PeerPressure

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PeerPressure last won the day on April 8

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About PeerPressure

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  1. PeerPressure

    An Abandoned Building of Unrivaled Freedom

    Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed it enough to come back!!
  2. PeerPressure

    Pants Peeing and Puddles Where Parked

    Thank you!! I'm glad you liked it! Thanks!! You can count on more in the future!! Thank you!! I think I would be too completely and utterly shocked to respond like a rational human being! Haha!
  3. PeerPressure

    An Abandoned Building of Unrivaled Freedom

    Thank you!! Yes! Maybe this sounds a little stupid, but for the longest time I didn't really notice how much holding in itself aroused me. I think I even mentioned in one of my other posts that holding isn't so much my thing, but the more I play around with it, the more I realize just how stimulating it is! It really depends though. I love the feeling that comes with holding, but there's something about wetting/peeing that I really adore. There's a real thrill and a rush of naughtiness in its taboo nature. Also I feel there's an intense sense of intimacy with wetting/peeing, probably due to their close association with genitalia and how privately society treats such matters. Thankfully they all go hand-in-hand! I hope that answers your question! Sorry for rambling so much!
  4. PeerPressure

    Most Well-Written Omo Story?

    Aw, thanks!! I'm glad you enjoy it!
  5. Heyya!! It occurred to me recently that I haven't done a proper wetting in ages...so I changed that today! Hope you all enjoy!! If you're just here for the pee action and don't care about the buildup, jump to paragraph 6! When I got home from work today, I discovered I needed to run to the store for groceries, but really wasn't in the mood for it. I was, however, in the mood for some pee fun so I came up with a compromise: I'd suck it up and go to the store, but with a challenge. I would chug at least two bottles of water before going in and I wasn't allowing myself to use the store restrooms. Suddenly feeling less down about grocery shopping, I changed out of my work clothes and into some tight jeans, a cute white top, and my designated "pee shoes". Not yet sure whether I'd end up wetting or make it back from the store without a drop in my panties, I moved the towel from my car trunk (is it bad that I keep one there for these occasions? ) to my passenger seat as a precaution. Then I grabbed a couple water bottles and set off, intentionally neglecting to visit the toilet beforehand. At about 6:15, I pulled into the store parking lot, cracked open a bottle, and downed it quickly. I was pretty thirsty, so the first went down pretty easily, but I struggled with the second, barely managing to choke down half of it. Nearly feeling nauseous from the sudden bombardment of fluids, I opted to cut my stomach some slack instead of sticking to my original plan. A bottle and a half would have to do. Excited, I climbed out of my car, water slashing around my innards. For the first 30 or so minutes, it didn't feel like a challenge at all. I intentionally stalled a little simply because I was worried I'd finish shopping before having any fun. Not long after, my fears were laid to rest. It was probably about 6:50 when the first inklings of urge were making themselves known. I pushed them to the back of my mind and carried on with my task, humming softly to myself like nothing was unusual. Another 10 minutes and I was at the point where I'd normally excuse myself to the ladies' room for the sake of comfort, but I wasn't aiming to be comfortable today . Seemingly only another five minutes passed and I was shocked at how mercilessly my kidneys were shoveling fluid at my bladder. Beginning to recognize the mistake I'd made in stalling, I picked up the pace, now hoping I'd be able to get out in time! Minutes ticked by and I began to notice myself fidgeting a little. The excitement was building. I felt little bursts of adrenaline, pumped by the speeding thud thud thud of my heart, and I imagined them coinciding with spurts of urine into my quickly-filling bladder. A sense of naughtiness filled me as I looked around at the other shoppers, blissfully unaware of how intensely sensual every pulsating second was. This pushed me even harder. Desperation was on the horizon and I was going to meet it. I stepped into the fruit isle and, after glancing around to ensure nobody could see, danced a little in place, trying to relieve the pressure. It didn't help. Quickly, I loaded my cart, hardly taking the time to consider if I were actually out of what I was buying. Finally, I was finished. I glanced at my watch. 7:20. By then, I hadn't merely met desperation. It consumed me. I raced to the self-check out as quickly as my fluid-overloaded state permitted without leaking all over the floor. My heart dropped when I arrived and saw a small line. By now, I couldn't even conceal my state. I'm sure I either looked like I was going to have a massive anxiety attack and crumple onto the floor in fetal position, or someone more perceptive might accurately guess that I was about to catastrophically explode the contents of my bladder everywhere. When it seemed nobody was looking I discreetly (probably not nearly as discreetly as I hoped) pushed my hand into my crotch, bouncing up and down all the while. Honestly, I probably looked like one of the characters from The Sims when they're desperate! ...Beep. Beep. Beep. Please check your basket and scan additional items now. I wanted to scream! After an eternity--Really only 30 or so seconds. Trust me. I was watching my watch as though it could make a difference--it was my turn. Every tick...tick...tick... of the second hand was drip...drip...drip... into my bladder. I scanned my items furiously, eying the nearby ladies room jealously, wondering if I should just give it up. No. I turned my gaze back to the items I was practically violently throwing into my cart. Beep. Beep. Beep. Please check your bask-- I hit the button before it could finish and ran my card through before it fully processed. Suddenly, I thought I felt a dampness between my legs. Mortified, my heart seized as I looked down and patted myself down there. Nope. Nothing. My mind was playing tricks on me. COME ON. I muttered exasperatedly under my breath, afraid the next time would be real... ...FINALLY. I didn't even remember to grab my receipt. I gripped my cart, fingers turning white, and hobbled as quickly as I could for the exit. The automatic doors could hardly open quickly enough as I barrelled through, my bladder threatening to give out any second. If I can just get to my car. I'm right. there. behind. that. truck... As I staggered to my car, I didn't even have time to make sure I was out of sight. Crying--even now I'm not sure why, whether agony, relief, embarrassment, pleasure, or some divine amalgamation of the four--I threw myself against the driver side door as a flood of warmth gushed between my legs. This time it was real. As I buried my face in my arms and the thick, brunette swaths of my hair, the searing hiss of urine jetting into my instantly-soaked panties tickled my ears. The tantalizing rush teased my lady bits and swiftly overtook my butt. I trembled, resigning myself to the inexorable torrent below. The confines of my panties were no match for the cascades that soon crawled down quivering thighs, carving intricate rivers toward the ocean of pavement. I let out an involuntary moan and shivered, quite separately from the shaking. My knees seemed to give out and I dropped into a squat, still afraid to open my eyes or lift my gaze from the haven of my arms and hair. I silently prayed nobody could see me--or if they could, that they wouldn't dare approach. Meanwhile, the stream of urine now pooling in the butt of my jeans and leaking onto the pavement below with a gentle patter showed little sign of relenting. Adrenaline coursed through me and the sheer beating of my heart seemed to force the pee out. Wiping the tears that soaked my face as thoroughly as the pee soaked my crotch, I opened my eyes to the blurry world, begging for nobody to be witnessing this. Miraculously, nobody was. I had heard the occasional car drive by, but nobody seemed to notice the woman peeing herself between her car and a large truck in the middle of the parking lot. I gave thanks and fell to a sitting position, my bladder stores finally approaching depletion. Sniffling, I looked around and found myself sitting in the midst of a massive puddle, soaked from my crotch to my socks. Still quivering, I smiled weakly to myself, realizing how badly I missed this. Everything finally came to a spurting end...sort of. I was hydrated enough that it seemed to replenish before I could truly finish. Finally I called it good enough and climbed to my knees, the puddle beneath me tinkling gently as I rose. My jeans clung to me jealously, emphasizing nearly every detail of my legs. Then I looked up and realized I'd fully soaked myself without even loading my groceries up... I sat in silence for a brief moment, cursing myself and pondering how to load my car and replace the cart without arousing suspicion with my completely saturated groin, butt, and...well...everything waist-down. With no better option, I wrapped my towel around my waist, no doubt looking completely mental, loaded my car, prayed I wouldn't run into anyone I know, and returned the cart to a nearby rack. Trying to shield my tear-streaked face, I didn't look around at anyone, but I could feel the strange looks as "this crazy lady was walking through the parking lot with a towel around her waist". I returned to my car, emptied my bladder again, a several-second stream rewarming the now-cold crotch of my panties and teasing my ladies bits even more, and climbed into my car, the towel still strategically wrapped around my lower half. By the time I returned to my apartment, I had to pee again. Not nearly as badly of course, but it was definitely there. Sneakily, I pulled in behind the dumpster, where nobody could peek out of a window at me. Quickly, I removed the towel, jumped out, and wet myself yet again. Then I replaced the towel, drove to my usual parking spot, and made a mad dash to my door so I could change before someone could inquire about my ridiculous circumstances. It was tough to restrain myself from tending to things "down there" before bringing my groceries in, but I managed to refrain long enough to get everything in and start up a hot (in more ways than one ) shower.
  6. PeerPressure

    female DIY Fly

    Hey all!! Sorry it's been so long! I'm still alive; I'm just super busy and haven't made time to share any stories for a while, but that ends now! If you just want to get straight to the peeing, skip to paragraph 5! A few weeks ago, my friends and I went to a local music festival. The event lasted most of the day, but we arrived much later, around 4:30PM or so. The sun was still fairly high in the sky and it. was. hot. Thankfully, drinks were abundant--a blessing I quickly took advantage of. The first hour and a half were fairly uneventful. My posse and I enjoyed the music, the atmosphere, and each other's company. All the while, I nursed whatever fluids I could find. Around 6ish, the repercussions were making themselves known. Being a crowded event with a fair bit of drinking, I knew I'd need to grab a spot in the porta potty line pretty quickly or I'd be in trouble. Being the fool I am, I put it off for about 20 minutes before handing my purse to a friend for safekeeping and pushing my way through the throng. The line wasn't difficult to find and my heart sank when I saw the multitudes seemingly lined up to the horizon. I silently cursed myself for not having the foresight to wear a skirt so I could sit somewhere and quietly wet myself in the grass with no one the wiser. Alas, my lamentably poor planning relegated my ill-fated bladder and me to the latrine line, eternal. I grabbed a spot in line. My situation was not yet urgent, but my bladder was making itself known. As I slowly progressed forward, I surveyed the many others who suffered the same wait. I estimated 2/3 or so were women and I wondered if most men simply found a secluded bush or tree somewhere. Most of the people in line were chatting or grooving to the music, but a handful seemed to be anxiously awaiting their turn to relieve themselves. One girl in particular seemed to be trying (and failing) to discreetly fidget, bouncing from one foot to the other, occasionally pressing her legs together, and frequently checking her phone. Ages seemed to pass and she was fortunate enough to get a turn before she burst all over herself. My turn was still quite a while off and I began fearing I'd end up like her...only less fortunate. I began fantasizing about the freedom of simply letting loose right there in line. The rush of warmth into my panties soaking my butt, my thighs, and making its way down to my socks and shoes. The shocked faces of bystanders as a grown woman soaked herself in front of them. My face turning red and heating up with embarrassment as my friends gazed in disbelief at the dark patch overcoming my groin as it spread to consume my shorts. The scenario aroused me terribly...and wonderfully...I gripped my hamstrings tightly (though hopefully discreetly), trying unsuccessfully to calm myself down. I wished with all my heart I could simply pee and rub myself through my wet shorts. Silently, I said a prayer of thanks that I'm not a guy who would have to conceal an erection while fighting an ever-filling bladder. This viciously wonderful cycle continued until it was violently shattered by the woman before me turning around to gripe about the wait. Frustrated and slightly flustered, I composed myself and concurred with her complaints. We conversed casually (as well as I could as I fought to stay focused) until we finally reached the front of the line. By then I was fighting the urge to dance around in desperation. I knew I was shuffling around visibly and honestly, I didn't care. If I weren't already at the front of the line, I would've considered making my way back to the parking lot and relieving myself between some parked cars--chancing accidentally flashing any unfortunate passersby. Thankfully, however, the wait would soon be over. One of the porta potty doors swung open as a guy emerged and went to rejoin the festival. The woman in front of me nearly ran to claim the vacant latrine, as if someone would steal it away. When she opened the door, however, she nearly stumbled back as if she had been punched and her fervor quickly disappeared. She turned and made her way back to the line saying, "There's no way in hell I'm using that. I'll piss myself first!" I looked at her questioningly as she reclaimed her place in line, but seeing an opportunity to eliminate the urgent pleas of my bladder, I decided to investigate. As I opened the door, the smell washed over me like a wave. It wasn't really the typical stench of a porta potty. Of course, there was some of that, but it was mainly masked by the oppressive odor of concentrated urine. Examination quickly revealed the source. It looked as though some guy (or several) had "whipped it out" and let loose while spinning in circles and bouncing up and down! The warped and dented floor harbored small puddles of urine, the toilet seat was flooded, the half-used roll of toilet paper was sopping wet, and the walls were dripping! I shot a glance back to the lady, who gave me the classic "told-ya-so" look. I shrugged, mouthing the words, "I've gotta go" as the music in the background pulsed through the air. My bladder seemed to quiver with every beat of the drum as I entered the porta potty and the door slammed behind me. The lock seemed to be the only thing not dripping with pee. I slid it and shuffled from foot to foot as I began assessing my options. "There's no way in hell I'm using that", I mumbled the words of the lady as I looked at the toilet seat. I longingly considered the urinal, but figured I wouldn't be able to get close enough without planting a leg into some stranger's urine either on the wall or the raised platform of the toilet seat. Not one to give up easily, I disregarded the option to go wait for another latrine to open up. It's not like I practice peeing standing for nothing. I thought to myself. But how? I'm not risking taking off my shorts in here. If I brush them against the floor, I'll be wearing someone else's pee for the rest of the night! With that, I stood in front of the toilet seat and tested to see how far I could spread my legs. Not too bad if I can pee around my shorts. I considered dropping my shorts to my knees and giving it a shot, but I feared I'd dribble straight down. At that point, I would've been better off simply wetting myself. Hmm... I reached for the left leg of my shorts and pulled it aside. Perfect! They were just short and stretchy enough to clear my pubic mound. I readjusted to pull my panties aside, revealing my lady bits. It was almost like a DIY fly! I struggled a bit to adequately spread my labia while holding my shorts and panties clear of the line of fire. It was tough! I repositioned myself so I was standing as close to the toilet hole as possible without coming into contact with the raised area around it. I thrust my hips forward as far as reasonably possible and bent my knees slightly. Finally, I decided I was in a satisfactorily awkward stance (or just really had to pee) and muttered, "Well...here goes. Fire away." under my breath. It was almost instantaneous. A jet of pee shot out and noisily splattered the back of the toilet seat, dispelling a small mist. I adjusted slightly and managed to direct my stream into the toilet! I let out a long sigh as relief washed over me and the liquid below tinkled joyfully. I proudly looked down and cracked a huge smile as I admired the steady stream propelling from between my legs. I can't believe this is actually working! Several long, successful seconds passed, but I felt the fingers spreading my labia slowly slipping. I adjusted slightly, which skewed my aim. Urine splattered the side of the toilet seat and a small trickle began creeping down my left leg. I adjusted enough to stop the flow down my leg, but it was at the expense of the toilet seat. Again, my pee spattered loudly against the plastic as I frantically tried to aim. After I contributed a significant amount of my own bladder contents to the already-present flood of the seat, I managed to regain control. The tinkling of the fluid continued until I began to lose pressure. As the stream died, I began showering the front of the raised platform and adding to the puddles on the floor until the action came to a dribbling rest. The excitement of my (almost) success was overcome by the arousal it summoned. Still not fully cooled down from my fantasies while I was in line, I seized advantage of my current privacy. Pee still dripping from my vulva, I inserted my fingers and massaged myself tenderly, closing my eyes and surrendering myself to feeling. I was searching for satiety of my sensual desires, but every caress heightened each sensation. I suddenly felt as though I were ablaze--every nerve tingling and pulsing with the beat of my heart. Urine mixed with other fluids and my breathing grew shallow and rapid. My legs felt as though they would give way. I wished more than anything for reality to fade away, that I may melt into the pleasure, but the throbbing of the music wouldn't let me escape. Stymied--even resentful--I reopened my eyes to my unpleasant surroundings. I brushed as much of the urine from my vulva as I could, each contact pulsing with threats of stealing me away into a realm of pleasure. I briskly ran my hand down my leg, dispelling the few remnants of my poor aim. I felt tense. A thin sweat covered my skin. I would've done nearly anything to satisfy my carnal desires. Surrendering to the context of the occasion however, I replaced my panties and shorts, the fabric now feeling like sandpaper on my tender skin. I composed myself and braced to re-enter the real world. I finally reunited with my friends and we enjoyed the rest of the evening, though I remained secretly frustrated until I arrived home that night. You can be sure as heck I made up for the wait
  7. PeerPressure

    Peeing Through the Fly? ...If Only I Were a Guy

    I don't really use my labia to aim per se, rather I try to clear my stream of obstructions. I've had some success with this (though not while wearing pants haha). I don't really see how pushing things together down there would do anything other than make a huge mess down my legs and all over my hands, haha. Hope that helps!
  8. PeerPressure

    Most Exciting Place for a Girl to Pee?

    Thank you everyone for the ideas!! I'll have to give some of these a shot--and revisit some old favorites!
  9. The title pretty much says it all! Ladies, where's the most exciting place you've ever peed (or fantasized of peeing), and guys, where's your favorite place for a girl to pee?
  10. PeerPressure

    An Abandoned Building of Unrivaled Freedom

    Hehe thank you!! You should give it a try if you can! It's incredible!
  11. PeerPressure

    Peeing Through the Fly? ...If Only I Were a Guy

    Not at all! But I consider soaking my pants a win in itself
  12. PeerPressure

    Peeing Through the Fly? ...If Only I Were a Guy

    A few weeks ago, I think, but in the shower instead of at the toilet because I didn't want to clean up the mess, which there ended up being a lot of haha.
  13. PeerPressure

    Peeing Through the Fly? ...If Only I Were a Guy

    Despite the frustration, the failures really are a lot of fun, hehe. I've seen those! I may get one sometime just for the fun of it and convenience when wetting isn't an option, but I want the pride of being able to get the same results au naturel . I also have this fantasy of showing off to a surprised boyfriend sometime haha.
  14. PeerPressure

    Not Making a Pit Stop

    Thank you!! And yessss, I wish that too! I don't dare share this stuff with anyone outside this site. It'd be amazing to have someone to enjoy it with in person.
  15. PeerPressure

    Not Making a Pit Stop

    You got it! I actually live alone, so no need to hide anything! In fact, I'll sometimes just let loose where I'm standing at home! I don't do it super often though because I get tired of having to clean up the mess all the time.