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HissGenerator

Damp Member
  • Posts

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About HissGenerator

  • Rank
    Damp

Personal Information

  • My pronouns are..
    they/them

My Kinks

  • I'm into..
    Bathroom Control
    Diapers
    Hyper wetting
    Crossdressing
    Stomach bulging

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HissGenerator's Achievements

  1. Just a short post about my excitement for getting new jeans and the wetting imagination running wild. ————————————— Getting a new pair of jeans is such an exciting thing to do. I love Omo, but I really love wearing jeans; so when I combine them the results are just phenomenal. Just walking into a store and finding some comfy, stretchy, skinny jeans makes me giddy with excitement — internally, that is — because the next thought is: “Ooo, I wonder how it feels when it hugs my skin, and how my painted legs will look?” Then it’ll be: “Oh man, how amazing would feel to see the clinging tightness gently growth hot and dark, watching the rivulets burst out and streak them dark?” And lastly, and a more recent practice I’ve been doing is, aside from feeling myself up and down post-wetting, brushing my slowly-growing-cold legs, is lathering them up with soap and just appreciating the look. Then shoving the shower-head underneath and turning it on, watching the water ooze the soap away like pee. How do folks feel about jeans? Got any creative ways of wetting them?
  2. It might be a combination: the omo, the vulnerability, the guy’s appearance. It might’ve even been the fact that being in such a vulnerable situation and treated with nothing but respect by that guy just did something for you. I would presume that being helped in such a way automatically makes anyone who gives such a helping hand ten times more attractive. I’m straight and into women, but don’t fail to recognize that guy is an awesome dude for doing that for you.
  3. Your description of desperation really highlights its urgency. I love it. May come back here a few times for desperation inspiration when writing them. Cheers.
  4. Here’s another story. All characters are adults in college, though I don’t mention their ages. I just want to make that clear, since some of the behaviors of characters are immature. ———————————————————— Hiking with My Crush Gosh, Casey is so.. pretty.. Her small, cute olive nose and cheek bones lightly scattered with faint-brown freckles. My hearts beckons out of my chest just thinking about giving it a peck. And her hair: gosh, when her white smile stretches from ear to ear during her easily-induced chuckles, her light-brown tendrils unlatching from behind her ears to the front of her face, framing it as her hair falls to her jaws. Oooo, I don’t even know which part of her is better?! How cou— “Tony?! Tony?!” “H-huh, w-w-whu—“ “I said: ‘Are you ready to go, Tony?—already lost, why am I not surprised..” “Oh yeah, of course! I’m ready: ready Freddy, right Casey?” “Gosh, you’re so lame..” “Okay — here’s the thing — while we’re hiking, you stay all the way over there, yes, over there by Kenny, and I’ll be over here, next to Roger; capeesh?” “Wel—I.. I was thin—“ “Alright guys! Everything’s packed—Elliot don’t forget the map like last time, got freakin’ damn-near lost because of you—“ “Right, says the man who said he knew the trail by heart; don’t worry, Roger, I’ll make sure to totally forget the map just to rub it in your face.” “—the only thing that’s going to be rubbed is your face in the dirt when I shove it into the ground like last time; just get the damn map!” Gosh those two never let up, always bantering and butting their egos together. That shit gets so annoying at times — like when Elliot forgot the map: they kept going back and forth the whole hike, trying to get in the last clever diss; until when we reached the pond and Roger impatiently shoved Elliot into it.. totally wasted the time needed to cover the entire trail and had to go back to the start before it got extremely dark. At least I got to stand next to Casey whilst we watched them wrestle in the pond. Man, she was wearing these light-grey girdle leggings, which made it almost impossible not to look at her perfectly slim thighs: tanned-olive and slim, and her upper inseams almost touching; I tell myself constantly not to stare, but sometimes the trail inclines and I’m right behind her, so my eyes have hardly anywhere else to look upon. Just being next to her— “TONY?! Come on, what is wrong with you!?” “Ahh!—SSSS—why the hell are you punching me for?! “I keep calling and calling, and you just stand there.. lost.. What are ya, deaf?!” Ugh, as pretty as she is, she gets real harsh real quick at times.. “Hey, Kenny, what’s going on?” Yep, the same raised eyebrows as a response. Frankly, I don’t get why Kenny even comes along if he’s gonna act like a wallflower. Gosh, is that why Casey keeps me next to him. No.. I’m no wallflower! We’re thirty minutes into the trail, having cut through forest with relatively little slopes, but after a narrow right turn, we arrived at a steep forty-five-degree incline. The sign nearby says to use the handrails and not the trees roots that branch into the path floor as leverage, but since we ignored that last time, we’ll ignored it this time. The path substantially narrows here, so we have to go up in a single file: first Roger, then Elliot, Casey, I, and Kenny. Forget going one at a time, we just go up slowly together; and once again my eyes have nowhere to go except lay onto Casey’s bare back thighs. I mean, I have to be looking down to watch where I step, but her butt is like right in my face. As much as my brain tells me to stop looking, my heart reassures a short glance should be alright. She decided on dark-blue jean short-shorts this time, hemmed just slightly below the extent of her butt and showing more tanned-olive skin than when she was wearing those leggings. Gosh, her legs are just so.. mm, her thighs as wide as the width of a kickball, without a blemish — apart from a bruise just above her back right knee — her upper thighs slim down to her knees, leaving a gap between them and the upper part, and her calves as mini-footballs and shins slimming down as the thickest end of a baseball bat. Even her feet are cute, though hidden under her short white ankle socks and black athletic shoes: her shoe size is small, probably a five. As she climbs up, it’s impossible not to appreciate her jiggling thighs. Finally we climb to the top, as Casey steps off, her foot catches a branch— “Hey Case—watch out, the branch!!” But I’m too late. Her right foot slides underneath it and she trips forward falling on both of her knees. Her thighs jiggle when they slap shut as she throws her knees together, crashing down on them like so. “Ahh! O-ow!” “He—hey! Are you okay?! Come on, let me help you.” “Thanks Elliot.. damn, that totally caught me off..” ..I froze in my trek, my eyes starring up at her as she had fallen, then helped up and brushed the brown dust off her scrapped knees. She turns around mid-speech to catch me starting at her, and our eyes meet cutting her off.. “..guard..” Since I was at an incline, my head was below her butt. When she fell, my eyes caught something twinkle from between her upper thighs and cascade a few drops down her upper right inseam, glide down out from within and across her lower back thigh, and suspend just at the bruise above her back knee. We stare at each other for five seconds, my mouth opens slightly, which makes her eyes widen, signaling to her that I witnessed what she thought was unseen knowledge that only she possessed: she tinkled into her shorts as she fell. Luckily for her, no drops fell onto the brown dirt, merely remaining clinging to her olive skin. She quickly breaks her stare, turning around and continues to walk, as if ignoring the fact that I just saw her do what she did. “Uhh, Tony..?” Wow, she just peed herself.. that’s hilar— “..Tony..?” “Hu—oh, sorry Kenny: forgot you were behind me..” I climb up the final rest of the incline, my eyes fixed on her backside. ‘You know, she’s given you such a hard time, why don’t you return the favor.’ I shake my head, my revengeful mind yearning to get her back, but my heart has her in a soft spot, overruling my brain. She doesn’t even bother wiping the drops off the back of her right thigh. Make sense as I’m right behind her: she doesn’t want to confirm what I know I saw. After covering much ground, we finally arrive at our pit-stop of the day. There’s an amazing flat area of ground beside a beautiful pond, surrounded by trees, bushes of colorful flowers, and tall grasses. We set up our tents, only for Roger and Elliot to began bickering once again.. “What the hell do ya mean you only brought two?” “What do ya mean ‘what do ya mean’, ya dumbass: two means two tents; you know what two means don’tchya?” “My God, Elliot, I swear you’ve got some kind of brain problems: there’s five of us and two tents. We need three: two for two guys each and one for Casey!” “I swear, Elliot, you ain’t comin’ with us next time..” “Well, I wouldn’t have forgotten if you’d keep pesterin’ me about the map.. “HO— y-you’re blaming me now, aren’t ya..?” Oh God, here we go again. “Hey!” “Hey!” “Roger!— HE—woah, woah, woah, come on! Will. You. Both. Just—Hey, get off of him—STOP!” “Look, I get it, Elliot’s an idiot—“ “—Hey! I’m no—“ “—Let’s just figure out a solution, and it’ll all be fine. Getting on top of Elliot isn’t going magically give us a third tent, Roger!” “So, then, what’re we gonna do then, Tony.. I ain’t sleepin’ outside!” “Ugh, no.. how ‘bout three in one tent, two in the other?” “Hm.. okay. Me, you, and Elliot; Casey and K—“ “No, no! Not with Kenny, give me Roger; so Elliot, Kenny, and Tony.” “No, I ain’t goin’ with you, I need Elliot in my tent.. I need to pummel into that brain of yours—“ “—right, Roger needs some cuddle time with Elliot—“ “—why you.. Tony, come’er—“ “Haha, get away from me, save it for Elliot.. haha..” “Gosh, you guys are so lame..” “Okay, Roger, Kenny, and I—you ain’t got shit on me, Roger, I’d like to see you try..” “So me.. and Casey?” I look at her and a grin ever so slightly creeps out the corner of my mouth, signaling to her a reminder of what I saw earlier. Her eyes beckon back at me with worry. “Guys, come on, you really can’t stick me with Tony—“ I open my mouth just about to retort— “Okay, then take Kenny—“ “No, Elliot, we’ve been there before..” “Then take Tony, what else is there..?” “Roger!?” “Nah.. I ain’t goin’ with Casey. I have a NEED to be with Elliot—Oh, hoo, hoo, can’t wait to pummel the shi— “—Argh, Gosh, these freakin’!..” “Hey, what’s with the mumble and grumble, at least I ain’t Kenny..?” She glares at me and continues mumbling under her breath as the tents get set up. After the tents had been set up, Roger and Elliot take off nearby into the woods for some firewood and logs to sit on. Roger figured he could knock some sense into Elliot while they gather supplies for a campfire. I refused to go with, not wanting to rip my ears off listening to their bickering. Wallflower Kenny was quiet the whole time, remained in the tent he’s sharing with Roger and Kenny. I, on the other hand, went to take a leak in some bushes nearby next to the pond. When I returned to my tent, Casey was already under the covers. “Ugh..” “Nice, so the blanket is only for you, I guess..” “Ugh, why do I have to be stuck here with you..?” Gosh, as pretty as she is, tonight is going to be more of a nuisance than anything else. “Wha—no, lay over there—“ “What? All the way at the fuckin’ edge of the tent, smushed against its wall..?” Gosh, I never curse, but damn she’s really gotten on my nerves. “Come on, Casey, give it a rest. I get it, you don’t like me, but at least let me get a proper night’s rest.” “Ugh.. whatever..” “And give me some of the blanket, it’s freakin’ cold..” I try to tug the blanket but she only tugs harder back to her side. “Ha. How ‘bout no. You’re a guy, you can stand the cold.” “Are you serious?” “Did I stutter?” “Ugh.. whatever..” I slowly start to drift off to sleep as I hear Roger’s voice approach in the distance. It sounds like they didn’t any firewood; it sounds like they did nothing but argue. They both entered their tents arguing. Gosh, I kind of feel bad for Kenny.. I slowly begin drifting back to sleep, but am awaken by Casey’s constant shifting beside me. Whenever she shifts, the tent crinkles and the floor moves, keeping me awake. “Excuse me, are you going to sleep or is this another form of torture?” “Shut up, Tony..” “Right, says the girl making noise..” She keeps shifting every two minutes or so. And I could have sworn I could hear whimpering. I get up and turn to her and freeze, staring at her back silently, when she whimpers again: “Hey, are you okay?” No response. “Casey..?” I hear another soft whimper. “Hey.. hey.. what’s going on..?” “P-please leave me alone..” “Hey, look, I would.. but it sounds like you’re crying..?” “No.. I’m not.. leave me alone.. go back to sleep..” “Are you sure..?” “Ugh, Tony..?” “Wow.. okay.. whatever floats your boat, then..” As I try going back to sleep, she continues to shift, only less frequently; but every time she does, I can hear her whimper. What the hell is going on? How can I even sleep like this? While lying on my back, she turns her face to me. I don’t notice at first — trying to sleep and all — but I open my eyes when I hear another whimper enter my right ear. I turn my face to her face and our eyes meet. Her eyebrows are wrinkled and face wincing as if worried whilst biting down on her bottom lips. I mouth to her: “Are you okay?” And she gently shakes her head. I look at how she’s laying: on her left side and in a fetal position. Her arms thrusting the blanket between her thighs, and her eyes squeezing shut as she ever so subtly shivers beneath. It all clicked in my brain. I look back at her worried eyes and mouth to her: “Do you have to use the bathroom?” She gently shakes her head. But I can tell she’s lying. “You don’t have to use the bathroom?” She, once again, shakes no. I raise my eyebrows and mouth: “Okay then..”, then turn my head and stare at the tent ceiling. Her blanket noisily shifts again, so does the tent floor beneath her as her thighs glide against her sleep bag. I turn my head again towards her to find her wincing face and squinting eyes, her arms thrusted almost all the way, just passed her elbows, shoving the blanket in her hands between her blanket-covered thighs. I whisper: “Oh, come on, you have to pee.. don’t you?” She shakes her head again. “Stop lying, I can see your arms pressing the blanket in between..” “Ugh..”, she lets out and whimpers again, this time right in my face, not trying to hide it. “So why don’t you go?” Her stifled breathe whispers back whilst shaking her head: “I don’t want to go alone.” “I’ll go with you.” She briefly closes her eyes and shakes her head: “No.” “Why?” “No. I don’t want to go with you.” “Heh.. so.. you’re just going to shift in bed, and then what, wait it out..?” She squeezes her eyes hard and lets go of her bottom lips, instead clenching her teeth together and whimpers a little louder through them. “Gosh, Casey, you’re going to torture me with your desperation.. get up.. I’ll go with you..” “I said no, Tony!”, she loudly says, almost breaking her whisper. “Fine. But you better not wet yourself.. like you did so before..” Her eyes widen, teeth unclench and lips part, glaring at me silently. “Wha-hh.. I so did not—“ “Yes, you so did, I saw the drops tinkle twinkle right out of you!..” She purses her lips inwards and glances her eyes away towards the ceiling of the tent. “You peed yourself in front of me, I saw it. And I could’ve said something, considering how nasty you are to me..” Her eyes swiftly lock back onto mine, wide-eyed. “I so do not—“ “—Really, you’re going to question me on that—Hah—I mean, every time: ‘Tony you dumbass’ here and ‘Tony you deaf’ there, and the unwarranted punching. You won’t even give me a break, now, and I just want to sleep.” “Are you finished..?” “A-Ahhhh.. right.. whatever.. forget it.. pee yourself then, good night.” I turn my back to her and shut my eyes. She continues shifting, whimpering, while I tried my best to ignore her. But her whimpering only began to get louder and more drawn out. Her shifting would sound in intervals as her thighs glide against the sleeping bag material below her, then go still, and then a whimper would escape her mouth. And soon the pity started to overwhelm me. Finally, I had the last straw, after she let out a loud whimper, and got up going for the zippered-shut tent door— “What are you doing—where are you going..?” “I’m going to pee — you’re wanting to pee makes me want to pee — come..”, I extend my left arm towards her whilst my body is halfway through the tent. Her eyes beckon her yearning to tag along but she responds resoundingly: “No, Tony.” “No..? Okay, no it is; I, on the other hand, am going for a leak. See ya, and good luck; just don’t pee the sheets when I get back. Bye..” I step out of the tent and make my way to where I last relieved myself. As I make twenty or so paces to my destination, I hear a soft voice cry in the distance: “Wait!..” Alas, my plan has worked: I’ve dragged her out of the tent. “Change of heart?” “Shut up and keep wal—..” “Did you say.. ‘shut up’..?” She cuts herself off, realizing she’s doing it again. We walk another thirty paces until we arrive at the bush. “There.. that’s where I went before; so go, I’ll be waiting, laying here by the pond shore.” She looks at me, hesitant. “Oh, come on, I’m not that far away — literally a few feet away. Unless you want me to watch you..?” “Ugh, ew wha—what..? You creep!” “Hahahahehehe, that’s what I thought. Go, so then I could go after.” She goes off to the bush, partially disappearing behind it whilst I lay by the shore. Woohhhh, the moon’s glare rippling off the soft tide of the pond’s waters is so mesmerizing. Surrounded by trees and greenery: it’s like a hidden garden of paradise. She comes back out of the bush, standing over me as I sit watching the water of the pond soothingly ripple, appreciating its soft burbling sounds. “What? Why are you standing next to me like that? I just want to watch the water.” She looks at the water and shivers a little, then decides to sit next to my right and watch, too. We sit there silently for a moment and she shivers again. “Hey.. I-I’m sorry.. about before..” “Hmm..?” “Sometimes.. I just.. don’t know how to act in front of people..” “What do you mean, we all know each other — well.. except for Kenny, but even Kenny, he’s just so quiet, ya know — anyways, there’s no use in acting unlike yourself.” “No, I-I mean—“ “—you mean in front of Roger, right? Come on, I clearly see that. You even wanted him in your tent, haha!” “No, I—“ “Come on, it’s alright. It’s alright to crush on people. But, sheesh, if you’re gonna get his attention, can you punch me less?” “Wow.. you really are clueless, aren’t you..?” “Huh..?” “I don’t have a crush on Roger!” “Oh, then Elliot?” “Ugh.. no—Elliot, really.. what would even make ya thin—?” “—Okay. Not Elliot, not Roger — it’s definitely not me — ... HHHO! Eewww.. Kenny..? No wonder you were so adamant about not having him in your tent!..” “Ugh, whatever.. forget it..” “Too shy to have him around, I see.. hahaha!” “Hahaha, you like Kenny, that wallflower!” “That’s hilarious!” As I continue laughing, thinking about Kenny being with Casey and shaking my head in disbelief, she nudges herself closer until she lays her left hand over my right, which immediately thrusts me out of my drunken stupor. Upon feeling her hand over mine, I turn my face to her, and am met with hazel eyes staring deeply into mine. In that moment, the contents of my brain are thrown into a jumbled mess, frantically attempting to recuperate after a laughing episode: ‘Why is she leaning so close into—?’ ‘—Why is she staring at me so—?’ ‘—Is there something behind—?’ ‘Hey..? Why is her hand on me..?’ She gets closer and closer whilst I remain frozen in place and resting backwards against my arms until her eyes are inches from my own. And it was in that tense moment when my brain pieces together what she was doing, forcibly shutting my eyes and leaning my head forwards. My lips receive a soothing warmth of pressure, which make my own take a mind of its own and begin to move to the rhythm of her lips on my face. My brain beckons internally: “she wants you, ya dimwit..” She releases me and whimpers, my eyes immediately fling open at the sound, falling upon her hands smushed in between her upper thighs. “Wha—.. he— ww-wha—“ My mind a jumbled mess of words and emotions. She squints her eyes and bites her bottom lips, whimpering again whilst her hands clench herself between her thighs. “What’s wrong?” “Oh.. nothing, nothing.. it’s just.. kissing you.. has..” “Hm..? Oh, oh, I see.. that’sss.. okay, right..?” “Hehe, yes.. I want to keep—“ Cutting her speech off into my lips as she leans into me once more, swiftly mounting herself onto to me thereafter. She does as she pleases with me, debilitated by a swirl of emotions riding against my mind, as a tingling warmth explodes in my chest and tantalizingly grows slowly beneath me; it grows beneath her clothed pelvis, which she’s compressed against me. My chest bursts with flames within and only flares as I press my growing self into her pelvis, my heart gradually racing with excitement. Her lips suck the excitement out my very lips and then moans it back into mine, pressing her pelvis harder into me in response to the building pressure she feels pressing into her.l Her lips release, her voice beckoning an amalgamation of moans and whimpering and simultaneously thrusts her hands between our pelvises, taking hold of herself whilst her hands brush against the bulge beneath her. She grooves her supple waist into me, whilst her hands are smothered between both our pelvises, continuing to whimper and moan. She lets go of herself, grabs my right hand and guides its palm across the damp front of her jeans shorts: I feel a wetness across my palm and fingers. “Press-ss-ss..”, her S’s linger every time she strokes her pelvis into mine. I grab that wet part of her shorts and press my hand forwards into her, which she positively responds with a groan, her breathe quickly picking up, suddenly. She bites harder down onto her lips, whimpering beneath them, her eyebrows wrinkled and eyes squinting, until her whimpers become outright moans which breach her bitten lips; she hunches forwards, resting against her right hand beside my left underarm, our torsos hovering a few inches apart. As the pressure in her pelvis ramps up, her jaw flings wide open and her throat ready to let loose, she thrusts her face into my chest and moans into it whilst tightly grasping my shirt with her left hand. As the vibrations of her moans permeate into my ribs, and her torso pressed into mine violently shivers, I feel a sudden explosion of warmth erupt into the palm of my right hand cupped tightly against her. Another hot warmth erupts again whilst her moan reignites harder into my chest, her body shivering again into mine as I feel some kind of hot stream trickling out from between my fingers and down my wrist.. ‘..Did she.. no..?’, my mind for a second reflects before denying and thinking of what I hoped she released into my hand. My chest excited that I’m making her response like so, I press harder into her pelvis and move my hand up and down, to which she affirmatively beckons from her throat into my shirt, and shivers violently into me, another hot explosive liquid erupting out from her jean-shorts and into my hand, vibrating strongly beneath the fabric. I keep rubbing and she only continues releasing her warmth into me.. However, I quickly begin questioning why there’s so much.. I figured maybe I just made her.. her.. finish.. but there so much.. finishing..? She keeps going, yet I stop moving my hand; she still continues, moaning and whimpering into my chest whilst my still hand is fully enveloped with surrounding hotness. It seeps into my khaki shorts below her, wetting my hard self with intense trickling warmth. I move the back of my hand against her trickling left inner thigh and slide my soaked fingertips up the hem of her shorts, which are met with a constant stream of hotness flowing through her panties— Oh my.. is she freakin’ peeing on me—? “Hey, what’r-yy—are you peeing on me??” I try separating myself from her with my left hand, pushing it into her waist, whilst she cuts her streaming onto my right, but continues clinging herself to my chest, her arms tied around my lower waist.. She whimpers into my chest, sobbing, and refusing to remove her face digging into me: “I-I.. I’m s-sorry-y-y..” “You t-turned me on-n, b-but I couldn’t.. couldn’t hol—ld back-k-k..” “D-Didn’t you go behind the bush..?” “I c-couldn’t go.. I-I.. I was-s-s too n-nervous—p-please don’t tell.. any-anybody..” Although I was annoyed that she literally went on my hand and shorts — I was ready to throw her off me — another thought lingered in my mind, a dirty thought: ‘wasn’t that kind of hot?’ ‘I mean, she peed on you, which is gross, but something about having your hand against her when she was cool just suddenly erupt with intense heat was.. I don’t know.. and though she peed on you and you’re grossed out, your lower self refuses to retreat.. in fact, just replaying it in your mind is re-igniting..’ “Hey, hey.. it’s okay..”, sliding my left hand from her right lower waist and against her lower back, caressing it. She unhooks her sobbing face out from my chest: “W-what..?” “It’s totally fine, it was an accident—actually it’s kind of my fault: I made you do this.” “Huh..?”, her incredibly wrinkled eyebrows beckon. I move the fingers still lodged in her shorts, pressing them into her panties, causing her body to jerk, unexpectedly. “W-wha— you—“ “It’s okay, let’s just keep going..” “Y-you want to keep g-going.. but I-I.. I still have to pee..?” “Then pee, you’ve already started..?” Her red, teary hazel eyes freeze their stare into mine, and lips part in shock.. “Keep.. going..?” “Ho—how c-can I keep going now.. with you.. staring at me like that..?” I smile, nodding my head. I wrap my left arm around her waist and squeeze her lower abdomen tightly into mine: “Like this..”, placing pressure on her belly whilst my right-hand fingers resume on her surface over her freshly warm-soaked panties. Her eyes water from tingling pressure and moans her voice into my face. She rests her right ear against my palpable chest, listening to the state of my heart as the hotness in her lower abdomen imminently resumes its exit. She violently shivers into my torso as my fingers are reintroduced to her hot flow, urinating out from beneath her panties as my fingers caress her pulsating self. I remove my fingers out from the hem and reacquaint with her leaking panties as my slippery hand slips underneath the front of her shorts and glide over the utterly soaked and hot front of her panties beneath. Her throbbing self kisses the palm of my right hand as she sloshes in the pool of her hot pee beneath her shorts. The working hand wringing her pelvis with a plethora of sensations reflected onto her face, those throat’s moans soothe any ear. Consequently, my shorts explode with her warmth and engulf its throbbing guest, who couldn’t get any more harder though it yearns. I remove my hand and quickly motion to stand. I continue to do as I please with her — the embarrassment of her releasing onto to me removing any opposition to my demands — fondling her beneath her soaked-dark shorts, glistening in the moonlight and audibly squelching as my hand displaces the flow of her hot liquid against the skin of her pelvis. Her inseams gleam as her yellow trickles gracefully out from between her upper thighs. My left hand grabbing the back of her shorts, feeling her flow having travelled up the back of them, finally resting it in her left back pocket. She continues into her shorts whilst my hand toys with her, still squelching as I play with her panties. The back of her thigh shine and glow as the moonlight reflects the spiraling and wavy trickling narrowly flowing down her legs, splattering on the mud below her feet. As my lips mingle with hers, the hand kissing the second pair in her shorts, causing her knees to betray her, she giggling into my face at her silliness. She continues moaning until she unloads that last few drops out from between her thighs. Keeping her face attached to mine, she relinquishes her lips and whispers: “You can’t.. hhmmm—“ “—I know, I know: I can’t tell anyone..” “..yeah..” “..who would there be to tell..?” “We can’t go back like this.. jump.” “Hhmmm.. W-what?” “Jump into the pond, I’ll follow you.”l We both jumped into the pond, washing ourselves though it being quite cold. We didn’t have any towels, so we quickly snuck back to our tent and dried ourselves with one of each of our dried shirts that we had packed, yet it was not enough to fully do the job. So we snuggled together beneath that one blanket, drying off whatever was left of wetness, and continuing what we left unfinished by the pond. And the rest was history..
  5. Yes, I can do the same. The only thing is when I wake up my abdomen is super uncomfortable from the pressure. Perhaps that’s why I start having dreams of people wetting themselves: it’s like my brain is telling me I have a full bladder.
  6. Although that’s prevalent, one only has to squeeze it out by pressing (softly) on the soft part of the shaft, that sits between the columns that fill with blood when erect. The urethra runs along this soft part, and it can be reached as far down the perineum.
  7. Has anyone every dreamt of watching someone wet themselves. I’ve occasionally had dreams like these, except today what I was seeing was something like a succession of different people (women) wetting their jeans, in different scenarios in front of me; it was kind of like watching multiple videos in succession. Very weird, but also I can’t complain lol. Hm.. maybe I’ll write a story in the fiction section on what I saw.. or would that count as an.. experience..?
  8. Your description is very enjoyable. The tension and intimacy are well-articulated. I hope you and your partner work things out. Perhaps writing about the process (obviously privately in a journal) might help you along the way. I read and heard somewhere that journaling is very therapeutic.
  9. I can’t write chapters that are, at least in my opinion, fillers. I get that stories become better when there is more context, but there should be something omo-related, foreshadowing wetting, or at least some kind of tension, otherwise I get immediately unmotivated to continue writing or reading, if it’s someone’s story (for whom I just skip to the good parts). Personally, I’m not a fan of overindulging on context, unless I am describing the physical features of a character. I just enjoy detailing the whole process of wetting, which is usually the bulk of what my paragraphs are dedicated to.
  10. Haha, I didn’t even consider. I’m not too good with reactions, so I guess I’ll let your imagination fill in the blanks.
  11. I just wrote this short story on the fly. ————————————————————— Dreamy Jacuzzi She found herself slowly drifting away, in the creeping blanket of darkness, found beneath closed eyelids; and just at the cusp of nothingness, a tiny wiggle nods to what’s left of her awareness. She almost is convinced it didn’t occur for real, that it was the beginning of some dream—but then it wiggles again, and she perceives it coming from the outside, not from her mind, but from below her stomach. There it is again, her eyebrows wrinkle over shut eyes as her lower abdomen tingles, its ringing traveling down into her vagina. She realizes she in fact did not go before bed, her pee pressing into her sphincter, and her taint grows warm underneath its surface. Her pelvis jerks, twitching when she clenches away her urge to pee. She tries to go back to sleep. Then, again, as she veers off the edge of consciousness, another wiggle flickers in her mind; and again she’s unable to determine whether it’s a dream or if it’s real. This time believing it’s a dream. Unaware she tapped into an odd lucid-like state, where she feels aware of the fact she’s dreaming and can control it as she sees fit. Then, suddenly, again her mind is wiggled: an emanating warmth sitting in the depths of her vagina. She’s not sure what could be so warm and familiar yet so unknown to her at the same time. She prods her fingers over the outskirt crevices between her outer lips and thigh inseams. They consequently grow tender, just like the warmth that wiggled her mind. And then, again, her mind is flooded with warm wiggles, and in her dream state felt a rush of warmth sing out from her pelvic lips. However, unbeknownst to her, in reality, she’s entirely loosened her sphincter to a full bladder of piss. She sleeps in bed without the need for panties — for her, panties make her sleeping experience uncomfortable; always wedging into her vagina and butt whenever she tosses and turns in bed — and hardly even uses her blanket when sleeping. Her petite, bare-shaven lips were pressed into her light-blue bedsheet when the first few drops of her liquid yellow began dribbling out from between her folded crotch, darkening a dribble-worthy node of dark-blue between her tender upper inseams. After about five seconds, another few drops oozed out and quickly developed into a light-yellow trickle, delicately pooling around the skin surrounding her tender lips and upper thigh inseams. And as with all soft brooks, hers began to swiftly strengthen thereafter, the pool around her silently growing, darkening, deepening, seeping upwards and towards her lower abdomen, past her hood and pubic bone, and warming her smooth pale bare-shaven pubic area, and eventually forming a dark-blue pooling moat escaping laterally out from below her love-handles. And whilst her lips cozily pressed into her bedsheet released her hot liquid, she shifting her right thigh, initially its front skin laying flat and pressing into the gradually-soaking bedsheets, is moved closer to her right lower waist. Upon doing so, she elevates her gushing lips out of the pool it had been steadily and gently growing, and above the shallow waters it has been forming, revealing the audible strength of her urination: softly hissing out of its tender opening and its hot stream burbling its waters into the hot pool of dark-blue below her. Her streaming burbles become deeper as the pool grows, thus far throughly soaking the sheets past her lower abdomen and now creeping up her upper abdomen, trickling to below her moderately-sized breasts and softly channeling in between them. Finally her hissing lips dissipate, and the burbling fizzles out as her bladder fully spreads all of its hot gold beneath her front torso, pelvis and legs. Back to her dream state, she sees herself relaxing in a jacuzzi, enjoying the heat-intensive waters stroking her breasts and massaging her waist, and easing the rest of her body from tension. She lays her head back against the jacuzzi walls and softly smiles with satisfaction.
  12. ————————————————————— it’s been a while since I posted a fictional story. Actually, I started many during this hiatus, but ended up deleting many of them because I’d lose motivation. So, I took a break. Seems I needed it as this story is a whopping 9-10 pages long, according to Microsoft Word. I didn’t want to create chapters, so you all can simply read the whole thing in one go without having to wait for each chapter. Once again, as in a previous story of mine, “she” is unnamed so that whoever you are, if you so desired, can call her whomever you’d like: a crush, a girlfriend, a wife, whoever; I leave her identity at my readers’ discretion. Any edit history will be with respect to typos I find as I re-read my work in this post. It’s long, so typos are inevitable. I hope you enjoy this story as much as I enjoyed detailing it. ’Til next time.. ————————————————————— Driving Disaster Although she had stopped at the rest-stop and gone in for some beverages, her anxiety with using public restrooms prevented her from going. Her bladder reminded her that the toilet is only a door away, but she refused as her anxiety flared in her chest. She purchased the beverages and as she approached the exit, her bladder whispered into her mind: “last chance, turn around..” But she ignored it, walking through the sliding doors; and whilst she walked to and approached her car, she can hear her bladder yelp into her mind: “No! No!, please go back! You have a chance!” And once again, she shook her head, refusing to acknowledge her opportunity. Her anxiety just told her to wait it out. After all, she just had to wait another fifty miles or so, then she’d reach the motel she planned to stay in for the night; then she can go pee. However, now that she was back on the road, her urging bladder slowly began creeping out of her belly, building until sufficient tingle remained constant in her lower abdomen. She clenched her sphincter muscles in response, but it didn’t go away as fast as prior to her break at the rest-stop. Her mind began to second-guess her anxiety, after noticing it took longer for her clenching to make the tingles go away: “perhaps a public restroom isn’t so bad?” But as soon as the question rang in her mind, just as fast sprung her anxiety about even considering the opportunity and picturing herself doing so. And though her mind reassured her, and gave her some confidence that she could make it, the extent of her distended bloated belly signaled: — considering that she was wearing a flow-y red floral dress, was yet noticeably jutting out — “maybe it was just the way I’m sitting”, she reflected when her large stomach signaled. Suddenly while thinking — thinking she could perhaps make it — her bladder’s urge arrives faster, no longer gradually creeping its way, and contracts beneath the skin of her lower abdomen, sending strong tingles urging her to open her sphincter downwards into her perineum. “Ooooff..”, she mouths, then purses her lips. She squints her eyes, not outright squeezing them shut — since she knows wouldn’t be able to see the road had she fully closed them — and bites her incisors down on her bottom lips. Her head lightly twitches, tilting to the left when the tingles in her perineum grow upwards and sit at on top of her pubic bone. “Ahhh..”, her mind winces as growing tingles agitate, ringing her awareness like cellphone that won’t let up. Careful not to have it affect her driving foot, she presses her milk-tea thighs together, shoving her dress in between the middle inseams thereof with her left hand, all but her thumb, which, though insignificant, caresses her right thigh over the dress. She wrinkles her eyebrows and tells herself to focus on the road, while her pressing thighs squeeze its tension into her and against the constant wave yearning to overcome the flood walls. The tingles grow further upwards and sit just above her pubic bone: her lower abdomen muscles briefly twitch beneath. She responsively clenches harder as a burning sensation overwhelms her and keeps like so for thirty seconds, until finally she feels it start to subside, slowly retreating away into the depths of her swollen belly. Although she hides her bladder away, it irritation bloats her belly with pressure. She covers another five miles before her bladder comes knocking again, this time more prepared to defeat her hold. She felt her innards expand beneath that full belly. Though her thighs were already together, and only lightly pressed — having relaxed them thus far, after the prior hold — she resumed their prior tension, but her contracting bladder only shot more tingles into her perineum; so she responded with tighter squeezing, but with no avail: her tingling only growing stronger and crawling back up the front of her, forcing her pelvic lips to shrink inwards as she instinctually clenches her muscles very tightly. “Oooo! Come on, come on, come on! Why won’t you just let uppp!”, arguing with her bladder while clenching her teeth. She so badly wants to bring her feet together and closer so that she may stomp them in place alternatively, but her right foot is too preoccupied with the gas pedal. Instead, her left foot starts to pace, side-to-side, while left knee jams tightly into the other one. She shoves her left hand back in between the middle of her thighs, all fingers in this time. Her palm facing her inner right thigh, it grasps onto its sensitive skin and squeezes. It feels moist, her inner thighs no doubt red as they remain together and sweating, her dress absorbing some of it. And though her foot continues to dance and her left arm pressing its hand into her right thigh, the burning beneath her perineum returns: her bladder is vehemently contracting its hot sloshing pee into her walls. She covers two miles in her unrelenting desperation, until the drop of sweat riding down her forehead and delaying in her right eyebrow notifies her just how desperate her situation is: she’s sweating though the air conditioner is running. She removes her left hand to caress her lower left thigh, but as quick as she does so just as quick the tingles get worse, so she shoves her hand back in, but this time against herself: all the way down to the perineum, and it’s a whole swamp though she clasps herself over her dress. Another rushing tingle smashes into her perineum, and she softly moans: “Mmmph..”, her breath immediately stifling thereafter. She bites her right corner lip and rubs her left inner knee against her right, debilitated by the gas pedal. And, still, that burning feeling persists. She starts circling herself, immediately bringing in waves of pleasure—“No, no!.. I don’t want this..”, her mind demands to shake free, and her denying head signals. She stops herself, but her mind is reminded by her bladder’s unwavering fight. So she resumes. She circles again, and upon friction her eyelids weaken and bottom lip retreats, pressing itself into her upper teeth. She knows she doesn’t want to, but knows she needs something, anything, to help her ignore her bladder. And successfully she suppressing her urge, though it’s still there, masked under the brush of pleasure. She softly moans through bitten bottoms lips, squeezing her upper inner thigh muscles together and smothering the hand in between doing its work; but suddenly and accidentally her right foot pleasurably twitches, pressing on the gas pedal and accelerating her car suddenly forwards. She eyes escape her weak eyelids, widening to full attention while kicking her distracting hand out her moist self and onto her steering wheel. Her right foot immediately going for the brake and slams on it, overreacting. She doesn’t come to a stop, only significantly slowing herself down, but sufficient enough to throw her forward and accidentally squeezes a weak light-yellow spurt out from her raging bladder, soaking her light-pink panties warm. She doesn’t even feel it happen with the adrenaline rushing through her arteries. Only after coming back to her senses does she encompass a slightly cool clinging substance pressing in between her upper inner thighs. Her jaw flings open before a loud gasp blurts out, shocked she got herself so distracted to do this to herself. She quickly glances below, finding the red of her tucked dress against her soaked lips now dark red, having peed through her panties and into her red dress. “Fuck.. not the dress..”, her face wrinkles and inner voice disappointingly remarks. She quickly lifts the end of the dress settled halfway down her thighs up to her lower abdomen, untucking the wet spot out from between her wet lips, partially revealing them soaked through the translucent wetness of her now dark-pink panties. Dark-pink across the entire width and a nigh-dismissible circular dark patch hiding below her perineum and beneath her nigh-touching upper inner thighs: her pee got into the fabric of her dress below her pelvis. “Ahh, fuck, no! I so got it onto the seat!”, she scolds herself aloud. She slides her left hand between her wet upper inner thighs until the tips of her fingers touch the dress trapped between her butt and the seat, confirming she’s indeed wet the dress below her. “Ugh, nooo..”, her head shakes. One would think a light release would alleviate the pressure in her belly yet all this time she’s kept herself clenched whilst investigating her predicament, holding against an even more furious bladder, spoiled by its brief squirt of ecstasy and whining for more. “Ooo, come on, what is wrong with you..?”, she berates her swollen belly, her lifted dress revealing just how bloated she is and how red her skin has become. Her face winces and shrinks, eyes squinting and nose wrinkling with pursed lips as her spoiled bladder slams a wall of tingles into her sphincter, feeling her perineum burning with a vehement burning: it’s as though a kindling has been ignited between her upper inner thighs. And though the momentum of her hot flow burns into her sphincter, as if pressing a cigarette into her arm, a sensation having spread and now covering the whole front of her quivering lips, her soaked clinging panties have grown cold from the air conditioner running in her car. There’s nothing more enticing for release than a crotch burning to pee whilst covered in its cold remnants. Her lower belly, just above her pubic bone, begins to twitch micro-contractions again, a result of holding back her burning sphincter for a prolonged amount of time. They flutter out therefrom, converting into goosebumps that rumble like rolling stones against her skin. Prickling up her bloated belly and waist, up her breasts — wrinkling her nipples — and a portion diverging under her arms to the small of her back, finally converging back with the front at her trapezius muscles: her shoulders consequently shivering violently and the hairs on the back of her head standing up. Involuntarily, her head jerks and stoops forwards; she softly moans again, then shakes her head with annoyance, thinking she must look like she’s some possessed freak, contorting in her car. She slams her left leg back into her right, and casts its shin underneath her right calf muscle. She begins to swing it from beneath and out, over and over: every time her left shin is back underneath, she delays her leg there and twists her left foot over her right ankle, squeezing her twizzlered left leg tightly around her right, especially around her right thigh, trying warm her cold crotch with squeezing tension. She repeats this twizzler-ing process enough to slightly warming her cold self. And simultaneously, she compels her bursting bladder into obscurity, though its tingling only partially ringing into her awareness. She covers another twenty miles, committing to her twizzlered procedure another five more times during her commute. However, just short of the twenty-mile mark, she finally gains some peace of mind, relaxing, though keeping her thighs together, when no tingles emanated out from her belly, only feeling the pressure of her bloat. It was when she had covered just over twenty miles that her peace of mind was so short-lived: when a very sharp pang of pain radiated out of her right waist, she responsively throws her shoulders back and arches her back like a banana thinking a stretch would make it go away, but she only had made it worse. Upon arching her back, she inversely stretched out her bloat belly, sending a strong flowing urge swiftly into her crotch. She instinctively hunches forward as soon as she feels a few drops slip passed her sphincter and into her urethra. “Haaaa, no! No!.. fuckkk..”, as her leaking drops glide down her urethra, whilst her cut stream lags behind her clenched sphincter, and oozes out of her opening: they spread a short blanket of warmth into her cold-soaked panties, and the slight warmth spilling onto her cold skin shivers her whole body with heated pleasure. It’s like snuggling by a heater after having finished shoveling snow. Her mind soothed by the warmth ridding her crotch of its soaked coldness, but she is quickly thrusted back into the reality of her burning sphincter, to which her mind subconsciously dictates: “Just let go.” She bites her bottom lips just thinking about another spurt of hotness filling the coldness between her thighs, but shakes her head in refusal as she can’t release onto her seat, and especially not in her car, at least not any more. Yet, again, her subconscious prods into her awareness. “Just a little..?” She briefly squeezes her eyes shut while shaking her head again in refusal. “NO! No!..”, she refuses aloud to herself. And yet the downward flow of tingles only increases, reinforcing her subconscious urge. Her eyes begin to lightly water in its outer corners, blurring her vision whilst driving. She wipes her tingle-induced tears, but her eyes only burn upon being wiped and release more, not realizing her left hand had earlier touched her soaked self. Another wave of combined tingles rush down into her cold crotch, whilst her thighs begin to quiver with cold-inducing goosebumps. She begins scooting herself to the front of her seat and then back, allowing her to shift and rub her inner thighs against each other, though at the expense of her waist slightly twisting and irritating her yearning bladder. “Arrgh! Haa, Hoo, ooh! Come on, come on, just twenty more miles, just twenty more to go..”, she groans and exhales with every utterance. She looks as though she’s dancing in her seat with her shifting, getting closer to the steering wheel, then further, then closer, and so forth. But suddenly a massive urge smashes into her crotch, forcing her to freeze and stop shifting, needing to focus all her attention on tightly clenching herself still. She holds still, but her belly expands more. She clenches her pelvis muscles tighter, yet the burning only increases. With all her might, she presses her thighs so tightly together whilst clenching her sphincter her stillness ever so slightly fidgets from sheer rigidity. And though she holds herself in place like so, she can’t help but lose control over her breathing, gradually hyperventilating as she feels a few drops begin to leak passed her rigid self: “No!.. No!.. Come on!.. ooooOOOOH!.. mmmmMMMM!..”, she moans exasperatedly. Her mouth opens wide as if she’s silently orgasming whilst her warm drops seep down her urethra and spill its warmth over her cold skin, massaging her subconscious. Then another few burning drops seep past her clenched sphincter, though she’s frozen still as a block of ice. Her fidgeting turns into shaking, her muscles losing their constant-clenching strength, as though fatigued and shaking whilst doing one last weight-lifting pump. Her drops glide down her urethra and once again spill out of her opening, warming her cool skin. Her subconscious beckons: “You’re on your last legs.. just give in to this soothing warmth..” She shakes her head in denial, refusing to acknowledge she might just explode right in her seat for a minute of steamy hotness encroaching her cold lips. Her bladder having leaked twice, pushes full throttle, and, instead of drops, a trickle presses through from between the seams, her sphincter weakened by the part of her wanting to indulge her subconscious. “Haaw!..”, she orgasmically moans as hotness tantalizingly fingers it petrissage into her cold lips. “Mmmm..”, she suppresses the rest of her moan as she bites onto her bottom lips, whilst her yellow warmth flood the crevice between her outer lips and inner thighs. Her body shakes violently whilst this brush of warmth fills her cool panties. She accidentally floors her right foot onto the gas pedal as her body is tantalized with heated pleasure, which its accelerated jerk snapping her mind out of its hypnosis: she tries her best to clench harder. Consequently, her hyperventilation resumes as she fully acknowledges just how wet her upper inner thighs feel whilst her semi-loose-though-clenched, burning sphincter holds back the trickle. “Haa, Haa.. mmMM! Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck!..”, she exasperatedly belches as her bladder responsively strongly contracts back into her hold. Her pelvic lips, though shrunk inwards because of her clenched sphincter, once again involuntarily expand without her permission, causing her eyes to fill with tears of pleasurable release and her throat orgasmically expand, belching out a load moan of relief: “Haawyyeaaarrggh—MMMmmmm!!”, cutting her yelp once again behind bitten lips, letting the rest of it out as exhalation through her nose. Her hot flow harshly breaks through her weakened self, its yellow waters burning against her urethra walls and hissingly gushes into her dark-pink panties. It shines with exquisite light-yellow glow, exposing her red lips from sheer wetting-induced translucence, shifting the dark-pink spread-front upwards in a semi-circle fashion over her pubic bone and towards its panty waistline. Meanwhile, light-yellow pools between her panty-covered lips and pressed upper inner thighs, trickling down the makeshift milk-tea-colored channel in between her thighs, moderately streaming down the channel and spilling out from between her inner knees, spattering audibly onto the rubber carpet mat between her calves — a few drops trickle down her left calf, down the inner side of her shin and ankle, but suspend there — while her spattering yellow on the mat splatters its drops onto the insides of her shins. “Haa, Haa, fuck! Damn it! How can this be happening?!”, she yells at herself aloud, in disbelief that despite clenching as tight as she could her body just ignored all her effort. After splattering onto her shins, she finds wherewithal to cut her forced stream, hurting her urethra and sphincter as it burns. Her bladder having released for the first time a considerable amount, though still nothing compared to what remains in her belly, is satisfied for now, her stream-cutting clench capable of pulling back her urge, though is retreats with resistance. Seeing as she’s lost control twice, she floors it, becoming incredibly worried that she might empty herself with short bursts before she gets to her motel. She covers another ten miles without a peep of strong tingles, though receiving them nevertheless but weaker since her double release satiated her bladder. While covering this distance she gets a good idea of just how much she released: though her thighs were clenched enough to channel her warmth down its inner skin, half of her stream seeped down her soaked panties into her perineum and butthole, and pooled in those crevices, eventually passing through her dress and absorbing into the car seat below her. Having just passed ten miles, with thirteen remaining, another weak tingle creeps out from the depths of her belly. Before, it was her cold lips that yearned for reheating warmth, but now it was her inner thighs and perineum, though the latter was less cold than the former by virtue of her squeezed, folded crotch keep her body heat insulated therein. The weak tingle begins grow, this time, into stronger tingles, her bladder becoming hunger once again for release, beneath her belly and soon enough her thighs begin jiggling again. She swings her leg thigh vehemently back and forth, and so badly wants to move her right leg but can’t. Every time her left thigh swings wide open, a rush of cool air replaces the escaping warm air leaving her crotch and inner thighs. When she swings herself shut, the coldness of her inner left thigh presses into her right leg. She shivers again as the cold extracts goosebumps out of her skin It seems no matter what maneuver she tried, something was enticing her bladder to piss out its warming goodness. She slides her left hand across the front of her cool soaked panties, clasping herself tightly and pressing into her clenched self whilst continuing her swinging: at least she can keep some of her warmth tucked beneath her hand. As the tingles grow stronger, sure enough the burning returns, but this time her sphincter hasn’t got the energy to continuously hold her bladder back, and her subconscious exhausted much of its patience. It doesn’t take much time, clenched or unclenches, until a few drops begin to slip past her once again, oozing out of her urethra and spilling out onto her skin: it’s warmth spreading across herself and into the palm of her left hand in very brief pulses. Consequently, she starts swinging her left thigh harder, loudly smacking her jiggling left thigh into her right and turning her skin tender and red thereby, but more drops continue softly pulsate out of her and brief intervals of warmth spreading across her skin and the palm of her hand. And though she tinkles tiny drops, each time she holds them back to mere drops, her bladder invigorates with pressure. She tries to clench harder, but her sphincter refuses to tighten any further; and so as the pressure in her belly began to build up considerably and she occasionally releasing drops, she inevitably began to let out dribbling trickles instead of drops. “Haa!.. Haa!.. Haa!.. Hooo-ho-ho-ho, no, no, No, No, NO!..”, she began exhaling as the pressure reached a threshold, then started uncontrollably trickling without be able to effectively cut herself off. Her darkened pink panties fully soaked to waistline, her wet front having travelled over time, begins to twinkle grain-like glistening as her weak trickling slowly starts to shine through her panties, whose warmth-covered lips quiver as her weak sphincter muscles twitch with fatigue. Her bladder thoroughly entice, begins to fully contract, and her trickling grows strong without her permission. Her panties shine and lips become visible via translucence whilst her upper inner thighs flood with warmth. “Oooo! NO, NO, NO! WHY WON’T IT STOPPP!”, she yells to herself. She abruptly pulls over onto the side of the road, and bolts out of her driver’s side door. As she attempts stand up, she hunches forward and strongly hisses into her trickle-flooded panties and dress as she stumbles to feet outside her car. She has no wherewithal to clench herself as she’s standing, continuing to hiss into her panties, which are so fucking soaked a stream remains strong through the fabric, sloshing out her hot piss whilst her jiggling, narrowed-trickling-stream-covered inner thighs audible smack together, releasing that distinct sound of burbling squelches as flow is displaced by meeting skin. Her full-streaming self covers her knee-high red dress with streaks and splotches of dark red — not to mention the glaringly-glistening large jaggedly-circular splotch on the rear of her dress after continuously trickling into her car seat — soaking her dress, and leaking rapid messy drops of piss out and about from its end as she paces around her car to the other side, so that she could squat. Whilst she pace around the trunk of her car, her opening jiggling thighs allowed her stream to hiss without upper-inseam restriction, hosing out a direct strong stream of light-yellow perfectly out from between her thighs and loudly smack and patter the light-grey asphalt between her feet, splatter her piss onto the latter and onto the insides of her ankles and shins. This happens once more before she lifts her dress and squats. She bends down, totally out of breath and without an ounce of shame, lifts her dress and keeps it in place with one hand while pulling her totally-soaked panties with the other left hand to left and into her inner left thigh, pissing her strong stream into the fingers of her left hand as it pulls away the fabric. She loudly groans and exhales as her strong stream considerably strengthens when she fully relaxes, light-yellow flying far into the sandy dust at the side of road, loudly pattering into it. Her opening audibly hissing its high-pitch music as it vibrates out of her inner piss-soaked lips. Her piss rushes out, expanding out vertically from between her inner thighs. Eventually, her hissy gush dulls as her stream weakens, drawing a dark-grey line in the ground towards her as she nearly empties her bladder, until her lips weakly flow its light-yellow like a drinking water fountain that dribbles onto its own spout, her warm trickles finally lacking forward momentum and dribbling down her perineum and into her butthole, weakly trickling out therefrom and off her the bottom of her butt cheeks, forming a small of dark-grey asphalt beneath her pelvis. “A-A—Ahhhh!.. mmmm..”, her sigh of emptied relief stutters, then bitten bottoms lips beckon out from her nose. “Fuck. The car!..? How am I gonna drive the car now?!?!”, her mind alarmed, but so relieved of pressure is unable to determine a solution. She eventually drives her seat-soaked car to her motel, and changes in her car into something else more presentable; finally getting to her room, in which the first order of business was a hot shower. “Oh, wait, about am I going to do about the car?”, she remembers under the rain of the shower-head. “Ugh, tomorrow.. I’ll worry about it tomorrow..”, she too tired to bother..
  13. I’ve seen this one so many times. And it’s just too good that rewatching it doesn’t get old. Something about her stifled breathing is just.. mm.
  14. The hiss must’ve been superb. I know there are certain ways of making the hiss louder: it depends on force, fabric, and placement. However, with force, it usually shortens the length of wetting, but the pros is that it floods too quick for the fabric to soak, which means the flow will be displaced to further places. For example, once I wetted a diaper with force before it could probably absorb and the flow went all the way up the front and then trickled down the sides of my hips, and feeling the hotness travel all the way up there is soothing. When it comes to fabric, going commando in leggings make the hissing sound louder if one spreads one’s hips, because doing so stretches the fabric at the crotch, which makes it hover slightly away from it so that when release occurs, it travels an inch unimpeded and hits the stretched fabric, make it vibrate, that’s why placement is also important.
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