P. Anonymous

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  1. P. Anonymous

    When did you get into the fetish?

    I was in my early twenties. After accidentally finding that picture of a girl that had peed her pants, I started looking for more material and really got into the fetish. It was only then that I realized there had been small signs of the fetish in the past, like a fantasy about a girl from school peeing on my lap.
  2. P. Anonymous

    When did you get into the fetish?

    No, that's not the picture I was talking about. The blonde, topless girl in "my" picture was wearing long, light blue jeans. There was a pee stain in the crotch of her jeans that looked like it had been there for a while (like she peed her pants about 30 minutes ago). She was standing in a room, in front of a door. She had a guilty look on her face. Years later, I found a different picture with the same girl/location, so maybe it was part of a series. Does this sound familiar to anyone?
  3. P. Anonymous

    When did you get into the fetish?

    I guess it had been present in the background for a long time, but I discovered my fetish when I was surfing the Internet for erotic content, and happened to stumble upon a picture of a blonde topless woman with a wet stain in the crotch of her jeans. I wish I could find that picture again...
  4. P. Anonymous

    Susan's discovery

    Thanks for the positive feedback! If I find the time, I will try to translate more of my stories. arg08, I really appreciate your help in correcting the mistakes in my story. However, I seem to be unable to edit my original post. ? Does anyone know if this has to do with the fact that I'm only a New Member? Do I have to post more before I acquire the right to edit my previous posts?
  5. P. Anonymous

    Susan's discovery

    I've been writing Dutch omorashi stories since 2012, the first ten of which can be found on my site Vochtige Verhalen. So far I've been reluctant to translate my stories to English, mainly because of the massive amount of work it involves. But today, seven years after first writing it, I finally managed to finish the translation of my very first story. In my opinion it's not the best story I've written, but it was good training material for practicing translating. Please tell me what you think of it, and don't hesitate to correct me if you notice any mistakes in my English. Susan’s discovery The barrier of the virtually deserted parking lot automatically opened when she approached. Susan took a look at the clock in the dashboard. Half past six. It was going to be a close call, but if traffic wouldn’t let her down she should be able to reach home and change clothes in less than an hour. She dismissed the idea to take time for a proper meal on the way and drive to the wedding directly. Today of all days she had picked her comfortable blue jeans and red top. There was no way she could turn up at the party in those. Dinner would have to go by the board. She cursed her lack of assertiveness, that had kept her from leaving the overrun meeting early. It came to Susan’s mind that it wouldn’t have been a bad idea to drop by the restroom afterwards. The three cups of tea she had drunk that afternoon slowly started to put a strain on her bladder. A gas station appeared at the horizon. She decided to make a pit stop there. She pulled her car to the right side of the road, but when she reached the exit lane, she changed her mind: she was making good progress, and visiting the messy Shell toilets would take her at least five minutes. Since she had left later, all regular traffic jams had already vanished. It would probably take her as few as twenty minutes to get home. She steered back to the left lane and stepped on the gas. She cheerfully sang along with a song on the radio. Then she saw flashing speed limit signs in the distance. “Shit,” she mumbled, hitting the brake. She damned herself for being so stupid: only one hour before the wedding party of her boyfriend’s best buddy she had managed to get stuck in traffic. And to make things worse, she had to pee! With traffic coming to a halt, her appartment suddenly seemed much further away. At the same time her bladder felt much fuller than just a minute ago. She hoped traffic would soon speed up again. Half an hour later, Susan had only progressed a few miles. She had heard the discouraging radio announcement that a truck had overturned, and that all traffic was detoured along a narrow back road. Now an immense stream of cars slowly moved to that bottleneck. She had texted Will he should already go to the party, but that sweetheart had replied he would wait for her in her apartment. By now, the pressure on her bladder was overwhelming. Susan realised things might go terribly wrong. Images of her childhood entered her mind. At age twelve, she had peed her pants for the last time. Precisely during highschool bootcamp, at which the pecking order for the upcoming school year was established. During a hike in the woods, with countless opportunities to squat down unseen, she had been too shy to tell the other kids she needed a pee break. She could still vividly recall the humiliation she had felt when her classmates stared at her in disbelief. It had been a traumatic experience. Months later she had still been unable to walk through school without seeing people nudge each other as she passed. It was only due to the fact that her family had moved to the other side of the country shortly afterwards, that the incident hadn’t ruined her whole school career. Today, at age 28, she had again gotten herself into an awkward predicament. Her bladder was about to burst, but she didn’t have the slightest prospect of reaching toilet facilities anytime soon. Why had she failed to just take the exit to the gas station? The thought that she might pee her pants, made her break out in sweat. Pressing her hand between her legs, she pondered her options. The emergency lane was being used as a rush-hour lane, so it was impossible to pull over and pee behind the guardrail. For a second she considered pulling down her pants and attempting to pee in an empty water bottle. Almost instantly she rejected the idea. Driving in a queue of traffic, even a man would find it a daunting task. If she’d try it herself, it would undoubtedly result in a watery affair. On the floor in front of the passenger seat, she saw a plastic grocery bag. If she put that on her seat, at least she wouldn’t ruin the fabric. She grabbed the bag and clumsily pulled it underneath her buttocks. In case of emergency only, she told herself. She would do everything in her power to avoid wetting her pants. The next moment Susan felt a spurt of warm fluid escape from her body. She saw the crotch of her jeans turn dark blue. “Fuck!” In a desperate effort to avert a disaster, she squeezed her thighs tightly together. But she was fighting the inevitable: a second squirt soaked her briefs and reached the back of her pants. The wet fabric on her skin made it even harder to resist the urge to pee. She pressed her hand tightly against her crotch. For a few instants, she managed to put off the point of no return, but at a bump in the road a third flow announced itself. Susan fiercely tried to get back in charge of her bladder, but for ten endless seconds, her pee uncontrollably kept gushing out of her. Then she regained control over her stressed pelvic floor muscles. She still felt a strong urge, but she was determined to prevent further damage. Susan looked out of the window. Most drivers around her were killing time picking their nose, or pounding their wheel in frustration. The man in the car at her left smiled at her. Was he flirting with her? He’d be surprised to know what had just happened! A shiver went down her body. Her great fear had come true: she had peed her pants, surrounded by countless unsuspecting road users. Susan inspected the ravage she had caused. The front of her pants was wet around the spot where her pee had left her body. Otherwise, that side hadn’t suffered much damage. But because most water had flowed to the lowest point, the back of her jeans was completely drenched. How was she going to get out of her car without people noticing that? It came to her mind she could use her coat for that. If she’d wrap it around her waist, the back side would hide her wet butt from view. With her purse in front of her crotch she could shield the damage at her front side. In that way, she should be able to bridge the distance between her car and her apartment. With a shock she realized that her lover was waiting for her at her place. Will, who always made her feel like a real lady. In the two months they had been together, he had treated her like a princess. She absolutely didn’t want him to find out that, in reality, he had hooked up with an incontinent woman, who peed her pants like a little girl. She hastily keyed in Will’s phone number. “Hello?” “Hi honey, it’s me. Listen, I’m stuck in traffic. It’s gonna take me a long time to get home. You’d better go to the party now. After all, Patrick is your best friend. I will join you later on.” “Are you sure you don’t want me to wait for you?” “Yes, I’m sure. You’d better hurry.” “Are you okay?” Will asked concerned. “Your voice sounds so strange.” “Yes, I am fine.” Susan did her best to sound convincing. “Everything’s under control here.” While she said it, she took a shameful glance at the wet crotch of her pants. “Just go, I will see you in a while.” To her relief Will agreed with her proposal. Shortly after that, she reached the end of the detour. She could continue her way home at full speed. When Susan arrived at the apartment building, she first called her own landline. She let the phone ring as long as possible. No one answered it, so Will was already gone: the coast was clear! She parked her car as close to the entrance as she could. She opened the door, observed the surroundings and got out. Lightning fast she tied her coat around her waist. She assured herself that it fully covered her behind, and quickly grabbed her handbag from the driver’s seat. Holding her bag in front of her pants two-handedly, well aware of the unnatural look of this, she hurried to the entrance of the building. To avoid awkward encounters in the elevator, she took the stairs to the eighth floor. Without meeting anyone, she reached her front door. She unzipped her purse and started searching for her house keys. Where were those damn things? If they were lost, she’d have another huge problem: she still urgently needed to go to the toilet, and in her current state she couldn’t ask her neighbours for help. Luckily, she found them in the side pocket. She slung her bag over her shoulder and put the key in the lock. “Hello Susan,” she heard to her left. In a reflex she turned to the direction of the sound. Two seconds late she remembered to put her bag in front of her wet pants. Before her stood Mrs. Klump from number 809. She was an elderly lady who, in one way or another, always knew about all private details of her neighbours’ lifes, and never hesitated to share those with others. “Will told me you’re expected at a wedding, but insist on changing clothes at home.” She observed Susan extensively. “Girl, with a figure like that I’d even dare to show up at a party in tattered rags.” Susan forced a smile. Her heart was in her mouth. Apparently, falling dusk had worked to her advantage, and had kept Mrs. Klump from noticing the pee stain in her pants. Otherwise the old lady, who was notorious for her indiscretion, would certainly have asked about the how and why. The next day, every single person in the building would have known about her embarrassing incident... A moment later Susan could close the front door behind her. She released a breath of relief. She had made it to her apartment without anyone finding out about her shameful state! She untied her protecting coat. She walked to the bedroom and watched herself in the big mirror. She saw a grown-up woman who had pissed her pants. In some strange way, being In the safety of her own home now, she could actually see the humor of it. “Oh Susan, you naughty girl,” she smiled at herself. She looked at her wet butt, the modest damp stain around her crotch and her mostly still dry legs. She was about to go to the bathroom when she was struck by a peculiar thought: she had released half her bladder content in her jeans already, so why not the other half as well? Still in front of the mirror, she struck a wide-legged pose and relaxed. She felt how her panties were filled with warmth again. The wet spot in her crotch quickly expanded, to find its way down her legs in two elongated trails. Seconds later, her pee splashed onto the laminated floor. To her surprise, she realized the wet fabric on her body got her aroused. She felt a pleasant tingle between her legs. She quickly undid her zipper and pulled down her pants. In her soaking wet panties, her hand found her moist genitals. In less than no time she brought herself to a shuddering climax. “So, did anything special happen today?” Will asked after Susan had joined him. “No, nothing at all,” she lied, “only a boring day at work, and an even more boring traffic jam.” Back at home, the laundry machine erased the last traces of her secret adventure.
  6. P. Anonymous

    Any tips on writing omo fics?

    Several people here have mentioned that a good omorashi story should remain a good story with the omorashi left out. I can sort of understand why they say that, but on writers sites I have often read the tip that everything that happens in a story should contribute to the development of the characters. Everything else should be left out. So, if an omorashi scene can be left out of a story without ruining it, maybe it shouldn' t be included at all. I think that in a good omorashi story, the omorashi should play an essential role, instead of being an addition to a story that could well do without the pee stuff.
  7. P. Anonymous

    Will you ever come out with your fetish?

    I think most of the excitement of this kink stems from the feeling that it' s something to be ashamed about, and the fact that nobody else knows about it. Having a personal secret is, in my view, an important part of the fetish. Openly telling other people would spoil a lot of the fun.
  8. P. Anonymous

    Dutch omorashi stories

    Hi Oktobar2014, I'm glad to hear you like my stories, and that Google Translated doesn't ruin them too much. I will have a look at the Google Translate results some time to check if I think a manual translation is necessary. Thank you very much for posting. It's comments like yours that make me want to publish more stories!
  9. P. Anonymous

    Dutch omorashi stories

    I started translating my first story to English years ago, but I stopped when I was halfway because it was too much work to get every sentence just right, and I felt that, in the mean time, I had written better stories that deserved a translation much more than my first story did. Knowing how much work it is to make a proper translation, I'm very flattered that someone would be willing to go through the trouble of translating my stories. If you decide to give it a try, I hope you won't mind if I make some small corrections on the result. (For example, changing "too" into "to" whenever it's not meant as a translation for the dutch word "ook" ?)
  10. P. Anonymous

    Dutch omorashi stories

    Hi everyone! I'm I guy from the Netherlands who likes to write omorashi stories. Unfortunately, my stories are all in dutch, so I can't post them here. But since this forum has quite some dutch speaking members, I figured I'd post a link to my stories here: https://vochtigeverhalen.home.blog/
  11. In 2012, having been fascinated by female desperation and wetting for years, I started writing my own omorashi stories. Since I figured these stories, written in the dutch language, might appeal to more people than just myself,I decided to publish them on a general erotic story site. Having published four stories, I'm afraid I must conclude that the average reader is not interested in narratives about girls peeing their pants. Therefore, I'm looking for a better place to post my stories to. I cannot post them here, because they are in not in english. Are there any people from the Netherlands or Belgium out here who know a dutch omorashi community that would be interested in my stories? By the way, you can find my stories here. They are in reverse chronological order, so I advise you to start reading at the bottom of the list.