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Below you can find the list of all stories tagged Accidental Wetting sorted from newest to oldest. You can use page navigation at the bottom of this page, filter by author or tag.
I'd been called in to investigate a commercial burglary. As the first detective on the scene, I walked into the second floor office. I saw a beautiful woman tied to her office chair: her arms bound to the chair arms, and her legs tied apart, also to the arms of the chair. Her skirt had ridden up to reveal some of her beautifully nylon–clad legs. She was blindfolded. There was a piece of duct tape securing her mouth. She was pulling and writhing against the restraints in an effort to get herself out of the chair. I removed the blindfold and I showed her my badge, and her eyes signaled her relief. From under the duct tape, she was trying to talk or scream to no avail. The crime scene investigators were on their…
Read →This is a story, part fact– part fiction about my mate's mum, Brenda. In the late 70s, she was in her mid 30s and had a medium build, an hourglass figure with ample round rear, small waist, and generous bust. Looking back, she was quite attractive. In those days, women of her age dressed smartly with a skirt, blouse, and 'American Tan' tights. Usually, her skirts were lined too, with the lining sometimes drooping down a half an inch or so revealing a lighter colored material under her skirt, which was a nylon type of material. When she walked you could hear the swishing sound the lining made as her nylon tights rubbed against it, often the static would cause the lining to rise up under her skirt. No one would…
Read →Sayuri shifted uncomfortably in the driver's seat of her Mercury Tracer. She had been sitting there for more than two hours: Her butt was numb; the backs of her thighs ached, and her bladder was almost bursting. She reflected ruefully that they never showed this aspect of a stakeout in the movies. Male detectives either had cast–iron bladders, or they would simply step out of the car and pee in the gutter. For a woman, that wasn't an option, especially not on a street bordered on one side by a high wall and on the other by a residential estate. She adjusted herself in her seat, flicking her long, black, slightly curly hair over her shoulders, and wondered how much longer she would have to sit there before her…
Read →The sunlight shone in from the east, filtering through the white curtains, casting patterns upon the hardwood floor of the upstairs bedroom. The window was open, the cool morning breeze wafting gently throughout the room, birds chirping as the new day began. Next to the window, to the left, stood a cabinet, filled with picture frames and mementos. On top of the cabinet sat an old alarm clock, manual wind, a worn cell phone, and a hairbrush. A few bobby pins lay next to the hairbrush, along with a torn piece of paper with a phone number on it. To the right of the window there was open space; only a faded picture of an old Elle magazine cover hung sloppily in a cheap frame. Within the wall to the right of the…
Read →Note: This story contains Female Desperation, Accidental & Deliberate Wetting, Humiliation, and Sex. I was shopping at the local supermarket and was packing the goods as they came through the checkout. It was quite a busy time and there was a long queue at each till. When the last items came through, I packed them up and turned to pay the cashier. As I handed over the money I heard someone say "Noooo" in a shrill anguished voice. I looked, and the next lady in line had her hands firmly jammed in her crotch and was doing a frantic pee–pee dance. As I collected my change she seemed to get herself under control. I turned to her and said that I sympathized with her predicament and asked her whether I could help…
Read →In all my life I had never known anyone who was remotely as androgynous as Terri. Everything about her was just totally ambiguous, and I continued to harbour some residual doubts as to her true sex right up to the moment she began to wet herself. And even then, it was only the obviously "female" pattern of the wet spot spreading across the front of her jeans from a point slightly below the bottom of her zipper which finally convinced me that she had to be a girl, even though the visible fastenings on her clothes all did up on the "boys' side." She boarded my train at Mile End. I had traveled in from Loughton, so naturally I had a seat. By Mile End, however, the train was becoming crowded and several people…
Read →Note: This story contains Female Desperation, Accidental & Deliberate Wetting, Foreplay, and Sex. Alexis Chambers looked with distaste into the toilet bowl as she dropped the square of pee–dampened tissue into the yellow water. How she hated it when she did that! So disgusting! She always tried not to look. The 41–year–old newly remarried widow hoped her new husband would be as proper about such matters as her previous husband had been. Odd, it was probably the only characteristic she had liked about her recently departed, unmissed, and unmourned mate. Her life had gone from merely livable to torturous over the 21 years she had been Mrs. Thadius Rushmore Monroe. She could hardly remember him now as the man…
Read →Please note that this story is based on a real event that happened, which I have posted details of on the wet set message board. This story is elaborated, with a slightly different turn of events. Hope you like it. Sally was a highly attractive 18–year–old working in a fast food restaurant in the north of England. She attracted attention from all the boys, but had a steady boyfriend, Dave, who was a manager at the restaurant. Tonight it was an awards night and about 20 people from Sally's restaurant were attending. The company was organizing a coach to take them to the nightclub and drop them off again afterwards. It was going to be great. Sally had decided not to get too drunk tonight as she was working the…
Read →20–year–old Tiffany was late for class again. She knew that her professor was going to be very upset with her for being late again and would probably fail her on the lab that she was late for. She brushed her brunette hair that fell to her shoulders, wishing that she had a roommate to wake her up. She hated living by herself. Looking in the mirror she noticed she was standing there in nothing but a white pair of bikini panties and a white bra. She quickly slipped on a pink skirt with a matching belt and pulled on thigh high tan stockings. She threw on a white halter–top, slipped on shoes, gulped down a cup of coffee, and ran out the door. She started running to class when she realized that she had forgotten…
Read →Three months after I first dated Julia Hayward, she came over from Winchester to Canterbury to spend a weekend with me at my house. She arrived on the down train from London where she worked as a secretary for a firm of solicitors. She had a flat in the middle class area near Mayfair, two streets over from Bakers Street where she worked, and enjoyed getting out of the city to spend her weekends with me in the country. It was the country too since I didn't live right in Canterbury itself, but in the village of Wycliffe, about fifteen miles away, almost on the coast of the North Sea, the beach just a ten–minute walk away. After collecting Julia from the train station and stowing her two suitcases in the boot…
Read →"Punting on the Cam is jolly fun they say," said Helen, taking the last slice of pizza from the box. "Jolly fun," mimicked Andy. "When did you start talking like that?" "I didn't," said Helen. "I was quoting a song. Don't you know it?" "No," said Andy, popping the cork on the bottle of cheap sparkling white wine. "Garden Party. Marillion," she prompted. "Never heard of it, or them. And anyway, we're not going punting on the Cam. We're going punting on the Granta." "I thought there was only one river in Cambridge," mumbled Helen through a mouthful of dough, tomato, cheese, pepperoni, mushrooms, and peppers. "There is," said Andy, taking a swig of wine and passing the bottle to Helen. "And it changes name…
Read →High School is always the time you remember when you first began to explore your sexual inhibitions– and so it was– for us as well, a young woman who is now my closest confidant, and myself. Bronwyn (name altered) and myself shared the same classes from third thru seventh period. We were very close and enjoyed all the things one gets up to at that age, dating, flirting, sports and in our case living dangerously – smoking in school uniform. If you were caught, you soon felt it. By the time our senior year class group reached the seventh form, Bronwyn and myself shared a very close bond. We could confide in anything to each other even though by then all I wanted to do was to get her naked. I wasn't the only…
Read →Tara sat at her desk in the typing pool. She gazed up at the clock. 12:30pm. She had a choice to make. Should she hurry along to the toilet, which she badly needed, or maybe try and wait the half–hour until her lunch break. She had been struggling for a while now since it had been several hours since she had emptied her bladder first thing this morning at 6:30am. She usually went during her morning tea break, but today her friend and co–secretary, Caitlin, had kept her talking about her new man and her nightclub date the previous evening. Her mind was suddenly made up as the intercom buzzed. "Miss Smith. Could you come into my office please?" It was her immediate boss, Sebastian Loveday. Most of the women in…
Read →It was a bad day from the start for 22–year–old Alisha. When she woke up, her long brunette hair was all in clumps, and when she went to get out of bed her pajamas caught on the bed post and ripped right at the crotch. She wanted to cry, but figured she could just sew it later. As she walked into the bathroom, she noticed all her dirty clothes lying on the floor and knew that she had to go do laundry today. She quickly stepped in the shower and washed her hair, but it was still hard to brush when she came out. She wrapped a towel around her tight body and walked to her dresser, where she found she had no clean clothes. She looked at the dirty laundry pile realizing how bad the day was going. She picked…
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All stories belong to their authors.
Contact: Sae.