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Found 5 results

  1. I'm glad I put down my PeePod bed pad last night. I had a rather messy Friday night after a very, very long week, and well this was the state of my side of the bed this morning. I've been a little while since I've had a bed wetting incident, I'll chalk this one up to too much wine and a little bit of marijuana. Morning shower of shame. Rachel
  2. View File JAV-OJHI-96 - Assorted Skirt Wettings Frantic Japanese women in skirts arrive at a guys house, desperate to pee, hand pressed firmly between their legs. They all have spectacular accidents, viewed from multiple angles. All of them have their hands pressed firmly between their legs and end up with big wet spots on the fronts of their skirts. Classic mistake. The lesson her is if you are going to have an accident in front of a stranger while wearing a skirt, just spread your legs and let it run down them, no one will notice after ? Enjoy Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 09/06/2018 Category Female videos Clothing  
  3. Version 1.0.0

    5,526 downloads

    Frantic Japanese women in skirts arrive at a guys house, desperate to pee, hand pressed firmly between their legs. They all have spectacular accidents, viewed from multiple angles. All of them have their hands pressed firmly between their legs and end up with big wet spots on the fronts of their skirts. Classic mistake. The lesson her is if you are going to have an accident in front of a stranger while wearing a skirt, just spread your legs and let it run down them, no one will notice after ? Enjoy Rach

    Free

  4. 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.
  5. hoimi

    female Small wet spots

    The pictures look like an album cover. ^_^