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Showing content with the highest reputation on 12/01/2019 in all areas

  1. I've never done this before and shared it but I thought I should. I might do more if it's liked. I have got a video but I can't figure out how to get it on here when I do ill post it 😞
    16 points
  2. I don’t know how I feel about posting this but here it is I figured out how to post it. :) 4F06D786-DD8A-48B1-AD1A-DB2B1F3AD722.mov
    15 points
  3. Version 1.0.0

    3,692 downloads

    3 videos of Suzy wetting herself and then showering with her clothes on.
    Free
    10 points
  4. View File Suzy - 3 wetting and showering videos 3 videos of Suzy wetting herself and then showering with her clothes on. Submitter Reeve Submitted 11/30/2019 Category Peeing
    6 points
  5. Because I felt like drawing more exploding Pokemon, here's Lucario for @Derpysquid! The thought bubble was kinda an experiment, representing the 'full and heavy' feeling more than strictly desperation (since I feel like it's important in that pose)...unsure how well it conveys its intended meaning.
    6 points
  6. "Jesus Dan! What do you eat?" Dan doesn't answer - instead he gives me a wink. "No!" I say recoiling and closing the bathroom door behind me. "I'm not using that - that ain't natural!" "Could use the customer toilet?" Dan suggests. "No you can't" Charlie says, walking in with three plates balanced on her arms. "They're broken." "How did someone break the toilet?" Dan asks her. She shrugs, nearly dropping a plate. "Doesn't matter." I say. "I'm a big girl, I can hold it." "Like you did on Friday?" Charlie asks with a grin. "Charlie, I will put you in the microwave if you mention that ever again." "Why, what happened on Friday?" Dan asks. "Nothing. Nothing happened on Friday, right Charlie?" She smirks at me. Dan gives us both a confused look. "Whatever you say, Amy." Charlie laughs. "You off then?" "Yup!" I smile. "About time too, today's been dragging on." Today has been dragging on, to be fair, but that's not the main reason I want to leave quickly. I really need to pee. Luckily for me, Dan's left the staff toilet a hazard zone and today I've forgot my HAZMAT suit. Customer toilet's down again - I don't know how they do it. Happens at least once a month that the thing packs in, which means letting customers through the kitchen to avoid needing to mop up. But whatever - home's not too far. I can make it. Probably. I take a seat in the staff room and pull out my jeans from my bag. Do I need to get changed though? The trains are pretty hit or miss, and a few minutes could make all the difference. Plus it means pulling my legs up, and being in my state, I'd really prefer not to. Too much pressure. I put my jeans back in my bag. I'll leave my shoes in my locker though, it's too much hassle keeping these at home and I don't want to risk putting up with an angry Angie again. I kick one shoe off, then the other. As I pick them up I hear the door open. "Did you really?" "Did I what?" I ask. Dan smirks at me from the doorway. "On Friday," he clarifies. I blush bright red. "She played it off like a champ though!" Comes Charlie's voice from behind Dan. "She would have carried on serving if I hadn't insisted that Angie give her the day off." "Really?" Dan raises a brow. "Yeah dude - Amy's biggest worry was that she wouldn't get paid for the whole day." "Not that she'd be wandering around in a pissy skirt?" "You realise she's a student, right Dan? She'd serve naked if it meant more pay." "I-I wouldn't," I cut in. I might. Depends on the pay, really. "Well you can thank me for insisting you got full pay." Charlie beams. "I'm sure I'll find a way you can repay me some time." "So what poor sod had to mop it up?" Dan asks. "Angie of course," Charlie grins. "I wasn't gonna touch it - plus she kinda caused it." "Explains why she threw the mop head away - she usually leaves that to me," Dan chuckles. "On the note of extra pay though - could I get one of you two in on Saturday? Brittney can't do Saturday - some family business." "Again?" I ask. "Yeah," he says rolling his eyes. "Can you do it?" "With overtime pay?" "Fiiiiine," Dan says with a silly smile. "If you insist." "I'll be there," I tell him. He gives me finger guns and ducks out. Charlie walks in with her sandwich. "Why did you tell him!?" "He asked," Charlie says, biting her sandwich. "Because you hinted to it!" "Oh come on Amy. It's funny." "You..." I say, trying to come up with something smart and witty. I can't though, so I just point at her. "Afraid he won't like you because he knows you pee?" She says before taking another bite. I blush bright red again. She smiles when she notices. "I think he thought it was cute that you were just gonna carry on." I can feel my face getting redder. I look away and pull my trainers out my bag. "Did you clean those already?" Charlie asks. "I'm gonna throw these at you." "I'd rather you didn't." "Then don't mention this again." "You sure you can make it home?" She giggles. I raise a shoe and she pretends to block. "I'm sure I'll be fine." "Should I get you the mop just in case?" "Oh, Amy!" I let go of the front door and turn to see Dan coming over. I can feel my heart leap a little, but I try to ignore it. "Before you leave, I uh..." he starts. My heart skips a beat. "I have... your share of the tip jar." Oh. "T-thanks," I say, putting my hand out. He smiles. "Plus a little extra for dealing with Angie like that - she ought to take it a bit easier on you after that." "You think so?" "Not at all," he laughs. "But you can use it as a get-out-of-jail free if you ever need it, I'm sure." "Could come in handy." "For sure," he says, grinning. "Anyway! See you tomorrow!" "See you tomorrow, Dan!" I say, pointing a finger gun at him. He gives me one back. Maybe I should have put up with the staff toilet. As I make my way to the station, I can't help but feel that I might be making a dumb choice, and my bladder isn't happy with me. It's almost enough to distract me from the wonderful sight of my train pulling out of the station. Shit. I tap my card on the reader and the gate swings open, letting me through. As I walk up to the platform I can see the train as it heads down the tracks, almost mocking me as it's swallowed by the tunnel. I suppose I could use the station's public toilets...Actually I'd rather wet myself. Last time I went in there it might have given me nightmares. God, the smell. I still wake up at night... Alright it wasn't that bad, but you get my point. I'd rather piss myself. But I won't, I can hold it. Probably. I'm desperate enough that it's pretty tempting to brave the wasteland that is station toilets. I'm not quite that desperate yet, though. How long is this train gonna be, anyway? Five minutes, the sign says - five minutes my arse. It's been five minutes since I got here. Least it feels like it anyway. I adjust my bag over my back and look around. It's not too busy today, which is good, but there's still enough people here that I probably won't be getting a seat. So that's cool. I'm starting to regret that last water at work though... The train finally pulls in with an excuse from the overhead speaker about signal failures or something exciting - doesn't change the fact that I've been stood here for a good ten minutes with an increasingly impatient bladder. I'm trying to subtly press my thighs together and hoping that no one's really watching me. The doors open and people swarm out onto the platform. I can't help but be a bit envious of the train getting to empty out... Did I really just think that? How desperate am I that a train is making me jealous? Regardless, once the people are all off, I try to make my way on. As predicted, all the seats are taken by the time I manage to squeeze on. I get myself into a corner behind a man who smells overpoweringly of curry powder and sweat. I don't have much wriggle room, and as the doors close I start to realise I might end up wriggling a fair bit more than I want to. Problem is I'm sure this man will be able to feel every movement I make, and I'm already rubbing my thighs together. I don't really think it's helping much though - no matter how much I rub my legs together, I still really need to pee. The train lurches forward - and instantly stops, almost throwing me onto the floor. Instead the curry and sweat man catches me in his huge backpack. "S-sorry!" How long is this train gonna take? It's only five stops, but I've only just reached the first. Trains aren't usually this slow, are they? I think I'm just so desperate now that it's slowing down time. Every second hurts. And I can't exactly hold myself on the train without looking like an idiot. I'm embarrassed enough awkwardly shuffling my legs while trying to keep still. Some beardy bloke at the far end of the carriage seems to have noticed me - I'm trying to ignore him and also not blush. It's not easy though, not when I've got a bladder demanding my attention. And it's getting harder to ignore that too - it's the only thing I can think of... Maybe I should read some of the adverts to distract me... or they can all be about drinks. One advert for water, one for juice, and one for some shitty light beer. Which looks like pee. And now I'm back to focusing on my bladder and how much pee is in it. At least the train's pulling out of the station. It's so distracting - the beer advert I mean. It's bad enough trying to ignore the ocean building up inside me, but this advert on the roof is almost mocking me. It looks like pee, it's being poured out, and there's the word 'Relax!' in big yellow letters over the bottle. Relax with a nice bottle of Budweiser. I mean you couldn't really get closer to that pisswater without actually peeing into the bottle. I'd kill for a bottle right now to be perfectly honest. Well, and some privacy too. Not just gonna pee in a bottle on the train while people are looking. But I'd be bloody tempted right now. My poor bladder's so full, and there's an advert with what might as well be pee, telling me to relax. Who designs these ads? When's the next stop anyway? Oh. It's here. Two stops down. O-only three more. Well now I can't move. Train's really packed on now, and I'm being pushed into a wall by curry-sweat's backpack. I can't move - not even my legs or I'll fall over. I've taken off my own backpack and put it under my legs...which was a horrible decision. I can barely close my legs now - never mind clamp them shut. And I'm certainly not brave enough to put a hand down there to hold it. I just need to try to look natural. Even though I can feel all the weight of my bladder practically at the gates - and I don't know how much more those gates can hold. Especially with the train bouncing every now and again. Each bounce brings me closer and closer to breaking point. ALL the weight of my bladder is basically slammed down for a second, with nothing but my muscles keeping the contents in. Very much against the will of my bladder. Each bump is almost enough to - Eep! I felt that. Big bump. Too much. I slam my thighs together over my bag, squishing it beneath my feet - but it's too late. There's a terrible warm feeling in my tights again. I'm getting flashbacks to Friday. Even over the roar of the train through the tunnel I can hear the drip - it sounds to me like thunder. My face goes bright red, and I daren't look down... but I have to know. I tilt my head down, trying to adjust my skirt to make it look natural as I do so - and then I see it. A single drop on the grey canvas of my bag, stained dark and directly underneath me. My heart sinks. Act natural. I look up and try to see if anyone noticed. No one seems to have seen - or at least they don't care if they did. I really hope they didn't. How much longer is this train going to be!? I can't hold it! I REALLY need to pee! I've already leaked once, and I really don't want to do it again - I've resigned to leaning against the wall with my thighs pressed together. Hardly subtle, I know, but I'd rather look desperate to pee than look very wet and very relieved. I must look a sight right now - packed into the corner of the carriage, legs clamped together, one eye closed, probably red with shame and desperation. The train's only just pulling into the fourth station now, and I've already dribbled. The heat has died down a little, but where my legs are so pressed together it's still warm. A cooler stripe is reaching a couple inches down my thigh, and that's gone cold. It's the worst feeling - not only am I bursting to pee, I've got this cold and clammy thigh. At least people are getting off at this stop... ...But not so many that there any empty seats. The carriage is empty enough though that everyone can see me, struggling to not wet myself on the train like a child. Mister curry-and-sweat got off at least, so that's an improvement. I can stand up and put my bag back on, giving me space to cross one leg over the over. It feels a little easier, but not much for sure. Every movement now seems to press down on my bladder. It feels like a brick, nestled inside me. Begging to be emptied. Every second makes me want to empty it more and more - but I can't. And anyway, it's just one more stop. And the train's pulled to a stop. But we're not at the platform. The overhead speaker comes on while I'm bending down a little with one leg wrapped around another. "We apologise for the delay, there's been a signal failure ahead, and the train's being held at the station while it's being fixed. We should be moving shortly." Well fuck. I hear myself groan as I bend down even further in a futile attempt to hold it all in. It hurts now to hold it, but I have to. P-people are looking at me. Why did I groan!? Fuuuuuck! How long will this train be stuck here! Fucking delays! Why now? I should have used the staff toilet at work, I'd rather have to deal with whatever Dan had left in the bowl than deal with what's built up in me now - what I'm scared will soon be running down me. I have to hold it! I can't let it go! But I want it to go - I can't! I can't let it go! I... I can't hold it! Another hot burst inside my tights and I know that I'm starting to lose this battle. I whimper out loud as I feel my bladder losing its grip again, followed by a warmth spreading down my leg. It's an odd feeling, losing control like this - I felt the pee coming out, and I can definitely feel it running down my leg - but I didn't feel my bladder push. It just...came out. This is...the worst. I'm going to wet myself again, aren't I? I've already started... The train lurches forward again, catching me off guard. Another hot spurt erupts in my tights - this time I catch it with a hand as I slam it into my skirt. Perfect. Now there's a wet spot the size of my fist, under my fist. It's so warm - my hand's wet - but I can't give up. I have to hold it! People are whispering and pointing - I can hear them - but I can't look up. I'm looking down through tears at my legs which are clamped tightly together and quivering. And that's when I feel it again. Those waves I got on Friday. My breaths begin to grow short - I can't breathe in fully because my lungs are even pushing down on my bladder. Every inch of my body wants this to end - and my bladder is starting to fight me. Hot pressure starts mounting in my gut - rising and rising. My breaths get shorter - I know this is almost the end. But the train's so close to the stop - just a few seconds more and FUCK! The train lurches again and I lose my balance. My legs unwrap and I have to kick down to find the floor. The slightest distraction from holding everything in - but I can tell already it was enough. The pressure inside me spikes and I let out a yelp, clasping for my groin with both my hands now. From the corner of my eye I can see people looking. Pressure keeps growing in me, and I can feel it pressing almost directly against the gates, ready to burst. A sharp breath, and the pressure grows even higher - I can feel, now with my fingers, something warm and wet beginning to trickle out of me. Staring down at my hands, I can see it running over a thumb. It's all too much - I can't hold it any more. My entire body lurches as my bladder forces itself to squeeze - and this time I can't hold it back. I hear myself gasp as pee begins to erupt out of me and into my hands, soaking them almost immediately, running through my fingers and splashing loudly on the floor. I can hear other passengers gasping as my bladder takes its hot, wet victory over me. Pee begins to splatter beneath me uncontrollably, cascading down my legs, soaking into my tights and shoes. Even hotter than the pee running down my legs is my face, undoubtedly bright red. I can feel a tear running down my cheek - pathetic in comparison to the rivers running down my legs. The relief begins to hit as I surrender to my bladder, sending a wave of warmth up my back. There's not much else I can do now - even if I could stop, what would be the point? My skirt's soaked and getting wetter by the second, people are watching me have an accident, and the puddle's beginning to run down the carriage away from me. One man picks his bag off the ground and puts it on his lap. I'd blush more if my face wasn't already more blush than skin. It's too late now to even try to stop it. I just stare at the ground as I let my bladder pour into my tights. I drop my hands limply by my sides, the sleeves of my hoodie dripping with the pee they've absorbed. They feel like weights on my hands, still warm and fresh with urine. Almost a reminder of my second accident - as if the soaked skirt and tights weren't enough. I can feel a lump in my throat as I stare at the growing puddle underneath me, still rippling and splashing as the last drips of pee fall into it. I keep staring down as the train finally pulls into the station. The puddle ripples with every movement the train makes beneath me. I can't look up - I know people are looking. I hear the doors open and that's my cue - I make a quick dash to get out, nearly slipping in the puddle as I do. My feet squish with every step in my sodden trainers. How could this get any worse? My skirt's soaked, my tights are soaked - and torn, I noticed while staring at my ankles. My shoes and socks are soaked. Even the sleeves of my hoodie are soaked. Now for the walk home... "Oh, hey Amy!" fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. I turn to face an all too familiar voice. It's Charlie. What's she doing here? In fact I'll ask. "W-what are you doing here?" "I thought that was you! I could tell by the-" "Charlie." "Sorry! I'm staying at my brothers this week - I didn't know you lived around here!" "I...uhh...yeah..." "Another accident then?" She asks me in what I think is an attempt to be sympathetic. I glare at her. "I did offer to get you a mop." I look down and sob once - it's all gotten too much. But then I feel something a bit unexpected. Charlie puts her arm over my shoulder. "Hey, there there Amy!" She says, pulling my shoulders a couple times. "It's not too bad - how far do you live from here anyway?" "A, um...about six stops on the bus from here." "Well that won't do - my brother's is just around the corner - don't worry, he isn't in for a good few hours," she says. I look up and give her a weak smile. "Come on, I've probably got some spare clothes there too." I look down at the wet clothes that I've left on the side of her tub, draped in so they can dry out. I've run the shower head over them to get them as clean as I can. Charlie's given me an old pair of trackies she used to use as jammies. They've got some significant holes in them, but they're better than walking around nude or wet. I pull them up over my slightly glistening legs and tie up the drawstrings. Turns out she's a couple inches wider than me and doesn't own any belts, so it's either these, tiny pyjama shorts, or a Pikachu onesie. The onesie looks more comfortable, but I will be walking home in these. I make my way out the bathroom and head into the lounge. Charlie's already set herself up in her own jammies. She's half-lying on her sofa with a controller in her hand and Battlefront 2 on the screen. She picks a second controller off the ground with her foot and kicks it onto the couch before patting there with her hand. "Fancy a couple games before you head off?" I smile and take the controller.
    6 points
  7. F56-03

    Version 1.0.0

    3,924 downloads

    Beautiful girls hold there pee to the limit and wet themselves in desperation over a container. Some will strip down to there underwear and hold it while some choose to stay in there clothes Screenshots are in order of the files Enjoy
    Free
    3 points
  8. Version 1.0.0

    437 downloads

    I got a new pack of panties today! join me in a series of videos where we see how they look when wet! 😍😍 here’s video 1 out of the series!
    Free
    3 points
  9. https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5de1a51aae495 Anyone know who this is or where it came from?
    3 points
  10. Pon de Replay

    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.
    3 points
  11. Desperate Destiny Destiny sat wearing her green top and oversized green bow in her hair as agreed. She nervously sipped at her lemonade. Blind date number 6. Was it an omen she wondered or could this one actually be legitimate, attractive and interesting? He couldn’t be as boring as number 1, or as sleazy as number two, or as smelly and scruffy as number 3. Number 4 at least tried but then he’d left for the bathroom, never returned and left her to pay the bill. Number 5 was a no show and number 6...well so far he was five minutes late and counting! Maybe her friends were right and internet dating was doomed to fail? Well she was here now and this man had ten more minutes and if he didn’t contact her or appear she was deleting the app and giving up. She was already half way through her lemonade anyway. She looked around before tinkering with her phone to distract herself. Then a tap on her shoulder sent shivers down her full body. Destiny turned and immediately felt the shadow of someone behind her. His shoes were smart, he had smart black trousers on, a casual but smart jumper with a v neck and shirt beneath and...the most natural welcoming smile she could ever recall. He put his hand out to shake hers as she rose from her seat to face him, aware he wasn’t much taller than she was. ‘Sorry I’m a little later than planned. Every single light was red! I’m Fraser by the way but pretty sure you’ve worked that out. You look way more beautiful than your profile picture by the way. Wow!’ ‘Hi. Emmm thanks. I quite liked that profile pic too haha!’ Emma gestured to Fraser to sit but he asked if she wanted anything more to drink first. ‘I’ll stick to another lemonade if that’s ok. Thanks.’ ‘I’ll be right back!’ Destiny looked at Fraser standing at the bar and mentally ticked some boxes in her head. He seemed friendly. Tick. Genuine? So far at least. Tick. Sexy? His smile absolutely and there was definitely something about his think Scottish accent too. Tick. Generous? Well he hadn’t asked her for money for the drinks so that was a start. Good company? She’d find that out soon enough. Nerves made her hands shake a little and seeing Fraser at the bar ordering made her throat dry so Destiny gulped down the last of her lemonade and looked at the all too familiar menu. She knew this pub well but even familiar places could seem strange on your first date she thought. Just then Fraser returned with the drinks. He took his coat off and hung it neatly over the chair before sitting down. ‘Saw you looking at the menu there. Anything you fancy? I saw the special on the board when I was at the bar and the home made steak pie sounds amazing. Makes me think of home!’ ‘Sounds perfect. There’s usually quite quick at taking your order here.’ Sure enough less than five minutes later and two steak pies, chips and vegetables were on order and Fraser and Destiny continued their conversation. Destiny was somewhat surprised at how easy to talk to Fraser was and Fraser was equally surprised how ‘ordinary’ and lovely Destiny was. Wether it was nerves or a desire to please each other or something else again neither knew, but without thought or effort both had their hands around their drinks and sipped almost simultaneously as they chatted. So far so good thought Destiny, and unbeknown to her Fraser was having a lovely time too. The food arrived and Destiny was surprised when the waitress asked if they wanted any more drinks. It was only then she noticed she’d somehow almost finished her second glass already. ‘Do you sell Irn Bru at all?’ Fraser asked smiling. ‘As a matter of fact we do sir. It’s surprisingly popular here. Ordinary or diet sir?’ ‘Oh ordinary please.’ ‘And mam?’ ‘Oh I think a water please thanks’ ‘Fizzy or still mam?’ ‘Oh still would be great thanks’. The meal looked delicious and as Destiny began cutting hers up she couldn’t help but snigger when Fraser joked ‘she never asked if you wanted your drink diet. Honestly, you can’t get the staff round here!’ Funny? She could tick that now too. So far at least. The evening continued well until around half way through eating when Destiny felt a cool breeze from the door which sent a shiver down her body and through her bladder and she moved in her seat subconsciously. She smiled nervously at Fraser, ignored the twinge and carried on eating. The chips and vegetables were salty and Destiny was glad of the refreshing water. Fraser seemed to be enjoying his, even commenting that it was as good as his mums and he winked as he said it which Destiny found surprisingly sexy. Date number six was much better than expected. She wasn’t in any hurry to go anywhere. Dinner turned to pudding then tea and coffee and before Destiny was aware she’d consumed a full pint of lemonade, half a pint of water and a mug of tea! Time was passing quickly and she was in no hurry to leave Fraser with his ginger hair and deep brown eyes. She swung her legs under the table determined her stupid bladder wouldn’t ruin her best date so far. If Fraser excused himself for a comfort break she would too but she wasn’t going to be the first to break away. Absolutely not. The pub was getting busier and louder as a major match played on large TV’s and Fraser suggested they find a quieter corner to sit. Destiny knew she should have piped up something similar to ‘that would be lovely. I’ll just nip to the ladies first’ or something similar, but Fraser was too mesmerising, too exciting even, to leave. She’d go as soon as they parted. Yes that would be fine. They moved together to a snug couch by a fire. Romantic, quieter, but much further from the ladies. Fraser suggested another cup of tea and despite her already full bladder Destiny nodded and smiled. With Fraser at the bar she crossed her legs and pulled her knees towards her. She was bursting and thought about slipping to the loo while Fraser was not looking but she didn’t want to leave her bag, coat and Fraser’s coat unattended nor did she like the idea of Fraser returning and finding her away. She circled her foot and tightened her muscles and smiled as Fraser turned towards her and winked. Goodness he was stunning in the light of the pub and even the laughter and chatter of strangers seemed to somehow feel special as Destiny realised she actually really liked Fraser and absolutely wanted to date him again. The coffee table was low and bending to reach her tea squeezed against Destiny’s bladder and she quietly moaned. She didn’t want to show it but her body was absolutely desperate for release though pride prevented her excusing herself. ‘You ok?’ ‘Yeah fine.’ The tea was delicious but Destiny’s bladder just couldn’t stretch so she sat bolt upright, tense and concentrating rather than drinking. ‘You’ve gone quiet. Have I upset you?’ Fraser reached over towards Destiny and hugged her lightly. ‘If I’m boring you it’s ok. Just say.’ ‘No. No. Not at all. Just thinking.’ That was the truth really. She was thinking about how to politely excuse herself and how she could get to the ladies dry. But she couldn’t say that on a first date. She bit her lip, shifted on the seat and tensed her back more. Her face flushed and a drop of sweat formed on her forehead. It took all her effort to hold her bladder closed. ‘Please don’t feel you can’t say Destiny. We’ve had a lovely evening. Well I definitely have. You are great company. You are beautiful, intelligent and interesting. I would love to meet up again. So if something is bothering you I think honestly is definitely the best policy. ‘ It was all Destiny could do to whisper. Every last ounce of her energy was reserved for holding back the huge flood inside her. Her arms folded around her bladder as if hugging herself and she bent forward with a tear in her eye. Fraser put his arm around her and his head down towards hers and whispered. ‘Whatever it is it’s ok. I don’t bite.’ Destiny fidgeted before gasping as another spasm pushed through her body. ‘It’s just...it’s just...I’ve drank too much sorry. I should have...oh Good God above...’ Destiny pushed her bum as far back into the seat as she could and pressed a hand tight into her crotch pulling her coat over herself to cover it up while her head faced down to avoid seeing Fraser who was hugging her in concern. In a broken whisper she bravely but reluctantly confessed: ‘I should have gone at dinner. I should have gone before we moved over here. I’ve had to go for so so long. Now it’s an emergency. I am so so so desperate now. I think I’m going to pee my pants.’ Fraser kissed her forehead and stroked her hair. He whispered back: ‘Oh my sweet Destiny. My dear darling desperate Destiny.’ He slipped his hand under her coat and over her own in her crotch area as he used his other hand to tenderly lift her chin and kiss her lovingly on the lips whilst gently pressing his hand over her own between her legs. A current washed over Destiny as their lips met. She wanted more. So much more. But first she had to pee. Urgently. ‘I shan’t hold you any longer my precious desperate Destiny. I don’t want you upset. But hurry back. I’ll be right here waiting for you.’ His words enticed her like crazy but the pounding from her vagina was intensive and relentless too. She tied her coat around her waist to hide any wetness and ran to the ladies as she felt her knickers dampen. Fraser looked on with his own legs crossed in a vain attempt to hide his erection. He liked what he’d seen tonight and he wanted more again. He hadn’t planned to get a beautiful girl so close to wetting herself but he couldn’t believe his luck that it had happened. It might not be entirely appropriate to do what he wanted with Destiny tonight but he resolved to excuse himself briefly for the gents when Destiny returned. Assuming he could wait that long that was.
    3 points
  12. [Author's notes: First of all, this is my first fanfic on OmoOrg, so please don't be too harsh! Critiques are welcome. Yes, the title sucks, I'm not good at naming things. Also, as a request, don't quote the entire post in your replies, thanks!] Chapter 1: The First Accident After a long day of class, Yang walked into her dorm room, and began to stretch. Somehow, Ruby had convinced Weiss to go into town to go shopping, and Blake was studying in the library, so Yang was left to herself. And that was perfectly fine by her; in fact, she was relieved by that fact. She had a plan for tonight, after all; a plan that worked a lot better since she was by herself, and she had already put several hours worth of preparation into her plan. Her first step had been to take a drink break as often as she could; between every class, and at every water fountain between her last class and the dorms. The second step in her two-step plan, was more of an inaction. She had neglected to use the restroom since before lunch. The end result was a simple fact, as common sense as 2+2=4. Yang Xiao Long desperately needed to pee. As she stretched, she intentionally spread her legs as wide as she could – which was a remarkable amount – intentionally relieving as much pressure on her bladder as she could. The action caused her to have to use her bladder muscles as the only thing keeping her pee in. This, of course, meant that the feeling of desperation multiplied significantly. Yang, however, didn’t mind. She was still in full control. She’d spent the last several weeks working on her stamina – holding as absolutely long as she could, to force her body to figure out how to hold as much as possible. Yang decided to test herself. Instead of holding back actively, she pushed out ever so slightly. This let her pee rush all the way into her urethra. She was now using her sheer willpower to hold it in. She kept this up until she feel her control beginning to slip, and then returned to holding it actively. However, the effort had essentially doubled her desperation, and she was almost right back on the edge. Since she was near the end of her endurance, Yang finally allowed herself to head to the bathroom and lock the door behind her, just in case. However, instead of dropping her pants and sitting on the toilet like a good girl, she climbed down into the bathtub. She leaned up against the wall and spread her legs as wide as she could. She reached between her legs, and rubber her groin over her panties, and moaned slightly as the urge to pee grew with the pressure. She knew exactly what she was getting ready to do, and she absolutely loved the thought of it. As her panties began to get wet with her excitement, she thought back to the first time she’d done something like what was about to happen. * * * It had happened in her first semester at Beacon. She was just getting settled into her daily routine. It turned out that there was plenty of time for lunch, and her professor immediately after lunch was fairly lenient with tardiness. So, she offered to take her team to Vale for lunch. The four girls went to a popular restaurant and ate their fills. Yang neglected to pay attention to how much she had to drink, and ended up getting a few refills too many. As the girls made their way back to Beacon, Yang realized that she wouldn’t have time to use the restroom before class. Her professor was lenient, yes, but not that lenient. No matter, Yang thought to herself, I’ll just go after the next class. I don’t even have to go that bad.. However, as the class wore on, her extra refills began to add up. The class didn’t end a moment too soon. Yang left the classroom – and then immediately realized her mistake. My next class is on the far side of the school. Yang ran across the school, and finally made it to the right building. Unfortunately, she only had a minute or so to be in the class, and this as one of the strictest teachers in the school. Yang sighed and resigned herself to suffering through one more class. Like the previous hour, the multiple sodas took their toll on Yang’s bladder. By the end of class, she was barely able to focus. As the bell rang, Yang got up and headed towards the nearest bathroom. When she got there, she cursed silently. Shit! The bathroom would be out of order today, wouldn’t it! By the time she determined the bathroom really was out of order and unusable, Yang realized that she had just enough time to make her last class of the day. Well, she thought, it could be worse. It’s the last class, I’ll make it just fine. As the class wore on, Yang could feel her endurance wearing thin. She cursed the professor with every fiber of her body. How dare you teach about the Great Flood today! With the constant talk of water, Yang was unable to keep her mind off of her needs. She tapped her foot impatiently, as her bladder reached maximum capacity. As the class continued, Yang’s focus shifted more and more on her aching bladder. Hesitantly, she crossed her legs in an attempt to hold it in better. She hoped no one looked at her, because she very rarely crossed her legs. As the minutes ticked by agonizingly slowly, she soon found her hips wiggling in a ‘pee dance’. Damn it, she cursed, I really shouldn’t have had so much to drink! She started to cry internally, when a sudden wave of desperation hit her. She quickly grabbed her groin with her free hand, trying to physically hold the wave back. Her efforts were mostly successful, but a small but significant amount leaked into her panties. When she was certain she had control of herself again, she made possibly the biggest mistake of the day; she looked at the clock. How the hell do we still have half an hour left?!? She screamed on the inside as she realized something very important. Quite simply, she was absolutely not going to make it. She had just begun to raise her hand to ask to use the restroom, when Jaune’s hand shot up. “P-professor Peach, may I please use the restroom!?” Jaune yelled. With her permission, he got up, went to the front of class, and took the only bathroom pass there was. Professor Peach was often criticized for her elementary school method of using the restroom, but she absolutely refused to change it. Yang’s heart sank right into her bladder as she lowered her hand before she really even raised it. As close as they were to the end of class, she wasn’t going to get a chance to go. She whined to herself as another wave rolled over her. In that moment, Yang made a decision that would alter her life forever. She knew she wasn’t going to make it without wetting herself, but maybe she could spare herself the embarrassment of a full accident. I’m going to have to let some out. Oh gods, this is the worst day of my life. Taking a deep breath, Yang prepared to summon as much control as she could muster. Concentrating, she let go of some of the tension holding herself back. Her face turned red as a small amount of liquid began to work its way into her panties. She did her absolute best to keep her stream week and slow, trying to maintain control. The slightest miscalculation, If she let go just the slightest amount too much, and she would lose control, and she would end up soaking herself. Yang slowly allowed herself to leak for the count of 30, and then somehow managed to force herself to stop. She could feel the wet spot on her panties, and knew there was a small puddle in her chain. She sat and thought for a moment, trying to assess her situation. She did indeed feel better, but the edge was still sharp, and she knew she would have to let out more. Stubbornly, Yang forced herself to try and wait it out, not knowing who would see her, but after a mere few minutes, she was forced to concede. Tears welled up in her eyes as she willingly peed in her panties some more. This time, she went for the count of 60, and flinched as she heard the subtle, faint sound of her puddle spilling onto the floor. Though barely audible to her, in her ears she felt like she heard each and every drop hitting the floor. She swore that she felt every ounce flowing out of here as if it were a gallon. Fortunately, in the last ten seconds, she felt the edge fade, and she knew she would be able to make it out of the class without peeing any more. She re-asserted control over her bladder, and cautiously looked around to see if anyone was looking at her. To her great surprise, everyone was just as bored and expressionless as they ever were. Thank Oum. I don’t know how I could live with myself if people knew that I peed myself. To her saving grace, the final bell rang and dismissed the class for the day. Yang remained in her seat until everyone that would be able to see her mess was gone and then got up and hurried out of the class. Never thought I’d be glad that the school uniform’s skirt is black, but here I am. She hurried to the dorm as fast as she could, but her need resurfaced and prevented her from running. Eventually, Yang made her way to the dorm. She waddled to the bathroom, so desperate to pee that she couldn’t even walk straight. She got the door open, closed, and locked, when she lost all control. Her pee once again began to escape from her, renewing the wetness in her panties. Fuck! She screamed internally. No, no, no! This can’t be happening. However, despite her best efforts, nothing would restore her control. I can’t make a mess… she managed to think as her pee began to flow down her legs. She hobbled over to the bathtub and got in, finally giving up and letting her pee flow uninhibited. For what felt like hours, Yang’s bladder emptied itself into her clothes, completely and utterly soaking them, turning her white panties very see-through. As the embarrassment faded, Yang was surprised to find herself getting aroused. Damn, this almost feels good. Yang didn’t know if her arousal was from the sheer relief of letting go after holding for so long, or if she was actually enjoying herself. All she could really think about was peeing, and the vaguely positive feeling it brought. * * * The whole accident had lasted maybe a full minute, but Yang vividly remembered the feeling. About a month later, Yang decided to do it again, but this time intentionally and more controlled. With the embarrassment and desperation not present to distract her, Yang was able to focus on the feeling of peeing in her clothes, and found that she did indeed enjoy it, and was still aroused by the feeling. And now, here she was, masturbating to her first accident, filled to the brim with pee, just beginning to leak. She achieved orgasm, and came into her clothes. Not far behind, the contents of her bladder followed, and Yang Xiao Long once again peed herself.
    2 points
  13. 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.
    2 points
  14. A last minute work trip landed me in Vale, Co. for Thanksgiving. I figured sense I would be there I might as well hit the mountain too. I have been interested in wearing diapers while snow boarding. i brought a Northshore MegaMax with me in my bag and changed into in Thanksgiving Morning. I spent the rest of the day having a great time boarding and stopping to rest and look out over the Valley. At one point I sat there on a run looking out over the beautiful landscape and let loose. It felt great to sit there and wet myself with that great view. I boarded the rest of the day and had dinner in the village still in my diaper. All in all it was an amazing Thanksgiving.
    2 points
  15. 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.
    2 points
  16. View File Tania - 3 wetting and pee play videos 3 wetting and pee play videos Submitter Reeve Submitted 12/01/2019 Category Peeing
    2 points
  17. Definitely. 🙂 I can make more hopefully tomorrow It is my first video and I definitely want to do more. Yes
    2 points
  18. F56-03

    View File F56-03 Beautiful girls hold there pee to the limit and wet themselves in desperation over a container. Some will strip down to there underwear and hold it while some choose to stay in there clothes Screenshots are in order of the files Enjoy Submitter omorashi67 Submitted 12/01/2019 Category JAV Collections
    2 points
  19. Version 1.0.0

    494 downloads

    Renata totally pisses her tight ripped blue jeans & white socks
    Free
    2 points
  20. Version 1.0.0

    373 downloads

    Source: https://www.pornhub.com/users/ketsuqueen/videos
    Free
    2 points
  21. Order up!

    "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.
    2 points
  22. Order up!

    You said in your discord that we are to swear at this story. Fucking story. What the fuck. You're welcome.
    2 points
  23. Well, from my profile pic you can probably imagine that I have worn panties under a diaper. When I was growing up I went through like a couple of months where my mom had me wear panties under my Goodnites to bed, so that I'd feel wet and wake up. Only I didn't and all if did was cause leaks and more laundry.
    2 points
  24. счастливого Рождества
    2 points
  25. Version 1.0.0

    590 downloads

    3 Desperation and Wetting Scenes; Japanese Bike Leggings Desperation and Wettings
    Free
    2 points
  26. View File Japanese Bike Leggings Wettings 3 Desperation and Wetting Scenes; Japanese Bike Leggings Desperation and Wettings Submitter maxomaxo2 Submitted 12/01/2019 Category Peeing
    2 points
  27. I found this set of videos on VK, and its a couple of wonderful short videos of someone's GF peeing for us. WARNING: NUDITY OddballPhonyEyra-mobile.mp4 Thai GF Pissing In Her Own Mouth And Spitting It On Her Tits GIF.mp4 My Thai GF Pisses Doggy Style GIF.mp4 My Thai GF Pisses In Her Own Mouth Again ) GIF.mp4
    2 points
  28. View File Ketsuqueen - 2 wetting videos Source: https://www.pornhub.com/users/ketsuqueen/videos Submitter Reeve Submitted 12/01/2019 Category Peeing
    1 point
  29. Heya! A couple of years ago I used to be a frequent poster here, sharing videos of a few of my wettings. They were hosted on Tumblr, which sadly became closed off for adult content and took a lot of mine with it. Happily, I recently found local copies of my videos, so I have now uploaded them to Pornhub for safe keeping. https://www.pornhub.com/users/carysel/videos/public I'm fairly modest and like wetting myself in tights, so most of my videos are just me in a private place weeing down my legs - although there a couple different ones. I think this is also the first time I've been able to share one of me wetting myself onto a pad, which is one of my more intense ones. I've marked them as free to download on Pornhub so you're welcome to download them. Stay wet! ❤
    1 point
  30. I peed my jeans

    I was so desperate I almost was unable to film. 8AF7411F-7939-448B-9F7A-7DB18420B703.mp4
    1 point
  31. Haven't seen this here before. Sorry if repost. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=R7D5Ip33lns
    1 point
  32. I wore mine during black Friday shopping, but I'm usually wearing one anyway.
    1 point
  33. That was fantasmic I really enjoyed reading that story
    1 point
  34. I think there is a lot of promise in VR adult entertainment, but I'm not sure we'll ever see it fully materialize. Just like 3D video, VR holds a lot of potential. But, just like 3D never took off in a big way for adult content, I fear the same opposing forces may stop VR from ever really catching on in a big way. There are two separate issues here conspiring, at least that is how it seems from my vantage point. First, people are lazy. When people want to get off to porn, even omo porn, they typically want to do so in a way that involves putting forth the least amount of effort. Taking the time to setup a 3D display, or VR headset, just to watch a video isn't something many people are going to do. Now you may well point out to me that you would be willing to do this, and I do not doubt that there are several people out there who are more than happy to put forth the effort. The problem is, there aren't enough people to make it worth it. And, even if you are willing to take the time getting your VR setup working correctly to watch a 360-degree omo video, how much more are you going to be willing to pay for that content? The second issue is the market is flooded with small creators, offering their content directly to consumers, but who are unwilling or unable to make significant investments in technology or production quality. For years now we have been trending towards small independent producers; Girls who are doing stuff on webcam or recording themselves on their phones and posting it on clip sites. In some ways, this is great for the consumer as there is more content than ever before. On the other hand, many of these small producers have difficulty just with basic lighting and camera work. They don't seem willing to invest hardly anything when it comes to the technical side of things. More traditional studios might be willing to make these kinds of investments, but they are loosing more and more customers to these independent producers and can't afford to take big risks like VR content production. Ultimately, I think the future of omo content, like other adult content, will be small indy producers trying to make an extra dollar or two in their free time. Just like we no longer have million-dollar mainstream porn productions in the works, the future of omo porn isn't one of higher quality or technology investments. It is one where we have traded steak for Happy Meals; a saturated market of cheaply produced content where there is no profit in investing in higher quality or or better technology.
    1 point
  35. Those stories I really enjoyed reading
    1 point
  36. View File PissJapanTV Clips (part 9) Random files from PissJapanTV Enjoy Submitter omorashi67 Submitted 11/30/2019 Category Peeing
    1 point
  37. BEST DESPERATION EVER. Especially the second part, ten out of ten.
    1 point
  38. After a long night of drinking, holding and leaking on the dancefloor, and a near accident at around 11pm, don't worry I made it to the toilet but I peed through my panties and then slept in them! Only to re-wet with my morning desperation!! I wore old panties on purpose so I could leak throughout the night without any worry of ruining some nice panties. After my close call at 11pm I went to sleep, although I could tell my bladder was filling up fast. I woke up this morning about 12 hours after I went to sleep and we'll... I was desperate, here's some pics of me finally releasing (and being desperate beforehand because why not) 🤭 Hope you enjoy!
    1 point
  39. Here's some more: Pants wetting videos (no audio) Panty wetting and toilet videos
    1 point
  40. Yesterday I visited friends for lunch in a town just a couple of stops on the local underground. I returned home late afternoon and by the time I reached the station to get the train back I found the cups of tea had caught up with me despite having a "just in case" visit before I left. Whether it was the tea or the cold autumn chill I'm not sure. But by the time the train arrived my need had grown quite considerably. I was really uncomfortable and was quite worried. I'm one of those Omorashi devotees who loves everything about the fetish except the idea of doing it in public. Hearing of others troubles yes, but not mine. Selfish I know. It was literally a ten minute journey and as soon as we hit the platform I was out of the tube train doors and making haste for the toilets. Then disaster … a sign saying that due to "anti social behaviour and drug taking" the toilets had been closed. My heart sank and I feared I was about to do something anti-social myself! But I knew the café in the local park had toilets as I had used them in the past. I hurried up the road … it was just a few hundred yards. Then as I entered the park there was a terrible realisation …. where were all the tables and chairs! Then the second realisation. It had turned 4pm, the Winter timetable had come in and both the café and toilets had shut. There was an option to go behind a tree or find a bush but it wasn't that dark. The place is a route home for schoolchildren and I know that covert surveillance is in place to deal with the very behaviour the station was trying to address. I had no option but to endure the struggle of a 20 minute of a walk home. Because of bladder weakness I often wear a pull-up on long journeys but I hadn't wanted to that day because my friends might have noticed the bulge and in any case it wasn't that much of a trip. It wasn't long before I felt a spurt dampen my underpants and I was really apprehensive about losing complete control. I tried to quicken my pace but as fellow sufferers will know it is not that easy and can encourage further leaks. Despite my superhuman efforts to hold on more piss escaped as I entered my road and I could feel the legs of my jeans clinging to my thighs through wetness.. Just another few hundred yards. Please let me make it. I hoped my three quarter length coat would hide any embarrassment but as you will see from the pics my jeans were a very light blue! Luckily I made the front door without seeing any neighbours!
    1 point
  41. 1 point
  42. Great stories here. I sympathize with you on the early morning calls. I deal with those, too. Really is a pain in the ass to get up at 2:00 AM sometimes. At least you got to enjoy your call a bit more than just closing it out. It sounded like a pretty full morning. 😝 You definitely ended the night on a high note, too. 😄 A little extra bonus for all your hard work today!
    1 point
  43. Version 1.0.0

    776 downloads

    Desperate office ladies run to the bathroom to relieve themselves Enjoy
    Free
    1 point
  44. ugh i'm so mad i was trying to upload videos and i accidentally closed chrome... i'll try again in a few days it's too late lol
    1 point
  45. Guess the line was too long to wait?
    1 point
  46. I will definitely continue to share as much as I can!!! I have a video and some pictures I’m trying to upload:) we will see if they work!!! Hopefully this uploads:) here’s my newest video y’all, share or whatever it is you do if you like it 😂 since I’m not very good at this website yet! I can’t wait to see what you think 🙂 I ❤️ All of you omo fiends IMG_8817.MOV
    1 point
  47. My favorite reasons for a woman to pee herself are... Because she really enjoys wetting herself on purpose, whether in pants, shorts, panties, skirts, bikinis, bathing suits, yoga pants, or whatever else she may be wearing. Because she enjoys holding in her pee until the point that she is absolutely bursting and accidentally wets herself. Because she is participating in a hold-it-in contest and winds up peeing in her pants. And last but not least, because she enjoys doing either or all of the above in front of a friend or partner.
    1 point
  48. I loooove holding while I'm high. I find I'm usually more motivated to hold on for longer, and the feeling of wet clothes feels so much more intense and erotic. I find myself wanting to lie down and hold until I've leaked so much that it pools beneath me and my shirt is soaked 😳 add in some alcohol to make the hold even more intense and time just floats by, it's amazing. Does anyone else hold while high?
    1 point
  49. Version 1.0.0

    1,194 downloads

    Faye out in public heavily diapered while going shopping
    Free
    1 point
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