WetMalissa 160 Posted December 6, 2021 Popular Post Share Posted December 6, 2021 Hello! Yes, after long last (almost 4 years) I’m back with another exciting and highly detailed story to share! Actually many, many stories to share. You see– I never actually stopped putting on my special shows when I disappeared from this site so long ago. I just stopped writing about them. But I think now’s the time for a comeback! Since my absence I’ve indulged myself in this fetish liberally, and have amassed maybe 100 stories or more, though they have yet to be written down. What you’re about to read is one of my most daring and most memorable shows yet. It happened before all of the pandemic craziness, and the names of the people involved are obviously fake. This involves a (very minor) traffic accident (not my fault, btw!) so it’s also not something I’d be comfortable publishing were it not from a couple of years ago now. I’ve also noticed that this site now strongly discourages the kind of public behavior I routinely engage in, so to prevent this from being deleted or flagged or something like that let me give the following disclaimer: this is all made up! Yeah that’s right– none of it really happened so don’t even think of deleting it on moral grounds. I would never dream about doing any of this in real life and neither should you. So there! Without further ado: I was on my way to a Walmart one fateful Sunday evening, ready to put on a spectacular piss show, when an old sedan rear-ended me. My pee desperation levels were maxed out, so when my car lurched with a loud thud I almost lost control in my seat. It was only a small ding, but you know how car accidents can be— adrenaline immediately began surging from its glands and I was gripped with that hyper-awareness that makes the rest of your conscious life seem like a foggy malaise. Without thinking I pulled into the nearest parking lot, noting how empty it was. The small shopping center contained a Dentists office, closed, a Chinese restaurant, also closed, and a mattress store with the light still on. The old sedan rolled in after me and I caught a glimpse of the lady who would end up witnessing one of my greatest shows of all time. It was the dead of winter at the time, and I was appropriately clad in warm apparel: light blue, high-waisted Levi’s, its fabric soft and thick and tight as hell, cinched with a large belt, a cropped cream sweater and some cute brown boots with knitted leg warmers coming up to my knee. No panties. I got out of my car and rushed over to my soon-to-be antagonist to ask if she was ok. She was a stout black lady with a disheveled wig, an enormous bosom, and a mean look in her eye. Her teenage daughter was with her. “Yeah, yeah,” she said, “You?” “I’m fine.” No sense in trying to hide the obvious. “God, I am about to piss my pants though!” I reflexively shoved my hand into my crotch and cinched my knees together to buy some time. “It’d serve you right, lady! What the hell were you doing back there??” I was shocked. It would serve me right? To piss my pants?? I’m always unreasonably aroused when my bladder’s full to bursting, and this woman’s callous words suddenly reminded me of what I had left the house to do in the first place. This was as good of an opportunity for a wetting show as any other, I figured. Hell it was better— my captive audience would apparently relish the sight! At the same time, though, the sheer gal of this lady took me aback. She was the one who hit me after all. I won’t go into details, but just know that in the end a well-placed security camera exonerated me. My innocence in the matter was plain enough, so it was shocking that this woman (I’ll call her Denise) was going to try and argue otherwise. “Excuse me?” I guffawed. We exchanged some heated words while assessing the damage and trying to figure out what happened. I paced back and forth in small, anxious steps during our conversation, shamelessly squeezing my pussy and bending my knees at random intervals to hold back the flood gates. Denise watched this with a cruel smirk. “Whatevuh, pee pee dansuh,” she chided. That’s ‘pee pee dancer’ for those of you who can’t decipher Brooklyn dialect (not that we were anywhere near New York). She obviously felt very clever for thinking of it and would refer to me as that for the rest of our encounter. It turned me on like crazy but for appearances sake I pretended to brush it off. Despite the damage only being a dent on my bumper, it became very clear to me that this was not going to be resolved without involving insurance. Denise agreed “Call 911 then and lets get a report!” So make the call I did. While speaking to the dispatcher I noticed Denise head to the mattress store entrance. An employee was fiddling with the door, and she spoke with him briefly in a hushed voice and slipped in. It was such a minor detail— at the time I hardly even noticed. It took a few minutes to give the dispatcher all the necessary info, and after confirming that an officer was on their way I dutifully called my husband to fill him in on the situation. He detected the hints of desperation in my voice and asked me if I was going to hold it together— not if I could, mind you, but if I was going to choose to. (He was out of town visiting family at the time, so he couldn’t be as candid as he normally would be) I smiled at that and told him probably not. He laughed. Denise strode confidently out of the store around this time, catching my eye and smirking. “Well fill me in later. Have a good time,” my husband said and we exchanged loving pleasantries before hanging up. “They got a nice bathroom in that store,” Denise called over with heavy notes of smug satisfaction. “What?” I responded stupidly. “Yeah I was lucky I caught that guy. He was just locking up.” I looked over. Sure enough the open sign was unlit. Then, just at that moment, all the lights in the store turned off. I couldn’t believe the cheek of this lady. The nerve. A few seconds of awkward silence passed by while I stared in disbelief and tried to parse out my next moves. It goes without saying that I was incredibly turned on by this point. I mean I wasn’t planning on finding a restroom anyways, and here Denise was gleefully pointing out that the last one near me was closed. Well if she wanted a show then I’d give her one! “No no no no no!” I shuddered, walking desperately over to the store. I doubled over and grimaced, once again shoving my fingers under my crotch, then frantically tried to open the door. Locked, obviously. Denise let out an evil cackle. “What is wrong with you!?” I exclaimed. “Why didn’t you tell him I needed to use it too!” “Oops. I fuhgaht.” Then she erupted with another burst of laughter. Her daughter, leaning against the car and staring at her phone, chuckled too. Out of all the daring wetting stunts I’d pulled, they were never in front of someone who had expressly wanted to see it happen (apart from my husband, but he doesn’t really count). It was clear at this point that Denise did, just to witness what she perceived to be cosmic justice. I carefully walked back to my car and stood with one hand over my face and another jammed into my groin, knees cinched together, looking positively distressed. It took a few minutes for the officer to come. He was a young guy, kinda scrawny for a police officer, and had clearly been working a long shift. We gave him our licenses and insurance cards, and separately gave him our accounts of the accident. Denise took an extra long time with her obnoxious retelling. When it was my turn he looked at me sympathetically— I was squirming through the whole thing. “Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll try to make this quick.” It was a sweet gesture. Little did he know I wasn’t planning on holding out. Once he got all the information down he went back to his car to write up the report. Meanwhile Denise decided that now was a great time to Facetime one of her friends and have a loud conversation over speaker phone. We were leaning against our cars and facing each other with two parking spaces of distance between us, so I could hear every word. Now’s a good time, I thought. My legs were closed tight— an obvious camel toe was on display thanks to all my crotch digging. I threw my head back and clenched my fists, then muttered pathetically “Oh god I can’t hold it... Oh fuck…” Denise interrupted her inane babble, reeking with cruel anticipation “hold on— check out pee pee dansuh over here. She about to piss huhself!” She held up her phone camera at me and smirked. Her daughter, standing next to her, even looked up from her phone for once. I felt a warm trickle teeter just at the edge of my urethra. A loud burst rushed into my pants. “Uhhhh!” I shuttered. It was a forceful gush, but I cut it off quick, my chest heaving, and looked down to inspect. An obvious stain had spread up my crotch and around my inner thighs. It was small, but dark and glistening. Denise cackled menacingly, and chided some indecipherable commentary to her friend on the other line. I even heard her friend over speaker phone go “oh my god.” I sniffled and stammered meekly while covering my face (secretly loving every moment), “Oh shit… please… please don’t video me…” “Video you? Hah that’s a good idea!” Denise barked at her daughter, “Clarissuh! Get this on camrah! Could be used as evidence.” It was just too perfect. Sure enough, Clarissa raised her phone and blatantly began filming me, and Denise kept her phone trained on me for her friend to see. I shoved my hand into my still damp crotch and moaned. “Uhh… uhhh…” Then I let loose at full blast. Molten urine started spraying loudly against the inside of my jeans. “Uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh…” My clenched hand forced the stain rapidly up my fly all the way to my belt and then across to my pockets. I could feel surging warmth climb up my ass crack too. I watched as it spread, glistening, to the outer edge of my thighs and erupt out of the side seam of my jeans in a thick, golden arch, splattering on to the ground. I removed my hand and held it away from myself to let the piss trickle off my fingers. Then I uncovered my face and looked up, wide-eyed, straight at Denise. She stared smugly in a triumphant pose, enjoying every moment, and smiled. “Ooo you nasty. Serves you right, bitch.” I looked down at myself again. The stain began cascading down my legs, streaming almost on the outside of the tightly wrapped denim, and started soaking into my knitted leg warmers. “Oh my god,” I sensually shuddered. It felt so good to let loose at max pressure. Orgasmic even, with all that hot piss gushing over my clit. Hopefully my arousal wasn’t too obvious. A thick cloud of steam started to rise out of the massive, ever-darkening stain. I looked up into Clarissa’s camera, wondering if I would end up on her snapchat or twitter. Pee continued enveloping me in my jeans. Then the police officer suddenly appeared. “Are you alright, ma’am?” he looked at me, mortified, and still pissing a torrent. “Yeah, I… I just couldn’t hold it.” I sniffled, trying to look as helpless as possible. Mr. policeman watched in disbelief as pee started to pour from the tops of my boots. Then he noticed Denise and her daughter. “What the hell are you filming her for?” “Clarissuh keep that on!” Denise barked. “Listen I know my rights! I can film whoevuh I want! This is evidence!” Her friend on the other line chimed in “oooh she steamin’!” The officer stepped between us to block their view. “Jesus christ show some decency, will ya!” He turned to me and asked if I was going to be ok. I nodded my head, noticing the camera strapped to his shirt and wondering how much footage he had captured of my accident too. “Alright well I still need a few minutes to complete my report. You don’t need to engage with them at all.” He took one last timid glance down. “Let me know if you need anything.” And with that he went back to his car. By this point I had finished peeing and was standing in a small puddle. My leg warmers and boots were containing most of it (not to mention almost every inch of my super wet and steamy jeans.) I leaned back against my car feeling utterly relieved and quivering in the sweet afterglow, warm all over despite the evening winter chill. Then Denise, with her impossibly smug face, interjected, “All bettuh, pee pee dansuh?” I glowered at her. “Ha that looked like it felt good!” Clarissa even piped in, “Oh my gooooood!” Wheezy laughter was coming out of Denise’s phone, still trained on me. It’s disembodied voice beckoned to another faceless stranger, “Hey come here, come here. Look at what Denise seein’” I just stood there and face-palmed (with my piss-soaked hand, accidentally!!), breathing heavy, red in the face. After another minute of humiliating commentary I took a deep breath and wiped my hand on one of the few dry spots still on my jeans, and my now wet face with the neck of my sweater. My wet clothing had quickly gotten exceedingly cold, and begged to be removed. So I walked to the trunk of my car, pulled the towel out of my gym-bag and placed it over the drivers seat. Pee loudly squelched in my boots with every step. Denise suddenly said something that chilled me and turned me on all over again. “Man, haha, send me that video Clarissuh.” She was no longer filming. “I’m puttin’ that up on Facebook!” I wondered briefly if I was about to become an infamous internet icon. I sat on the towel with my legs dangling out the car door and started peeling off my boots and socks. Piss poured out of each boot when I upturned them. My socks were heavy, completely drenched. Denise and her posse continued to lambast me. Finally I’d had enough, “What is your problem, lady?!?!” “Next time why don’t you just piss yuh pants, huh? Instead of driving around all desperate!” So that’s how she wanted to paint it. Talk about desperate. I snapped back, hot tears in my eyes “Both of these accidents are because of you! You’re inconsiderate and rude!” Just then, during my righteous indignation, a pleasant sensation throbbed in my nether regions. Now relaxed and in a sitting posture, I realized that I still had to go. “God,” I sniffled, “I still have to go…” “Haaaahah! Yeah? Whats stoppin’ you??” Denise was having the time of her life. So was I. I stood up with my bare feet squared away, my legs parted slightly, and looked her dead in the eye. Determined. Defiant. Then I flexed my fingers, and my pelvic muscles, and felt a strong flood of piss fill up my jeans. My clit, previously numb against the freezing fabric, was once again submerged in a molten current. I involuntarily gasped with every wave of pleasure, my mouth opening more with every shuddered breath. The denim glistened and steamed again in its wake, and with no fabric dry enough to absorb it, pee began to gush out of the ankles of my jeans, noisily splattering onto the pavement below. “Damn, bitch, you nasty.” A much larger puddle was growing around my feet now. My second wind lasted about 30 seconds, much longer than I had anticipated. Finally the steady stream died down to a dribble, then to a slow drip. “There,” I sighed heavily with relief, exhausted. Denise and her daughter, staring in fascination, didn’t know quite what to say to that. I sat down in my car and closed the door, content to wait for the officer to finish his report. The temptation to pamper my swollen clit was strong, so in the privacy of my car I rubbed against the crotch inseam of my jeans with a straight face. Mr. Policeman talked to Denise first, as briefly as could be done and then promptly bid them good day. Then he walked up to me (unknowingly standing in my pee puddle), and handed me back my ID and insurance with his own business card wedged between them. He tried not to stare at the pants-sized stain while he went through his spiel. We parted amicably. He drove away shortly after that, leaving me alone in the parking lot pretending to have a phone call with my husband. Naturally, I proceeded to tear open my damp button fly and furiously masturbate. It didn’t take long to reach a paralyzing climax. That concludes my comeback story. I hope you liked it! Before you ask: no I never was able to find that video online, despite obsessively searching on every major platform. I suppose they thought better of posting it– maybe they figured out it made them look like total jerks! Or maybe it only exists on some private board devoid of any omo enthusiasts like us. Whatever its fate I hope it doesn’t surface any time soon. In hindsight I regret doing something like that on camera, as lovely as I’m sure it made me look. Sorry but I don’t think I could ever share that side of me online in a non-anonymous way– writing under pseudonym is about the farthest I’ll probably ever go. Anyways, share all of your compliments and spread the word about my return. This was one of the hottest wetting experiences I’ve ever had– to be honest nothing really tops it. Nevertheless, I look forward to publishing more stories for you guys! Until next time! Kyuu, ThreadbareOmo, bublyblue and 18 others 12 6 3 Quote Link to comment
Sirwetsalot 135 Posted December 6, 2021 Share Posted December 6, 2021 Wow, that is a very very nice fictional story. TheSenatesOmo, Aleli54, knockonthedoor and 1 other 3 1 Quote Link to comment
ThreadbareOmo 585 Posted December 6, 2021 Share Posted December 6, 2021 Welcome back! Quote Link to comment
KozmoFox 5,644 Posted December 7, 2021 👮 Moderator Share Posted December 7, 2021 Gonna be real clear here. I don't believe a single word of this. Not one. Despite the fact that you added a "disclaimer" that its "made up" its obvious how, almost borderline snarkily and disdainfully, you're trying to pass this off as legitimate in a wink wink nudge nudge fashion in direct disrespect for forum rules....despite the fact that a preschooler could come up with more convincing piss hunting walmart hillbillies. Luckily for you, not only do I not believe you, I double dog don't believe you. I disbelieve you on multiple layers. So despite the multiple reports I've gotten on this post asking to take it down, I did the only thing I deemed appropriate. I moved this post to the fiction section. 😛 OmoL, fullbladergirl, The Dark Wolf and 2 others 4 1 Quote Link to comment
scinosensation 543 Posted December 7, 2021 Share Posted December 7, 2021 If this story is fiction, am I the only one who finds it horrifically offensively racist? If it is not fiction why claim that it is? TheGreatNobody 1 Quote Link to comment
scinosensation 543 Posted December 7, 2021 Share Posted December 7, 2021 (edited) 1 hour ago, AquaVitae said: Unless I missed something, I don't think anyone's race was mentioned or alluded to. You might be reading into the accents a bit too much. The more places you visit, the more you'll realize that sort of spelling could apply to many accents. But again I might have missed the clearly obvious racism you mentioned so I'm happy to be corrected. Mr. @AquaVitaeThis description is what got my attention: “She was a stout black lady with a disheveled wig, an enormous bosom, and a mean look in her eye. Her teenage daughter was with her.” This description to me seems stereotypical of the skin color economically disadvantaged people about which there has been so much drama in the US. It describing the woman’s skin color did nothing to add to the story. Having endured social discrimination because of my religion for over 4 years at the beginning of my career, then again social discrimination because of my skin color for 18 months, and finally the discrimination that people with disabilities (I suffered a spinal cord injury the first effect was loss of abilities to control bowel,and bladder function, the gradually loss of ability to walk) probably have made me more sensitive than most to,whatbImfound offensive about this self described fictional work. Edited December 7, 2021 by scinosensation (see edit history) TheGreatNobody 1 Quote Link to comment
KozmoFox 5,644 Posted December 7, 2021 👮 Moderator Share Posted December 7, 2021 @scinosensationThat is completely fair! While I disagree with such a thing adding nothing to the story (more representation isn't a bad thing and detailed descriptors help paint the minds eye) but I do agree that every single part of the description other than that can be considered an almost old-timey racist caricature. Its kinda messed up, now that you've pointed it out. Anxious and scinosensation 2 Quote Link to comment
TheGreatNobody 508 Posted December 10, 2021 Share Posted December 10, 2021 Also the fact that there has to be a trans-lay-shun (that means translation for those who don't understand this inferior accent) for the stereotypically portrayed black woman who talks weird and different... Not a great look. scinosensation, Amyl and Anxious 3 Quote Link to comment
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