chyanwra

I like the feel of womens' pants when peeing, but I sometimes put an incontinence pad in them for a bit of variety, and to prolong the experience.
You can buy cheap but very absorbant pads from ASDA (in the UK) and this allows me to fill up and wet a number of times into a pad, before I finally wet straight into the panties.

Apart from that, as has been said before, I've got no real desire to dress or identify as a woman, but peeing in their clothes, hell yes!

Yes please @Karly_cr

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My favorite is being on the bottom and having my gf panties pulled aside riding me as she wets herself on my lap🥰😉 do you think your partner would like it at all?

Secretly in public and being able to get away with it is an amazing feeling

I'll second that. Some pull up incontinence pants for women work really well.  They're not obvious that you're wearing them and take a fair amount of liquid without leaking.

You can stand in the middle of a town and just let go, while looking at the people around you.

Night time (for heavy leaks) incontinence pads inside pants, mens, or women's if you're feeling daring, work well as well.

I'm not into wearing womens clothes at all, but a pair of panties with a pad feels really sexy

A diaper is the obvious one! If that's not your thing, then yeah, anything black/dark coloured, and non-absorbent sportswear fabrics.

There's nothing wrong with that ❤️. As long as kinks/fetish activity occurs between safe, sane, and consenting adults, it's totally fine to like what you like. It's not harming anyone. There are some women who do wear pads for bladder leaks. (Idk the difference between them and menstrual pads tbh, but they are in the same aisle). Plus, I've definitely seen porn of girls peeing with a pad in their undies, so you're definitely not alone! 

I have a confession to make and you can feel free to delete this but is it weird to have a omo fetish where a woman pees her undies with a pad in her undies? I don’t know why I like it, it’s weird and I had this weighing my chest and I’m finally getting it off. Sorry

I love it!  Sometimes I will sit down to pee with an erection so I just piss on my crotch for fun.  But it's always better to have someone else piss on me.

feels good. feels better when someone else is doing it 😈

Wow!
I had an aunt that would never shut the toilet door when she was peeing and used to do it openly in front of us kids.

I can still remember her sitting on the toilet with her panties round her ankles.

I'm sure that was the beginning of my pee fetish.

I get that it isn't impossible. I still like when it WOULD be possible, but isn't because of the penis.

I sometimes like to wear pull ups or a pad when playing desperation games. As you say @SquirmWorm it's great to get to a checkout knowing that you're wet, or even get there and release a squirt while chatting.  With a pull up or maxi pad I can stand in a crowded street absolutely aching to go, knowing that if I lose control temporarily I can still continue the game afterwards.  Without the padding it's going to be home, and clean up time.

I still try and hold it as long as possible, but sometimes when it gets to the point of no return it's great to release it in public without everyone knowing. In fact to me it's more of a turn on if I'm peeing in public, in secret.
You still have to try to regain control as soon as possible, as if you let it all go at once it's still possible to flood the pull ups or pad.
Sometimes I've flooded too quickly and felt the tell tale trickle down my leg, but luckily, so far, it hasn't been enough to get noticed.
 

Guys, I still can't believe this happened. My aunt Alexandra (Alex), my Dad's older sister who had just turned 50 years old, came to visit us with her 15-year-old son (our cousin Jason) last weekend. She is quite funny and my brother and I really like her. Although she is quite chubby (not overweight) she still looks attractive for her age, especially with her long blonde hair. 
Anyway, my little brother is about to become a commercial airline pilot and also has a license to fly smaller airplanes. I had flown with him several times already, but my aunt and cousin had not. My brother suggested to take us on a little roundtrip, which really excited my cousin, but my aunt was reluctant at first as she does not really like flying. Somehow we got her convinced though and my brother, my cousin, my aunt and I climbed a little Cessna last Saturday to fly for about 2 hours. As it was my cousin's first flight on such a plane, he wanted to sit in the front with my brother and my aunt and I climbed the backseats, where there is not much leg and head space.
My aunt seemed really anxious and tense and she even grabbed my arm quite hard during take-off. My cousin, however, really seemed to enjoy himself. The weather was good, although not perfect, as the flight was a little shaky due to some strong side winds. After about 45 minutes I became aware that my aunt was moving her legs quite a lot as we were sitting really close together and our legs were kinda touching each other. This went on for a few minutes until she even started to knock her knees together for a while. It is quite loud on the plane and we were all wearing headphones, but she then leaned over and whispered in my ear that she really has to go to the bathroom and I could tell my brother to "fly a little faster to get back home quickly". I told my brother and he said that we would be back in around 30-45 minutes, but he can't really fly much faster. My aunt seemed to accept her fate for the next 10 minutes and looked outside the window. Then suddenly she obviously had to press her legs together hard several times and she now looked really upset and desperate. After a few more minutes she announced: "Guys, I'm really sorry about this, but I really really have to go to the bathroom now and I'm not gonna make it until we are back home. Can we maybe find another airport where we can? Please, please, it really is an emergency. I will also pay for it if necessary!" 
My cousin seemed really annoyed and ashamed for his mum, but of course my brother checked the options, but there seemed to be no airport much closer than where we were heading anyway. When he told my aunt, she did not really want to believe it and said: "Pleaaaaaassssse, pleease, we need to find an option! I'm serious, I cannot hold this much longer!"
Another five minutes of squirming later, my aunt had tears in her eyes and said, almost crying: "Guys, I don't care anymore. Do we have anything that I could pee into? It really is about to come out in my pants!!!" She now had one hand between her legs, maybe even grabbing her crotch. My brother asked her if she is serious and then said that there must be some kind of bucket behind our seats. I looked for it and indeed, there was a little white bucket with a screwdriver and some other things in it. I emptied it and handed it to my aunt, who immediately took off her shoes, climbed the seat right next to me with one hand between her jeans legs, squatting position with her ass facing me and trying to get her jeans of while in this position and the plane shaking a little. She waited a little, maybe trying to regain her composure, then pulled of her dark jeans and her black panties in one go and full on started pissing into the bucket about one second later. It was surreal as she was just 20 to 30 centimetres next to me. After only maybe 5 or 6 seconds, everything was over. She did not even ask for a tissue, but just pulled her panties and jeans up again, although I could see about two drops of pee dripping on her seat. She then sat in her seat again, put the bucket between her legs and said laughing: "Really sorry about this, boys, but I really could not hold it. This was maybe the most embarrassing thing I've ever done, but at least I'm feeling much better now!"
 

As a guy I could in my teens and twenties, but not after. Now it's one and done for a while.

Hello! Yes, after long last (almost 4 years) I’m back with another exciting and highly detailed story to share! Actually many, many stories to share. You see– I never actually stopped putting on my special shows when I disappeared from this site so long ago. I just stopped writing about them. But I think now’s the time for a comeback! Since my absence I’ve indulged myself in this fetish liberally, and have amassed maybe 100 stories or more, though they have yet to be written down. What you’re about to read is one of my most daring and most memorable shows yet. It happened before all of the pandemic craziness, and the names of the people involved are obviously fake. This involves a (very minor) traffic accident (not my fault, btw!) so it’s also not something I’d be comfortable publishing were it not from a couple of years ago now. I’ve also noticed that this site now strongly discourages the kind of public behavior I routinely engage in, so to prevent this from being deleted or flagged or something like that let me give the following disclaimer: this is all made up! Yeah that’s right– none of it really happened so don’t even think of deleting it on moral grounds. I would never dream about doing any of this in real life and neither should you. So there! Without further ado:
I was on my way to a Walmart one fateful Sunday evening, ready to put on a spectacular piss show, when an old sedan rear-ended me. My pee desperation levels were maxed out, so when my car lurched with a loud thud I almost lost control in my seat. It was only a small ding, but you know how car accidents can be— adrenaline immediately began surging from its glands and I was gripped with that hyper-awareness that makes the rest of your conscious life seem like a foggy malaise. Without thinking I pulled into the nearest parking lot, noting how empty it was. The small shopping center contained a Dentists office, closed, a Chinese restaurant, also closed, and a mattress store with the light still on. The old sedan rolled in after me and I caught a glimpse of the lady who would end up witnessing one of my greatest shows of all time.
It was the dead of winter at the time, and I was appropriately clad in warm apparel: light blue, high-waisted Levi’s, its fabric soft and thick and tight as hell, cinched with a large belt, a cropped cream sweater and some cute brown boots with knitted leg warmers coming up to my knee. No panties. I got out of my car and rushed over to my soon-to-be antagonist to ask if she was ok. She was a stout black lady with a disheveled wig, an enormous bosom, and a mean look in her eye. Her teenage daughter was with her. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, “You?”
“I’m fine.” No sense in trying to hide the obvious. “God, I am about to piss my pants though!” I reflexively shoved my hand into my crotch and cinched my knees together to buy some time.
“It’d serve you right, lady! What the hell were you doing back there??” I was shocked. It would serve me right? To piss my pants?? I’m always unreasonably aroused when my bladder’s full to bursting, and this woman’s callous words suddenly reminded me of what I had left the house to do in the first place. This was as good of an opportunity for a wetting show as any other, I figured. Hell it was better— my captive audience would apparently relish the sight! At the same time, though, the sheer gal of this lady took me aback. She was the one who hit me after all. I won’t go into details, but just know that in the end a well-placed security camera exonerated me. My innocence in the matter was plain enough, so it was shocking that this woman (I’ll call her Denise) was going to try and argue otherwise.
“Excuse me?” I guffawed. We exchanged some heated words while assessing the damage and trying to figure out what happened. I paced back and forth in small, anxious steps during our conversation, shamelessly squeezing my pussy and bending my knees at random intervals to hold back the flood gates. Denise watched this with a cruel smirk. “Whatevuh, pee pee dansuh,” she chided. That’s ‘pee pee dancer’ for those of you who can’t decipher Brooklyn dialect (not that we were anywhere near New York). She obviously felt very clever for thinking of it and would refer to me as that for the rest of our encounter. It turned me on like crazy but for appearances sake I pretended to brush it off.
Despite the damage only being a dent on my bumper, it became very clear to me that this was not going to be resolved without involving insurance. Denise agreed “Call 911 then and lets get a report!” So make the call I did.
While speaking to the dispatcher I noticed Denise head to the mattress store entrance. An employee was fiddling with the door, and she spoke with him briefly in a hushed voice and slipped in. It was such a minor detail— at the time I hardly even noticed. It took a few minutes to give the dispatcher all the necessary info, and after confirming that an officer was on their way I dutifully called my husband to fill him in on the situation. He detected the hints of desperation in my voice and asked me if I was going to hold it together— not if I could, mind you, but if I was going to choose to. (He was out of town visiting family at the time, so he couldn’t be as candid as he normally would be) I smiled at that and told him probably not. He laughed. Denise strode confidently out of the store around this time, catching my eye and smirking. “Well fill me in later. Have a good time,” my husband said and we exchanged loving pleasantries before hanging up.
“They got a nice bathroom in that store,” Denise called over with heavy notes of smug satisfaction. “What?” I responded stupidly. “Yeah I was lucky I caught that guy. He was just locking up.” I looked over. Sure enough the open sign was unlit. Then, just at that moment, all the lights in the store turned off. I couldn’t believe the cheek of this lady. The nerve. A few seconds of awkward silence passed by while I stared in disbelief and tried to parse out my next moves. It goes without saying that I was incredibly turned on by this point. I mean I wasn’t planning on finding a restroom anyways, and here Denise was gleefully pointing out that the last one near me was closed. Well if she wanted a show then I’d give her one!
“No no no no no!” I shuddered, walking desperately over to the store. I doubled over and grimaced, once again shoving my fingers under my crotch, then frantically tried to open the door. Locked, obviously. Denise let out an evil cackle. “What is wrong with you!?” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell him I needed to use it too!”
“Oops. I fuhgaht.” Then she erupted with another burst of laughter. Her daughter, leaning against the car and staring at her phone, chuckled too. Out of all the daring wetting stunts I’d pulled, they were never in front of someone who had expressly wanted to see it happen (apart from my husband, but he doesn’t really count). It was clear at this point that Denise did, just to witness what she perceived to be cosmic justice. I carefully walked back to my car and stood with one hand over my face and another jammed into my groin, knees cinched together, looking positively distressed. It took a few minutes for the officer to come.
He was a young guy, kinda scrawny for a police officer, and had clearly been working a long shift. We gave him our licenses and insurance cards, and separately gave him our accounts of the accident. Denise took an extra long time with her obnoxious retelling. When it was my turn he looked at me sympathetically— I was squirming through the whole thing. “Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll try to make this quick.” It was a sweet gesture. Little did he know I wasn’t planning on holding out. Once he got all the information down he went back to his car to write up the report.
Meanwhile Denise decided that now was a great time to Facetime one of her friends and have a loud conversation over speaker phone. We were leaning against our cars and facing each other with two parking spaces of distance between us, so I could hear every word.
Now’s a good time, I thought. My legs were closed tight— an obvious camel toe was on display thanks to all my crotch digging. I threw my head back and clenched my fists, then muttered pathetically “Oh god I can’t hold it... Oh fuck…”  
Denise interrupted her inane babble, reeking with cruel anticipation “hold on— check out pee pee dansuh over here. She about to piss huhself!” She held up her phone camera at me and smirked. Her daughter, standing next to her, even looked up from her phone for once. I felt a warm trickle teeter just at the edge of my urethra.
A loud burst rushed into my pants. “Uhhhh!” I shuttered. It was a forceful gush, but I cut it off quick, my chest heaving, and looked down to inspect.
An obvious stain had spread up my crotch and around my inner thighs. It was small, but dark and glistening. Denise cackled menacingly, and chided some indecipherable commentary to her friend on the other line. I even heard her friend over speaker phone go “oh my god.”
I sniffled and stammered meekly while covering my face (secretly loving every moment), “Oh shit… please… please don’t video me…”
“Video you? Hah that’s a good idea!” Denise barked at her daughter, “Clarissuh! Get this on camrah! Could be used as evidence.” It was just too perfect. Sure enough, Clarissa raised her phone and blatantly began filming me, and Denise kept her phone trained on me for her friend to see. I shoved my hand into my still damp crotch and moaned.
“Uhh… uhhh…” Then I let loose at full blast. Molten urine started spraying loudly against the inside of my jeans. “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…”
My clenched hand forced the stain rapidly up my fly all the way to my belt and then across to my pockets. I could feel surging warmth climb up my ass crack too. I watched as it spread, glistening, to the outer edge of my thighs and erupt out of the side seam of my jeans in a thick, golden arch, splattering on to the ground. I removed my hand and held it away from myself to let the piss trickle off my fingers. Then I uncovered my face and looked up, wide-eyed, straight at Denise. She stared smugly in a triumphant pose, enjoying every moment, and smiled. “Ooo you nasty. Serves you right, bitch.” I looked down at myself again.
The stain began cascading down my legs, streaming almost on the outside of the tightly wrapped denim, and started soaking into my knitted leg warmers. “Oh my god,” I sensually shuddered. It felt so good to let loose at max pressure. Orgasmic even, with all that hot piss gushing over my clit. Hopefully my arousal wasn’t too obvious. A thick cloud of steam started to rise out of the massive, ever-darkening stain. I looked up into Clarissa’s camera, wondering if I would end up on her snapchat or twitter. Pee continued enveloping me in my jeans. Then the police officer suddenly appeared.
“Are you alright, ma’am?” he looked at me, mortified, and still pissing a torrent.
“Yeah, I… I just couldn’t hold it.” I sniffled, trying to look as helpless as possible. Mr. policeman watched in disbelief as pee started to pour from the tops of my boots. Then he noticed Denise and her daughter. “What the hell are you filming her for?”
“Clarissuh keep that on!” Denise barked. “Listen I know my rights! I can film whoevuh I want! This is evidence!” Her friend on the other line chimed in “oooh she steamin’!”
The officer stepped between us to block their view. “Jesus christ show some decency, will ya!” He turned to me and asked if I was going to be ok. I nodded my head, noticing the camera strapped to his shirt and wondering how much footage he had captured of my accident too. “Alright well I still need a few minutes to complete my report. You don’t need to engage with them at all.” He took one last timid glance down. “Let me know if you need anything.” And with that he went back to his car.
By this point I had finished peeing and was standing in a small puddle. My leg warmers and boots were containing most of it (not to mention almost every inch of my super wet and steamy jeans.) I leaned back against my car feeling utterly relieved and quivering in the sweet afterglow, warm all over despite the evening winter chill. Then Denise, with her impossibly smug face, interjected, “All bettuh, pee pee dansuh?” I glowered at her. “Ha that looked like it felt good!” Clarissa even piped in, “Oh my gooooood!” Wheezy laughter was coming out of Denise’s phone, still trained on me. It’s disembodied voice beckoned to another faceless stranger, “Hey come here, come here. Look at what Denise seein’” I just stood there and face-palmed (with my piss-soaked hand, accidentally!!), breathing heavy, red in the face.
After another minute of humiliating commentary I took a deep breath and wiped my hand on one of the few dry spots still on my jeans, and my now wet face with the neck of my sweater. My wet clothing had quickly gotten exceedingly cold, and begged to be removed. So I walked to the trunk of my car, pulled the towel out of my gym-bag and placed it over the drivers seat. Pee loudly squelched in my boots with every step. Denise suddenly said something that chilled me and turned me on all over again. “Man, haha, send me that video Clarissuh.” She was no longer filming. “I’m puttin’ that up on Facebook!” I wondered briefly if I was about to become an infamous internet icon.
I sat on the towel with my legs dangling out the car door and started peeling off my boots and socks. Piss poured out of each boot when I upturned them. My socks were heavy, completely drenched. Denise and her posse continued to lambast me. Finally I’d had enough, “What is your problem, lady?!?!”
“Next time why don’t you just piss yuh pants, huh? Instead of driving around all desperate!” So that’s how she wanted to paint it. Talk about desperate.
I snapped back, hot tears in my eyes “Both of these accidents are because of you! You’re inconsiderate and rude!” Just then, during my righteous indignation, a pleasant sensation throbbed in my nether regions. Now relaxed and in a sitting posture, I realized that I still had to go. “God,” I sniffled, “I still have to go…”
“Haaaahah! Yeah? Whats stoppin’ you??” Denise was having the time of her life. So was I. I stood up with my bare feet squared away, my legs parted slightly, and looked her dead in the eye. Determined. Defiant. Then I flexed my fingers, and my pelvic muscles, and felt a strong flood of piss fill up my jeans. My clit, previously numb against the freezing fabric, was once again submerged in a molten current. I involuntarily gasped with every wave of pleasure, my mouth opening more with every shuddered breath. The denim glistened and steamed again in its wake, and with no fabric dry enough to absorb it, pee began to gush out of the ankles of my jeans, noisily splattering onto the pavement below. “Damn, bitch, you nasty.” A much larger puddle was growing around my feet now. My second wind lasted about 30 seconds, much longer than I had anticipated. Finally the steady stream died down to a dribble, then to a slow drip.
“There,” I sighed heavily with relief, exhausted. Denise and her daughter, staring in fascination, didn’t know quite what to say to that.
I sat down in my car and closed the door, content to wait for the officer to finish his report. The temptation to pamper my swollen clit was strong, so in the privacy of my car I rubbed against the crotch inseam of my jeans with a straight face. Mr. Policeman talked to Denise first, as briefly as could be done and then promptly bid them good day. Then he walked up to me (unknowingly standing in my pee puddle), and handed me back my ID and insurance with his own business card wedged between them. He tried not to stare at the pants-sized stain while he went through his spiel. We parted amicably. He drove away shortly after that, leaving me alone in the parking lot pretending to have a phone call with my husband. Naturally, I proceeded to tear open my damp button fly and furiously masturbate. It didn’t take long to reach a paralyzing climax.
That concludes my comeback story. I hope you liked it! Before you ask: no I never was able to find that video online, despite obsessively searching on every major platform. I suppose they thought better of posting it– maybe they figured out it made them look like total jerks! Or maybe it only exists on some private board devoid of any omo enthusiasts like us. Whatever its fate I hope it doesn’t surface any time soon. In hindsight I regret doing something like that on camera, as lovely as I’m sure it made me look. Sorry but I don’t think I could ever share that side of me online in a non-anonymous way– writing under pseudonym is about the farthest I’ll probably ever go. Anyways, share all of your compliments and spread the word about my return. This was one of the hottest wetting experiences I’ve ever had– to be honest nothing really tops it. Nevertheless, I look forward to publishing more stories for you guys! Until next time!
 

I've read a lot of content about wearing padding so a person can wet where ever they want, but my interest lies more in the desperation side of things. Lately I've had a lot of thoughts about holding in public while wearing a pull-up. I have a fairly large bladder and my first leak can happen a few hours before my bladder gives up. If I was only wearing underwear these leaks would be visible and I would want to go home. The pull-up is there to catch any accidental leaks so I can keep being in public, but that doesn't give me permission to let anything out intentionally.
Imagine grocery shopping: trying to act casual as you push a shopping cart, but walking is getting more difficult by the minute because your body is trying to potty dance. You have to keep a straight face when you leak and regaining control is so difficult because of the warm wet spot in your pull-up all snug against you. Standing in line at the check out, talking to the cashier while knowing you have leaked even though no one else can tell. Trying not to jiggle and squirm as you're walking past the restrooms at the front of the store.

Does anyone else enjoy this type of desperate situation?