Cider Legs

(Fiction with a basis in actual events)
Note: This story contains Female Desperation & Wetting, and Masturbation. I first discovered the pleasurable aspects of wetting my knickers while at university. It all began when I became friendly with a group of girls in the folk music club and began to frequent the various pubs in the area. For some reason cider was our preferred drink, being cheap and strong – despite its well known diuretic properties.When I first joined the group I was amused by the frequent references to ending up with “cider legs” if one of us drank too much. I assumed this to mean drunk, but was to find out otherwise, though our frequent visits to the ladies loo and the fact that I knew that several girls kept spare knickers and tights in their handbags should have given the game away!Anyway, we all went to a club in town one Friday night and I must have drunk three or four pints of cider. At one point I and my friend Melanie were running to the toilet every 20 minutes. At the end of the evening she was giggling about it, hoping that we would not have to wait too long for our bus home. We both went to the loo before we left but, as it happened, missed our bus and had to wait fifteen minutes for the next one. By the time we got on we both badly needed to wee again.The journey was short, less than 20 minutes but the cider was making us desperate. We both had to cross our legs tight and could barely sit still. We must have looked a sight. Mel said she had not been so desperate for a long time, while I admitted that I was going to have a wet seat if I had to wait much longer. We both giggled at that and I felt a spurt of wee dampen my pants, only luck and superhuman effort prevented a major accident. I hadn’t wet myself since a I was child and didn’t really want to do it now, in public and at the age of 19.Mel’s stop was first and as she got off she smiled, saying she didn’t think she would make it home this time. The pain in my bladder and my damp knickers were giving me the same message. My stop arrived and I cautiously stood up and made my way to the exit. I held on that far but as I stepped onto the pavement squirted a hot jet of wee into my knickers. A warm wetness spread over my crotch and trickled down my leg. A couple of steps, another spurt and I knew I was going to have a major accident in my pants. I stepped into the darkness of the bus shelter just as the dam burst. The pain in my bladder disappeared and for a moment I felt no need to pee, then my insides just melted. A torrent of wee poured from me, flooding down my legs, tickling my bum, soaking my knickers and tights, running into my shoes and spreading in a huge puddle across the floor. I seemed to wee for ages but eventually the flood died away and I just stood there, breathless and relieved, but very, very wet!It was only a couple of minutes to my flat and I prayed no–one I knew would see me before I got inside. As soon as I was through the door I rushed to my full length mirror to inspect the damage. My black skirt, though wet at the back hid my wet bum and there was surprisingly little visible evidence on my dark tights. In fact it was difficult to tell without looking closely that I had just wet myself like a naughty child. The warm wetness of my satin knickers on my skin and my tights clinging damply to my thighs told another story.These feelings intrigued me. It had actually been a rather pleasant experience as I stood there weeing in my pants – a wonderful feeling of release and relief coupled with a very sensuous feeling as the hot wee washed over my clit before soaking through my knickers and running in hot rivulets down my legs. I dropped my skirt to the floor and inspected my underwear more closely. A wet arc extended some way up the front of my pants from the gusset while at the back the wet area curved across the seat almost to the waistband. I felt my wet bottom all over, liking the wetness against my hand, savouring something that felt exquisitely naughty. I, a grown women, had uncontrollably wet my knickers like a little girl, and enjoyed it.My hand moved into my crotch, squeezing the wet material against by clitoris. I rubbed gently and almost without warning had a shattering orgasm that left me with shaking legs. I had discovered a new thrill.By now my bladder was filling again but I was in no hurry to get to the loo this time. I simply hung on till I again began to wet myself. As I started to lose control I threw some towels on the bathroom floor and just let go. With the hot wee running over my hand I massaged myself to another wonderful orgasm. Exhausted I threw a couple more towels on the bed and laid down to sleep, still wearing my soaking knickers and tights. I woke up to find myself almost dry though was rather surprised that I hadn’t wet the bed! I got up and again wet my knickers in the bathroom before showering and dressing to go out, having thrown the saturated pants and towels into the washing machine before I left.I met Mel at the mall cafe and the first thing she asked was whether I had made it home or ended up with “cider legs”, admitting that she acquired cider legs while trying to find her door key in the bottom of her handbag. I feigned lack of understanding and asked her what she meant by cider legs, enjoying the knowledge that she too had wet herself the previous night. Did she have the same feelings that I did? Cider drinking was going to be fun!
By: Poseidon