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female All wet on beach day (mods, please move to experiences)


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  • The title was changed to All wet on beach day (mods, please move to experiences)
  • 2 weeks later...

Wow what an experience

 

it is thrilling for someone with such huge capacity and control to reach their limit like that and make such an extreme decision to deliberately pee herself so publicly!!! I do think she took to much of a gamble though to empty completely and that backfired with getting her shorts wet and getting seen by others! I wonder why she didn’t stop mid flow once she’d took the edge off the urge?

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On 8/23/2022 at 5:11 AM, New_Macca said:

Wow what an experience

 

it is thrilling for someone with such huge capacity and control to reach their limit like that and make such an extreme decision to deliberately pee herself so publicly!!! I do think she took to much of a gamble though to empty completely and that backfired with getting her shorts wet and getting seen by others! I wonder why she didn’t stop mid flow once she’d took the edge off the urge?

When her bladder is that full, she has a really hard time stopping once she’s started! She was trying to get control once the couple started walking back towards us, but no dice.

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I find that incredibly erotic that someone with a huge bladder who prides themselves on the control they have over when to pee gets to this state where she has to go in a public place and simply can’t stop or control the flow no matter how hard she tries! So much sexier than the over exaggerating we often witness from people as she clearly just could not wait a moment longer!

 

i hope she was not to embarrassed by the experience 

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  • 4 weeks later...
On 8/12/2022 at 7:27 AM, kochel428 said:

My wife “J” and I went to the beach yesterday. The forecast said it would be cloudy and shower a bit off and on, but we have a nice big sun shelter, so we figured we could ride out the patches of rain. Besides, it was the only day we could go that wasn’t a weekend, and we wanted to avoid NYC’s summer beach crowds.

We took a ferry from lower Manhattan, and then a shuttle to the beach—almost a two hour trip in total. From the drop off point we walked a way down the beach, and set up shop.

It turned out to be a lovely day, with a smattering of wispy cirrus clouds in an otherwise clear blue sky. We drank seltzer from the cooler we brought, snacked, read, napped, made out a little bit. But you’re not here for any of this. You’re here for what happened at the end of the day.

Neither of us is inclined to swim at a New York beach. I probably don’t really need to explain why, but on top of the usual reasons, there have been increased shark sightings this year. This meant that we were reliant on the public restrooms, back near the bus stop, instead of doing what might normally happen at the beach. I took a trip over midway through the day, so by the time we were hurriedly packing up to catch the infrequent ferry, my bladder wasn’t terribly full. J, however, had been holding all day.

J is a nurse, and that develops certain traits in a person. Her bladder, for one thing, seems almost impossibly capacious. Not only is it huge, but she has the ability to simply ignore it as it fills. She’ll sometimes pee before bed and realize that it’s the first time she’s emptied her bladder since the morning, and she had simply forgotten.

Yesterday, though, she had been guzzling La Croix all day, and her enormous bladder was complaining. She said several times, as we packed up, that she desperately needed to go before we got on the bus back to the ferry.

The walk was pretty long back to the entrance to the park, and on the way we looked up the bus schedule. It turned out we would only have a few minutes once we got to the entrance. Not long enough for a restroom visit.

J glanced around at the bus stop. It was a pretty desolate place. The ornate brick work of the park building looked out at a wide sidewalk and a vast, empty parking lot. The bus station was a simple sign at the curb, with a mesh trash can at its base. Twenty feet away was a strip of grass. J started to walk towards it. “I’ll just go through my suit on the grass,” she said.

I took a beat to process this, my cock stirring in my bathing suit. “Are you sure?”

”It’ll be fine as long as I take off my shoes,” she said without looking back. But before she reached the grass she wheeled back around. There was a couple wandering through the colonnade at the front of the building, taking pictures. J cursed quietly.

She eyed the trash can. “Maybe this is enough cover?” I doubted it, but it seemed like her desperation was overwhelming her judgment. J reached into her backpack and pulled out her jean shorts, ready to put them on when she was done. The wandering couple were walking away from us, the bus was maybe one minute away; this was her shot. She held the shorts at her side and let go. The flood was instantaneous.

The torrent of piss exploding out of her looked like a faucet, making a three foot puddle on the ground in seconds. Then, several things happened at the same time. A hard gust of wind blew her shorts right into the thick stream. This diverted her pee, so even when she pulled her now-soaked clothes out of the way, the liquid was rushing down her leg instead. Meanwhile, the couple suddenly turned and started meandering toward us. I was laughing, J was laughing, and she continued to wet herself uncontrollably in full view of the couple as the bus came down the street.

She managed to pull her wet shorts over her wet bathing suit before the bus reached us, and she boarded it nonchalantly. I followed her and tried not to make eye contact with the couple, who fortunately stayed behind.

We went all the way to the back of the bus and heaved our bags onto the seats beside us. We were still laughing, sweaty, a bit sunburned, covered in sand, and my wife’s pussy was very, very wet.

 

Ahh shoot, I just posted this in General, my apologies. How do I request to move it?

 

Even a functional illiterate such as myself is completely captivated by the description of your wife having an almost impossibly capacious bladder. When your creative juices get the urge, please write a descriptive tale about her superhuman urinating abilities. Situationally, perhaps a time your wife found herself endlessly peeing in a public restroom where every other woman's bladder capacity was infinitesimally small by comparison. Hyperbole is quite welcome as there are those of us who have the ability to suspend disbelief.

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On 9/23/2022 at 9:11 PM, LngPeefan said:

 

Even a functional illiterate such as myself is completely captivated by the description of your wife having an almost impossibly capacious bladder. When your creative juices get the urge, please write a descriptive tale about her superhuman urinating abilities. Situationally, perhaps a time your wife found herself endlessly peeing in a public restroom where every other woman's bladder capacity was infinitesimally small by comparison. Hyperbole is quite welcome as there are those of us who have the ability to suspend disbelief.

When I write about my wife I tend to avoid hyperbole, since I’d rather maintain my believability for when I do write about actual events (as I did here). If I write something like that it’ll definitely be tagged fiction!

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