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Found 8 results

  1. So, today I was home alone for a little bit and decided to do a mini hold. I was looking more for the feeling of being desperate- I wasn’t aiming to lose control, but also was not going to be upset if I did. I caved in before hitting the point of desperation. Up until recently, I’ve had a bladder of steel, never having an accident. I only leaked when I had a tampon in and sneezed or coughed. I usually can predict that happening so I can take precautions. Other than that, nothing. So this really took me off guard I hit my weed pen before going to see if I could ignite a tiny leak (I don’t really leak when I cough or sneeze even when doing a hold and am fully desperate, and if I do, only a little comes out. Usually enough to dampen my underwear). Any way, I coughed and I felt a big spurt release. This took me by surprise. I froze for a hot second. I could feel my underwear was wet. I checked to see if my shorts were wet (they were blue), and they were. Before I could finish processing it, I coughed about 3-4 more times, which were followed by tiny leaks.The kind you feel release, but didn’t really make a difference to anything. By the second cough I was heading to the bathroom because I didn’t want to ruin my carpet, which was a good call because once I got to the bathroom I coughed one more time, hard. The kind where your body convulses. I felt another spurt of pee release from me, this time, I hear it hit my bathroom floor while feel it trickling down my legs. I finished peeing on the toilet, removed my wet underwear and shorts, and hopped in the shower and processed this. I noticeably peed my pants coughing. I was both excited and concerned that I had peed as much as I did. My concern is how little control I had (I usually have some) because I’ve never peed my pants in front of anyone before. Which I do hope happens one day while laughing or something, but I don’t want it happening at the wrong time. I didn’t even get all the way desperate and peed. I changed into yellow shorts and did something’s around the house and laid on the couch. Typical Sunday stuff. I got up to put something away and sat back down. When I say back down I started leaking. Or maybe peeing. I don’t know, but my body released pee for about 6-7 seconds. I tried to contract my muscles to stop it, but nothing did. I was just peeing. I didn’t even think I had to go. I touched my shorts and they were wet. I looked at my couch and had also peed on the couch. This one threw me off entirely. No stress to the pelvic floor muscle, no holding, no indication of needing to go… I just went. I went and cleaned myself up and changed again. Feeling embarrassed by this point so yeah, I peed my pants twice today. I’ve gone my whole life without accidents up until recently. Today too my by surprise. if anyone has any leaking stories, I’d love to hear them! I love hearing about surprise leaks and spurts for whatever reason. Feel free to share!
  2. I was recently travelling around the UK with my lovely husband and at times, some of his family. I spent a lot of time with the in-laws and used to afternoon or evening jogs as a way of giving me some ‘me’ time. As you all know, that very often means a little bit of wetting fun. To on one afternoon, when the hubby and I were travelling alone north of Manchester, I decided to go for a little jog in the countryside. There was a lovely forested path not too far from our Air B&B, and I went out jogging in the forest a number of afternoons. Most of you will know by now that I have a tendency to leak a little while running, and this is particularly the case when doing impact training or running on very uneven ground. To avoid this I have a black quick dry running skort and always use the bathroom before I jog. If I’m in a gym (which isn’t too often), I’ll slip a pad into my panties as well. On this particular jog, I decided I would forgo all these precautions, and have a little wetting fun. So I pulled on one of my favorite pairs of panties, my pink Ariel Little Mermaid panties, and put a regular white short pleated skirt overtop of them. On top I was wearing a regular sports bra and tank top. When I left the Air B&B, my bladder was at about a 6 and was feeling pretty full. I almost had that sloshy feeling you get when working out with a full bladder. I knew that my pink panties were not going to stay dry for long. This was my first time exploring the path, so I wasn’t sure how busy it was going to be. It turned out that on this day, I only passed a couple of people, most of them teens who were mountain biking and an elderly couple who was dog walking. The path system had lots of paths and branches and I looked out for landmarks to avoid getting lost. This was a small UK forest but I didn’t feel like getting too turned around. Anyhow, I started jogging down the street and turned into the trailhead. I jogged for a little ways before I went down the first little gully and felt spurts of pee escaping into my panties with every impactful strive. By the time I reached the bottom, I felt as though my panties were thoroughly sodden. I got to enjoy the sensuous feeling of warm wet fabric quickly cooling against your most intimate parts. I look around and down at my legs. I was still alone in the forest at this point, and there was only a little tear-drop trickle of pee running down my thigh. I brushed this aside, and continued jogging. The pressure from the running was dramatically increasing my need to pee, and I was starting to feel uncomfortable. At this point, going up a small incline, I was overtaken by a couple of mountain-biking teens. I had that quick thrill one gets when it is possible that a stranger glimpsed up one’s skirt (given the incline of the hill, my running motion, the shortness of my skirt and the angle of approach of the cyclists). My already quick heart rate increased just a little. At first this was only on account of their possibly seeing my panties, but it only took me another second to realize that those panties were noticeably wet. Rational Rachel calculated that they teens were probably concentrating on going up the hill, but also that they were teen boys and I know how their minds work. I continued on, winding my way through the beautiful forest. Enjoying the feeling of running; not quite enjoying the full feeling of my bladder or the damp rubbing of my wet panties. After a short while, I approached another steep downward section of the path, I paused at the top, evaluating my bladder’s situation. It was sitting at an uncomfortable 8 and I knew that jogging down this hillock would certainly result in more leaks, regardless of my efforts to ‘bear down.’ So, after a moment’s pause, I pressed on, and instead of bearing down in order to hold back the leaks, I tried to relax. I say tried as it is pretty hard to relax anything while jogging down a steep decline. Now, with each hard step, instead of the usual small spurt, I was releasing serious spurts into my wet panties. I could feel the warm liquid hitting my inner thighs and knees. By the time I reached the bottom of the short hill, I was basically completely releasing my bladder. I stopped, spread my legs so that the pee would not run down my legs and get into my socks and shoes, and continued to wet my panties. I looked down and appreciated the small puddle growing under my on the hard-packed path, and the drizzling sound of the pee hitting the ground. Despite my previous leaks, I peed for about 40 seconds, and while I did so, I kept my head on a swivel in case I was interrupted. My sodden panties continued drip on the ground long after I had finished and finally bore down. After about two minutes of standing there dripping, I heard people approaching, and so I gave my butt a little wiggly shake to dislodge any other droplets, and continued to jog. My panties were not sufficiently dry and I could feel little droplets splashing against my legs as I jogged. I’m not a stranger to jogging in wet panties, but I wanted to have some more fun. After I passed the elderly couple who were walking their dog and would have spotted me standing in my shameful puddle had I not moved, stopped to deal with the ‘situation.’ I then pulled off my panties and inspected the damage. They were pretty soaked. I then used my skirt to dry my legs and girl parts. I now was faced with the dilemma of what to do. I decided to hang my panties up on a tree branch in the sun to dry, and pick them up on my way back. I could just as easily pulled them back on, but I was also excited about the possibility of exhibitionistically leaving them out to dry. The odd passer-by would know that someone had shamefully wet their panties. So I artfully hung them on a branch to dry, and snapped some pictures for you perverts. I ended up flipping them around so that Ariel was visible, she is super cute after all. After appreciating my little wet panty ‘kite’ stuck in a tree, I continued on my jog. I took about a 30 minute look and only had a couple more smaller leaks on steeper sections. On these occasions, with no panties to catch them, the droplets splashed out and hit my legs, skirt and the ground. I felt incredibly naughty jogging without panties, and very much enjoyed the feeling of the wind against my wet girl parts. I eventually looped around and returned to where my panties had been hanging. Or at least the general environs as to where they should have been hanging. They were not there. I ran back along the path for a couple hundred meters in each direction, just to check if I had the correct place, but my panties were nowhere to be found. I even checked my phone, lined up the photos with the same section of the path, and checked the undergrowth around where the panties had been hung. Still no panties. So I suspect one of three possible things occurred: 1) An enterprising squirrel found my skivvies and re-purposed them as a nest. At least any bedwetting baby squirrels will be able to blame stains on the bedding. 2) A helpful and environmentally conscious citizen recovered my underwear and disposed of them properly, I was in a way littering with them, and don’t litter. 3) Or, some perverted someone spotted my drying panties, and took them home with them for some salacious end. Anyhow, I am fortunate because I still have a pair of these back at home, as I bought multiple packs, and I did buy a ton of new panties on my trip. I do have other stories about these panties from earlier in the trip, so stay tuned for these. When I got back to the Air B&B, my husband didn’t even ask why I was not wearing panties. After a quick shower he did get all kinds of laid. Hope you enjoyed! Rach p.s. if you ever want to own a pair of my panties that have been worn and/or wet (like a squirrel or forest pervert), check out my website and get in touch! http://rachelkirwan.wixsite.com/panties
  3. Changed Pad While Jogging This happened to me yesterday, and I’m not going to make it one of my long epic stories, but I thought some of you would appreciate this little kinky adventure I had. So, as many of you will know, I will have the occasional stress-induced leak. These happen when I’m sneezing, laughing, or working out hard, and if I know these things are likely to occur I’ll slip a pad into my panties. So if I’m going to a comedy club, or its allergy season, or I’m helping a friend move boxes, or I’m running stairs, I’ll wear a pad, and it’s usually called on to do it job. Yesterday, I wasn’t planning a long or rigorous run, it had been another grind of a day, sitting working at my desk (I wore a huge diaper and soaked it over the course of 7 hours, more on this another time). So I was clearly in the mood for some kinky activity, but I also needed to get some exercise and leave the apartment. I changed into my black running skort, pulling it on over a pair of gray panties with coloured stars on them (adorable panties I got from the Gap), on top I wore a running bra, and moisture wicking top, and a wind breaker. My bladder felt a little full as I was getting dressed, and normally I would pee before running, as a full or mostly full bladder is much more likely to leak (and more significantly) than an empty bladder. But today I was feeling naughty, so I decided to leave the house with a half-full bladder that was still filling up, knowing that I would likely have to find a spot to pee while out, or leak, or both. As a side note, the running skort is fantastic for covering up leaks. It is a little quick dry skirt with built in shorts of the same material (hence the portmanteau). It dries quickly and also the black material hides wet spots, and the skirt portion hides damp crotches even more. So it’s the perfect accessory for leaky runners. Before running out the door, I decided to slip a pad into my panties, just in case I lost my kinky urge while running and for some additional fun. I headed out, music blaring and headed for one of the larger natural parks near us. I jogged for a little while, and then reached one of the hills the must be navigated before reaching the park. As I went down the hill, the concussion of my feet on the pavement jarred my quite full bladder and I could feel a number of small spurts escape. I’m quite used to this, running fast downhill does cause me to leak, and I just kept going, confident in both the pad and skort combo. When I stopped at some lights at the bottom of the hill, I could feel the wetness of the pad and a little dampness on my right inner thigh. It seemed as though the leaks had been a little more serious than I had initially thought. I shrugged it off and made my way to the park. When I arrived, my panties felt a little clammy and wet, but I was getting an uncomfortable feeling in my belly. Running with a full bladder isn’t fun, and I had apparently filled up more than I had anticipated. I hit the trail and mulled over my options while I jogged. I wasn’t going to visit a public washroom, as I didn’t have a clear idea where they were located (I could have easily looked this up on my phone…), and also I wasn’t sure if they were open during COVID19 and I wasn’t a big fan of using them. I could hold it, but this would result in more leaks, which was less of a concern than the discomfort I was feeling as the liquid in my bladder jarred with each stride. The decision was made for me when I hit a small decline and continued down with speed. The pressure from my heavy footfalls resulted in additional leaks and I by the time I reached the bottom of the hill I could feel that the inner portion of the short portion of my bottoms was quite wet. The pad had held up valiantly, but was not made for this amount of liquid. Actually, reflecting on the kind of pad I grabbed before leaving the house, it wasn’t made for this kind of liquid either, as I had grabbed a period pad with wings, rather than one for incontinence. I stopped at the bottom of the hill, and bore down to stem the small rivulet that was running down my inner thigh. I wiped this away, drying my hand on the outside of my skort, and decided I needed to pee if I was going to keep running. Heck, I’d have to pee even if I was planning on walking, as the urge became more apparent now that I was standing still. I continued along the path for a little ways, looking for a small side path, the kind that are not the official trail, but which seem to branch off of every trail every now and then. As I was looking, I passed the first person, heading in the opposite direction. We exchanged pleasantries while keeping our distance. Around the next bend I saw the perfect path, one that led into a somewhat thick stand of trees. I was about to take it when I spotted, hidden among the trees, a tent and small camp. Folks without homes have had a rough go with COVID and many are camping out in parks like this one. Not wanting to disturb them, and to have them see me pop a squat, I continued on for a little while until I found a branching path in another direction and nipped off the path. I wandered down the path a little ways until I found decent cover, invisible from the main path, all the while, looking around to see that I was alone. I’m familiar with a little mild exhibitionism, but I wasn’t feeling that today. I found a small space beside a tree, and pulled down my skort. One of the drawbacks of the skort is that unlike a skirt and panties, you can’t just pull down the panties, the whole thing has to come down. I squatted, and held this position, still not peeing. While squatting, I inspected the pad in my panties, currently held between my knees. The pad was soaked and the panties were a little damp as well. Rather than pulling up the panties with an already soaked pad affixed to them, I decided to take the pad out. Removing the pad revealed a moderate sized dry spot. Actually, the pad had done a pretty good job keeping my underwear dry, there were only some wet spots on the inner gusset, and towards the front. I placed the dripping pad on a small stump/branch beside me, and relaxed. The hissing of my pee filled the little grove I was in, and I enjoyed the sound of my pee hitting the leaves on the forest floor. I wiggle dried myself, and then pulled up my panties a skort. Feeling naughty, I snapped a picture of the pad on the stump beside me. As you can see, it was quite wet. To the left of the pad you can also see the wet puddle I made on the forest floor. Here are some better close ups of the pad. Where you can almost make out the droplets. Not wanting to litter, I rolled up the pad and squeezed it out. A considerable amount of pee splashed out onto the ground. I then slipped it into the little pocket at the back of my skort (for tennis balls and other such things). I brushed myself off, and continued on with my jog. The rest of the jog was largely uneventful. Despite a mostly full bladder, I did have a couple of additional small leaks as I was getting closer to home, but nothing serious. I try to push myself if I’ve got a little energy left at the end of a run. I got home just as it was starting to rain and headed into the shower. When I pulled off my skort and inspected myself in the mirror. I had made the following wet spot on the gusset of my panties. The gray fabric shows off wet spots quite spectacularly. It wasn’t too bad, but I could definitely feel the wetness as I ran. I slipped off the panties, stripped, and headed into the shower. I’ll recount my protracted diaper wetting another time. I hope you enjoyed this experience. More to follow. And as always, if you like my work and want to show appreciation, check out my website where you can buy my dirty panties, or just get my a gift: https://rachelkirwan.wixsite.com/panties Rachel
  4. So, as I teased, Thursday night was my works holiday party, and I planned on getting drunk, or as I promised ‘wrecked.’ It’s been a busy few months and I wanted to unwind, also the party featured free wine and other drinks, vouchers for rides home, and after the official party, myself, the hubby, and a bunch of the younger people from work and their partners planned on going out clubbing. All in all, I planned to be less than responsible (especially after leaving the official work function), and in anticipation I left out a pair of Goodnites on the bed, and put down my peepod pad in place. I felt rather naughty leaving these things out on the bed. I wore a cute black skirt, nothing too short so that if I bend over people would see my knickers, but also not too long to be frumpy. Now there was some discussion about shimapan (striped panties), so I pulled on a pair of white with blue stripes (not to be confused with blue with white stripes) panties. Anyhow, I slipped a pad into my panties before leaving, for other reasons, put on some moderately sensible shoes (for dancing and tottering about), grabbed a small purse, changed my husband’s shirt and shoes, and we headed out. I won’t ramble on about the official work party portion of the evening. There were the usual chit chat, and some speeches, and so forth. I mostly kept it together, as in addition to staff we also had a ton of our volunteers out at the event. I did however, partake in a good portion of wine, possibly 5 glasses, maybe less, it was a little hard to say. Anyhow, water and finger food were also consumed with abandon, and the washroom was visited often. Once this part wrapped up, a decent sized group wandered down to the pre-arranged club. It was probably around 11pm at this point, and I was decently tipsy. I really haven’t gone clubbing in a little while, so it was kind of nice, but I was glad we had a bunch of friends and people we knew around. So much dancing occurred and I drank even more, I don’t really know how many but enough to stay a little tottery and certainly goofy. It was your usual club tunes, which means I knew very little of the music, as I’ve not gone clubbing in a while, but that was part of the fun, as most of the songs were new, we just sort of alternated between thrashing about on the dance floor, and leaning up against the wall drinking. I do have pretty clear recollection of one point in the night, which will be of interest to readers. This officers when rigorous dancing was taking place closer to the side of the dancing area. Jumping and dancing were happening and at one point I jumped up with both feet as high as I could go and landed hard with my legs slightly spread apart. Dancing on a mostly full bladder is fine for me, as long as I’m not doing anything too theatrical, and this was just the kind of move that gets me in trouble. As I landed I felt a serious whoosh of liquid escape my body. The pad I was wearing was flooded instantly and in my drunken state it took me a few seconds to bear down and stop the flow. I giggled and looked down. Fortunately, my legs were spread, so all I had done was soak my panties and pad, and leave a small (but noticeable spot) on the dance floor. No one seems to have noticed, and so I took a few steps to the wall, where I leaned to catch my breath and keep giggling. I felt a little goofy and thought I’d snap a picture of my little puddle (inhibitions being lowered), and I got a little carried away and took a bunch of pictures, which ended up looking cool because of the strobe lights. Anyhow, this is the puddle I left on the dance floor. After snapping these pictures, I hurried off to the washroom. The line wasn’t long and I got in a stall, pulled out the soaked pad, pulled off my panties, and squeeze dried them with toilet paper. Now despite my having brought a smaller purse I did have my usual spare pair of panties in a little zip lock bag with a spare backup pad. So I swapped out my panties, stuffing the striped panties into the baggie and pulling the fresh panties back on (after emptying my bladder in the toilet and carefully wiping my girl parts dry). Now my dress is the length where you could get away with going without panties, if you were careful, but I was not really at a stage of sobriety where I was going to be careful, there was a good chance that folks were going to see my knickers. I also should mention that my spare panties were not a dark colour that might have been harder to see in the low light of the club should a girl ‘get low’ or you know, do some other potentially revealing dance move. No, these panties were one of my dinosaur print panties. For some reason, wearing dinosaur print panties at a club felt very naughty. Why naughty you ask? Because if you are going to flash someone your panties ‘accidentally’ what’s more adorable, striped panties, or dino print panties? I’ll let you all decide. But basically, I was wearing a very adult dress and shoes, but had on one of my more adorable girly pairs of panties. I contemplated snapping some pictures of my wet panties and pad in the toilet, but I was tipsy and worried about dropping my phone in the toilet... needless to say I wasn't quite all there at this point. I rejoined the group and danced and drank until the club closed. By the time the lights came up, I was rather tipsy and kind of draped off my husband. Now he had quite a bit to drink as well but kept things together as he knew I was going to get messy. At this stage my recollection of the evening is patchy. Did I mention I’d been drinking? So I do remember a few snippets which are worth recounting. We were just in line to get our coats when my hubby leaned close to my ear and whispered (or sort of whispered, as there were plenty of people around us talking and you would have needed a stage whisper in order to be heard): “I’m going to get our coats. You should visit the washroom before we grab a cab.” I remember blushing furiously and starting to protest, but then checking my bladder and realizing that he was right, and knows me well enough that when I’m drinking like this, I’m very sloppy. Neither of us wanted me to wet a taxi seat, so I scampered off to the washroom to pee. I should add that when he does things like this, like reminding me to use the washroom ‘just in case,’ or to ‘wash my hands,’ or similar things like this, it makes me feel little and protected by a caring Daddy figure, and I love it! Anyhow, I nipped off to the loo and peed. I also pulled out the pad I had on, as it had caught a few additional dance-move related dribbles throughout the rest of the evening. I made it back to the coat check just after he got our coats. We said goodbye to a couple of our friends who had stuck it out, and my hubby ended up chatting with one of them for a little while, before we jumped in a cab (or Uber, I don’t remember). We got home, and made it up to our flat. I’m sure my hubby did a bit of lifting and pulling, as I was slightly uncooperative. Once we got home, the shoes came off, the purse which I miraculously still had found a comfortable spot on the floor, and staggering to the bedroom, I pulled off my dress in one go, and flopped down on the bed. I guess my hubby stayed up a little later, or fell asleep on the coach or something, because the next thing I knew he was shaking my awake. I was still pretty groggy, but apparently I had peed the bed wearing my dino panties and bra. I had more or less positioned myself onto the peepod pad, so the clean up was rather easy. I think I reprimanded my hubby for not properly changing my into ‘my nighttime panties’ and was more or less unhelpful as he pulled off the peepod pad, used a corner of it to more or less wipe my girl parts, and properly prepare me for bed. It must have been about 4 am or something (my hubby later confirmed that it was only like 3 am and I’d only been in bed for like an hour). Anyhow, he helped me into the Goodnites, which were still laying on the bed, and helped me get off my bra. The wet pad and panties were more or less folded up and flopped onto the floor. In order to stave off a hangover, we both had a glass of water. I knew it would likely end up mostly in the bed, but I am not a fan of hangovers. I remember putting up a fuss about not being ready for bed, and worried about wetting the bed again, so while I put on some PJ bottoms, my hubby located one of our Goodnite bed pads, stuck it down on the sheets, and put me to bed. This time he joined me and we were both out like a light. ----- The next morning I woke up to the feeling of wet cold cloth against my skin. It wasn’t too late, my phone said like 11 am, and normally given how late we had been up, I would have had a lay in, but I was wet. VERY wet. I felt around underneath me and between my legs and I felt a very wet and swollen Goodnite, along with wet PJ bottoms, and even a considerable wet spot on the bed pad. My hubby was groggily mumbling next to me, so I dragged myself out of bed, stripped off the wet PJ bottoms, and padded into the washroom wearing a very swollen diaper. I took my all-too-common post-bedwetting shower, and then, because I was mostly awake at this point, I went about making breakfast. After a while, my hubby joined me and filled me in on some of the events of the evening (used to complete the above story). He also lightly teased me about wetting the bed twice in one night; Something about knowing he had a wife who wet the bed, but just not that much. And also ‘for a little girl, I certainly peed a lot.’ This had the effect of both embarrassing and turning me on. I thanked him for taking good care of me the previous night, and promised sexy times later in the day, once we were both a little less hung over (the water had not really helped). While tidying up, I thought I’d snap a picture of both bedwetting incidents for posterity (and you perverts). So here is the aftermath of the first wetting; my peepod pad and wet dino panties (the wet striped panties were still in the baggie in my purse). As you can see, the pad did a good job of catching this initial accident. The pad and panties were cold to the touch, and smelled only faintly of pee. I then artfully arranged the Goodnite, wet PJs, on top of the wet bed pad, and snapped some more pics. I can’t believe I peed that much, usually, a Goodnite can hold one full Rachel bladder, so given the size of the puddle on the bed pad and the dampness of my PJ bottoms, I must have wet twice wearing these things. So I’ve left the title a little vague… Anyhow, here are the shots of the Goodnite in the bathroom on its own, so you can see how wet it got. Anyhow, that was my rowdy messy night. I hope you enjoyed it. Rachel
  5. I found this experience lurking in a puddle in my hard drive, I seem to have forgotten to post it a while back, so this happened, just a considerable time ago. And so with that introductions… As many of you know I had a bad flu a while back and it led me to take a bunch of days off work. I was sneezing a lot and as a result, leaking a lot. I took to wearing Goodnites around the house and in bed while I recovered. However when I when I went back to work, to face a huge backlog of emails among other things, I decided to just wear pads. If I don’t wait to the last minute, and have a full bladder, a big sneeze usually just causes a little leak on my part; the kind of leak that is easily captured by any of the regular UI pads out there, and even just plain old regular period pads. So I slipped a couple of extra period pads into my purse and stuck one into my blue cotton panties and headed to work after a rather rough morning. I slipped on a professional looking black pencil skirt, ankle socks, flats, and a ‘nothing special’ light purple blouse, with a blazer over top. I wanted to look professional even it I still felt pretty bad. For those who are keeping track and this will be relevant later on, I had one pad in my panties, and the addition of two spares along with my regular pad I always carry around, meant that I had three in my purse. Four pads, should be enough to get a girl through the day, right? I had needed two mugs of strong tea to get myself going in the morning and despite using a the loo before leaving my flat, I was full and a solid 7 on the desperation scale by the time I stepped off the Skytrain on the final leg of my way to work. Walking out of the station, I turned up the road and stopped dead in my tracks. The sea of commuters coming and going broke around me like a river around a stone. I scarcely had time to cover my mouth, squeeze my legs together, and bear down when a huge set of three sneezes rocked through my sinuses. My efforts to stop a leak were in vain and several large squirts of pee flooded my pad. My face was already red from the sneezes but stayed that way as I composed myself and headed up the street to work. Of course no one could have known that I had soaked myself while sneezing in the middle of a crowded street, though I’m sure some of the female commuters might have suspected. I made a beeline for the loo once I arrived at work and promptly changed my pad. My panties were fortunately dry and I had an ample supply of pads. I also peed and then headed back in to greet my team and work through the daunting wall of emails that had piled up in my absence. After about an hour of solid emails I got up and headed into the kitchen to get some more tea as I was still feeling stuffy. I chatted with co-workers and volunteers and then went back to my email hell. It was about 10:00 am. I was concentrating on a rather tricky email around 10:30 am when without warning my sinuses let forth a torrent of sneezes. Sometimes you get that tickling in your nose when a sneeze is about to happen, or that big build up somewhere in your head. Well, this wasn’t one of those times. I just exploded without warning, spraying my computer screen and keyboard and the pad stuck inside my panties with hot droplets! I finished the email, which took another 15 minutes, before scampering to the washroom to swap out my pad. I’m used to this, when I was younger and had more regular leaking issues I’d often go for longer durations between changes, even if my pad was wet, or even when it was very wet and threatening to leak. A teenage Rachel wasn’t one to draw attention to herself by asking to use the washroom 15 minutes after having returned from a visit. I wasn’t that my teachers all didn’t know to let me use the loo when I had to, but I didn’t want my peers to notice my overly frequent bathroom visits. So I’m used to sitting in a damp pad and staying on task. I grabbed my purse, and headed to the washroom, stopping by the kitchen to put the kettle on, on my way. Because it seemed like it was going to be one of those days, I slipped my panties off and snapped a picture of my second leak of the day: As you can see, the pad did a pretty good job keeping my underwear good and dry. Except for a tiny part of the inside gusset which caught a drop or two. The kettle was boiled by the time I got back to the kitchen and I made myself a mug of tea and headed back to my desk. I worked for another solid hour, and well into the lunch break powering through messages like a pro. My tea mug was drained by noon. It was my bladder that got me up, that and you know, the need for lunch. I joined my colleagues and volunteers around 12:30 and we caught up and bantered for a while. But not after visiting the loo to pee. My pad was dry and I was feeling a little jittery from the caffeine and a little stuffy from the flu. I slipped off my panties all the same for another shot, resolved to share my leaky day with all you perverts. Here’s my pad and panties, dry… for now. Mid-way through lunch, around 1:00, I was just standing up by the sink filling the kettle for yet another mug of tea, when I felt a sneeze coming on. This one had the courtesy(?) to give me some warning, and so I tightly crossed my legs, bore down with my PC muscles, and covered my face with my arm. It was only one sneeze and one small leak that followed. My counter-measures seemed to have worked. I carried on as though nothing had happened and finished my lunch. I did visit the washroom before heading back to work though, and thought I should swap out pads, given that this one was damp. It probably could have taken several more leaks, and had I known I would not have changed, but I aired on the side of keeping my things dry and stuck a fresh pad into my panties. I made a mug of herbal tea, knowing how caffeine (and green tea) work on my bladder. I was back at my desk at 1:30. Ear buds in, fingers flying, working as hard as I could. You know when you get in the mode and nothing can distract you? I sipped tea, blew my nose when it ran, covered my face when I sneezed, and pressed on. Over the course of the next hour I must have sneezed three or four times, each of which was accompanied by a tiny leak. I tried to power through, not wanting to keep having to pop up and use the loo. By about 2:30 I took a mental break and played some Candy Crush on my phone. I was tired and feeling a little stuffy. I also felt wet. I could feel the wetness of the pad against my body and I knew that I would need to change it very soon, or risk getting my panties and skirt wet, if they were not wet already. I was also in need of the loo, given the rigorous course of tea I was following. I got up, grabbed my purse and headed to the washroom. I pulled down my panties, slipped them off and took another few shorts for you all. Looking at the pictures, I can’t really tell that the pad was wet, maybe my leaks were smaller than I thought. I pulled out my last pad (the backup pad I try to always carry) and affixed it to my panties. I wasn’t too worried. It was about 2:45, and I reckoned this pad could last me the rest of the day if I took more regular bathroom breaks. Was I worried? I was too busy with work to worry too much and dove back into my many tasks. The tea was really working its way through my system, and I definitely had drunk too much over the course of the day, because at 3:15, when I had scarcely at down at my desk, I felt like I was about a 7 on the scale. I hadn’t really noticed the other stages, such was my work frenzy. The nagging worry about the pad situation propelled me to get up and head to the washroom promptly. Empty handed, I wandered down the hall where I greeted a couple co-workers and volunteers, chatting briefly with one, before I ducked into the washroom. Just as I entered my body started giving me signals that it was ready to sneeze. Now? I was so close to the toilet! But no, my sinuses were not going to let me get my underwear down, and so I froze just inside the doorway of the washroom, and because I was alone in there, squeezed my legs together and shoved my hand between my legs. It didn’t help much and this small sneezing fit was accompanied with a series of significant leaks. I hurried into a stall and had my skirt hiked up and panties down lightening fast. I changed out the pad while I peed furiously into the toilet. I didn’t bring my purse or phone with my on this trip so I wasn’t able to snap any pictures. Not that it mattered, my purse was devoid of pads. I also had to dry myself, wash my hands, and walk back to my desk where I rummaged around my purse frantically for change for the pad machine in the washroom. I found a lone loonie (I mean who uses cash anymore, right?), and went back to the washroom to buy one of the generic periods pads from the machine. I blushed a little walking back, in case any of the other people in the office were keeping track of my bathroom visits. Of course they weren’t, but I couldn’t stop myself from thinking this. I stuck the generic pad into my panties, and went back to my desk. My bladder was full within 30 minutes and I hopped up again and hurried off to the washroom. This time, despite my best efforts, I ended up standing and talking to one of our volunteers for a good 10 minutes. It was getting close to 4:00pm at this point. I could not end the conversation any quicker and so I bore down, crossed my legs, and worked through the issue with the volunteer. A minute into the conversation I sneezed once. Countermeasures held and there was only a small leak. We continued on until maybe 8 minutes into the conversation, where a couple of sneezes cropped up. Because I was face to face with another human, my priority was covering my mouth and turning away, and I dropped my counter measures. Or rather, I just didn’t concentrate as hard as I have to in order to forestall a serious leak. I flooded the generic machine pad with a powerful squirt of pee, and felt it wet against my nether lips. I’ve used these pads before (when in a similar pinch) and while they might absorb a decent amount, they don’t do it quickly, and sometimes pee will just flood out the sides before the material can absorb the liquid. I had no way of knowing how bad the leak was, but I didn’t feel anything on my inner thighs or hear a dripping, so I suppose that was good. I wrapped up the conversation as quickly as I could and scampered to the washroom to inspect the damage and for a much needed pee. As you can see, the pad did an ok job of protecting against my leak: I now had a dilemma. While I had my purse and phone with my, I did not have another loonie. I also desperately needed another pad. This was not one of those ‘it will be ok scenarios.’ It was 4pm, I had at least an hour to go at work, and I had leaked numerous times during the day. A wad of toilet paper was not going to cut it either. I worked through my options and balanced asking a colleague for a dollar, or asking one for a pad. Both were not really my style. I was definitely too embarrassed to ask one of my many female office mates to borrow a pad. I could try to raid the petty cash in the kitchen? I headed over into the kitchen and looked for the petty cash box. Unfortunately on the way there I got sidetracked by a volunteer who had an issue and I needed to hurry over to his work station to deal with it right away. It was a challenging issue and I ended up standing there helping him solve it for more than 30 minutes. Mid-way through the conversation I excused myself and turned to politely sneeze into my elbow, and I felt the associated leak down below. I was almost comforted by the fact that I was wearing a pad for a moment, before I realized that I was not in fact wearing protection, and they my panties were most definitely wet. I pressed on with the conversation, acutely aware of my wet underwear. By the time we had wrapped up it was about 4:40 pm and I made a beeline for the petty cash. I extracted some change and headed back to the washroom. To my consternation, when I inserted the coin in the machine and turned the little lever I got nothing. Either the machine ate my money or was out of pads, either way, I was out of luck. I thought I could try the washroom on another floor, so I went back to the petty cash and grabbed some more change, and then scurried out of the loo and headed to the washroom downstairs. I couldn’t remember is this washroom had a pad/tampon machine and a quick scan revealed that it did. I worked the machine and got a random pad in a little box. Clutching this in my hand I hopped into a stall, pulled down my wet panties, and inspected them while making an effort to empty my bladder. I took a couple of artful images of my wet panties in the stall. It looks as though someone before me didn’t quite make it. These leaks are not mine, but someone either hovered and shook off and dribbled on the floor, or didn’t quite reach the loo in time… My initial photo shoot with my blue panties had taken a little longer than I has anticipated, and I needed to get back to my desk to wrap up a couple of emails before heading home for the day. So I rummaged through my purse and found the little baggie with my backup panties in it. I quickly slipped on the magenta panties I found there and stuffed my blue panties into the baggie unceremoniously. I then unboxed the pad, stuck it into my panties, pulled them up and scampered back upstairs to my desk. The lesson here was always have spare panties on hand if you are prone to leaks. Anyhow, I hurried through the last emails of the day and left work only about 15 minutes late. I was still feeling stuffy but I was also feeling a little naughty and I decided not to visit the washroom before braving public transit. I decided I was going to just let any accident that happened during my trip home happen, and that I’d have some fund when I got home. I did have a couple additional sneezes while on the SkyTrain and walking the last leg of my commute, all of which resulted in additional leaks. Because there were people around, on these occasions I was carefully to take all the appropriate countermeasures (bearing down, leg crossing), and the leaks were small. In the elevator up to my flat, I sensed a sneeze coming and this time I did nothing and just relaxed. The resulting squirt of hot pee flooded my pad and suffused my girl parts in warm wetness. I was, fortunately, alone on the elevator. I felt warm wetness rubbing against my intimate parts as I walked to my flat. I had the place to myself for another hour, as my hubby was also getting home late this day. So stripped down to my panties at the front door and I wandered into the washroom. I extracted my blue panties from their baggie, and snapped a couple more pictures. There’s something very sensual about walking about naked but for a pair of panties and a soaked pad. It’s like walking around the house in nothing but a wet Goodnite. Squatting down to take these pictures was exquisite, as I could feel the wet pad I was wearing rubbing against my nether lips. I relished the warm squish of the wet pad as I snapped these. I then slipped off the magenta emergency panties and took one last picture of them. I would have taken more but I was tingling between my legs and as I was already naked, I jumped into the shower and brought myself to a delightfully wet orgasm while I made sure I was clean ‘down there’ after all of those leaks! Then I changed into a Goodnite and comfortable pyjamas and went about fixing myself some soup. Happy holidays everyone! Rachel
  6. Well it’s flu season, and sure enough, I caught a nasty flu after pushing myself too hard in a week of manic work. I think that our office had a sort of positive feedback loop of flu, where we lost a couple of key volunteers and then the rest of us wore down our immune systems trying to cover for them. Anyhow, I’ve been at home from work for the past week, and am finally roused enough to spend some time writing on the computer. I’m still feeling poorly, so I’m not going to do one of my traditional 8 page epics. Anyhow, I picked up the flu from a co-worker, but decided to foolishly power through in order to fill a gap left in our volunteer base. I went to work more than a week ago, with a sniffle, wearing my favorite pink Little Mermaid panties, and jeans. I made sure to drink lots of tea, to save my throat, and as a result, I was quite literally jumping up to use the washroom at least once an hour. Tea goes right through me, and I’ve not had the most reliable bladder these days. The coughing put me at risk of serious leaks, as lately I’ve been having more stress-related leaks. I took precautions and slipped an incontinence pad into my panties before leaving home and brought 4 extras in my purse, along with the usual change of emergency panties in a plastic bag. The morning progressed normally, though it was a little hectic given that we were short handed. I had a minor coughing fit at about 10:30 am, which resulted in a little leak (or rather three timed perfectly with three big coughs), which precipitated my first pad change of the day a short while later. I was up to go to the washroom so often that a couple of co-workers commented at lunch. I explained that I was drinking a lot of tea in order to fend off the flu, and I got to see them do that not-so subtle shimmy away, in a subconscious move to avoid my plagued self. This semi-isolation due to subconscious germophobia was nice. I got to enjoy a nice hearty soup, prepared the night before by my hubby, and catch up on personal e-mails over my lunch break. After lunch, I made another dash for the loo, before getting tied up in more than an hour and a half of meetings. I finished off another mug of tea during this time, and I was wiggling by the end of the last meeting. A couple of coughs here and there had resulted in little leaks, but these were all comfortably caught by the pad. I hurriedly made my way to the loo at the end of the last meeting. Just in case, because it’s uncomfortable and smelly to sit there in even a slightly damp pad, and because a girl should not pass up a good opportunity to change a pad should the need exist, I swapped in my third pad for the day. After this, I was forced to step in to cover 2 hours of a shift of one of my volunteers, for reasons not worth getting into. At this point, I was on another mug of tea, this time decaf as I was getting a little jittery. I should not have been drinking tea at this point, given my bladder and flu situation, but I put the needs to keeping my voice alive over other concerns. Sitting at my desk, I got caught up in the work, and scarcely noticed that over an hour had passed. It was again my bladder that brought my attention back to the time and reality. It gave me a friendly reminder that it was sitting at a comfortable 6 with the last sip of my herbal tea. Unfortunately, I was not able to get up to use the washroom right away, I was in the middle of something, and it was one of those things where you can’t simply get up and go. I ignored my bladder for the next 20 minutes, and wrapped up what I was doing. It had crawled its way to a 7.5 by the time I was done, and just as I was getting ready to get up and hurry off to the loo when I was struck with the urge to cough. Sniffle, sniffle... I had a split second and no more before I convulsed into coughing. In this time instinctively pressed my legs together, to stymie possible leaks. And then cough! Followed by at least 6 others. Big, full body phlegm-filled coughs. Almost immediately after the first cough I felt a little leak, and the leaks continued after each cough, turning from little squirts to large gushes of pee. I was too caught up in the coughing to do much about the leaks, other than bear down as best I could. After I stopped coughing, I blew my nose, cleared my throat, and looked down. Only the hint of a wet spot was visible between my tightly clenched thighs, but I could feel significantly more damage further below. I was in a relatively secluded corner of the office. The office has a relatively open plan, but because we all need privacy and quiet it has those shoulder height cubicle things between the desks. The office has a number of these, half of which are typically filled with staff or volunteers, but owing to the recent spate of flu victims, there were only three of four other people in the office. Given this, I had relative privacy in my cubicle, especially as I was sitting down, but at some point I would have to get up. I checked behind me, as the only line of sight from which I’m visible is the entrance to my little cubicle. No one was around. I hastily stood up and turned, so that I was facing my cubicle entrance and so that the chair was between me and it, just in case anyone happened by. I looked at the chair. It’s one of those generic ‘pleather’ cheap office chairs. It had a sizable wet spot on it, and my standing up had directed a couple of droplets onto the carpet (the hard industrial weave carpet tile stuff). Or perhaps the pee had run down off the chair onto the floor while I leaked. I wasn’t not sure how serious the accident had been at this point. I felt behind me and it seemed as though most of the damage had been done to my jeans. I felt a sizable wet spot all over my bum. Now I’ve been in this position before, so I didn’t panic. I did move quickly, as my bladder was still perilously full. The leaks had done nothing to release the pressure and in fact had exacerbated my urge to pee. I was now getting those ‘bathroom NOW!’ messages from my bladder. My heart rate increased, and looked quickly around for cardigan. I crossed my legs asI retrieved it, and deftly wrapped it around my waste. All efficiency, when I bent down to pick up my purse, I checked how far down the wet spot went down the back of my legs. It went further than my bum, and so I re-adjusted my cardigan, making it a ‘low-rider’ to cover more area. I then popped my head around the office, scouting for colleagues. Fortunately they all seemed to be occupied or out of the office. I took the long way around to the washrooms. Though my bladder disagreed with the approach, it minimized the number of possible full cubicles I might pass. I held my rather ample purse in front to cover the significantly less visible wet spot as seen from my front. After a tortuous spy-like journey, I arrived at the ladies room. I hurried into a stall, choosing the handicapped one, and yanked my bottoms down, and peed. While I peed, which seemed like a long time, I took the time to inspect the damage. The pad in my panties was absolutely soaked, but seemed to have directed the majority of the wetness down to my bum. I removed it, wrapped it in toilet paper, and tossed it in the little garbage. The sides of the gusset of my panties were wet and there was a huge wet spot across the bum of the panties, almost up to the mermaid (for those who are familiar with these panties). The bum of my jeans was also soaked and the wet spot extended across the entire bum, and down the back of my legs to the mid-way point. The pee must have hit the pleather material of the chair and run down the backs of my legs. This explained the wet spot on the floor. My heart was still pounding and my brain went into planning mode. I still needed to be at work for the next three hours. I did have a change of panties and a fresh pad in my purse, which I had brought with me, but I did not have a change of pants. I was not wearing the kind of shirt that could double as a short skirt, and plus people would notice. I could not call my hubby for an emergency drop off, as he was at work on the other side of the city. I could not really run out and purchase a new pair of pants mid-way through the work day (thought I did consider doing something like this for my commute home if I had to). The office does not have a ‘lost and found’ which I could raid, nor am I close enough with any co-workers or volunteers to ask them if they had a change of clothes (nor do I have the courage to do this). I opted for the classic ‘cover-up’ approach. Still sitting on the toilet, I removed my shoes and pulled off my pants and panties. I then carefully dried myself, patting down my bum and inner thighs which were rather wet. Sitting there with nothing on my bottoms, I pressed wads of toilet paper into my panties, in order to dry them a little. I then balled them up, and stuck them in the plastic bag in my purse, but only after removing the spare pair of panties contained within. I slipped these on, and stuck my remaining pad into them, being careful to position it more towards the front, as before. I then repeated the same process of padding my jeans with wadded up toilet paper from the inside. For those who have ever needed to do this, you will know that the toilet paper leaves lots of paper lint all over your jeans. So what I really needed was paper towel. I listened carefully to check if the washroom was empty, and finding that it was, I quickly put on my shots and in shoes, socks, and pink cotton panties stuffed with an incontinence pad on the bottom, I made a dash for the paper towel dispenser and grabbed a huge wad. I hurried back into the stall where I proceeded to pat dry my wet jeans for a good 15 minutes. It made little difference to the visibility of the wet spot, but it did make them less cold and clammy, which would be important as I was going to have to sit in these wet pants for the next three hours of work, plus during my commute home (unless I did something). Because I was planning on sitting for the next three hours, as much as I could, I paid attention to the seams down the bum of the jeans, as these absorb more than other parts. After I had done the best I could, and worried that I would be missed, I finally pulled my jeans back on. They felt cold and clammy, as only post-pants wetting jeans can feel like. I had almost forgotten, but I snapped a few (bad) pictures of my bum so you can see the extent of the accident. I’m sorry I didn’t take more, but I had already spent enough time in the loo and needed to get back to work. The second shot shows some of the impact of my efforts to dry my jeans. On the floor around me was a large pile of damp paper towel (I had made multiple flushes to dispose of the toilet paper). I made two trips to the larger garbage by the door and then got even more paper towel and returned to the stall. Back in the stall once more, the bathroom door opened and someone came in. I breathed a sigh of relief as I had just cleared away the strange pile of paper towel only moments earlier. While this person peed, I made two large wads of the paper towel, folding it into large thick pads. The first of which I fitting into the bum of my jeans, to keep the damp fabric and my dry clean panties separate. This would also use the pressure of my bum to help dry the jeans out. The second wad was to sit on, to keep my office chair from getting more wet and to also help dry my jeans from the outside. Yes, I’ve done this before, a number of times. The most memorable was when I had an accident on a long car trip with my family, where the protection I was wearing leaked and left my pants and the car seat wet. A story for another day. The other bathroom occupant flushed and left by the time I had finished adjusting the paper towel inside my jeans, and so I flushed for a final time, tied my cardigan around my waist, straightened myself out, and left the stall. After washing my hands, I grabbed still more paper towel to clean off my chair, and stuff this and the larger pad I had folded, into my purse. I walked confidently out of the washroom (as confidently as I could still clutching my purse in front of me to cover the now less than visible front stain), and took the circumspect but more private route back to my cubicle. Back in my cubicle I hastily dried off my chair (which still had noticeable wetness on it), with some of the paper towel and then quickly put down the pad I had constructed and sat down. I used my feet to rub a little more paper towel on the wet spot on the floor, although I quickly gave up as our carpets are heinous and one little wet stain was really not going to make much of a difference. I then spent the next hour avoiding any more tea and working as hard as I could, despite the distraction of the cold wet fabric of my jeans on my thighs. It was distracting and not just in a way relating to discomfort. My heart gave a little flutter as I realized that I had got away with the cover up so far, and a feeling of naughtiness was creeping in, helped on by my still high heart rate. After an hour, while the urge to pee was minimal (a 2 or 3) I scrunched up my courage and made a careful trip back to the washroom. When I stood up, there was a cute butt-shaped wet spot on the paper towel I had been sitting on. I was careful to bin this before I left for the loo. There was someone in the washroom when I went in, so I quickly hurried into the stall. In the stall, I pulled down my pants and pulled out the wet paper towel pad that was there, it was wet and shaped somewhat to the form of my bum. I balled this up and put it in the little stall garbage. I made a large pad out of toilet paper while I sat and peed a little. I put the toilet paper wad back into my jeans and left the cubicle only after the other occupant had left. After washing my hands, I got even more paper towel and made another pad of it. I noticed that my jeans looked considerably dryer in the bathroom, which meant that my regime was sort of working? I spend the next 2 hours at my desk working, and most of my colleagues left by the time I was finished. Before heading out, I made one more visit to the washroom to remove the toilet paper (which took considerably longer than the paper towel as it had fallen apart, requiring me to hunt down little blobs of damp paper all over the inside of my damp jeans. The jeans were considerably dryer, though there was still a distinct and to me visible mark where the wet spot had been all over my bum. I decided that since my route was direct, and my jacket long, I would forgo purchasing something to wear home, and instead just commute home in my almost dry-but-stained jeans. This gave me a little exhibitionistic thrill, though not enough of one to forgo the concealing cardigan and longer jacket. I no longer held my purse over my crotch like a teenage boy with an erection, as the stain was impossible for everyone but me to see, especially if I sat with a ‘penny between my knees.’ I didn’t have any incidents on the way home, though I did use my hand to hold the cardigan in place when I took the steep stairs at the SkyTrain, like what you do in a short skirt to keep people from seeing your panties. By the time I got home I felt like the jeans were only a little damp. I kind of forgot to take pictures of the other stages of my adventure. I think because I was feeling crappy but also not a little aroused from the whole experience. I hope you enjoyed it. This made me realize that I’ve not done a lot of intentional wetting ‘adventures’ lately and that I should, so as soon as I’m feeling better I’m going to get up to a little ‘spring mischief.’ Hope you enjoyed, Rach p.s. while I laundered the panties, they are still for sale just in case you are interested.
  7. Found myself wondering where on the spectrum of wetting people fall. I myself have come to identify as an incontinence fetishist, so basically everything except pure desperation in which they make it to the bathroom is fun times for me. Would love to hear other people's thoughts on why particular kinds of wetting are hot, or why not, for that matter!
  8. 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.
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