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Riley.odt

Today was the end of my first week at my new job, and a couple of my volunteers and co-workers took me out for drinks after work this evening. I was wearing a long ankle length dress and pair of my favorite little mermaid panties (black fishy panties). Well after a couple of drinks (really good local craft beer, Vancouver has tonnes of this), I called the hubby and he came and joined us after his work and some complicated transit. The celebrating ended somewhat early, so that it was still light when we headed for the Skytrain home. Now as some of you know, I’ve a bit of a reputation for being a slightly leaky and messy drunk. I wasn’t drunk at this point but I was feeling incredibly naughty so rather than head right home with my hubby, I took us on a detour when we got off the Skytrain and led us to a park near our place. We hung out sitting on the grass for a while talking and laughing and then making out a little bit like horny teenagers. It was tones of fun. I love doing this sort of thing, as I really didn’t do it very much as a teen, but I need to be in the right mood. Well I definitely was in the right mood and getting more excited by the minute. I was sitting with my dress underneath me, and at one point I shifted my legs so that it pooled around me, exposing my panty-covered bum to the cool grass. While kissing my hubby I guided his hand up my dress to touch me over my panties. It felt very naughty being felt up in a public place, and my heart was pounding. My bladder was also filling. The ride home from the pub was not a short one, and I’m not known for my iron bladder. It was becoming noticeably full, something that was not by the position I was sitting in. Feeling the urge, combined with being incredible turned on as a result of the serious heavy petting I was experiencing and the beers, I decided I wanted to be extra naughty. Switching into little’s mode mid-kiss I broke off to whisper in my hubbies ear “Daddy, I have to pee.” He stopped for a moment, his hand still rubbing the outside of my panties. “Right now? Can you hold it?” He inquired, playing along gamefully. I shook my head in an exaggerated shake. “You want me to…” But before he had a chance to reply, I grabbed his arm, pushing his hand firmly against the crotch of my panties, and shook my head. His eyes grew wide. He’s not into wetting and kinky stuff all that much, but he knows how much it turns me on, he didn’t mind playing along, knowing it would drive me wild. It didn’t take more than an instant before I released, as I really did have to go, and I flooded my already slightly damp panties. The feeling of warmth that spread quickly across the gusset of my panties, augmented by the pressure from his hand (which had stopped rubbing) was amazing. I could feel the grass around my inner thighs and bum getting wet and was suffused in a full body feeling of ‘naughtiness’ looking out around the public and well-occupied park as I soaked my panties. I think if I had been doing this exact thing as a teenage I would have climaxed right there on the spot, but I’m no longer a horny teenager, I could certainly wait until I got home, but just barely. After I had stopped, I reveled n the feeling of warm pee slowly cooling in my panties, and continued to look around the park at the various people, going about their day, oblivious to the enormity of the panty wetting going on under my dress. After a little while, my hubby removed his soaked hand and wiped it on the grass. I grinned at him in a horny-stupid grin I’ve seen mostly guys make, and blurted out something like “Take me home Daddy, I had an accident.” Now out of character he said “I’ll say you had.” And he helped me up. As I stood, I was careful so that my dress didn’t get into too much contact with my soaked panties. I could also feel the now cool pee running down the insides of my legs, like tantalizing chilly tongues, licking my inner thighs, sending tingling shivers all over my body. I wobble a little at first but then we were on our way. Our place is about 5 blocks from the park, and about a block along I asked my hubby if he could see a wet spot, while feeling my bum. He informed me that he could not, and I was satisfied that the thickness of the dress and downward dripping motion of the pee, meant that no one could see I had peed my panties. I loved the rubbing feeling of the wet edges of my panty gussets on my inner thigh, and I could feel my pulse throbbing in my sex. My heart was pounding, and my entire body was screaming for sex. The elevator ride up to our flat was almost tortuous, if I hadn’t been holding my hubbies hand. He tried at some more role play, and blurted out something about little girls who wet their panties needing to be punished, but I stopped him, moving out of the age-play dynamic which sometimes he has difficulty getting into, I whispered in his ear in a distinctly un-little voice. “I need you to fuck me, and hard.” I could tell that this took all the pressure off him. I rubbed up against him like a scent marking cat and groped the front of his trousers. He was pretty hard when we exited the elevator and headed for our flat. I’m glad we didn’t run into any of our neighbours at this time. Once inside, we both shed our clothes with gusto. My shoes were off and in a single fluid motion I had my dress up over my head so that I was standing in the front hallway in nothing by a bra and wet panties. Still mostly dressed my hubby guided me into our room, and undid my bra. When we went to remove my wet panties I stopped him and told him I wanted them on, and that I wanted it rough. He was naked before I knew it, and I was on my hands and knees on the bed, exposing my wet-panty covered bum to him. He reached for the wet gusset, and pulling it aside, entered me, roughly. I don’t usually share these last details in my story, but I couldn’t resist sharing this part today. The feeling of being fucked (this was no love-making), while still wearing the panties that I had wet in public a short while ago drove me wild. Every thrust shifted the fabric of my wet panties against me let, and reminded me of my ‘accident.’ It did not take either of us to climax and it was certainly a most satisfying one. As I came, I could feel myself leaking considerably, and I added even more fluid into the soaking panties. I was all manic and energized from the park activity and couldn’t lay still for the post-sex cuddle. I also had to pee again, that very pressing after-sex pee that has to happen now. Well I grabbed my husband’s phone and stood up, I was dripping cum into my panties as I did so. I found a well lit place in our room, and shot some video of me soaking my panties even more. I couldn’t stop dripping cum, and pee, and all manner of other sexy fluids into my panties. I stood there and enjoyed the rushing feeling, the unstoppable dripping feeling. Filling my panties. I took two videos (well more than that), but I had to do some amateur editing to cut out my girl parts, which were clearly visible at different times. I think I must have leaked into my panties for a good 4 minutes. And afterwards I had to put on a Goodnite, as I was dripping all evening! Soaking Panties 1.mp4 Soaking Panties 2.mp4 Well, I wanted to share this story with you all, I hope you enjoyed it. It was certainly tonnes of fun for me! You can’t quite make out just how wet my panties were because of their colour, but they were certainly soaked. The shot of the gusset provides an example of just how wet they got. In case anyone is interested, the panties in question, dried after being soaked thoroughly twice, are for sale, in case anyone wants them! Let me know and get in touch or visit my site: http://rachelkirwan.wixsite.com/panties Rach p.s. Now that my panties have dried, I can tell you that they smell divine, the perfect after-sex and panty-wetting accident smell!

View File RJSD-01 public bath sitting An older Jade video in which ladies using a public bathhouse casually and discreetly relieve themselves while seated. Submitter EnragedFilia Submitted 06/21/2017 Category Peeing  

Hey i was wondering if anyone had the lovewetting video "out of gas" with licky lex. Ive attached a screenshot

I was beyond desperate by the time I pulled into the grocery store parking lot. Of course, this was exactly as I had planned. It was a sunny Friday and I had spent all morning drinking water and cranberry juice to prepare for my show. The specifics of how it would go-- where, how and in front of who-- I hadn’t decided yet. This was going to be another impromptu (that’s the only kind of convincing public wetting anyways!!) and my quivering bladder was making me super excited. I wore my faded, light-blue, button-fly levis that some of you may recall me wearing on my first public wetting. Like all of my favorite jeans, they’re tight and form-fitting around my thighs and crotch. The legs on these are boot cut below the calf—not really skinny but not really flared either. And the worn seam always feels amazing rubbing against my bare clit as I walk! I fastened them with a leather belt and wore sandals and a simple v-neck, dark blue t-shirt to complete my casual, grocery shopper attire. The store was a little out of the way—certainly not one I usually go to. It was larger and a lot more crowded than my regular. The sheer volume of people walking around the entrance immediately turned me on. Thinking about all of those bystanders witnessing me piss myself tempted me to tease my bladder muscles. Grabbing a cart, I thought about how little effort it would take to let go and flood my jeans. But that’s not how I wanted my show to go. Not so soon. (I wanted to actually finish my grocery shopping if I could!) So I regained control, walked in, and joined the busy shopper circuit. I remember hearing the worn denim between my inner thighs brush against itself as I walked. At my first stop, the deli, a surprise wave of intense desperation hit me, and I had to cross my legs tightly together and hunch over to compose myself. There was so much to do before I could put on my show! And finding an appropriate opportunity might take even more time. I realized early on that this could be more difficult to make it through than my other stunts. There were quite a few items on my shopping list. (I honestly didn’t expect to be able to grab everything—I could have to abort the whole damn thing after all!!) But it actually became an exciting challenge. Looking back, it’s hard for me to determine exactly how long it took. I think my hand spent more time clutching my pussy than it did guiding the cart! The constant stimulation on my vagina was keeping me constantly aroused! My face felt flush most of the time and I caught myself using my distressed state as an excuse to subtly caress my clit through my jeans more and more frequently. Far more noticeable, surely, were my dancing knees and the constant pivoting of my weight from hip to hip. Indeed, a few people did notice my desperate behavior. One man in particular seemed extra interested. He followed me down a couple of aisles, keeping his distance but always with an unblocked view of me in his sights. (Of course, it’s possible it was just a coincidence and he was going about his business like everyone else. I acted unaware just in case he was looking—I don’t like to discourage admirers!) At one especially agonizing point, I caught sight of the employee bathrooms and felt my exhausted bladder convulse uncontrollably—but my firm grip over my urethra spared me a premature wetting. I really do think this new hobby of mine has weakened my bladder. It’s probably just psychological—knowing that, so long as I act like it’s an accident, I can piss myself anywhere I choose without any major public fallout. It really takes the edge off having to go! I was still a little nervous despite the acknowledgement. And, of course, it did nothing for the physical discomfort I was suffering. An ‘accident’ was clearly imminent. When I finally got all my things, I walked briskly to the checkout lines and picked a long one just to enhance my desperation! A part of me hated myself. I wanted nothing more than to pee my jeans right there. But I had just invested all this time into gathering mine and my husband’s weekly groceries. I’m pretty daring, I know, but I don’t think I could muster the courage to piss myself and then continue waiting in line like nothing happened! So I held my legs together, fists clenched by my side, bouncing on my knees, and waited. When it was my turn, and the conveyor belt was finally clear, I started to unload my cart. I finished before the woman in front of me had even got her checkbook out—she had just spent a lot of time scrutinizing the grocery selection (or expressing some other petty concern along those lines). It was an old woman, (Obviously! She looked like she got her hair permed every week), but seemed to be in good health. And she was very talkative with the cashier. A middle-aged man pulled up behind me, closing me in. Another woman with a full cart queued behind him as well. After some time of frivolous discourse between the poor cashier and her enthusiastic customer, a wave of desperation suddenly struck me. I crossed my legs, shifting my weight fully onto my left, and held them tightly together. It very quickly rose to an unbearable amount of pain. At the peak of my agony I couldn’t help but throw my cupped fingers over my pussy, my bladder pathetically quivering, and hunch over, grimacing with my teeth tightly clenched and my eyes firmly shut. I can’t remember what I was thinking in that moment but I’m sure it was nothing coherent! I do remember hearing the loud impact of my cupped fingers when they hit my crotch and the weird, shutter-groan noise I made to cope. I opened my eyes to see the cashier, bagger and old woman looking in my direction. I’m sure the people behind me took note as well. Embarrassed, (but also aroused with anticipation of the coming show) I found my nerve and regained my composure. Smiling tentatively to assure my cashier I was ok, I mustered a weak, “Hi” The old woman tactfully concluded her conversation and walked off with her loaded cart. The cashier, a young woman with neck-length, auburn hair, exchanged her obligatory, brief pleasantries with me, not delving into the topic of my obvious desperation, and started scanning my things with skillful haste. The bagger, too, followed suit—taking my cart and filling it methodically with my bagged groceries. It was excellent service! (I’m tempted to reveal the name of the grocery store but I’m afraid my story would yield more bad publicity than good!) When it was finally time to pay I hobbled to the card scanner and inserted my chip as soon as the total appeared on the screen. That wave of desperation that had eroded my decency earlier still felt far from subsiding though. In fact, standing still, waiting for the damn scanner to read the chip in my card, only made the pain mount even more! I pulled my card out and signed the little screen as prompted. Again, I had to brace my pussy tightly with my fingers to endure my desperation. This time though, (to save my dignity I suppose), I turned away from the cashier and bagger to face the people waiting behind me, leaning my hip against the side of the conveyor. My left arm was crossed over my abdomen holding my side and, with my right hand, I held my crotch firmly. I hunched over a bit with what must have certainly been an agonized expression on my face and maintained my composure as best I could. It was difficult, but I held back the flood gates. When the receipt printer sounded, signifying a shopping success, a part of my mind was put at ease. Still feeling desperate however, and still looking desperate, I dared myself to let out just a little. Enough to show but not enough to warrant a hasty escape! I didn’t bother looking to see if the people in front of me were watching-- that probably would have psyched me out! The trick with these shows is to just give in split second. So, holding my breath, I grimaced, quietly gasping when I felt my bladder muscles convulse… and then relax. There was a trickle of wetness and warmth against my fingers. Slowly, a dark spot emerged around my hand, growing down my inner thighs, expanding across my legs. I was surprised how much was escaping with how cautious I was being. Honestly I had just intended to feel it against my fingers! I looked up to meet the eyes of the two people waiting in line, but theirs were fixated on my crotch. They stared wordlessly: the man still unloading his groceries onto the conveyor and the woman standing patiently behind her cart. Both stared intently at my obviously growing stain. Social inhibitions took control and my pelvic muscles attempted to cut the stream. My bladder violently protested, urine still stubbornly pooling in my crotch, softly hissing. I could hear myself breathing heavily, my bladder was screaming louder at me with every passing moment. I wanted to give up. “Oh god,” I shuttered pathetically. I gave up. Intensely hot pee burst against the inside of my jeans-- against the pressure of my cupped fingers-- with a fierce manifest destiny! It hardly got a chance to pool beneath my crotch before shooting to the sides of my pelvis all the way to the seam, darkening the light blue color of the denim. Skinny golden streams erupted out of the fabric on my thigh, just below my pocket, arching outwards with force and splattering on the ground. I felt it shoot up my ass crack as well, dampening the crease between my cheeks. It had already formed a glistening stain halfway up my fly when I pulled my hand away from the torrent. “Oh god, oh god!” My piss appeared to be streaming against the surface of the denim now, rushing quickly down my legs. The man waiting stared silently, seemingly scornful. He was taken aback, definitely, but still composed. The woman behind him not-so-discretely, but certainly not without sympathy, exclaimed “oh dear”. My flight instinct took hold. It had only been moments but I couldn’t bear to face them anymore. I was shaking. Before my piss had a chance to form a puddle beneath me, I turned, grabbed my cart, and walked briskly to the exit. My hurried strides and immense embarrassment made it easier to cut the stream, though it persisted for a good many steps before finally ceasing. My bladder was still screaming at me but I was at least partially relieved. (I still really had to go, though) Hidden behind my cart, I was able to navigate to the exit without many people turning their heads. Some noticed in passing, of course. But they probably took note of my tearful sniffling and red face before seeing the glimmering stain all over my crotch. Yes, I had started crying. Don’t get me wrong—I was incredibly aroused. But I was also shaken up and relieved that I had allowed myself to lose control like that! Embarrassed but not sorry. It actually is a hard sensation to describe. For some reason, unlike every time before, it really hit home to me that I was a participant in the show rather than an observer. Looking into those people’s faces and hearing that woman’s response—I felt almost trapped in the moment. I kept thinking about the time I pissed myself in the crowded subway, standing less than a foot in front of a guys face! That was so much more public, yet that hadn’t worked me up nearly as much as this… Halfway to my car I was startled to hear a man’s voice, “Ma’am?” My heart dropped. Crazy thoughts rushed into my head. What if it was the store manager? What if he called the police? What would I tell my husband? I took a breath and spun to answer. It was the bagger, looking just as embarrassed as I felt. “I- I think I should-,” he didn’t quite know what to say. Finally he found the words, “let me help you load those into your car.” He was young and tall and the genuine sympathy in his voice quickly put me at ease. I wiped some teary dribble from under my nose and nodded, “Thank you.” I tried to give him the warmest smile I could muster. Maybe the nice cashier or one of my onlookers put him up to it. Or maybe he really did feel sorry enough for me to try and help. Whatever the case he had just run all the way out here to catch up with me and help in some way. I couldn't refuse. “I’m so embarrassed.” I took a moment to assess the damage more thoroughly. My jeans felt heavier with the extra water weight, and the initial warmth of my urine was quickly becoming colder-- it felt good in the blazing heat of the parking lot. The stain covered me pretty thoroughly—stretching from the front of my waistband to the back of my calves. I also couldn’t help but feel like this would be a perfect opportunity to relieve myself fully. (With a dedicated audience no less!) Standing still, even for that brief moment, reminded me that I was still bursting! “God I’m so mortified!” Mr. Bagger took my cart and walked beside me to my car. I made sure to waddle ahead of him, swaying my hips as I walked, enjoying the urinary lubrication between my butt cheeks, feeling his eyes follow my ass. He started telling me about how his mother suffered from incontinence. Apparently she had problems ever since his brother was born five years prior. Her problem wasn’t mine, of course, but I felt comforted by his story nonetheless. I had apparently staged a very convincing accident! My heart was fluttering. There was more to come. When we got to my car I reached for the trunk. I drive a Nissan rogue, so the trunk pulls open above my head. My strategy formulated itself very quickly. Clutching the handle with both hands, I pulled the trunk up and felt my bladder tinge from the full body stretch. It wasn’t enough to actually cause an involuntary release, but, with my legs held together tightly, I acted as though it had-- grimacing, gasping, and exerting all the Kegel strength I could muster. Piss erupted from my urethra with torrential power, rushing forcefully over my clit. It felt like a showerhead bringing me to ecstasy! I looked down and saw my stain begin to glisten again, hot urine surfacing through the denim, cascading down my legs, pouring through the cuts on the knees of my jeans. You could hear it loudly gushing against the inside of my button-fly. Hot urine streamed over my sandaled feet and toes, quickly forming a large puddle around me. Again, a lovely, yellow arch of piss burst through the denim of my outer thigh, just below the side of my pocket, splattering against the thin, plastic grocery bags in the cart parked just beside me. I looked over at my guy, breathing heavily with an open mouth, locking eyes with him, forming the most pathetic and distressed expression I could. I threw both my hands off the trunk handle and into my crotch, making a show of trying to stop the flood. Clutching my pussy made the hot piss expand farther along my pelvis—even my pockets turned dark with wetness. The sloppy sounds of flesh cupping water, squishing soaked fabric, mixed in with the rest of the liquid ensemble. I sighed with anguished relief and looked up at Mr. Bagger again, “God it just won't stop!” I managed an awkward, sniffly cry-laugh and wiped my eye with my shoulder. I was still peeing intensely hard. And I noticed the dark asphalt couldn’t drink my piss fast enough to slow the growth of my puddle. Mr. Bagger started unloading my cart and looked at me kindly (though I noticed he kept stealing glances at the piss pouring over my fingers and cascading down my legs.) He said something along the lines of, “Accidents happen. When you get home you can wash your clothes and take a shower. All of this will seem like it happened to someone else.” A special note to Mr. Bagger if you ever read this. One: sorry for the ruse—I did it for the sexual thrill! Hope you enjoyed the show! Two: you’re a really good person and you’ll make an excellent spouse someday! If I was fully and truly distressed that would have been even more comforting to hear than it already was! “You’re right,” I agreed with another sniffle. I dragged my hands from my crotch along the ‘v’ of my pelvis up to my hips. My torrent showed no signs of yielding-- it was beyond stopping at this point. I parted my legs a little and enjoyed the warm current coursing through my jeans. “I can’t stop,” I admitted. “I've never felt so relieved, though!” To that, Mr. Bagger and I shared a chuckle. The waterfall tapered off gradually until all that was left of my stream were the droplets falling from my wrinkles. I stood there, dripping, soaked from my waist to the soles of my feet, while my guy finished transferring all my bags. I let him take a five dollar bill from the pocket on my purse where I keep my money. I would have handed it to him myself but my fingers were still dripping with pee. He thanked me and grabbed my cart to take it to the cart-holder thing farther up the parking lot, stealing one final glance at my glistening jeans before turning to leave. Then I laid my towel over my driver’s seat, sat down, closed the door, and started the car. Without thinking, I unfastened my belt and tore my button fly open. It was harder than normal because of how soaked the denim was. But I managed to do it with one hand and started fingering myself vigorously. I suppose what follows is pretty self-explanatory! I hope you guys enjoyed my experience as much as I did! I know I teased this story a long time ago from my last post so hopefully the wait was worth it. This was written down a while ago but I never took the time to properly edit it until now. I’ve been pretty busy lately with work and my husband and I have traveled a little bit too. Needless to say I have a lot more experiences to share. Also I told him about this very public fetish and showed him all my stories! I think he was more amused than aroused at first, probably more turned on by how turned on wetting made me, but he’s learned to love it! He doesn’t like wetting himself though—which is fine. He enjoys the spectacle far more than the sensation I suppose! (Also he’s a big fan of my zipper discovery from my last story just like I had predicted. I have more experiences to share about that as well!!) I’ll make a tumblr to keep my posts on omo relevant to omo. When it’s made I’ll update you guys so you can continue to give me encouragement on all of my experiences. Ta ta for now!

For those who’ve been waiting—here it is! When I left off, I had just completely soaked my jeans right in front of a gas station attendant. It was exhilarating and terrifying and so positively arousing! So I got home more excited than ever for my subway show and threw my dirty clothes in the dryer. Then I started putting together another outfit. For my pants, which obviously is the most important, I picked out my beige, AE skinny jeans. They’re pretty old, thick, and, like all my favorite jeans, comfortably tight and exceptionally form-fitting. (They also have a pretty big inseam which rubs ever so sensually against my bare pussy when I go commando!) I also put on a black belt, a white baseball tee with blue, elbow-length sleeves, and some grey converse. This is the kind of thing I’d wear to class, which I ride the subway to, so I thought it’d seem innocent enough. At this point the only thing left to do was to wait and hydrate myself to the breaking point. Even when I got home I had already started feeling some urinary pressure. I had been drinking all morning and what hadn’t made its way on to the floor of the gas station was starting to fill up my bladder. But I wasn’t going to leave this to chance, obviously, so I downed a couple glasses of cranberry juice, some more tea, and the oldest stand-by: water. It’s pretty amazing how much your kidneys can filter in such a short amount of time. By 3:30 I was past the point where I would have headed to the bathroom. And by 4:30 I ran out of the house, desperate to get this show going just so I could feel the relief! My jeans were feeling tight and if I unbuttoned and unzipped them you could clearly see my bulging bladder. I drove off to the subway station, about 10 to 12 minutes away from my house, squirming and firmly holding my crotch the whole time, and made my way down the stairs to the terminal. Initially I was taken aback by how crowded it already was. I started to worry about whether or not I could muster my courage and do it! I tentatively hopped on a train going into the city, which wasn’t that crowded and tried to calm myself down. I sat on that car for about 5 stops just observing the people around me. Every now and then I could catch someone’s eye before they quickly aborted the interaction and looked away. Along the way potent waves of desperation hit me and I’d have to wiggle my foot or tap my heel against the ground with my legs firmly crossed to relieve the pain. I tried to imagine how I’d feel if I wet myself right then and started to panic. At the fifth stop I realized I couldn’t do it and to just go home—or at least pee myself in the parking lot next to my car. I gave up and decided to exit the train and get on the return line. My confidence was pretty low. When I stood up gravity hit me—hard! But, doubled-over and with my hands tightly wound against my sensitive crotch, I remained in control. I managed to step off the train before the doors closed and made my way across the terminal to wait for the train going the opposite way. It felt like it took forever! I had to stand with my legs crossed and my hands in my back pockets to keep from fidgeting too obviously. But I couldn’t for the life of me stop from bouncing on my knees and tapping my feet. I noticed that my strange behavior was starting to draw attention. Still I had lost all confidence and was set on getting the hell out of this crowded place. The train pulled up and opened its doors. Nobody got off. I looked at my phone and saw that it was almost exactly 5: the peak of rush hour. There was no place to sit inside. And after my near accident on the last train I was almost relieved. Standing was hard but standing up from a seat was almost impossible. Thankfully there was an open pole to cling to in the middle of the aisle. It was also in the middle of a lot of people. To one side of me there was a clean-shaven guy that looked to be in his early twenties and to my other side was a woman about my age. I deiced to stand facing the guy and wrapped one arm tightly around the pole and reached over my abdomen with my other hand to strengthen my grip. These trains got lurchy at times. So with one foot directly in front of the other, heel to toe, my weight totally shifted onto my back leg, and my thighs firmly pressed together, I braced myself against the cold, metal pole for the long trip home. There were a few moments of desperation on the way back. Nothing some less-than-discreet crotch grabbing and a firm grip couldn’t handle though! On the way to my second to last stop I was already feeling disappointed at my failure. I knew there was still opportunity but in my mind the decision had been made. ‘At least I managed to pee my pants at the gas station today,’ I thought. I noticed that the guy in front of me stole some glances every now and then when he thought I wasn’t looking. I’ve been around long enough to know that look men have. But I took it as a compliment and averted his gaze to let him stare. At times I had to turn my head away just to hide my strained face. When the train came to a stuttering stop and opened its doors only a few people got off. I just stood there, feeling the guys eyes move up and down my body. It was turning me on. Suddenly, as soon as the doors closed, a wave of desperation struck me and my hand swiftly darted back to my crotch. Just then the train lurched forward and I had to grab the pole again to keep balance. Wrong move. An eruption of warmth shot around my pussy. It only lasted for a moment but there was already glistening dark spot at the base of my crotch. For a split second I thought I had regained my composure. But again I spurted uncontrollably. More warmth. I was mortified but also really turned on and utterly relieved! It continued spurting out of me in long, forceful gushes. I really was trying to regain control but only ever managed to for a split second. It really made for an authentic wetting! Spurt by spurt, piss began pooling around the base of my fly and shooting up to my waistband. Hot pee shot to the sides of my thighs along the scrunched wrinkles of my jeans and down my legs. I clenched my teeth and felt my face blush intensely. Piss was finding its way under my ass and up my butt crack. With my eyes shut tight, I tried to cease my pelvic convulsions. My bladder was torn between the relief it was feeling upon release and the desperate signals my brain was sending to it to stop! I felt warm piss fall down my pant legs and drip off the ends onto my feet. The train raged on and I dared one last look at myself. The front of my jeans were soaked and the streams against my legs were quickly becoming one big stain! The floodgates had been opened and all my efforts were clearly in vain. I looked up and saw the guy staring, wide-eyed but otherwise expressionless, at my crotch which was probably only a foot in front of him. (In hindsight I’m worried there might have been a stench). Other people had started to notice too. So, well beyond the point of no return and with all their eyes on me, I relaxed my bladder muscles. Pee was freely flowing out of me now and all I could do was hang my head in embarrassment (but really I didn’t want anybody to spot the excited gleam in my eye!) I was worried at that point that somebody would try to talk to me—either to comfort me or chastise me. But people just sat there silently. If you read my last story then you know that this is pretty much exactly what I had theorized would happen. People don’t like confronting others any more than they like being confronted. So they all just sat and stood there silently, stealing glances to watch me flood my jeans. My converse were soaked and the puddle around my feet hardly got a chance to form before streaming to the back of the train. People who noticed subtly moved their feet aside so as not to get in its way. The train started slowing down for my last stop. I had just peed for the whole minute and half it took to go between stations. And I was still going! When the doors slid opened I walked out of there as fast as I could, careful not to bump anyone with my wet jeans. Walking up the stairs and through the station was equally exhilarating! Some people noticed, (I heard a couple of kids point it out to their parents!) but I was surprised at how many didn’t. My skinny jeans were more brown than beige at this point and you could really only see their original color at the bottoms of my calves and the sides of my legs. Interested, I stopped just short of the exit and stood there a moment. Walking had help me cut the stream but I knew I still had enough in me, piss and gusto, to make one more push! I gasped silently and pretended to feel another uncontrollable convulsion. With a forceful flex, one last warm, wet stream gushed out of me. My jeans glistened where it flowed. People passed me left and right as if nothing was the matter. Satisfied, I walked briskly to me car and spread my towel on my seat. When I sat down and closed the door, I yanked down my zipper, pushed my fingers into my yawning fly and down against my pussy, and started passionately rubbing my clit. I got home in time to throw my pee-stained clothes into the washer and clean myself off before my husband got there. Writing about this has really driven home how amazing last week was! I’m also pleasantly surprised that a lot of you seem to really like my writing just as much as the content! I took a creative writing class in college but never really practiced writing other than journaling on occasion. Anyways, thanks for reading and if you have any ideas throw them my way! I work part-time four days a week in an office and usually get home around 1:30. I also go to masters classes on Monday and Wednesday nights so there’s ample opportunity to play around with this fetish! I’ll tell my husband about it eventually but right now I’m getting a lot of satisfaction from exploring it on my own! So, like I said, give me some ideas—I haven’t tried anything since this and I’m really excited to do more!

I’ve been trying to go jogging every day, and I’ve been pretty good at keeping up the regime. Where I live there are lots of big hills, especially in the nicest places to jog. There are fish streams and little hidden gullies, full of trees and rocks. If you want a scenic jog, you have to start your run jogging downhill. I usually do this. The hill I take is pretty steep. This makes for a grueling final leg home, and also puts a huge amount of pressure on my bladder while going down. While I try to be fleet of foot, it very often seems that all the shock from the decline goes straight through my legs and strikes at my bladder. For those who know me, you will know that I’ve never had the strongest bladder in the world, and have suffered from stress incontinence my whole life. Sneezes and coughing fits (fortunately few and far between), will cause leaks, as will strenuous workouts. Starting my jogs going downhill counts as strenuous apparently, and this means leaks. If I’m working out properly (and doing hills or stairs), I’ll almost certainly be leaking, especially because I stay well hydrated. This means wet panties after most rigorous workouts. I’m resigned to this by now, and sometimes will even have some fun with it. There have been a few times while I’ve been out jogging in the rain where I’ve simply purposefully soaked myself while standing waiting for a light to change. I’ve also peed my panties and running shorts while sitting on the bench on a dry night. The feeling of the warmth spreading across my bum and the dripping of the pee slipping through the slates in the bench made my heart pound and pulse quicken. When going out jogging, I have a couple of options: the first, and something I do every time I go out, I wear a pair of black running shorts which are excellent and covering up leaks and wet spots. So no one can see if I accidentally leak, or if I completely soak myself. Next, I will sometimes wear a pad. These keep my panties dry but tend to bunch as a result of the running action, and are just not as comfortable as they could be in hot weather. Since I start my runs out going downhill, the pad is often rather wet by even before the midway point of my run, making it uncomfortable at times. So while I often do wear a pad (and I’ve experimented with different brands, some of which are better than others), lately I’ve just worn panties and accepted the fact that they will be wet before I return home. Today was one such day. I went out for a lovely weekend afternoon run. It was very hot out, so I was careful to hydrate before I left (and stopped for water mid-way was well). Sure enough, I thoroughly leaked in my panties on the way down the hill and had smaller leaks at a couple of other points on my run. I thought I’d share the aftermath with the world. As you can see, they had dried somewhat by the time I got home to take a shower.

Just found the video on Pornhub and decided to share it with you guys. https://www.pornhub.com/view_video.php?viewkey=ph59a04ac9a5129 Nudity after 1:20.

...sleep so so soundly, it's ridiculous. Master's Son was with my family for the weekend & what a glorious weekend of sleep it was! However, before the sleep, there was steak! --- "I have something I want to tell you, nothing." Master calmly announced after the too-perky waitress took our order and scampered off to fill it. "Oh? What is it, Sir?" The eagerness in my voice caused a burgeoning smile to tug at the corners of Master's face...and that's a sight that always makes me happy. "You will be stopping your birth control on November 1st." Suddenly my eyes widened and excitement helped my bladder to release the small stream it had been holding back -- even as I felt the warmth in my diaper, my eyes welled with tears and spilled over as the smile grew and grew on my face. "Oh, thank you, Sir!" I cried out, as discreetly as possible in a Texas Roadhouse. "But..." Master snickered as my face fell. "Let me finish, nothing. BUT...you have to go to the restroom right now and remove your diaper for the rest of the meal." "Yes! Yes, Sir! Yes! Easiest yes EVER..." and it was. Getting the go ahead from my Master I ran to the bathroom, lifted up my maxi dress, ripped off that industrial flood gate and tossed it in the trash with glee -- like I was burning my bra or something. I must have looked pretty pleased with myself as I rejoined Master at the table, because He started to laugh. "Oh, My nothing...that was a sight -- I'm pretty sure you skipped all the way back to the table." I love hearing my Owner laugh and I started to laugh with Him. The harder I laughed, the more the warmth of my piss started to soak through my dress, but I didn't care. I just did. not. care. Every 20 minutes or so, I would feel the warmth return and hear the small drops of urine hit the peanut shell laden floor; I didn't care. Even after the food was delivered and consumed, Master had us stay there for coffee and conversation for another hour. Once we were finished, I stood -- my dress completely soaked at the back and some dampness in the front -- and I could feel the eyes on me - I could hear the snickering and the jeering...one woman even called me a heathen -- I didn't care. My sandled feet were still wet with hours worth of small, incontinent streams and it caused my feet to squeak against the pissed on material with every step I took -- I didn't care. I felt the warmth again as Master stood there to pay and a smallish c.d. sized puddle formed between my feet - while drops rolled down my inner thighs -- I didn't care. Master strapped me into the backseat, as usual and we headed home. By the time we made it home, my dress was more soaked and even as I stood from the car I felt my stream start again (thank you, Gravity) -- I didn't care. My Master was going to bless me with another child and not a damn thing else mattered. Come January, hopefully, I will be pregnant again, with Master's child. I can NOT wait. <3

View File DGP - Jeany and Sandra Jeany and Sandra from Diaper Girls in Public (DGP) Submitter tomas.abdl Submitted 08/27/2017 Category Diapers and ageplay  

View File DGP - Pinka Pinka from Diaper Girls in Public (DGP) Submitter tomas.abdl Submitted 08/27/2017 Category Diapers and ageplay  

View File DGP - Kelly and Steffi Kelly and Steffi from Diaper Girls in Public (DGP) Submitter tomas.abdl Submitted 08/26/2017 Category Diapers and ageplay  

I have been wanting to wear a diaper to work for some time now and finally worked up some courage to do so. Anyone else do this? I have added some pictures and a diaper squish video of the aftermath. Enjoy. 20170721_165736.mp4

View File JG-135 Public Incontinence 1 Title says it all. The first one's at a bookstore, the others mostly at train stations or overpasses. No drama, just public wettings. Mostly skirts, some jeans. This used to be on Jade's website, but not anymore for whatever reason. Four parts, 20-30 minutes each. Enjoy! Submitter nwohdeh Submitted 08/21/2017 Category Public wetting Clothing Jeans Skirt  

I am in love with the pissing videos of the "Brown Side of Life" from Jade. No so into the scat. I recently ran across the trailer for EE-183 and it looks fabulous. Can anyone upload?

View File 2016-07-13 - Two bottles, one bladder - violeta32_fullhd Two bottles, each with 1.5 litre of water. One is at the top of the stairs, the other one is at the bottom. Violeta has to drink from one bottle, count to 20, walk to the other bottle, drink again, count to 20 etc. Neverending story :-) Her task is to drink these 3 litres of water without peeing herself but that's an impossible task because she is sooo desperate to pee before the shooting even begins :-D So the main question isn't WHETHER she will wet her jeans but WHEN it will happen... Submitter gus74 Submitted 08/15/2017 Category Holding contests Clothing Jeans  

It's from a smaller subreddit so most here have likely never seen it and it's full of stories. Enjoy.