathroom, arms around my BF’s shoulder. He placed his hand on my bloated bladder protruding from my abdomen. “This is your reward.” He said as he slide his hand into my clothes while standing behind me. He grabbed the rope and began tugging, with his other hand he caressed from the outside. My whole body went numb with bliss and pleasure. I completed cave in and let him massage me. I could feel my body slowly succumb but still denying to wet myself. However, just a few more careful hand movements, I fell into an out of the world orgasm. My whole body collapses in the bathtub, peeing through everything. My bladder kept going for over 2 minutes, the most relaxing feeling ever. “You held it amazingly.” He praised me while hugging me. While I took a few minutes to regain composure, he got back to the groceries - Cant for those. After the we had an amazing fun bed time together. And finally the clean up. And this was one of the most amazing experiences we’ve had lol
  2. 19 points
    This was fun lol these are half jeans I guess (the didn’t show it as much as I liked I was fully soaking and it only appeared a bit these were too absorbent whoops!) Te video won’t upload again I’m going to try it a bit later on my kindle and it it doesn’t work I’ll have to wait to post it tomorrow until then here’s the pictures. I may do more on the weekend but it just depends (I don’t really know if I’m doing it 100% correctly I’m jus messing around. ) F77C01A2-DF3B-4DF7-B620-D13AE5C3D670.mov
  3. 18 points
    "Are those uniform?" I turn to see Angie - my boss - leering over me and pointing at my toes. "Pardon?" "Those shoes," she says, looking me in the eye with her steely gaze. "Not really uniform are they?" "Err..." "You know there's a reason we have a uniform." "Oh come off it, Angie!" I moan, sliding a hand into my pocket. "My other shoes are dirty - I can get away with these for one day, right?" "How did your other shoes get dirty?" "The, err, rain yesterday. I got them muddy on the way home," I say to her. Actually I woke up late and couldn't find them, but it was pretty muddy yesterday. "Well they still aren't uniform," she says with a sneer. "What, you want me to take them off? Should I do my shift barefoot?" "...Don't let it happen again," she snarls at me. She turns to walk out the staff-room, stopping at the door and turning to me. "I'll be making a note of this." She says before walking out. I stick my tongue out at her as the door closes behind her. They're just trainers. Who really cares about shoes, right? It's not even like they're a bright colour - they're black, just like the uniform shoes. And a lot comfier, mind you. Does anyone even look at our shoes at work? Like who actually cares abou- "Forgot your shoes again Amy?" There's a voice from the door. It's Charlie, one of my coworkers. "Maybe," I say with a smirk. She smirks back. "Angie have a go at you?" "Of course." "The same Angie who spilled gravy on her shoes last week, then came in the next day in studded boots?" "Did she actually?" "Yeah," Charlie laughs. "She got a right earful off Mick." "You on your break?" "Yeah," She says, taking a seat on the little stool by the wall, pulling a sandwich out of her bag. "God! Been a long shift. Some customers, let me tell you..." "What's happened today?" I ask with a feigned sigh. "Oh, the usual... Well, not quite," She says, beginning to laugh. "Someone today complained about their gazpacho soup starter. You'll never guess what was wrong with it." "What was it?" "They wanted it warmed up!" She giggles. "You should have seen the way his friends looked at him when he angrily told me the chefs didn't know what they were doing! I could have died!" "Ha!" "His mates told him it was meant to be cold! I wish you could have seen him cringe! Went as red as the soup," she says, giggling all the while. "Still, he made up for it with a generous tip." I stand up and drop my bag to one of the other stools, taking out my work shirt. "Was he anyone I knew?" "Maybe," Charlie says, taking a bite out of her sandwich. "He was the regular with the curly hair." She goes on, spitting out bread crumbs. "Oh, him!" I say, taking my shirt off and draping my work shirt over my shoulders. "With the wide nose?" "That's the one." Charlie grins to me. "No time to iron, either?" "Hm? Oh!" I look down at my crinkled shirt as I do the buttons up. "Do you think Angie will notice?" "She notices everything," Charlie reminds me. "She had a go at me one time for wearing odd socks." "Really? Odd socks?" I say, dropping my jeans to my feet and stepping out of them. "You're telling me," she says through another mouthful. "I left them in her locker after my shift. She wasn't pleased with that." "Especially with the state of your socks," I smirk, pulling up my work skirt. "I'll have you know my socks are just fine." "Pretty sure they've set off the smoke alarms more often than the toaster," I add, tying my apron around my waist. She sticks her tongue out at me as I move to the mirror. Well, I'm not the best presented today, with my un-ironed white blouse and my black trainers, but I'd call myself passable. The rest of my uniform is more or less fine. Dark grey skirt, white apron, grey tights. Familiar sight. My hair could be better, but maybe my mussy hay-coloured ponytail will offset my wrinkled blouse. If not, the apron covers most of it. Still, I've come in looking worse. So's Charlie, for that matter. "Looking on point," Charlie says to me, biting into her sandwich and giving me the 'okay' symbol with her free hand. I give her some finger guns back. "Out to work then," I sigh, giving myself one last look in the mirror. "Gotta use the loo first." "Good luck getting past Angie," Charlie mumbles through bread. I roll my eyes at her knowingly. "Ah! Amy!" Comes a horribly familiar voice as I leave the staff room. "Got a couple sat down at table four, go and get their order." "I just gotta use the loo real qui-" "First the shoes, now this - no, go and server table four." "But I need to go!" "You're meant to go before work, get to it," she growls. I frown as she briskly turns away to deal with something in the kitchen. Technically, she's right. I should have gone before work. But I woke up late! I didn't have time to go this morning, and then I missed my train, so I bought some Red-Bull and missed the next train (Bloody thing was early!) so I had to wait for a third - I didn't know if that would be early too so I didn't dare leave the platform, then that train was late so I sat around for a good fifteen minutes for nothing, then I'm bricking it on the whole ride to work because I thought I was an hour late, then I checked the roster to find I'd been moved forward an hour and all my panicking was for nothing, then I got to work just on time. No time for a toilet break at any point, and the Red-Bull was a poor idea. Now Angie won't let me use the toilet. Bitch. Why did it have to be Angie today? Why couldn't we have Dan today? Dan's pretty cool. He doesn't get hung up on footwear, or stop us using the toilet. Sometimes he lets us have a drink on the job too. I like Dan. Still, it is what it is - and what it is is me trying to ignore an uncomfortably full bladder while I try to take an order from table four. I do my best to walk forward without rubbing my legs together as I make my way to the table. Work goes as one might expect from a usual day. I take table four's order and relay it to the kitchen. Then I direct in some more customers to a table. Then I ask Angie if I can use the toilet. Then I try not to frown as I take the new group's order after Angie's told me to hold it. Then I bring in table four's starters, one in each hand - it's a lot harder to balance when it feels like I've got a balloon in my belly. What's even harder is bring them a bottle of wine, hearing it swish back and forth, trying to look natural and ignore the fact I think I'm blushing as I put it on the table. It's agony to watch as I pour it into the glass for the girl, hearing it splash and trickle into the glass, watching her swirl it around the glass like she knows what she's doing, then pouring in more. I'm no stranger to holding it in for a long time - there's been plenty of long study sessions where I've put off using the toilet to finish an essay - hell, there have been plenty of close calls after the essays were finished. And there was one time that I ended up 'using the toilet' as I was finishing the summary. Worth it though, I got top marks on that paper. Desk smelled a bit funny afterwards... A crashing sound from behind me as I walk away from table four cuts my thought process short. I close my eyes before I turn around. When I open them I can see the wine bottle on the floor, shattered to pieces. A puddle of white wine is slowly making its way toward me. "Sorry!" The man says at the table, smiling at me. "It's quite alright," I lie to him. "I'll bring you a new one right away." The kitchen doors close behind me as I walk in, going straight for the cupboard. I ignore the call of the bathroom door to my right as I take out some cleaning roll, a dust pan, and a brush. It hurts to turn my back on it as I walk back out. Angie catches me before I can leave. "What's happened now?" She asks. "Dropped something?" "A customer, in fact," I say to her, frowning. "Dropped a bottle as I left the table." "Nothing to do with you then?" She asks. I give her a sickly smile and walk out. "Awfully sorry," the man says as I walk up to the table. I put the wine in front of him, then bend down to the floor. The pressure on my bladder skyrockets, and it takes some effort to not moan. "It's alright," I repeat, still lying. "It happens, right?" "Well quite," the girl says. "Good thing you'd walked away at least," the man says as I wipe up the wine. The wet touch of wine through the cloth makes me wince again as my bladder begs for relief. I'm almost jealous of the wine bottle and the fact it's now completely empty. I throw the wet tissue into the dustpan and start sweeping up the glass. "If you'd have been closer it would have spilled on your uniform," the man says. "Might have got some on your....shoes." It takes some effort, but I manage to not tell him to fuck off. Instead I smile at him and turn to walk away, bringing the dustpan with me. "Excuse me!" Someone besides me calls out as I'm walking down the restaurant. It's a middle aged man, waving his plate to me. "I ordered the steak well done - this is very pink," he says, prodding it with his knife. I look at the dustpan in my hand, then back at him. He doesn't flinch. "My apologies sir," I say to him, offering my hand out to him. He gives me the plate. "I'll bring it back to you well done." Well done? Who the fuck has their steak well done? It's enough to distract me from my bladder for a second, but not long. I push open the kitchen door with one foot, shooting pressure into my bladder again, making me wince. Angie greets me and takes the plate out my hand. "What's wrong with this?" "N-not cooked enough," I say to her. I blush at the stutter. "He wanted it well done." "It is well done." "Do you want to go and argue with him?" I ask, emptying the dustpan into the bin. She doesn't respond. "Can I go to the toilet now?" "No, you can go on break." "But Angie, I-" "No buts, you should have gone before." "I'm going to go in my uniform!" "You're going-" She shouts, turning back to me with a new plate. "To bring this to table eight." I frown at her. She smiles at me. It's no use arguing with her. I don't really have any other choice than to hold it. I don't really have long that I can though. I bring the plate over to table eight. They all give me some gormless looks and glance at each other, trying to figure out who it belonged to. After a painful minute they decide it belongs to the balding man on the end. "Oh, before you leave," says one of the women on the table. "Could you refill our water?" Fuck. "Of course," I say with a smile, taking the empty jug from the table. Filling it up is agony. The water splashes into the jug, swirling around as it fills. Each splash and drip is painful to look at, reminding me of the building pressure inside me, building up like a volcano, ready to erupt in my- Shit! That felt warm. Please tell me that wasn't what I thought it was. I shuffle my legs together on the spot, trying to figure out what it was. A quickly cooling feeling between my legs tells me it's what I was dreading. I leaked. It's only a little though. Just - just the tiniest of dribbles. I can hold it. Shit! It's coming out - not me, the jug! I've over filled it! I pull the jug away from the tap and pour some out, trying to ignore the splashing sounds of the water hitting the sink. I cross one leg over the other and pray that no one can see me. I turn around with the jug in both hands, trying to ignore the cooling spot in my tights as I walk back to the table. I place the jug down and- "Sorry, could I get a refill?" The balding man at the end of the table raises his empty glass to me. I smile at him and pick up the jug. My aching bladder begs me to put it down, but I mustn't. I bring the jug over to his glass and begin pouring. The splash is almost enough for me to relax on the spot, but I barely maintain my composure, slowly filling the glass. I really hope he doesn't notice me screwing my face up as it pours. "Thank you very much," he says, waiting for me to stop pouring. I almost flick water into my face as I yank the jug back, thankful that I don't have to hear it spilling out a second longer. He gives me an odd look, but I don't care. I smile weakly at him as I put the jug down. I can't hold it any more though - I need to pee, and I need to pee now. I make my way to the kitchen. My bladder almost gives way as I march into the kitchen at the back. The second I'm out of view of customers I slam my hands between my thighs, rushing to the toilet door. "Where are you going?" Comes Angie's voice from across the room. "T-toilet!" I shout back, turning to face her. "I can't hold it!" "Yes you can." She frowns, walking over to me. She hands me the steak from before. "Take this, you can go after." "T-thanks!" I moan, relieved just to hear that soon I can pee. I can barely focus on the plate in my hand as I walk out - the pressure from my bladder is just too much. Each step hurts - first as I lift my leg which pushes on my bladder, and second as my foot hits the ground and sends a shock-wave directly through it. With every single step. The short walk to the table might as well be miles for all it feels like. I smile as I reach the table, leaning forward to put the plate down. Another hot spurt in my tights. I can't do this anymore. I feel my eye twitch as I place the steak down - I don't wait for a response as I turn away, almost running back to the bathroom. "Excuse me!" FUCK. I turn around to hear the man from table four. He beckons me over. "Is our main going to be much longer?" He asks. I go to answer him, but no words come out. That's when I know I've gone too long. My bladder stops being painful - it goes up a step. I can feel all the built up pressure now, mounting up inside me in an unpleasantly hot wave, building up through my chest. I look down and force myself not to moan. I clamp my legs together, blushing at the thought of them looking at me. "Is everything...okay?" I hear the woman ask. I can barely bring up my head to look at her - it's as if my bladder is pulling my head in. I bring one leg up the other, trying harder and harder to resist the mounting pressure - the desperate wave that's about to push against me. I can feel myself tearing up. The pressure keeps building for what feels like hours, all the while this couple is watching my every move. I've never been as embarrassed - but something tells me the worst is yet to come, and it's going to come down my legs. My breathing gets short and fast as every last muscle in my body fights against my bladder - I can't go, not now! Not in front of customers. I just have to... FUUUUUUCK. It's back. The warmth between my legs. I felt it come out of me, and now I can feel it slowly trickling down my inner thigh - and there's nothing I can do to stop it. It's just a matter of time now until they can see it running under my skirt. Another powerful wave of desperation sweeps over me, and this time I can't stop a moan. The woman says something, but I can't make it out - all my focus is on stopping my bladder, and it's beginning to fail. The warm trail between my legs begins to pick up speed, now I can feel it coming out of me as I stand on the spot. One last burst of energy (and an embarrassingly loud moan) is all I can muster to halt the tide that's about to burst out of me - and it's not enough. I sigh out heavily, lurching forward as my bladder takes total control. I can hear the hiss as it forces itself to empty into my uniform. The warmth immediately cascades down my legs, splattering onto the ground at my feet. But I've lost the energy to care - right now, the only thing I feel is relief. And God is it good! All the pressure built up in me is now pouring out in a powerful stream, straight down my legs and soaking into my tights. It floods into my shoes, warming my feet as pee coats them entirely. The puddle beneath me ripples and splashes as pee pours off my legs, flicking hot droplets onto my ankles. The shallow pants from moments ago are replaced by long, drawn out sighs. The world seems to hold still, waiting for my bladder to empty. Watching and staring as urine soaks down my legs, soaking into even my skirt which clings to my wet tights, inviting in more pee and soaking them almost black as it seeps through the material in a round stain that blossoms around my backside. My knees begin to go weak, losing strength almost as quickly as my bladder loses its contents onto the floor below. I grab ahold of the table in front of me for balance. The relief begins to fade away from me as my bladder reaches half empty. The still growing puddle on the wood floor beneath me now engulfs both my feet. I squeeze my toes together and try not to giggle as they squish. I don't quite know why, but I'm getting the growing urge to giggle, even as warm pee continues to splash down my legs. It feels like hours that I'm stood there before the dripping stops. Stood there, in front of these people - in view of the entire restaurant...wetting myself. I'm almost expecting them to break into applause. I breathe out one last sigh and decide that the only thing I can do now is try to act like it never happened. I force myself off the table and stand unsteadily in front of the couple. I cast them a polite smile. "Your mains will be ready in just a moment." I'm about to turn away when the woman calls me back. "You might want to bring some tissues with you." I cast her a look so stern I could see her physically recoil. I quickly turn back to hide the smile from how proud I am of that. Well Angie didn't really want me taking this to management. Because she knows that she'd be fired. Ideally out of a cannon. So she struck a deal with me; I got to go home early - which was a given - but she also gave me Monday off. And today's Friday. And I have weekends off. She gave me her tips for the day too, and removed the note about my trainers. Maybe I should wet myself more often at work.
  4. 16 points
    if anyone read my desperation story on the other forum these are the videos that go with it. i honestly thought i was going to lose it on the way home. my crotch kept throbbing and i ended losing control in the driveway after i changed my pants not even 15 minutes later. sorry about the 4shared links for some reason trying to download bigger files on here just doesn't work. anyways, enjoy! car desperation: https://www.4shared.com/video/YKAjQW-fiq/20191126_191159.html wetting: https://www.4shared.com/video/IpyqzAGHea/20191126_193659.html
  5. 14 points
    So I used to date someone who worked in schools and through her and her friends I would hear all sorts of stories relating to desperation in schools. I had written stories very loosely based on people and situations told to me back then but never posted it anywhere, so I thought I'd post them today. These are totally fictional, of course! Teacher bladder is a real thing. I experienced it myself, regularly holding it from 6:30 AM to after school was dismissed when I was a teacher. I was eventually hired for a job for my state’s department of education licensing new teachers, though, after five years of teaching experience (I was 27 when I started the new job). Part of my job was observing new teachers and giving feedback. I took my job seriously, but there was one thing I didn’t realize would happen. I saw a lot of desperate young ladies who were inexperienced in their teacher bladder. I’m ashamed to admit, but it’s always been a turn on for me, and I couldn’t help but secretly enjoy that part of the job. Over the course of a decade, in fact, I witnessed at least a dozen accidents. The first teacher I witnessed an accident with I almost missed. Her name was Ms. Thompson and she was a tall and curvy blonde woman. On this day, she had on a black dress that was a button-up. It went down to her knees and didn’t have sleeves but had a conservative neckline - an appropriate and common dress for teachers. (There’s such similarity in teacher clothes; you’ll see the same slacks, cardigans, blouses, etc. As a male teacher, I never had to think too deeply about my wardrobe, but you slowly realize observing teachers how much effort there is to look professional, be comfortable, and not be revealing in front of students - especially since I focused on high school teachers.) Regardless of the conservative dress, I casually noticed her thick body meant her butt was still hugged tightly by the dress and quite prominent. That’s when I noticed her legs were tightly crossed as she was giving instructions this class period. I had certainly seen desperate teachers before, and while I could have typed up feedback that it wasn’t the best stance to give instructions (seriously - I had to give feedback on stuff as little as that; you’re supposed to stand straight and still and confidently to project instructions), I cut her some slack given what I presumed was a need to pee. It was also the last period, so she had probably held it since the morning on this day. After she gave instructions, she circulated the room, as a teacher should, bending down to talk to students who were confused or checked out. I saw her wince every time she bent down. Frankly, she was doing an admirable job hiding her desperation. If I wasn’t so keen on it, I don’t think I would have noticed and even then I didn’t realize she was actually so close to an accident. As they transitioned to the final full class discussion, she stood behind a podium she had and gripped the sides tightly. Her legs were crossed as she stood, though her face projected calm as she called out students to share their thoughts. I scribbled down some notes, but I was mostly entranced by her desperation. She had probably ten minutes left in the day. I definitely thought she could hold it, since her still pose made me think an accident wasn’t imminent, but as students were talking, I saw a glimmer out of the corner of my eye. I looked down and saw streaks running down her legs. She remained motionless and continued to call on students to talk. Fortunately for her, the din of the classroom discussion covered up the sound of her peeing. Droplets combined to become a growing puddle, but as it reached about a foot wide, still mostly hidden by the podium, her stream died down. Her black dress might have been wet, but it showed no sign as she transitioned the students to the final assignment, a quiz on the day’s activities. After she was finished giving instructions, she walked over to her desk and pretended to look busy, though I saw her brushing her hands on her dress, probably trying to gauge how wet she was. I was extremely impressed at her composure throughout her accident - she never showed weakness in commanding the class and hid her accident from the student. I guess luck in what she chose to wear played just as big a part. I was also glad I was sitting with a laptop on my lap, covering up how excited her accident made me. When the bell rang, the students departed without ever noticing the puddle, since it wasn’t on the path between the seats and the door. I calmed myself down and got up to walk over to Ms. Thompson. I pretended to notice nothing as I checked in with her and told her my feedback was emailed to her. Usually I’d talk for about ten to fifteen minutes about feedback, but I assume she wanted to be left alone. Her ears were bright red but otherwise she acted like nothing was amiss and stayed seated in her desk. Up close, I could see just a hint of a darker patch on the front of her black dress, but I mentioned nothing and wished her well and left. The second teacher I observed having an accident was less than a month later. I guess it was a bad month for teachers. Her name was Ms. Brady. She was wearing a white blouse and high waisted loose pants that had frills on the top that were black with light grey stripes. They were classic teacher pants as well, given that they were the combination of comfortable and not too revealing. It was evident that Ms. Brady was desperate from the get-go of her last period of the day. She kept crossing her legs as she took attendance. Aside from general desperation, though, I didn’t realize anything was amiss until halfway through class. She had grabbed a packet by me to pass out to the class and as she walked by, I saw a damp patch the size of a fist on her crotch. It was subtle, but you could tell if you looked closely at the grey stripes. The black, however, showed nothing and I doubted any student would notice. I couldn’t believe she had let out what must have been at least a couple spurts while continuing on like it was nothing. Teachers were a tough bunch, overall. After she had given the packets to someone and told the student to pass it down, she stood in front of me and gave instructions to read and annotate the first article. I had a clear view of her butt. She was the cross country coach, so she was skinny and had a toned butt, though her loose pants didn’t reveal too much. I couldn’t, for instance, see a panty line but I did see a glistening as she must have let out a little bit more and wetness grow underneath her butt and to her thighs. She cut it off and went back to her chair at her desk as the students worked independently. Behind her desk, only I could see her lower half and I saw her subtly put her hand in her crotch and cross her legs tightly. After a minute or so, she got up to check in on students who had questions. I admired that she still took her job seriously, despite the potential of being caught by being so close to students. Her students were focused on the task, though, and I think she got away with it. She squatted by a student particularly close to me and I could see right at her crotch. As she talked the student through the problem, I could see her pants glisten with wetness as she must have peed a little more. Not enough to really run down to her butt or drip on the floor, but I saw it. This pattern continued. She directed students to a follow-up instruction and I thought I saw a glistening along her inner thighs as she gave instructions. As she circulated again while they worked in small groups, I thought I saw yet another burst of wetness on her front. The students’ engagement with their work and the pants’ design and the spurts in which her wetting occurred kept anyone but me from noticing. That being said, by the time she was telling students to do the final activity in the last five minutes of class, I could tell the wetness had reached all the way down to her shoes. She had essentially fully wet herself, but had done it over the course of fifty minutes, which prevented any obvious puddles or clear stains on her pants. After she dismissed her students, we met and discussed how class went without her ever letting on she had an accident. If I thought Ms. Thompson didn’t show her hand, Ms. Brady was like reading a wall. Maybe accidents happened more than I realized and I just never noticed because of their bravado. Towards the beginning of the next year, I observed a Dominican teacher named Ms. Batista. She was what the teens would call “thick” and I knew dealing with inappropriate comments from students would be a problem for her, especially since at the beginning of the year her button ups and her work pants had a tendency of hugging every curve. She handled it like a champ, though, and her choice of outfit got subtly more conservative as she adjusted to working with high schoolers, but the day I saw her having an accident was earlier in the year. So, on that day, she was wearing a white button up that accentuated her hips and her breasts (I mean, I can’t say I didn’t check her out too, in addition to the students!) and tight black work pants that showed off her sizable butt (and I could see the outline of a thong). I was observing her during her first period class. She had rushed in and seemed somewhat frazzled, her tightly curly hair in a slightly messy ponytail. As she hurriedly passed out the materials and gave her students instructions to begin the day, she occasionally stopped to cross her legs and fidget. She must have woken late and didn’t have enough time to go that morning. A few minutes later she had moved the students into a group discussion amongst themselves. It seemed a little forced, like it wasn’t originally in the lesson plan, but that’s when I realized she was walking over to her desk. She gave me an eye, like to not comment on what was about to happen. She stood at her desk and just let loose. I could see a shiny wetness on her black pants as she peed and a puddle grew on the floor. Her desk was a solid, hefty one and blocked the view, not that students were looking back at her. She peed for almost a minute, it seemed. When she was done and she shook off droplets off her legs, she stepped from behind her desk and looked down. The black pants really didn’t show much of anything. I couldn’t believe she had wet herself that brazenly, but she went on with her class. No one noticed a thing and her class went on without a hitch, though when she walked by me I thought I could smell just a whiff of urine. A year later, I was observing a new teacher named Ms. Cruz. A skinny Latina lady, she had worn a yellow dress a little more form fitting than Ms. Thompson from before. I could see the faint outline of full cut panties as it hugged her butt. It wasn’t so revealing as to be inappropriate for a teacher, though I thought perversely she would definitely end up being some high schooler’s teacher crush. I noticed her desperation a few minutes into class when she was explaining the topic they were covering today and she stood in front of the class with her legs tightly crossed. A few minutes later, when the students were working on an activity in small groups, she stood in the back to observe. She kept stepping forwards and backwards, fidgeting her feet as she stood. At one point, she bent over just a little bit with her legs crossed and held that position for a few seconds before straightening back up. Her face flushed red and I wondered if she peed a little. She saw a raised hand and walked over to student’s desk. Facing away from me, I saw her bend over to be at eye level with the seated students and cross her legs as she stood, a very awkward looking stance. She seemed to answer the student’s questions without incident, though, and walked away a little stiffly. Class went on without incident until about fifteen minutes later. Her desk was at the front of the class and I was seated by it. While students were working in groups, she rushed over to the teacher’s desk and sat next to me. She pretended to look up something on her computer, but sitting next to her, I could tell all she did was pull up her emails. She then lifted her dress above her panties, which I saw were white. I was beside her, so I didn’t have a straight angle at her and plus didn’t want to be seen checking her out so I kept my eyes on my own computer, but I could just hear the hissing of her wetting herself over the din of the class. They likely heard and saw nothing, but I could hear it go on and on and eventually drip onto the floor. When she was finished, she lifted her butt off her seat just a little bit and pulled down her dress. She looked at me and knew instantly that I knew what had happened. She whispered to me, “Hey, is there a wet spot?” I looked at her from the front and shook my head but asked her to turn around. From behind, her dress was getting wet, likely since the back of her panties were wet from sitting. I whispered, “It’s wet behind.” She groaned and then just chose to sit back down in her desk. She grabbed students’ attention. “Alright, all that is left is the conclusion at the back of the packet, please work on that for the last ten minutes of class and when you’re done you can turn it in in the basket at the front table. I’ll dismiss you when class is out.” She spent the rest of class sitting in her own puddle, pretending to be working on her computer. Fortunately for her, no students had any questions to get her attention, and the last ten minutes went by without a hitch. When the bell rang, she dismissed the students from her desk and eventually the room was empty of everyone but us. She swung her chair around and as she faced me I saw a glimpse of her white panties, the crotch wet and stained. She looked down mournfully. “I’m sorry, this is embarrassing.” At this point, this was the third accident I had witnessed and I was also personally thrilled, so I wanted to comfort her. “Please. It’s okay. I’m glad no one found out. In fact, I can help you clean this up if you’d like.” She shook her head. “Please, no. Just don’t mention this to anyone.” “Of course. Your secret is safe with me.” She looked visibly relieved and got up to hug me. I didn’t mention I noticed some droplets falling off her dress onto the ground when she did so. She gave me a quick peck on the cheek, as well, which I chalked up to cultural differences, but a little bit of me wished I made a move in one of the future times I observed her, or after I was done evaluating her teaching. I never did in that instance, though, and we both never mentioned that incident again. The next teacher I observed having an accident was Ms. Danvers. She was a short brunette with straight hair and a soft heart. I liked her a lot and students did, too, though I think a class with a lot of behavioral issues would run right over her. I also liked Ms. Danvers because she occasionally flirted with me, honestly. I had observed her multiple times before this particular incident. She would comment that I looked too handsome to have been promoted to administration but also said it’s a good thing I wasn’t a teacher anymore because the girl students would have crushes on me. I was kind of surprised she said those kinds of things, but I certainly didn’t complain. I usually just awkwardly smiled back, though I would occasionally compliment her outfits. The day she had an accident she was wearing a patterned blue and white jumpsuit with a cardigan that was long enough to cover her butt. It was conservative but I thought she looked cute in it. When she entered the class and saw me before class started, she gave me a hello and a wink. Ms. Danvers wasn’t obvious about her desperation while talking to students, but whenever they were doing independent or group work, she sat at her desk and crossed her legs and shoved her hands in her crotch. I was sitting in the back, so I could see her holding her crotch, but the students couldn’t. I should have given feedback that she shouldn’t just sit there and she should circulate among the students, but given the circumstances I let it slide. Despite her obvious desperation at her desk, the class went without incident until the “exit ticket” (the end of the class quiz to make sure the students learned something that day). She stood in front of the class and gave instructions. As she did, her knees buckled slightly and she stuttered her instructions. She got through them without students questioning her, though, and quickly walked up to me. She whispered to me, “Oh my god, I think I just peed a little.” I couldn’t believe she was so open with me. I looked down and saw a small spot the width of a dollar bill. “Yeah, but I don’t think anyone will notice. Class is over in five minutes, you got this.” I paused for a second but remembered regretting never making a move with Ms. Cruz. I added, “Plus, you look cute when you’re desperate.” I almost regretted saying that immediately. Fortunately, she seemed to brighten up and went back to circulating the classroom. When class was over and she dismissed them, she walked back to me. When the room was empty and it was just us, she crossed her legs and buckled her knees. “Oh my god, I’m about to wet myself.” I no longer knew how much of this was truth and how much of it was her flirting with me, given my last comment. “You made it, though.” “Well, almost. I gotta hear your feedback first.” Hmm… Definitely flirting with me. I told her to sit next to me. As I talked through my notes and advice, she kept crossing and uncrossing her legs and thrusted her hands into her crotch, leaning over. I couldn’t help but feel myself get excited as I tried to remain professional. I was almost done walking through my notes when she interrupted me. “Please. Can you walk me to the bathroom as you wrap up your comments? I don’t know if I’ll make it.” “Uhh…” I realized a certain something would be obvious if I stood up. She looked me in the eyes. “Please?” She took off her cardigan and then stood up and held out her hand. I took it and she pulled me up, wincing as she likely peed a little bit more. She noticed the obvious bulge and raised an eyebrow before leading me out the classroom. She peeked out and saw it was clear. From behind, I could see visible wet spot as well. She gestured for me to follow her and said, “Alright, what else were you going to say?” “I was pretty much done, I was just going to summarize by saying you present yourself as relatable and approachable for the students, which is great, though if you had a tougher classroom to manage you should think about what your procedures are with more disruptive students.” She nodded before gasping and grabbing her crotch. She turned to me - we both looked flustered. She grinned at my reddening face and said, “I have to come up with procedures for this disruptive adult that visits my classroom every month. He says he’s here to give me feedback but it seems he’s always just looking at my butt…” I was mortified that I had been so unprofessional all year, but she certainly didn’t seem to mind and she flung open the bathroom door and pulled me in. She led me into a closed off stall usually reserved for people with wheelchairs and locked the door before kissing me. “What do you think of my procedures now?” I returned the kiss. “I think they’re quite effective…” She gasped again and pulled back. “I just peed a little again… Help me take this off.” I saw the wetness had traveled halfway down her thighs and was very visible in the front. When she turned around the wet spot was similarly large beneath her butt. I unzipped her jumpsuit and she began to wriggle out of it. As she pulled it down with some struggle, I could hear a hissing start and the moment the jumpsuit cleared her butt she sat down, light blue boyshorts still on, and she peed straight through her panties into the toilet bowl. I was hard as a rock at the sight, and she could tell. She unzipped my pants and pulled it down and began stroking me. There were all sorts of ethical questions running through my head, but I was lonely and too astonished at my luck to dwell on them. When she was done peeing, I pulled her off the toilet, sat myself down, and sat her down on my lap and began to finger her. When she was ready, I pulled her panties to the side and we fucked right there on the toilet. I fingered her as we fucked, more to try to make sure she came as fast as possible because there was no way I would last. After just a couple minutes, she came hard, and I felt more spurts come out of her and run down me before I came as well. We sat there for a while, panting, before she pulled off me and readjusted her underwear, which were soaked in the front and back. She pulled up her jumpsuit, which were still obviously wet. I zipped her up. We snuck back to her classroom and she tied her cardigan around her waist. We didn’t mention that day again for a while, but after the school year was done and there wasn’t a conflict of interest (that day aside…), we dated for a year until she got a job at a different school district far away. A few weeks later, I observed Ms. Okafor. She was a tall Nigerian woman and curvaceous and skinny at the same time. She really fit the modern beauty standards, wearing a black dress much tighter than Ms. Thompson. I thought it was just a tad too revealing, as I could see a clear outline of her underwear (full cut panties) and a small bit of cleavage, but it wasn’t to the point of making a comment in my feedback. Frankly, it probably would look looser on Ms. Cruz or Danvers, Okafor’s body just really filled it out. I couldn’t help but check her out. Ms. Okafor’s desperation was a bit different. I didn’t really notice anything except that she was stiff until she was standing in front of me giving instructions halfway through class. I couldn’t help but look at her butt a couple times and the tightness of her dress gave away that her butt was tightly clenched. In fact, during the next activity, she stood in front of me yet again to give instructions and I thought I heard underneath her voice the sound of a low whistle before smelling a clear fart. She walked away quickly. She went through class without incident until she brought the students back from their activity for a full group discussion. I stood by the front door so she faced the students but her back was to me. As she stood and engaged with student answers, I thought I saw her butt unclench just slightly. It was subtle, but I thought I saw the fabric of the dress right where her legs met under her butt stretch just a little bit. She kept engaging in conversation as if nothing was happening, but I could also see a small stream roll down her right leg and a couple droplets form on the ground. She quickly wrapped up the conversation and directed students to do the exit ticket. She clearly hadn’t let out much pee, as aside from the momentary stream and a couple of droplets, I saw no more evidence of her accident. She walked to her desk, which was also at the front of the classroom facing the students, and leaned over her materials, probably pretending to be busy. When she walked towards her desk and as she bent over, from my angle across the room by the entrance I could see more hints of the bulge, though I did not smell anything and there was no stain. When five minutes were up, she dismissed the students and stayed at her desk, saying goodbye from that position. After they had all exited, I walked up to her at her desk. Standing in front of her, I could faintly smell poop, but it wasn’t overpowering. “Hey, good job running class today. I have my feedback written up, want to talk through today or want me to email and we can talk more after the next shadowing?” She feigned tiredness. “It’s been a long week, could we do the full meeting next time? I appreciate the feedback.” “No problem, I’ll shoot you a follow-up email.” With that, I departed, and I pretended I noticed nothing throughout the rest of the year. That wasn’t the only messing accident I witnessed. A year later, after Ms. Danvers and I broke up, I observed Ms. Hansen. She was a brunette with a pretty face and a surprisingly large butt. She was a fiercely strict teacher but by the end of the year earned the respect of her students. Her demeanor made her accident so surprising to me. It was first period and she had entered the classroom in a surprising rush, since she was usually so prepared (which is tough for a first year teacher). She was wearing a white top with the shoulders exposed, seemingly the fashion of recent years, and a blue skirt that was rather modest but still showed off her butt. Her hair was in a quick ponytail and I surmised she must have been in a hurry this morning. The situation reminded me of Ms. Batista. I could tell Ms. Hansen was desperate because she occasionally hunched over and her face showed a level of pain sometimes. That being said, she kept on a brave face as she instructed the class. Like Ms. Batista, she then directed them to get to work, though as a math class they worked independently rather than in a group. After standing awkwardly, seeming undecided on what to do, Ms. Hansen walked over to the corner I was in. Her classroom was a tight fit and filled to the max, so my corner was the furthest she could be from students. She stood beside me, pretending to watch the class, but I soon heard it - the telltale sound of crackling as she pooped. I eyed her butt and I thought I could get the faintest hint of a bulge pushing back her skirt, but with the flexible fabric and outfit choice, it really wasn’t noticeable aside from the quiet sounds. She stood still as a statue while this happened. I could start to get a whiff of it towards the end, but she quickly walked away like nothing was wrong (maybe a little bow-legged) and carried on the lesson. I couldn’t believe she had gotten away with THAT and could carry on a lesson, but you really wouldn’t have noticed except the faintest scent when she came close. After class was finished, she had a prep period after so didn’t have to go teach another class. When the room was empty of students, I asked, “Great job today. Do you want to talk through my feedback or have me just email you?” She said, “Umm… email me. I gotta… well… clean up.” I raised an eyebrow. I decided to be blunt to see what would happen. “You mean from when you… pooped standing next to me?” She blushed and froze for a second before deciding to be blunt as well. “Yeah.” She looked around and closed the door to her classroom. “I… Umm… I’ve had issues with making it some days, I don’t have a prep break some days so I…” She trailed off and pulled up her skirt to show her point she pulled up her skirt to show a diaper, to my shock. They were clearly yellowed in the front, so she must have peed them as well. “I didn’t have time this morning to go, so I was pretty certain I couldn’t hold it, I always have to go in the morning, so I just put this on today.” After a moment’s shock, I said, “Wow, thanks for being willing to tell me. That’s actually brilliant, I’m surprised more teachers don’t do that. Well, maybe they do and I just didn’t know. So many teachers have schedules that don’t give them breaks.” She looked relieved that I wasn’t judgmental. She pulled out a second pair out of her bag, gave me a wink, and then put them back in her bag to take to the bathroom to change. I wished I could change her, but I didn’t want to come across like a creep and just gave her a smile and headed out. That same year, I observed Ms. Beverly. Ms. Beverly was an excellent first year teacher and developed good connections with the students and she was the first teacher I witnessed (and only, I believe!) having an accident in front of students and getting caught. That was probably because Beverly, a curvaceous blonde, was wearing white work pants. White was a risky color - I could practically see the white thong underneath under the harsh fluorescent school lights. She probably didn’t know it was visible when she dressed. I could see her tap her foot incessantly throughout class and pretty obviously clench her butt (though the students usually didn’t have a view of her from behind) throughout, but I thought given how obvious an accident would be in white pants she would swallow her pride and ask me to sub for her if she really needed to go. I couldn’t have been more wrong. She made it until she was giving instructions for the end of class quiz. As she stood in front of the class, I could see in real time her bowels give up, her cheeks unclench, and a turd slowly push aside her thong and begin to push her white slacks back, staining them brown. A bulge formed as the poop curled up along the left thigh, not held in by the thong at all. Her voice sounded strained and she stuttered a bit, but she bravely tried to finish her instructions. Unfortunately, as she pooped, she seemed to involuntarily pee a bit (I could see wetness spread beneath her cheeks and start running down her thighs) and I heard gasps from students as they must have seen a wet spot begin to form and spread. She finished her instructions a couple seconds later but no one was paying attention. One student shouted, “Ms. Beverly, did you piss yourself?!” Students in unison began jeering and chattering, not directly making fun of her but clearly in shock at what they witnessed. Ms. Beverly began backing away, trying and failing to tell students to get to work. She clearly didn’t want to show her behind to the students. As she went past me, I could see she was almost in tears. I stood up and walked up to her. “I’ll take over, don’t worry.” She nodded and I got the students back at attention. “You heard her instructions, you have ten minutes left, get to work!” With some individual redirections, everyone eventually quieted down and got to work. I didn’t see Ms. Beverly again, and last I heard she had quit and became a paraprofessional at a different school with the hopes of building her confidence again to go back into teaching. I sent her an email wishing her well and extolling the virtues of her as a teacher, which she understandably never responded to.
  6. 14 points
    The other day I ended up having two accidents, one super early in the morning and one later in the day. The morning one involves messing, so I'll mark that portion of my story off for those who are uninterested. MESSING STORY STARTS HERE Work has become significantly more busy. So much so, some of my coworkers and I have taken turns being on-call 24/7 to field support calls. Typically these calls have been very light: less than 30 minutes on a call between 1 and 4 AM to solve some minor problem, but sometimes these calls can go on for more than a couple of hours and unfortunately, it was my turn to take one of those calls. A report about a client experiencing a critical error came in around 3 AM and I started my computer up to diagnose. It takes a while to access my work terminal from home, so I brewed up some coffee while I waited. My bladder made itself known of a minor need and my bowels also sounded off, as well, but I figured I could probably diagnose the issue quickly. I was also in the middle of having a sex dream when I was woken up, so I wanted to enjoy the need for a little while before going. Fortunately enough, I could pinpoint that our systems were completely operational and that the issue was the clients. I let our support know and I was getting ready to sign off when they called back, saying our client wanted to get on a conference call and I could smell the this lasting a couple of hours. I called in and let the client know everything checked out and they wanted help diagnosing things on their end. Essentially, it was a bunch of people on the client's end talking to one another with an occasional question my way that took some trivial work to answer. Since I wasn't busy at all, I couldn't ignore or distract myself from my desperation and my need was mounting. I had been sipping my coffee and gone through the whole cup which certainty wasn't making things any easier. I squeezed my thighs together and jiggled my legs while clenching my butthole to fight back the need, minutes ticking by insufferably slow. I chimed in every now and again to report everything was still green on my end and I started checking over things to take my mind off of things and just to keep confirming everything was okay on our end. My bladder suddenly cried for help and I shot my hands down to hold myself. I rocked back and forward a bit, but stopped when I realized the rocking against my hand was stimulating my clit. I muted the call so they wouldn't hear anything on my end and grit my teeth fighting back. I started fidgeting with with some pens and papers to try and distract myself until I accidentally dropped one. I bent over to pick it up, but a shot of pee shot into my still soaked panties and I shot back straight in my chair. I knew I was losing this war, but the client had mentioned they're testing out a solution so the call was surely almost done. I decided I should turn on the news or something to distract me and tried to reach the TV remove on m desk without leaving my chair. I misjudged the distance and up falling right out of my chair straight onto the floor. Needless to say, the shock was more than enough and my poor bladder and bowels let loose. The relief was overwhelming as I flooded my panties and filled them with a huge load. I must have been on the floor for a straight two minutes until I was all done and emptied out and when I stood up, they sagged a great deal, but it was all contained. I decided to sit back at my desk in my soaked in messy panties as punishment since the call would end soon and thankfully it did. I went straight to clean up after, thoroughly relieved the problem was completely solved. MESSING STORY ENDS HERE The rest of my day went pretty uneventful, when I finally got back to work. I briefed my supervisor on the client issue I was called about and the day went on like normal until the late evening where I met with my friends to go drinking. The bars we like to visit are a quick train ride from me, about 15 minutes, so I took the train to meet and we picked one of the many bars to visit. After a pretty good deal of shots as we talked about our days, I was feeling a pretty strong need to go, but again, I don't mind the desperation so I put it off. Eventually a few of my friends decided to head to the bathroom and I decided to go with them. It only accepts one at a time and there was no wait, so my friend walked in first and immediately walked out. It was absolutely disgusting and she refused to use it. My other friend and I took a look at it as we all agreed, we'd all rather hold it than go. When we got back to the table, we let the rest of the group know the bathrooms were out of the question. We stopped drinking since we all got pretty tipsy and really didn't want to pay the place anymore money for not maintaining their restroom, but we continued to talk for a good while. Being up early, I was starting to feel pretty tired and look up the train schedule and saw there would be one in about 10 minutes, so I let my friends I was about ready to head home. A few of them decided they'd walk me to the train station before they would head to a new bar. When I stood up, I had realized I had greatly misjudged my situation and actually leaked straight away. I could feel my thong failed to hold almost any of it and I couldn't see if it made a noticeable spot on my legs in the bar lighting, so I just kept my bag in front of me to hide it. I tried to keep myself composed as we walked to the train station, but my friends were also visibly needing to go. I was relieved to finally get to the station so I could lean against something while I struggled to hold on, gravity certainty wreaking havoc on my full bladder. We all casually talked about how bad we all needed to go. My friends decided they'd go at the next bar as I told them I'd probably just go once I got home. They were all opening holding themselves and fidgeting, so I felt no shame doing so as well. I couldn't help to eye them all since I didn't see much desperation in person, contemplating that if we all had accidents, it wouldn't be so bad. I toyed with the idea of letting go on purpose to see if the rest would end up losing control as well. I was getting so wet thinking about it and lost myself in my tipsy stupor fantasizing about it before the train rolling into the station brought me back to reality. I said good bye to my friends and shuffled onto the train as I heard one of them behind me saying they'd just use the bathroom at the station and many sounded in agreement. I made my way to the back of the train, conveniently by the restrooms. They were never clean, especially this time at night, so I didn't even try it. And by now, I was challenging myself to make it home. I sat cross legged as a gentleman walked past me to use the restroom. My thoughts wandered to him using the restroom and my bladder would have none of it as I let through another leak in my seat, and a long one. It ran under my butt and thoroughly soaked my leggings and my cheeks and I was sure there was no hiding my accident now. I also decided to take a peak at my crotch to see if anything was visible, and there was now a pretty good wet patch, but probably nothing compare to my butt now. The gentleman left and woman who had just gotten on walked in, just to walk back out at the sight of it. She didn't show any signs of desperation and I wondered how long she would have to wait before she could find relief. Unfortunately, the train hit an unexpected bump that startled me and I lost control again. This time. nothing was absorbing my piss and it pooled under me in the plastic seat. My face flushed red at the thought of wetting myself on the train, turning me on so much more. My clit was starting to want attention and I started to grind against myself for some relief. I let a soft moan out under my breath as I leaked again and froze. The pool was growing and there was definitely no way I was hiding this now. Finally, my stop came and I leaked again when I stood, the warmth trickling down my legs. I tried to compose myself, but the pressure was too great and I just rushed off the train. Thankfully, no one was around so I squeezed my legs super hard and clenched with all I had before I started walking back to my place. Despite all that effort, just after a few steps, I started leaking again, almost every few steps until it became a steady stream. I was about a block away until I completely lost it and gave way, leaning up against a street sign as I thoroughly soaked my leggings as a puddle formed under my feet. I looked around and couldn't see anyone on the streets and breathed a sigh of relief. I speed walked my way back to my place, rushed through the door, and into the bathroom where I looked at myself in the mirror. I could barely find any dry pieces of legging as a stripped them off, as the tiny bit of fabric that was my thong never stood a chance. I took a nice warm shower before I head to bed and pleasured myself to an amazing orgasm.
  7. 14 points
    Laundry day..... Been a while since I shared anything! Ugh....of course the vids too big.....
  8. 12 points
    Guess the line was too long to wait?
  9. 11 points
    Warning nudity: Desperate girl tries to open the bathroom door, but it's stuck again. She tries to hold it and get the door to open, but it wont budge. After she looses control, she shows her wet jeans and panties and pulls them down and pees a bit more with her panties and jeans at her knees. Quality isn't the best, but the video is still pretty enjoyable. Enjoy! -Skyroz [clips4sale.com]418outpee.wmv.mp4
  10. 10 points
    Alisha intentionally pees herself, which makes her horny, so she masturbates in her sopping wet panties in this kinky video. We find Alisha in her living room wearing a t-shirt and short denim shorts at the start of this scene. Talking directly to the camera, Alisha shares how much she loves peeing her pants. She invites us to watch as she wets herself, her shorts growing visibly dark with wetness as streams run down her legs to the floor. Once she is done peeing, she shows off her wet shorts and panties to the camera. The sensation of her warm and wet underwear serves to arouse Alisha. Unashamed, she proceeds to masturbate as we watch. Leaving her wet panties on, she slides one hand into her underwear and starts rubbing herself while her other hand clenches the wet fabric. She soon climaxes, then says goodbye, saying she is going to go clean up.
  11. 10 points
    Some pics for you guys Can you see the bulge?
  12. 9 points
    I was kind of surprised to see this one on YT, it's been there close to a year according to the upload date. Nice panty load!
  13. 8 points
    Hi, I just found some pictures of a accident I had earlier this year which I never got around to upload. I don't remember anything specific about this wetting, but I think it's some good pictures that I hope you will enjoy!
  14. 8 points
    https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph58a04d319ba7d
  15. 8 points
  16. 7 points
    I wake up with a jolt to discover two things: I need to pee, urgently, and the car isn’t moving. Behind and in front of us and all around us are cars at a standstill. My bladder is on fire—I must have slept through that rest stop where I was planning to pee. I cross my legs and try to put my mind off of it. Can you really blame me for falling asleep? We’d been at a concert the day before, all of us in a state of chemical, euphoric haze, and barely slept. My throat was parched when I woke up and I’d downed a “repair beer” and a bottle of water. Now, I’m far too sober and all too aware. I kind of wish I’d been drunk and skunked out of my mind, then I might have just let go and not even noticed. “Hey Alex, w-why aren’t we moving?” I ask. My voice breaks and I hate it. I’m in the back seat alone. She’s in front with my other mate Mark. “Don’t know, munchkin,” she says, all sweet. It’s an affectionate nickname and normally I enjoy it, but for some reason it grinds my gears today. I grit my teeth, bite my cheek to take some of the sting out my bladder. “But we’ve been barely moving for the past hour. You were lights out so we just let you sleep.” I shift uncomfortably. I can feel my bladder digging into the waistband of my jeans. They were not ripped when I bought them, but sometime last night, they must have snagged on something, or maybe I just fell down. There’s a hole where the knee was supposed to be and dirt around my ankles. I’m twenty-eight and getting too old for this shit. “Why, something the matter?” Mark asks from the front seat. “I kind of have to pee,” I say meekly. “Scratch that, not kind of. I really, really need to piss quite badly.” “Aw,” Alex says. “We both peed at the rest stop but we just let you sleep through it. Sorry.” “I told you not to have that huge bottle of water,” Mark says. “Oh, fuck off,” I say. The situation is absurd. I give a weak chuckle. It’s one of those if you don’t laugh, you’ll cry situations. I give up on modesty and grip myself between the legs. Better that than piss my pants. Suddenly, the car moves forward. It’s all of five seconds before we’re at a standstill again, but it’s enough. I lean forward involuntarily as the car moves, and when it stops I slam back in my seat. As my butt hits the seat I feel a warmth between my legs. I grip furiously and manage to stem the flow, but my panties definitely feel wet. “It’s started,” I say weakly. “No, we just moved up one spot. Doesn’t look like we’re getting out of this anytime soon,” Alex says. “No, I mean I started… My bladder, I… I just peed myself a little.” “Please don’t pee in my seats,” Alex says. “I’m trying,” I say, gripping myself tighter and scissoring my legs. It feels like I’m packing a balloon in my abdomen ready to pop. “But I might not have a choice if this doesn’t let up. And it’s kind of your fault for not waking me up!” “Sorry,” Alex says again. She cranes her neck back to look at my sorry state, then shakes her head, seems to make up her mind, unbuckles her seat belt and crawls awkwardly between the front seats to sit with me. “Hey, what are you doing?” Mark calls out from the drivers’ seat. “Moral support,” Alex says. “My sister needs me.” She’s not really my sister, but I appreciate the sentiment. “Besides, it’s more for my own benefit than anything else. Can’t afford to have someone clean the piss stains out of the seats.” Scratch that, she’s definitely my sister, because only a sister would be so cruel. Alex yanks one of my hands out of my lap and squeezes it. It’s a supportive gesture, I suppose, but she seems unaware of the precarious grip I have on my bladder. As I let go of the furious squeeze between my legs, I lose it for a moment, and another trickle leaks out. It seeps slowly through my panties and into my jeans. I blush. I don’t dare look down until Alex says, “Oh my god, she just leaked!” and I see that there’s a small wet spot on my jeans. I struggle on for another quarter of an hour, but it’s really a losing struggle. Every few minutes, I’m wracked by a powerful spasm, and I squeeze, bite my lip, beg the heavens and lean forward, to no avail. A little leaks out, warming the cooling wetness between my legs. If it wasn’t so embarrassing, it would almost be pleasurable. The cool, clammy fabric, starting to get itchy and uncomfortable, suddenly warming up—combine that with the momentary relief and I’m getting flashbacks to last night’s high. Alex is alternatively whispering soothing words and begging me to not piss in her car as if I could just decide not to and just, not. It’s no use: by twenty minutes, there’s a dinner-plate sized wet spot on my pants, extending from my crotch halfway down my thighs towards my knees. My bum is damp and some must have soaked into the seat already. The pain is getting worse. We’re not moving. I’m stuck in my personal hell and, as a little more trickles out, warming my bum and between my legs, I lower my shoulders and reflect: It could be worse. Right? I could be having to deal with this forever, but it’s going to be over soon. Suddenly, I feel a sharp pain in my lower back. It feels like somebody has just stuck a knee in my back and bent me on over it. I can’t handle this. I lean forwards and the pain gets worse, and I make a fateful decision: it’s gone on too long. With tears of pain in my eyes, I push, and I feel the urine rushing out. The pain abates, and I watch in morbid curiosity as some of the pee arcs up from the pressure, straight through my panties and jeans, a little fountain between my legs, puddling in my lap and rushing down—Alex: “Oh my god she’s peeing!”—damn right I’m peeing, bitch! One stream goes between my legs, soaking into the fabric of the seat, another goes down one of my thighs, creeping towards my soaks, which have up until now been blessedly spared of golden water. A third trickles down between my bum cheeks, and I don’t know if it’s just the relief or if there’s a perverted part of me I never knew about, but damn if it doesn’t feel good. I moan as the last of it trickles out, and now my entire lower half from the waistband to the knees, and under the butt, is soaking wet. It squelches in the seat as I move around, squirming like an echo of the previous half-hour’s struggle. The lower half of my shirt is wet. My panties are soaked, my jeans are ruined, the seat is ruined, and I’m free. Free of the pain and the struggle. I’m warm and wet and it’s all over. “It’s okay,” Alex says, trying to inject some warmth into her voice to hide the insincerity. Of course it’s not okay, but bless her for trying. I slump back in my seat and close my eyes. “I’m going back to sleep,” I say. I wake up with a jolt to discover two things: I need to pee, urgently, and the car isn’t moving. A powerful wave of deja vu hits me. I’ve been here before. Have you ever wished you could get a do-over? Go back in time thirty minutes to undo one of the worst mistakes of your life, now wiser and more mature? Perhaps this is one of those situations. Perhaps it was all just a bad dream. But I definitely need to pee, very badly. We’re definitely still stuck in a traffic jam. And what if you went back in time only to discover that there was nothing you could do to avoid your mistake? What if you were just stuck in a loop of error and misfortune, like it was all preordained? Better not to think like that. Be zen. I close my eyes, place my hands in my lap, and try to meditate. Mind over matter. There’s nothing your body will do that your mind doesn’t will to happen. Omomomomomomom… I repeat the mantra to myself like some goddamned Buddhist monk until I feel a wave of relief wash over me. My shoulders slink back, the pressure between my legs abates, my bum gets warm—wait. Shit, I’m peeing! I try to clamp it off, but my body’s gone soft and unresponsive and I can’t snap out of my zen-induced incontinence quite in time. I open my eyes and let out a little cry as I notice that my entire crotch is wet and there’s some pee on the seat. “What’s wrong?” Alex calls out from the front seat. “I really really need to pee and some just came out, that’s what’s wrong!” I yell. Alex takes a look back and her eyes linger on the shameful state of my crotch. “Oh dear,” she says. “I’m sorry, but I can’t...” I begin to say, and then it starts again. It’s like a faucet. It’s just like last time, in the bad dream. I can hold on until I leak enough that my crotch is covered in pee, but no more. It bursts out of my panties and starts soaking into my jeans. This time, it trickles all the way down to my right knee, and I feel warm droplets of urine grace the uncovered skin. It’s the knee with the rip. I close my eyes and try to shut out the confused yelling from Alex in the front. I’ve pissed myself again. I feel myself tearing up and let out a sob or two. This is so monumentally unfair. What cruel god would give me the chance again just to watch me fail twice over? I wake up with a jolt to discover two things. Fuck no. No, no, no. I’m back where I started, again. We’re still stuck, I’m still about to wet my pants like a little girl, and nothing’s changed. My heart is beating faster and faster, my hands are clammy, I leak, my panties are clammy, I’m panicking. This can’t be happening. The universe is malfunctioning. I’m stuck in a nightmare on repeat. I can’t deal. I just can’t. Without even thinking about it, I push, and the urine starts flowing again. I’m almost getting used to the curious warmth emanating from between my legs, nodding at the little squelch when my wet butt slides against the puddle underneath me, slowly soaking into the seat. I block out the confused yells from the front seat, like, check that, that happened again… Let’s just get this over with. I wake up with a jolt. Okay. Deep breath. I’ve seen Groundhog Day and Edge of Tomorrow. I know how this goes. The first couple go-arounds you just keep trying shit and it fails. Then you despair. Then you think rationally about it and find a solution. No time to spare. “I really need to pee and I’m not going to be able to hold it much longer,” I say. “You guys got, like, a bottle or something?” “I don’t know, munchkin, girls don’t really have the machinery to pee successfully into a bottle,” Alex says. “Can’t you just hold it?” “No, I bloody well can’t!” I say, grabbing my crotch to emphasize my plight. “It’s either a bottle or your seat, so if you got one and you know what’s good for you, you better hand it over!” Alex gives me a look of disapproval, but I hear her rummaging around and then she produces a one-liter bottle of ice tea. There’s a little left in the bottom, but she takes a sip to empty it, and she hands it over. I put the bottle on the seat beside me and start unbuttoning my pants, which causes me to leak a little into my panties, but I can deal with wet panties if I can spare the jeans. “Don’t look,” I say, and I know Mark’s too polite to sneak a peek, but I also know Alex can’t help herself. Not that she’s into me like that—we’ve seen each other nude plenty of times and I never got that vibe from her—but she’s an addict of gossip. If something juicy’s about to happen she wants front row seats. Besides, she’s my sister-from-another-mother-and-father. She won’t miss that time I pissed into a bottle on the highway because I just couldn’t hold it. I try to position the bottle correctly, pushing it awkwardly—I feel the cool plastic contact my lower lips in a not particularly pleasant way—and then, once I’m satisfied it’s as well positioned as it’s ever likely to be, I try to let go. It doesn’t start immediately. There are still lingering doubts in my mind about the soundness of this venture. But I’m too desperate for that to matter in the long run. I let go. It’s a disaster. For all of one second, my pee trickles into the bottle, but when it really gets going, it gets going everywhere. It hits the lip of the bottle and starts spraying, onto the floor, onto the seat, onto my jeans and between my legs. I’m too far gone to cut it off—Alex: “Noooo! I told you it wouldn’t work!”—and it keeps coming. By the end, I’ve soaked my panties, my jeans, the seat, the floor, the bottle… It’s on my hands, it’s dripping off the bottle, and maybe two shot-glasses worth of pee is actually sitting in the bottle. It’s faintly yellow. I wasn’t exactly dehydrated. My shirt is wet, my socks are damp, there’s a puddle on the seat and another one on the floor. I wake up. I’m back. Dry, desperate, and out of ideas. “I’m about to piss myself. Any ideas?” I’m way past caring what they think of me. They’ve seen me wet myself four times already, even if they don’t remember it. “Uh,” Mark says. “Oh, munchkin,” Alex says. “Screw it,” I say. “We’re not moving. I’m going to go on the side of the road. I don’t give a shit if someone sees me. It’s better than the alternative.” “I don’t know, munch,” Alex says. “That seems a little… Drastic? And, like, out of the blue? Can’t you just hold it a little bit longer?” “No, I can’t!” I’m frustrated. “Maybe a bottle or something?” “No, Alex, girls can’t pee in bottles. I’d need a funnel or something and I don’t have one. It’d go everywhere.” “Munchkin...” “Screw it,” I say. I unbuckle the seat belt and open the door. Mark and Alex are yelling at me but I don’t care. I jump out of the car and take a moment to appreciate the true gravity of the situation. There are cars standing still as far as I can see in both directions. We’re on an elevated highway and the horizon is all cars and blue sky and exhaust from idling cars. I don’t really have the time or inclination to admire the scenery, though. I squat down and hike down my pants and panties. At least my mom taught me how to piss in the open air. And those squats at the gym must have firmed up my buttocks and thighs, because it doesn’t even hurt. I close my eyes as the pee begins splattering on the ground beneath me. A little bit hits my ankles and shoes, but who cares? It’s still 99% less piss on my pants than any of the previous times. “Excuse me, miss, what are you doing?” A hoarse woman’s voice from behind me. And I was just getting going! Who would be so rude as to… I open my eyes, still squatting, trying to cut it off to a trickle, and see that it’s a woman sat in the white sedan behind us. It’s a civilian car, but she’s wearing a uniform. Shit, it’s a policewoman! I hurry to yank up my panties and pants, still peeing, and I can’t stop a trickle from creeping into my untouched panties, soaking into my jeans, down the inside of my thighs and a little up my butt crack. If I wasn’t so mortified, I’d take a moment to appreciate the novelty of wetting myself standing up. The policewoman, who looks to be around the age of my mother, just sits there, staring at me as I finish my accident. “Public urination is a misdemeanor, young lady,” she says. “Given the, ah, circumstances, I’ll let you off with a warning. But don’t let it repeat itself. Imagine if others saw you and decided to do the same! It’d be anarchy, pissing everywhere!” I’m not that concerned about accidentally unleashing a pee-copalypse. I spare a thought for the other ladies—and probably a few dudes as well—who must be in the same situation as me. Surely I’m not the only one who’s going to have an accident today. RIP. Rest in piss. I stifle a giggle, aware that the policewoman is still watching me. “T-thanks,” I stammer, then slink back into the car, wet and defeated. “Oh, munch, what happened?” Alex says. “Couldn’t get your pants down in time?” “There was a fucking cop in the car behind us,” I say. “I had to pull up my pants and I couldn’t stop in time. She let me off with a warning.” “No way,” Alex says. I wake. Well, peeing in the open isn’t going to work. But I have an idea. While I was outside, I noticed an emergency staircase leading down off the freeway two cars ahead of ours. And I think I saw a gas station on the level below, somewhere in the distance. “I really need to pee and it really can’t wait,” I say. “I’m gonna run off down that staircase and find a gas station, I think I saw one. You two pick me up once you get out of the jam. I’ll call you with directions.” “Uh, can’t you just hold it?” Mark asks. “No, I really can’t, trust me,” I say. I dash out of the car before I can hear any further objections. I’m off at a brisk trot, wary of the policewoman noticing any irregularities. The staircase is where I think it was, and I make my way down. It’s a little dizzying seeing how high up we are, and my heart catches in my throat when I look down, causing a little leak. No matter. I resolve not to look down and make my way down the staircase, switch-backing it to the ground. There is a gas station and a McDonald’s in the distance, but it looks to be quite far off. I walk gingerly, aware of any bumps in the side of the road by the little jolts it sends to my bladder. Ten minutes later and I’m still not there. Another wave of pressure hits me, and I cross my legs, doubled over. So close. It’s right there! I make my way to the gas station. There’s a WC sign on a door outside. I pull at the handle. Locked. Fuck! Another leak. I don’t dare to look but I think my pants are wet now. “Key at the counter,” a sign by the door reads. I hobble inside. “K-key!” I stammer, and my posture leaves little doubt as to the meaning of my cryptic announcement. A gangly teenage boy is behind the counter. He’s got pimples for days, but he’s looking at me with a mixture of concern and lust. I’m wearing a checkered shirt with a pocket over my left breast, which he’s no doubt noticed, judging by the angle of his gaze, and I’ve got my brown hair in a messy bun. I was all dolled up to party last night, but today I look like a wreck and I’m about to piss myself and this is what gets him going? Fucking hormones. I guess I can’t fault him if he can’t help it, but it is his choice whether or not to stare at my bust, which isn’t anything to write home about, especially not in a baggy shirt and no push-up. “I’m sorry,” he says. “It’s out of commission. But, ah, maybe I could let you sneak into the staff restroom.” What a gentleman. It’s too late for me, though. I hunch over as another wave of pressure hits my bladder, and urine starts pouring out. Two rivulets, almost perfectly synchronized, on either side of me, trickling down the insides of my thighs. It’s warm and wet and wonderful, in a way, but also horrifying. I’d almost enjoy the relief if this creep weren’t staring at me. “I’ll, uh, get the mop, so sorry,” he says, blushing. He’s blushing? Well, fuck me. I sit down on a bench outside and call Alex. Tell her where to pick me up and to have a change of clothes ready. “Oh, munch, I’m so sorry,” she says. I wake up. This time, there’s to be no mistakes. “I’m about to pee myself and it really can’t wait. I gotta run, there’s a gas station, I’ll call you to pick me up,” I say, very fast, and I’m out of the car before they can even protest. I run towards the staircase, make a point not to look down, and make my way down. Once I’m down there, I take a look around. A car passes by the road, but it’s a hundred paces away. I walk behind a pillar, squat down and pull down my pants and panties. Nobody around. Not Alex, or Mark, or Mrs. Police Grandma or Gangly Teenage Boner. I sigh in relief as the piss hits the gravel. Good thing about gravel, it doesn’t splatter as much as concrete or asphalt when you pee on it. A minute later, I’m relieved and, for seemingly the first time in forever, completely dry. Not a drop on my clothes. That this feels like a victory ought to concern me, but I’ll damn well savor it. Technically, in this timeline, I haven’t pissed myself once. Once I’ve redressed, I make my way over to the gas station. I give a wink to the boy at the counter and linger long enough to watch him blush, then I take the five-minute walk over to the McDonald’s and order a late lunch. Chicken nuggets and fries never tasted so good. I text Alex the directions and start up a game of Words with Friends on my phone. Get a coffee so the McDonald’s staff don’t kick me out, not that it’s in any way busy here. Just a middle-aged couple and a few local teens. I might have encountered the one time a fast-food joint is actually overstaffed. A full two hours later, I see a familiar car pull in. I’m on my third cup of coffee, but you damn well know I’m visiting the ladies’ room before we leave. Alex rushes in and only sends a nod in my direction before running off to the restrooms. Mark comes in at a more leisurely pace. He goes over to the counter and orders a Big Mac, then comes to sit with me. “A semi fell on its side, somehow,” he says. “We were stuck there for almost four hours total, but finally they got it cleared up.” Alex is in the restroom a worryingly long time. Finally, she comes out, eyes downcast. I look her over and notice… My god. There’s a wet spot the size of a peach on the front of her skirt. “Sprung a leak?” I ask. “Shut up! If I’d known it was going to be this long I’d’ve come with you!” Her lip trembles and I know her well enough to see that she’s about to cry. “Come here,” I say, and pull her into a hug. She buries her face in my back. “It’s okay, accidents happen,” I say. I’d know, although she doesn’t know that I know. And quietly, so Mark won’t hear, I whisper to her, “I won’t let you forget this, sister.” It might be a little bit mean, but I think I earned it with pee, sweat and tears. I use the restroom before we leave and make it home dry. Maybe there is a god after all.
  17. 7 points

    Version 1.0.0

    1,016 downloads

    Female employees at a call center desperate and loosing control during claim processing. DLSL-335 )Scene 1)

    Free

  18. 7 points
    You have to love a woman who enjoys wetting her pants, especially when they prefer to go in their pants over a toilet, as Alisha explains in this video. In this lovely video Alisha shows off her tight jeans to our camera, the whole while pontificating on the topic of wetting herself. She shares with us how inconvenient it can be to have to pee, and how she wishes it were socially acceptable just to wet her pants. After talking about it, she decides there is no good reason not to go ahead and pee in her jeans right now, in front of the camera. As we watch, the camera goes in for a close-up and Alisha pees in her tight jeans. After she is done peeing, she happily shows off her wet pants.
  19. 7 points
    Watch Alisha grow desperate to pee while on an important phone call, ultimately wetting her pants, in this sexy video. We join Alisha in this scene as she is on a phone call. From her actions, it is clear to us that she needs to go to the bathroom; She seems unable to sit still, fidgeting and even holding herself at times. As time goes on, her situation seems to grow evermore dire. Finally, she tries to end the conversation so she can go to the bathroom. Unfortunately for her, whoever she is talking to doesn’t seem to want to let her go. In fact, they intentionally keep her on the line until she wets herself, then make her explain the aftermath of her accident.
  20. 6 points
    Molly stretched, yawning and glancing over at the clock on her bedside table. It read 6:47, and she groaned and rubbed her eyes tiredly. Great, she thought, wriggling in her sheets. Now that I've seen the time, there's no way I'm going back to sleep. It was still dark out, and everything was still and calm in the apartment. Molly felt the chilly air wrap around her bare shoulders and shivered. Well, there's no use in just sitting here. I should get some work done. Quietly as she could, her feet touched the cold ground and a shiver ran down her spine. Eric laid in bed still, probably asleep, and Molly didn't want to wake him. She crept to the bathroom, closed the door, and bit her lip at the fullness of her bladder. I swear I'm always bursting in the morning. It'd do me good to start going before bed. She reached down to pull off her pajama pants but paused, admiring the bulge in the mirror. Eric always likes it when I'm nice and full... Her thoughts suddenly began to race as she imagined the look on his face as he traced her large, round bulge, maybe even pushing on it as she squealed and tried to pull away... Stop it! Molly snapped at herself. Just go pee like a normal human. Despite her annoyance at her own horniness, there was a stickiness in her panties and her skin had grown hot. She pulled down her pants and sat on the toilet, but for some reason, her mind told her not to let go. It feels so good, she hummed, spreading her legs out wide. Her urethra burned and her limbs were on fire. The feeling was maddening, to need to go so bad and yet holding back. Finally, in one swift movement, she stood up, yanked her pants back up, and stuck her hand between her legs. Molly's heart beat wildly, and her hand began to gently rub at her crotch. She heard Eric roll over in the bed and her neediness consumed her, swinging the door open and rushing towards him. Molly whimpered as her pussy throbbed, and began to potty dance next to the bed. "E-Eric?" His eyes fluttered open and he stared at her dimly through the darkness. "What is it?" "I... I..." And then she was on top of him. Eric yelped in surprise as Molly mounted him, kissing him furiously and rubbing her crotch against his body. He kissed her back and suddenly felt the hardness of her bladder on top of him and understood. He slipped a hand down her panties and fingered her lips, sliding through her slick folds. "Mmmmmmm. Since when do you get so horny in the morning?" He whispered. His reply came quickly as a little gasped, followed by a lot of wetness. Molly let go, pee flooding pout of her and over Eric's body. He moaned with pleasure alongside her, feeling the warmth cover him. He kissed her and played with her, running his hands over her body as she peed. His erection grew, and it wasn't long before they were rolling around in the sheets... Thanks for reading! My girlfriend wrote this so she wanted me to post it and share with you guys. Hope you enjoy!
  21. 6 points
    Sosha’s potty training isn’t going well. After having another accident in her training pants, her friend, Alisha, must put her back into diapers in this video. The scene starts with Alisha and Sosha on the bed. Alisha is feeling Sosha’s pull-on style training pants under her jeans to see if they are wet, and they are. Clearly, Sosha has had an accident and needs to be changed. We get to watch as Alisha helps Sosha out of her jeans and wet pull-on. Then, Alisha lovingly wipes Sosha clean, puts on fresh baby powder, and finally puts her in a nice, clean, tabbed, diaper.
  22. 6 points
    Heroic woman I want to share a sighting I witnessed yesterday on a public train. I take the train every day to reach my workplace and get back home. So I can often see some interesting situations and sometimes I can use the unreliable toilets in the train for my own pleasure J . When I was going home yesterday there wasn’t a broken toilet, although there could be one to this time of year. There was just a long que in front of it and a very desperate lady, but one after the other. J The woman was the second person waiting in line, a man was the next in line to use the toilet. I was sitting in the are next tot he toilet where the seats are fixed to the wall. The woman cauhgt my attention as she was bouncing up and down and crossing and uncrossing her legs all the time. She was quite cute, maybe in her thirties, slim, wearing a black jacket and tight light grey jeans. She had a really great figure with long legs but wasn’t really tall. Her hair was light brown and her butt was really great. The jeans were that tight, that I didn’t have to use my imagination very hard. She had to wait for a while and after about 10 minutes the man in front of her knocked at the door. He turned to the woman behind him and smiled. She answered with a painful smile. Shortly thereafter the door was opened from inside and a man came out. The man rushed into the toilet and closed the door. Now I could see, that the woman started sqiurming more intensly and stemmed one hand in her hip. That was accompanied by a painful sigh and face expression. I caught her glimpse and she tried to smile at me which I answered with a smile to. Then the train stopped at the next station and a lot of people were boarding inclusive some children. Right after the train left the station a mother with her little girl came to the toilet. The girl was obviously very desperate and kept saying „Momy, momy, momy…“ and dancing around. The mother answered, that there was another woman in front of them who also wants to use the bathroom, whereupon the little girl started to cry. The desperate lady saw that and I could see her thoughts running 100 miles per hour. She then said: „You can go next.“ „Are you sure?“ The mother asked by inspecting her crossed legs and lightly bend over upper body. „Yes, please go next, I can’t see your daughter crying.“ The mother thanked the desperate woman and told her daughter to thank her too for letting them pass. „Thank you“ the little girl said and both women were smiling. The door opened and mother and daughter entered the toilet. Now the woman started to get really unconfident as I could hear her sighing more often and one hand wandered at her crotch area. She didn’t press her hand in the crotch, just let it hang in front of it and sometimes touched her thigh. Then suddenly something happened, that brought even more inconfidence to the woman’s life. Four more children with their mothers came to the toilet area and one child was even more desperate than the other. By that time the desperate woman started to look frantically and formed her hands to fits, pressing them against her thighs. One of the mothers asked: „Excuse me, could my daughter please use the toilet nex, she has to go for about half an hour.“ The desperate woman bit her lip and said: „Sorry, but I also need to use the toilet and I’m bursting.“ Meanwhile one hand had wandered into her crotch. The mother saw that and said: „Oh… but…“ The desperate lady sighed, crossed her legs and said: „OK, go next but PLEASE hurry up!“ By that time the other mothers and their children had also noticed the urge of the desperate woman and started glancing at her. I heard one oft he children, maybe 10 years old, whispering: „Momy, whats about this woman?“ Her mother answered: „She needs to go to the toilet very urgent.“ „But why doesn’t she go?“ „She seems to be very helpful and let the other woman and her daughter pass so that they can go next.“ The girl then said: „Oh, but she looks like she will pee in her pants.“ Her mother answered with a little smile in her face: „Hopefully not…“ The last two persons in the queu, a girl and her little sister also started talking. The little girl asked: „Christina, whats wrong with this woman?“ Her sister answered, that she is really desperate for the toilet. At that time the toilet opened and the mother with child entered. The desperate woman was now really in urge and started sweating a little. Meanwhile she had pressed both hands into her crotch and was squirming and stepping from foot to foot. The little girl at the end of the queu said: „Christina, look!“ Her sister saw the woman dancing around and said: „Poor woman, I think she is about to wet her pants.“ The other waiting families were talking about the same thing and one of the women said: „Hold on, just a few mor minutes.“ The desperate lady said: „I don’t have a few more minutes.“ Then she suddenly bend over, double crossed her legs and almost started crying. By that time I thought, that she was already reliefing but her pants stayed dry. She raised and walked behind the toilet area. I could still see her but she now was covered from the glimpses of the others. She still had pressed both hands into her crotch, rubbing her thighs together. Then suddenly the little girl from the end oft he row passed the others and headed tot he desperate woman, who was fighting her urge behind the toilet. The girl looked at her and asked: „Are you peeing your pants?“ The desperate woman answered with a painful smile: „I don’t know, I think I’m going to…“ „Oh…“ the girl answered inspecting her intensly. Then her sister came, took her by the hand and said: „Come on, leave her alone, she is about to wet her pants!“ The desperate woman sighed painfully and then quickly walked away, passed the queu and headed towards the rear area of the train. The waiting people were still talking about her and assumed that she maybe didn’t make it. After about 15 minutes i reached my station and left the train. I walked through the train to leave it at the rear area to maybe see the desperate lady. And then, in the rearmost area I saw her sitting in her seat. She was crying and her light grey pants had turned into dark grey in the crotch and inner thigh area. There was still a little bit of pee dribbling from the seat and formed a big puddle underneath. I walked towards her and decided to leave the train at the next stop. I sat next to her and told her not to worry about and that it could happen to anyone when there’s no chance to use a toilet. Meanwhile she had stopped crying and said: „The girl was right…“ I embolded her for „sacrificing“ so that the children could use the toilet. She then smiled a little and looked at her wet pants. Meanwhile she was sitting wide legged and labia were good to see because of the tight textile anyway, which had turned more tight because of the wetness. She then buried her face in her hands and was really embarrassed. We then started to talk a littl bit and she gave me her phone number. We met a few times and had a coffee. Meanwhile she could handle the situation very well and could openly talk about it. She once invited me to her flat, where we had some fun – three times. But now we lost contact, maybe I should call her again some day… Although we didn’t make any omorashi or other wet games, the sexual expierience with her was awesome. I hope you enjoyed my story, maybe there will follow some more… Have a nice day! Jack
  23. 6 points
  24. 5 points

    Version 1.0.0

    695 downloads

    Caireen & Aubrey put on pullups and try on clothes

    Free

  25. 5 points
    Had to stop at a motorway service area tonight. Had heard on the traffic report that there was a 2 hour delay further up because of a major accident which had closed off 2 lanes. as I got out of my car, a man about 25 got out of the back seat of a car which had just pulled up- as he got out he was frantically doing his jeans up- instead of then running towards the building, he ran over to some trees and stood with his back to the car park obviously pissing- I timed him- he stood there for just under 3 minutes!!!! how desperate must he have been????
  26. 5 points
    Car desperation preview.mp4 Leggings: preview (1).mp4
  27. 5 points

    From the album: Dimwitrolo's Misc Work

    Aww! These are my comfy pants too...didn't want to wet these.
  28. 5 points
    So this has probably been asked before, but I want to know for myself. Have you ever had a stuck zipper, or couldn't get your pants unbuttoned to be able to go pee? Today I was wearing I new pair of dress pants to work. They are the ones that have the clasps on the outside, and then a button on the inside too. With being new, some of the fabric is a little stiff still. I had to pee really bad, and had trouble getting the inside button undone. I managed to get my pants off in time, but I danced around the my stall forever before I was able to get free, lol. Tell me your stories, please. Sorry mine isn't that exciting.
  29. 5 points

    Version 1.0.0

    771 downloads

    Ashley stays over and wets Dixie's bed, then gets diapered

    Free

  30. 4 points

    Version 1.0.0

    736 downloads

    As requested in a thread! I hope it isn't a reupload - if it is, then it has no reason to be re-uploaded.

    Free

  31. 4 points

    Version 1.0.0

    58 downloads

    Hey their, wanted to share a video of mine, even gets me goin a bit re-watching it.. re-living that release. A little bit of "dick" at the end, fair warning. Anywhoo... quick back story and what this video is, I had been holding all day and had really weakened my abilities to have control of my bladder. I dampened a couple pairs of pants before this video; Leaking heavily but stopping it before this flood. It caught me by surprise with multi-tasking of taking a video while losing control and wetting myself fully.. I say "oh shit" once I see the puddle spreading out of control on my floor and grab a towel to stop the spread into my home. I barley had time to hit record by the time I was losing it. Hope ya enjoy.

    Free

  32. 4 points
    My best friend has been playing Pokemon Sword & Shield and told me how much this Sonia character reminds her of my Trina. After seeing some of her appearances in the game I think some omorashi artwork of her is needed. Look out...
  33. 4 points
    So here's my first ever attempt at anything like this using my oc Nybble
  34. 4 points

    Version 1.0.0

    373 downloads

    Renata totally pisses her tight ripped blue jeans & white socks

    Free

  35. 4 points
    Nah I prefer to act with kindness, after all these people are obviously having a bad time, and I don't think it's right to involve other people in your fetish and act like an ass towards them to further your own pleasure. It's just wrong. I won't be cruel unless they have previously stated that is what they want.
  36. 4 points
    As far as fetishes go we should probably be happy it isn't something a lot worse.
  37. 4 points
    I've been there, and I'm sure almost everyone on this site has been too. I've fought it for years, but eventually came to accept it as part of who I am. People play video games where you steal cars and murder people. People enjoy movies where people are tortured or brutally killed. Yet they wouldn't do these things in real life. You can enjoy your fantasies all you want, though of course I wouldn't tell anyone you don't really trust. As long as you're not forcing someone to hold or wet themselves without their consent, or taking deliberate pleasure in a real life woman's pee accident (being turned on by it is involuntary so it can be expected however bad you feel for her) or make her more uncomfortable, etc., then it's perfectly harmless. It's gotten to the point where I no longer feel bad about fantasizing about Fluttershy wetting herself, because that's all it is, a fantasy. And of course, anyone deliberately wetting or not minding their accidents or laughing them off is fine too, though IRL you still want to not weird them out, but of course here or in videos they'll usually be expecting people to be aroused by it. (Even people who disliked their accidents sometimes post here wanting people to enjoy them, so something good can come out of it, in which case...) While it's still something you might want to keep to yourself IRL, there's no need to feel ashamed of it. This fetish chose you and that's who you are, and as long as it's harmless fantasizing, etc., there's nothing wrong with that, whatever people without the fetish say. And, the actual sexual stuff is a turn-off to me (unless butt-related stuff counts), my only sexuality is in my fetishes. Finding this site, full of people who shared my fetish, was pretty helpful to me. As a wise animated princess once said, "there is no wrong way to fantasize".
  38. 4 points

    429 downloads

    A few clips from GIGA GRZ videos (holding contests) with bikini and swimsuit wettings

    Free

  39. 3 points
    Sorry it took Asuna so long to reach the battlefield. Nature called first.

    © 毒モモ

  40. 3 points
    I always drink lots of tea and water at work to stay well hydrated so I'd really struggle with only 4 mins to pee during a whole 8 hour shift. Back when I worked in retail I was entitled to a 30 minute lunch break by law if my shift was longer than 6 hours and then I'd sometimes get a shorter 5 minute break later in the day, unless the store was busy. I'd often end up bursting to piss at least once during my shift especially if I didn't get my 5 minutes in the afternoon, so I'd be stuck serving customers while dying to pee with no chance of relief anytime soon. I often worked 5 hour shifts to cover the busy afternoon period and wasn't actually entitled to a break on these shifts, occasionally I'd be allowed a quick 5 minute break towards the end of the shift so I could relieve myself but on busy days I'd have hold my bladder until the store closed. Speaking of working in retail and toilet breaks, I used to work with a woman who hated using the toilets in the store where we worked and would try to last her whole shift without peeing. She was studying dance at college and was very slim and petite, and she would always drink so much water during her shift that after 5 or 6 hours she would be absolutely bursting to go, visibly flustered and fidgeting with her legs crossed while sitting behind the till or pacing around while stood up serving customers. By the end of her shift she would often be really desperate to pee and her bladder would be so full that it would be noticeably bulging and she would have to undo the top button on her tight black work trousers, hidden underneath her jacket. Even in that desperate state she would rather wait until she got home to the comfort of her own toilet.
  41. 3 points
    Two Girls Wetting in a Truck View File Submitter MM68063 Submitted 12/01/2019 Category Public wetting Clothing Jeans  
  42. 3 points

    Version 1.0.0

    387 downloads

    3 Desperation and Wetting Scenes; Japanese Bike Leggings Desperation and Wettings

    Free

  43. 3 points
    I usually try to time my showers for when I have a full bladder. From there, I'll either stand away from the spray and try to pee slowly. Usually a few little spurts and then I practice letting it out in a slow stream to prolong the sensation. It's really nice and tingly to be juuust barely peeing when your bladder is screaming at you to piss a forceful stream. I also like to try to hold through my shower sometimes. It's really challenging to wash with a full bladder. The combination of the water sounds and having to move around to soap up different body parts makes for a fun challenge. I usually spurt more and more until I've lost about half my bladder and then just go. Other fun things I have done: 1. Soap up my legs really well and stand away from the shower spray so when I piss, the pee rinses the soap off. It feels nice in a strange way. 2. Turn the shower on cold and let it spray on my legs until the skin is cold. Then pee. The contrast between my cold skin and the hot pee is really tantalizing! 3. Stand in the shower with just my panties on and the water off. Pee slowly to avoid having people (room mates) overhear my stream and wonder what I'm doing.
  44. 3 points
    Another one in outer worlds is one character on the ship complaining that someone has been in there for hours then she just walks away after looking desperate for a minute the same character has the chance to pass out drunk in her room and a cleaning robot mentions cleaning bodily fluids and i already stated that there wasn’t any vomit so i am just going to assume she wet her bed
  45. 3 points
    not so great to ambush a board with a dick pic
  46. 3 points
    A person here has recently posted his successful coming out story. Personally, I've been pondering over the possibility of coming out to my vanilla BF for a few months (since I'm here), bringing up the topic now and then, and trying to think of a perfect opportunity to do it. Finally, I came to a decision: I won't do it. Not because I actually believe it can ruin our relationship; it's just pointless. Follow my thought: 1. No matter how much I hinted that a full bladder can feel nice, he's adamant: for him it's just a source of discomfort that should be eliminated ASAP. (Maybe it's because he fills up pretty quickly.) So, holding contests, as well as controlling him, are out of question. 2. I could ask him to control me, but it wouldn't be fun for him at all. There's no way I can explain to him that he still can do certain things to me, even if he wouldn't enjoy them in my role. 3. I could tell him just to be able to keep doing what I do, only openly, but, honestly, I've sort of got used to hiding it from him. I don't really mind it. Thus, nothing will change for me, so it's not worth The Talk. Well, these are my thoughts at the moment. Maybe I'll change my mind someday though.
  47. 3 points
    Amazing! Great find! Also good team work boys
  48. 3 points
    Somebody made sweet fanart of that scene: https://circuscarnie.tumblr.com/post/89440110360/does-anyone-remember-kablam-does-anyone-else
  49. 3 points

    Version 1.0.0

    405 downloads

    Hidden Cam Outdoors Pissing Records Vol. 1 Ladies needing to pee are recorded and timed peeing in ally ways When they star peeing a little stop watch appears on screen counting how long they pee Most are between 15 and 30 seconds long some are long like 40 Enjoy

    Free

  50. 3 points
    "Please make a comic about Karai from Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles 2012, the comic would show her desperately jumping from houseroof to houseroof in the hope of finding a bathroom, she ends up barely made it in a public toilet." Soundwave012 I'm... not really sure how I feel about this comic, I don't feel like Karai is a character that belongs in an omo comic, she seems more like one that would fit better in action scenes... but I didn't check what the character looked like until I was about done with the first sketch (I knew she was a ninja before researching her apparence but that's it) so getting myself stuck into drawing a character I feel doesn't fit was pretty much my fault. Also I couldn't find the series she appears in anywhere so I had even less info about her. I hope it is good regardless of all this.
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