Jump to content
Existing user? Sign In

Sign In



Sign Up

Not-a-fish

Dry Member
  • Posts

    3
  • Joined

  • Last visited

  • Days Won

    1

Not-a-fish last won the day on June 27 2023

Not-a-fish had the most liked content!

4 Followers

Recent Profile Visitors

1,954 profile views

Not-a-fish's Achievements

  1. Can’t wait for the next story. Any idea when you’ll post the next one? Your last was so amazing and detailed

    1. Helloworldiwea

      You have visited multiple times since your last post, with the most recent being within 24 hours. However, I do not see any response from you here on your post. Do you have any actual plans to write more stories about the girl in the last story, such as her birthday, that you alluded to during the story? You mentioned you have more to tell but have not said anything to everyone who is waiting. Do you actually have these stories? Have you started writing? We have been waiting over a month to hear anything from you, yet there has been nothing. Not even a mention that you have began the next story or maybe it will be out at some point in august? September? You can’t even respond to a simple question?! Really?

  2. Hi everyone, I’ve previously posted (a while ago) about an experience I had at the beach. I wrote this up as I was writing that, thinking I’d share it soon after, but life got in the way. I’ve kept it in the notes on my phone since then, and decided I’d share it now: I thought I’d share one of my favourite memories with you today. I go over it in my head regularly, and still can’t believe it happened! I hope you all enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed it happening. In the UK, the last two years of school before university are called 6th Form. You enter aged 16 after your GCSEs, and leave at 18 in year 12 with your A Level exams. When I went to 6th form, I had a “close friend” that I’ll call Elena (obviously, not her real name). We flirted regularly, spent almost all of our time together (frequently just the two of us), and I’ve since discovered we were widely known as a couple even if we hadn’t decided that yet. We were comfortable with each other by this point after being nearly inseparable for most of the two years, and could often be found asleep, curled up on the sofa together at one of our houses after a long day’s revision. Elena was a relatively tall girl, not skinny but definitely not overweight, with long blond hair reaching most of the way down her back. She was very pretty - at least, I thought so. She was also very shy, but gained confidence with me over time. Where I went to 6th form, we still had to wear smart clothes - you could either wear a suit (or equivalent for girls) or the school uniform. Most who had been to the school prior to 6th form continued wearing the uniform, which was a white shirt with a blue and white striped tie, navy blue jumper or blazer, and navy blue trousers (or navy blue skirt - sometimes with navy tights - for girls). Elena was one of these people, and always wore the skirt, often with tights, and the jumper when she was cold. Elena and I used to meet each other on the train every morning, and would sit opposite each other where we could. I mentioned we both flirted with each other a lot, and one of the ways Elena liked to mess with me was to sit with one leg on the air vent at the base of the wall of the train, at just the right angle so I would get glimpses up her skirt but no-one else could. Because of this, I knew the panties she would often wear (my favourites of hers had a pink-and-white horizontal striped section on her bum, and a teal blue section on the front with a picture of an owl on) and I never tired of her flashing me. Elena also had a very small bladder - she would often be squirming in her seat by the end of a lesson, and it was not uncommon for me to see a wet patch buried in the crotch of her knickers on the train journey home. She never seemed shy about this, and even told me about a previous incident at her 18th birthday party (to which I was apparently oblivious, despite being practically next to her at the time), which I might share at some point. At the end of year 13, we both had our A Level exams. These were long, and difficult, and were important as they decided whether we got into university. They were often over 2 hours long, and although you were permitted to use the toilets that would be at the expense of time you could be writing. Elena had previously struggled with exams, said her AS exams (the previous year) took her close to a full blown “accident” during them, and was worried about her A Levels. However, we had both talked about needing to pee during exams and decided that for our upcoming ones, we might be better off “having an accident” rather than wasting time leaving the hall - we reasoned that this reduced our distraction and maximised our time writing. I never dreamt this would actually happen, though! One very hot day, we had our last exam. We were both very nervous about it, as it was nearly 3 hours long and made up the bulk of our marks for one subject. As it was a hot day, everyone was drinking lots of water, and Elena was no exception. We’d met up as usual on the train, and she had shown me she was wearing my favourite pair of her panties! We talked about the exam and how the others had gone, and made some plans to celebrate the end of 6th form together for the weekend in the pub. When the time came, we went into the exam hall and took our assigned seats. I was one file to the left of Elena, and about 3 rows behind. The exam papers were handed out, and we began. I actually found the exam alright - I kept to time and managed to finish half an hour early. Throughout the exam, I could see Elena growing more and more restless out of the corner of my eye. At one point she raised her hand, but put it down before the invigilator came over and said she was fine when they did - I knew she was struggling. She looked around a few times, and by the 2 hour window I could see one hand buried in her crotch and her legs crossed over it, the other still frantically writing. She was desperate, more so than I had ever seen her before. I saw her gasp a few times and briefly sit bolt upright - I’m sure she was leaking. I’m not sure if my memory is deceiving me but I might even have seen a damp patch reach the back of her skirt where she was sitting on it. When I had finished, I looked up and saw her practically dancing in her seat, wriggling around, crossing and uncrossing her legs, putting her pen down and picking it back up again repeatedly. She was trying to focus (she was always cute when she was focussed) but couldn’t sit still. She looked around at me again and we made eye contact for a second; I saw pure panic in her eyes. I tried to give her a reassuring smile before looking away for fear of the invigilators thinking we were cheating. I looked back again and saw her look at me, close her eyes and sigh. Her shoulders sagged, she looked down at her crotch, and I knew what was coming. Her pee streamed off the seat in all directions, splattering on the hard floor and puddling at her feet. The noise was immense in the quiet exam hall, and I’m sure everyone was looking at her. It continued for what felt like an age - it must’ve been more than two minutes - before easing off. To her credit, once she’d finished she refused all help, stayed seated and continued the exam to the last minute, although she was doing so through tears and sobs. Once we’d finished, we were dismissed file by file. She remained seated when her row left, and I waited for her outside. She was the last one to leave and was still crying when she came out - I immediately gave her a hug and steered her away from everyone else who’d left. We found a quiet corner where I tried to calm her down a bit, and we talked about what had happened. She said she had been trying to hold on to the end and had been panicking about finishing the exam. When she’d looked round, she remembered what we’d talked about and decided she didn’t have any other option - she didn’t think she’d last to the end anyway, and commented that she definitely wouldn’t have held through the queues for the toilets that had built up. She seemed ok with that - she felt it was better to do it on her terms than have a desperate rush to the loo at the end, only to be foiled by a queue and loose control in a crowd. We assessed the damage she had done as we waited until we thought the crowds of students would have left. The back of her skirt was sodden and there was a wet streak at the front where she’d been holding herself even as she let go; her tights were shiny all the way down the back and her shoes squelched whilst she walked. She turned away to lift her skirt and drop her tights to look at her knickers, but couldn’t see much so turned back for my opinion. Her shirt tails had turned from white to yellow, front and back, and were translucent and sticking to her underwear. The white stripes on the seat of her pants had turned translucent all the way up to the waistband, and her pee seemed to have wicked up and around the sides of the leg holes. The teal section to the front was a much deeper blue with only the faintest hints of the original colour over her hips. They still dripped, and seemed to cling to her body, emphasising every contour. Once I’d relayed this to her (in fewer words - “they’re f**ked”, I think), she redressed herself and matter-of-factly said we may as well head to the station. We walked the mile or so to the station along a quiet residential road, until we got to an alleyway we had to go down. I had noticed Elena walking quickly and assumed she wanted to spend as little time in public as possible. Once we got to the alleyway, though, she ducked off to a side and pulled me in - I now noticed she was dancing a bit again and asked if she was ok. She looked sheepish and said she needed to pee again, this by now a good hour or more since she had let go in the exam hall. We both knew there were no toilets between where we were and either of our houses; I lived closer so I thought about saying she could come to mine if she thought she could hold it. I realised, though, that she owed me a dare, and decided to cash in. I remember this bit vividly. “I dare you to wet yourself here, now” I said. “What, in this alleyway?” She seemed shocked at the thought. “Yeah - you’ve already done it so no one would notice, and you’d at least be relaxed for the journey home…” She thought about it for a second, then agreed: “I guess so - it would warm my legs up a bit too”. She winked at me. I think she knew I was enjoying myself. She looked up and down the alleyway quickly, then ducked back into the crevice we were hiding in. She closed her eyes for a second, still holding herself through her skirt, and focused. Opening her eyes once more, she looked at me and looked down, “Here goes.” I looked down too and she seemed to wait a second, before I’m sure I heard a faint hiss and saw a blossom of glistening dampness erupt in her skirt around the hand still firmly placed in her crotch. It ran down the folds tucked between her crossed legs and her tights gleamed in the summer sunlight. A puddle began to grow at her feet, and the streams running down both her legs were rapidly followed by a waterfall behind them, falling straight down. She relaxed, removed her hand and spread her legs, before looking at me and reaching down to lift the hem of her skirt. My eyes must have bulged as she lowered the waistband of her tights once more, bunching them around her knees as she showed off her panties, pee running straight through them and falling into the gathered crotch of her tights, and at the same time running down both her thighs before falling at her knees, through the same tights and onto the floor. As her stream died, she looked at me again. “That’s better”, she sighed, before looking around. She seemed to realise what she had done, and dropped the hem of her skirt in shock. She seemed about ready to cry again, so I gingerly stepped into her puddle and pulled her in for a hug, trying to reassure her that things were ok, that I wasn’t going to stop talking to her just because she’d had and accident, and reminding her I’d suggested she pee in her pants the second time. She seemed reassured by this, and looked me in the eyes. “What should I do now?” She asked. I suggested she go home and have a shower, and clean herself up. She realised with a squeak of shock that her brother was at home, and that she didn’t want him to see her in wet clothes. She was mortified at the idea, so I suggested she came to mine (I had the house to myself for the evening and had no real plans) and we could work something out from there. We agreed we would do this, and she seemed calmed once more. She looked down at her puddle again, and toed it tentatively, tights still gathered around her knees, occasional drops falling from her drenched knickers. She said “I guess I’d better do something about these”, and with that she slipped one foot out of its shoe, whipped the tight leg off, and slid the shoe back on in one movement. She attempted this for the other foot but overbalanced and fell against me, putting her still-tighted foot down into her puddle. Once she had removed her tights and re-shod her left foot, she squeezed them out as best she could and placed them in her bag, both of us hoping they wouldn’t soak through for her sake. Her still-dripping skirt was harder to solve, and we decided to just act as best we could that there was no issue and hope no one looked too closely. The train to mine was heaven for me - Elena took up her usual position, and without tights I had a spectacular view of her soaked knickers and I’m sure I shall never forget that sight. She knew full well I was looking, and enjoying what I saw, and pulled her skirt back to make sure the view was maintained for the journey. When we stood up to get off, she again made eye contact with me and, with a cheeky smile, winked. We walked (or squelched, in her case) around the corner to my house and I let us in. Once in, she took off her shoes and we headed upstairs. We went into the bathroom, and I turned away to show her how to use the shower. When I turned back, she had undone her blouse and was midway through dropping her skirt, leaving her in her clean white bra and amazingly hot, soaking wet teal knickers. I gathered up her discarded clothes and pulled her tights from her bag, offering to put them into the washing machine. As I turned to leave, she caught my shoulder and told me to wait a minute. She clambered into the bath and stood in front of me, legs apart, crotch around the level of my navel. She looked at me again, looked down, looked at me again and seemed to tense her core before squeezing a short dribble of pee out through her panties. “Thought I may as well make sure it wasn’t going to happen again” she explained, before telling me to stand outside the door, close my eyes, and hold my hand up. I did so, and heard some rustling before feeling her place some damp wet fabric on my hand, briefly hold my hand through it, let go and disappear behind the shut door. I opened my eyes and saw her panties laid out in my hand, and her bra at my feet. She had a shower as I put her uniform in to wash, and got her a t shirt and a pair of my boxers out to wear whilst waiting for her clothes to dry. Elena was brought up in a strictly Christian family and hence had strong beliefs about waiting for marriage, which I of course respected. We cuddled whilst waiting for her clothes to dry, and then she went and changed back into her underwear before redressing into her full uniform next to me. I walked her to the station, onto the platform, and we again hugged whilst waiting for the train. She went home, and was texting me, as she normally would, even before the doors had closed. I wished I’d kissed her then. We met up as planned for the weekend, and this was the trigger that took us from “close friends” to dating. We saw each other for well over a year after that fateful, wet exam (and had a few more stories I could tell you all) before life inevitably took us on different paths. I’m blessed it was an amicable ending to our time, but I do still miss her sometimes - not that anything will ever happen, she lives across the country from me and we’re both in committed relationships. I hope you enjoyed hearing about the best exam of my life. If there is demand (I suspect there might be) I shall get a few more of our experiences written up to share with you all. (Obviously, names changed to protect the guilty).
  3. I’ve been a lurker on here for a while now, trying to find a story I can post without worrying about anonymity. However, I’m currently on holiday in south west England and this brought to mind an experience a few years ago nearby. To the best of my memory, everyone involved is over the age of consent in the UK, I was probably 18 at the time. So, to set the scene. Imagine a sunny beach in south west England, popular with surfers. It’s in a small bay, surrounded by campsites, a holiday “resort” (in the loosest sense of the word) and a small village, with a public toilet block at the back of the beach. There’s an onshore breeze blowing and probably a 4-5ft swell. I (white male, about 18 years old) was trying (and failing) to get up on a surfboard properly, and found myself next to two lovely ladies, slightly younger than me but not more than a year or two, who were trying the same. One was taller and slim, with maybe brown-blond hair wearing a full length wetsuit, the other slightly shorter and wearing a wetsuit with the top half hanging down from her waist and her bikini on underneath. We had some words in passing, and struck up conversation. Out of the blue, the shorter one asked me “if you needed to pee, you’d just do it in the sea, right?”. I said I probably would (why not?), and was told her friend needed to pee but wanted to walk all the way to the back of the beach to the toilets. Even with the two of us saying she should stay in the sea, she went off walking up the beach. While she was gone, I got talking to the first one. Lots was said (most of which I can’t remember) and we had a few jokes about how long her friend was being (notably one about how embarrassing it would be if there was a queue and she couldn’t hold it…). Suddenly, the lass still with me announced she needed to pee too. I (of course) asked if she was going for a walk or if she was just going to do it in the sea, and was told she didn’t see the point in going all the way to the toilets. I agreed (naturally), and definitely enjoyed being told it was “about to come out” and “oooh, it’s so much warmer”. I do wish I’d suggested (perhaps as a dare) she walk a bit into shore though - would’ve been nice to see it running down her legs… Anyway, her friend came back a bit later (after initially mistaking a couple making out on the beach for the two of us - ngl I wouldn’t have said no to either of them!) and (sadly) confirmed she had indeed made it to the toilet, it was just a long way. I did enjoy the mental image of a taller, slim young lady in a well-fitted wetsuit getting increasingly desperate and eventually losing control, though! As with all good things, this sadly came to an end. They both had to go back to their holiday “resort” and I to my campsite, and although we all made vague noises about being back at the beach the next day this never happened. I’ve always wondered if the one who stayed with me was into omorashi, but it’s one of those things I doubt I’ll ever know. It was very fun at the time, and gave me lots of fantasies to have fun with over the coming months. I hope you all enjoyed the story! Peace (or piss…) out ✌️
  4. Very nice story - I haven't had that during my job yet, but I live in hope xD. I'm pretty sure I've seen a swimmer have an accident on the edge, but not sure - I was more bothered by those in the water One thing to point out though - regardless of where you are in the pool, you need to cover it just the same as someone could get in from another area (or another lifeguard could have enter the water, meaning you'd have to temporarily supervise their zone too). Just saying...
×
×
  • Create New...