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Showing results for tags 'witnessed wetting'.
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A short Visual Novel I put together based on one of my favorite stories from the old Shara and Ger's website. I'm still new to the Ren'Py system, and I have no artistic talent whatsoever, so it's nothing fancy. The visuals come mainly from an online character creator and my own limited photoshop skills. I had fun making it, and I figured I might as well share it, in the off chance anyone else gets some enjoyment out of it.Free- 2 comments
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Hello everyone, I’m back and I’m back with another question for all of you. It’s a rather simple one, but with a bit more depth into it: how good is YOUR poker face? You may not understand so I’ll elaborate. I’m sure we have all seen a person desperate in our lives that we don’t know, and find ourselves attracted to it. My question is how good are you at hiding it from the outside world? My most recent story was a recount of a near wetting I saw on my school bus 5 years ago. While I know that I couldn’t avoid looking and peeking over at the girl, I know my face was really good at hiding how I was truly feeling. When it comes to stuff like poker however, I’m read like a book, literally. I know people who are usually more upbeat tend to be read better then those of less upbeat stature. This is because like their personality their faces are bright and can often show their emotion. When being more enclosed people tend to show less emotion and people often find it harder to tell whether the person is happy or sad or anything else. I don’t really know if this is really deeply linked to expression, but I know that I am partially expressive and can usually hide my excitement well. Now I must ask you, how good are you? Thanks for reading!
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This is the story of the first time I ever saw somebody wet themselves. It was in my sophomore year of high school, around late January. Previously my experience with this fetish extended to personal fantasies about what was at the time of my sexual awakening the most taboo thing I could think of, but this experience was secretly a huge turn on for me as I realized how hot it actually was to see someone desperate and/or wetting. So, where was I? Ah. Sophomore year, late January. Right. It was fairly late in the evening (maybe sixish), dark out, all that. I had just gotten out of dance class. Most of my friends and I took dance classes after school five days a week. Why anyone would willingly spend that much extracurricular time attempting to instruct us, I cannot fathom. We were mostly rubbish, despite our teacher's best efforts to convince us otherwise. Regardless, we all enjoyed it. Sigh... I'll try to stay on topic from here on out, kay? One day after dance, my best friend, who I'll call Caitlin (not her real name) and I were leaving the studio together, as we usually did. During class I'd noticed a few telltale signs that Caitlin was in desperate need of a pee, which were confirmed as we walked out when she stopped me and asked if we could stop at the bathroom first. We headed that way, but unfortunately the janitor had just finished cleaning the bathrooms in this building. The janitor was very strict about this. Once he was done cleaning a room, it was off limits until school started the next morning. No exceptions. He even applied this rule to teachers who came back to grab a lesson plan they left in their rooms or something. "No can do Mr. Bernard, just come early tomorrow if you really need that book." Rumor had it that even the principal couldn't get into her office after hours without an argument. Anyways, we went outside rather than waste time arguing with the slab of temperamental brick that was the janitor. The air outside was cold and fresh. The place was dark save for the odd floodlight attached to a building or posted in the bus circle. The ground was covered in snow, but nothing was currently coming down and the footpaths were reasonably clean. Shoveling snow was what the janitor and his fearful lackeys spent the daytime hours doing. As we headed to the front of campus, I could see Caitlin getting more desperate with each step. Suddenly she stopped and turned to me. "I just peed a little. I can't hold it." "You'll be fine. Now come on. Bathrooms are all closed, only thing for it is to go home." "I can't hold it that long!" She was squeezing her thighs and holding herself. A solitary drip landed between her feet. We walked a bit more until Caitlin stopped again. I looked back. Her gray pants were stained a bit on the crotch and inner thighs. She looked scared. Rivulets of pee were running down her pantlegs. "Did you just... wet yourself?" "I still have to pee more. I don't want to wet myself more, but I can't hold it." "You could just pull your pants down and do it in the snow. Nobody's around." After some protesting and whimpering, Caitlin told me to turn around. I did. I heard the sound of cloth sliding against skin and the crunch of snow. Moments later, a faint hiss could be heard. When I was told that I could turn around again, Caitlin was standing there with her coat tied round her waist and a calm pose. Behind her I could make out footprints and a faint yellowing of some snow between them. I said nothing of it and we made the ten minute walk to our street together. She was silent for the first half, but as we approached home we were laughing and talking about school like nothing had happened and she hadn't just had an accident in her pants. To this day we haven't spoke of it since, although I secretly take pleasure in reliving that moment every now and then.
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