Late Developer

At the ripe age of 52 I thought I knew myself sexually yet, I recently discovered a new facet, totally unexpected and very much by accident. The accident in question being in my knickers, down my legs and in a spreading puddle on the bathroom floor! I wet myself! I’m still not sure why it happened. I can usually hold on quite well when desperate, though as with many women my age Tena Lady are essential wear when I have a bad cough, as having had three children does rather weaken ones pelvic floor.Anyway, I had utterly and completely wet my knickers, tights, control pants (which I wear over my tights), skirt, everything, something that I had rarely done before in my adult life other than a few occasions when pregnant (when I had also once wet the bed). That was a long time ago and any woman who has been pregnant will have similar tales to tell. So there I stood. Soaking wet, face flushed red with embarrassment and a strange excitement, wee still dripping down my legs but with a feeling of incredible release almost akin to an orgasm and hornier than I had felt in years. The feeling as the hot wee filled by pants and washed over my clit before pouring down my legs was unbelievable and once it started I didn’t want it to stop. Without thinking I had pulled up my skirt and squeezed myself through my pants, the extra pressure on my throbbing little button sending me over the top, gasping and crying as waves of pleasure rippled over me. And all the time my husband stood there watching me, a huge bulge in his trousers!As my orgasm subsided I felt him pull me to him, kissing me wildly on the lips, one hand between my legs caressing me through my soaking undies as I moaned in delight. Then, grabbing the towels from the rail he dragged me to the bedroom, pulled back the covers and threw the towels onto the bed pushing me down on top of them, all the time fondling my wet bottom. Then, slowly, he pulled my undies down and took me more passionately that I can ever remember. I actually had a multiple orgasm for the first time in years and peed myself again as I came. It was some time before we came back to earth.After mopping up the bathroom floor and putting the towels and my underwear in the washing machine we poured a glass of wine and tried to make sense of it all.We were on holiday in a small chalet we own on a little park in mid–Wales and had strolled the half mile or so down to the village pub for a drink before dinner. I’d only had a couple of gin and tonics so wasn’t drunk and did not feel the need to visit the ladies before the 20 minute walke home. We had only been walking for a few minutes though when I suddenly found myself needing to wee and badly. I started to walk faster and when my husband asked why I told him that I was suddenly desperate for the loo and explained that I hadn’t needed to go when we left but the gin seemed to have gone straight through me! With a smile he suggested I duck behind the hedge and when I pointedly refused said that going behind the hedge might be better than wet pants– how prophetic.I told him in no uncertain terms that my pants would stay very dry thank you very much, but with the chalet park in site I was becoming increasingly unsure of my ability to hold on. However, my husband seemed to be walking so slowly, and he had the door key. I urged him to hurry, saying that I was desperate and I was, jiggling around and crossing my legs and squeezing my thighs as I tried to control a bursting bladder. He just laughed telling me that I looked a right sight and to act my age. By now I was sweating and in a panic and just blurted out that if he didn’t hurry up I really was going to have a very public accident.How I made it to the chalet without embarrassing myself I really don’t know. As we reached the door I almost lost it, the anticipation of reaching the loo making me momentarily lose control and I felt a hot trickle in my knickers. Hubby fumbled with the lock as I urged him to hurry as I was doing it in my pants. As the door swung open, I dashed for the toilet but the battle was already lost. That first trickle became a flood as I felt a hot wetness fill my satin knickers, initially held back by my tights and control briefs then flooding down my thighs just as I got into the loo. I tried to pull my skirt up and undies down but it was far too late. I suppose I could have sat on the loo and just done it through my pants that way but I was in shock at what I was doing and just stood there, a seemingly never ending torrent in my knickers, cascading down my legs, into my shoes and across the floor.Thinking about it now the sexual outcome was a result of the feelings from my bursting bladder, my tight underwear rubbing me in the right places, the tension as I became desperate and nervous of what might happen and the sudden loss of control. Add the hot wee over my already sensitive clit and it all started to make sense. My husband said that when I first mentioned my need he had treated it as a joke. I sometimes sit fidgeting at home waiting for a break in a TV programme and telling him I need the loo. He admitted that he wondered if I always made it dry (I usually had) and had sometimes pulled my pants out of the laundry basket to see if they were wet or had pee stains! However, the little leaks that like most women, have remained my secret– the Tena Lady or my private wash bin saw to that.He then admitted that the idea of me wetting myself, whether a damp gusset from leaving it a bit late in getting to the loo or soaking wet following a full accident excited him. When he realised that I really was bursting as we walked back he had had trouble hiding his excitement and had to walk slowly to hide the huge erection he was sporting. The more he delayed the more desperate I became, adding to his tension (and mine!). When I lost control in front of him and just stood there wetting myself he had almost come in his trousers! He had wanted to hold me close then but was afraid of my reaction but when I made myself come he just had to grab me, feel my wet pants and ravish me.We made love again that night, slowly and delicately,it was gorgeous and then talked further about me wetting myself. I didn’t quite promise to do it again but privately was intrigued by the feelings that I had experienced.A couple of days later hubby went off fishing for the day and I had the chalet to myself. I sat in the sun reading and drinking copious amounts of iced water. The sun was warm, my book interesting and I kept putting of going to the loo even though I was getting very full. In fact I was quite enjoying the feeling. The deck at the back off our chalet is very private, overlooking woodland and fields. With no one about I slipped my hand up my skirt and began to rub myself through my cotton knickers, partly to help me hold my bursting bladder and partly because my need to pee was making my clit tingle. I was in heaven as I gradually let myself become desperate again. So desperate that it was pointless trying to get up from my sun lounger; I already knew I wouldn’t make it to the loo. Then it happened. A hot flood poured into my knickers and over my hand and I came almost immediately. I lay there for some time, quite enjoying the feeling of wet pants on my private parts.Now I knew that the feelings when I had had the earlier accident in my pants were not an aberration but an incredibly sensual experience and one that I had just repeated, albeit in private. However, I knew two things, one that I loved the feeling of wetting myself and secondly that it would also turn my husband on if I could pluck up the courage to do it in front of him again. The more I thought about it the more I knew I had to do it.Ever practical I decided that the deck was rather more suitable for wet activities than the bathroom floor and that some protection on the bed might be beneficial. As hubby would not be back for some time I took the car into the nearby town and bought a waterproof mattress cover which went straight onto the bed with a thick towel over it and under the sheet.That evening we went to the pub again and this time I drank lager, which I know always makes me want to pee. My husband knows it as well but said nothing as I refrained from using the ladies before we left. I was soon desperate again and this time laughed and joked about my condition, loving his response to my very genuine desperation. I almost misjudged it and had already leaked badly by the time we arrived back at the chalet. My knickers and tights were quite wet as were the tops of my thighs but nothing was yet visible. Pulling hubby out onto the deck I kissed him passionately and pulled his hand between my legs, hearing him gasp as he felt my wetness. God Cal, you’ve peed yourself. he gasped as another trickle warmed my crotch. I’m bursting, I whispered. I can’t hang on; I’m going to have an accident in my knickers. Then his fingers found my clit and I lost all control, totally wetting myself for the second time that day. Muttering that the bed was protected I dragged him into the bedroom where he practically took me by force, ripping the gusset of my tights and having me through the leg of my dripping wet knickers.Exhausted, we drifted off to sleep, he naked except for a T–shirt and me with just my top and still in my pee–soaked underwear. The bed was wet beneath me but I didn’t care and fell asleep immediately. I awoke a couple of hours later, badly needing to pee again, and almost panicked at first my underwear and the sheet were still damp of course and as I came round initially thought that I had wet the bed! This gave me an idea that initially shocked me. I needed to pee again and was already wet; so why not just do it as I lay there? The sheer naughtiness of deliberately wetting my bed intrigued me, what would it feel like? I now knew how it felt to wet my pants so wetting the bed was perhaps a logical next step.I rolled over and put my arm round my husband. Still asleep he stirred as I gently rubbed my wet knickers against him. We lay like this for another half hour until I could hold my bursting bladder no more. As I lay on my side gently cuddling hubby I felt the now familiar hot wetness flood my pants and pour over my thigh, spreading under me, soaking my top and the sheet, a warm spreading wetness, enveloping me and my beloved. As my flood soaked him he woke, wondering what was going on but I simply held him tight whispering into his ear that I had had another accident and had wet the bed. We made love again in the warm puddle on a soaking sheet.Let’s just say that the rest of the holiday involved a great deal of washing– sheets, towels and many pairs of my knickers and tights. I wet my pants every day, usually for hubby as much as myself, but a couple of times for my own pleasure. On several mornings I simply wet the bed rather than get up to use the loo and each time enjoyed not only the experience but the sex that followed.Back home now I have to be more careful. I had rather got used to letting myself get desperate, not caring if my knickers were wet when I eventually went to the loo and of course, simply wetting myself for hubby. After some near misses at work (I carried spare pants following an afternoon spent wondering if anyone knew my knickers were wet) I limited my waiting and desperation to weekends. I had to be careful of the bed wetting as well,it had almost become a habit and on one occasion I woke bursting in the early hours and simply let go, dozing afterwards and only realising that I had wet the bed when I woke up again. Of course it was a work day and although I just had time for a quick shower I had to leave the bed till I got home. The sight of our wet bed that evening made me realise that I had to make sure not to lose control of myself, especially as I had been bursting on the bus home and had wet my pants again. As I sat on the loo there I realised that there was little point taking them off as they were already wet!
By: Poseidon