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Okay, the story of my first unplanned wetting this weekend. I was at a festival, somewhat late at night, with a good friend. We had been drinking beer and we had also been sharing a large mixed drink in a 1.5 litre water bottle. We were both pretty drunk, the music was great, and we were having a fantastic time, but all those liquids were starting to catch up to me and I could feel a growing pleasant pressure in my bladder. My friend wasn't showing any signs of desperation yet - figures - I have an overactive bladder so I always feel it first and worse. At this point in the evening, we had just finished hearing a concert and had headed to a busy street that was closed off for the festival, which was packed with people  queuing up to get into clubs or dancing in small street parties outside. I tried to hold on a little because I knew my friend - lets call her Sarah - wanted to get into a club. But soon I felt the first wave of desperation hit me and I felt a couple drops escape. Nothing major, just enough to dampen my underwear, but enough to make me alert Sarah that I needed to find a bathroom.

This next part is going to sound like an omo cliche - I'm aware because as it was happening that was the first thing I thought: is this actually for real? We asked if I could use the bathroom at an A&W, it was closed. At a Wendy's: closed. Starbucks: not available unless you bought something. I considered it, but I was worried I could lose control in the line inside and I told Sarah that, so we kept looking. We tried a convenience store but they didn't even have a washroom (they probably just didn't want us to use it). It seemed that literally establishment we tried had closed their bathrooms for the festival weekend, a real smart move when there would be tons of people drinking alcohol and getting desperate. So Sarah decided we should try a club with a shorter line, even though it wasn't the one we wanted to go to. Since it was an emergency, she thought maybe I could just go in, use the washroom and then find the club we wanted to go to after. 

The line  was shorter than most of the other clubs, but it was still a good 15 or 20 minutes, and I started feeling more and more of the telltale waves of intense desperation that come with overactive bladder. I was drunk, so I was having a hard time hiding them on my face and in my body language, and with each wave, I felt my sphincter  get a little closer to giving up. On the next wave, I resolved myself to release a few trickles into my pants, just to ease off the pressure. I waited, chatting with Sarah, and like clockwork, the familiar wave hit. Perhaps overreacting to the promise of what I was about to do, I felt my tired sphincter give up and the floodgates release all on their own. Splash, my bladder released all at once, filling my underwear, flooding my dark cargo pants, and streaming right down my legs into my shoes. Thankfully, the music and the din of people talking all around us in the crowd was quite loud, so Sarah somehow didn't hear the flood of me pissing my pants, RIGHT beside her. The people in line behind us must have seen though, because those cargo pants glisten like nobody's business when wet, and there were definitely streams splashing onto the concrete for a solid several seconds.

Realizing there was no point in hiding the obvious, I nudged Sarah and giggled,

"I just peed my pants". Just matter of fact. What else was I supposed to say? It was obvious enough if you looked and it would be more embarrassing if I didn't just own it.

I distinctly remember her asking, "like a lot or a little". Well it was supposed to be a little... "Let's just say I don't have to pee at all anymore".

Her eyes got wide and she laughed again, looking down to examine my wet pants. She never looked disgusted or grossed out, just amused. "I bet if you told them you pissed yourself they'd let you jump the line and go in to change," she suggested.

"Yeah I'm not gonna do that," I laughed.

We decided to just leave the line and make our way back through the busy  crowd, me in my soaked cargo pants, toward the club we had been wanting to go to. It was a half hour wait, but I assured Sarah I didn't mind as long as I got to change eventually. It was dark, my pants were dark, and most people were drunk and totally consumed with themselves, so nobody paid attention. The cooling pee against the night breeze felt lovely on my legs and crotch and I was able to change when we got into the club. I had come prepared and brought a pair of short, loose black shorts - these ones quick dry. We'd been drinking more in the line though, and some water too to stay hydrated, so those shorts didn't stay dry for long. I wouldn't have left a mess for people to slip in/clean up in the club,  but I did release enough dribbles in my shorts while dancing throughout the night to nicely dampen my bum and since the shorts were loose, some streaks escaped onto my thighs. 

As the night wore on, Sarah ended up kissing me and once my shorts had dried a bit, we danced with our bodies pressed together. I don't know if she was into me wetting, or just didn't think it was a big deal, but we certainly didn't let it put a damper (haha) on a great night.

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