Kazziebabe's Story

I am Kazziebabe, and these are a true stories about me wetting my knickers.
When I was 32, a good few years ago now, I was working evenings in a pub, part–time. I was separated and in the process of getting divorced when I met a really nice man. We started seeing each other and after a couple of tease–filled months we had progressed to heavy petting and sex.
On the nights I worked in the pub, I would go round to his bedsit to see him, just for half an hour or so, as we both had day jobs with early starts. We used to mostly just play manually on these occasions, saving the sex for when we had more time together.
Oooh, he was soooo good with his hands, and was very naughty, teasing me in lovely ways until I was really hot and aroused, then he’d make me come by slowly stimulating my clit, slowing down even more every so often to make me wait longer, which I really love! That really makes an orgasm hit with a jolt, when you are getting desperate to come and are just a little frustrated by being held on the edge of climax for a while before it finally goes over.
There was just one problem– as soon as he started stroking my crotch through the material of my knickers, it was so tickly that it made me want to wee quite urgently and it happened every time (still does even now!) Now sometimes this really adds to the excitement; it intensifies the throbbing of the clitoris and the resultant orgasms are brill. Back then in his bedsit, as soon as I came, I’d have to get dressed quickly and run to the loo while clutching myself firmly between my legs, much to my man’s amusement. He said that one day he would take me by surprise when I was desperate for a pee, and would hold me down while tickling me without mercy till I laughed so much that I would widdle in my panties! Oooh!
One particular night, I was more desperate than normal after my orgasm; I must have had more diet coke than usual at work. I threw my clothes on, kissed him goodnight and ran down to the loo, only to find his elderly, but feisty landlady waiting for me. She didn’t like me much because I was a barmaid. She also knew I was always bursting for a pee when I came downstairs. She took great pleasure in telling me that I couldn’t use her ‘loo,’ and that I’d just have to hold it till I got home. I know she was enjoying seeing me squirm around with my legs crossed; she had one of those nasty cruel smiles on her face as she pushed me out of the front door. She was wriggling a bit herself, come to think of it; I bet she was turned on by the thought of me wetting my knickers.
I hobbled to my car, one hand firmly clutching my fanny– God, I needed a wee so badly, but there was nowhere to go in the brightly lit built–up area, so I got into my car and started to drive home. Home wasn’t too far away, but I was really bursting at that point. I managed to drive carefully and change gear, but I still had one hand pressed against the gusset of my pants to try to keep from letting out too many dribbles. A little trickle escaped, though I felt a little wet patch in my crotch and I was also wriggling a lot by then and pushing my bottom hard into the seat for extra support. Geez, my bladder was throbbing so hard!!! Then, of all things, it started to rain. Harder and harder it rained, until it was sheeting down in torrents. This didn’t help me– one look at the rivulets of rain running down the windscreen reminded me painfully that this was exactly what my straining bladder wanted to do.
It gave a sudden spasm and I peed a large squirt into my drawers before I could stop myself! Swearing under my breath, I pressed even harder against my fanny, and drove the last half mile. My knees were shaking with the effort of keeping them closed and my stomach was hurting. I turned into my road, and had to park at the top as the street was full of cars. My house was 50 yards away but it seemed like a mile! I was glad it was late so that no–one was around to see me as I was taking baby steps, knees pressed together, both hands pressed hard into my crotch.
The rain beat down and the sound of water running along the gutter and pouring into the drains was agonizing– it made me let another couple of spurts go involuntarily and a large trickle ran down each thigh. I had to stand for a second or too with my legs tightly crossed, just yards from my house, bouncing and gyrating furiously until I regained what little control I had left. My knickers had a huge damp patch by now and, of course, my thighs and skirt were wet too. At my door, I struggled to find my key in the dark while doing the absolute mother of all frantic pee–dances, shifting desperately from foot to foot, knees rigidly pressed together, trying frantically not to completely piddle my knickers.
The heavy, cold rain had soaked my hair and my clothing; there was now a chill in the air too. I shivered, still wriggling furiously; my skirt was scrunched up to my pelvis in front and my white Sloggi knickers were on show. I still had one hand pressed firmly against my wet gusset, rubbing my fingers urgently back and forth on the material and frantically squeezing my fanny to keep from peeing. The need to wee was overpowering, I was bent double, and I couldn’t stop moving and wiggling. Then, the inevitable happened. Cold, rain–wet and shivering, I suddenly sneezed hard, several times in quick succession. With every sneeze, of course, my tortured stomach muscles clenched, as they do, and warm squirts of pee ran down my legs. After the third sneeze I could no longer hold it, and I just peed through my panties till I was empty. The relief was wonderful, the rain washed away the evidence almost immediately and at last I managed to open my front door.
Strangely, although I felt a little embarrassed of myself, I also felt rather naughty and somewhat aroused by the experience! After a warm, comforting shower, I went to bed and couldn’t resist giving myself another orgasm. Bliss!!
***
When I was 18 I had a motor scooter, a Honda. It was a proper scooter with clutch and gears, not one of those that you first have to pedal furiously before getting going. I was very proud of it and used to travel to work on it, some four miles away.
One particular day there was going to be an evening event at the office, and all us typists had been asked to stay through tea time to help serve drinks and canap’s to our visiting dignitaries before the presentations and speeches.
We were very busy, and so didn’t get a break over the whole four hours. At 10pm we were allowed to leave for home. It was a warm September night and in those days there was not so much fuss made about protective clothing so, aside from my helmet, I was just wearing my normal work clothes, pleated skirt and blouse. I started my scooter, got on and began the journey home. As I got out onto the main road and picked up speed I suddenly realised I was desperate for a pee. I hadn’t had time to go all evening but in my rush to leave for home, I had ignored the messages from my bladder which was now very full. The reason I was noticing the need now was that the revs from the engine at 40 mph were sending a vibration right through the seat and into my bladder! You have to straddle a proper scooter as the seat was fitted over the engine and petrol tank. The feeling of the vibration against my crotch was incredible! It throbbed steadily, increasing in revs whenever I went faster. At 20 mph I could just feel it; at 30 mph it was very arousing; but at 40mph it was so tickly it made me wriggle as the need to wee intensified. It felt like the seat was alive and deliberately trying to arouse me with the world’s biggest vibrator and I was at its mercy! Oooh!
By the time I got home 10 minutes later I was hot and swollen with arousal and I could feel the slippery juices working and my inner labia were so sensitized I could hardly walk. I got off my bike, and it was then that I realised that in the vibration and the excitement it caused, I had also done a fair amount of wee in my knickers too. Of course, the moment I got off, the pressure against my crotch was released and I immediately started to pee again. I lifted my damp skirt quickly; squatted down and just peed through my panties in the front garden– I just couldn’t stop it. Good job it was getting dark!
***
Remember, I told you about my saucy man and his threat to make me widdle in my panties by tickling me? He made good on his threat a couple of months later, and of course he waited until I had forgotten about it!
It was a lovely summer evening and we had decided to go for a drive. We stopped off at a lovely little village pub and had a couple of cokes each in the pub garden – it really was lovely. The pub had a little miniature railway line running round the garden and the landlord used to start up the little engine and take the children of customers around the garden for a ride round on the sit–and–ride carriages. They loved it and it was fun to watch. After we left, we took the scenic route round the villages on the outskirts of town – it really was some pretty countryside, especially on a warm evening. We had been out a good couple of hours and the cokes were beginning to have a bit of an effect, although not overly so. I was well able to wait until we got back home. Or so I thought.
‘Mr sneaky’ stopped the car at a small but lovely wooded area; the trees were not densely packed and the sunlight still streamed through them. The ground was soft and covered with grass and moss, so it was pleasant to walk on; we both took our shoes off and left them in the car. We decided to have just a little wander round on the soft, mossy grass for a while as it was so quiet, peaceful and deserted. Obviously this was his wicked plan all along. We walked through to the middle of the woody area, and right in the centre was a large oak tree – it must have been the oldest one in the wood. It was big and shady, and the trunk was far too thick to completely get your arms around it. I did try, of course, and that’s when he pounced! He came up behind me and pinned me to the tree with his body!
“Aha!” he breathed into my ear, “now I’ve got you!” I squealed, suddenly realising what he was planning.
“Oh, no! Don’t!” I pleaded, halfway between surprise and giggles, “I’ve nothing to change into! You wouldn’t!”
“I would, and I don’t care,” he said, with a wicked chuckle, “I’m going to tickle you and tickle you without mercy until you can’t stop laughing. I really am going to make you pee in your panties!”
It was really turning me on at this point, my fanny was tingling with excitement and my juices were flowing. Of course, my bladder was also starting to complain too, which was his whole plan with the stop–off at the pub for cokes. He wanted to make sure that I would be busting for a pee by this time AND he’d planned where the tickle attack would happen. Crafty Bugger! Keeping me pinned with his body and one hand, he then reached around my front, worked his hand up under my skirt and gently stroked the crotch of my white Sloggi knickers, drawing gentle little circles on the material with one finger. (God! Just writing this is making me need a wee!)
Of course, that light, circling touch on my tight gusset did it – I immediately became even more frantic and desperate to pee. He knew very well the effect this would have on me, as always, but this time I had no loo to run to! I could also feel the effect it was having on him too, as his erection was pressing into my buttocks. That just contributed to the excitement and the pressure on my pelvic floor muscles. Oh, I just couldn’t keep still! The pressure was agonising! My bladder gave a spasm and I dribbled a little drop out before I managed to regain control. That just made him chuckle even more when he felt the wet patch appear in my knickers. He slightly increased the pressure of his fingers on my dampening crotch and kept teasing me verbally, whispering into my ear. Honestly, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing!
“Oh dear, I can feel a wet patch in your knickers. Are you bursting yet’ Shall I start tickling’ You’ll have to let go in a minute… I’ll make you laugh till you wet your pants! I won’t stop till I make you pee, here it comes, waterfalls, raindrops, dripping taps, psssssssssss…”
On and on he went like this, never stopping the whispering and the stroking while pinning me against the tree. I was almost beside myself with desperation and arousal. It was the combination of pleasure, pain, sexual tingling, embarrassment, worry that someone might see, feelings of naughtiness PLUS my bladder pressure, not to mention the fact that I was being restrained as well!!! I’d never been so aroused before, I can tell you!!!
I tried to cross my legs for a little relief, but he hooked one foot around and stopped me. He gently but firmly forced my legs apart just a little, so I had no way of helping my bladder control itself. I squealed again.
“Stop! I really will pee my panties in a minute, I can’t help it when you touch me like that, you know I can’t!”
I was putting up a bit of a pretend fight really, because by this time I didn’t really want him to stop – I wanted him to carry on and make me piss down my legs. The idea of being made to do that by someone else was such a turn–on!
“That’s the whole point!” he said “I did tell you a while ago that I’d make you laugh till you widdled in your drawers!” Then he started tickling. Oh God! He tickled under my arms, round my rib cage, down my sides, not just stroking but really tickling! He changed the places he was tickling so fast I could not keep up. I was trying to protect myself, but he was still pinning me against the tree and I couldn’t move or do much to help. I began to giggle and squeal, but it just made him worse! I couldn’t even wriggle or do a pee–dance to help the pressure!
Of course, the inevitable happened quite quickly – I did start to pee in my pants because I was laughing, squealing and wriggling so much to try to stop the tickling (I am very ticklish!) that I couldn’t control my full bladder as well.
It came out in short spurts at first, soaking the crotch of my knickers, running down my legs and over his hand. His erection was so hard and stiff, he was obviously very turned on by making his woman laugh till she weed in her knickers – so was I really. Then he stopped tickling and started whispering in my ear again, telling me in great detail all of the very naughty and sexy things he was going to do to me when we got back home. I was so aroused at this point I couldn’t think straight or control my wee anyway, didn’t want to really. I was really loving the sensations of being turned on, touched through wet material and the feel of hot pee running down my legs, coupled with the excitement of being out in the open where anyone might appear, as well as being held and made to piddle my panties at someone else’s saucy whim. Eventually I emptied my bladder completely, and he released his hold on me. When I could think clearly again, I took off my soaking wet pants. He produced a plastic bag for them and a hand–towel from the car – evidence of forward planning again, the little git – and I dried myself off. Knickerless, I sat on the towel in the car on the way home, and the subsequent sexual activities were incredible! Oooooh!!! We’ve been together for over 20 years now and he still arranges an occasional private naughty surprise for me. I hope he never decides to choose the middle of our local Tesco’s for a tickle attack!
By: KazzieBabe