The following is a log I’ve kept based on a close friend’s detailed descriptions of her pants and pantie wetting incidents. We have a funny relationship. We flirt and tease, are very open, hug but that’s all. I’ve seen her dressing a few times down to her panties. I have pictures of her in her panties, topless, and getting dressed. I also have endless pictures of her…dressed, and a few upskirts, one with pee stained panties. Unfortunately, I can’t share any of these. We share a love of lingerie, which we’ll talk about, and sometimes she’ll show me what she’s wearing (pantie and bras), and other times describe them. She favors quite expensive cotton panties (European), with lace and lacy, often see through bras.
She is a very pretty woman, and was in her early 30’s when I first got to know her. She holds a high level professional position at work. About 5’8”, very thin, nicely firm breasts, straight hair and dancer’s legs, she almost always turns heads. She likes attention and while not really an exhibitionist, she dresses very well and often in very sexy clothes, although always in good taste. She has always loved lingerie and has a wonderful collection of bras and panties, and while not usually making a point of showing off her panties or bra, neither is she terribly modest. I’ve seen her at a lake (not a lot of people around, but some) take off her dress and swim in her panties and bra. I’ll call her Joanne.
I first came to know her shortly after she began working where I do. We were immediately attracted to each other, but as we were each in relationship it never got physical….just endless unfulfilled lust and a whole lot in common. Had we both been single we’d be together still. After a number of lunches, I remember walking outside towards our offices (in the same building), and she recounted to me when she was pregnant with her son, about to give birth, it turned out, 4 days after the first wetting incident she described to me. We’d never mentioned peeing, wetting, desperation or much sexual at all. It wasn’t until about a month later that I told her how electric that story was for me, and she was totally surprise when I told her how peeing/wetting was my most intense turn on.
That first story was, in brief, that she had been speeding in town, trying to get to the near by supermarket which she knew had a toilet, since she was almost wetting her pants in the car. She was pulled over by a cop, not a nice guy it seems, who asked her why she was speeding and she told him, obviously pregnant even sitting behind the wheel, that she was desperate to pee. “In fact, I’m about to wet my pants.” He somehow assumed her water was breaking and offered an escort to the hospital, but she, now red faced, told him, “No, I’m not about to deliver, I’m about to pee in my pants.” He again offered a hospital escort, but she declined, as he wrote her out a ticket. She was, as she told me, holding herself but to little avail as she began to spurt and then completely loose it and soaked her pants, her butt, the car seat and floor. She came back with the ticket, obviously noticing her pee accident as she pants were shiny and soaking, and the car smelled a little of fresh pee. “Next time, slow down and perhaps this type of accident won’t happen.” She said nothing, and drove home wet.
Some weeks later, with infant in arms (maybe two months) she actually went to court to contest the ticket, and explained to the judge (with the court room packed) what happened, including the part about having wet her pants in the car. The judge expressed his concern, but she ended up with the ticket nonetheless.
As she told me I was excited, hard and felt my heart, prick and all else of me falling madly in love with her. It turns out the attraction was mutual, but like in much of life, timing is everything, and time was not on our side. But out of this, came beautiful, long, enduring and intense friendship.
Each of the incidents are as she told them to me. I’ve written them up after each telling, and on the whole I have not edited the notes. As time goes on I’ll add to them. All are true. While I’ve know a few women who have pretty loose bladder control, I’ve never met any like Joanne for constant mini–accidents, and major ones every so often She’s a pants wetter delight, and a beautiful one at that.
Background: She’s been wetting her panties and pants, all accidentally, since she was 7. Her first accident was in school, and she remembered the teacher being very nice about it, but she was very embarrassed. Since then she had constant accidents, certainly not daily or even weekly, but consistent. Most are dribbles and spurts in her panties, but some are major accidents.
Joanne’s wet incidents and accidents as she’s told them to me beginning 1990 to date.
- Joanne is driving in her car with son; in hurry, forgot to pee at son’s school. Normally 10–minute drive home, but road construction; takes 25. She wearing denim skirt, shortish but not really. Stop and Go, dying to pee, can barely sit still yet has to drive. Finally is forced to drive one hand between her legs, under skirt. But near house she begins to have her usual little spurts in her panties. As she drive thu gate more spurts, feels her panties getting soaked. She wearing white bikinis with lace mesh front, cotton crotch. By time in garage (attached to house) she can feel her ass dampening; she’s fearful she wet back of her skirt. Runs out of car, spurts more frequent; feels pee running down inside thigh by time she near toilet. Sits on toilet forcefully peeing just as she gets there, soaking the back of her panties as well. Her legs are wet to her knees; her panties yellowed and dripping. Sits on toilet peeing, takes panties off, rinses them, thinking of me, how I’d love it. Takes skirt off, notices for first time a damp spot about 6 inches across. Takes shower.
- Driving alone to party, gets lost, further from freeway than she had thought. Has to pee terribly; driving with hand between her legs, pressing leather pants into crotch. Begins to dribble in little spurts some blocks from party…is totally desperate; thinks she’s going to loose total control and wonders what she’ll do if that happens. Finds the house, parks as quick as she can; walks really fast to front door, but begins to dribble again. Feels pee soaking her panties. Rings door, feels it will take forever for an answer. She knows only one friend at party; her best friend. Waiting at door she has legs crossed, is slightly bent at waist, hand in her crotch and jumping around, and is still dribbling. Man answers door, and she says, “Where’s the bathroom, I gotta go desperately, I can’t wait.” Walking in and following his pointing, says “Hi Im Joanne”. He laughs. Door is closed; locked. She knocks, thinking she about to wet her pants in a stranger’s house; her friend, Susan, happens to be in bathroom; opens door laughing. Joanne dashes to toilet, peeing as she goes, somehow managers to get her leather pants down before too much damage is done, but soaks her black lace and cotton panties. Susan laughs; she’s seen Joanne pee herself before. Susan leaves; Joanne changes panties, another pair coincidentally in her purse (along with other clothes) since she was sleeping over. Man jokes with her afterward about a funny way to meet, ‘you about to wet your pants’. Joanne is thinking of me; how I’d love it. Later goes into hot tub in her bra and new black panties, also thinking of me…she’s only one in panties and a bra; other women have suits and guy is naked. (She knows love I women in wet panties…and clothes…for any reason.) I suggest in phone call that she always carry extra pair of panties. She says she’ll consider it. (But she never does….)
- She said it was pretty common for girls to wet themselves, in excitement and expectation, or from exertion. It happened to her quite a few times. Few other times she’s completely wet except once in HS or college at mother’s house. Could not find her key, went in backyard to try to get in, no luck, went around front, at door rang and rang, finally as her mother was coming (she was in shower) couldn’t control it and totally wet her panties, her legs spread on front porch. Had on mini dress, summer, and soaked some of that too. Just stood there with her mother watching her, couldn’t stop. Said she had on white cotton panties with lace front, as usual. They were and still are her favorite style.
- At work a few times rushes to women’s room early in morning “barely” making it; one time she says she dribbled in her panties, but her pants didn’t show it. I wanted to feel them. She continues to have some wonderfully exciting peeing accidents she loves to tell me about…a women with one of the weakest bladders I’ve heard about. It keeps me turned on, and she loves to play with me about her having to pee, “barely making it”, and sometimes wetting her panties.
- She tells me that last week she was talking with a client in her office, he keeps talking and talking, she has to pee more and more, sitting with her legs crossed, thinking maybe she should interrupt him, go to toilet, but decides not. She knows she really has to pee. Finally he leaves, but instead of going directly to bathroom (“I never really go when I first have to but always wait till the last minute…”) she goes to the computer room to print something out. She can’t get the printer to work. She really has to pee and trying as usually to hold it, in the process she dribbles a little in her panties.
She was wearing a blue skirt and top, and blue panties and bra. She finally gets the printer working, but instead of going to the toilet she goes to the xerox room. Another spurt as she tries to hold it in. Her panties are now warm and wet. Standing by the xerox room she again dribbles in her panties as she contacts her muscles to prevent an accident. Finally she grabs her papers and runs up the hallway toward the toilet. At the door she dribbles quite a lot in her panties and feels them saturated, pee running slightly down her inner thighs. She drops her papers on the floor in the stall, and pulls up her dress, her legs crossed, and just as she begins to pull down her panties a final larger spurt goes through the now soaked material.
She lands on the toilet and lets go quickly, her wet (almost dripping) panties around her knees. She looks at them, the crotch is soaking. She has no choice but to pull them back up, feeling the material cool around her crotch. She says she thinks of me, but actually hates it since she has to go to a meeting to make a presentation. Her panties take a long time to dry. She wonders if anybody suspects she’s wearing peed in panties from not going to the toilet and not being able to really control herself.
- Pees in her pants when she and her older sister tickle each other. Often completely soaks herself. I remind her that she told me that she only completely soaked herself once in high school, and she says, “oh, that’s when I wasn’t being tickled by my sister.”
- Is at meeting with about 25 people. Meetings last all day, but with many breaks. She’s self conscious about getting up to go pee because there have been so many breaks. Decides to hold it but its hard. At breaks goes quickly to the bathroom, but many other women are there too. She can’t stand still and is saying to others how badly she has to pee and she can’t wait. She is squeezing her legs together almost jumping form foot–to–foot, fearful that she won’t make it. Just as a stall door opens for her turn she feels the first dribble in her panties. () She dashes in to the stall, shuts the door, feeling another spurt of warm pee as she undoes her pants(?), and pulls them and her now pretty wet panties down, peeing forcefully as she sits. She looks at her wet panties, and says she was thinking of me.
- She was sitting reading at home, with plenty of time to go pee. She has to pee, and pee badly but keeps thinking why waste the time. She continues to read now with her legs close tight. Finally she can’t wait any longer, realizing that she’s about to wet her pants and dashes for the bathroom holding herself between her legs. A the door she feels the first dribble, thinking to herself “Why do I always wait so long knowing that I’ll probably start peeing in my panties?” She doesn’t have an answer, and this is repeated frequently. As she’s frantically trying to undo her jeans she feels a larger spurt completely soak her panties, and she begins to feel the warm pee dampen her thighs, thinking to herself she must have also wet her jeans and not just her panties. Again, she pulls them down and lets go forcefully in the toilet. She examines her panties: the white cotton is soaking, quite yellow, although her jeans are only barely damp. “… would love this,” she thinks to herself. She finishes, pulling off her pants and panties, and walks naked to get a dry pair of panties, putting them and her jeans on. She deposits the wet panties in the dirty clothes hamper.
- She is driving to the doctor’s to get her allergy shot. She has dropped her 7–year–old son off at his swimming practice. As soon as she is in the car on the freeway she realizes (as usually) she has to pee really badly. She thinks to herself, also as usual, “why didn’t I go pee when I dropped X off?”. And as usual she doesn’t have a good answer. But she really has to pee badly. She’s wearing a skirt (blue?), pretty short, and white cotton panties with a lace panel on the front. The ten–minute drive seems to take longer since she has to go so badly, and seemingly so suddenly. By the time she gets to the parking structure she’s dying, although she hasn’t (yet) dribbled at all. But she’s desperate.
But once out of the car she can’t really control herself any longer. She has to walk down the stairs, across a yard, up a ramp, through a longish hallway before she gets to the first bathroom. The walk takes perhaps 2 minutes, but standing up for her is harder to control herself than sitting. On the stairs she feels the first sign of loosing control, and she stops and contracts her muscles, but as always in doing this she releases a small spurt of pee. This happens also at the foot of the stairs. As she walks she really afraid she won’t be able to control herself and have a massive accident, but she avoids it. While walking she is only able to control herself by contracting her muscles, but each time she releases a little more warm pee into her panties. By the time she reaches the building she is walking more slowly since she’s trying to push her legs together to keep from wetting her panties completely, but this slows her down.
Each time she tries to hold back what feels like a dangerous flood she slows down even more. Once inside the building she once more contracts her muscles and this time feels her pee begin to run down the insides of her thighs. It feels warm, but she’s panicked that she will leave a trail of wetness for all to see. She doesn’t but is still afraid of totally loosing control and having a major accident in the hallway before she gets to the toilet. Finally after two more spurts through her panties she makes it to the toilet, but by now her panties are totally saturated with warm pee, and the insides of her legs are wet almost to her knees. She dashes to the toilet stall, pulling her wet panties down as she sits down and finally releases her pent up pee. Her panties are just above her knees, their crotch spread out and still almost dripping. Joanne looks at them, the yellow of her pee discoloring the pure white cotton. She rubs at them with toilet paper, absorbing some of the pee, but leaving them still soaking. She says she thinks of me and how turned I would be watching her. She pulls up her wet panties, feeling their now cold wetness against her, thinking about how this happens so much to her. “Why can’t I learn to go pee even when its not urgent,” she asks herself. She feels her wet panties against her as she walks down the hallway, thinking of how she once spoke at a meeting with soaking panties on. She had doubled checked her skirt to make sure it wasn’t wet. By the time she get home her panties have dried, but its clear form the large yellow stain that she had an accident.
[]
- Having finished shopping at Wall Mart she is wheeling out her things. Getting close to the car she realizes, as usual, she has to pee urgently. All of a sudden she can’t wait much longer. As she begin to puts her things in the back of her car she feels the first little spurt soak into her white cotton panties. She tries to keep her legs tightly closed, holding on, trying to stay in control, but quickly feel another warm spurt. She’s thinking what to do. Another uncontrollable dribble begins to soak her blue jeans. She almost panicked. She has on a long, oversized sweater which goes down her thighs. Another spurt this time soaks the insides of her lovely thighs. She still hasn’t finished loading the car and is by now having one spurt almost run, as it were, into the next. She’s still controlling it enough that she’s not really peeing a steady stream, but she can feel the insides of her jeans getting wetter and wetter. She wonders if she’s peeing right on the ground. She glances furtively around to see if other people might be looking at her. She feels herself turning red with embarrassment.
A large spurt soaks her jeans. Joanne feels the warm pee soaking slowly up the lower part of her ass, and slowly creep down to soak her jeans’s legs. While her sweater covers her wet jeans, she doesn’t dare look or feel exactly how wet she is. She doesn’t know that no one can see her wet pants. She walks quickly, now barely in control, to the store. She’s in such a hurry, thinking that any moment she’ll begin peeing again, or worse, totally flooding her jeans with everybody watching, that she says to the guard at the door checking membership cards, “I was just in, remember me.” The guard looks blank. “I have to get one more thing, and I really have to use the toilet desperately. I was just in.” The guard smiles and lets them go in. Joanne is sure everybody can see her wet pants and feel more and more flushed.
She gets to the bathroom and runs in just as another large spurt escapes. She pulls her wet jeans and soaking, dripping white cotton panties down as she sits on the toilet just as a final spurt hits the back of her panties and jeans, and finally pees in the toilet. Later she tells me, “ I peed at least half in my pants and only the rest in the toilet. I was so embarrassed, but you know, sitting there looking at my soaked panties sort of yellowed, I thought of how much you’d like what happened…”. She pulled back up her wet panties and jeans, realizing that no one could see her accident due to her long sweater which goes almost to her knees, and walked out, feeling somewhat more confident but quite uncomfortable in her soaking jeans and panties.
She said to me, “ this was the worst accident in years. I was really embarrassed. My pants were wet almost to my knees, although you couldn’t see it. And up my ass too. Thank god I was wearing my sweater. I had to drive straight home to change rather than finish doing my errands. I was really uncomfortable and embarrassed.”
When she got home she went to the bathroom, peeled off her wet jeans and soaked panties. She was wearing white cotton panties, she doesn’t remember what type.
- Joanne was at a conference, but had gone to the hardware store over lunch. Driving back, all of 5 minutes, she had to pee really urgently. She had on tan shorts and a light top. It was hot. She managed to make it to the parking lot, and even into to building. But in the hall she met some people she knew from the conference. One guy started to talk with her, and she, almost running, stopped, saying, “I can’t talk now I’ve got to pee so bad I’m about to pee in my pants…” I have no idea of his reactions, but ran quickly to the toilet, but began, as usual, to dribble in spurts in her panties a few times. She soaked her panties and had a wet spot between her legs, turning her tan shorts dark between her legs. She said that she wasn’t sure any could see, but thought of me and how I would have loved to see her like that. She made sure she sat with her legs closed.
- Tells me about time in France when she peed in her panties under a mini dress, all over the street as she was walking. She was about 23 or 24. She was really embarrassed, not all at once, but in large spurts as she walked, leaving sort of a wet trail on the sidewalk., she said there was really no place to even stand behind a bush. Finally found a vet hospital and asked to use the bathroom. But kept her wet panties on. She was with her (then) husband and another couple. They teased her about wetting her panties. She was embarrassed.
- We met for coffee. I got there first. She comes in all smiles wearing a shortish jean skit and sleeveless top…looks great. I get up and we go to order…she begins to bounce around, I know the signs and she says, smiling coyly, “I’ve really got to pee badly….order me a latte…” and walks quickly to the toilet to one side of the counter. 30 seconds later she comes out, looking agitated, and asks the guy behind the counter why the door is locked to the toilet. He says the waitress in it. She groans saying, “Oh, god, I can barely hold it…” and walks quickly back. I smile at her. She returns a few minutes later, I’m sitting at the table. I ask, “Make in on time?” She again smiles coyly, turning only slightly red, “Almost…” I ask, “How almost?” She leans over and says, “I was standing there waiting for her to come out and actually holding myself under my skirt…I could feel myself dribbling in my panties…There sort of wet…” I’m dying.
Later we leave and go for a walk…getting out of the car Joanne immodestly parts her legs giving me a great view of her white cotton panties with lace on the front….and a large, still pretty damp wet and slightly yellow spot…..I say, “Nice panties, as usual….and you were right about ‘almost.’” She smiles somewhat embarrassed but liking the tease. I could almost have cum in my pants. She adds: “It was running down my legs when I got into the toilet.”
- We’ve not seen each other for many months. We meet in a park, its a very warm sunny day and we walk to a picnic table for a quick lunch. She’s wearing a denim white skirt, ending a few inches above her knees and a green light pullover, knit, through which the light shines if the sun is on the other side of her. Her bra is white, as are her panties, which as she crosses and uncrosses her long, tanned, thin and firm legs peek tantalizingly from beneath her skirt. Her skirt rides up as we sit and talk, she pulls it down, but casually, knowing, I’m sure, that I see her panties.
I ask her, as usual, about any peeing accidents or stories. She smiles, “I know you always ask…Oh, god, yes….but as usual there are so many little ones I really don’t remember even when or where.” I ask, “Any really big ones, like the Wall Mart one.” “No, none like, thank god. That was so embarrassing….” I press on. “Well, tell me about the others, the ones you remember.”
Joanne smiles, crosses her legs, again I see her panties briefly. “Well, the worst time is when I first come to work. I have no idea why, I guess the coffee at home. It’s only a 15–minute drive to work, but I’m always dying to pee when I arrive. I always put it off, too. I’ve always done that…put off going until the last second. I don’t know why…Anyway, the other day I put my things in my office, intending to go the bathroom immediately, but Bill (her boss) stopped her in the hall. I was talking to him, and you know how he can go on and on, and I was too embarrassed to say I needed to pee. I mean, after a few minutes I was literally, shifting from one foot to the other, and then crossing my legs standing there talking to him I had to pee so badly. I couldn’t believe he didn’t notice, but he’s so blind about some stuff.”
“Finally I couldn’t stand it any longer and really thought I was about to pee in my panties when I told him I needed to leave. Then, he must have realized I needed to pee because I’m sure he saw me literally running toward the toilet. Well, as soon as I left I felt the first dribbles…Shit, I thought, I’m not going to make it…but I did, sort of.”
Joanne smiles, teasingly, knowing I love this. “What is sort of?” I asked, my hard on tight in my jeans.
“Well, I kept dribbling, then stopping, then dribbling again….I really thought I’d loose control, but managed to make it without loosing control….but I was pretty wet when I finally got the toilet.”
“How wet? Were your panties dribbling?”
“Almost, yes, and it was beginning to wet my legs….I had to go to my meeting with very wet panties on. They took all morning to dry. God, its awful….I had to actually to leave another meeting the other day because I had to pee so bad…it was embarrassing, everybody knew where I was going. I didn’t dribble, but I knew I couldn’t make it through it and still hold it.”
“I thought of you as I was running to the toilet….I would have come to tell you about it, but you weren’t in.”
I could have kicked myself…I would love to have asked Joanne to show me her wet panties…and in my fantasies I would have loved to have felt them, probably still warm and dribbling, to have licked her panties, maybe made her cum through them while she masturbated me through my pants…right there in my office. But I liked the story a lot.
She finished telling me about her dribbling these months…saying that it mostly happened in the mornings and that was pretty frequent, perhaps daily, but usually she’d just moisten her panties rather than really wet them.
- Joanne and I meet over coffee, and in the last few minutes of the conversation (in November 1995) she tells me of taking her son early on a Saturday morning to his usual baseball game. “I hate it…its at this school, and I drink my usual coffee…and the school always locks the bathrooms. I can’t believe it: what do the kids do, and what do I do? It’s happened a few times but this Saturday was the worst. I got there and left him, and was with my Mom. I had to pee so bad, I mean so bad, I took the dog and told my Mom I had to go the nearest cafe to pee…I couldn’t wait…and I ran out of there …. It would have taken longer to take the car and park, so I walked, ran. I couldn’t hold it, and began to wet my jeans as I walked….at first little dribbles, but then more, and then I got in control…” I was dying, thinking of her. “I got the cafe but I was still going…I got really wet. It was awful…my jeans were wet… between my legs…and down them. I was so embarrassed, I have no idea of people saw me, or how much they could see. I had to walk past the tables in the front….I was sure everyone was looking, but actually I have no idea. My panties were soaking and dripping as I finally got on the toilet….”
I wondered what she looked like. “I put my sweater around my waist…I don’t think you could see…but I really didn’t want to know so I really don’t know how wet I was but I was really wet…and embarrassed. It felt awful.” I smiled, and she said, “I know you love it….but it felt terrible…I was wet all thought he game and couldn’t wait to get home to change. My mother couldn’t believe that this still happens to me. My panties were completely soaked…you would have loved it. And when I got home my jeans were wet well below my crotch…., god, almost to my knees. I guess people did see, if they looked.”
I wanted to see and feel her, I loved the story…
- Late November: Joanne tells me that in the last six or eight weeks almost everyday she dribbles in her panties trying to get the toilet on time, usually in the morning at work….her panties are often damp, sometimes more than that…not big accidents, but constant drippage….Today not only did she dribble when arriving at work, but at the end of one meeting she had to pee really badly. People were talking to her about work and she finally had to interrupt the questions before her next meeting, saying, “I really have to leave right now. I’ve got to pee really badly before the next meeting or I won’t make it.” She then abruptly left and walked quickly to the nearby toilet, but not before dribbling in her panties again….She was wearing light colored jeans which, however, this time she didn’t get wet.
Joanne is funny, sometimes really embarrassed about telling people she needs to go, other times completely out there about it. Whenever we’re together and she goes to pee (often), not desperate and not wetting, she gives me this big, delightful smile…knowing she’s turning me on. She love to flirt and play.
- I meet Joanne for one of our coffees. She looks great when she comes in; long sweater and opaque tights. As she walks in I imagine what it would be like to see pee running down the insider of her legs from beneath her sweater. She smiles, gets coffee and we talk. Somewhere in the conversation I ask my usual question. “Any good, or not so good, accidents? Have you peed in your pants since we I last saw you?” “Oh, God….just the other day.” She puts her pretty head in her hands and actually bends her head as she turns just a hint of blushing red. That’s unusual, but I love it. “What happened? Tell all.”
Joanne recounts the only time since our previous meeting that she’s wet herself, excepting of course her usual little piddles and dribbles which occur almost daily. “I was walking the dog, after my usual coffee. God, I have to pee so badly and so suddenly after coffee, especially in the morning…its awful. I walked the dog, maybe six blocks, I’m not sure. I had to pee almost as soon as I left, but coming back the last few blocks is when it began. The usual, I really had to go, so badly, and squeezed my muscles, but that always means I end up dribbling a little. And it didn’t help too much, I kept having to go. I was pulling the dog from one place to another, he wanted to stop everywhere, and I kept squeezing, and dribbling. I knew my panties were pretty damp a block from the house, but I kept trying to prevent a really big accident by squeezing, and I just kept getting wetter and wetter. I was almost running, and I could feel my panties getting really wet. I was sure my jeans were getting wet too, but I wasn’t about to look. I was almost running and hopping around trying to keep from loosing control.”
I was really hard listening to Joanne, looking at her lovely eyes and pretty face, imagining how she must have looked. “What were you wearing?” “Jeans, boots (it had been raining) and a jacket. And by the time I got to the door I had to take off my boots because they were so muddy…the dog was pulling and I was jumping up and down trying to hold it, but more than dribbling now I was really leaking. I could feel it running out of my panties, I knew I really wet them, down my leg. I finally got my boots off and ran to the toilet, peeing as I went, and pulled my jeans and panties down, and emptied the rest in the toilet. God, my jeans were wet about 6 inches. But at least this time no one saw me like the time in the cafe, that’s so embarrassing.” [See incident #15]
“What panties were your wearing?” “White, with lace on the front, like most of mine. I think they were cotton. They were soaked. I took them off and washed them out and hung up my jeans to dry. I was late to work. God I hated it, but….” as she smiled at me in a cute kind of way, “….I know you like it when I tell you about my misadventures.”
“I love it. I loved the story. I wish I had seen you…I would love to see you wet yourself.”
- I meet Joanne for only a little while. Before she leaves as ask my usual question, but before I even begin to get it out she says: “Yes, yes, I wet my pants, just the other day, quite a lot; it was awful, but I knew you’d love it.” She turns ever so slightly red, which I love. “What happened this time?”
“Well, as you know I absolutely have to have my coffee in the morning, I can’t even begin my day without two cups, but then within a little while I’m just dying to pee and that’s always, or often, a problem, but even if I pee before I leave the house it doesn’t seem to work, I still am desperate within 20 minutes or half an hour. Its really a catch–22 situation, I never know what to do. I was walking with my boyfriend, walking the dog, on a trail in a park…I often go there, and there are quite a few other people walking, too.
“Anyway, no sooner than we’re there I’m dying to pee, and my boyfriend sees that I’m obviously not happy. I tell him I’m dying to pee, but there are no portapotties (I really need to complain to the parks department). After beginning the walk I know I’ll never make it, so he suggests I just go behind a bush and pee, but there is nowhere I can possibly go and not be seen by people.”
I’m getting hard listening to Joanne’s plight. She describes that her boots were muddy by this time and that she was wearing jeans. I imagine her almost jumping around.
“So I decided I was only a five minute drive from home and told my boyfriend to keep the dog and I’d drive home and meet him. After finally getting untangled from the dog’s leash, I got into the car…..God, I was dying, and my boots were all muddy.”
I said, “Sounds like walking the dog is a dangerously wet thing to do.” She smiled and laughed, thinking of the time before when she wet her jeans and had muddy boots on.
“What happened?”
“Well, I had to pee so badly I was trying to drive and take my boots off at the same time since I didn’t want to track mud in the house….and I was really afraid of soaking myself in the car.”
“Did you?”
“No, I managed to make it and get my shoes off, but then getting out of the car I felt the first few spurts, big ones; my panties got soaked very fast and I could feel my jeans getting wet, too. God, I hate it when that happens, I just can’t control myself, not at all.”
“Did you get to the toilet?”
“Yes, I did, but I had to change before I went back to meet my boyfriend. I know you’re going to ask. I had on white silk panties, and they were very wet, dripping. So I changed them and my jeans, which were also wet.”
“How wet were your jeans?”
Joanne turned coy, and cute. “Enough is enough. I’ve got to work. See you later.” “But, “ I responded, “just tell me, how wet did your jeans get…you’ve told me in the past, I love to visualize these things. You know, the devil’s in the details.” She laughed. “You’ll just have to imagine, it more fun that way….Wet enough to have to change. I would have been very embarrassed to be seen that way….I’ll just leave it there.”
I was hard and turned on thinking of Joanne pulling off her wet jeans and yellow stained and dripping silk panties, probably with lace, knowing her taste. Giving up on finding out the details of her soaked jeans I asked, “Any other times?” She smiled, again. “Just the usual little ones, but they happen so often I forget….I’ll see you soon and let you know.
I left, knowing I was going to have coffee with her, and hoping that perhaps I’ll find out more, and sometimes see her hopping around desperate to pee, and then wetting herself. Time will tell.
- Joanne tells a story about a friend.
I got together with Joanne, as usual over lunch. We talked about a lot of things, but eventually came around to me asking if she had had any “interesting accidents.” She smiled, her blond hair blowing in the wind (we were outside) and said, “No, nothing interesting, funny or even large. Just all my usual little dribbles, which happen so often I really don’t remember them individually. But its gotten to the point that my dog knows that towards the end of our walk we always run to the house, stopping for nothing, otherwise I would wet my pants like I did that one time. I always get the door and make a mad dash for the toilet.”
Joanne continued, “But I have a friend, a very pretty woman, who told me the other day about the only time she ever wet her pants, and she completely and totally soaked herself. I mean completely, her jeans were totally wet and a large puddle was around her.” I was smiling and feeling turned on already, imagining as she began to tell the story that Joanne would wet her jeans right then as she told me. But no such luck.
Joanne began. “This woman was driving and was stopped for speeding. The cop pulled her over, this was during the day, and took her license and registration and went to his car to call it in. She knew she had been speeding, and felt nervous, like most people do. She wasn’t at all aware that she had to pee. The cop came back to her and called her by her first name, [I’ll call her Helen]. He said, “Helen, why don’t you step out of the car for a minute.” ‘Helen’ did, and just before she got out read the cops badge and called him by his first name. [I’ll call the cop, Bill.] The cop wanted to make sure she wasn’t driving under the influence, and when she called him Bill, he was clearly not at all happy with her. Helen said to me that she figured that if he called me by my first name, I’d do the same. But he was angry and that made her more nervous…she was sure she was going to get a major ticket.”
At this point I figured that Helen must have really had to pee and Joanne was going to tell me that she wet her pants right there, but that isn’t’ what happened.
Joanne smiled and laughed, thinking about it. “Anyway, Helen told me that as she got out of the car she was so nervous that she forgot to put the car in gear or the break on, and as she was talking to ‘Bill’, her car slowly rolled backwards right into the cop’s new car, making quite a dent in the police car’s bumper. Both of them just stood there looking at her car rolling into his, which happened quickly, and they both walked over. The cop was furious and yelling at her, again calling her by her first name. But no sooner did her begin to yell than Helen completely wet her pants….whoosh…she totally soaked herself and her shoes and the ground….The cop couldn’t believe it and just stood there starring at her, while Helen just kept peeing in her jeans. This must have taken a good 20 seconds or so, since Helen told me she couldn’t stop and there was a very large puddle around her shoes. She was totally surprised and totally out of control. Finally, she stopped and the cop was so appalled and so angry about his car he just told her to “get the hell out of there, go home and never speed again, or wet her pants in front of a police officer.”
Joanne laughed. I told her that was a great story, and she said,“I knew you’d like it. Funny thing is that Helen never before had wet her pants, not ever a close call. Me, I’ve never peed in my pants out of being nervous, only for other reasons, but you know all about those times.”
I told Joanne that it goes to show that wetting your pants sometimes is a very good way to avoid a speeding ticket. She laughed, reminding me of a time she almost, but didn’t, wet her pants while getting a ticket, telling the cop as he was writing it how much she had to pee and how she was about to loose it and soak the car seat and her skirt and couldn’t’ she go to pee. She managed to hold on, and got a ticket. Helen completely wet her pants and got out of a ticket. There must be a lesson here…..
#20
Joanne and I have had a few lunches and coffees over the past months, but she tells me each time that she’s resolved to be very, very careful about visiting the toilet, like voting: early and often. So, to my great disappointment, she says she only dribbled in her panties, barely dampening them, over the past months. No major accidents, no mini–accidents, just a few drops here and there, which, however doesn’t mean that she’s not been desperate, but her planning and carefulness seems to have paid off, at least until the last few weeks.
Ah, I’m very please when she tells me of two new accidents, in spite of what she says is her still carefully planned toilet visits after each cup of coffee, a few times between meals, even if she feels she doesn’t have to go.
The first accident was, again, while walking her dog. She hasn’t peed in her pants while taking her dog for a morning walk for quite a while since she always has her coffee after the walk, and then visits the toilet before driving to work, or to do errands. But this particular morning she had slept late. It was Saturday and the dog didn’t seem in a hurry to go out, so she had coffee, read the paper, talked with her son, went to pee, and took the dog for a walk. It was a hot day and she decided to take a long walk. She wore a tan pair of shorts, tight but not really that short, and a white top. She seems to take pleasure in telling me the story in some detail. I was very turned on, sitting across from her in a park, looking at her long, thin legs tightly wrapped in jeans as we spoke.
Joanne smiled, saying: “ As I walked toward home, perhaps three or four blocks, I really, really had to pee…all of a sudden. I thought, ‘oh, shit’, I can’t even walk my dog and ever drink coffee.’ After two blocks I was really desperate, and found myself thinking of you. I knew you’d love my predicament, but while that was nice, I didn’t like it at all. I felt the first little dribbles, and as usual, contracted my muscle, which made more dribble…I knew my panties were pretty damp after the first dribbles. I made it to within one block of my house and began to run, but my dog…he must be like you…I had to pull him along, slowing me down. I was beginning to dribble again, and each time I’d contract my muscles, I’d pee more in my panties. I was afraid I was wetting my shorts, but didn’t dare look. Then a few houses from mine I felt more than dribbles…some spurts and I knew my shorts were getting wet. I stopped and crossed my legs, and then looked up. A neighbor was standing in his driveway, just ahead of me…It was obvious I was desperate. He smiled and said, ‘Hi’. I was embarrassed, standing there legs crossed, not knowing how wet or visible I was.”
“ I managed to say Hi back, and then run to my door without going more, but at the door way I lost it and really began to wet my shorts. I felt my pee running down my legs, and then managed to stop it again as I fumbled for my key. My dog was jumping around and I was too. As I got the door open I just dropped by keys, let the dog go and grabbed myself as I felt myself begin to pee again. My hand was wet and worse as I ran to the toilet I passed by son on the portable phone. He blurted out, “Mom, you’re peeing in your pants!!” God, I was embarrassed, not that he hadn’t seen me wet myself before, he had, as you know. He, too, sometimes still wet his pants…I’ve told you that. But he was on the phone with god knows who…and they of course now knew.”
“I got the toilet and pulled down my shorts and panties, peeing as I did and wetting them further. I finished in the toilet, looking at the soggy mess, angry at myself, but also amused and still thinking of you. I washed off and wrapped myself in a towel, went to my room and put on dry panties and a dress. My son was now off the phone, and I asked who he was talking to. It turned out to be his good friend Eric, who was often at our house. Clearly Eric now knew I wet my pants. I asked my son what he told Eric. He said, “Not much Mom. I guess I was surprised as you walked in the door…Eric said, “What? Your Mom what?” I repeated it, and said that sometimes happened to her, that is, you. He didn’t say more.”
“That was the end of that, and I knew you’d want to know in all the details.”
I was feeling like I’d cum in my pants from hearing Joanne tell me the story, but I asked about the other time.
The second was driving to work. It happened a few weeks later. Again, Joanne had left the house a lot later than usual, and had had coffee and a visit to the toilet to pee, just as a preventive measure, as is now her habit. She stopped to do an errand, making her trip to work about 45 minutes, as compared to the usual 15 or 20. The last 10 minutes she was dying to pee, and ended up driving with her hand held against her panties. She wore a blue skirt and matching jacket and a white blouse. The skirt came a few inches above her knee. Each time she had to shift and push the clutch in with her left leg she felt ready to soak herself, but actually managed to hold on until she got to the parking lot at work. She had to park far from her usual spot since she was late and all the other places were taken. As she stepped from her car she felt the first ominous involuntary dribble into her white cotton panties. She knew she’d never be able to make it to her office, at least a five minute walk and elevator ride, if she didn’t have to wait too long for the elevator.
She didn’t know what do to, and was debating peeing in the lot, although there were a few cars some distance from her and no one else seemed to be around, but she was pretty visible.
I smiled as she recounted this. She continued: “I began to walk, but only got about three cars from mine when a really large spurt really soaked my panties and began to trickle down my legs. I had no choice but to pee right where I was. I looked around and was about to pull up my skirt and pull my panties down and squat when I saw a car drive around to near where I parked. While not right next to me, I could see the driver and he was close by. I froze, but I then ended up peeing some more, and now felt my legs wet to almost my knees. I kept hoping I wasn’t wetting my skirt. I had no choice and just pulled up my skirt and was about to pull down my already very wet panties when I couldn’t hold back another second and just began peeing in my panties, standing there, my skirt around my waste, my legs wide apart. I heard my pee splash on the ground and didn’t want to get my shoes wet, so I ended up squatting down while I was still peeing and finished that way. Unfortunately in that position the backside of my panties began to get very wet, also, and I knew I couldn’t just pull my skirt down. So when I finished I took them off, squeezed them out and put them in my purse. I walked pantiless to work, my legs still wet, and finally washed myself out, rinsed my panties out.”
I listened to Joanne’s two stories, very hard, almost flushed, asking her when I was ever going to get to witness an accident. She smiled, saying who knows, she doesn’t plan them. Perhaps she’ll have a few more in the coming months, but these two have been all to exceptional in the recent past.
- Joanne’s Hike
I met Joanne for our usual coffee, except that we hadn’t seen each other for quite a while. After talking about our lives, events, work, girlfriends and boyfriends, kids, and the like I was about to ask a question just as Joanne said, “I’ll be right back, I really gotta pee all of a sudden,” giving me a sly smile as she got up to leave. She had on very tight pants (leggings of sorts), dark but not black, and I of course wondered what she’d look like if she wet herself walking/running to the toilet. But no such luck. She returned in about a minute.
Leaving interrupted the flow of our previous conversation (so to speak), and I asked her, “Tell me, have you wet your pants since we last talked?” She smiled, “Yes, but only once, not counting the daily dribbles of course. You’ll like what happened.”
Of course she told me. She and her boyfriend had been on vacation in a warm place. The dialog is my reconstruction of what she said as best I can remember it.
“We had gone on a hike, not really an empty place, but not a lot of people either. I’m not sure how long we had been gone, maybe an hour, perhaps two. We were walking on this trail and I began to really have to pee. You know me, it comes on suddenly. Anyway, after five minutes I figured I really better find a place. I really don’t know what I was doing, probably fidgeting a lot, but he’s sensitive to such things, I guess because he’s the same way. Anyway, my boyfriend said I should really pee, so I looked around for a bush. The trail had few bushes and no trees and everything was pretty flat, but there was a small bush sort of off the trail, but not really.
“I went behind the bush, not really desperate but certainly really wanting to go badly. I squatted down and began to pee. My boyfriend couldn’t see me from the trail, but anyone walking either way could. I had just begun when my boyfriend said, ‘Someone’s coming.’ I looked up and sure enough, a couple was walking down the trail. I have no idea of they saw me squatting, and it wouldn’t have been a big deal if they did, but somehow with my boyfriend there I just panicked and pulled up my panties and shorts.
“But, you’ll love this, I couldn’t stop peeing. I mean not at all….I just peed into my pants as I pulled them up, and continued peeing, I mean full force, once I had them on. It was really dumb. There I was zipping my shorts and pulling up the fly to look presentable while I wet my shorts.”
I asked, “How much did you wet yourself?”
“Completely. I had peeing pouring down my legs, my shorts were soaking and I could feel it warming my butt. My socks and shoes even got wet. So, and this is really funny, as the couple walked by there I was standing there zipping up and wetting my pants right in front of them. I wasn’t really embarrassed, but felt really dumb.”
“What color were your shorts?,” I asked.
“Jean cut offs. Blue, not dark but not light. And, yes, it was obvious I wet my pants. I know, yes, my panties were white…some lace, cute ones, small. But no one saw them.”
“So, the couple left, after looking at me strangely, and walked on. My boyfriend asked me why I wet my pants, and I told him I just couldn’t stop, that once you begin peeing if you really have to go bad, its hard and sometimes impossible to stop.
“We ended up cutting the day short since I had to go to where we were staying and change. On the way back quite a few people looked at me. You would have loved it, it was so obvious I had wet my pants. But it was funny, the only reason I peed in them is because I pulled them up. All the times I’ve peed in my pants by accident, that was the first time I peed in them because I pulled them up in a panic.”
“We walk and passed a few people, and then got a river near the car and I walked in and rinsed off, getting my shorts pretty wet in the process. People by the little beach there must have thought it was weird, as I splashed my legs and shorts, soaking them. I know a few people saw me walk in wet, so they probably figured out what happened.”
So, again, another wonderful (for me) Joanne story, even though I didn’t see her. Too bad we spend so little time together, mostly over coffee in a cafe with a toilet.
#22
It’s been a while since Joanne has had anything but the smallest dribbles, as she says, ‘not worth talking about.’ However, this past week changed all that. Joanne began describing these two peeing accidents on the phone, and a few days later filled in some of the details in person.
#23
It was a very warm day, but since Joanne had an important appointment, about which she was quite anxious, she decided to wear a long skirt and darkish top. Underneath she wore a black bra and matching black cotton panties with a lace applique on the front. She drove in the morning after drinking two cups of coffee and going to the bathroom two times before she left. The drive was about 30 minutes, but by the time she was nearing the office she had to be at she was desperate to pee. She figured that she’d ring the buzzer (although she was a little early), find a toilet in time, or barely in time. But it didn’t happen that way.
She rang the buzzer to the office, but it seems the buzzer is hooked up into the phone lines so that if the person in the office is using the phone, the buzzer/intercom rings busy. Indeed, it was busy, and Joanne by this time, after having rung three times, was standing with her legs crossed and feeling the first dribbles emerging into her panties.
As you may remember from the previous Joanne reports, she tends to wet herself when desperate by spurting (more than a dribble), interrupted by periods of control, and then another, often larger, spurt. This can go on for many minutes all the while as she becomes more and more desperate, and wetter and wetter. (Although this is her usual wetting mode, she has on occasion flooded all at once beyond her control.)
This was the first time at this office building and she walked quickly, managing to control herself, to the corner to look for a caf’ or restaurant where she could dash into the toilet. But, alas, none was to be found on the main street. Looking up and down the street she felt another major spurt, her panties by this time now soaked and pee beginning to run down her leg. She said that she remembered thinking she was really glad she wore a long skirt. She was now panicked. Seeing another office building next to the one she wanted to go into, she dashed inside and asked the first receptionist she was where the toilets were. The receptionist pointed down the hall. Joanne walked quickly feeling another spurt dribble down her legs as she talked to the receptionist.
But you needed a key in order to get in, and another spurt push through her wet panties. She could feel pee running down to her knees at this point and was really panicked.
Why she didn’t ask for the key I’m not sure (I’ll have to find out), but she went to the next floor up, where she say a pregnant woman about to go to the (locked) bathroom on that floor. She followed closely behind her, now an even bigger spurt running down below her knees, and, as she said, “Went into the toilet stall and managed to pee whatever little was left into the toilet. I was totally soaked, and had to go get wet toweling to clean myself up. But my panties were really wet, and they took hours to dry. I was so thankful I had on a long skirt, I don’t know what I would have done if I was wearing pants. I sat through hours of interviews in wet panties hoping they wouldn’t leak onto my skirt.”
#24
Having wet her panties only three days before she was at the same office building. Again hot, this time she wore a multicolored pants suit, think material, and white panties and bra underneath. The panties were, again, cotton ones with lots of lace, her favorite type. Again making sure she used the toilet before she left, nevertheless she was desperate to pee when she parked a few blocks away. The last block before the office she told her son, “We have to run, I really have to pee badly.” The incident earlier in the week was uppermost in her mind, hoping (but not against hope, it turned out) that the buzzer would be free. She managed not to pee while ringing the buzzer, and it was not busy. She, her son in tow, flew up the stairs, left him in the office while she dashed to the toilet.
Now, wearing a pantsuit for women whose desperation is common is always an error, unless deep down they like to have accidents. I don’t know about Joanne, except she clearly enjoys telling me about her many accidents. The first spurt escape into her white panties at the toilet door, as she immediately squeezed her legs together, stopping the flow. Her panties somewhat wet. Unbuttoning as fast as she could, another spurt, larger this time, soaked her panties as she was pulling the top off one shoulder, and then another spurt as she pulled it over her panties, and a third one just as she was about to pull her panties down.
She sat down quickly on the toilet, letting out her pee quickly and surveying her wet panties. “Very wet, soaking,” is how she described them. She was so concerned about how wet her panties were (trying to dry them somewhat with toilet paper) that she didn’t check her pants. She pulled up the wet panties and her pants suit and went into the waiting room to join her son. She sat next to him on a bench with some pillows to sit on. A minute or two later she realized that her wet panties and wet crotch (and legs?) were actually leaving a wet spot on the pillow, so she turned it over. She says she still doesn’t know how wet her pantsuit got, but nobody could tell it was wet from the various colors which tended to hide the wet patch. I look forward to the next visit to an office that Joanne has.
#25
I spoke with Joanne this morning after a few weeks of not talking or seeing her. I asked her about her next visit to the office described in #23 and #24. She said she was extra careful about not drinking more than one cup of coffee and that she stayed completely dry, although when she walked in the door the receptionist, without being asked, said that the bathroom was free. I guess Joanne has a reputation for urgency wherever she goes.
I told her that while disappointed I bet she was not and she agreed. When I then asked her if in the past weeks she’d wet her pants at all, she said not, not even little dribbles, since she had pretty much been around the house or at a vacation house, a toilet always in easy reach. I reminded her that there had been plenty of times she told me about when she wet her panties when while at home, especially if she was talking on the phone (the non portable (potable?) one.
The conversation moved on to other things, but before it ended (this was a phone conversation) I mentioned to her that my significant other (whom I’ll call Sara) had wet her pants a few weeks back. (Someday I’ll get around to writing up a history of Sara’s accidents…they are many, big and small, and go back to when she was 15 or so, and continue to the present….joy). I told Joanne that Sara and I had been on a walk and that she mentioned a few blocks before we got to my house that she had to pee, but that’s so ordinary I actually didn’t pay much attention. Getting into house there was a message on the answering machine for her, and she listened to it. Joanne interrupts, saying isn’t is “stupid that women who too often wet themselves, myself included, will listen to phone messages instead of using the toilet.” I agreed, but added that stupid was nice.
I continued telling Joanne that after the message, Sara stood crossed legged, one leg in front of the other…a favorite position to control herself. Joanne said she knew the position very well….it was quite effective. Sara then walked a few more steps, and again when into that position, but this time didn’t manage to hold it and began to wet her pants. She was wearing beige loose pants, and at first I couldn’t see if she really was wetting them. She held herself and managed to get into control, but she wet herself perhaps six inches down the insides of her legs. I laughed, as did she, running to the toilet and pulling down her pants and wet panties….which were spread tightly across her legs as she sat on the toilet. Nice, white cotton ones with lace in the front, and a lovely very wet, slightly yellowed crotch.
I didn’t go into all the details with Joanne, but she said she’d done the same things. There was a moment of silence, as I was just about to change the topic. Joanne said, “God, I just remembered. Your story of Sara wetting her pants made me remember.”
“I went into the office about a week ago [she’s been working from home over the summer] and on the way I really had to pee, I mean I really had to go. I ran into Dan [a co–worker] who was real excited about a house he and his wife were just about to buy as a second home. Since I knew a lot about the area of the house he was really anxious to talk to me and ask lots of questions. I would love to help him, its in a beautiful area of the country, but I was almost about to pee right there. I was trying to cross my legs without being to obvious.”
I asked, “Why didn’t you tell him you need to use the toilet?” “I would have been embarrassed,” which I consider odd since I’ve heard her tell people she was desperate to pee. “I finally cut the conversation short and managed not to begin wetting my panties. I ran, and I mean ran, toward the toilets, but no sooner in the door than I wet my panties, quite a bit. I think it was also running down my legs, but I was in such a hurry I really don’t remember. It was very hot and I was wearing a short dress, so only my panties got wet.”
I asked about what type of panties she had on, but she said she honestly didn’t remember.
“God I love your accident stories. I really do. Someday I want to see you wet yourself.” Joanne responded that she was sure that would happen someday, and reminded me that I had seen her in wet panties after she had wet them. I’ll see her soon, so who knows, perhaps my luck will turn.
#26
Its been quite a while since there is anything to report in Joanne’s life, at least about any accidents. Its been a pretty dry few months, she’s been trying to keep it that way, and until last week, with the most success she ever had. She says she’s been very attentive to always going to the bathroom before driving, after walking the dog, before work meetings, and the like. I tell her for me its taking away some of the wonderfully vicarious fun I have with her; she smiles, and tells me that for her it means not walking around in wet panties and pants (which she’s never found conformable, in fact she hates the feel of) and not being embarrassed at wetting herself. But all good things can’t last, and last week broke the drought.
In fact, it happened shortly after we had lunch, during which time we both drank tea. As I recall, and Joanne’s confirms, we didn’t actually drink all that much tea, but she had not been feeling well and ate very little, which she says always makes her have to pee more, and more quickly. We had met at the restaurant, and she drove off to pick up her son after school. (It was a very late lunch.) She was wearing a blue short sleeve shirt, lovely earrings, and blue pants, neither dark nor light, sort of medium. Tight.
She didn’t go the toilet on the way out, which she sometimes does, but she (as is her wont) didn’t think of it. She drove the 10 or less minutes to pick up her son, was on time, as was he. But by the time she pulled up to wait for him, she was feeling really desperate. It came on her all of a sudden. Waiting she wished that her son would walk quickly, or run to the car, since driving would feel better than just sitting waiting. She began to squirm in her seat a little, but felt she could make it home. There was nowhere to find a toilet where she was waiting.
Let me try to get her words as best I can remember them.
J: I was really anxious for my son to get in; God, I had to pee and this hasn’t happened in quite a while. I kept thinking that my son was taking his time, but actually he was just walking regularly. He finally got in and I told him to hurry I had to go to the toilet really badly. I drove home hoping for no traffic.
A: Was there any?
J: Actually, not at all…it took less than 10 minutes, but I had to hold myself the last few blocks….I had to pee so badly I thought I’d really start wetting the seat.
A: Did you?
J: No, it wasn’t that bad at all. Sorry, for you. But I did pee in my pants. I got home ok, maybe a dribble, but I don’t count those, but getting from the garage to the toilet was another matter. I just couldn’t hold it and as soon as I closed the car door I started, you know my usually spurts, trying to hold it, then another. I felt myself getting wet…I ran, but that always makes it work since I have less control. Anyway, by the time I got the to toilet I was wetting my panties and pants. I finally got there, legs crossed but still going, and pulled down my pants and panties and finished.
A: How wet were you?
J: Enough to have to put my pants and panties in the dirties and change.
A: But how much did you wet yourself….to your knees?
J: No, not like that, maybe three inches on my pants, but my panties were soaked.
A: What type of panties, you know me, I love panties and details.
[Joanne smiles broadly….]
J: I know, that’s why I tell you all this. I honestly don’t remember, I’m sure they were white given what I was wearing. I always try to match my bra and panties to what I wear. Like now, I have on a pink bra and panties, matching my shirt. I don’t remember what type of white panties I had on. I have so many. Anyway, I changed and put the wet clothes in the hamper.
A: God, that turns me on, you wetting your pants after our lunch. Someday I’ll see you that desperate. [Joanne smiled.] So, that was the only time in the last few months?
J: That was it. There was one really close call. The bathroom stalls in the building where I work have needed fixing for some weeks, and finally they were fixing them. I was on the phone and was totally desperate to pee, but the toilet is right near my office. I run in there, no problem, except that there is this guy fixing the stalls. I wouldn’t mind going into a stall while he’s there, but the doors are off them, and I wasn’t about to pee in front of him. I said, “I need the toilet.” I was clearly desperate, probably moving from foot to foot. He said something like why not use the ones down the hall, and I told him, “I need it NOW…I can’t make it down the hall.” I really thought I was about to start wetting my pants (I had on pants) in front of him, but he got the idea and left real fast. I peed, not even a dribble in my panties, and left. I saw him outside and he said, “That was really fast.” I told him I really needed to go, and he said something like, “No kidding, I realized I shouldn’t wait another second…” I smiled.
A: Well, I wonder what it would have been like if he had been like me, and took his time.? [I smiled, she smiled back.]
J: I probably would have both had wet pants and just as I began to wet my panties would have pulled down my pants in front of him…who knows.
We talked some more about other things, eventually coming back to a brief discussion of peeing and sex on the internet, and Joanne asking me if some women were into it. I told her some that I knew of, but more guys.
J: I know this is a fantastic turn on for you, but I hate the feeling of wet clothes. When I was little and wet my pants, sometimes it actually felt good because of the release and how desperate I would get. But after I’d wet my pants, I always hated the feeling of them turning cold. I still do, I hate being cold on cold days, and I hate the feeling of wet clothes on me. I guess that’s why I have such a hard time really understanding what turns you and others on about wetting.
A: Some people like the wet clothes; and the release is worth it even if you don’t. Also something about orgasmic releases, taboos, and the like.
J: I’ve never had many taboos. That’s not part of it for me. I like breaking taboos. And I don’t really get very embarrassed, as you know. God, the times I’ve obviously wet my pants I don’t like, but I don’t get embarrassed. You know I often tell people about what happened.
Time had run out, and we agreed to continue talking about it. Hopefully the drought is over. Over lunch we drank tea….I wonder what happened after we left?
#27
As usual I met Joanne for a quick coffee. Little time talking about anything peeing or sexual related, except briefly. I asked her about accidents, she said she had had none.
A: Not even little dribbles?
J: Oh, those. Of course, you know I can rarely go a day without dribbling in my panties on the way to the toilet. I don’t even think about those they happen so often.
A: Urge incontinence?
J: Guess so…You know, even thinking about a toilet makes me desperate if I have to pee, especially if I have to pee badly. Seeing one is worse, and trying to get your pants down, or pantihose, or whatever is really difficult. So I often dribble.
A: How wet do you get your panties usually?
J: Not much, just a small spot. I don’t think about it is happens so much.
A: Guess that makes for interesting stains in the laundry.
J: If you like women’s soiled panties it does. [She smiles at me.] I know you do….
#28
I met Joanne for breakfast and we spent over an hour and a half together. She was wearing a great looking turtle neck, emphasizing her small shoulders and her pert and lovely breasts. Her shoulder length hair fell in front and back. She wore skin tight pants, not really jeans, but cut like jeans, accented by a wide belt. Her ass push against her pants, especially as she walked. I loved looking at her from the moment we met this morning.
We had been talking maybe 45 minutes, when all of a sudden, me in the middle of talking, Joanne looks at me and smiling a knowing and teasing smile says, “I really gotta pee bad…I’ll be right back.” I look at her lovely ass swaying back and forth on the way to the toilet, imagining her not making it. Ah, luck, a woman and her small daughter get in before Joanne. She returns to the table, fidgeting. “I’ll sit, its easier than standing. And if I stood everyone would see me jumping around. God, I have to pee so badly.”
I ask her why she waited.
Joanne: You know. I wanted to hear what you were talking about, so I held it, but then all of a sudden, god I really have to pee. That woman will take a long time with her little girl.
Joanne is crossing and uncrossing her legs, her chair pulled back from the table giving her more room. She bends forward, squeezing her legs together. I almost expect her to hold herself, but she doesn’t. I’m very hard, and she’s pretty desperate. She swivels in her chair, recrossing her legs, looking at the toilet door. “I’ve got to pee so badly….”
Me: Are you going to make it?
J: I’d better, I have to go to work.
Me: I could drive you home to change if you didn’t make it.
J: [smiling] Don’t even think such thoughts…..God, I hope she’s done fast, but little kids take so long. Why is there just one toilet here?
Me: You could try the men’s.
J: I don’t wan to make a scene…
Me: You’d prefer to sit there jumping around and maybe have an accident?
J: I wont have one! God…..
The door opens, and she jumps up, walking quickly, her legs somewhat together. She goes in and returns a few minutes later. I ask, “Did you make in on time?”
J: Yes, too bad for you, I actually did. No problem.
#29
As usual I met Joanne on a somewhat warm day, given the rains that have been all too frequent, to have coffee before lunch time. We sat outside, with few people around. Joanne came in (or, onto the terrace) wearing green slacks, a white shirt and jacket, and nice tie boots. Her blond hair fell across her face as the light winds blew. Her shirt provided the bare, and tantalizing outline, of her lace bra. Also as usual we talked about her friends, work and the like. She told me she had just come from a library (at a local university) where she had to do some work looking up various material for her job.
J: You would have liked it there to day.
Me: Why?
J: Because as I was almost done working, I just have maybe 15 or fewer minutes of stuff to do sitting at one of those large desks in the reference room, and, well you know me: I really had to pee, really bad, but didn’t want to collect all my stuff, go upstairs to the bathroom, and come back down and set up again. I thought I could hold it…
Me: Didn’t make it, again?
J: Patience, I’ll tell the story. Anyway, I was sitting there working, crossing my legs back and forth, thinking I can do it, and finally finished, picked up my stuff, put it in my bag, and went upstairs. I really did have to pee, but it wasn’t an emergency or anything. Who do I meet at the top of the stairs but this guy, who I hadn’t seen for a long time. And he talked and talked, and I was standing there with my legs crossed for who knows how long, and finally told him I need to find the bathrooms, which were pretty close by, and then I needed to get back to work.
Me: And what happened?
J: I left, walking quickly, feeling like I was ready to burst…and as soon as I got into the toilet door felt the first spurt in my panties…quite a bit, but managed to stop it. [I smiled broadly…Joanne smiled back.] I knew you’d like this.
Me: What happened?
J: I stopped to get back into control, crossing my legs and then held myself. Thank god there was an empty stall, but you know me: when I see a toilet things get much worse, not better. I got to the stall and another spurt. I really hurried, put my stuff down and began to undo my pants, my legs crossed, and another spurt, this one pretty long just as I had my hands on my pants to pull them down. Again I managed to stop it, but I could feel myself getting quite wet. I pulled my pants down, now bent over, and began to pee even before I got my panties down…I pulled them down still peeing, and got them somewhat wet on the backside.
Me: So, what type of panties do you have on? And how long ago did this all happen?
J: Maybe an hour or so, actually a little less. Panties? The type I like most: white cotton, lace on the front, cute and sexy. I got them really quite wet. Finally they were down and I was sitting peeing; god, what a relief. I looked at my panties and they were really wet. I tried to pat them some with toilet paper to get them a little drier, but that really didn’t help too much. But then I looked at my pants….Look.
At this point Joanne opened her legs up, sitting to one side of the table. God, while she dried some, there was a large wet patch from her crotch perhaps 4 or 5 inches down the insides of her legs. Not on her butt, but just the insides. The darkness of the wet area contrasted with the lighter green of her slacks. You probably couldn’t see it unless she had her legs apart, and I didn’t see it as she walked in, but it was totally obvious she had an accident in her pants. Needless to say, I was hard in an instant.
Me: God, you look great…that’s a turn on. Did anyone see you, guess not since its not obvious except in this position. Its lovely to look at you that way in wet pants.
I was somewhat speechless. Joanne smiled.
J: I didn’t do this for you, really, but thought you’d like to see it since it happened anyway. Enjoy it….
She smiled coyly, and closed her legs. I wanted to touch her, rub her wetness into her, feel the outlines of her probably much wetter panties…but then, I’ve wanted to do all that and more for a long time…but ours is a friendship and not physical…too bad. But I loved the story and the view….I can’t wait for summer when Joanne often wears short skirts and dresses…perhaps a good view of her panties.
#30
I had a very quick coffee with Joanne today. She looked wonderful as usual; black skirt and top, not too short, but giving me a nice view of her legs, although not her panties…too bad.
It was very rushed and we talked much too quickly about a lot of things, and only as we were leaving did I ask her my usual question, which actually the last time I didn’t ask her. Here is more or less what we said:
A: So, have you wet your pants, or are you still in a dry spell?
J: [smiling broadly] Actually, yes I did, well, not much, actually hardly at all, but enough to have to change. I was home.
A: What happened?
J: I was doing odds and ends around the house…things I had to do, this and that, no reasons I couldn’t use the toilet. I don’t know why, but I so often put it off…which is so stupid since, you know me, I can’t hold it well at all. I’ve gotten better about times out of the house (sort of), but at home….
A: So, what happened?
J: I finally had to go so badly, I ran to the bathroom, but started going before I got there. I had to change.
A: You had on pants or a skirt?
J: Pants, and white panties, the kind you like; cotton, some lace.
A: How wet were you?
J: Wet enough…not soaking.
A: Did your pants get wet? You had to change them, too?
J: Yes, I had on white pants also…and had to change both them and my panties. I don’t know why I keep doing that, I mean why I wait so long. I’m not like you; I don’t like peeing in my panties…I’ve gotten used to it, but I don’t like it.
A: I find it really interesting that you’ve always waited so long, even though you say you neither like holding it and waiting, or the often predictable result of wetting your panties.
At that point we were both running late, and that was the end of the conversation. She did add that her pants were wet a few I inches down the insides of her thighs. She was alone in the house.
#31
I met Joanne for lunch today. We talked about a variety of things. I intended to ask her if she’d had any accidents since we last talked about her wetting, which had been about three weeks, but she beat me to the punch. Here’s more or less what the conversation was like.
J: Listen, I have to tell you, I had an accident today.
A: Wow, today, at work? [ I peered over the table to look at Joanne’s gray and tight slacks.]
J: No, not at work thank God. This morning, I thought you’d love to know.
A: Of course, tell me…what a happened.
J: I woke up very early and was alone in the kitchen, reading the paper. There were a lot of articles which I was really into, and on my second cup of coffee. I kept having to pee, and then really badly, but kept putting it off. Its so stupid, I do that so often, thinking I can make it. I was squirming in my chair, crossing my legs, I even was holding myself toward the end, thinking ‘This is really stupid…’ But I didn’t go, just wanting to finish the paper.
A: And what happened?
J: I finally had to go so bad even I knew there was no way I was going to make it. I could barely stand up straight. As I did stand up I began to spurt, one then another. [She looked at me, smiling, loving the tease.] You like this, no?
A: God yes, I’m so turned on just imagining you. You must have still been in your tee shirt or night shirt. Were you wearing panties?
J: No, not a night shirt. I was completely dressed for work. I’d showered, and gotten dressed completely.
A: You were completely dressed? Wow…what were you wearing?
J: The same type of pants I have on now, but tan.
A: And panties, what type?
J: The ones you gave me. [Some years back I had given her a pair of great white cotton panties, French, with lace on the legs and waist. They are some of her favorite ones.]
A: You still have those in wearable condition? I’m impressed.
J: Yes, of course. I wash all my lingerie by hand. I love those panties, and wanted to wear them today, knowing I’d be seeing you.
A: Hmmmm…guess they never made it, seems appropriate you peed in the however.
J: [She laughs quite a bit.] Sure does.
A: So what happened, now I can see you all dressed beginning to wet your pants.
J: I stood up and felt my panties getting wet. Rather than try to stop, I had to go so bad I just ran to the bathroom, wetting on the way, and once inside yanked my pants and panties down still peeing…I was really wet. I had to change. I put my wet clothes in the laundry and walked into our bedroom. My husband was half awake, and I walked in completely dressed and made up from the top, but nude on the bottom. He was so tired he seemed confused, but didn’t ask or comment. He often comments if I’ve wet my pants and have to change, or even if I’m really desperate.
A: Wow…how much did you wet you pants?
J: Quite a bit, I’m not really sure. I knew I had to change, I was soaked. Not like to my knees to anything, but my panties were soaking and the insides of my pants were really wet, maybe 5 or 8 inches, I really didn’t look.
A: I’m so turned on. I wish I could have seen you. I have known you all these years, and I’ve only once seen the results of you wetting your panties, that one time after we had coffee, you had on a skirt, white I think. Remember? No, you had on pants…I only wish I had seen your panties wet…. But I’ve never actually seen you have an accident.
J: Well, someday I guess the odds are on it, no?
A: Yes, maybe someday you’ll help the odds by purposefully waiting….
J: Its so weird and stupid. I know I often can’t hold it, and wet my pants, but I so often just procrastinate and hold off, finishing this task, like reading the paper this morning. I just wanted to finish, and I could barely sit still.
A: Sara is the same way.
J: She does the same thing, just waits, and sometimes its too late right? I don’t understand.
A: Yes, she often will be dying to pee, but listen to her phone messages, or look at the mail first, and then jump around, doing a pee dance, or holding herself….
J: Exactly, that’s what I was doing, I was holding myself sitting there, reading, telling myself I could make it. I didn’t.
A: Yup, I love it. I love desperation, you waiting, and then beginning to wet your pants.
J: I know. I like telling you about my accidents.
A: Any others, or is this it. I like that you beat me to the punch telling me.
J: Well, it seem appropriate since it happened this morning.
A: God, I can see how great you must have looked trying to make it and loosing control. I would love to have seen how you looked in your wet panties, they are great panties.
J: Yes, I love those panties, but I didn’t stop to look at them, just took them off. [Her guy] says its so strange the way I have to pee all of a sudden. He’s seen me desperate and wetting so many times.
A: Well, really sorry I missed it.
We ended that part of the conversation, and as we walked to the parking lot I said I loved that she told me first about her accident without me having to ask. She said she liked telling me, and found it funny, strange and nice that I found her accidents so much of a turn on.
- Joanne’s End of Summer Accidents: three accidents in two days
About a week ago Joanne and I went for a long walk in the country. It was very, very hot and she wore a short jean skirt and a tight top and sneakers. I was totally taken with her dress (or lack of it), and her long legs. While Joanne had to that point a dry summer (aside from her usual dribbles and spurts), toward the end of our walk she tied her shoe, affording me a wonderful upskirt view of her white panties with lace on the front. Her crotch was totally revealed for about 5 seconds as she tied. She knew I was looking at her panties, smiled as she put her leg down from the bench it was on. I said, “Nice panties, as usual. But I thought you told me you hadn’t had any accidents all summer…you’re panites are, well, a little stained.” Actually, much of her crotch was clearly yellowed, if entirely dry. “I always tell you, I can’t possibly keep track of all the times I dribble, especially when I have to pee badly just before I get to the toilet. I sometimes don’t even think about it happens so much…to me that’s not really an accident at all.” I smiled, hard as hard could be, the image hardwired in my brain. Still is, gotta love white panties with pee stains on view when a woman ties her shoes.
Anyway, that was last week and Joanne, as I said, told me she had not had an accident since last spring, and that with a fair amount of travelling she did over the summer. One close call, she told me, but she managed to hold on and not even dribble.
However when we met yesterday she initiated the conversation. Dressed in a similar jean skirt (just below mid thigh), and a different but very tight sleeveless top, we walked. About 10 minutes into talking and catching up about this and that she said, “Listen, I know you’ll love this. Yesterday and the day before I had three accidents, really, three in two days.” I was all ears, and didn’t have to even ask her to tell me in detail.
“God, the first happened the day before yesterday, at work. I had this awful schedule, meetings in different buildings scheduled back to back, and presentations. Toward the end of one meeting I was dying to pee, and a few people wanted to talk to me afterwards, and I had to. I was almost standing with my legs crossed and bent over. I was in such a hurry afterwards to get to the toilet that in the hall I tripped, I have no idea over what, and I felt myself spurt in my panties. I managed to control it, but I knew I was wet. I was wearing light tan pants, God it would have been awful if I had really wet them a lot, totally obvious, but I didn’t. And yes, white cotton panties, lace all over. Anyway, I managed to get into the bathroom, but as soon as I began to undo my pants by the toilet I began to really spurt as I pulled them down. For some reason I pulled my pants down alone, and had my panties still on. I think I was concentrating so much on not wetting that I wasn’t thinking about doing both at the same time. So, I got them down, and then just as I was pulling my panties down I really let go, soaking my panties but thank god, not my pants. My underwear was really wet, and I sat down and peed a lot, and then tried to wipe my panties dry as best I could. I checked out my pants, and there was a small wet spot, but it was very hard to see.”
I was totally turned on as we walked. I told Joanne that was one of three, what happened the other two, I asked.
“The other two,” she began, “both happened at home. It would have been awful at work. One in the morning, one in the afternoon, late afternoon. I was getting ready for work, ready to leave the house. I had to pee really, really badly. I was dressed for work, skirt, top shoes. I began to wet my panties, and I mean a lot…pee going down my legs, all of a sudden I just couldn’t hold it. Anyway, I ran to the toilet…by the time I got there I was soaked…peeing on the floor, panties totally wet, my skirt was dry. Yes, white cotton panties, simple that day, no lace, just plain cotton. I was peeing in them when I lifted my skirt and pulled them down. I had to wipe the floor afterwards I wet so much. Thank God I didn’t do that at work. I washed up and put on a dry pair of panties.”
And the afternoon, what happened. Joanne continued: “That was worse, I can’t believe I had two accidents in one day. I was driving home, classic; I had to pee really badly, holding myself…I simply didn’t make it, I began to wet my panties (same skirt) as soon as I got out of the car. I dashed through the house to the nearest toilet, but I literally left a trail on my way. My husband saw me, and saw me wetting, and said, “Not again, Joanne!”. I guess it too bad he’s not like you, you would have loved it.”
I interrupted her: I would have come to you and pulled you to me, letting you soak us both, and kissed you and felt you all over, I told her. She smiled.
“Anyway”, she continued, “by the time I got to the toilet I had probably peed so much that I was half way done. I again took off my panties (this time beige silk string bikinis), washing them out, and wiped up the floor.”
I was in wonder. Joanne concluded: “I’m not sure why I’ve been able to go for months with only minor dribbles, and then two major and one almost major accident. Weird.”
I told her that for my sake I hoped the end of summer and fall would be as good as its been this week.
- October 1999
Joanne and I hadn’t seen each other for about three weeks, and at the end of that lunch I asked my usual question: “Did you have any accidents recently?” Unfortunately, we were on our way out and she was running late. “Yes, yes, yes! God, awful…yes, but I don’t have time to tell you now; I’ll tell you next time I see you.” I was left hanging…
Today we met for coffee and spent some time doing errands and talking. I reminded her about her ‘yes, yes, yes’ answer; and she said something to the effect, “I’ve been having so many accident I really don’t remember which is which.” I asked her major or minor ones. “Both, a few major ones, but all at home or near home. The usual, walking the dog, I do remember I really wet my pants a few weeks ago, maybe that was one of the ones I meant, I honestly don’t remember. I know I had to pee really badly on the way back, really early in the morning, and I just couldn’t make it on time…I began to do the usual, you know, spurt…by the time I got to the door I was probably wet to near my knees, and kept going as I dashed to the toilet. Everyone else was still sleeping, so I just put the wet pants and my panties in the hamper and changed.” I think that may have happened another two or three times; I mean, wetting my pants while walking the dog.”
“But the worse has been on the way to work; well, not really on the way, I’m desperate then, but getting out of the car and getting into the building has been awful. I mean, I almost as often as not get my panties wet.”
I asked, “How wet?”
“Really wet”, she replied. “I’ve taken to wearing dresses and skirts for fear of wetting my pants and having people see; at least with a skirt no one knows you panties are wet.”
I asked, “How many time a week, like daily? Is it just your panties, or do you pee down your legs?”
“Both, very wet panties and sometimes down my legs…I just can’t seem to make it. Last week I probably wet my panties three or four times. I really don’t remember its so common. I’m not yet keeping a log, although I know you’d like me to.”
I didn’t even both to ask her about what she was wearing each time; clearly her accidents have been so frequent in the last six weeks or so they all blur. I need to see her more than once a week to get detailed descriptions….but I love that Joanne is into a very wet and accident prone part of her life. More as I know.
- January 2000, Joanne’s Major Millennial Accident
As usual Joanne and I had coffee, and then did some shopping afterwards. We met at a coffee store, but not the one we were to have coffee at. She is somewhat late, but came running, wearing tight tan jeans, brown peter–pan type boots, and a nice quite tight sweater and jacket. She looked great. “Hi, I’ve really got to pee, real bad, I need their bathroom,” was her introduction, as she smiled, gave me a very quick hello almost without hug, and hurried off to the toilet, which was however occupied. Of course as I walked over to her, standing somewhat casually, but crossed legged, I imagined her desperation being more intense, and perhaps really bad, as she’d move into the corner to cross her legs more tightly, perhaps have to hold herself, and perhaps…ah wishes…even began to pee in her tan jeans. Reality snaps me back, and she says again, “God, I really have to pee. I dropped my son off at school, and then went to the store, and I really had to pee, but didn’t want to bother asking to use the bathroom, its such a pain there, so I just kept holding it, and I really have to go. I know you find this fun….” Just then, she still standing casually legs crossed, the woman in the toilet came out, and Joanne dashed in. Foiled again….
She came out a minute later, “I feel so much better.” We left to drive to a more relaxed caf’ some few minutes away. We had a lot to talk about, yes, even more pressing than desperation and accidents, so in the car and at the caf’ we talked for perhaps 30 minutes. After talking about what was pressing (if not urgent….), we began talking about our christmas and new year’s vacations. I told her about mine, and she about hers, and I mentioned that Sarah (whom I’ve written about some here) had a small accident in an art gallery/studio. She had had some coffee, unusual for her, and had to pee really urgently. She asked the woman in the gallery if she could use the toilet, and behind the counter had to stop, cross her legs, and I saw her hold herself for a few seconds, then disappear through a door. She came out a few minutes later. I asked how she felt, “Much better she answered, but I didn’t quite make it on time.” She had wet her panties and pants behind the counter, and then managed to get in control. I saw later that her grew pants were wet a few inches around the crotch, and teased her about it. I love it, and enjoyed her stained panties on her later that night. Joanne smiled, and I asked her if she had any accidents recently.
“God yes, yesterday, I wet my pants, I mean really wet them.”
“How much, you mean completely?”
“Yes, totally, I had to take them and my panties off. I was driving home and wet myself in the garage.”
“God, really? What happened? How wet did you pants get, to the knees?”
“No, more, to my ankles, my socks got wet, I totally wet myself, I couldn’t stop…actually, I gave up.”
“Wow, that hasn’t happened in a long time, has it?”
“Thank God, no. I hate it, you know that, but I like telling you because you like it so much. Here’s what happened.”
I was sitting looking at Joanne’s pretty blue eyes, blond hair falling on her forehead, turned on, knowing what her garage looks like, and hard as a rock. “So, what happened, tell all…”
“I had dropped my son off at school, and had my usual cup or two of coffee, but was returning home rather than going to work that day. I was going to work from home. It funny, since I got back from vacation, coffee makes me pee so much more intensely and urgently now. I guess its from not having had coffee for more than two weeks. Anyway, I was dying in the car, squeezing my legs together as much as possible, and when possible holding myself. As I got closer to home, you know, it takes about ten minutes from his school, I was almost out of control, and I was driving fast, too fast. I was afraid I was going to wet my pants in the car; I hate that. I also knew I wasn’t going to make it, I just had a feeling… Anyway, I got into the garage, and the outside door was closing behind me, turned off the car and got out, and I knew I was loosing it, I guess I probably started to wet my panties, but I was in such a state, I was really panicked trying to hold it, that I wasn’t really sure. I managed to walk to the door, the inside door to the house, and I just began wetting my pants. It was so fast and so hard, and so much, I didn’t even try to stop it, it was one of those times I just couldn’t. None of my usual that I’ve describe…”
“You mean, no spurts and dribbles, on and off?”
“God no. This was a total flood, whoosh….and fast, I had no control at all. That’s unusual.”
“What were you wearing?”
“Jeans, running shoes, a white shirt (it got wet where it was tucked in)….”
She looks, trying to remember, knowing that I’d ask her….
“…and, I’m pretty sure white cotton panties…I have so many, lace I think, not sure…So I began to wet my pants, in a total state, trying to open the door, which is silly since it wasn’t even locked, I was so out of it as I was hopelessly trying to not wet, even through in the very beginning I was trying to stop, I was turning the knob and the door was not opening, then I knocked on the door, yelling ‘Mom, Mom…’.
“Your mother was visiting?”
“Yes, she’s here for a bit…Within seconds I gave up and just stood there and wet my jeans.”
“Did you have your legs apart?”
“Funny, actually not, close together…and pee was falling all over the place, but my jeans got soaked…I finally stopped, maybe 10 or 15 seconds later, I had gone mostly in my pants, I had none left…I took off my jeans and began to take off my panties and opened door and called my mom. This time she heard, she came and saw me in my panties, all wet, holding my jeans. I said, “Mom, I wet my pants I had to go so bad.” She looked at me, smiled, and said, “Joanne, not again! You’ve never been able to hold it very well, have you?” I was taking off my panties and asked her to close the shades since I was going to walk through the house naked and take a shower. I first went to the washing machine with my wet jeans and panties, but my mom took them from me and washed them…they’re still in the washer, I forgot to take them out.”
“Joanne, that’s amazing…you just gave up and wet your pants. You are usually able to stop.”
“I knew I wasn’t going to be able to, really, it was useless. It was one of those times I knew what was going to happen. It was lucky that I was coming home, imagine what would happen if I had that type of an accident at work. What would I do?”
“I guess you’d have to drive home and change, and cancel meetings or whatever. I’ve always told you you should carry an extra pair of panties with you, but now a dry pair of pants, too.”
“I actually thought of that, keeping a change of clothes in my office, but the pants might not match what I was wearing that day.”
“What’s the alternative, if you had had a major accident at work, or on the way? You’d stay in soaked pants or a skirt all day, or not match?”
“I guess not matching is better, true. But God, had I wet my pants like that at work, someone would have seen me on the way to my office from the bathrooms, or getting out of my car perhaps. And if I had been at work during the day, someone would see me in different pants…I’m sure they’d know I had wet them, what else would explain it? This was really awful.”
“I know you don’t like these accidents…..”
“I hate them, you know that….what if you had wet your pants? How would you feel?”
“Actually, it would be ok, embarrassing I’m sure, but the feeling would be ok, for me. I know you hate it, but I love, adore hearing…but I want to be a witness sometime.”
“I know, but not likely, I hope. Anyway, that’s what happened…
I didn’t know what to say, but also didn’t know what to do, I was very turned on, and she knew it, smiled…and we managed to get onto another subject, but in the car driving back to where we had originally met I told her again how great I thought her accident was and how I wish she could find some sensual or erotic aspects of it…she laughed, but said she didn’t like it. “I know you’ve wet your pants a few times…you found it nice?”
“I’ve mostly projected my wetting fantasies onto women….not myself, but some guys, and some women, do like it, sure.”
“Yes, I know.
I dropped Joanne of, her detailed description of her major accident fresh in my mind, watching her get out of the car, her long tan jeans covered legs and tight ass walking to her car, imagining her just over 24 hours ago in another pair of jeans, soaked to the floor….helpless as she wet her pants and panties.
#35
I had coffee with Joanne today. In the last ten days Joanne told me she has wet her pants three times. The first two times occurred on the same day, both in her house, and almost happened a third time in a store. All in one day. The most recent time, just the other day, occurred at work, in her office, where she wet her jeans (it was a causal dress day at work). Here’s what she told me about all the incidents.
She was working on a weekend at home, busy as always, and simply put off going to the toilet…in each case too long. For her it was awful wetting herself two times at home, and she told me she literally repressed all the details (what she was wearing, exactly what happened, what she changed into, what her husband and mother said), except that each time she had to change her pants, panties, and once her shirt since it was tucked in and got wet also. Both times, again her mother visiting and her husband there, they knew about her accidents, joked about it, but the second time (only hours after the first) she felt really embarrassed. I wish she had remembered more, but she remembers almost nothing of what happened, except she began wetting each time, as usual a little and then in spurts, and ran to the toilet, not making it and having to change her clothes.
Later that afternoon she was at a store (some large store selling furniture and other items) with her husband. She told him she had to pee ‘really badly; I need to go home now.” She stressed the ‘now’ part. She assumed that they would go home since she has always been a little embarrassed to ask for toilets if they are not clearly public ones, and this place did not have public ones. That surprised me. Learn something new every day.
According to Joanne her husband said something to the effect of, “You’re not going to wet your pants three times in one day, come with me.” Very uncharacteristically, he took her by the arm to the sales service counter and said, “Can my wife use your bathroom? This is really a very urgent, almost emergency situation.” Joanne said she was really embarrassed, and the sales guy said ‘sure’, and pointed them to the rear of the store. She made it in plenty of time (too bad…oh well, sometimes pee doesn’t happen), while her husband stood outside of the door.
The other accident Joanne had was yesterday. She had been in her office a little later than usual, filing things, writing memos and the like. As typical, she put off visiting the toilet until on her way home once out of her office, but things took longer than she expected. “Just one more minute,” she thought. But as she was putting away some papers, standing, she felt the first spurt in her white cotton panties (as usual with lace in the front). She crossed her legs and bent forward, she said, quickly putting down the papers and heading out the door, through two other doors and toward the final door of the women’s room. On the way she dribbled and spurted, hoping that she would not run into anyone, which she didn’t. But once inside the women’s room she said there was one other woman waiting. She panicked thinking she’d never be able to hold on, and she said she was jumping around, crossing her legs, and continuing to dribble and spurt. “I felt warm between my legs, I know you love it, but I was really afraid of completely wetting my jeans like a few weeks ago in my garage.” Yet luck was with her since both stalls opened up within seconds, as she was about to hold herself. She ran in quickly, “I didn’t even bother, actually, I was so panicked I couldn’t, I mean I didn’t even lock the stall door. I just wanted to get my pants and panties down before I really wet myself.”
She did, but not before she had soaked her panties completely, and wet her jeans about 4 inches down the insides of her legs, also of course wetting her crotch. She pulled them up after peeing, now cold “and very uncomfortable”, she said. I asked if you could see that she wet her pants, and she smiled, “Not unless you were looking up from under me, thank God. I don’t think anyone knew.” Once home, still damp, she changed her pants and panties, although she said no one knew.
I said, “I manage to miss all the good places to be.” She smiled a warm, quite tender and also somewhat turned on smile, saying, “Well, perhaps its too bad you can’t just hang out in women’s rooms, I’m sure you’d find some good sightings. I’m sure there will be a time when I don’t make it when we’re together.”
I, across the table, smiled, turn on as hell, and asked her what type of panties and bra she was wearing today. She told me: again, white cotton panties, lace; and a lace, see through bra. I told her I’d imagine her wetting her pants and changing sometime later in the day.
We parted, but the image of her mini–accident at work and two wetting at home in one day and almost a third on the same day stick with me.
- Pantyhose (Tights), Panties (Knickers) and Mini–Accidents: Joanne’s Revelations
I had my usual coffee with Joanne. In spite of the fact that as we walked to the caf’ she told me, crossing and uncrossing her legs waiting for the light to turn green, shifting her weight and slightly jumping around, that, “I really have to pee, the traffic was terrible,” she had a dry week. I smiled, as did she, “No, I didn’t wet myself once.” Once in the caf’ she made a bee line to the toilet while I ordered coffee for the two of us. On her return I smiled and she said, “You don’t even have to ask, yes, sorry to disappoint, I made it, but only barely. I really had to pee.” Oh well, that’s the real world.
However a minor, but to me very interesting item. I love, as readers of what I’ve written know, women in panties, wet or dry. Joanne was wearing a black skirt, a few inches above the knee, black boots and pantyhose (tights for you Brits…). I asked her if she usually wore panties under her pantyhose. “Not usually, well, not if I’m going out, but almost always to work.”
“Why only to work?,” I asked. I really didn’t have a clue.
She smiled (this was shortly before we parted after coffee): “Well, I don’t like the lines of panties under tight skirts or dresses, most women don’t. So, I don’t wear panties under pantyhose except at work. But, I know you’ll love this, at work I always wear panties since I’m afraid if I don’t make it on time, you know, and pee in my pantyhose, I’ll get my legs much wetter, and even leave a puddle or a trail if I’m running. So I wear panties to, what should I say, to catch my frequent dribbles better.”
“You mean you wear them to be absorbent? Like a mini diaper?” I smiled.
“No! Not a diaper, that’s awful….but just to prevent my legs from getting wet…I hate the idea of wearing a diaper…”, but she smiled, “I guess it sort of has the same effect. Yet, if I wet a little my panties get wet, but it usually won’t run down my legs, or, God, worse, leave a wet trail as I’m usually running you know where.”
“Wow,” I responded, “Even I had never thought of that…panties to catch the pee. I love it, but I guess it works only if you just dribble and spurt.”
“Yet, true, but you know, that’s usually what I do daily. Anything else, like a few weeks ago, nothing would help, and anyway, those big ones don’t happen that much.”
I loved the idea that Joanne purposefully wears panties under pantyhose (just for its own sake), but far more in order to minimize signs of her mini accidents at work. Ah, the secrets of women (at least to us guys.) All these years, and I find out something new, well, not everyday, but at least sometimes.
I’d be curious about other women’s practices, at least those prone to frequent mini–accidents.
- An unusual accident
A few days ago I mentioned in a short post that Joanne had wet her panties while talking to her husband, but didn’t have the details. Here are the details, and it was a quite unique accident for Joanne, or indeed for anyone I know.
She gave me a very brief email description about two weeks ago. She wrote:
I will miss you next week. I had the same thing happen to me as the African woman in BESIEGED. Standing in the bedroom, talking to my husband… I do not know why since I was next to the bathroom…I wasn’t scared like the woman in the movie just talking. Weird, I had no warning at all. I didn’t even feel like I had to go, but I wet my panties totally, and legs.
When we met the other day I, of course, asked, and she elaborated.
It was the morning; Joanne had gotten up, having slept only in her panties. She had already used the toilet, and was drinking coffee. She and her husband had been talking, not about anything particularly important it seems. She was standing by the bathroom door in their bedroom. They talked, she, as she said, “Standing not more than three feet from the bathroom door. I didn’t’ feel like I had to pee, but, and this is really weird, all of a sudden I began to pee, I mean really pee, in my panties, through my panties, down my legs onto the floor.”
“Did you make a puddle on the floor like in the movie?”
“Maybe a small one, but my legs were soaked to my feet.”
I asked her what she was thinking; she said, “As I realized I was actually wetting my panties, I thought of you; how much you would like it. But I just, at first, was amazed. I’ve never wet myself without feeling like I really had to pee; but here I was just wetting panties, and not before hand feeling like I had to go. Strange. No warning at all.”
I asked her how it felt. “God, like I really had to go, but it was too late. I ran the few steps to the toilet, pulled down my panties and finished there. But I left a wet trail. I cleaned it up afterwards.”
I asked the proverbial question: “What type of panties did you have on?”
“You know my wardrobe on the whole. White cotton ones; lace front, I think some lace at the top.”
She continued: “Anyway, it was totally weird and was over fast. I took a shower.”
“What did your husband say? What was his reaction?”
He couldn’t believe it. He was amazed that I just was talking and then started wetting myself. He said something like, “What’s going on?”. He told me that there was nothing important we were talking about, certainly nothing worth wetting your panties over. I said to him what I told you: I didn’t realize I was about do; it just happened.
“Well, if I were he I would have wanted you in bed, or on the floor or somewhere. I wouldn’t have been able to keep my hands off you.”
“I guess he’s not you. It does nothing for him. I doubt its ever pass his mind as being sexual. That’s why I thought of you the moment I began to pee.”
I tried to visualize Joanne standing there in her panties, and wetting them without warning. Certainly unusual.
- An elaboration on her unusual accident, above
We had dinner together about 10 days ago, and she told me that for the first time she understood, or as she said, “I actually felt what you mean when you find a woman peeing or wetting erotic.” I was really surprised since in all these years she never said she experienced that. I asked in what way. She responded that it was difficult to put into words, but the sudden loss of control, the warmth of the sudden escape in her panties, running down her legs and not being able to stop….she said is was “not like having an orgasm, but perhaps not too dissimilar either.”
I asked how come she never experienced this before. “I’ve never just wet my panties when either it wasn’t in public or I didn’t have to worry about other clothes being wet; or people seeing me afterwards. It just happened in my bedroom, and I found myself turned on as it happened and as I ran to the toilet. Not a lot, but some. It was interesting.”
I suggested she might want to ‘play’ with that in private and see what happens and how she feels. So far, no news, except a far, far different set of two accidents. See below.
- April 24, 2000
I met Joanne for breakfast and a walk, except we never got to the walk, but talked a long time. Toward the end, as I was driving her somewhere, I asked, as we got into the car, about “anything interesting on the peeing and accident front.”
“Oh, God! I had an accident that was awful. Really horrendous, terrible, and very embarrassing…”
Not able to resist, of course, I asked what happened.
Joanne told me her mother was visiting again. They had taken the dog for a walk after breakfast on a trail which is used for jogging, walking and the like. It’s paved and runs through woods and housing developments; it usually has a lot of people on it at all hours. The weather was warm and Joanne had on light green leggings (I know the ones, they show off her legs and ass very well, and usually her pantie line too); and a tee shirt.
She said, “God, really…this was one of the worst, actually it was two.”
“Two? How do you mean?”
“Well, we dropped my son off at school, and drove to the trail. But when I got there, or almost there, I realized I really needed to pee badly; the usual post coffee got to pee all of a sudden problem. I turned around in the parking lot, no toilets, and told my mom I need to use a toilet first, but on the way home I was totally desperate, and kept leaking some…and ran into the house through the front door, holding myself. I could feel my panties getting damp, but I managed to get to the toilet without too much damage, but I needed to change.”
“You wet your leggings a lot?,” I asked.
“Well, no, but my panties were wet and I changed them, somehow I didn’t really get my pants wet. Anyway, we drove back to the trail, and once on it, but really no more than give minutes into the walk I really need to pee again. I told my mom and she couldn’t believe it, saying “but you just went to the bathroom.” I said, “I know, mom, but I really have to pee and badly.” She said ok let’s go home, but I decided I could hold it. That was really a big mistake. About five minutes afterwards I was totally desperate, and told her.”
I was amazed. Joanne said early morning coffee does that to her. She continued: “I realized I wasn’t going to be able to make it to the car, and, you know the trail, there is nowhere to pee, really nowhere. My mom, seeing me jumping around, said pee behind a tree or bush, but there were none at all private, not one. The only alternative was walking down the embankment to the stream, but it was muddy and hard to get down. I felt the first few drops at that point, and was really panicking. And people were running and walking. Finally, almost not being able to think…and understand, all this too less than a minute from the moment I was trying to find a tree to pee behind, I ran or dashed to a tree, and began to wet my pants, really a lot. I just couldn’t stop. I got to the tree, it was pretty big, and while I was peeing pulled my leggings and panties down, and just squatted.”
“God…what happened?”
“I felt relieved, but looked up and realized I was in clear view of people’s backyard, and had no idea if anyone was there. I doubt it, but also realized that people could see me from one side of the trail, I was quite close to it. At that point it was too late, and I finished peeing, but realized that I was really wet. As I pulled up my panties they were soaked, but my leggings were wet to my knees or below, and up my butt, too. God, I was embarrassed. I walked to the trail, and my mom said, “Joanne, you wet your pants, again. God, what will we do with you.” I said, “Mom, I just couldn’t help it, what could I do?” She didn’t reply. We began to walk back the ten minutes to the car, but it was obvious from the way I looked I had an accident, a big one.”
“Joanne, I know you didn’t like it….”, I began.
“Like it? I hated it…it was awful, its not like at home….everyone could see me.”
“I know that”, I continued, “but I love it…did lots of people see you?”
“I guess so, there were a lot of people on the trail, I tried not to look at them, but my leggings were soaking and obviously wet. It wasn’t like I looked like I sat in water or something. My inner thighs were soaked. Awful.”
As always, I felt badly for her, but enormously turned on too. She smiled and laughed at me.
- June, 2000 Joanne: One month, One accident
I saw Joanne today after not having seen her for a month, or close to it. She looked great in a sleeveless top (light blue) and skin tight grey leggings, of the same style I describe in the last post when she wet them while walking with her mom. You could see the outlines of her panties through the tight material. To cut to the chase: I asked her if she wet her pants since I had seen her. “God yes, really badly…a week ago, maybe 10 days I’m not sure.”
I asked what happened. She had been walking her dog after her morning coffee. “I thought you gave that up when you were having a lot of wetting accidents?”, I asked.
“Well, you know I can’t function without the coffee and my husband had left early and the dog had to be walked.”
“Well, what happened?”
“God, the closer I got to my house and more and more I had to pee, I mean really bad. I felt the first little spurt, and knew I was in trouble. I was maybe a block from my door. I stopped, tried to get in control, but that wasn’t working. All I could think about was the toilet…and that’s deadly, as you know. Then, all of a sudden as I began to walk again, I really began to wet my pants….”
“What were you wearing, I love to visualize everything?”
Joanne smiled. “A t–shirt, running shoes and socks, and running shorts, I think the light blue ones. Anyway, I just couldn’t control it, and began to run thinking that it would be better to at least try to make it rather than constantly crossing and uncrossing my legs…But I didn’t. I began to completely wet my shorts while running. In fact, I left the dog who walked home, while I made a dash for it. But by the time I was at the door and fumbling for my keys I had totally wet my shorts and panties, my legs and even the socks.”
“God, I would love to have seen that…”, I added, saying the obvious.
We were walking as she told the story…I was very turned on…imagining her wetting herself right then and there…but, alas, it was not to be. But I did love the story.
Brief update:
In the past three weeks she been exceptionally busy, running from one place to another, juggling the necessities of daily life. Unlike the prior months, this has led to her to feel very rushed, and when rushed she postpones toilet visits, for reasons I’ve never fully understood since she often end up wetting herself. We’ve talked about this a lot, and she usually laughs about it. (I know a number of women who do this and have ended up wetting accidentally, and find it a wonderful mystery as to why women who otherwise are accident prone often put off finding a place to pee.)
Accident #1: About three weeks ago Joanne was running from one meeting to the next, and then that was followed by a meeting with her boss. She was wearing tight white pants (and white cotton panties, with lace; her usual). She ran (literally) to the bathroom after the second meeting, dying to pee. She said all three stalls were taken. She was standing there, legs cross holding herself, feeling about to really flood her panties and pants, when a woman left the stall. She ran in, but not in time to totally hold it. She said, “I began wetting my pants as soon as I walked in. I soaked my panties, and probably got my pants wet…maybe this much.” She indicated with her hands maybe four inches. “I looked at my pants in the mirror, and you couldn’t see anything. I guess if you looked up you’d have see me quite wet. God, white pants, and between the legs I was all yellow. But my boss [a woman] just commented on how nice my clothes were. God, if she had only known.”
Accident #2: A few days later she went to visit a friend in the hospital. As she was leaving she knew she had to pee, but didn’t like these particular hospital toilets. She thought she could hold it for the 20 minute drive home. But by the time she got to the car she knew she really had to pee. She thought of going back in, but was in a hurry and decided to risk it. I asked her, “Why, since you’ve often wet your pants in situations like that?” “I never learn.” She told me that half way home she was driving (a shift car…) holding her crotch as best she could and trying to press her legs together, clearly not easy. About five minutes before her house she began to wet in small spurts, but by the time she got to her driveway, she was doing larger and larger spurts. She said her butt was pretty wet, as was the car seat. “When I got out I couldn’t hold it very well…I just began to wet my pants. I don’t remember what I was wearing exactly, jeans probably, but I know by the time I got to the bathroom I had to put my panties and pants in the wash.” I asked, “How much did you wet your pants, how far down?” “Oh, past my knees, I was really wet…I just couldn’t hold it…at all.”
Accident #3: She was leaving another meeting, which went on for hours, and was supposed to meet a colleague afterwards at her office. He was waiting for her, and she told him, “I really need the toilet immediately, I’ll be right back.” He told her, ‘take your time.’ But, she said, “I had to wait for a stall…god, I began to wet my panties, thank god I had on a dress…my legs were wet almost to my shoes by the time I got in. My panties were soaking…yes, white cotton, the usual, nice ones, but very wet.” She met with her colleague for over an hour with soaking panties on. He hadn’t a clue, she said.
Accident #4: A small(er) one on the way home after picking up her son. She began to wet her tan slacks as soon as she got out of the car. She said she wet them half way or more to her knees, and had to change.
So, Joanne seems to be making up for lost time. See what the next few weeks bring. I was very turned on after the walk, ‘hardly’ surprising.
Joanne’s Two Major Accidents, of a New Kind
I went for a long walk with Joanne yesterday. She had on very tight gray pants and a great, also tight, red pullover which showed her breasts wonderfully. Too bad it was getting cool and she also had a jacket, which she put on shortly after we began to walk. Until then I noticed the faint outline of her panties through her pants. We walked and talked for about half an hour before she began to describe what happened, but as we began to talk she was telling me of a really, really boring and tedious meeting she was at the day before, saying that when it was scheduled to be over she decided to leave. I said, “You had to pee?”
“No,” she replied, “actually not at all, it was just an awful meeting and I wanted to go home. But I will tell you about two really big accidents later.”
I immediately felt myself getting excited at the prospect, and was only disappointed in that I didn’t see Joanne wet her pants, but only got some very, very detailed descriptions and reflections on her accidents. Before she described the accident she mentioned that she had seen Holy Cow (is that the right title?), and there was a peeing scene, so I should be sure to see the movie.. Ah, nothing like a film referral to put one in the mood.
The week of October 23
Joanne said that both these accidents were very new to her. “New?,” I asked, “How new given the endless accidents you’ve had since you were seven?”
“No, really, this one and the other were really weird, really strange in a number of ways.”
“Well, what happened?”
“Ok, I was between my usual endless meetings and presentations. I had to pee, but absolutely nothing urgent at all. I was wearing a loose skirt, a little above my knees, quite modest really, shoes. It was warm on Tuesday, so no hose or anything. I walked into the women’s room nearby, and really, as I walked down the hall I was totally far from desperate, I just figured I should pee before I had to sit through a meeting. Preventive action and all. Anyway, literally as I walked into the women’s room, just in the door, and not being at all aware of an urgency, I felt this flood in my panties, running down my legs…God, I didn’t know at first what was going on. It was really weird, no warning, and all this warm pee flooding my legs and shoes, and even leaving a small puddle on the floor and then a trail as I walked. Well, at that point I ran right into the first stall, pulling up my skirt and my soaking panties down…I managed to slow the flow by this point, and finished peeing in the toilet.”
“What was so strange was no warning, no feeling like I had to go, no nothing….just a sudden warm flood. I was soaked. Thank god I had a skirt on. Anyway, I had to take off my shoes and with a damp towel wash them, and washed my legs, and damp dried my panties as best I could, but didn’t want to be without panties, so I kept them on. I then got the pee off the floor…I was worried about someone walking in, but they didn’t. I was lucky.”
“Wow, I can’t believe that,” I almost stammered, feeling my erection push against my pants as we walked. “No warning and you just flooded, not dribbled and spurted?”
“Yes, that’s what was so totally new…Anyway, the same sort of thing happened two days later, on Thursday, except at home. I was driving home, and had to pee, but again absolutely nothing urgent, I wasn’t holding myself or squirming or anything. I got out of the car, and actually got my bag, and was walking toward the door, you know from inside the garage. And then, again, no warning. I felt myself begin to wet my pants. I was wearing pants this time. I dropped my bag, left the door open, and as I walked, almost ran…but not too fast I didn’t want to trip or anything…unbuttoning and then unzipping my pants….god, I was totally soaking them, completely, again I felt pee just pouring from me, my panties didn’t quite get down with my pants, I was in such a hurry, and by the time I got to the door of the bathroom I had my pants almost around my knees (of course I realized I had a hard time walking that way…hey, I was panicked), and was peeing right through my panties, all over my legs and onto my pants. You would have loved it…I was totally out of control…this time I couldn’t even slow myself down….and completely wetting my panties, which were on, and my legs, pants, socks and shoes…again. It was absurd. Obviously I had to put my pants and panties in the washer. Even my socks and had to rinse my shoes. My husband asked why I walked in the bedroom naked from the waist down. I had to tell him what happened…it was funny, I only tell him if he would otherwise know, like then. I didn’t tell him about wetting myself at work. I tell you everything…He said, ‘Joanne, again, you wet your pants, what will we do with you?” Apparently the subject was dropped as she got a dry pair of panties and pants.
I was silent for a few seconds, amazed since Joanne had never described this type of accident. She had no idea why she had these two, but knew I would love the description. I asked what color panties she had on both times and what color pants. White pants and both times her usually lovely white cotton panties (European) with lace in the front, and one had some lace on the legs. I felt myself getting harder….
I asked her how she felt each time since there was no warning, no urgency…just a flood as she got near each toilet.
“Well, you’ll be interested. To my surprise the accident at work, in the women’s room, actually felt not bad, maybe even good. I was so taken by surprise since I didn’t feel the usual signs, that I realized there was all this warmth flooding down me. Since it didn’t get my skirt at all wet, it was only later I was concerned about someone seeing me. When my panties were wet at first, that was OK, it felt nice, they were warm. By the way, you would have liked it a lot, they were quite see through. I was glad they weren’t wet on my butt since they might have gotten my skirt wet, but they didn’t get wet there at all. I wasn’t real happy about wearing them for the next hours all wet, but it wasn’t as bad as I thought, I’m not sure why.”
“When I wet my pants at home it wasn’t so great; I know that’s weird since only my husband was home, but I don’t like wetting my pants; its really messy, and it didn’t feel as good at all. So it was weird, the one in the women’s room was actually quite sensual since I only wet my panties (and legs and shoes I guess!!), but it felt good.”
“Joanne, someday I really want to see you wet your panties, if not your pants….” My wish trailed off into her knowing smile, but I knew that unless it was an accident, she wouldn’t wet her panties or pants on purpose for me.
We talked a little more about these two accidents which perplexed her, and she promised to tell me about anymore than might happen.
The stuff of dreams, masturbatory fantasy, and one can only hope, Joanne’s continued reality for next week. We’ll see.
By: Aquavite