Mum's Accident

I have always been interested in wet pants. It started when I was quite young, and I have never lost interest, even after 40 odd years!
I have wet myself more often than I can remember over the years. Sometimes fully peeing my knickers and making a puddle on the ground, but mostly just a bit wet, enough to show on tight jeans if you were looking for it!
When I’m feeling naughty though, I like to wait until the last possible minute to go to the loo. Most times I don’t wet much, but I’m often squirming and wriggling about trying not to pee myself, and doing the pee dance. I like the feeling of intense anticipation bordering on panic as I get towards not being able to wait much longer. Sometimes, particularly if I’m outside and wearing a dress or skirt I indulge myself, and just wet my knickers. Of course it is far easier for a girl to hide what she has done if she wears a dress or skirt. I realised this as I got into my late teens and couldn’t so easily get away with ‘accidentally’ wetting.
Often the only evidence would be close inspection of the laundry. My mother would on occasion catch me out, and be quite gleeful if she discovered I had wet my knickers, which I found both embarrassing and strangely exciting too. She didn’t seem to mind too much, and only scolded me mildly. She never told anyone else in the family, or so I thought then. If she had said anything to my sister I didn’t think she would have been able to keep quiet!
My sister Carol was nearly two years older than me, and at that time we didn’t always get on. Carol was busy with boys and she would pointedly tell me, with her nose in the air, that she was no longer a teenager. As we got older we talked more, and it turned out that mum used to have the same laundry problems with Carol! There is a good story or two there!
My mother also had the odd ‘accident’. This fascinated my sister and me, particularly if it happened when it seemed obvious to us that she could have made it to the loo. One particular occasion that I remember was a cold winter morning; mum had been in the garden hanging out the washing. She rushed in and said ‘oh that’s so cold outside it made me wet my knickers!’ She was wearing light blue slacks, which were fashionable at that time, and you could clearly see she had wet them! Perhaps it is hereditary? It’s difficult to ask someone if they enjoy wetting, but this had happened before. I was becoming more and more intrigued.
One of the first times I can remember my mum wetting herself was when we were on holiday. We always went to the Suffolk coast; at that time there were no amenities at the beach, toilets and such. So if you needed a wee you went in the dunes or, more often in the sea. I have been back recently, and not much has changed, I even left a little puddle in the dunes!
This was just the accepted thing to do. So when you went in the sea it was a good excuse to pee in your knickers, which as we all know feels nice, even if they are already wet. I still do it in the sea to this day when I get the chance, amongst other places!
Anyway this particular time it was a warm July day, the sea was a little bit choppy. After we had been on the beach for an hour or so both Carol and I needed to go in the sea. We all decided to go for a ‘dip’. I have always loved the sea so didn’t need much encouragement. Mum on the other hand was not happy in the sea; she couldn’t swim, and was a bit nervous about it. She probably would have let Dad and the two of us go on our own but she needed a wee, so she followed.
As I said the sea was choppy, Mum stood at the shoreline and looked uncomfortable. She was nervous about getting in, but also needed to pee. We weren’t aware how desperate she was at that time. I suppose thinking about peeing and having her toes in the water made it more urgent. She crossed her legs and held herself. Fortunately there weren’t many people about to witness this; it was quite a deserted beach. We all tried to encourage her to get in but she got more and more agitated, and started doing a pee dance. Now she was holding herself and dancing round in small circles. We all started to laugh and shout for her to just run in, I remember her saying “Don’t make me laugh, I’ll wet myself!”
Mum stopped dancing. She had her hand jammed between her legs, her knees bent and pressed together, and a sort of almost quizzical look on her face. She had started to pee! She managed to get her bladder under control fairly quickly; she opened her legs a bit and had a little glance at her bikini bottoms. There was a small but obvious wet patch between her legs. This seemed to make up her mind. Having peed enough to relieve the immediate danger, and probably, to cover the fact that she had wet herself a bit. She dashed into the sea and as she ran through the surf mum lost her footing.
I remember watching her trying to get up and each time she did the sea knocked her over again. Dad went to help, but as he tried to pick her up the sea knocked him over on top of her. After a few seconds, though later she swore it was longer, she got to her feet spluttering. Panicking about the sea, she scrambled onto the shoreline. This turned out to be too much for her overfull bladder. She stood there with her knees pressed together, pee cascading down her legs, splashing into a pool at her feet. The shock made her let it all go; there was a huge wet patch of sand. She was looking down at the puddle as the flow diminished. When she had finished she glanced up at dad with a bit of a smirk, and spread sand over the puddle with her feet. All evidence of her little accident was gone; her bikini was already wet from the sea so it didn’t show a wet patch where the pee had flowed though it.
She blamed Dad for letting her fall, and making her wet her knickers. He just laughed; maybe there was more to it. My mum had wet herself and no one seemed to mind too much! This was a revelation to me. I began to wonder if everyone wet himself or herself occasionally and I just never noticed. I made a note to keep watch and to ask mum more about it when I got the opportunity.
It still felt naughty to wait too long and wet my knickers, even if it is only a bit. It still does, and writing about it, is fun too.
By: Mag