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https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5c8e754cefd1e The sound you might hear in the middle is my pet cat opening the door. (She’s super smart :p)

View File JAV - MIAE-001 - School Girl Accident Leads to Bullying and Sex Title says it all, a couple of vignettes of a school girl desperate to pee, having an accident, and then having sex to prevent witnesses from telling. Cute panties, cute accident scenarios, typical sex. Enjoy, Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 03/17/2019 Category Public wetting Clothing  

View File JAV - Upskirt Fingering Wetting in Public Sexy voyeuristic upskirts where the subject is fingered until she wets her panties. Enjoy, Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 03/17/2019 Category Public wetting Clothing  

Would anybody ever consider drawing hentai of Masyanya for me? If so, post it here or P.M. it to me. Anyhow, even though she’s a bit creepy to look at... I enjoy Masyanya a awful lot, and I’d really like to see more Lewd art of her.

https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5c134024c2b00

https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5a6a04d04c158

https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph5c68d6db86ff5 This video has a very good shot of a peeing trans pussy, as I’d like to be near him and maybe hear a piss hiss. :3

https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph59e0312688e35

Well, it’s been a while since I’ve shared an experience, and also, I wanted to share something pretty special, as I noticed I was getting very close to my 8000th post! This is quite a milestone and well, I hope you will all celebrate with me, by sharing more sexy wetting content and if you are interested, buying a pair of my dirty panties! I’m going to do a couple of posts and a video dump to celebrate, so here is my experience. I’ve had a couple of very hard months at work; a bunch of volunteers left and I’ve been scrambling to fill their roles. As such, I’ve been pretty busy and haven’t had much time for fun kinky stuff. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve still had some sexy times with the hubby, and certainly watched some porn and masturbated with toys and all that, but I haven’t had a chance to do elaborate or public. Well, the other day I finally had some time off, and decided to go shopping at MetroTown. This is a big mall complex not too far from our place. I also decided to have a little bit of desperation fun while I was doing it, or rather, I kind of decided to have some desperation fun mid-way through running errands. Here’s what happened. It’s been getting chillier here, so I’ve started wearing trousers a lot more. But this day, it was bright and sunny out, which offered the perfect, and perhaps the last, opportunity to wear a nice skirt (without leggings). After lounging around the flat for a while and doing some house work, I decided to head out and deal with the growing list of small errands. I pulled on a cute dark grey pleated skirt,, the white cotton panties I’d been wearing under my PJs all morning. I buttoned up a lavender blouse, threw on a cardigan, and picked up a larger backpack to accommodate my shopping. I pulled my wallet out of my purse, grabbed a couple of items that were piled up by the door, threw in a couple of cloth shopping bags, and wandered off to the Skytrain to hop down to MetroTown. It was about 11 am by the time I arrived at the mall (it’s huge by the way), and I headed off to the washroom, as I’d forgotten to go before leaving my flat. I used the one nearest the Skytrain, which I always find the yuckiest, but it was close, and I kind of had to go. Hovering over the toilet, I noticed that my panties were already a little dirty/sticky from the trip over and the mornings activities. I love how white cotton shows every little stain. I then headed up to the second level to return a sports bra to the sporting goods store. My sister had bought it for me and well, she wasn’t aware that my breasts have grown since going on birth control (a long time ago), and she still apparently bought me a bra using my size from like more than a decade ago. I wasn’t impressed with their sports bras, and so I wandered around the mall, visiting a couple of shops until I found something really comfy and supportive from Lululemon. This took more than an hour, and so rather than getting into some serious shopping, I headed off to Blenz coffee on the main floor. I grabbed a big matcha late, and sat down, drinking the whole thing and watching people bustling by. Sometimes it’s fun to just sit and watch the world go by, and it certainly is when doing so is a luxury. During this time, my mind wandered, and I had a few naughty thoughts. Completely filled up on green tea, I headed out once more. I probably should have planned out my trip a little better, as I ended up wandering all over the mall, grabbing items off my list and doing a little browsing. Half an hour after leaving the coffee shop, I could feel myself filling up. I could have easily ducked into one of the many washrooms around the mall, but I was starting to feel a little naughty. I was at about a 6 on the desperation scale, the point where I would normally always head straight to the washroom, but decided to have a little bit of public desperation fun. It sort of flowed on from the things I had been contemplating at the coffee shop. I didn’t have a concrete plan, but I did feel like getting up to some naughty mischief. Maybe just some desperation perhaps? I continued browsing through some shops and felt myself getting increasingly desperate. I headed into Chapters and looked through some of the new arrivals and non-fictions sections. By the time I was checking out the always poorly populated philosophy section, I was at a 7. I played up my desperation, allowing myself to display my need to pee in subtle, mildly exhibitionistic ways. A little foot jiggle here, tightly crossed legs when I paused to look at a book, that sort of thing. To the keen observer, I would have likely appeared to be an antsy book browser. The problem is of course that browsing for books is certainly the kind of thing that you can just stop doing and use the washroom, so I decided to get back onto my pre-schedule list of errands. I headed over to T&T, the huge Asian food supermarket, and began filling a basket with items off my list. Having an almost-full basket of things is a great reason not to use the toilet. I worked my way methodically through the store, my desperation mounting to a solid 8 by the time I reached the tea section. I was playing up my desperation beyond an 8 though, for effect, and because of the little thrill of excitement that I got from knowing that other people around me in the shop could see that I had to pee. My actions were less subtle at this point, given my mounting real desperation. I was not at the point of holding myself, but I would twist my legs together whenever I stopped to look for something, and this was often followed by dancing on the spot. I spotted the sidelong glances of other patrons around me when I jiggle about. My basket was mostly full and I only had a couple more items to purchase by the time I made it to the noodle isle. I was still at a solid 8 on the desperation scale, but acting like I was a 9.5. I put down my basket, crossed my legs, and did slip my hand firmly between my thighs as I pondered the noodle selection. There are so many options and the packaging is always confusing (and it’s typically not in English, so you really have to look at the ingredients if you are looking for something specific. I found a couple that I was looking for, and put them, one-handed, into my basket, all the while holding myself firmly. A younger Asian man came around the corner as I was depositing the final pack of noodles into my basket, curtsey-style, so as not to put too much pressure on my bladder, or flash my panties at anyone. As soon as I saw him I whipped my hand out from between my legs, though I could tell from his look that he had noticed. I quickly retrieved my basket and hurried off, flushing a little and too embarrassed to look back to see if he was watching me. I still had a couple of items on the list, but my feigned extreme desperation was kind of getting to my head (and bladder), and I was at that ‘find a bathroom now!’ stage of desperation. I went to get the final item on my list – dumpling wrappers in case you care – before heading to the checkout. There was of course a line, though not a very long one and I wiggled and crossed my legs with increasingly real desperation (about an 8.5) as I waited for the two people ahead of me to check out. After the first person wrapped up, which seemed like it took far too long, I was able to unload my basket on to the little conveyor belt. This done, I could hold the empty basket in one hand in front of my crotch, to cover up the fact that my second hand had snaked its way between my thighs and was once again pressing the thick fabric of my skirt into my vagina. The additional pressure didn’t seem to help too much, and I was still very rapidly wiggling my thighs and legs. While I tried not to make eye contact with the people around me, I was acutely aware of their looks. My heart rate increased and I had those sexy and fluttery little butterfly feelings that I love and hate so much about embarrassing public situations. The person in front of me was a middle-aged woman, and she had a full shopping cart. I had noticed her giving me a sympathetic look when she began unloading her cart a little while ago. I think out of solidarity with me and my obvious desperate plight, she hurried along her interaction. The checkout person was a teen or university student, and she also gave me a sympathetic look. This made me blush even more and look away, concentrating on carefully arranging my items on the conveyor belt to maximize how fast I could load my backpack. I did not notice the two other people who had lined up behind me, only that they were there, boxing me in, preventing my dashing off and simply abandoning my groceries. As the woman ahead of me fumbled in her purse for her credit card, I switched from holding myself (which was really not as discreet as I had thought), to using both hands to prep my backpack and doing a little pee pee dance. I was so caught up with my own predicament – no longer feigned – that I didn’t notice the man behind me asking for a little grocery divider, and instead, the checkout girl had to give him one. I noticed too late and in classic Canadian style apologized, mumbling something like, ‘ah sorry.’ He said ‘no worries’ and went about pretending to ignore the fact that I was wiggling about in front of him in the checkout line, desperate to pee. The woman ahead of me finally completed her transaction and headed on her way, with one last sympathetic look over her shoulder at me. I reached the checkout girl. I had already removed my wallet from my backpack to speed up the interaction. “Hello, how is your day going?” I asked in a meek kind of voice. “Not bad, thanks.” She replied curtly, and began rapidly scanning my items. I prayed that nothing would need a price check or any such complication. “How about yours?” She responded. “Oh not so bad…” I replied vaguely. “Did you find everything you needed?” She inquired. I nodded, not wanting to have to concentrate on a conversation, and my mounting desperation. I let her get on with her job, not wanting to slow her down for any reason. “These ones are one sale if you wanted a second one half off.” She observed at one point, holding up a package of noodles. I must have not noticed when I was picking them out, or forgotten to pick up a second pack, which was understandable, given my predicament. “Oh, that’s ok.” I added quickly. I began packing the scanned items into my backpack as quickly as possible. She scanned the final items, and at this point, I transitioned from almost comical pee pee dance, to crossed legs. It had been over an hour since I downed the very large green tea and I had reached a real 9 on the desperation scale. I hadn’t quite planned this out. Usually when I plan to get up to some desperation, pee, or diaper fun in public, I plan things out, but today was more spontaneous, and I was reaching a point of real and serious desperation. The kind of point where you are in real risk of a very public accident. I don’t have the kind of bladder which allows me to let out little leaks to relieve the pressure. I have been practicing, and can sometimes let out a little if I really concentrate and also if I’m absolutely desperate. These little leaks do sometimes happen without my control, but are very often followed by a rather longer release of pee. I really didn’t want that to here in the narrow checkout isle of the T&T Supermarket in front of a group of strangers. The thought of it made my heart race, and my pulse quicken, but also terrified me. Maybe I did want to have a little accident? I mused a little, about the possibility of relaxing, just a little bit, to let out a drop into my panties. I immediately decided against it, as I didn’t want to make a mess and involve the people around me. I clenched down with my PC muscles, removed the hand which was once again pressed between my legs (I had not even been conscious of having done so), and packed the last few items into my bag. “Debit please.” I said, anticipating her question, and she punched a bunch of buttons on the till. She indicated that I could use the machine and I punched in my pin. “Would you like a receipt?” She inquired. “Yes please.” I muttered, replacing my debit card into my wallet and stuffing it into my mostly full backpack. The machine seemed to take forever to print. She tore receipt from the machine and handed it to me. “Just outside the doors in the parking lot, turn left, and then take another left.” She said, cryptically. I hastily put my backpack on, while still doing a pee pee dance, with as much discretion as I could muster. “Huh?” I inquired, not sure what she was talking about, though it should have been obvious. “If you need a washroom, they are just around the corner from the exit.” She clarified. I immediately felt my face flush with warmth. “Oh.” I replied, dumbly. “Thank you.” I had clearly been quite obvious. The fact that a stranger had pointed me in the direction of the washrooms without my having to ask was acutely embarrassing, though I had of course been asking for this kind of treatment. Still lacking decorum, I decided to make a dash for the toilets. Now I can usually make it to the washroom with a bladder at a ‘comfortable’ 9, I have in the past. The trick is to be close to the washroom and to not run or jostle too much. I knew where the washroom was and I could probably make it at a good walking speed. However, still play acting just a little, I rushed out of the exit. The parking lot outside of the exit was busy, with shoppers milling about, cars driving past, and people randomly standing about checking their phones. I zigged and zagged between them at a brisk pace, but still not a jog. I found the main hallway and took a left and there was the sign and hallway leading to the washrooms. It was then when my slightly foggy, desperation confused, brain made a naughty decision; Rather than continuing my brisk pace and hurrying into the washroom, I decided to make a sprint for it. I gripped the straps of my backpack with both hands and took off at a good pace down the hallway towards the washrooms. This was of course a bad idea, if I was hoping to keep my panties dry. While I’m not very good at intentionally letting out little leaks when I’m desperate (and instead tend to just lose control as I mentioned), I am particularly known for leaking when working out. The increased pressure from my running footfalls jostled my bladder, and I could feel a little leak with each running step as I approached the ladies room. Coming around the corner of the entrance of the washroom, I almost collided with a middle-aged woman, and I was forced to slow my pace. Bearing down hard on my PC muscles, to stop the leaking. I hoped that I could find a free stall. Fortunately, Metrotown has well-provisioned washrooms, so that when I entered the relatively crowded washroom, I was quickly able to locate an empty stall. Down at the end, it was sitting with its door ajar. Now, safely inside the washroom, I slowed my pace, weary of slipping on the wet floor, or bumping into one of the many women dotted along the long line of sinks to my side. No longer running, I quickly let go of my backpack strap with my right hand, and, reaching up under my skirt so as not to press is fabric into my damp panties, I held myself tightly. I was largely oblivious to the fact that I was holding myself in a very undignified fashion, and in such a way as to reveal a flash of white cotton to the other women in the washroom. My face burned with warmth as a hastily walked past various women at the sink. Out of the corner of my eye I could see one of them turn to stare at me as she caught my reflection in the mirror. Finally, heart pounding, I reached the empty stall, hand still pressed firmly between my very public, and very wet panties. I pushed the door close, and fumbled with the lock with my left hand. I felt a jet of warmth strike the hand between my legs. I gave up on the lock, removed my wet hand, and used it to yank down my panties, all the while stepping back and spreading my legs. My wet panties were stretched between my thighs as I sort of squatted over the toilet (my backpack and discomfort with sitting on unwiped public toilets preventing me from sitting down). My panties were barely at my thighs when my body released, splashing furiously into the toilet with a loud hiss. As the pressure subsided, I angled my legs more, to prevent splashing and stop the little dribble I felt running down one leg. I peed for a good minute, and possibly a little longer. This is the maximum duration of a Rachel bladder, and I was awash with a wave of relief once I reached the dribbling conclusion of my pee. It took several wadded up balls of toilet paper to dry my sex, legs, and the toilet seat. My panties were another matter. They were rather wet, and I used even more toilet paper to dab them. All the while I had been peeing, I was paranoid that someone would burst in on me, and see my drenched panties spread between my thighs. I was lucky, I suppose, having chosen a stall further from the entrance. As soon as I had stopped peeing, I latched to door, to give me added privacy as I dried myself off. I was careful to inspect my skirt, which had avoided getting wet, which was great, given the embarrassing and revealing steps I’d taken to keep it that way. There may have been a couple of little damp spots on the inside, but the fabric of this particular skirt is pretty thick. Now, as most of you will know by now, I have long carried a spare pair of panties in my purse. This is a habit that comes from long experience with my bladder, its foibles, and also my sometimes intentional wet fun times. While I dried myself off, I came to the realization that I did not have my purse, but rather, I had removed my wallet from my purse before leaving home, and had instead brought a backpack. While the backpack is a large one, capable of holding all of my groceries, it is not as well provisioned as my purse – it lacks a spare pair of panties, pads, makeup and the usually stuff that accumulates in ones purse. I thought about my options. I had largely completed my important errands (I only had to pick up some stamps), and so I could head directly home in my very wet panties, enjoying the cold wetness of them against my skin, and possibly leaving a little wet patch on the seat of the Skytrain. But it was a long walk home, and I still wasn’t quite done with other optional errands (for example, popping over to the library and doing some more window shopping). I wasn’t quite ready to go home, but I was not up for wandering about the mall and area in rather wet panties. I could of course remove my panties and go ‘comando’ but this was not a very good idea. While I’m known for my mild exhibitionism, and get very excited at the prospect of playing up my desperation for a couple of strangers, or flashing my panties at a washroom full of other women (or some of my other adventures), wearing a relatively short skirt without panties is a little too much for me. I would have to navigate the very steep, upskirt inducing, stairs at the Skytrain station, as well as escalators and open areas in Metrotown, where people beneath me could spy my shaved girl parts. I decided that I had been a bad girl, and as such, I would have to wear my wet panties a little longer, but that I would need some other stopgap to get me home. I wadded up a little toilet paper, making a small pad, and pressed this between my legs before hiking up my wet panties once more. The paper would keep my skin dry for a little while, and also reminded me of previous accidents when I was younger, and some of the steps I’d taken after these. My heart was still pounding when I flushed and headed out of the stall to wash my hands. I didn’t recognize any of the women at the sinks from when I had dashed in, not that I would have likely been able to. I dried my hands and headed out, acutely aware of the dampness of the edges of the gusset of my panties, touching my inner thighs, despite the wad of toilet paper. I had a couple of options, and mulled them over in my head. I could go and buy some new panties, I always love new panties, and the packs of cotton girl’s panties that I wear are not that expensive. I was certainly not going to buy something fancy from La Senza or La Vie En Rose, girls who wet their panties are clearly not ready for big girl lingerie. Given my cheap taste for cute cotton little girls panties, I headed all the way across the mall to Walmart. Rather than going straight for the girls isle, I opted to wander about a little. As I have often done, I found myself wandering down the diaper isle, ogling the packages. I’m sure any diaper lovers out there have done the same. Like a moth to the flame, I hovered about the isle, looking for new arrivals, and seeing what I could find. I stared at the packaging of the Goodnites (no change there) still my favorite go to diaper (so cute, so nostalgic), and then worked my way along to the Pull-ups. Now I’ve not worn Pull-ups for many years, and I’m almost certain they don’t fit all that well. I do, after all, wear the L/XL sized Goodnites, and despite these fitting well, I have my doubts about going down to the 4t-5t sized Pull-ups. But right then and there, I decided to try. So I mulled over my options, looking at the feel and learn, night time, and other options available. I finally, after some serious mulling over, decided to pick an adorable pair of regular girls Pull-ups with learning designs, of the largest size I could find. I was excited at the prospect, and even if they didn’t fit all that well, I could still enjoy the stickers that they promised to have inside. I carried these to the checkout as my single item, and paid. I’m at the age where I could have legitimately been buying Pull-ups for my kid, and as I’ve bought Goodnites on many occasions in person, I didn’t get that excited rush that sometimes accompanies buying incontinence products in public. No one knew that I was buying these pull-ups because I’d had an accident, but I knew, and this gave me a naughty little secret which did get my heart pounding just a little bit harder. I got a bag for my item, and headed out, making my way straight for the washrooms. They were easy to find and I didn’t need any help. This time, I headed to the family washroom, and found it open. Feeling a little sneaky, being bereft of a family, I smuggled my way inside, and locked the door. The first thing that I did was open the pack of Pull-ups and give it a big smell, appreciating the new diaper scent. I had pulled out one with a lady doctor character on them. I appreciated them from various angles, taking in the ‘learning designs’ and colours. I also felt them and they felt considerably thinner than Goodnites, which I suppose makes sense, given that these are supposed to be training pants, and not designed to take a full night time bladder’s worth. I did worry that they would leak if I released a very full bladder into them, my Goodnites do this when I wear them (usually when I’m laying down). I pulled down my panties and removed the toilet paper, which was damp. I then pulled down the changing table and finally remembered to take a couple of photos for your perverts. I set up a little still life with wet panties and shameful pull-ups. I then patted myself dry, again, with some toilet paper, as I had become a little damp in the intervening shopping time – both from my panties, and from my natural juices due to all the excitement. I pre-stretched the Pull-ups, a technique I’ve used on smaller pull-ups before, and then slowly shimmied them up my hips. They fit surprisingly well, but were still tight. I gave my legs a couple of practice steps to test out whether or not the sides would hold, and they seemed to do their job. I supposed that they would hold, as long as I didn’t like do any squat thrusts, or similar moves. I did worry for a second that if they didn’t fit, they could tear and fall down while I was wearing them! Or one side would tear, and I would face the awkward situation of a diaper hanging half-attached, under a rather short skirt. I then pondered my options once more. I could pull my panties over the Pull-up, keeping it in place, like a pad. This would work, but also I’d still get the wet clammy feeling of wet panty gusset against my legs. The whole point of the Pull-ups was to wear something dry (and also protective, after all, I’d had am embarrassing bathroom accident in my big girl panties, I told myself, excited by the inner dialogue). The other option was just to risk it, and avoid hip-spreading activities, and hope for the best. I opted for this choice, as putting wet panties over top of a dry clean diaper is just not something a good girl does. I balled up my wet panties so that the dry bits covered the wet and stuffed them into my backpack. There was insufficient room in my backpack for the opened diapers, so I pulled out a cloth bag and put the pack in this. I then headed out into the world. I then went for a rather longer walk all the way to the public library, which is on the other side of the mall and through a lovely little park. There I dropped off a book and picked up a couple of holds I had, stuffing these into the bag with the pull-ups. I spent some time browsing the shelves. It had been a good while since I had peed and while I did this, I felt the urge to pee growing. I was also careful to hold the back of my skirt when walking up the stairs at the library, nervous about flashing my Pull-ups at a library denizen. I was at a very comfortable 4 or 5 when I finally left the library (with a couple additional books and a documentary) and headed back to the mall. I had some time to kill and was keen crack into one of my new books, so I located a cool bench in the park, arranged myself so that I was not sitting on my skirt, and pulled out one of the holds that I have been dying to read. I ploughed through a couple of chapters before I registered that I needed to pee again, properly this time. A good solid 6. Not wanting to get up and abandon my book, and also, still suffused with naughty thoughts, I closed my eyes, and released. I could feel warmth suffuse my girl parts and the diaper filling up. The peed flowed differently inside the Pull-up than it does in a Goodnite. I find Goodnites a little more thirsty, so the pee doesn’t run as much, but rather gets absorbed. In a Pull-up, the pee sort of ran all over getting my bum wet quickly. I bore down after a good 30 seconds (as soon as I was able), worried about leaks. I listened for the tell tale patter of droplets hitting the cement beneath me, indicating that the diaper had leaked, but I heard nothing. While there were no passersby, I reached my hand between my legs and felt for wetness. The Pull-up felt squishy and warm but I didn’t feel any leaks. I read more of my book, all the while enjoying the warm squishy feeling of the wet diaper between my legs. After a couple more chapters, I was starting to get chilly and decided to get up and head back to the mall to get changed before heading home. I hoisted my heavy backpack, picked up my bag, and headed back to the mall. The wet diaper under my skirt felt heavy and rubbed against my thighs subtly. I navigated my way into the mall and found the nearest washroom. Once again, I surreptitiously made my way into the family washroom and barred the door. Because I had in no way emptied my bladder earlier, I wiped off the toilet seat, pulled down my Pull-ups, and peed. I tore the sides of the diaper pretty badly yanking them down, and I tore them off completely while I was peeing. I inspected the gathers and cute designs on the Pull-ups and noticed that I had made the ‘learning designs’ thoroughly disappear. It looked like I needed some more time to learn. After wiping myself, and snapping some pics of the wet Pull-up for all you perverts, I rummaged in my bag and found another diaper. This one I tore badly trying to pre-stretch it, so I stuffed it back in the bag (even torn diapers can be fun, but at home), and pre-stretched another. I carefully shimmied this one up, checked myself in the mirror, washed my hands, and then headed off into the mall once more. I was all excited at having changed myself in a public washroom, and rethinking the whole adventure on my head as I walked to the SkyTrain. I was feeling very naughty by the time I arrived, and as I was on the ground floor, I was less than careful with holding the back of my skirt as I made my way up the steep stairs to the platform. Did I flash a tight pair of Pull-ups to a pervy stranger beneath me? Possibly. But even the prospect of doing this quickened my pulse. I sat on the SkyTrain most ladylike, thank you very much, my adventures with subtle exhibitionism only go so far, and I texted my hubby to see if he was home, he was, and I let him know that he should be ready for a very horny Rachel when I got home. I was throbbing by the time I reached my stop (which isn’t many stops), and I hurried home. My husband didn’t say anything when I got in the door, pushed him into the bedroom and removed my clothes, revealing a brand of diaper that we don’t normally have in the house. It didn’t stay on long however, and I got myself good and satisfied. Well, I hope you enjoyed my adventure, I will share some more soon of course. If you appreciate my work, do please consider buying a pair of my panties or just getting me something off my wishlist, the more fun things I have to wear and play with, the more stories I can share! http://rachelkirwan.wixsite.com/panties Here’s to the next 8000…. Rachel

After Eastern Isle, I really wanted to do a more personal story for Franziska, the main character of that interactive. I wanted to focus on her time as a monster hunter, traveling across the various countries as she takes contracts to slay the deadly beasts that prowl the land. This story focuses on Franziska and her traveling companion, Eliza. The chapters will focus on the perspectives of both girls as they travel across the land, looking for their next contract. They're relatively short chapters, more like mini-chapters that change between the girls. ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Chapter I: Franziska It was a dull morning, with grey skies looming overhead. Franziska and her companion no sooner escaped the snowy tundras of the east before the storm that had been following them came. When it started, the whole forest shook with powerful winds, showers of icy cold rain poured from the skies, and before too long, the roads became thick swamps of mud, and a fog that Franziska could only describe as an omen swept over the land. She was not unfamiliar with Balkanan weather, having traveled her as a youth; the harsh weather between it’s border and Serkaine’s did not give the country of wine and merriment the reputation it deserved. She had forgotten as she navigated her carriage through the foggy, murk-filled landscape that she had left the east at all. For Franziska, A Selkava fighter turned mercenary, the contracts in the eastern land of Serkaine had dried up. Work was rare and when it was found, it paid poorly. She stuck to the tundras and border towns, taking work from settlements that struggled to fight against the onslaught of deadly monsters. But recently, she struggled to make coin. It was not uncommon, even in the most dangerous lands, for contracts to dry up. Once it happened, Franziska would do what she had countless times before: move on to a new land. She had heard rumours of work in the camps and villages in Balkana, the neighboring country. That didn’t surprise her; even the country of wine and song had its share of monsters and better for the Monster Hunter, more coin to fill her empty purse. She had decided to ride for the country of Balkana, hoping to fill her purse, which meant journeying south and through the mountain passage of Veltalka Fortress. However, Franziska had one change in the routine of travel she had made for herself over a decade. A traveling companion. A young runaway called Eliza. The Cleric had treated Franziska after arriving at her convent, wounded from an ambush of Shambling corpses. Eliza, stricken with wanderlust, had pleaded for Franziska to take her with her, and although stubborn at first, Franziska gave in to the idea of having company, somebody to make the days less long. In the end, she left the convent with the young cleric by her side, and continued her journey south. It had been a week since the girls left the convent in Astorak. They had passed through the last of the towns on the Serkainian border. All that was left was the long stretch of forest known to travelers as the “Forest of Spirits.” Before the mountain passage of Veltalka Fortress. The morning began like any other after their first night camping; with breakfast in their bellies and a piss on the trees before heading out. The lack of supplies troubled Franziska but she had not taken proper inventory, wanting to be on the trail before sunrise. It had been a journey since dawn. They had rode well into the afternoon without a single stop. Franziska was feeling her legs go numb and she felt the pressing need to water the plants. “Let’s pull over for a little bit.” She told Eliza. Once they were in the deeper roads of the forest, sheltered from the storm, Franziska pulled the carriage to the side of the pathway and allowed herself and her companion some time to stretch their legs and empty their bladders after a long journey. As soon as the carriage stopped, Eliza scrambled down and rushed off toward the bushes furthest from their stop. “Remember not to stray too far from the caravan!” Franziska called out to her, echoing the warning she gave Eliza every time the Cleric went off to relieve herself. “I know~” Eliza groaned. She pulled her cloak over her head and vanished behind the bushes, nearly tripping over them. The last Franziska saw of the Cleric was her head as she squatted down. It had been a long journey, and Franziska, after several hours and a flask of tea was feeling the same urge as her friend. But she was the one responsible for caring for their horses and taking inventory of their supplies. She took a moment to stretch and to tend to a pesky itch on her arse. She buried her hand beneath her greaves and scratched her cheek; it felt good, finally catering to an itch that had her cheek twitching. Once was done fumbling beneath her cloak, she climbed down from the wooden carriage. Her boots squelched on the muddy road, sinking into the wet dirt. Even under the trees, she could still feel the pitter-patter of rain; it was icy cold. She trudged through the mud, wind sweeping her ruby red hair across her eyes. She grumbled and pulled the hood of her cloak up over herself to shield herself from the elements. She walked around the back of the carriage and pulled the steel bolt off the doors. The wind swept the doors open, sending them crashing against the sides with a banging thud, barely giving her time to avoid them. Franziska cursed and climbed into the caravan, out of the path of the biting winds. She took inventory of what they had left. Their supplies were dwindling. Her skills as a Monster Hunter had gone unrewarded as the past few towns offered few jobs and even fewer coin. “Hells…” She cursed. Some vegetables for stew and the dust of a bag of tea leaves. Barely enough to feed them for a few more days. She hated to do it, but at least until Veltalka, she'd have to ration their supplies. Other than that all they had left was Franziska’s silver swords, two silver blades that stood out among the dull boxes and sacks with a distinct gleam. She took one in her hands, the silver burned faintly against her gloves. "I would hate to have to sell one of you." Both swords had been with her for the best part of a decade, but pure silver was worth at least a months supply of food. She rested the sword back down, not dwelling on the thought of selling her best tools for her trade already. It was a hasty thought at best right now. She reached over her silver swords and grabbed a tattered sack full of oats for the horses. She pocketed a small flask of tea. Traveling in this cold had chilled her blood and she needed something to stave off the chill. She hoisted it to the front of the carriage and dropped it, letting it sink into the muddy road. The horses whinnied at the howling winds but settled themselves once they saw the bag of oats Franziska had hoisted for them. She grabbed a handful and held them out for the first horse. “You must be hungry after trotting through this weather.” She smiled, reaching out with her other hand to pet the horse. It huffed, but didn’t turn down the oats, or a pat. “There’s a good horse.” She whispered in Serkainian. The bushes behind her rustled. Franziska turned, seeing her companion squatting behind them, the rough fabric of a cloak shuffling between the trees. “Almost finished?” She asked Eliza. “N-Not quite.” Eliza squeaked. “I’m not used to doing it outside. Especially with company so close. Did you have to insist I stay so close to the caravan?” “I can’t have you wandering off. It’s not called the Forest of Spirits without reason.” She took a swig from the flask of tea. “I thought you said Spirits don’t come out during the daytime.” “I said they don’t come out in daylight.” She looked up at the tall trees stretching up to the dull afternoon sky and back down into the surrounding forest. “Plenty of shadows around here though. And young girls going to take a shit in the woods? Those are the easiest prey.” For a brief moment, Franziska questioned sneaking up behind Eliza and grabbing her, mimicking a spirit going for it’s prey. That would’ve certainly scared the shit out of her. But she wished to tend to the horses, and with how jittery Eliza could be, she didn’t want to make this journey any more tense than it already was. She sounded stressed enough shitting in the bushes. The first horse whinnied happily. Franziska reached down into the sack of oats and took another handful for the other horse. She tended to both horses, often looking over her shoulder to see a small figure fidgeting behind the bushes. Franziska smirked. She found the shy nature of her companion endearing. It reminded her of herself when she was a youth, fearful of everything, nervous to the point she even struggled to drop a log if it wasn’t in the privacy of a privy. Though her own upbringing with the Selkava made it easier for her to adjust to long journeys. Unlike Eliza, a pampered cleric who had spent her life in the confines of a comfortable church. Once the horses had been fed, there was only one thing left to do before journeying deeper into the forest. Franziska reached under her cloak and unbuckled her belt. She trudged through the muddy grass and toward Eliza. “H-Hey… What are you coming over here for?” Eliza squeaked, her face redder than a maiden’s spanked arse. She pulled her cloak over herself, covering her bare backside. Franziska ignored her companions cries and headed towards one of the large oaks Eliza was squatting beside. “We’ve been riding without a single stop since sunrise.” She lifted her cloak, pulled down her greaves no further than her knees and squatted over the trunk of the tree. “What do you think I’m doing?” She stuttered with bliss as she felt the warmth flow between her lips. “Ha~” The air resonated with a hissing as Franziska watered the trunk of the large oak. Her stream ran down the trunk, moistening the dry patch of mud beneath her. Her water steamed in the cold air, rising up and wafting against her bare arse. She finished quickly. The last few drops spilled from between her and she finished with a sigh. “Dammit…” She looked around for something to wipe, but had no choice but to use the edge of her cloak. She wiped between her legs with the rough fabric and pulled her greaves back up. A few seconds hunched over a tree and her arse had gone numb. It was getting colder. Franziska wrapped her cloak tightly around herself and headed back for the carriage. “Be quick, okay?” “I’m trying.” Eliza squeaked from the bushes. “Just relax. Try thinking of rivers... or waterfalls.” Franziska jested. “I would if that was… what I was doing…” The cleric’s voice was barely louder than a whisper. “Mudslides then.” Franziska shrugged her shoulders. After relieving herself, she headed back to the carriage and climbed atop it. She took the reins in her hands, waited a minute, then pounded against the side of their carriage with an impatient fist. “Are you done laying dirt?” She called over to Eliza. “We need to get moving. We’re losing daylight.” The cleric emerged from the bushes, fumbling with her trousers. She held her stomach and frowned. She climbed up onto the carriage, wincing as she bent inwards against her belly and took her seat beside Franziska. She didn’t say anything, she just sat holding her stomach and looking straight ahead with an agonized glare. Eliza was a pretty girl, though journeying had withered away her soft city-looks; her face was flaked with flecks of dried dirt, her soft cheeks bore a scratch or two that were yet to heal and the cold had made her skin pale. Though past the filth and pale skin, she was a soft girl, short and kind-eyed with a smile that rarely dwindled, a fitting appearance for a cleric, somebody to make people feel better as they tended to their wounds. A little sister of sorts. That was how Franziska saw her, somebody who was always there for her, ready to take care of her whenever the need arose. Wanting to break the silence, Franziska patted her companion on the back. “No need to look so miserable. I couldn’t shit outside when I first started traveling either.” She didn’t get even a smile out of Eliza, who just huffed and kept looking ahead, holding her stomach tighter. Franziska shrugged, grabbed the reins and rode off through the muddy trails of the forest.

Sometimes, when women urinate, I’ve noticed that sometimes they make a hissing sound from the force of the pee gushing out, and it just arouses me so badly~ 💙 What are your opinions on hearing a girl having a piss-hiss?

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View File Assorted Wetting Videos Some recent finds with wetting mostly. Contains nudity and girls making out. Enjoy, Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 02/17/2019 Category Female videos Clothing  

View File Assorted Pissing Videos Here are a handful of peeing videos I came across recently, new to me, and I also have no idea how the one couple has sex while peeing.... ***Sex and nudity *** Enjoy, Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 02/17/2019 Category Peeing  

View File JAV - TURA-335 - Doctor Makes Her Squirt/Pee A urologist masturbates women with a Hitachi until many of them leak all over the place. Enjoy, Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 02/17/2019 Category Peeing  

View File JAV - AP-430 - Bathroom Molestation and Wetting Well this is a strange JAV where women are molested in bathroom stalls and wet their panties... Not my thing but thought I'd share before deleting it. Enjoy Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 02/16/2019 Category Female videos Clothing  

This is my FIRST interactive fanfiction, and I’ve been actually wanting to try it out for a while! Here are some bios to get you acquainted. Name: Maria Kuvaeva Nicknames: Masyanya, Moxxie Gender: Female Preference: Pan Age: 30 Bladder Capacity: 850 ml Personallity: Tomboyish, sassy, quirky, humourous Name: Alexander Trofimovich Nicknames: Hyrundel, Boar Gender: Male Preference: Straight Age: 27 Bladder capacity: 1000 ml Personallity: Lazy, dumb, lovable, Name: Anton Nicknames: Lokhmaty, Shaggy Gender: Male Preference: Gay Age: 25 Bladder Capacity: 500 ml Personality: Air-headed, nerdy Hyrundrel Lokhmaty Masyanya