Jump to content
Existing user? Sign In

Sign In



Sign Up

Recommended Posts

"Who feels like going for a drink in the city?" someone asked.
"Sorry, not me," said Susan, "I'm completely done for the week. I'm getting in my car now and driving straight home."
"I'll catch up with you on the way," Bart laughed. "My car is broken, but the leasing company is bringing a replacement car in fifteen minutes."
The cheerful twinkle in Bart's eyes melted Susan's heart. Since Willem had left her, she had become more than fond of her new colleague. However, being insecure, she had not dared to do anything with those feelings yet. She was well aware that, as a well-proportioned young woman, she was popular with the opposite sex. However, strangely enough, that did not give her the confidence she needed to ask Bart out. After all, he had never shown any sign of liking her more than just being nice. Either way, Susan's mind was now set on something completely different than her attractive colleague.
"Have a great weekend, everyone!" Susan grabbed her bag and walked down the hall. She needed to use the bathroom. The three large glasses of water she had had this afternoon had not gone unnoticed. She passed the women's restrooms and walked to the exit. On her smartphone, she checked the traffic reports. At least an hour's delay on her route, she noted with satisfaction. Before getting into her car, she carefully covered the seat with a large plastic bag. She made sure her long coat was on the back seat. Check. Everything was going according to plan.

Susan felt a pleasant tension in her bladder. Today it was going to happen! Since it had happened involuntarily half a year ago, she had fantasized about it constantly: peeing in her pants in her car, surrounded by hundreds of unsuspecting drivers on the road.
The time she had lost control of her bladder had been a revelation for her. She had discovered how exciting it is to do something that you're not supposed to do as an adult woman, according to social norms. In the past few months, she had peed in her pants in front of the mirror in her bedroom, enjoying the warm sensation on her legs and the sight of the steadily spreading dark spot in her pants. The excitement that had come over her had always ended in a powerful, self-induced orgasm.
Two weeks ago, Susan had gone out on the street for the first time in her wet pants. With her heart pounding with excitement at the thought of the secret hidden under her long coat, she had walked through the busy city center for an hour. But she wanted more: she wanted to feel that tension again, the impending loss of control, being overwhelmed by an untamable primal force. And thanks to her full bladder and at least two hours of slow-moving and stopped traffic, it was about to happen now.

She was about to leave the parking lot when there was a knock on the passenger door window. It was Bart, who opened the door with a red face from the effort. "Good thing I caught up with you," he gasped. "The leasing company just called to say they can't arrange a replacement car today. Could I maybe ride with you?"
Bart lived less than a kilometer from her, and she had just confidently stated that she would drive straight home. Susan couldn't think of any excuse why she couldn't give Bart a lift. "Sure, no problem," she forced a smile. A moment later, Bart was sitting next to her, talking non-stop about his plans for the weekend. Susan began to panic slightly: there she was, facing hours of traffic with a pressing need to go to the bathroom, sitting next to the man she wanted to impress more than anyone else. She wouldn't make it home dry without going to the bathroom. She had done everything she could to make that impossible.
The restroom in the office building was tempting, but she found it embarrassing to make a U-turn after only ten meters of driving for a bathroom break. That would make a strange impression on her passenger. She had always had difficulty talking to others about going to the bathroom. She knew that everyone did it, but she preferred not to remind other people that she had such primitive needs. Now she couldn't avoid it, but she decided to wait until the first gas station on the highway. She had to be able to make it. To relieve some of the pressure on her bladder, she squeezed her thighs tightly together.

While Susan hurriedly drove towards the highway, she tried to chat with Bart. But she could hardly concentrate on what he was saying. She felt like she could lose control of her bladder at any moment. If she didn't reach a toilet soon, she would pee in her pants in front of her handsome colleague like a little child.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Bart looking at her. "Hey, why are you sitting on a plastic bag?" he suddenly asked.
Shit. That stupid thing popped out from under her legs. "Uh, these pants stain the upholstery," was the first thing she could think of. She immediately realized how idiotic it sounded: she had deliberately worn a slightly faded pair of jeans because they gave the most exciting stains when wet. But Bart seemed to accept her explanation.
After ten kilometers on the highway, she took the relieving exit to the gas station. "Sorry, I need to use the toilet," she apologized, hastily getting out of the car.
"No problem, it's better than doing it in your pants," Bart joked. Susan felt herself blush. Bart had no idea that was exactly what she had planned.
She sighed in relief as she emptied her bladder with a clattering sound in the somewhat grimy but oh so welcome Shell toilet a little later. There seemed to be no end to her pee. She would never have been able to hold it for hours. She pulled up her underwear and jeans, grateful that they would remain bone dry today. "Okay, we're good to go," she said cheerfully as she got back behind the wheel.

Not much later, they joined the end of a traffic jam. According to the radio, it was an extremely busy rush hour. It would take at least two more hours for them to get home. Although her original plan had fallen through, this sounded like music to Susan's ears: she would have Bart all to herself for a nice long time. Her relief at having an empty bladder was so great that her shyness had disappeared spontaneously. She chatted with Bart about small talk topics, feeling relaxed, and he seemed to be enjoying the conversation just as much as she was.
They had just started talking about their mutual vacation plans when Susan realized she needed to pee again. Not as badly as before, but much more than you would expect twenty minutes after going to the bathroom. In her head, she went through what she had drunk that day. The three glasses of water she had in the afternoon were certainly good for a liter, but to make sure she would be bursting when she left, she had also had the necessary tea and coffee in the morning. And a cup of milk at lunch... She didn't know exactly what the average woman's bladder capacity was, but when Susan added up her fluid intake for the day, she could only conclude that her pee just now had only been the tip of the iceberg. Her body had now begun to eliminate the rest of the excess fluid.

Initially, Susan wasn't too worried. She had already proven today that she could hold her pee for a long time, so she figured she could handle the few hours in the car. But soon she realized that her bladder was filling up at an accelerated pace. She began to panic, frantically trying to think of where the nearest toilet was. At cruising speed, it was at least another half an hour to the next gas station, she calculated. But the traffic had just come to a complete stop, so the much-needed bathroom could have been in Timbuktu for all she knew.
"Why are you suddenly so quiet?" Bart asked.
"Sorry, I'm a little tired," Susan replied.
In the next half hour, they covered a measly five kilometers. Less than an hour after her liberating bathroom visit, Susan once again felt like her bladder could explode at any moment. Restlessly, she shifted in her seat. She might be able to hold it for another fifteen minutes, but her self-created doom was inevitable: whether she wanted to or not, she was going to pee her pants.

Susan thought back to how it had gone last time. She had resisted nature's call with all her might, and as a result, had lost control of her body for ten whole seconds. Perhaps it would be better if she took matters into her own hands this time, and controlled the release of her pee little by little. Hopefully, her pants wouldn't get soaked through so quickly, and the liquid, which would inevitably seek the lowest point, could reach her seat undetected. If she behaved as normally as possible, Bart might not notice anything!

With a sideways glance at the man next to her, Susan cautiously relaxed her sphincter muscle. Immediately, she felt the familiar sensation of warm liquid filling her panties. A moment later, she regained control of her bladder with some effort. She looked down as inconspicuously as possible. The fabric of her jeans between her legs showed a small wet spot, but Bart probably wouldn't be able to see it from his position. Susan let some more urine flow again, this time for a little longer. She felt her buttocks becoming damp. Unconsciously, she let out a sigh.

"Isn't this traffic frustrating?" said Bart.

"Yes, very annoying," said Susan, secretly releasing a warm stream from her body for the third time. "Could you pass me my bag, please?" Bart handed her the handbag he had placed on the floor in front of him when they got in the car. Susan took out a tissue and pretended to blow her nose. She casually left the bag on her lap, shielding the slowly growing wet spot in her crotch.

She dared to relax a little more, but remained constantly aware of her thoroughly wet buttocks.

Two endless hours later, Susan parked her car in front of Bart's house. Her bladder was still about to burst. During the ride, she had been able to relieve some of the pressure by letting a little bit of pee out at a time, but because the back of her pants had limited absorption capacity, she still had to hold back. If she had opened all the floodgates, the pee would undoubtedly have seeped through to the front of her pants, and her handbag would no longer have hidden her shame from Bart. To her dismay, Bart had even offered to put her bag on the back seat, but she had managed to dissuade him with an excuse.
"Hey, I was thinking," said Bart. "You're probably too tired to cook for yourself. Why don't you join me for dinner? I'll make a delicious risotto."
Having dinner at Bart's house! Susan would have loved nothing more, but she had made it impossible for herself. "Uh, some other time, please," she stammered. "But I'm really tired now. I'm going to lie on the couch at home."
"I have a couch too, you know," Bart said invitingly.
"No, thank you, I really prefer to go home."
Bart seemed disappointed but didn't insist further. "Okay, have a nice weekend then. And thanks for the ride!"

Susan let out a deep sigh. She had made it. She had wet herself, but Bart hadn't noticed a thing. Now that all the tension was released, Susan could no longer hold her protesting bladder in check. Before she had even left the street, she felt her body fluid rushing out uncontrollably between her legs. She threw her handbag on the back seat and looked in amazement at her pants, which became soaking wet in a matter of seconds. The modest wet spot in her crotch rapidly spread over the inside of her thighs. The fabric around her buttocks was now completely saturated. Moisture began to drip from the plastic bag on the floor. Undoubtedly, the makeshift protective layer would not adequately protect the seat of her chair. She didn't care and made no effort to regain control. She continued to pee in one long spurt that seemed to last forever.

Like a baby, she was peeing herself, but she felt stronger than ever. No one could touch her. She did whatever she felt like doing, defying all prevailing conventions. Involuntarily, she pressed the gas pedal a little harder. When a traffic light turned red, she quickly made an extra sprint. Adrenaline surged through her body. It took a while for the police car's stop sign to penetrate her consciousness and for her to crash back down to earth.

"So, madam," said the officer when Susan rolled down her window, "it seems like you were in quite a hurry. You just drove through the red light at full speed. Do you have an explanation for that?"
"No, I'm sorry," said Susan meekly, "I just wasn't paying attention. I understand if I get a fine for that." With her arms, she tried to hide the large wet spots on her pant legs as best she could.
"I do need to issue you a ticket for this," said the officer. "May I see your driver's license?"
Shit. Susan's driver's license was in the bag she had just thrown onto the back seat with a big sweep. It was out of her reach. She would have to turn a quarter turn and stretch to reach it. The officer would have a clear view of her soaking wet behind. She started sweating. For the second time today, she had gotten herself into trouble. "No, sorry," she answered as kindly as possible, "I accidentally left my driver's license at home this morning. Could you perhaps check my details based on my license plate?"
"Could you step out of the car, please?" asked the officer. "It's easier to talk that way." He clearly had no intention of letting Susan off easily.
"Um, can't we just do it like this, I uh..." stuttered Susan.
"Madam, I request that you leave your vehicle," the man repeated in a pressing tone.
It was clear that the officer would not tolerate any objections, and that Susan would only get herself into more trouble if she refused to cooperate. Hesitantly, Susan opened the door and stepped out of the car. She felt the soaking wet fabric of her pants sticking to her legs. She could have died of shame.
"As you probably know," the officer began his sermon, "since 2005, every citizen from the age of 14 must have a form of identification..." He didn't finish his sentence. The stern expression on his face gave way to astonishment. It took him a while to realize what he was seeing. Standing before him was an attractive young woman with shoulder-length blond hair, bright green eyes, and feminine curves in all the right places, who had wet herself. The large wet spot in the crotch of her jeans, which she was unsuccessfully trying to cover with her hands, left no doubt about this. In the reflection of the car window, he could see that the fabric around her well-shaped buttocks was soaked.
Ashamed, Susan looked down at her feet.
"Y-you can go home," stammered the officer, bewildered. "We all make mistakes." After one last shy glance at Susan's pants, he walked back to his car.

With a pounding heart, Susan slammed the door behind her as she arrived home. The car ride had become more thrilling than she had anticipated. First, she had secretly wet herself in front of her colleague, and then she had exposed herself to a complete stranger. She had endured anxious moments, but now that she was safely home, excitement took over. She took off the long coat that had concealed her wet pants from unsuspecting passersby on the street. In her bedroom mirror, she examined the dark blue stains on her pants. She flopped down on her bed. When she rolled over, large moist spots remained where her buttocks had touched the sheet. She lay on her back and ran her hands over her wet pant legs. She pulled her pants down and touched her soaked panties.

Then Susan could no longer resist the desire to touch herself in that one sensitive spot. Moments later, she experienced her most explosive orgasm in ages.

Link to comment
1 hour ago, P. Anonymous said:

Yes, this is a translation of the second Dutch wetting story I wrote, back in 2012.
It's nice to see that it still emerges somewhere now and then.

The translation is different from the official translation I made a few years ago, but I like it.
Was this done manually, or was it done using Google Translate or a similar tool?

Awesome! I used ChatGPT to translate the story. I loved the original so much, I figured more people should be able to read it! (Didn’t know there was an English version already). Thanks for writing the original 🤤

Link to comment
2 hours ago, P. Anonymous said:

Yes, this is a translation of the second Dutch wetting story I wrote, back in 2012.
It's nice to see that it still emerges somewhere now and then.

The translation is different from the official translation I made a few years ago, but I like it.
Was this done manually, or was it done using Google Translate or a similar tool?

I've read the Dutch version, not a good idea when you're in a crowded train. Really detailed, loved every word of it!

Link to comment
9 hours ago, Avery Fox said:

Its a great story but i see its resolved in the comments but i think you should have given the original author the credits in your story and not put it down as your own

 

Its a great story thoug 

There was no author linked on any of the websites that host the original version of the story

Edited by Guest (see edit history)
Link to comment

It's always nice to get credits for your work, but for me the most important thing is that people like the stories. It makes me want to write more.

By the way, you can find the official translation of the story here: https://www.omorashi.org/topic/56743-in-trouble/
The translation by ChatGPT is amazingly good, but it still contains a few sentences that were translated incorrectly.

I'm currently working on the translations of my other stories.

Link to comment
7 hours ago, P. Anonymous said:

It's always nice to get credits for your work, but for me the most important thing is that people like the stories. It makes me want to write more.

By the way, you can find the official translation of the story here: https://www.omorashi.org/topic/56743-in-trouble/
The translation by ChatGPT is amazingly good, but it still contains a few sentences that were translated incorrectly.

I'm currently working on the translations of my other stories.

Nice!

I did read over the ChatGPT version quickly and fixed a few mistakes, but nonetheless very impressive that it can make grammar and spelling decisions based on different (Dutch) written context.

Link to comment
  • 4 months later...
On 4/28/2023 at 2:12 AM, P. Anonymous said:

Yes, this is a translation of the second Dutch wetting story I wrote, back in 2012.
It's nice to see that it still emerges somewhere now and then.

The translation is different from the official translation I made a few years ago, but I like it.
Was this done manually, or was it done using Google Translate or a similar tool?

Well now that we know you're the author, this was an excellent story. Will there be any follow-up? Any back story? 

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...