My Friend Sue

I should really blame my friend Sue for my crazy turn–on. If it was not for her I would still keep my knickers dry and would never have even considered wearing a nappy and incontinence pants, let alone wetting them in public. Sue and I met up at college and in our second year decided to share a tiny flat together, kitchen, bathroom, small sitting room and a bedroom with two single beds. I noticed that Sue always kept an old trunk in the bedroom securely locked but never bothered to ask her what was in it. One night we stayed in and drank rather too much wine. We began discussing holiday journeys and the horrors of coach travel. We both decided that the worst thing about coaches, apart from being cramped was the long periods between stops – and the lack of toilets. I related the several times that I had been desperate by the time the coach had reached a stop and had been terrified that I would wet myself as I sat there. Blushing, I told her of the two occasions when, having reached a stop, I hadn’t managed to hold on. The first time I had reached my home stop and rushed to the nearby toilets only to find them locked. I had a walk of about 20 minutes to reach home but halfway there began to wet my knickers. Fortunately it was dark and I struggled on, leaking little spurts, trickles running down my tights. I felt my pants getting wetter and wetter and after a few minutes thought to hell with it, and just stood with my legs apart and wet myself totally. It was such a relief that I was not really embarrassed by it. Nobody saw me and I was able to quickly get home, shower and change. The second occasion was rather different. On a long journey I was bursting when we reached a service area. I rushed to the loo but had to wait in a queue where I stood wriggling about, praying I wouldn’t lose all control. When I am really bursting I tend to leak and could feel little spurts of hot wee warming my crotch. At last I reached the cubicle but as I locked the door and before I could lift my skirt and get my pants down my bladder gave up. I began to wet myself and just couldn’t stop. Without thinking I simply sat on the toilet and peed, soaking my knickers and tights. I managed to dry myself off with toilet paper and my black skirt didn’t show the wetness when I sat down, but I spent the rest of the journey home in wet underwear, leaving a large damp patch on my seat when I got off. Sue giggled, saying that not only had she found herself bursting to pee in similar situations but had also wet herself. She told me of one time when the coach had been stuck in a traffic jam and she had wet her seat. She then revealed that this had been so embarrassing that she had decided to take precautions on future journeys. I asked her what sort of precautions. She blushed, whispering that she wore incontinence pads and plastic pants. I was somewhat taken aback but asked her to explain further. She said that a few days after she had soaked her knickers on the coach she had noticed incontinence wear in the chemists and realised that protection might be better than embarrassment. So, plucking up courage she had bought herself a pack of adult disposable nappies and two pairs of waterproof pants. She tried them on under a loose skirt and found them quite comfortable and discrete. But did they work? Blushing scarlet she told me that to test them out she had put on a black skirt, waited till she was desperate and then sat on a garden chair and deliberately wet herself. She had soaked the nappy but the plastic pants kept her clothes and the chair quite dry. After that she wore this protection each time she travelled any distance by coach. Most of the time she said that the added security made her much more relaxed – if she did have a problem it would not matter if she wet herself. And because it didn’t matter she sometimes did just that rather than endure the discomfort of an overfull bladder. Surprised yet intrigued I asked her if she had any nappies and incontinence pants in the flat. She replied that that was why the trunk was locked, as she went to find the key. Sue came back with the key and I followed her into the bedroom, feeling a strange excitement at what would be revealed. She opened the trunk and took out a holdall. Unzipping it she took out some items and placed on her bed several pairs of waterproof pants and a big pack of incontinence pads. Taking out a pad and unfolding it she passed it to me without a word. I was surprised at what it looked like. I had expected an outsize baby’s nappy, but this was more like a pair of heavily padded knickers. I looked at the pack more closely ? Tena Pants Plus, for heavy loss of bladder control. Sue smiled, saying that she wasn’t into baby wear, she was an adult with an occasional bladder control problem and properly designed incontinence garments gave her the protection and confidence she needed. Sue explained that you wore them just like knickers; in her case with a pair of full briefs,light lycra control briefs or a light girdle over the top to disguise the slight bulge.. I asked whether she kept her normal knickers on underneath, to which she replied that the pad was meant to absorb the wee, leaving a dry surface for comfort. However, she always wore cotton knickers as it was both more comfortable and felt rather nice if she did have an accident! I became even more intrigued and she admitted that it was nice in a sensual way. The waterproof pants were of two types. One was simply white pvc the others looked like ordinary polyester briefs but pvc lined. Sue told me that these were the most discrete and although expensive did not rustle when she moved, unlike the basic plastic knickers. In fact under a loose skirt no–one could tell that she was leak proof. To demonstrate she began to put on the special pants, insisting that I try a pair on as well. I was rather nervous about it but took a pair of big lycra briefs from my drawer and copied Sue. Carefully positioning the Tena I pulled my knickers up and looked at myself in the mirror. It really was quite discrete, giving me the appearance of a slightly plump bottom and thickness between my legs but not uncomfortable. I was almost quivering with excitement as I pulled on the waterproof pants and stood there looking at myself in the mirror. With my skirt back on it was true that nobody could tell what I was wearing underneath. I asked what it felt like to do wee in these special clothes. Sue responded by asking me what it had felt like when I had wet my knickers to which I replied that it had felt warm and very wet, and then it had been a relief. She grinned, saying it would feel much the same, except that the wetness would not be running down my legs and making embarrassing puddles. By this time we were both feeling the effects of the wine and needed to wee quite badly. Sue then revealed more guilty secrets to me as she complained that alcohol always seemed to go straight through her. I had noticed when we went to a pub that she always seemed to be running to the loo and always dashed straight to the bathroom when we got home. She then told me several stories of wetting herself on the way home from pubs and clubs. If on her own she did not even try to hold on. Standing in a quiet shop doorway or between a couple of cars she would simply spread her legs and wet her knickers. With friends she would just struggle on and hope she made it home. She would have liked to wear protection but was afraid of what a boyfriend might think if they found out. On a couple of occasions she had had an accident in her knickers while walking home with a boyfriend. One had called her disgusting and walked off and left her but the other had been very protective and gentle, and, from her description very turned on by the event. By this time we were both jiggling about and desperate. Sue said that we ought to go to the loo before we both had an accident but since it wouldn’t matter why bother, it would give me a chance to try out my protective underwear. She explained that it was best to sit or squat when letting go as most of the absorbent gel and padding was in the crotch and up the seat of the pad. Let go standing with a full bladder and the flood could overwhelm the padding. Suddenly Sue gasped and with a serene smile on her face told me that she was wetting herself. She was sitting on her bed with her knees up and I could see right up her skirt. There was no sign of anything amiss in her knickers and she obviously trusted her special underwear to protect her bed. I was absolutely desperate too but kept hanging on. I finally decided to go to loo but Sue stopped me, reminding me that I wanted to know what it felt like to let go without any worries about the result. I felt myself begin to leak, as I always do when bursting. Instinctively I tried to control myself but my bladder took over and I felt a glorious hot wetness spreading over my crotch and bottom. It was wonderful. I seemed to pee for ages, all the time getting more and more turned on. I squeezed myself hard between my legs and came to a shattering climax, oblivious of Sue or anything else. As we talked afterwards, still in our wet pants, Sue admitted that she too had brought herself off and that she found holding on stimulating. The feeling of a full bladder, was, in the right circumstances, very pleasant and the relief of emptying it exquisite. Losing control and the feeling of a hot, wet stream in your pants was both sensual and with the excitement of the added naughtiness. We drank more wine and both wet ourselves again as we talked for ages about wet pleasures. Tired, we eventually went to bed, but not until Sue had persuaded me to wear protective underwear next time we went out to the pub.
By: Poseidon