Jump to content
Existing user? Sign In

Sign In



Sign Up

female Anonymous Pee Accident Stories


Recommended Posts

 

I have some old pee related stories from my country's past forum (Like Shara and Ger's, but not English). I will translate stories with google if you like. That omo forum and it's stories have now vanished. Writers were anonymous. Some of them had written as genuine, but mostly they were fiction.

First one is a hitchhiker fiction story from there.  Like above I have only google translated it and fixed the biggest errors. Lazy as I am 🙂.

 

 

PICK UP THE GIRL FROM THE DITCH


I drove from north to south during summer vacation. I had rented a cabin for a few days and spent the time grilling, fishing and swimming. The work would only start after a couple of weeks and I felt rested and liberated. I decided to deviate from the boring highway at the larger municipal center and went to fill up both my car and myself at the service station. After the ice cream enjoyed at the market, I jumped into the car seat again refreshed and continued the journey.


I ran towards the bus stop and my heart beat two hundred. The bus was already moving. The driver had no intention of slowing down let alone stopping for me. I watched as the back of the bus disappeared from view and I felt the pain in my throat. I threw my backpack on the bench of the bus stop shelter and dug out my phone. I started looking for information when the next bus would pass through this shanty town. At the same time, I saw a car approaching out of the corner of my eye. Instinctively, I raised my hand and gave a thumbs up.


It was a spur of the moment to stop on the side of the road. Maybe it was the hurt and discouraged expression that was evident in the girl's eyes. The influence could also be a beautiful face and an impressive body, as well as the desire to have a short time travel companion. I hadn't even seen a hitchhiker in years. As the girl approached the car, I waited for a boy friend to join her from behind the bus stop shelter, but it never came. I pointed the girl to the car seat next to me and greeted the young traveler.


The car smelled of leather and coniferous forest. The man with the bed beard was older than it had appeared at first glance. Probably over forty, but safe. His voice was soft and kind. Being late for the bus was no longer annoying. The man was going to the same place where the concert area was located. I could get there with the same ride and for free. By the time I got to the bus, I would have had to change halfway to another line or step on the train.


The girl answered the questions briefly. Usually with just one word like yep, yes or no. He was sipping water frequently from a bottle that he dug out from time to time from his light backpack with the fell fox logo on it. She was fair-haired, but had dark long eyelashes and clear lines around her eyes. Otherwise, I couldn't detect make-up on the face. No tattoos were visible on the arms revealed by the gray sleeveless top, although the girl said that she had taken one picture of her skin the very same spring when she came of adult age.
 
On the back seat of the car were a couple of big equipment bags and three tubes, which I knew were intended for storing rods. I had seen similar ones with my father's fly fishing friend. Landscapes flashed in the window and pop music played on the radio. Everything was pretty good, the trip went smoothly and the man made sure that there were no quiet, annoying moments. Only one thing pressed. I had chased the bus in a hurry and jumped on board in a pretty bad need to pee. I realized that I had gone to the bathroom for the last time in the morning. I didn't want to bother the man to stop for a break right after getting me on board.


She stopped sipping the water and put the bottle in her backpack. The girl began to move with difficulty and just quietly followed the scenery. She had begun to sigh and I began to suspect something was wrong. After driving on the highway for a long time, I noticed the girl pressing on her lower stomach and asked if we should stop for a break. She seemed to think for a moment, but shook her head. I turned the bow of the car onto the junction that led to the highway.


We started to approach big cities in the south and I knew the destination was approaching. I had believed that I would make it all the way there without a break. I had stated that I didn't need breaks, but we had driven onto the highway and that seemed to be enough. The kilometers passed slowly and only a few three-letter service station signs had told about the possibility of stopping near the highway. I began to regret not raising the matter in time. The emergency began to be greater than ever. My bladder felt like a water-filled balloon like the ones we used to toss as children in the summer. Soon I would have to ask.


The girl had been sitting tense and bent forward for a long time. Sometimes she kept her hand between her thighs. There was no longer any doubt that she needed a pee break. We were already close to our destination when the girl started asking if we could stop. There were few places to stop on the motorway. I knew of a small roadside cafe at the end of the highway section just before the city. I suggested stopping there and the girl got a troubled smile on her lips.


I stomped my feet on the floor and pressed my knees together. The cafe was already familiar from the times when I had gone on a city vacation with my parents. The long straights continued and the pressure in the bladder increased. Finally, the car turned off the main road into the parking lot and a distantly familiar building from years ago could be seen next to the road in the middle of the willows. The car stopped and I had some difficulties to find the door handle. I squealed in panic as I felt a tug on my panties. The man reached over me and opened the door. I ran towards the front doors and hoped my pale blue jeans stayed dry.
 
I helped the panicking young woman out of the vehicle. The door slammed shut, and in a glimpse I could see a small tattooed pattern on the skin of the lower back, which I deduced to be her zodiac sign. The slender girl's small and round denim butt swayed as she pulled open the cafe's front door and rushed inside with determination. I calmly locked the car in the roadside parking lot and walked inside the roadside cafe.


The cafe was full of people of different ages dressed in summer clothes. I ran towards the toilet corridor next to the sales counter. The door codes had patterns that could tell the genders. Fortunately, there was no queue for either toilet. The door of the toilet had a traditional handle and the sign color below it looked red. I cursed in my mind but still tried. Locked. At the same time I leaked! The thought was cut off completely. There was a gray cloud in my head and I stepped between the men's and women's restroom doors. I felt a tingling sensation all over my body. A warm feeling in my inner thighs and behind my knees. When even the inside of the sneakers felt wet, I realized something really embarrassing had happened. I just couldn't get it to stop. Pee still ran in my pants!


The girl was in the bathroom corridor, bent over towards the door, looking at me like a scared puppy. Her pale skin-tight jeans were soaked up to his ankles. The dark blue was still spreading in the light denim. An elderly customer came through the door of the men's restroom and was about to bump into a girl. The man was horrified and apologized for the damage as he walked around the puddle on the tile floor. My beautiful traveling companion didn't know where to put her hands as she tried to cover her wet and still darkening pants. In the hall, the little girl shouted to her mother about the woman who peed her pants. When other customers' eyes began to focus one by one on the toilet corridor and sighs and wonderings started to be heard from the tables, I decided to act. I coaxed the shocked girl out.


I covered my face with my hands. The thought had begun to flow. I only had a spare undies in my backpack and my only jeans were soaking wet. There was no such thing as a rock festival now. The man had coaxed me back into the car and wrapped some plastic bag to protect a leather seat under me. I had just peed my pants like a little brat. The cry came from sadness. How could I have been so stupid as not to open my mouth in time.


I suggested a visit to my house so that my little hitchhiker could shower and we could wash and dry her wet clothes. The car smelled faintly of pee. The girl sobbed with her hands over her eyes the rest of the way and spread her dark eye make-up on her cheeks. I tried to console and focus on driving at the same time. I have to admit that I was turned on by all this and all I wanted to do was hug my companion and press my hands on his wet firm buttocks.


I got into the man's townhouse apartment and immediately started to peel off my wet tight jeans. I didn't mind the man's stare. I left the gray cotton panties on until the man directed me to his bathroom. The shower made it all easier and I got a soft big towel around my body.
 
The girl was in the bathroom and I looked at the skinny jeans she took off on the floor. I recognized a familiar pocket pattern. I had been able to admire her butt wrapped in them both dry and wet and was quite impressed by what I saw. The shower stopped and the girl came out of the bathroom refreshed. I carried the wet jeans to the washing machine and asked the girl to throw her underwear in there as well.


We waited for the quick program of the washing machine to finish. The man had been strangely interested in my pee clothes. I brushed and dried my hair. I smiled and made him smile too. I sat on the sofa next to the man and hugged him. The man wrapped his arms around me and we collapsed on the corner sofa...

 

Link to comment

 

 

Next one was written as a "real story", but name changed.

 

ACHARA - The Berry Girl

Nineteen-year-old Achara was the most diligent of the Thai pickers and still picked good quality berries. I had noticed her also because of her beauty. The dark copper colored skin was uniformly smooth and flawless. She had a captivating smile and big cat-like eyes. From the beginning, she wanted to talk to our family, even though her language skills were nothing but bad English.

She was the only breadwinner for her family working in here North Europe. One of the older sisters had worked in a fishing port with a much better salary, but was staying there in the fishing village after marrying a local man. The rest of the big family in Thailand needed more money. We named her "Sara", more suitable for us, when to our delight she was able to come to our berry farm for another summer as well.

My husband and I picked up our pickers from the airport and Achara's smile with her white teeth shone from far away in the middle of the group of pickers. Her clothing arsenal, which the previous summer had only consisted of baggy fleece-type outdoor clothes and worn leotards, had now received an addition. She was wearing a floral top and almost white tight capri-length tan jeans without back pockets.

Achara had studied languages during the winter and learned more all the time during the summer. She still picked the most closely in her group. Since she had learned our language, she could also be used as an interpreter, and during the summer Sara became something of a leader among the pickers. All matters were handled largely through her and they also went well to the group.

We family members handled the sale of the berries ourselves. We had points in a couple of different parking lots. One beautiful day at the end of summer, my children already wanted time off from sales work and suggested Achara to the second point. Her language skills would be sufficient and everyone considered her reliable and smart to work with money as well.

"Sara" gladly agreed to this and quickly learned the actions related to this task. I left her from our van in the market parking lot with the berries. On a hot summer day, there was also another entrepreneur's ice cream stand there, but no other activity. My husband went to the parking lot of another nearby village to handle the same thing. Achara had my phone number in case of any problems. I myself went to the farm to manage sales, supervise pickers and pack berry boxes. As a guide, I just gave her to sell everything and take care of the money box.

In the afternoon I went to see the situation at the point of sale. Sara had snacks and a big bottle of water. She didn't think she needed a break either. She could eat and drink when there were no customers. She also had a book, but she said that there had been enough customers on a regular basis and she couldn't concentrate on reading.

I followed the Thai girl's body language and I think there was something nervous about it. She normally moved with short, scurrying steps, but now she seemed to be pacing back and forth behind her sales desk. With a woman's instinct, I could have sworn that she had a severe urge to pee, but you can't even suggest going to the bathroom to an adult based on what you see, if the other person doesn't bring it up themselves.

I said again that you can call me if there is any problem. Sara kept smiling her captivating smile. Long black, straight and shiny hair came out in a ponytail from the back hole of the cap. Otherwise, she was dressed representatively just like when she traveled in her floral top, three-striped sneakers and tight capris.

During the afternoon, I received a call on my phone. Sara sounded troubled. She said the berries would run out soon and that I could pick her up. "Very soon!", she added. I set off in my van after I got the last boxes piled up and I must have arrived within half an hour. I could see right away that something was wrong. Behind Achara, a couple of little boys were rolling in a circle on their dirt bikes, and they seemed to have more fun to watch than eating their ice creams. The Thai girl stood behind the sales desk very serious and tearfully. She repeated to me "So sorry, so sorry!".


There was a wet puddle on the asphalt next to Sara's sneakers, from which a clear yellowish stream flowed towards the ice cream kiosk further down in the market park. She turned her back to me and pointed a finger at his round, solid jeans bum. It was soaking wet halfway down. Likewise the inner thighs and the backs of the knees. There was no doubt what had happened. "I am so, so, sorry, Madam!" she continued. That sight and the tearful apology of the young beautiful woman made my blood stop. I so wanted to touch and help her immediately. However, I managed the situation somehow in my own head and comforted Achara with just words.


I told her to go into the cabin of the van out of sight. I piled the things in the back of the vehicle and carried Sara to her place with a towel around her hips, so that others on the farm wouldn't see her embarrassing condition. In the same evening, I remembered Achara's accident and caressed myself into my wet dreams. I had never seen a similar and equally exciting situation. And I would hardly ever going to see again.


After one day of shyness, Achara went about her business again as before and behaved normally with me. Even today, I don't know why the young woman didn't tell about her distress and ask to go to the bathroom. Was it somehow embarrassing in her culture, or did she just believe she could hold off the entire sales period. The second time we didn't put her in a sales job, and the accident wasn't even talked about.
 

Link to comment

 

Well, I am picking these "told as a real" stories first. Next one. I changed her name more international.

 

MY MEMORABLE EXCURSION TRIP

 

Years ago I was a college based secondary school student in process and chemistry. My class had agreed visits to two different work places and the class supervisor had ordered a bus to the school yard right after the meal. The rest of the day was supposed to be spent at the largest employers in our area in the nearby municipalities. The excursion trips was supposed to arrange first to the power plant and then to the brewery. However, the schedule changed at the last minute and the order of visits changed.

At the end of the brewery tour, we also got to see and taste the products. Drinks could be drunk freely for a certain period of time in the brewery's own bar. Changing this to the early afternoon didn't sound good to anyone, but the most important thing was that the visit was organized at all. We got to the brewery and after the tour, we were actually guided into a cozy dark space. We briskly drank various beverage products and water in between, washing out our taste buds.

After half an hour of fresh tasting, some could already see small signs of drunkenness. My friend Tia's phone rang and she left the commotion of the bar outside to make a call to her boyfriend while emptying her cider bottle. She managed to empty several of them before that though. While she was out the rest of us received a light signal and an order to leave the bar. 
Our host showed us the toilets and we were able to relieve ourselves before getting back on the bus. Tia was still talking outside on the phone when we were walking to the bus. We waved her along and headed towards the next destination. The schedule change had made our program tighter.

The journey had not been completed for a long time when Tia left next to me towards the bus toilet. The driver noticed this and announced that there was no way to go to the bathroom. It was not operational. The bathroom door was locked and Tia humbly returned to her seat with red cheeks. The journey continued and Tia complained that she had drunk too much. The emergency was so great that she held her hand between her legs and sat bent forward.

We arrived at the power plant and our teacher, who was the tour leader, announced the operation manager of the power plant who was jumping on the bus at the gate. He would explain the process on a tour of the bus while it toured the buildings and lines of the plant area. Tia moaned next to me.


"I can not wait!" she whispered "I'm going to piss myself!" 


Tia gestured and shouted at the teacher that she hadn't had time to go to the bathroom at the brewery. She asked permission to pee first. The operations manager who boarded the bus answered that the tour would not last long and then everyone could go inside the main building's bathroom and get to know the operation of the facility in the meeting room presentation. 


"An adult person can certainly hold that time." added our class teacher with a laugh.

The bus went around the area, stopping in front of different buildings. Girl next to me cursed and hissed at every stop. Tia's long dark brown wavy hair was already touching her knees when she was sitting in the stooping position. She was fighting against getting her pants wet. It was a pity, but at the same time I found myself interested in how a normally very self-confident and even a bit loud-mouthed young woman would behave if the accident actually happened.


When the bus finally stopped in front of the main door, all the students got up to speed. Our class was quite female-dominated and many people ran towards the doors. Tia couldn't keep up with the others, having to walk stooping forward and more carefully with her hand on her lower stomach. From the door, our guide pointed to the direction of the women's toilet to the left and the men to the right. 


"No, no, nooo! Let me first!" shouted Tia, but many girls got ahead.

Only two cubicles in the women's room did not shorten the queue very fast.


Tia squirmed in front of me in the line in her new shiny black jeans, which she seemed to have plenty of in her closet. At school I had never seen her wear anything other than blue, white or black skinny jeans and a denim jacket and boots. Like that day. Tia was into powerlifting and martial arts and it showed in her body, which was quite muscular and sinewy for a woman.


"Shall we go to the men's room?" I asked when I saw Tia's expression and pain.

It was as if a lightning had flashed in her bright blue eyes, when she nodded in agreement. 


"Otherwise it will be in my pants." she answered.


We walked to the other end of the corridor and sneaked into the men's room. On the way Tia had already unbuckled her leather belt. 
Only one separate cubicle and a chute for boys. Booth was occupied and Tia knocked on the door. She was pee dancing in front of me and shouted almost crying voice. 


"Come out... soon... please..."


There was no answer. As if in a frenzy, Tia started kicking the long-sleeved leather boots off her feet.


"F..k, no!" She let out a squeal.

Pee forced its way through the black denim making it glistening and soaking her toe socks! It was too late to take off the jeans. Tia just stood shocked and looked at her toes. The pee was still dripping onto the tile floor and it was starting to form a pool under her.


I calculated that I had seen all the male students in our class in the corridor. There was still no noise inside the cubicle and I tried the door knob. It was open and the booth was empty, although the color of the door knob was red. I stepped in. I peed and listened to the silence outside. When I came out, Tia was sitting on the floor back against the wall and the phone to her ear.


"Pick me up from here, now!" Tia ordered into the phone.


 "I had a pee accident and it's your fault!" she continued.

"Damn it, don't believe me, but I really have a piss in my pants now and you're coming to get me!"


She forced her boyfriend to go on a search trip. She couldn't get on the bus, and she couldn't get out of the bathroom either. She was really mad and angry.


"I won't show my wet ass to those whores and perverts!" she scolded me angrily "They didn't let me in first, even though I nicely asked. You tell them I didn't feel well and I left home."


Later from the meeting room, we saw Tia finally leave the main door with a denim jacket on her hips. She stayed on the side of the road under a park tree kicking small stones and waiting for her own ride. 


Hardly anyone accepted the explanation for the sudden bad feeling, but this brunette was so stubborn and tough young woman, as far as I know, they didn't even dare to remind her about the case afterwards. 


Of course I noticed that whenever things turned to toilet talk at class parties or during breaks Tia became quiet and serious. The public accident as an adult definitely left a mark on her.
 

 

Link to comment

 

Story of the day:

 

A BARMAID'S CONFESSION 

At the time, in my thirties I was a co-owner in a bar. In practice, it meant that I was a bartender, a waitress, a cook and everything else in turn. Just like the other workers there. Our restaurant showed sports on canvas and TV, and there were also different theme nights invented for different days. We offered small snacks, mostly wings, french fries, burgers and that kind of bar food. All of us took turns making meals.


In appearance, I am small and peppy. At my work place I keep my short hair under control with a beanie, only my long front hair tends to stick out. Our work clothes were just the bar's uniform black tight t-shirt and blue worn out tight fitting bootcut jeans, with the help of which I used to get tips.

One particular sports event came up to us as a bit of a surprise. Quite a lot of customers came to watch it in the middle of the week. The beer sold well and so did the meals. As it was already late in the evening we started to worry about whether there would be enough food supplies. The wholesale was closing soon. Of the three waiters, I was the one who had her own car at the parking place. It wasn't nice to leave others in trouble, because there was enough of a queue at the counter, but someone had to leave anyway.

I realized in the car that I hadn't had time during my whole shift even for that one smoke outside, which I still allowed myself back then. Otherwise, I had already pretty much got rid of tobacco. I hadn't even had time to take a bathroom break. I was so full that I thought the bubble of pee was pressing out of my forehead.

When collecting things and shopping in the wholesale shop I started to feel really heavy in my lower abdomen. In the cold room, I was already close to wetting my panties. At the cash register, I had to ask about the possibility of using the women's room, but there wasn't one for the customers, and I didn't dare to start haggling  and begging for access to the staff's side. I was still very sure I can make it back to the bar toilet. I just waited for driving back soon, because sitting position has always been fine for me to hold myself.

I got out and piled stuff in the car's tailgate. When I bent over and reached deeper into the box, I realized I was wetting my pants! And to me, that doesn't mean any little leakage. I can't stop when it runs out. The situation was all too familiar from drunk evenings. As a drunken my pee holding has always been quite unfortunate. Especially after giving birth to my second child. I looked around to see that no one saw my bad moment. It was definitely the first and only time as a sober that I wet my pants!

I had to drive home. Kids and husband were in, but I slipped in the bathroom without noticing by them. I threw my almost totally wet panties and jeans in the laundry basket. A quick shower and I tried to find a pair of jeans that looked as similar as possible. 


I had already developed an explanation about the spilled wing sauce as the reason for changing my clothes and dropping by the house during work hours, but luckily no one at work asked anything during the evening.


In the smoking booth though, the changed work jeans got long looks from regular customers who stayed there as well as my colleagues. Maybe I was just imagining it or they just looked so good on me!
 

Edited by MissMiniMe (see edit history)
Link to comment

 

This is the last "told as a real". 

 

 

MY UNLUCKY SUMMER DAY


I have a long career behind me as an athlete, later as a coach and today also as a journalist. As an athlete, I often experienced difficult moments on long trips to performance venues. The body had to be hydrated well and of course that always caused the need to pee frequently. I don't remember ever having any difficulties during the performances. The focus on performance was so comprehensive. No pee accidents ever happened.


As a coach, monitoring long training sessions is also problematic in my sport. I work in an outdoor sport where toilets are not always available. If so, they are often porta potties, which to us women are an abomination. However, I learned to act in a certain way so that I wouldn't get into difficult situations. Also, as a reporter, you always have to plan things, check toilet availability and schedules precisely. Otherwise, you could be in big troubles with schedules especially of the camera sessions.


Still, it happened as it happened to me also. It feels really unfair and I'm telling my story so that it would bring comfort to others who have experienced the pee accident. Sometimes world just rounds that way.


I'm a kind person and I can easily get excited about anything new. I agree too easily to requests from friends. That time it was the biggest reason.

So, I had finished my own career and started coaching. There was a big event in my sport near my home and I had promised to be an expert for the local television broadcast. I am not going to describe my sport or this event in more detail because I don't want be recognized in public. Such a small world. Of course, those who witnessed the incident recognize me, but that doesn't matter. After all, they already know about my case.


I knew I was going to perform on the broadcast also visually for a moment and I dressed as casually as possible on a warm day. I had a light gray pencil skirt and a pretty lace top on me. I got there on time and started watching the events in the crowd. I enjoyed the sun and drank a lemonade. I talked with the parents of the girls I was coaching and walked around the area.


There was still a lot of time before the broadcast and the main event. Then I ran into members of the leadership group of my club. They said that the responsible coach of the junior girls had fallen ill at a bad time. Before the main event, it was time for their performance. I promised to monitor their performance and take care of their maintenance. After all, I had that much time. No other club officials were present either.


More and more people arrived all the time. I realized that my urge to pee had increased, but there had been quite a queue for the public toilets due to the public refueling at the beer tent. Due to their hydration, the athletes were also in the same queues before their performance.


I spent my time supervising the junior team members. When I gave post-performance feedback to the girls' captain, she asked if I was ok. That's when I realized that I had been too kind and let my need to pee too far. I may have seemed nervous. I had no time to wait in the line of the porta potty even if I wanted to. The schedule was tight and I marched towards the press area. I thought I'd get into the real ladies' room there. 


I met the commentator in advance to agree how we work together. I heard that I would be in the same studio with him.Studio was some kind of shipping container. The broadcast started a little earlier than I expected. I asked for the possibility to quickly use the toilets of the local television production first. The answer was a big shock. I heard there weren't any! We just put the headphones on our ears and we started.


My legs jiggled and wiggled as I sat throughout the broadcast. I just wanted to wait in line, but of course I couldn't do nothing but suffer. I hoped that my voice wouldn't shake. Or my feet stepping wouldn't be heard on the broadcast. I shifted my position on the chair repeatedly and tensed my lower muscles whole time. The competition seemed to go on endlessly, but I managed to make it to the end. As soon as we finished the commentating, I ran out towards toilets.


At the end of the competition, the queues were long again. I couldn't cut in line. I danced and squirmed. I was embarrassed and I hoped the worst wouldn't happen. I realized I couldn't wait there if it really happens in front of all those people. I walked towards the edge of the area near the forest. There were less people around. I tried to hide and pee behind the service building.


Sadly I didn't make it. A drop or two slipped out with every step. In the end, I just stood and watered the grass under me. I felt the wetness of the lace panties. I hoped my skirt wouldn't show any wet spots. My pencil skirt was skin-tight and reached above the knees. Thin fabric didn't get wet from the front, but it did from the back. I was fortyone and there I stood in my pissed knickers!


There was still a final interview in the middle of the event area with the reporter left. I wandered around the side paths in the direction of the cameraman and commentator. I had to admit that I hadn't made it to the bathroom. I couldn't be in front of the camera. Audience could see something wet on my skirt if I am turning. The cameraman said it wouldn't be a problem. It would only be filmed from the waist up. And yeah, I really made the end of the local TV broadcast in pee-pee undies! 


We decided to let it be a big secret for the viewers.


I don't think that my accident was noticed by anyone else than the cameraman and the reporter. They both promised not to tell anyone because they wanted me to continue as an sports expert in the future. I received thanks for the professionalism and afterwards, having seen the broadcast, I really cannot see anything suspicious. I was so calm.


Clothes dried in a minutes and I drove home. I told about the bad luck timetables and an incident they caused to my life partner. I knew she was not keen on wetting related things like me. I've always hoped she experienced similar accident as I just had and a few times she had made me happy and "accidentally" leaked for me in private. 


Now she was just amused and said how I was a victim for my own desires! Destiny? Maybe.

Edited by MissMiniMe (see edit history)
Link to comment

 

Back to fiction...

 

LENE'S FIRST STAKEOUT GIG


Her shiny red-brown long hair was tied in a bun on the top of her head. It made the more than 170 centimeter tall Norwegian origin Lene standing at the coffee machine look even taller than usual. Several of the more experienced officers of The Criminal Police were either on vacation or sick. It made her believe that she could be on the field this time too.


During her studies Lene had received top grades and she had not had to work for a long time in the overalls of the order police. However, the work in the criminal police was spent in the office using the laptop and the cell phone effectively. Things were verified and information was sought. Comparing the material used as evidence and its kind. The work was primarily office work for all of them and it included interviewing witnesses. Sometimes, less frequently, also interrogations of criminal suspects. After a long period of paperwork Lene sometimes also missed the field.


Tony, with a mustache and in his fifties, came out of the chief's room. His partner was sick and the boss had suggested Lene along to shadow the main perpetrator of a criminal group suspected of drug trafficking. On the other hand, the idea sounded good. Lene was younger and would fit in well with the criminal's clientele. However, Tony thought Lene was inexperienced.


He looked at Lene, who was sipping her coffee from a large cardboard mug and leaning against the vending machine while standing in a polo shirt. The woman was undeniably physically fit. There was no makeup on her face, but her extended eyelashes and polished fingernails did not convince the man. The appearance reminded he of a fitness model showing off her butt on the internet rather than a police officer. Especially when walking down the aisle in her high heeled boots, swinging her hips. This week's Lene had crammed her small round bum into light blue super skinny jeans.


The decision about the gig had to be made quickly. The suspect had been seen in the center of the city in a bar popular with younger people. The information had come from a so-called calf. The man had not been seen in a while and the mistake could not be made of sending policemen in overalls to the scene. Much more was found out at this stage by following the man from the side. Who would he meet and where would he lead them after him. The work had to be done subtly as a couple. Tony had made his decision. He shouted to Lene to leave now.


This is what Lene had hoped for. She threw her empty disposable cup in the trash and took tight black leather jacket over the back of the chair with her. They entered the elevator and began to descend towards the parking cave. Tony sat in the driver's seat of a civilian car and smelled the denim-scented perfume from the side of Lene in the car. That smell had always  made him wild. Now he had to focus on driving even more closely.


The suspect was only known to them from photos. This situation had already been discussed in meetings beforehand and they both knew how to act. Lene rushed into the bar where the man had been met. Tony waited outside in the car and would take photos of the people the man met when they came out. It didn't take long for Lene to recognize the suspect. The young woman ordered a cola and sat down to sip it in the best possible place. She saw a man who still had no direct line of sight to herself.
The suspect was still alone and reading the afternoon paper. Lene was focused on her phone. It wasn't even pretend. She used it to keep in touch with her police colleague.


An hour passed and nothing changed. The man had not met anyone. Just drank his beer and read the paper. Lene's second cola with ice had also been drunk. Had to pee a bit, but there was no way to go to the bathroom now. Lene asked Tony to switch tasks. Colleague didn't like the idea. He didn't fit in with the bar's clientele. They just had to be patient.


It didn't take long before it started happening. A young bald guy crashed into the same table as the suspect. They talked to each other, but Lene didn't see the item changing hands. The story was enough for a long time, and Lene had also picked up a magazine so that it would seem like she had something to do. She didn't dare drink any more. The coffee and coke had filled his bladder into a water tank that was about to explode. She had started to gather looks. There had even been an attempt to get closer, but Lene had politely pushed the young man on his way, telling him that she was waiting for company.


Lene started to have a hard time, but she didn't want to take the risk that one or the other of the followers would have run away during the toilet visit without Tony knowing. If a man in his fifties could wait in a car for several hours, why not a young woman too. Lene laughed at Tony's message, in which the followers were humorously divided in case the men left at different times or in different directions.


Tony took photos from the door when the bald man suddenly left the restaurant. After a while, Lene jumped after him with her long legs. They were soon followed by the original suspect, whom Tony targeted. He left a car on the side of the road.


The tension made Lene feel worse. He didn't know how long she would have to hold. The guy she was following had adventures in a book store and a grocery store. Lene followed him as had been taught. Far enough and invisibly. According to the messages, Tony was following his own target in the same direction. 


During the evening they ended up in the same park closer to the port. Lene was moving with her legs crossed already. She hadn't pissed in her pants as an adult and she thought it would not be possible. However, the emergency was now greater than ever and the pressure almost unbearable. A gig had last hours. Much longer than Lene had expected.


The people being followed were sitting on the same park bench and it was obvious from everything that the goods would now change hands. Hands were in the jacket pockets and the dumplings placed on the bench slipped into different pockets. At the same time, Tony, walking from the edge of the park to the platform, called for backup for the arrest, which would be carried out by uniformed police officers. 


Lene was standing on the street corner in the other direction. The release of tension caused an incredible pressure wave in the lower abdomen. The clear liquid penetrated the already damp panties, soaking the butt cheeks and inner thighs of the jeans in a second!


Lene was frozen in place, and the flow could not be stopped. The backs of the knees, long legs and even socks in her leather ankle boots started to get wet. The dark surface spread over the skin-tight denim. People passing by looked on, some in horror, some in admiration, as an attractive tall woman peed in her pants in front of them like in some fetish video!

Tony led the shocked Lene towards their parked car. He tried to stay professional and thanked her for a great job. He didn't knew how to comfort or what to say to his female partner who had clearly wet herself during the task. The denim-scented perfume had been accompanied by the smell of real damp elastane jeans, when Lene sat down in the seat of the car. She opened her hair bun and covered her face with her long straight and shiny hair. She could not believe what had happened.


"Not to office... home." 


They were the only words the drenched redhead managed to say in a trembling voice. 


 

Link to comment
On 7/18/2022 at 10:32 AM, Conan007 said:

Nice stories!

Could you pls give the link of that forum ?

Thanks.

Like I wrote in the beginning the forum is unfortunately dead. Link would not help, because it only gives you an error page. All material has gone.

It was very quiet (like one country fetish forums generally are) for the last years and I luckily or not 😀 saved the best stories before they killed it. This is the last one "better quality" fiction story I saved.

 

RITA'S ACCIDENT


I work in a large technology company. I do office work in research and development unit. There are young and innovative women in my team. I enjoy their cheerful presence every day, but they are also all very attractive.


One Friday in September, we had a team training day. It continued in a more relaxed way, eating in a restaurant and visiting a few different activities. The whole team was still together at midnight. We had visited several bars and ended up in a popular nightclub late after midnight.


Time passed and it was time to go home. It was closing time for the nightclub. We started to think about who lived in which direction and tried to leave in shared taxis. Public transport no longer ran that time of the night. I knew I was going with Rita. She was one of our newest employees and lived near me in an apartment building with her boyfriend and dog. I had seen them from time to time on a walk in my free time.


Rita jumped up and started to leave the table.


"I got to go downstairs first. Wait for me." She said. But the other women stopped her.


We talked closely and I saw how the porter was already emptying the tables. Rita was restless and stood next to the table. She was already about to leave, but the other women ordered him back to the table again to discuss the rides. The negotiation mainly dealt with whether a third person would still come with us. However, this did not happen.


The porter came to order us out. Rita looked suspicious. She asked if she could still go downstairs to the women's room quickly. Stone-faced man bluntly told that it was time to clear the place. Rita was the quietest and shyest woman in my team. She didn't say no and we went to get coats as a whole group.


I helped the coat on Rita like gentlemen do. The young lady had naturally curly blond hair and it reached her shoulders. She wore teacher glasses and always dressed stylishly like the other women in our office. This time she was wearing a black polo shirt, heels and yellow slightly flared suit pants.


It was the eve of a national holiday Saturday. A general night of celebration. The taxi lines were long. We decided to join the nearest queue. 


"I left it too late to use the women's room." Rita said. "Can we look if we can still get in to some place?"


We wandered the streets around the block, but all the bars were already closed. There were no public toilets at all. Rita looked even more uncertain. There was no other option than wait for a taxi and a ride home.


All the taxis were running. You couldn't get them faster by ordering. Rita began to worry. The line moved slowly. I suggested walking to the edge of the city center. You could probably have gotten a ride from there faster. He preferred to wait even though there were many customers in front of us. We must have waited for a half an hour. It was no longer worth changing place to wait.


"This is much worse than I expected." Rita said in pain.


Our turn finally came and we traveled home. Rita firmly pressed her knees together the whole way and pressed her hand against her crotch.


We got out of the taxi at the street intersection between our homes. I paid the driver and the taxi was gone. I turned towards the young lady. She stood there frozen. Hands in her coat pockets were pressing her body. I heard a hissing sound! It went on and on. Rita started to lift her heels on the asphalt with a horrified expression on her face. Even though the coat almost reached her knees I understood what happened. The pee was dripping from the shoes and legs to the ground. The trickle was glistening under the street lights.


"Don't be afraid. The others won't hear about this." I opened my mouth.


Rita made no move to go home. Just stared at the window of their apartment building. There was a ceiling light on.


"My boyfriend is still awake. He's religious. He doesn't like me drinking. And now he thinks I've drunk myself into such a bad state." She whispered.


I knew she hadn't drunk much alcohol. Her mouth started to twist. Don't cry, I thought. I am always unarmed when it happens to any woman.


I was divorced and my house was empty. I suggested that Rita could use the dryer at my place. Her expression brightened and she left with me. I led Rita to the hall and took her coat off. I finally got to see a damage of her tight-from-above slacks. The thin wet fabric revealed the shape of her dark panties through it. I had a problem to cover my enthusiasm for her.


While Rita was washing herself, I found some clothes left by my ex-wife in the closet. Size of them was quite right. They were just a little bigger. I offered them from the bathroom door to Rita and she accepted black slacks on her. I asked if her boyfriend would notice her business pants colour changing black during the evening.


"No problem. He wasn't home when I left." She answered. 


Rita kissed me shortly on my cheek, smiled and left. Her boyfriend wouldn't like all this what had happened either, I guess.


I stayed home to catch my breath. What had just happened? It wasn't a dream. There was a very wet and pee-smelling pile of clothes on my bathroom floor. Dark pantyhose, black panties and suit pants, partly darker yellow than they had been a while earlier. I wasn't going to wash them yet. It was time to play.
 

Link to comment

Join the conversation

You can post now and register later. If you have an account, sign in now to post with your account.
Note: Your post will require moderator approval before it will be visible.

Guest
Reply to this topic...

×   Pasted as rich text.   Paste as plain text instead

  Only 75 emoji are allowed.

×   Your link has been automatically embedded.   Display as a link instead

×   Your previous content has been restored.   Clear editor

×   You cannot paste images directly. Upload or insert images from URL.

  • Recently Browsing   0 members

    • No registered users viewing this page.
×
×
  • Create New...