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female I peed my skirt in the car....multiple times! (KozmoLotto V Winners Requests: Part 1)


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51 minutes ago, KozmoFox said:

My kidneys were ramped up to max velocity so my bladder had more than replaced what liquids I had lost, and it was more tired as a result of incident one. It got to the point where I was leaking tiny droplets again and softly mewling into my food from the pangs of desperation

That's just really adorable! And I feel bad for saying it because you were in such distress, then again I think we know you were enjoying it!

 

51 minutes ago, KozmoFox said:

And I was only halfway home, driving on a highway.

Tears plucked at my eyes from desperation and frustration, constantly saying "No no no, I'm almost there please fucking no" as I felt the first drops moisten my already damp panties. I wanted to bad to throw one leg over the other. Add my other hand. Jump around. Do ANYTHING at all, but I couldn't. I literally could not. I'm not used to losing control and not being able to fight it. I'm not used to wetting myself so HELPLESSLY. I can't tell you what it looked like. I didn't take my eyes off the road. Not once.

But I can tell you how it felt. I can tell you how my muscles dropped, how I felt the warm, wet urine pour out of me, increasing in pressure with every passing second. I can tell you how I felt it pool under my ass, filling my skirt like a swimming pool. How it pooled around my backside, saturating my panties, and warming my entire lower body. How it rushed forward, my leg still bouncing, my lips still begging for it to just not, as it soaked my thighs, my thigh high socks, being absorbed by them, the towel underneath me. How eventually my panties, skirt, socks, and towel were no longer enough, and it began to rush over the front of the seat, onto the floor. How I felt it pour down like a waterfall, spattering against the back of my knees and calves. I can tell you how warm I felt, like it was the hottest summer day.

I can tell you how it sounded. I can tell you how I heard my own groans in my throat. The involuntary mewls. The self-begging I do to myself every single time I wet. The begging to please no, not yet. Please don't pee. Please don't wet yourself, not here, not like this, you can do it, you can make it, please stop. I can tell you how it sounded, the psssshhhhhhh...SSSSSHHHHHH as I went from spurting to full on spraying into my underwear. The sloppy and wet sound of fabric being attacked by a torrent of which it was not made nor ready for. I can tell you the sound of it hitting the back of my legs. Of it pouring onto the floor. The splashing. The trickling. The moans of relief, and the silence that followed. I can tell you the sound of my breaths, as I had worn myself out as I always do and needed oxygen, the in, the out, how deep they were, until I had finally restored my composure and state of being, now feeling better than ever, and also now like jelly in the limbs.

This is really spectacular writing quality, on top of being really spectacular quality of hold event! I especially love how you never gave up at any point!

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