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View File Recent Twitter and Tumblr Wetting and Diaper Clips I've been collecting these and noticed a bunch of people were posting 'recent' discoveries in the video section, so here are mine. See images for exact video content. Some of these are super short from Twitter and Tumblr, some are longer. Enjoy, Rach Submitter rachelkirwan Submitted 07/15/2018 Category Female videos Clothing  

Hey guys, newbie here. I've never put myself out here before like this, ever. But the people here seem welcoming and have helped me understand a lot over my years of being a lurker here, so here goes nothing. So I was in the mood for a hold since I haven't had the chance due to being busy with work and school, this is the result after a few hours. Nothing spectacular, but it felt amazing to slowly just let go after a few weeks of being busy. Password is dp2001. It's untitled and untagged cause I'll be mortified if someone I know somehow finds this, I'm weird enough as is. Having to explain this video to a friend of mine isn't exactly in my priorities 😛 Anyways, that's all I got for now. If someone gets a kick out of this, that's honestly amazing. I know I've enjoyed many people's contributions around here, so here's to throwing a little bit more male content out there for those who want it. Take care 🤘

its been a while since ive posted I know but thought id bring you this. its my favourite video of all time. was removed from the only site it was on years ago and found it today buried in the back of my folders !!!ENJOY!!! tights.m4v

"I think you should just pee your pants." I was pretty sure I couldn't possibly have heard her right. I said as much. "If you really need to go so badly you should probably just pee your pants." Camille reiterated. Fair enough. I had been complaining about needing to pee since the two of us had left the uni bar to walk back to my girlfriend's house. It must be getting on her nerves. But I did really need to pee! "Sorry. I'll stop complaining." I might have been a little snarky at her lack of sympathy. A full bladder doesn't correlate with a good mood. She stopped walking and looked me in the eye. "No dude. I'm serious. There isn't anywhere decent to pee till you get to my place. It's all houses, traffic, and no cover. If you are busting you should just pee in your pants. They're dark, it probably won't show." I didn't quite know what to say, "Um... I can hang on. I was just complaining 'cause it's really uncomfortable." She narrowed her eyes at me, "Right. So pee your pants. It's not a big deal. Better than being "really uncomfortable". I wet my pants all the time if I need to." I had been dating Camille for three or four months and I had never once seen her pee herself. And anyway, people don't pee their pants out of convenience. Maybe it's because she's French? Do French girls pee themselves a lot? Not likely. I decided she was pulling my leg. "No you don't!" "Sure I do. I just don't make a big deal about it. Remember when when we went to see Nine Months play in the Gardens last month? Did you see me drinking beer? Did you see me use the portapotties?" Honestly I hadn't thought about it. I guess if I had I would have just assumed she had a big bladder. It certainly didn't cross my mind that she'd been peeing herself. "Seriously?" "Yeah." She was vehement, "Portapotties are really gross." "So is peeing your pants though." "Not really. Urine is pretty much sterile." She said casually. "Hey. Tell you what, since I can see you are resistant, if I wet myself first then will you pee your pants?" "Sure Camille." I absolutely didn't think she'd do it. Remember I was still pretty sure she was just fucking with me and I was calling her bluff. Nope. The next thing I knew Camille was standing in a puddle. My beautiful twenty-year-old girlfriend just pissed herself in broad twilight all over a public footpath next to a moderately busy road. Not that anyone else would have noticed. Her ankle length skirt hid everything except her suddenly wet sandals and a decent sized pool of pee. "You just wet yourself!" I was in shock. She looked at me like I was stupid, "Yeah? Did you not think I was going to do the exact thing I said I was going to do? Your turn now." "I though you were kidding!" "You thought wrong." She winked at me. "Now pee. A promise is a promise." She was right. I had, unintentionally, made a promise. She wouldn't be pleased if I backed out... "I'm not sure I can. I've never peed myself on purpose before." Everything was moving pretty quickly at this point. How had I agreed to this? "It's not so hard. Not if you are desperate. Just relax, let it come, imagine you are using a toilet." I must have been desperate, and maybe a little drunk, because it really wasn't hard. One second my pants were dry, and the next a solid stream of pee was pouring down my left leg. I was surprisingly warm, and not really gross at all. For a moment I felt good about my decision and that Camille might have been on to something with her whole "pants wetting for convenience" philosophy. But then... "Camille! You said it wouldn't show!" I looked down at my pants in horror. She tried and failed to smother a laugh, "I was super wrong. I really thought it wouldn't! I'm so sorry." She didn't sound sorry. My dark blue jeans were nearly black where my pee had soaked into them. Somehow the contrast made the dry parts look lighter than usual. It was pretty noticeable. Camille found my horror hilarious. Through giggles she promised her housemate was out for the evening so we should just hurry back to her place and take a nice shower together. "I promise I'll make it up to you." she said in a voice that told me how exactly how she would make it up to me. I felt myself growing hard and decided that if Camille was involved maybe deliberate pants wetting might be something worth pursuing.

*Authorized Access: Hello, xError_MissingName here. I will be your conductor for the orchestration of the events you're about to see. From your point of view, the world you're about to witness is a futuristic version of your own. This here is miss Yenesis Heaven, an A-class android. She's 22 years old, brave, and unmistakably beautiful. She is inorganic in her left eye, her breasts, her left arm, her right forearm, and her lower legs. The augmentations have given her many useful abilities and even more potential for upgrades. But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's see her. She has fair skin, a beautiful face, short white blonde hair in a bob cut that covers a bit over her left eye, a toned but feminine body, a pair of C cup (but adjustable) breasts, a healthy bottom, and a pair of womanly legs. Her pores are slightly augmented to produce a nutritious, anti-aging clear liquid that enhances cellular reproduction by eliminating cell senescence. The pores on her face can also auto-generate her makeups as well as remove them. The internal workings of her body has similar enhancements to her skin. I tell you all this now because it explains why you'll see her consume much more food and water to run efficiently and survive. In this dreamscape, we have all of time itself. But her journey must start now. She must find purpose in her new life as an android. Feel free to give us some advice. Because when she sleeps... I'll return. ***** ***** Authorized Access Only ***** ***** Checking Subconsciousness ***** ***** Checking Consciousness ***** ... ..... ....... ***** Identify Confirmed ***** [Yenesis Heaven] My eyes open. I see a ceiling fan going around and around. I'm laying in my bed, snuggling under the blanket. This dark brown room stinks. One source of light beams through a broken window cover while the other blinks on and off in my bathroom. Did I forget to turn it off? ... I feel the now common pang in my bladder. It's irritating but something must be done about it. I cross my legs under the blanket. Turning on my side, I slide a hand down there as well. Squirming only as much as I need to, I try to clear the grogginess by sleeping in just a bit more. I try to relax. My body stops and I can feel the weight of my bladder. Sigh. Why do I even care anymore? Who's here to judge me for pissing in my own bed? I start urinating with my eyes closed. The stream hits my wrist before running down the side of my thigh. Piss pools around my bum and starts to spread on the mattress sheet. Good thing I went to bed naked, I guess. Tomorrow I'll move on from here. The abandoned building vibe gives me shivers... that or the warm lake I just made by doing my business in the sheets. The blanket caught it too. Now I regret it. The relief is appreciated but now, reality hits: I just pissed myself in my own bed. I already can't recall the logic that was going through my brain but, carefully, I push myself up off the crime scene, pee dripping from my thighs into the dissipating puddle. The smell makes it even more embarrassing. I throw the blanket over the spot where I laid. I walk into the bathroom. I still have to go. I sit down on the toilet and relax. Now I have to remember where I put my clothes. ... They're in the bedroom, of course. I finish and wipe myself with my bare hand because there's no toilet paper in here. I walk over to the sink and twist the facet. Nothing. I move over to the tub to try the shower. Nothing. I hate this place. I move back into the bedroom and wipe myself down with the dry spots of the blanket. I dress myself into my pair of shiny silver briefs and bra, my pair of tight black pants, my black tank top (that shows off the edges of my bra), and my black sneakers. I don my grey baseball cap and turn on some makeup for myself. Why not? Now it's time to find something to eat. ... I walk down the stairs with echoing steps. The silence really bugs me. I feel a tinge of fear running down my spine as I make it out onto the empty street. If I remember correctly, there's a bar northwest of here. Maybe I'll find a job there too. But first, I have to walk. ... My thighs and bum feel a bit sticky. Gross. The bar is right in front of me. The street here is a bit dirtier and feels more lived on. Noises of the bar's patrons tell me that I'm safe to enter without drawing too much attention to myself. I walk inside. A colorful palette of neon colors greet me along with the sight of a dozen and a half patrons drinking and talking among themselves. Only the bar owner pays me any attention. I walk over to him. The man is rather large in a bulky, strongman way. He has an eyepatch over his left eye and a cigarette on his lips. He's got a full beard that looks to be still growing on him and a buzz cut head of dark hair. Auto-analyzing his profile, he should be around his late forties to early fifties. Even though he appears younger, he's augmented just a bit. He seems nice though, maybe he'll see me as the same. "Hey there, you want a drink?" He says. A drink? At this early hour of the day? "No, thanks. Do you have something to eat?" I reply. "Sure, what do you want? I've got rations, soups, bread, sandwiches, burgers, and fish balls." That's... a unique variety of food. "Um, how much for some soup?" "Wait a minute, young lady." Uh oh. "... You don't have any credits to your name." Crap, he checked my profile. "Can I owe you for this one? I haven't eaten since... days ago," I say to him. "Listen here, kid, I'll do you one better." ... Huh? "If you're willing to work, I'll get you some food. You are looking for a job too, right? No point in coming here, otherwise, unless you were banking on a stranger's generosity. Hah!" I nod my head. "Alright, so you're willing to work, yes?" "Yeah." "Good. Listen closely then, kid," he leans in. "I've recently received a shipment of some specialized beers and I need someone to deliver it. My usual driver yesterday got in an accident real bad and doesn't even lift a finger now. I need you to drive the truck that I have in the back of the bar to this address... here." The barkeeper hands me a chip. The location must be on it but... "Why the secrecy?" I decide to ask. "Because it's a specialized beer, see? Secret recipe. I don't plan on living in his dump for any longer than I have to and that beer is going to put our name on the map. I need you to deliver it to where my people are so they can spread the word and product. Do what you're supposed to and I'll even pay you, yeah? But don't open up the back of the truck, understand? Or else you'll ruin the refrigeration." Sounds doable. "Yeah, alright. Can I get something first though?" "Oh yeah, here," he hands me a key. "Again, the truck's just 'round the back." "... I meant some food." "Oh, that's right. Early payment for you, I guess. Now, what do you want?" I order a soup and a few sandwiches and start eating. Everything tastes alright but I'm in no position to be a critic. I quickly chug down a few glasses of water before heading out. Stuffed, I make my way to where the truck should be and find a monstrosity in its stead. The supposed delivering truck is a safety regulation gone out the window. Sigh. No complaints though. A girl's gotta eat. I climb into the truck and start it up. I implant the chip into my arm and it gives me some coordinates... twelve hours away. Motherfucker. Yet... I'm also in no position to bargain. It's just time to drive. ... Five hours on an empty desert road and I'm beginning to feel like shit. The air conditioning doesn't work, the sun is right in my face, and I actually have to take a rest stop. I feel my bladder aching in defiance against my rubbing legs. This time, I'm NOT pissing all over myself. At any point on the road, I know I can simply stop for a quick break. But I'm just as stubborn as my bladder. I'll not stop if I'm not asked nicely or, in other words, if it doesn't stop wrecking my nerves and making me look like an un-potty-trained six year-old who constantly has to pee every few hours. Grumble. Great. But not great. I have to poop. An immediate pain grips my stomach as I instinctively bend forward and clutch it with a free hand. I could feel the intense pressure building up, calmly but menacingly demanding me to let go. But all I had was soup and a few sandwiches. At most, it should've blocked my system... unless... the food was fucking dirty. Sweat begins to bead on my forehead where the sun couldn't manage before. THUMP. A bump in the road suddenly launches me off the seat for a split second. "Damn it!" I felt it, a jet of something warm running through my uterus. I bend straight back up and I could feel the full force of the pressure in the back again. Alright, time for a stop. I glance at the side view mirrors, holding on with a left hand buried between my legs and crotch and the elbow of my left arm trying fruitlessly to massage my stomach. For some reason, both sides of the road has a big enough ditch for the truck to get stuck in if I try to pull over. I grit my teeth. Through sticky strands of hair covering my face, I could see the end. An impossibly long stretch of extra rocky desert road. Worst yet, another truck is coming up behind me. If I jump out now, I'll piss immediately, with or without pants. "F-Fuck me... f-fuck it!" I groan, signal, and pull over on the side of the road. My right hand works to put the truck in parking with my left hand struggles to unbutton my pants. The hard stop gives the last push to break my control as the front of my pants begins to grow hot. I rush to quickly yank my pants and briefs down to my knees. To my horror, the flood doesn't wait before I can open the side door and hot pee shoots into the door's compartment. A bit leaks away from the main stream and flows onto my thighs before the leather seat. I finally open the door. "Haaahhh..." The stream soaks the ground with intensity, blowing up steam and the smell of hot piss. I hang onto the door with one hand while the other hangs onto the neck of the seat. My legs, stuck in a pair of briefs and pants, spread with little success to keep the stream from separating into smaller rivulets running down into my shoes. I feel my face grow hotter than before. A cramp suddenly drops me as I hit the gravel clutching my stomach with one arm. Seeing the oncoming truck with no chance of stopping, I feel my embarrassment grow to an unbearable level. I yank my underwear up... a bad mistake. The pee hits the material with its full force and causes the gusset of the briefs to dip before flooding completely, marking a dark but shiny spot on it. Groan. I can't pull my pants up or else I'll flood them too. I push myself to finish quickly while using the door to hide my flushed face from the truck that's coming up close. My embarrassment mounts as a sizable puddle forms beneath me because the ground can't absorb quickly enough. The truck stops. Its front doors open. Two men in black suits exit the vehicle, pointing their guns at me. "Freeze, freak! You're under arrest!" "Put your hands in the air!" It looks like they drive a transport truck for prisoners, the SSH or the Superior Society of Humans. It's no coincidence that they are here. Either they stalk this road, the barkeeper set me up, or both. In any case, I've been caught with my pants down... literally, and with one too many guns to even try to get away or disarm anyone. "Lay down, freak!" I slowly lay down on my stomach, pants down and wincing with every movement in a puddle of my own pee. Life... is a bitch.

Anyone know of good videos where a girl finds a place (usually somewhere discreet but still in public) to go, pulls down her pants/panties, starts going, but then gets caught and has to pull them back up, and finishes going in her pants? I know of at least 1 LoveWetting video like that (couldn't find it quickly, sorry!) and one old one that was up on here a while ago but got taken down of a girl running through the forest and then this exact following situation. Would love to know if there's more where those came from.

Hi everyone! So last night was very warm and wet for me.. (Check out wetting experences) After all of my fluid intake, and resulting wetting, I put on a Depend brief stuffed with a Tena overnight pad.. Just in case I ended up letting my post orgasm pee go into it, before falling asleep.. I stayed dry all night, but felt the familiar fullness of my bladder once I woke up.. I obviously didn't move, and let go, right in bed... Once I began peeing, my body took over and I couldn't stop.. My padding held up, for 80% of my wetting.. The rest leaked out and got the bed wet... Good thing for a mattress protector ☺️

Chapter 1 Mrs. Clemens ran into the school at the start of the day. She tossed her empty coffee into the garbage can. Having forgotten to use the bathroom before leaving home, and then guzzling down her coffee only worsened things. Her bladder felt hard and heavy, aching so bad she almost just wanted to pee her pants right there. She ran up to the bathroom, a one person’s room, there was one for ladies and one for men, and she shoved her key in and tried to turn, but no good. Sweating, shaking, she knocked on the door fast and with force. “Um, um, are you almost done in there?” asked the desperate thirty-year-old. “In a minute.” With her bag hanging over her arm, Mrs. Clemens kept her legs tight together as her feet paced back and forth. She saw a couple student walked by and giggled. Embarrassing. She pushed her hands up against her crotch and crossed her legs. She felt herself losing control, her eye widening, the pain so bad. The pee inside slowly moving through her crotch, trying to push the cracks of her crotch opened and flood her underwear and pants. “No, no, no, no!” she freaked out. She was about to knock again when the door opened, and Mrs. Clemens ran in, unbuttoning her pants, pulling them and her white panties down, and spreading her legs as she sat on that toilet. “Ahhhhhhhhhh!” she said peacefully as her bladder deflated. A loud stream shot out of her, splashing the toilet water sending drops at her ass that were cold. The sweet relief as she sat down letting it all out, avoding a major accident. After a minute, she flushed, got her pants back up, washed her hands and went to her class to start the day. Mrs. Michaud was a tall woman. Amazon lady-like tall. Her long, muscular legs made her 40-year-old body still seem like early thirties, late twenties and a ten on the hottie scale. Her blonde hair was wrapped in a long ponytail, and she wore black nylons over her tall legs, with a dark red short skirt over it. Her torso was covered by a tight black sweater. It was only the beginning of May, and a good two months of school left. The sun blazed onto the high school making teachers and students like Michaud sweat. “Jesus,” she said, wiping the sweat off her forehead. She guzzled a large portion of her big water bottle and her throat expanded and gulped as it all went into her body. Across the hall Ms. Lee, who was getting married at the end of the school year. She was a thin, hot blonde in her mid-twenties. Her blonde hair lased over her shoulders as a tight gray top stretched over her boobs. Her black jacket was more for show than need, since it was so hot, she wish she had not worn it. Her tight black jeans showed off her sexy crotch and ass and cut off at the ankles where she wore brown heels. Her XL Ice Coffee from the donut shop this morning both perked her up and cooled her off. Mrs. Clemens, although her marriage seemed on the rocks lately, she remained optimistic. After all despite a tiny bit of chubby around the hips and legs, those tight blue jeans, white t-shirt with a black sweater tight over it showed off her classy, figure. Her short brown hair hung over her ears, and she wore brown shoes that had the back cut off which allowed people to see her white socks. She sat with her feet up on her desk, ankles crossed, and read aloud to her students from the poem they were reviewing. “And to the wind, comes the night, let the rivers flow and-,” just then, Mrs. Clemens was cut off by a slight tingling in her lower body. A familiar pressure. Not even close to bad. But a slight annoyance as she felt it push up again here and there. Perhaps she should not have had her morning coffee so fast and guzzled down that can of cola from the teacher’s break room vending machine. She whistled quietly to herself as a student read on. The first bell of the day rang, and classes ended. Everyone headed out. Mrs. Tuley, a physics teacher, had her class on the other side of the school today as most of the rooms on the other side of the school was being renovated. Construction left holes in the walls, power lines turned off, and the plumbing exposed. Some classrooms were still opened, but it was still a hassle for some. Mrs. Tuley dismissed her class, and thank the heavens the teacher’s lavatory was right next to the computer lab. She unlocked it with her designated key, and went in to do her business. Down the hall came Mrs. Clemens, her nice ass shaking back and forth. For thirty-years-old, she still looked pretty good. She stuck her key in the teacher’s lavatory door, tried to turn it, but it felt like it did not move. She grabbed the handle and tried turning it, but no good. She tried harder turning the key, but nothing. She knocked, and heard from the inside, “Occupied.” Mrs. Clemens sighed as she stood against the wall across from the bathroom. Her hands in her pockets, whistling quietly. The remaining of her morning coffee that had not made it out this morning since it had not reached her bladder yet, mixed with the digested cola. Such a hot day. She walked over to the drinking fountain and took a long sip. She saw Mrs. Michaud and Ms. Lee walking towards the bathroom so she hurried back so she could remain in front. Michaud was right behind her, Lee at the end, and each motioned their hips back and forth as they waited for the toilet…. To be continued…

"I need a wee!" Amanda announced. For the last three hours we had been standing in searing heat iat the centre of Siena's Piazza del Campo, tightly packed into a crowd of many thousands of spectators, hoping for a glimpse of a horse race that would last less than two minutes. The start of that race was still another hour away. Peter, the girls' father, had flown in from London for a few days at the family's Tuscan villa and he and his wife Angela, Valerie and myself, Emily and Jack and Amanda and Callum had spent the day in Siena, absorbing the excitement of the Palio. The Palio di Siena is no ordinary race meeting, nor is it an event organised with tourists in mind. In a tradition that goes back to the 1600s, ten of the city's "Contrade" (districts) compete in a frantic and lawless bareback scramble of horses and riders making three laps of the Piazza del Campo, the city's central square. Passion and rivalry are intense and bribery, betrayal, guile and rule-breaking are all considered fair game. The riders' crops, rumoured to be cured and distended bull's penises, are used as much to assault other jockeys as to encourage their own horses. Falls and spills are inevitable occurrences and a horse can win the race even if its rider is no longer on board. That morning, knowing that every parking space in the city would have long since been taken, we had parked Peter's hire car and the battered old Fiat runabout some distance out of town and walked for two miles through the city's crowded, narrow, medieval streets of pink stone, each district proudly flying its contrada colours from every door and window. By some miracle Peter had managed to book a restaurant table and we had had a long and very enjoyable lunch, washed down with a little wine and plenty of mineral water - the afternoon was going to be hot. We were each wearing the colours of our chosen contrada. In honour of the little bronze statue of Ondine in the grounds of the Tuscan villa, Valerie had paired her classic white summer dress with a headscarf in the sky blue and white of the Onda (Wave) district. I wore an Aquila (Eagle) t-shirt that I thought made me look rather dashing until Valerie pointed out that Aquila was known as the "nonna" (granny) district because it had not won the race for so many years. On a previous visit to the city, Emily and Amanda had been bothered by over-attentive Sienese young men so instead of her usual miniskirt Amanda had opted for a cool, white cotton blouse and denim shorts that emphasised her long, tanned and flawlessly-shaped legs, her honey-coloured hair tied in a ponytail and topped with a dark blue cap bearing the scallop shell badge of the Nicchio (Seashell) contrada. Callum could hardly take his eyes off her. Emily's wine-red tailored shorts and white crop shirt were topped by a red and black Civetta (Little Owl) scarf. With the dark wavy hair she had inherited from Peter she looked, as ever, stunningly beautiful. Palio spectators - or at least those ordinary citizens who have not booked months in advance and paid anything up to 350 euros for a seat on a wooden bench in front of one of the bars and restaurants that line the square - crowd on to a standing area in the centre of the racecourse. The course is cleared of pedestrians long before the race starts to prepare for the Corteo Storico ceremonial pageant and from that time there is no way off the central island - and there are no toilet facilities on it. "I'm bursting!" Amanda insisted, jigging restlessly from foot to foot for emphasis as a squad of mounted carabinieri made a dramatic charge round the racetrack. "Trust you, Amanda!" replied her father, raising his eyes to heaven in mock exasperation. "But you're going to have to wait I'm afraid. They've closed off the square now so you won't be able to go anywhere until after the race. And even then I'm not sure where you're going to find a loo, especially as about fifty thousand other people are going to be looking for one at the same time." "Actually, Amanda's not the only one" said Emily quietly. "And I don't think I am going to be able to wait much longer." Normally, this would not have presented too much of a problem as Angela and her three daughters would often wet themselves discreetly when no toilet was available and usually wore skirts or dresses to make this easier. However discretion was hardly an option in this tightly-packed crowd. A puddle would be obvious and could well spread under other spectators' feet. And today, both girls were wearing shorts so an accident would be all too obvious. The great bell in the Torre del Mangia began to toll and the Corteo Storico historical pageant of some 700 people in medieval costume, commemorating the time when Siena was a rich and powerful city-state, entered the square and began to parade round the racetrack, each of the 17 Contrade in their own colours. Her legs squeezed tightly together, Emily began to cry. "I'm going to wet myself in front of all these people!" she murmured in distress as Jack put a protective arm round her. I bent down and took a litre bottle of water out of my backpack, removed the lid and then let it slip from my hand as I started to drink. Water gushed out over the herringbone-patterned brick pavement. There was ribald laughter and comments of "maldestro" and "ubriaco" from the crowd around us as I clumsily stood on the bottle whilst trying to regain my feet. I stepped aside. Recognising my plan, Jack put his hands on Emily's hips and gently guided her into the spot I had vacated, then stood protectively close behind her.. "OK guys, circle time!" he said quietly. We all gathered round. "Thank you" Emily whispered to me. She stood still in the middle of the tight circle we had made round her and let go. Pee flowed silently down her legs but the already huge patch on the paving did not change noticeably as most of the extra liquid disappeared into cracks between the herringbone-patterned bricks that made up the surface of the square. When she had finished Amanda murmured "Me next, please - quick!" Watching Emily's relief, she had started to wet her shorts. "Welcome to the magic circle!" said Callum, taking up station behind Amanda with his hands on her hips. The dark patch of wetness between her legs expanded up the front and rear of her denim shorts and pee streamed down the insides of her bare legs. Some quirk of the shape of her shorts prevented the silent flow Emily had achieved and I was aware of the sound of pee splashing on the pavement beneath her feet. Luckily, all eyes in the crowd was on a spectacular flag-throwing competition between the seventeen contrade stationed around the racetrack and nobody outside our group seemed aware of what was happening right beside them. So far, so good. But we now had two beautiful girls who had very obviously wet themselves and they could well attract unwelcome attention as we walked back to our cars through streets thronged with excited, competitive, alcohol-fuelled and testosterone-charged partygoers. Amanda's was the worse case. Although Emily's dark red shorts showed clear evidence of a wetting they had not changed colour to the same extent as Amanda's pale blue faded denim. Once again I rummaged in my backpack, produced the sweater I had worn in the cool of early morning and offered it to Amanda to tie round her waist behind her. That at least covered one angle. "Maybe this will teach you girls to plan ahead!" said Angela, in a self-satisfied voice. "Mummy - you've....!" Valerie exclaimed, then broke off. Angela was wearing a full-length kaftan sundress with an elaborate black and white pattern. Around her shoulders she wore a large shawl in the black and white of the Lupa (She-wolf) contrada. There was a tiny puddle between her feet. "I've been letting it out bit by bit for some time. In the right clothes, as long as you don't suddenly release a flood, nobody notices." She took off her Lupa shawl and tied it protectively round Emily's slim waist. "We'd better swap loyalties for the rest of the day, you and I." Emily untied her Civetta scarf and handed it to her mother. Birds scattered in alarm as a loud explosion signalled that the race was about to begin. Nine of the horses and riders assembled behind a rope stretched across the racetrack. The race would start - theoretically - when the tenth rider galloped his horse towards the starting line. Horses and riders jostled for position behind the rope with much taunting, catcalling and offers of bribes. Finally, after several false starts, re-groupings and re-starts, the race was on! The ten horses and riders thundered past us, leaning in to the sharp corner ahead. The crowd roared and all heads followed the progress of the riders on the first of their three laps. As she watched the race, Valerie parted her legs slightly. A stream fell from beneath her dress and splashed on to the brick paving between her sandals. Horses and riders swept past us a second time, the crowd shouting and screaming encouragement to their contrada and curses and catcalls to their rivals. Valerie continued to wet her knickers beneath her dress in full view of, but completely un-noticed by, thousands of spectators. On the third lap, the horses and riders were more spaced out with the Draco contrada's horse clearly in the lead. The crowd went wild. Valerie, demure and pretty in her pristine white dress, resumed her normal stance and gave me a cheeky grin. Stewards removed the barriers and the excited crowd spilled on to the racecourse, some to throng round the horse and rider of their own contrada, others making their way to the street parties in each district that would continue long into the night. We formed ourselves into a tight group with Emily and Amanda in the middle and threaded our way through the revellers that thronged the streets. As we passed the winning jockey, standing beside his horse in the middle of a crowd of ecstatic Draco supporters, we noticed that he was swigging red wine from a baby's bottle. "Apparently, it symbolises re-birth" explained Peter. Luckily both girls had dried off to some extent, daylight was fading and, apart from the occasional street lamp and light spilling out from crowded and noisy restaurants and bars, the narrow medieval streets were fairly dark so we managed the two-mile walk back to the cars without incident or embarrassment. I was beginning to feel the pressure myself as I had not had a pee for several hours and I imagined that the other men were feeling much the same. A short distance out of town Peter swung his car into a deserted lay-by - I could guess why. I followed him in. As Peter, Jack, Callum and I stood in a row, four jets of piss arcing into the undergrowth at the edge of the lay-by, there was a sudden flash of blinding light. "That's one for the album!" said Valerie, looking with satisfaction at the image on her phone camera.

Victoria jeans wetting.mp4 Victoria pink pants wetting.mp4 Victoria pink polka dot panties wetting 1.mp4 Victoria pink polka dot panties wetting 2.mp4 Victoria red pants wetting 1.mp4 Victoria red pants wetting 2.mp4

I've been gone for a little while and have delayed some other request but I'll be getting back on them soon! I haven't been completely inactive in terms of art, but drawing the comics was draining while also going to summer school for art. I decided to make this thread (Not for requests, yet) to post stuff I work on outside of my comics thats omorashi/lewd related. First one is a bit of an experimental gif I drew for the same OC I use for most of my comics (2 of 3, not very impressive). In the future I might transition my comic posts to this one since the title of my original thread is misleading, but for now it'll be used for the purpose stated above. If anyone who requested a comic from me sees this feel free to pester me on discord (Gabbr#0080) or in my inbox on this site! I left off in the middle of making a comic, and you know who you are and I'm sorry about that. I'll be getting back on it soon. For now please enjoy the brief gif!

I'm baaaaaaaaaaaacccccccccck!!! Hey Everyone, For those of you who didn't see my last story (or forgot because it was months ago) I have writing experience, but I am pretty inexperienced when it comes writing omo. My last (and first) story didn't quite work with the omo aspect the way I wanted it to, so I was feeling stuck with trying to find a sequel for it. Instead, I created a brand new storyline! I may still go back to the other story at some point, but I am proud to give you this new work. As the tags suggest, it features sex. It is basically a sex story (another new thing for me) with omo thrown in for good measure. Like my last story, it is inspired by some stories I have seen on this site, but in categories that I feel are under-represented (but great stories!). As I said, this is my first attempt at writing a sex scene so if there's anyone who's done it before, or knows good stories like this for me to read, please give me feedback so that I can improve. As always, any criticism or ideas are greatly appreciated and I hope to keep this thread going for quite some time. Now, without further ado, enjoy 😀 P.S. I do quite envy Jason and aspire to be him one day 😅 ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------- *RING RING RING* Abby slowly opened her eyes as her alarm clock blared on the nightstand. She blinked, trying to clear away the haze in her eyes. *RING RING RING* Abby felt around for the off button. There it was… almost… *RING* *CLICK* She smashed the off button before the alarm could go off for a third time. Annoyed, she rolled onto her side as a familiar ache made itself known in her stomach. She had to pee. Bad. Today, like most days she could remember, moments after waking up she felt an extreme urge to pee. On the days when she didn’t feel that need, it was because she had already wet the bed and when Abby wet the bed, it less of a drizzle and more of a downpour. You are likely wondering why Abby didn’t wear some kind of protection to bed. That is because, secretly or not-so-secretly, Abby rather enjoyed wetting herself. Abby suffered from an unlucky pairing of bladder traits. On one hand, she had a relatively large bladder. She could, at times, be out all day and not pee once before getting home. Meanwhile, for as long she could remember, she had had incontinence issues. Whenever she felt the need to go, she had only minutes before it was coming out. This was especially troublesome with her large bladder. Rather than simply suffering from small leaks, when Abby lost control, there was no hiding the damage. Nevertheless, Abby didn’t always accept her bladder’s limits, especially when there was something that occupied her attention. Today, was one of those days. As Abby rolled onto her side, she looked upon her boyfriend, Jason’s, face. Having been dating since she was a sophomore (Jason was a senior at the time), they were still in love, three years into their relationship. Abby was 18 and had recently graduated from high school and had, even more recently, moved into Jason’s apartment. Now that they were around each other more frequently, their relationship had become closer than ever. Jason had even been quietly making plans to propose. Abby was gazing at his face, wondering how or why she was lucky enough to have someone like him. They had met in the drama department, when one of his friends had won a bet, forcing him to audition for the upcoming musical. Abby, who was a frequent in the department, was instantly in love, or in “high school” love, that is. She found him incredibly attractive, as did almost every girl at the school, making Abby feel even more lucky, for having been the one to win the prize. Abby’s bladder throbbed hard, reminding her of her need, and to spare the bed, as well as prolong the struggle which was starting to make her throb in other ways, she shoved one hand into her pussy and gripped, trying to hold in the gallons of piss that were trying to escape from their night of captivity. In this desperate process of keeping her panties (she only slept in panties) dry, she accidentally shook the bed, waking up Jason. Jason, who was not yet awake enough to realize what was going on, reached one arm over Abby and pulled her closer to him. Abby, getting increasingly turned on, as well as increasingly wet keeping herself dry, didn’t resist. Jason was by now fully, or almost fully awake. He realized how desperately Abby needed to piss by the tense, furrowed expression on her face, and his erection went from morning wood to throbbing with anticipation. While Abby enjoyed feeling the desperation to pee, and the eventual wetting as well, Jason practically lived for it. He would challenge her at times to hold it and she, loving both the challenge as well as the competition, often agreed. Their sex life wasn’t limited to pee play, although it was certainly entwined. With their bodies up against each other, Jason guided Abby to flip over so that she was facing away from him. They were both breathing heavily, wanting what was coming, but not wanting it to be over. In position, Jason first leaned his head in, not quite getting to her face before stopping and lightly biting her neck. She closed her eyes and began writhing in pleasure. Jason wasn’t about to let her get away. He reached an arm over her curvy, sexy, delicious body and worked his hand down from her stomach to her bladder, pausing for a moment to push slightly on the bulge that had formed before grabbing it and squeezing. “Oh g-god Jason, I’m about to fucking p-piss,” Abby gasped between staggered breaths. Her writhing, which only a moment ago had been caused by intense sexual pleasure, was now increased by the imminent flood that would surely erupt from her pussy any moment. Her hands had never left her crotch after being plunged there to hold her pee, but she now found herself rubbing as well. She realized that by now, a squirt or two wouldn’t even be noticeable with how wet she was already. Jason, for his part, knew how to work her and push all the right buttons. His hand left her poor bladder and went right into her panties, pushing Abby’s hands out of the way and he began vigorously rubbing her clit. Once again, her writhing doubled, and she almost screamed with pleasure. Her clit and vulva were swollen and already glistening with wetness. She was panting like an animal and Jason’s state was similar, although he retained control of the situation. “You like that, don’t you,” Jason asked, slowly whispering into her ear. A loud moan was the only response he got. Abby wasn’t the only one swollen. Jason felt like his dick would soon burst with cum, but he wanted to prolong the situation a bit longer. Abby was grinding hard into his hand and he knew that she was close to cumming, herself. He also knew that with her bladder, whenever she came, she pissed uncontrollably. With the load she was holding at the moment, it would be like Hoover Dam erupting, in a golden flood of piss and womanly juices. He had seen it happen many times before. “I-I’m… I-I’m g-g-gonna…” Abby was trying to say something, but couldn’t form a sentence. Jason knew exactly what she was trying to say. In one motion, Jason rolled onto his back, picked Abby up and laid her on top of him. Although she wasn’t much help in her current state, Abby tried to not be dead weight. Jason picked up Abby once again and, while dropping her down facing toward him, thrust his dick hard into her. They both groaned loudly as each had a powerful orgasm. Jason pumped in and out while his cum sprayed into Abby’s waiting pussy. The loudest sound of all, perhaps, was the hiss of Abby releasing her pent-up piss balloon all over Jason and the bed. The walls were not even fully spared as her piss sprayed wildly. Even after Jason finished his thrusts, Abby was still grinding and pissing away. When her stream died down, she forced out the last few squirts, watching them land on Jason’s already drenched chest. Exhausted, Abby collapsed on top of Jason, enjoying feeling her pee all over him, a thin layer of wetness separating their bodies. They each spent a minute or so, catching their breath after the morning’s unexpected workout. Abby kissed her boyfriend, showing her satisfaction with how things had gone. “I love you,” she said. “What do you want to do today?” He gave her a smirk before answering. “Well,” he replied, “I’m not sure. But I don’t think you’re going pee again for... a while.” Abby’s eyes lit up and she kissed him again, hard. They both thought that was a lovely way to start a day.