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female On the train home


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Guest tholepin

Way to go Carys. After reading, I shared your adventure with my wife which resulted in us walking to our bench swing in the back yard and wetting ourselves. When we pee together, our clothes always feel more slippery and smell like outdoor musky sex. Thank you. 

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Thank you for the kind words. It means a lot, and makes me want to write up some older experiences, as well as generating exciting new ones. A day on I’m really positive about how it made me feel to purposefully wet this publically, and I’m open to increasing how daring I am in the future. ?

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2 hours ago, Carys said:

Thank you for the kind words. It means a lot, and makes me want to write up some older experiences, as well as generating exciting new ones. A day on I’m really positive about how it made me feel to purposefully wet this publically, and I’m open to increasing how daring I am in the future. ?

That is sounding fun! I will enjoy reading about what you do next

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On 08/10/2017 at 12:24 AM, Carys said:

Hey! Debated posting this since it’s not the world’s most exciting story and might veer slightly into a Welsh stand up comedy review, but I’m tipsy and a little soggy still, so what the hey lol.

I went to Edinburgh by train this morning to meet with a few friends. Two live there, one lives south of it and I’m in Dundee, so it makes sense as a meeting point. Once or twice a year we meet, wander around the city, drink and then party ways again in the evening.

I got onto the train at about 9pm, going through to about the middle of the carriage to find a seat that was unreserved - by which I mean it had a ticket but the last reservation got off at Berwick lol - and started the second half of a stand up comedy show I’d watched the first half of this morning on my iPad (Rhod Gilbert - The Man with the Flaming Battenberg Tattoo by the way. If you like British comedy and you have not seen it, go and find it. It’s beautiful lmao).

About halfway through the journey I finished watching the show, having stifled my laughter as much as possible - I did not expect a slide show involving a potato to be the crown jewel. At this point I was starting to need the toilet, though. And while the carriage was maybe only half to two thirds full, with a lot of people seemingly no-showing their reservations, the man in the aisle seat next to the window one I’d taken had turned up. He was due to get off before Dundee, so rather than ask him to move so I could use the loo, I thought I’d just wait.

Well, I waited just fine! He got off, and I was left alone. The couple in the seats opposite us had also left on his stop. And left me, with maybe 20 minutes or so to Dundee, thinking about the situation.

I needed a wee. I was full of alcoholic courage. The idea of public wetting is one that I’ve slowly been familiarising myself with, and getting excited about, pushing my boundaries here and there. I didn’t like the idea of irritating the cleaner, but (and I know this is a horrible mentality) the train was already a sty, strewn with crumbs, litter, muddy footprints and copies of the Metro. I had considered getting up and going to the toilet, but they are ridiculously tight to get into - and I’m not a small girl lol - and normally have a floor of toilet paper, wee, and if you hit the jackpot, even more. So I did what any drunk person in her mid-20s would do in Scotland lmao.

With my legs pinned together as tightly as possible, my dress not stuck between my crotch to avoid dampening it, my legs positioned, and leaning back a little for comfort, I started going as slowly as possible. It took a few seconds to start, then I felt the all familiar heat. My wee processed across my thighs, going down my legs. Some fell into my shoes - I felt my ankles dampen - while some ran over them and pooled at my heels. Halfway through, while I started to speed up due to confidence, I also felt my bum start to dampen. Wetting myself had the side effect of sobering me up - I felt myself flush over as the realisation of what I had done, and what i had to do next - struck.

Once the liquid had cooled, I got up, swung my satchel around to cover whatever staining I had caused on the bum side of my dress, and waited in the “lobby” where the exit was. I don’t know if anyone noticed, the puddle I left on the floor wasn’t particularly significant. It felt like most of my wee was still clinging to my clothes. I’m sure there really wasn’t and it was just me being hyper-focused on the situation, but in my head, there was an audible squelch every time I took a step.

After getting off the train, I headed up the stairs as fast as I could. I got into the first taxi in the rank, gave her my destination, and sat on the edge of the seat in the hope of not inflicting anyone else with my mess. Paid her, got in, said hello to my flatmate/friend while avoiding him seeing me, and absconded to my room, where I still am.

I haven’t changed yet.

Too lazy. ?

Nice story. Thought I was the only young scottish person on this website but not anymore :) haha

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Love the realism of this story, so understandable, so believable, so exciting to imagine the lovely and daring thoughts that went though your mind as the beautiful pressure in your panties mounted, seated on that rather dirty train.  Its the most natural experience and consequence after a lovely evening of drinking with friends to feel the growing need for a wee on the way home, we've all done it. Once decided, the naughtiness, the fun and pleasure of letting yourself go, spurting under the pressure in your panties could begin, what sheer delight you must have felt! Won't be long before you allow yourself to do it again, I'm sure.  xx 

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