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  1. I’m a cis woman who crossdresses en homme (“as a man”). I have long hair, which I don’t want to cut, so I put it up and put a wig over it when I crossdress. I had decided to crossdress tonight, so I put my hair up, put my wig on, and used binding tape to flatten my chest. I also changed into a pair of men’s boxer briefs so I could fit my packer in the pocket fly (or whatever that thing is called) before putting on men’s jeans and a t-shirt. After I put on the clothes, I felt like I was missing something, so I started experimenting with a new packing method I had thought about. I took one of those triangle-shaped removable bra pads, rolled it into a cylinder-ish shape, and put it into the pocket of my boxer briefs. About halfway through this process, I felt the need to pee and started wishing I had my stand-to-pee device with me so I could pee standing up. I thought about taking off my wig and going to the bathroom (I live in a dorm and I’m not comfortable going outside en homme yet), but I didn’t want to take the time to redo it afterward, so I’ve been holding it for the past hour. I’ve also been drinking a lot of water to put more pressure on myself. I’m currently at a 8/10. The waistband of my jeans is cutting into my bladder, and it’s soooo uncomfortable. But the discomfort is what I’m looking for. Will update.
  2. Hope you’re all well. I was wondering if anyone out there was into making men hold and wet? I guess the whole visual thing of male wetting is far less appealing to most and I get that, but how about the emotional side of controlling and making a guy wet? I’ve had a few sexual partners who, while not encouraging, were okay with me wetting during sex, or nonchalant about it anyway - usually as a result of post orgasm “torture” etc but not expressly into making me/seeing me wet myself. for me I’ve always enjoyed the idea of being made to pee myself wearing women’s clothes and I’m happy for this to be a private thing but wonder if there are any people out there who would derive some pleasure from making this sort of thing happen? I commissioned some customs which I’ve shared in the video thread on this and also paid a couple of dommes on pocketstars to make me wet myself but this is as far as I’ve ever gone with it.
  3. The Party Marco sipped at his juice nervously. He was currently at a party at Saint Olga’s School for Wayward Princesses, one of the many parties the school had since Miss Heinous was driven out of the school. Marco was told that the party would be more casual than usual, so instead of the normal Princess Turdina fit, he simply wore his normal hoodie with a black skirt, along with the usual wig. However, the party seemed to be even wilder than what was standard at the school, Marco felt extremely anxious throughout most of the party, and it only got worse as the night progressed, trying to distract himself with the punch. “Heyyyy, Earth-Turd!” Called a shrill, annoying voice from a few feet away. He looked over to see Ponyhead approaching him. “How are you enjoying the party? Craaazy, right?” He cringed at her voice. “Yeah, um… I think I’m going to leave ea-” “Booooo.” Ponyhead interrupted. Marco stayed silent for a second before continuing. “As I was saying, I’m going to leave early, so tell Star that she has to borrow Princess Arms’ scissors.” “Why are you leaving so soon though!? The party’s only getting started!” “Well… I’m just feeling dizzy and anxious and-” Marco noticed Ponyhead snickering, clearly trying to hold back a fit of laughter. “What's so funny?” “Okay, so I may have had something to do with that.” “What do you mean?” Ponyhead's laughter picked up before she continued. “I SPIKED THE DRINKS! HA!” “What!?” Marco dropped his cup. “I've never had a drop of alcohol before, and now I've been drinking it all night!? I gotta tell Star and-” “Relax, Earth-Turd, this ain't Star's first rodeo. Besides, look, she’s having fun!” Ponyhead motioned with her head to Star, who was doing a worm dance on a table. “Weirdly, she doesn't seem different at all,” Marco commented. “Look, just make sure she gets home safe, alright?” “Mmm-hmm, that’s alright, I gotcha.” Ponyhead said, not paying much attention to what he was saying. That was all the confirmation Marco needed at the moment. He took out his scissors and opened a portal. He went through it, entering his room on the other side. As he closed the portal behind him, he began feeling a strange feeling in his abdomen. “Crap.” He thought to himself. He really should use the bathroom, he’d be more comfortable that way. On the other hand… He looked at his bed. Sleeping sounds REALLY appealing right now, though. He collapsed in his bed and fell asleep. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Marco woke up what felt like not long after that, only to see that his room flooded with water. As soon as he noticed, he yelped and sat up. “Heyyyy, Marco!” Called a voice from the door. He looked up to see it was Star. “I made the house into a pool again Marco! And I made it even BETTER this time!” “Why would you do thaAAAAT-” Marco’s voice cracked and he grabbed his crotch as his bladder punished him for not going to the bathroom last night. “Look, can you just give me a ride to the bathroom? The last thing I need right now is wet socks.” He shuddered at the thought. “Okay! Hop on!” Star moved the raft over to Marco. Marco took a moment to get on it and nearly fell in trying, but Star grabbed onto him at the last second. “Woah, easy there.” She said casually, beginning to row out of his room. Now that he was safely on the raft his attention re-shifted to the heavy weight inside of him. He shook violently, wanting to do nothing more than sit on the toilet and let loose. “We nearly there, Star?” “Don’t worry, we’re nearly there, Marco! Just hold on a little more!” Marco looked up and saw that they were entering the bathroom. The water in the room was thankfully at a lower level than that of his bedroom. Despite how desperate he was, he still took the time to take his shoes and socks off, leaving them on the raft. He then got off and sat on the toilet, pulled off his underwear, and let it all go. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the toilet. Though… weirdly it didn’t feel like it was going in the toilet. He opened his eyes and looked down. Nope, it definitely was going in the toilet. As he looked, he noticed Star was looking at him lifelessly. “Uh… do you mind?” Marco asked. “Oh, sorry.” She twisted around on the raft, now staring in the opposite direction. The stream went on for another little while, before slowing down and stopping. He pulled his underwear and re-adjusted his skirt. “Phew. You can look now.” Star turned back around. “You feeling better, buddy?” “Way better.” “Soooooo, ready to enjoy the new water park in your house!?” “Heck yeah, let’s do this!” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Marco woke up groggily, with his face on a pillow. He had a massive headache. His thoughts drifted to the previous day, and also his dream. “Ah, so it was a dream. Makes sense, Star wouldn’t do that… again.” As he thought, he began to realize something. There was a warm sensation around his hips and legs. He turned over and… “OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD, OH GOD!” There was a massive wet spot on the bed and on both his skirt and hoodie. “How did this happen!? Oh god, how am I gonna explain this!?” Just then, the door opened quickly, startling Marco. “Hey, Marco! Guess whaaaaaaaa… what?” She looked down at the result of Marco’s accident. “Uh… too much to drink at the party?” “Ugh, yeah, I-” He stopped talking for a second. “Wait, how do I know this isn’t another dream?” “Pinch yourself, I guess? I don’t feel like a dream person.” Marco did as she said, and confirmed that he was not in fact dreaming. “Damn it… I really wet the bed huh?” “Don’t worry, I can fix that right up!” She took out her wand and aimed it at Marco and the bed. “Star wait, no!” A green light hit the bed, and before he knew it, his clothes and the bed dried off. “Huh. For once that busted wand seemed to wo-” What he was saying was interrupted by his bed suddenly coming to life and running around the room. For Omovember Day 23 and Day 24: In a Skirt and Wetting the Bed
  4. From the album: Predicament sketches

    The girl sitting next to you in class has some secrets. She tries very hard, but at least one of her secrets is about to be spilled all over the bench and floor.
  5. (Wanted to write a fic like this for a while now! A friend of mine talked about it with me. I'll definitely make this into a series with more characters and scenarios, but at the moment this was partially to see if I could still write good desperation because I haven't written something like this in a good long while Also I like to think you can enjoy this series without any prior fandom knowledge!) An elusive and exclusive prep school loomed over the city, surrounded by trees and casting its shadow down onto the remainder of the buildings. Once the school was open for all elite high-school students who were hand-picked by the staff themselves to continue cultivating their talents and graduate with honors and a headstart on life, but due to recent events, certain aspects of the school had to be changed. Now only a former class lives in the school, keeping it as their permeant place of residence until further notice. Things are not all bad and dreary for them. In one universe, they get taken advantage of and picked off one by one, and in another, they find a way out and contribute to society. In this universe, however, things are good, but decidedly more wet. - A blonde pigtailed woman sat at her array of computers, sighing in boredom to herself, resting her head on her hand. "Ugh, why won't they get off my case! How many times do I gotta send them videos?!" Junko groaned. "Even someone like myself can only wet themselves a certain amount of times a week before it just gets dull!" She stood up and instead focused her attention on the security camera feeds, showing all the rooms of the school as well as her various beloved classmates, going about their days. "I wish they could be good for something," Most of them were doing stuff that were boring her to tears; eating, reading, exercising, chatting, typical teenage stuff. Still...Junko recalled the various pieces of information one learned scouring the web as much as she did. Her classmates weren't as innocent as they appeared to be, and if there was one thing she knew from her favourite omorashi site on the whole Internet, it was that people loved seeing celebrities wet themselves! And she had an entire class full of celebrities! And what could cause a celebrity more despair than wetting themselves on television?! She drooled starting to think about it and sat back down at her computer, typing some things out and changing some aspects of her clothing. She still needed to look the part of Junko Enoshima, sultry yet innocent fashion model, the part her sister was currently playing while she kept things in order from behind-the-scenes. Junko laughed to herself as she continued thinking about it. Making her classmates participate in some of her omorashi fantasies....it was more despairful than she could possibly bear! - "Mornin' everyone!" Junko smiled politely, giving a peace-sign as she walked into the cafeteria with a tray full of drinks. Her classmates nodded at her presence even as she started to serve them. Luckily, her sister was nowhere in sight so she could easily put her plan into motion without any confusion from her class. A few of the more observant ones gave her more suspicious glances but still picked out their drink. She smirked to herself; she had spiked them all with powerful diuretics! Just to speed the process along, of course. Her next question was who to follow? She had her phone camera ready, she had fifteen possible choices...who would it be? The people on those omorashi forums all had different tastes and Junko knew she could only pick one classmate for the day....so many options though. From her daily and nightly camera sessions she knew she had different options; one was a bedwetter, two liked to pee outside, one had a small bladder, one had a desperation kink, one liked bladder-play, one had a 'peeing in uniforms' kink, the list went on. "Enoshima-chan? Want to hang out with me today? I was going to sing some karaoke!" Sayaka asked cheerfully, making Junko nod. She would do nicely. "Of course! Lemme just put down my tray," Junko did so and followed after Sayaka, staring at her. She committed her look to memory; her long blue hair kept neat by hair clips, her smell of cherry blossoms, her thin yet muscular figure, her cute and simple blue schoolgirl outfit with black thigh-highs, and her large breasts. She looked like a perfect pop idol; fitting for being the Ultimate Idol, and anyone who knew their celebrity tidbits knew she was a hot commodity both on and off the forums. Yes, perfect for her first target. The two girls headed up to the music room and Junko hung back as she watched Sayaka set up the karaoke machine, smiling breezily. "What shall we sing? One of my songs?" She teased. "We can sing whatever," Junko shrugged and took a microphone. "Alright! Then I'll pick something!" A cheery pop tune blasted through the speakers and Sayaka danced a bit in tune, making her skirt swish. "Do you know this one?" "Of course I do! What kind of a fashionista would I be if I didn't know popular songs?!" It was the truth, they always played stuff like this whenever she strutted down the runway. It wasn't bad, just overplayed to her. Sayaka smiled and started singing, nice and cool the way an idol was expected to. She swung her hips around. Junko joined in, keeping an eye on Sayaka. Her analytical side started to come out as she recalled Sayaka drinking two cups of tea at breakfast, two servings of diuretics! She surely wouldn't be long now. Of course, no omorashi fan worth her salt would possibly dare to partake in such an elaborate scheme without including herself! What would be more despair-inducing than your classmates wetting themselves in front of you? You wetting yourself in front of your classmates! Naturally, Junko filled herself up on five cups of tea before she made her classmates' drinks, knowing part of the fun of omorashi wasn't just watching people be desperate and wet themselves, it was also being desperate and wetting yourself! She heard Sayaka get tripped up a bit and looked over, finding her bent over slightly and still trying to sing, wincing a bit. "Hmmmm? Is something wrong?" Junko asked cutely. "You can tell me 'cuz we're both girls!" "It's nothing." Sayaka tried to smile before she winced again. "Let's finish this song," "If ya say so!" Even Junko could feel her own bladder starting to fill, nothing major but enough to notice. But would she actually wet herself? Or maybe she'd make it while Sayaka was stuck and had no choice but to pee herself! Oh the despair! Or maybe she'd wet herself and make Sayaka even more desperate! Decisions, decisions! Once the song finished, Sayaka moved to switch it to another, only to wince and let out a quiet gasp. Junko pretended to stare at her red nails but secretly watched Sayaka, who had bent over and tightly crossed her legs, a hand on her front. "Sure you're okay?" She asked cutely once again. "Well..." Sayaka stood up straight and looked around before stepping closer. "Don't tell anyone else, but," She played with her hair slightly. "I have a really small bladder. Everything I drink goes right through me! I was hoping I could've sung some more beforehand, but..." Junko smirked to herself. "Come on, it's not anything to be ashamed of! We're all the best of friends in here! Let's keep singing!" "Alright," Sayaka tried to focus on singing the next song, clearly one of her faves, but her dancing was less cutesy and more desperate as she bounced from foot to foot, her heels clacking on the floor. She anxiously tugged on the bottom of her skirt and squirmed around. "Ya know, nobody's around....you could very easily go in something," Junko suggested, starting to feel her own need. "I gotta go too," "There's a bathroom on this floor, isn't there?" Sayaka tried to remember before pouting. "No...I don't think so," "Why does that matter? It's like ya said, we're both girls here, and all of us are friends on top of that!" Junko subtly pulled out her camera phone. "Still...I'm an idol, I can't risk something like that," Sayaka seemed utterly uninterested in finishing their karaoke session, instead hugging herself tightly and trembling, her face pale. She tightly crossed her legs together and rested her back against the wall, squirming around. Junko found herself wondering why Sayaka didn't just hoof it to the bathroom. There was nothing stopping her, she very easily could...was it possible Sayaka was more kinky than Junko originally pegged her as? She wasn't the one with a desperation kink, but she clearly was into something, otherwise she wouldn't keep this up, right? Oh well. More desperation for her! As she filmed, she felt her own need grow and subtly pulled down her super-short skirt, trying to hide it from Sayaka as best as she could. Actually, why did she care if Sayaka could see her or not?! She wanted Sayaka to see her predicament! Thus, she rubbed her knees together and kept her phone hidden, faking a wince. "Oh no, you have to go too? Let's go to the third floor, I know for a fact they have bathrooms there!" Sayaka grabbed Junko's arm suddenly without warning and dragged her off, nearly making her lose her grip on her phone. The two girls ran together until they reached the third floor, Sayaka gasping in surprise when she saw the girls' was closed for cleaning. "But how? We're the only ones here!" She bounced up and down. "What a stroke of bad luck!" Junko gasped fakely, knowing her sister had set that up earlier to help her in her scheme. Though she supposed that would just ruin her own plan as well. "Maybe you could use the boys'!" "No way!" Sayaka tightly held herself then, both hands clutching her blue skirt tightly. "There has to be something else...since I have a small bladder..." She took off running again and Junko ran after her, still filming her. The two ran until they reached the kitchen, Sayaka slightly out-of-breath. She looked around. "Can you keep an eye out?" "Sure, whatever," Junko stood near the door but had no intention of keeping an eye out for anyone. She pulled her phone out now that Sayaka had her back turned and filmed more clearly. Sayaka continued to hold herself tightly as she very slowly eased herself onto the sink counter, rolling up her skirt and pulling down her pink panties adorned with a bow, adjusting her stance. A few seconds later, she started to pee loudly into the metal sink, covering her face as it splattered down the drain. Junko noticed she kept her legs open ever-so-slightly to tease the briefest view of a stream and zoomed in on it with her camera, rubbing her knees together as the loud sound made her own need more urgent. Sayaka sighed in relief and redressed herself after the sound died down, jumping off the sink with grace. "So...." Junko began, hiding her camera again. "Since I have a small bladder, I'm used to peeing in strange places. You can't be picky in circumstances like that, you know?" Sayaka answered with a thoughtful expression. Junko felt as though it was something more than that, because why else would she deliberately avoid an actual toilet and pee in the sink instead? Whatever, it mattered little! She had some good content for her forum! "Want to finish singing? Did you want to go before we do?" "Nah, I'm going back to my room. I'm done. Byebye!" She waved, dashing off. Sayaka waved back in slight confusion, wondering about the sudden urgency in Junko's character. She walked back up to the music room herself and started to put the karaoke machine away. - In her surveillance room, Junko grinned to herself as she uploaded the video to her forum, twirling her chair around as she read the replies, almost all positive, as she expected. Who didn't want to see a cute and innocent idol being desperate and then shamelessly peeing in a sink like that? Still, Sayaka was one person out of an entire class. If Junko wanted to keep this attention and praise up, she'd need to tap into all their omorashi kinks and do so as subtly as possible. Sayaka was easy-peasy but she knew the others wouldn't bite as easily. Still, that was a problem for another day. She loved all of her classmates so much, she didn't mind who she spent the next day with! Easygoing Makoto? Domineering Celestia? Shy Chihiro? Boisterous Aoi? The options were up to her fabulous forum friends....
  6. 82 downloads

    this is a recording of a wetting from a wonderful hold i did last night. it's also my second time posting a video. all that said and done i hope you enjoy me absolutely soaking the bathroom floor in a variety of positions! 🙂
    Free
  7. my second wetting video View File this is a recording of a wetting from a wonderful hold i did last night. it's also my second time posting a video. all that said and done i hope you enjoy me absolutely soaking the bathroom floor in a variety of positions! 🙂 Submitter Iincogneko Submitted 02/04/2023 Category Male  
  8. Sonador

    Drinks 012

    From the album: Poses and Short Sequences

    Oh boy. Looks like Mizu found a good substitute for the bathroom! And just in time, this pupper's about to POP! I'm sure he'll be able to empty his bladder just fine without any interruptions. None at all...
  9. From the album: Poses and Short Sequences

    Oh boy. Looks like Mizu found a good substitute for the bathroom! And just in time, this pupper's about to POP! I'm sure he'll be able to empty his bladder just fine without any interruptions. None at all...
  10. From the album: Poses and Short Sequences

    Oh boy. Looks like Mizu found a good substitute for the bathroom! And just in time, this pupper's about to POP! I'm sure he'll be able to empty his bladder just fine without any interruptions. None at all...
  11. From the album: Poses and Short Sequences

    Oh boy. Looks like Mizu found a good substitute for the bathroom! And just in time, this pupper's about to POP! I'm sure he'll be able to empty his bladder just fine without any interruptions. None at all...
  12. From the album: Poses and Short Sequences

    When you're this desperate and nobody will tell you where the bathroom is, nature's call can start to emphasize... "Nature." Oh, Mizu...
  13. From the album: Poses and Short Sequences

    When you're this desperate and nobody will tell you where the bathroom is, nature's call can start to emphasize... "Nature." Oh, Mizu...
  14. From the album: Poses and Short Sequences

    The drinks might be free here, but after a while you might find that they still have a price... ...and that you may end up with a big problem if you don't know where the nearest bathroom is!
  15. From the album: Poses and Short Sequences

    The drinks might be free here, but after a while you might find that they still have a price... ...and that you may end up with a big problem if you don't know where the nearest bathroom is!
  16. From the album: Poses and Short Sequences

    The drinks might be free here, but after a while you might find that they still have a price... ...and that you may end up with a big problem if you don't know where the nearest bathroom is!
  17. Crossdresser peeing View File There we go, I think I finally found the correct way to post this hahahhaha Submitter JoeDuhBear Submitted 05/14/2022 Category Male  
  18. 134 downloads

    There we go, I think I finally found the correct way to post this hahahhaha
    Free
  19. 2,242 downloads

    Full eroge archive of the Omorashi scenes uploaded to the gallery. VNDB: https://vndb.org/v23048
    Free
  20. Here4theFun

    Bratty Al

    From the album: Here4theFun's Digital Art

    Al has been punished for disobeying and being a Brat in general. No he has been locked in a chastity cage and can only pee and cum with permission. Will he obey the rules or will he go back to his old ways?
  21. Between the Industrial Revolution and World War I, there was an explosion in cases of “female men” who took advantage of urbanization and its conditions of anonymity to pass for male. We don’t know how many there were, because for every female man who was exposed in the press there might have been dozens who successfully avoided detection. Historians frequently argue over whether particular female men should be considered transgender persons, proto-feminists seeking economic opportunities not available to women at the time, or butch lesbians protecting themselves and their lovers from scrutiny; such debates end in useless tangles of rhetoric and politics which merely serve to illustrate that while queer people have always existed, our current labels for categorizing them have not. Here we have an excerpt from a document dating from “the Gay ‘90s” that was discovered in an attic in Boston. Middle class housewife Polly M_____ lovingly describes her “female husband” Charles M_____, and relates his ability to retain urine for long periods to protect the couple from exposure. She recalls an incident where Charles was harshly tried in this regard. The anecdote offers a remarkable window into the intimate lives of this extraordinary couple. It may be read as a transgender story or a lesbian one, depending on the particular biases of the reader. - Dr. Jonathan D. Berrycloth, Professor of History ______ For the past ten years of our marriage, visitors to the apartment have admired our wedding photograph mounted on the wall. There is me, Polly, buxom and blonde and a tad younger and fresher than I am today in my white dress and veil, and my husband Charles in his wedding suit. He looks at the camera with his serious, clear eyes (which are gray, although the photograph of course cannot show this.) His dark hair is slicked down in the style of 1889. The camera angle is flattering to his high cheekbones and aquiline nose. His face is clean-shaven, perhaps a bit soft and boyish around the jawline and pretty cupid’s-bow mouth, but he still cuts a dashing figure - and lady visitors say so. What our visitors have no way of knowing is that I have a female husband. My beloved Charles was born a girl, and has the same parts as I! It might seem odd to you, reader, that I think of my husband as “he” and “him” even when I must turn his special monthly rags over to the laundress along with my own, but if you ever saw us walking on the promenade of a summer evening, with him dressed in a new suit and leading me upon his arm with the gallantry of a knight, you would find yourself questioning the meaning of “true sex” as much as I did during our honeymoon days! Charles is tall and lean of breast and hip, which might have hurt his marriageability had he remained in New Hampshire and been a young lady. As a man, it helps him avoid suspicion - especially when he is standing next to me, his very little woman! He has many clever tricks for attaining a most handsome appearance. He owns a band like a small corset that he places over his breast each day to flatten his teacup-sized paps. He also scrapes his face with a razor despite not having a beard, to create the appearance of rougher skin. He pitches his voice as low and sonorous as he can, not minding that this earns him a reputation as the quiet type. When the barber, the tailor, the cobbler, and the hatter complete the picture, he looks more a man than the boorish and stupid husbands of many women I have known. No one has questioned us, except when it comes to the appearance that I am barren. There have been distasteful comments among the neighbors about my supposed barrenness. Soon we shall have to go to the orphanage and find ourselves an unfortunate babe or three to raise. I think I should make an excellent mother. […] If you have a presumption that a female husband could not be a great lover, you are sorely mistaken! Charles has always approached his marital duties with great enthusiasm, and shows impressive cunning with the hands, the tongue, and certain novel objects obtained from Paris - cunning that I imagine is frequently absent in the proper male husband, who so crudely wields the blunt instrument God made for siring children. I admit I became frustrated in those newlywed days, because Charles would not allow me to reciprocate in marital joy. He would push my hands or head away from his charming pink muff and say, “No, sweet Polly. I don’t need it. Your pleasure is my pleasure.” […] I did not mention it previously, but among the curious aspects of physiology that have prevented the circumstances of my husband’s birth being exposed is his iron bladder. He need not take the risk of partially undress himself in the water closets at his office because he need not use them at all - he can retain water from morning to evening. There are times that I listen at the door of our water closet and am quite astonished at the volume he has held despite showing no signs of being in distress, whereas I would have been positively frantic trying to do the same. Indeed, without a corset squeezing him or the frequent opportunities for release afforded to most men, my husband has attained capacities well beyond the norm. I have never known him to risk the use of public facilities, even when an evening at the social club with his coworkers taxes him with hours and beer. On these nights he rushes into our abode quite in need after over twelve hours without release, but I never find yellow stains on his underthings to indicate any loss of control. I recall one of these nights early in our marriage, when he had been at the club drinking in hopes of building camaraderie with his then-new colleagues. I had taken cold cuts for my supper and then retired to the bath. I heard him bumble through the front door, then fling open the door to our powder room, yank down his trousers, and drop onto the toilet with a loud groan. He pissed furiously and blissfully for over a minute before realizing I was in the bath! He was horribly embarrassed, but I was not about to scold him after hearing the evidence of how much he needed it. In fact, I praised him for being able to keep so much water (and beer!) sealed inside to protect himself and our marriage. If I were in his place, my tiny toy bladder would fail us at every turn, just as it failed me at least once a week back in school. There have been occasions when my husband’s iron bladder has been put to the test. One of the most dramatic was the visit to the Gershwins’ place in the country. It was two years after we were married. The Gershwins were of a higher class than ourselves, and the invitation was a rare professional opportunity for Charles, as well as a social opportunity for me. We were to take a days’ journey out of the city to their estate and stay in a guest wing for two nights. There would be a formal dinner the first night, and a host of gentry leisure activities the next day. We mustered all the wiggle room in our household budget to prepare for the fête. I had my purple striped party dress altered to look more chic, and attached a whole stuffed snowy egret to my hat (how the times have changed - now that Mrs. Harriet Lawrence Hemenway has made a cause of saving the egrets, this would be considered the height of bad taste!) Charles had his own tailcoat and waistcoat altered and invested in a new tophat, white tie [bowtie], and gloves. He pooled his money with two bachelors who were also invited to hire a carriage. On the day before our journey, I found a notice on the board outside our apartment house stating that the city would be changing the waterworks to further guard against the cholera, and the water service would have to be interrupted at six o’clock the next morning. I set out pitchers for our breakfast and resolved that we would have to wake up very early the next morning in order to take care of any bodily needs before our departure. We had gone modern and sold off the chamber pot after getting our water closet. We did not wake up before six o’clock. Charles, of course, was completely sanguine about missing his chance at a morning elimination. He drank his morning coffee and read the paper without complaint until it was time to get ready. As I mentioned, I have always been a bit plump. If I wanted a wasp waist to fit into my altered dress, I was going to need Charles to lace my corset for me and pull me in tighter than I could ever pull myself. He obliged with an aplomb that I think a male husband would lack. He yanked my laces tighter and tighter, and on the final yank I squealed and helplessly jetted all the water I had accumulated during the night onto the floor. It made a puddle under my bare feet. I moved quickly to clean up, but Charles was not upset. By then he was used to my occasional accidents. “Ah, you look so beautiful!” he exclaimed when he saw me in my full party dress with hat and gloves. I beamed. At nine the bachelors came by with the carriage and we set out on our way. We were giddy with excitement. The bachelors had brought our lunch as Charles had discussed: cucumber sandwiches and a vat of lemonade that was watery from all the ice that had melted in it. We stopped to eat in a meadow around eleven. As it was warm and sunny, Charles and I each had three glasses of lemonade. We rode through long stretches of country and many precious towns once we departed from Boston. After we had ridden through the third town and heard its church bells announce the three o’clock hour, one of the bachelors asked the driver to stop so we could stretch our legs. I silently thanked Providence, as I was quite desperate to relieve myself of the lemonade and anguished from my corset squeezing my bladder and the jolting of the carriage on the rough road. Charles helped me down from the carriage while the bachelors stole into the bushes at the right side of the way, almost certainly to address the same problem. He then chivalrously guided me beneath a tree on the left side where I could spread my legs and lift my skirts. I am loath to admit it, but in my eagerness I began to void as I took the last three steps to the location he had indicated, feeling warm liquid trickling down my thighs. I was grateful that I was wearing the old-fashioned split drawers under my petticoat, and thus soiled nothing but the very tops of my stockings. Is there a greater pleasure than having a piss in nature, with your dear husband standing guard for you, when you are wearing a tight corset and your bladder is bruised from having been knocked about in a carriage for hours? It was so exquisite that I would have liked to water the ground for several additional minutes, just for the sensuousness of it. When we all got back into the carriage, I wondered why my husband had not relieved himself - especially since I knew he had gone without voiding in the morning. Then it occurred to me: he could not go with the other men and then drop his trousers. I asked him later if it had bothered him to stand guard for me when he had to hold it in. “It was my duty as your husband,” he said, “even if the splattering you made on the dirt made me briefly tremble inside the way the earth does before a geyser erupts.” I gasped when our carriage arrived at the estate an hour later. The gardens were sprawling and gorgeous, and full of Boston royalty strolling about in fabulous dresses and suits. In the center of the tableau I could see the Gershwins greeting their guests. I was dazzled and intimidated - these were the richest people I had ever seen or spoken to. The servants guided us to the refreshments and we all had tea and cake. Charles later claimed he was so nervous he had ten cups of tea to be polite. I ducked behind the hollyhocks and made a discreet little puddle, as had been customary for generations of ladies. It was not urgent, but I knew my toy bladder too well and could not risk becoming panicked again due to the tea. I had to concentrate on making an impression. Dinner was not until six, so we were invited to tour the grounds and the stables. Charles had me on his arm and presented me to his work superiors whenever we encountered them. I noticed that he was stiff with me, even unfriendly, but such was to be expected in the presence of high society people. We were informed of a striking feature of the Gershwin’s country place: they entertained so often that they had installed special water closets for their guests, one for men and one for women, located in separate corridors on opposite sides of the main hall for modesty. If I had known this, I might have left the hollyhocks alone. I noticed that Charles vanished for a moment shortly after we were enlightened in this regard, and I was happy for him. I idly wondered about the volume he must have been holding after a night and a day; even iron bladders have limits. When the dozens of guests were herded into the dining room in preparation for dinner, I could not help but admire him all over again. It is a woman’s weakness to see her husband dressed to the nines in a tophat, tailcoat, and gloves, walking tall and holding his own among the powerful. If I had lacked restraint, I would have announced to the other middle-class wives in attendance that that striking man there was my husband and they should envy me as much as they envied the Gershwins! What I did not know was that when Charles, by then bursting with tea and heartily yearning, had visited the water closet for men, he discovered to his dismay that it had multiple fixtures installed, all of them designed for men who needed less privacy than himself. He would have to retain through the whole of the three-hour dinner and then on indefinitely. “I was in agony during that dinner,” he later confessed to me, “I was so anxious to impress and terrified of making a mistake in my table manners, and I was absolutely dying to relieve myself, but I could not show any outward signs of discomfort no matter how my bladder ached. Every time one of the servants poured a drink, the stretched and weighty vessel would throb with the unbearable longing for release, and I could not even cross my legs to ease the pressure on the downspout. I thought that at any moment I would flood my trousers like a young child and humiliate us utterly. But I could not, and I did not.” In spite of all this, I observed only the most dignified behavior from Charles, the consummate gentleman. He did not squirm or make unsavory facial expressions. He forced himself to drink the correct amount. He was quiet, but so were the rest of us who were plucked from the middle classes and intimidated by the setting. After the dessert course concluded, the men and women retired to separate drawing rooms. I nipped over to the women’s guest accommodations beforehand. The water and wine and soup I had had at dinner had run through me. I admired the women’s accommodations, which consisted of two separate water closets with doors that locked situated within a larger powder room. Another good lady came by when I was there, and the walls were such that we could not hear one another. At smaller, poorer parties I have often struggled with my toy bladder and the embarrassment of entering a water closet with men present, so I was quite taken indeed with such luxury. Charles took his entertainment and conversation with the men. He would recall: “Oh, how they made me drink! The brandy was not as hydrating as wine, but its warmth spread through my body and tempted me to relax my muscles when I could not afford to. Seated on a settee as I was, I could not even have the relief of pushing my knees together without my discomfort being noticed. I was laughing along with jokes I couldn’t even understand in that state. It was like a nightmare that would not end.” I became quite swept up in the women’s festivities, and it was around midnight when I excused myself from a game of whist to admire the water closet again. I was surprised to discover my husband moving in the opposite direction toward the drawing room. He seized my arm. “Polly, how happy am I to see you. I was just coming to speak to you,” he whispered anxiously. “Why, dear?” His brow was furrowed and his hand on my arm was trembling. “Darling, I…I need to piss,” he said. “I thought you were able to go to the water closet before dinner.” “It’s not private enough.” “Oh my goodness!” I was horrified to learn that he had not had a chance to void since the night before. “And God, I need to piss so urgently,” he whined, “You must help me. I implore you. I am at the end of my tether.” I looked into his eyes and saw how he was in physical pain and panicking from the sense that he was near to soaking his trousers in front of wealthy and influential men. I had to find a safe place for him. “If I swooned, you could take me to our room. You can use the chamber pot there,” I whispered. “I…I am sorry to ask this of you - “ “It is done. Go back among the men and hold it in for one more minute. Be assured that I am on the case!” Obviously, it was much less of a disgrace to swoon in a wasp-waist corset than to have your husband wet his pants in another’s drawing room. I returned to the society of the women, took one look about, put a hand to my forehead, and then theatrically collapsed upon a divan. “Bring the smelling salts!” I heard a matron demand of a maid. I opened my eyes and rolled them around. “No, I need my dear husband’s assistance! He has tonic for my nerves in our luggage! Please fetch me my dear Mr. M_____!” Mr. M_____ was duly fetched. He flashed pleading eyes at me. “Oh, Mr. _____, I must have my nerve tonic and be taken to bed,” I loudly proclaimed. “If you’ll excuse me, my wife has had a lot of excitement. We need to be shown to our private quarters,” Charles said. The other women, wasp-waisted and mildly drunk on sherry, looked at us in uncomplicated sympathy. I made a show of standing up woozily. The butler was brought to escort us to the guest quarters; the way was long and winding through the house. Charles’ forehead was now shining with sweat, and he winced as he walked. He later said that he was half mad knowing that relief was near after 26 hours: “from the moment you mentioned the chamber pot to me my bladder began with a deep throbbing as if being squeezed by a hand every few moments. It came in waves. It was all I could do not to double over in pain each time.” As we ascended the west wing stairs he dropped for a moment into an involuntary curtsey. He had one knee hooked behind the other and his thighs clenched together; I was grateful that the butler was ahead of us and not behind. I had never seen my iron-bladdered Charles openly show distress before. He wound an arm back to grip his calf, feigning a charley horse cramp. At the same time, I swayed back and forth, continuing to feign faintness. We were like actors upon a stage in some absurd, vulgar comedy. “Well, I suppose both of you are quite fatigued,” said the butler. “We had a long journey, and my wife has nerves.” “My nerves are atrocious!” Charles grasped my hand hard when we reached the top of the stairs. It looked like he was leading me, still playing the nervous and foolish wife, but his grip was so tight I knew that it was he who sought support and reassurance. Finally we arrived at the corridor that housed the guest rooms, and the butler unlocked one of them. “Accommodations for Mr. and Mrs. Charles M_____,” he said, gesturing for us to go inside. When the butler vanished down the hall, I locked the door from the inside. Charles pulled upward on the waistband of his trousers as hard as he could and crumpled into a half-crouch, his knees folded inward, panting as if he had run a mile through the driving snow. His tophat tumbled off onto the floor. “Help me, Polly.” I dove under the bed for the customary chamber pot, only to find that it was not there! Was there some mistake? Had it been stolen? Were the Gershwins so thoroughly modern that they forced their guests to walk into the front halls and use noisy water closets at night? Despite keeping a modern home myself back in Boston, I was outraged. Would I have to order my husband to water the carpet like a puppy just to avoid injury to his kidneys? “It’s not here!” I wailed. “It’s…it’s…oh, oh, I must have a piss. I must, I must!” he jumped from foot to foot and grabbed himself between his legs. The poor thing! “Wait here,” I said. I had had a wild idea. “Oh, wife, I can’t wait any longer! Oh, I’ll burst, ohhhhh,” he moaned pitifully, grimacing as he pushed his hands yet harder against the much-stressed dam. “Please try,” I whispered as I hurried into the hallway. I tiptoed back to a side corridor I had seen a few minutes before and discovered my prize on the buffet table: a medium-size China vase filled with cut hydrangeas. I took the flowers out and emptied the water behind the buffet, then rushed back to the room with the vase half-hidden amidst my skirts. I found poor Charles shaking with his back against the wall and his legs crossed, eyes shut tight, gulping air. There were tears upon his cheeks. I kneeled before him and nudged his legs apart. He whimpered as I unfastened his suspenders and pulled down his trousers and undergarments, exposing his quivering thighs and cunny. Above this I beheld the astonishing sight of his distended bladder protruding from his abdomen. It looked like a round, ripe melon peeking out beneath his waistcoat. “Please, wife, please…” he begged me. He cupped the swelling with his hand and bent his knees. I positioned the vase and said: “now, dear.” There was a tense moment before he could release, but then a hot golden torrent burst forth from his quim with a great hiss and splashed into the vase. I could feel the force of it through the porcelain! He rolled his eyes back and moaned deeply. Oh, how he pissed that night! I could not believe he had endured being so very full without ruining his new suit. His stream rushed and rushed, longer and thicker and fiercer than any I have ever been able to summon under the most dire of circumstances. I continued to hold the vase, happy to attend to the cessation of my husband’s agonies. At last the majestic river slowed to a trickle, and Charles pressed on his lower stomach, now flat once again, to make sure he was empty. His cheeks were flushed. His shoulders sagged with relief. “Oh my darling Polly, that’s much better. I was suffering so that I thought I would burst and die from it,” he sighed. I noticed that there were dewdrops suspended in the curled hair along the outside of his little muff. In a moment of daring, I took my handkerchief and dabbed the drops away. He laughed at the ticklish sensation. I looked into the vase and gasped, as it was half full! He must have voided two quarts [~1.9L]! Thankfully, there was still room for me to relieve myself as well - my own needs had become unexpectedly urgent upon watching my husband’s performance. He was quite amused when I lifted my skirt and started adding my waters to his. “If we must defile this vase, we shall do it together,” I said, as the tinkling sound filled the room. “Ah, but whatever are we going to do with the vase?” he asked. “Allow me.” I crept out of the door to the guest room, checking to see if the coast was clear. Then I scampered on swift but silent feet to return the vase to where it had been, placing the cut flowers in with our waters! I believed that when the smell or wilting of the flowers inevitably led to the discovery of the mischief in the morning, it would surely be blamed on some drunken boor and not anyone so prim and quiet as my husband. It was the naughtiest thing I ever did as a grown woman! After I retreated to the room, my husband wanted to make love. We had to be very quiet indeed. It was quite memorable, because it was one of the only times in ten years that he has allowed me to pet him between the legs for his pleasure. It was as if the experience of holding his water for such an excruciatingly long time had softened his defenses. I have fond memories of that night and the soft, velvety texture of his quim, which I get to touch so rarely, and which is smaller, pinker, and daintier than my own in a peculiar contrast to the general masculine cut of his jib. In the morning, the vase was empty and cleaned. A servant must have found it and disposed of its contents without comment. An announcement was made at breakfast: our hosts apologized for the absence of chamber pots in our rooms the previous night, and any inconvenience this may have caused. It was the fault of the servants. The pots were being replaced at that very moment. Charles and I were silent conspirators for the rest of the meal, exchanging a lot of smirking looks as Mr. Gershwin droned on and on about croquet and the discovery of gold in the Klondike. I noticed that Charles stole away to our room several times that day. He whispered to me that his bladder was “exhausted.” I felt so sorry for him, and yet so impressed by what he had accomplished under duress. Not many people can say they have gone from nine one night to midnight the next without passing urine through sheer determination. Thankfully, he sustained no lasting damage to his system as a result of this test, and was able to keep his cunny sealed tight for the duration of our return journey two days later.
  22. This is one of my favourite childhood wetting experiences that I've been remembering a lot recently. It involves 2 friends of mine which for respect for their privacy I will refer to them in this story as Luke and John. I was in the 11th grade and 17 at the time. Luke was in the 11th grade with me but was 18 and John was 19 and in 12th grade. On this particular school day we had made plans to get together after school to check out this abandoned house in a forest near my house in Markham. I had already been into wetting and cross dressing since I was young and I would do planned holds at school but never wet usually until I was in private either at home or sometimes on my way home. On the morning of this day I decided to wear red girls panties, cotton with the athletic waist along with some pink fishnets underneath some girls skin tight blue jeans and a grey short sleeved girls top. Also some DC skater shoes with no socks. You couldn't really see the fishnets so the look could technically pass as a boy, like an emo or fem kind of boy, but anyone could pretty much tell I was wearing girls clothing. This whole thing was extremely exciting for me and I hadn't touched myself or orgasmed in several days. In the morning I had several glasses of water and relieved myself at the beginning of the day but decided I would hold the rest of the day to add to my cross dressing excitement. I spent most of the day distracted in class, thinking more about how naughty it felt to be at school in girls clothes and wasn't paying much attention to the lessons. John, Luke and I all had the same lunch so we met up and went to the bagel shop and each had some coffee before heading back to class. I had a crush on both Luke and John. Today John was wearing blue jeans and skater shoes and white socks (just above the ankle) with a kind of tight grey t-shirt and Luke was wearing a black tank top with blue jeans and skater shoes with no socks (this was a huge turn-on for me because I also have a foot fetish; this was my favourite look that Luke wore because I also have an armpit fetish and the tank top let me scope his sexy armpit hair whenever he lifted his arms). Both these guys are clean shaven with very little body hair except around the crotch, underarms and a bit of treasure trail. My favourite. I was completely shaved head to toe except for my long girly hair and sculpted eyebrows. So when I saw Luke wearing my favourite outfit with no socks and me being cross dressed and building up for several days, I almost exploded right there in my cute little red panties. John was wearing grey cotton boxer briefs and Luke was going commando (it will become clear later how I came to discover this). I felt a spurt shoot out of my penis and a wet patch form in my crotch but managed compose myself and keep my excitement contained throughout lunch. However I did quite enjoy the thrill of reaching my hand down to feel the wet spot on my panties whenever no one was looking. After lunch we went back to class and I was starting to feel pretty desperate between the coffee and keeping well hydrated with water throughout the day. By the end of the day I was practically bursting. Among the most desperate I've ever felt but the class was held back a few minutes to finish the lesson and by the time I got out into the hall there was a lineup at all 3 of the washrooms between my class and the atrium where I was meeting Luke and John. When I got to the atrium Luke was already there waiting and he could sense my discomfort. "I have to piss worse than I've ever had to pee in my life," I told him, "but all 3 washrooms on the west side of school have lines and so does the one in the cafeteria." Luke admitted he had to pee also but not quite as bad. About a minute or two later John came down the stairs into the atrium looking not too dissimilar from me and exclaimed he was on the verge of pissing his pants. Now it was a pretty humid day and the armpits of his tight grey shirt had become soaked with sweat. Upon seeing this and hearing him describe the imagery of him potentially pissing his pants, my arousal shot through the roof once again and I felt my whole body tense up. I was feeling so naughty and excited from the girls clothes and being on the verge of wetting myself that I was almost certain I was going to have an orgasm right there in front of my friends and whole school. I started breathing heavily, I felt one spurt of hot semen jet out of my penis... then another... then... *phew* I caught my breath. I managed to stop myself from completely going over the edge. I was still a little embarrassed about how naughty and public everything felt and I turned pretty red. Luke asked if I was okay, John was too distracted by his need to pee. I shyly said I was fine and John said the east half of the schools bathrooms all had lines too so I said we had better just hurry to my place and we could all pee there before going to check out the abandoned house in the forest. We started walking quite briskly back to my house but it was a good 30 minutes away. The wet patch in my crotch felt pretty big and I wondered if it had leaked through my jeans but didn't dare look out of embarrassment. The wet patch teased at my dick and made it more difficult to hold my urine in my now swollen and near-bursting bladder but the arousal and the naughtiness of what had just occurred helped keep my mind off it. I remember every time I thought I was about to lose control I would send my mind back to how sexy I thought it was that Luke was wearing sneakers with no socks and think about his sweaty bare feet in those shoes. Finally we made it around the corner to my street and if I was at an 11/10 before, seeing my house made it shoot up to a 15. The 3 of us pretty much gave up walking at this point in favour of a full on sprint to my door, all the while declaring to each other which washroom we were going to run to. We run up my porch and slam into the door. I push the handle down... locked. Of course! I feel a gush a pee flood into my crotch and I squeeze my legs together and start running on the spot to stem the flow while I whip my backpack off and begin trying to dig through it for my keys. I managed stop peeing for a moment but once standing still again, trying to focus on digging through my backpack was just too much. Another deluge of pee filled my crotch, completely soaking my red cotton panties and spreading a dark patch wider and wider across my skinny jeans. The warmth spread into my butt cheeks and down my legs. The relief was indescribable. I must have had the biggest ahegao face my friends had ever seen. I shoved my hands into my crotch to attempt to stop the flow but it just burst through and I dropped to my knees and just completely let go in front of them. This might have been the greatest feeling in my life, certainly up until that point. The warm piss gushing out of me like a torrent, spreading through the panties and soaking the jeans completely down my legs and knees. The tingling of my toes in my fishnets and sweaty bare feet in the soft sneakers. My hands, still gripping my crotch began to instinctively squeeze as my hips thrust into them. Part of me was embarrassed about doing this in front of my friends but I was so overcome with pleasure that the animal instinct just took over and there was no stopping me. As if this wasn't enough, the sight of my relief became too much for John to handle, also seeing that I was no longer capable of getting my keys. A dark blue patch began to grow and spread around John's crotch. He squeezed his legs together and grabbed his junk in desperation but the wetness just kept spreading through his jeans, soaking his grey boxer briefs, down his legs, into his shoes and socks. All of this right in front of me and at eye level as I was now on my knees. I was in absolute heaven. John let out a huge sigh of relief but kept his hands in his crotch and legs together for the duration of his wetting even as a massive puddle formed at his feet and began to merge with my own. I think he still felt like he needed to give the impression that he was still trying to hold back at least until Luke looked at us both and said, "Well I might as well skip the toilet as well. You two look like you're having way too much fun anyway for me not to try this." (Luke had always been the experimental type and although he was straight, he and I often experimented together with different things). Luke being the only one who didn't burst uncontrollably just casually stood there and enjoyed the feeling as a smile spread across his face and his blue jeans grew dark and wet. He grabbed his crotch and moved his dick around to get a nice even spread and just enjoy the overall experience. Luke's casual attitude made John finally give up on maintaining the illusion of still trying to hold back and he relaxed and let the pleasure wash over him as a smile grew across his face. So there we all were. Me, cross dressed and with my two crushes in front of me. All wetting ourselves in front of each other and feeling a mix of pleasure, excitement, embarrassment and adventure. As my two comrades continued to empty their bladders I took satisfaction in the sight of seeing Luke's shoes fill with piss as it ran down his legs and covered his feet. I watched as John's socks started to turn a slight yellow. A few good thrusts was all I needed at this point to release the load I'd been holding back all day and had let build up over the last few days. Still to this day it might have been the best orgasm of my life. For a moment it also felt like I blacked out. It felt so good and naughty to orgasm like that in public on my porch in front of my friends (even though Luke and I had orgasmed in front of each other before) but I was too caught up in the pleasure and excitement of everything to feel embarrassed anymore. I don't know how much time passed as the other two just stood there taking in the feelings of everything with me on my knees. It felt like hours but surely it was only minutes. They didn't ask me if I got off but I'm pretty sure they knew or at least suspected. They were cool with it. After all that we still wanted to go through with the plan to check out the abandoned house and we didn't really need anything inside my house anymore so I unlocked the door and we dropped off our bags and headed out to the forest in our wet clothes. We passed by a couple people on the street who seemed to be looking at us and whispering (all 3 of us had very obviously pissed our jeans) but being together we didn't really care. The forest was only 5 minutes away and we began hiking through the brush in our wet jeans and underwear (those of us that were wearing underwear 😉 ). Now the abandoned house was a bit of a way into the forest, about a 30 minute hike or so and it started to rain, it looked like a pretty heavy storm was coming in. Half way to the cabin, John asked up to stop so he could take a piss again and Luke and I just looked at him and I said, "We're already getting soaked from the rain, just piss your pants again." "Didn't it feel pretty good anyway?" Luke added as he shot me a smirk. "Here, I'll go too." The 3 of us all pissed again in our jeans as the rain was pouring down on us. By the time we reached the abandoned house the downpour was torrential and we needed to take shelter inside the abandoned house. It wasn't falling apart or anything so we guessed it had only been abandoned a few years and there were obvious signs that other kids came here to party sometimes. We hung out and chatted about regular stuff for a little while waiting for the rain to pass but after about an hour the storm showed no signs of letting up and we all needed to pee again. This time we all stood together in a circle in the corner of the cabin and let go while checking out each other's streams. Luke and John definitely seemed into this at least to some degree and at least for today. After we all finished and sighed with relief, things took a bit of an exciting turn. Luke asked me if I was wearing girls panties underneath the girls jeans I was wearing. I shyly admitted to him that I was and he asked if he could see. I said, "Only if you two show me your underwear as well." Luke said, "I'm not wearing any," as he unbuttoned his jeans and let them drop to the floor, proudly exposing his piss soaked dick to me and John. "Fair enough," John followed and he too dropped his jeans but this time revealing some piss soaked grey boxers with a nice outline of dry cotton near the waistband to mark where they were wet. I unbuttoned my jeans, exposing my wet red cotton panties to the two of them and to my even greater surprise Luke asked if he could try them on. I agreed only if we could trade clothes and I could try on his piss soaked jeans and shoes. We traded shirts as well. I was completely in heaven getting to wear the jeans Luke was commando in all day and the sneakers his bare feet had been sweating in all day. Luke looked really sexy is my girls outfit too. John asked if he could try on my girls clothes as well and he and I proceeded to trade clothes and the 3 of us kind of took turns swapping and trying on each other's outfits. Through all of this I noticed Luke and John getting hard and we were all trapped in this cabin in the rain storm, it was all kind of romantic actually, but one thing lead to another and I offered to suck them off which they accepted and things kind of spiralled from there. I won't go into full detail on this because it wasn't really omo related anymore and I'm not sure if that's entirely appropriate for this forum but a couple hours later after the rain had finally stopped and our clothes were mostly dry, we began hiking back through the woods to my house. We had all swapped clothes so John was wearing my red panties, fishnets, skinny jeans, grey top and sneakers. I was wearing Luke's jeans, tank top and sneakers, no underwear. Luke was wearing John's clothes, socks, sneakers, underwear and all. On the way back we each had one final wetting in each other's clothes before heading back to my house. We swapped back into our own respective clothing and Luke and John started their walks home as the sun was setting. We all became even closer friends after that (even though we were already pretty close). Luke and John are still straight although there were a few more times we experimented together. A couple of those involved wetting and although Luke and John seemed to enjoy it they never really took it on as a fetish the way I did. This is still to this day one of the greatest omorashi and sexual experiences in general I've had in my life. It took a lot of work to write it all out in the level of detail I wanted to share as I wanted to take care to relate everything about the experience that stuck out to me and meant a lot. This whole experience shaped a lot of my fetishes and sexual life in general. I feel so lucky and blessed to have had an experience like this and it has convinced me that heaven truly is a place on earth. I hope you guys had as much fun reading this as I did recounting it and writing about it. It took a couple hours and I got a few good wettings in while I was writing. Wearing the same outfit I was wearing back then for nostalgia's sake. Here are some photos for you guys to enjoy as well (not the fishnets unfortunately, they didn't make it through the years).
  23. So I have recently begun speaking with a lady on pocketstars who is very sexy and understanding indeed. I mentioned to her that it was my fantasy to be told to dress in a leotard and tights like a ballerina and forced to hold until I either wet myself or mistress instructed me to pee. Well I was encouraged to order said items and mistress informed me that she would indulge my whim. I ordered away and the items arrived. I wasn’t allowed to cum until the day and not after the event. This was some 5 days of waiting. I can’t tell you the feeling I had as I slipped on the tights and Leo for the first time. I informed mistress the costume has arrived and was duly instructed to bring filling up and I complied obediently. After what was about 2 hours I’d finished maybe 4 litres of water and was about to explode let alone piss myself. Still no word from mistress as to what I was supposed to do - was she waiting for me to have an accident and make a grovelling confession to her? Then out of the blue came an apology, she had been busy with other things and had forgotten all about me- I was then instructed that I could go. I asked how much? A little? All of it? “Just soak yourself” came the reply. “And don’t think about cumming until you send me the picture of you in your wet tights.” My word. These instructions shot through me like electricity and I obediently began soaking my tights and leotard with my hot, pent up pee. It seemed like an age before I had finished and could compose myself to send the image across that would release me from my chastity. mistress was indeed pleased and informed me that I could finish myself and to send her the evidence of that as well. I have to say it was one of the best mornings of my life and I’d love to be encouraged to crossdress and wet again. I thoroughly recommend the experience of having someone else instruct you when and how much to wet. Hope to speak with like minded people interested in this sort of thing and people interested in making others wet. here’s the evidence 😳 all the best, Dan
  24. Kitty made me dress in tights and leotard and hold my morning pee until I could take it no longer and begged her to let me go. Of course the catch was it had to be through my tights and leotard onto towels in my bedroom 😳
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