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Below you can find the list of all stories tagged Female Desperation sorted from newest to oldest. You can use page navigation at the bottom of this page, filter by author or tag.
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, Female Wetting, and Masturbation I take the dress off the hanger and brush my hand across the smooth, shimmering ruby–red fabric. The anticipation already sends little sparks of pleasure through my mind and body. I feel the tips of my nipples harden slightly and a warm sensation passes over my breasts and between my thighs. Stepping into the dress and slowly pulling it up and over my legs, watching in the mirror as it climbs over my thighs and hips. The sheer light tan tights and white satin high–leg briefs I've chosen are slowly covered by the sheer red body of my outfit and I finish running the dress over my bare chest, already cupping and gathering my breasts…
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 →Anne fought her way determinedly through the crowded supermarket aisle. Necessity, not choice, dictated that she undertake the weekly shop now rather than at a time which she knew would be much quieter. Since Brian had become mayor – and she his mayoress – the days and weeks had become so much busier and she'd felt that her life was no longer her own. Still, his mayoral year was more than half over and she looked forward to May when he would be handing over the reins to someone else. He was rather enjoying his spell as mayor and had expressed the view that he wouldn't mind standing for a second term in the absence of too much competition – and there wasn't much. Anne, however, had put her foot firmly down.…
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 →Another major accident that I've had more recently took place whilst backpacking in Australia a couple of years ago. Traveling sometimes gets you into some pretty desperate situations, but this one probably takes the prize for idiot wetting. I had been working and traveling for about 7 months when a group of us headed up from our hostel in Brisbane to Bundaberg. This bit of Queensland is a major fruit and vegetable growing area and there is always a ton of work on the farms for skint travelers. There's a whole industry based on providing hostels for farm workers and getting them to and from jobs. But it's REALLY hard and shitty work and some of the farmers and supervisors are total mentalists. Want to…
Read →At about 1 am, David wakes. The 55–year–old man is at once conscious of the insistent twinge of need brought on by a full bladder. He ignores it, noting the rush he gets as he grabs his stirring member to stem a stronger momentary urge. He pours a tall glass of water and gulps half of it at once while dancing in place. To the uninformed, his actions might appear at odds with sanity. He turns on the computer, checks email then browses through the special sites that interest him. The glass is empty now and he refills it. David downloads a couple of free utilities. He cannot get comfortable, dares not relax. Again the glass is empty. He knows he cannot refill it now without wetting himself. He tries to…
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 →I have always been into desperation peeing and playing games. I could not get my wife interested in it at all. One night we went to a new bar to listen to a friend's band play. Little did I know that the ladies' bathroom was under construction, as it was being completely remodeled. As the night went on and we were both drinking, my wife went to the ladies' room to go to the bathroom. She didn't say anything when she returned, but as the night went on I saw in her all the signs of desperation. I asked her what was wrong and she said that she had to pee! She said that there were no stalls, just toilets with no dividing walls, and she couldn't go like that. I told her I would take her outside and let her go,…
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.