Wetting

[pa****]

My first wetting
I wore very tight black jeans. I quickly consumed a litre of high-caffeine soda in half an hour. On the way to the bus stop, I felt a faint need to go but quickly consumed a third bottle, now 1.5 litres consumed in under 45 minutes.

I had packed a chain with me. I like the porn videos on Lovewetting where the girls wore chain belts locked with padlocks to their jeans and the key was hidden around town. They rarely found the key without wetting in public first and I found this idea thrilling. I had placed two padlocks in my bag and though the key wasn’t hidden in town - I knew I would have to make it home. I had kind of planned this much, and to make my desperation even more risque with the threat of potential *** I had gone pantless. My jeans being black, having a coat, a rucksack, a bag and a handbag offered minor protection but the risk was very much there as my jeans were beginning to fall apart. Well worn at the crotch and the knees.

Without stopping to think about the consequences I imagined the desperate videos in my head as I waited at the bus stop. Bus stops without toilets were a favourite, as, even without a chain belt to restrict toilet use, there was something about being bursting by a main public road where it’s for every car and every person that passes to watch desperation.

I didn’t plan to wet. I didn’t want to wet and that was unplanned. I knew some of the videos with the chains and the journeys involved diuretics and most of the girls started very desperate and then had to have a beer en route - so I popped two cranberry concentrates in my mouth as a mild diuretic, then put the chain through my belt loops. There were three padlocks in my bag. A previous attempt at public desperation where I had managed to make it all the way home without wetting myself had made me try and step up the challenge. Three keys aligned to the padlocks but two of the keys were the same, and so were two of the padlocks. I had frozen a key at the bottom of a litre bottle of water. I had put glue on the key to make it harder to unfreeze. I had wrapped it in a sellotape and knotted it with several constrictor knots using fishing line wire so it would be a long time till it could be used - the ice would have to melt. The sellotape would be unpicked, the glue dissolved, and several very tight constrictor knots cut or undone.

The other two keys I did the same for in another larger bottle of water. This one was even more wrapped up in glue and sellotape. They had been in the freezer for days and a small sensible part of me remembered that for the two padlocks that were the same, there was a third key in my room. I considered the possibility of the key for the third padlock changing shape being frozen and never being able to use it so only used two padlocks. I liked the very real *** of going home, making it and managing to hold on while defrosting all the keys, unpicking them and then finding they had changed shape and couldn't be used and I would have to seek an alternative method. But more for the future, I think!

The keys were all at home. Pulling both chains together as tight as possible, then squeezing beyond comfort so my bladder felt pressure I quickly locked the chain in place, padlock through the first link of the chain on the left-hand side going through the second belt loop on the right and the furthest chain loop I could squeeze into. I regretted the tightness instantly ...but already turned on by the situation and the publicness of my desperation I took the other padlock and put one end in the hole of my zipper, threading this through the chain.

As soon as I did this, a cold shot of *** went through me. My bladder was filling up - but despite my nerves, for some reason, I liked this feeling and tried to make it more severe on purpose. I listened to music of rain and clips of people urinating in a toilet on spotify. I looked at my favourite desperation porn, imagining their shame and reading stories about desperate unwanted humiliating wetting in public where the desperation is real and the shame is red-faced and *** is very clear.

I had seen limited porn showing wetting on a bus. One, with a girl bursting after drinking a large 2 litre bottle of water that waits and eventually, she goes to the bathroom, sure she can relieve herself but finds it locked. This is her nightmare and she wets her blue shorts and bursts into tears. This idea turned me on. In the comments on some of the travel videos where wetting is semi-public, there are comments about ‘she nearly wets on the tram’ and ’that would be magic to wet on the bus’ - and I wanted to be this desperate. To be about to wet or the train or the bus. I wanted someone to notice…people to like watching me suffer. So I crossed my legs on purpose, applied pressure, moved, and fidgeted.

Arriving at the bus stop I sat down and doubled over the jeans so that the material above the chain belt was folded over the chain belt. I wasn’t bursting yet. I wanted more - I would wait 28 minutes for the next bus. This was a mistake. I crossed my legs and tapped my feet. Watched people go in and out of the ladies’ room and even joined the queue to tease myself. I bent forward and back and moved the belt up and down so it was on my bladder. I began to become desperate enough and thought it wise to get another available bus - but they had come and gone. The one I was waiting for was the slowest bus that took over half an hour with no traffic.

I stopped moving, stopped looking at pictures, turned off the peeing music and just opened my legs wide. It was then I panicked and realized I was now in severe trouble and it wasn't just a fantasy. It was real. Trying to make it worse had actually distracted me from the fact I was by now absolutely http://bursting….it (http://bursting….it) was 9 minutes to 5. The bus was due at 5 and I longed to quickly run to the public toilet that was open but knew the chain belt was locked on far too tightly. A man stared as I failed to stand still in the 9-minute wait for the bus. A woman had seen me chugging the drink earlier and had seen me tightening the belt - and now as I sat down I felt her watching me as if amused as I tried not to move and be nonchalant. The traffic was terrible - 10 minutes of desperation passed and we hadn't moved. The driver clocked my expression and saw me discreetly trying to loosen the belt and from then on seemed to stop…start…..STOP, as much as possible.

I was about to wet myself and the lady watching me made me self-conscious, but also turned me on and made a drop of moisture fall down my leg. This felt like pee and scared me!… I saw a takeaway restaurant at the next stop and decided to get off. I thought that if there was a toilet though I couldn’t take down my jeans I could use some tissues to absorb some of the urine if I peed through my jeans on the toilet. A drop escaped at the thought. I ran to the restaurant and to my dismay - no toilet. I felt like crying. I was absolutely busting and now I had to wait for the next bus. I hated the idea of wetting myself but saw the next bus was 20 minutes later. I crossed the road and waited at the bus stop bench there. I knew that a few spurts would make the pressure worse. Having watched porn, starting to pee for a few seconds and then stopping is very hard and makes one more desperate…I liked this idea but part of me hoped I could release the tension and then just stop and feel less desperate.

A spurt of 2 seconds was too hard to control and I let go for 5 seconds…..leaving a big wet stain on my bum. I was relieved my jeans were black but the puddle on the floor was a telltale sign. I thought I’d be fine but as I went to walk back to the side of the road to wait for the bus the desperation now felt worse than ever. A man passed. A man sat next to me and I sat, breath hurting, trying to hold back. I was in agony until he left. Then every few minutes I let out a few spurts. I tried to keep my legs apart so that the front of my jeans wasn’t wet but the back of my legs were now very wet. A woman sat beside me. I panicked as I was still desperate and she seemed to stay there. I had no more chances to pee. I tied my jacket around my waist praying she didn’t notice the wetness on my legs and went to the other side of the road. She stared at me. I felt self-conscious as men were standing on the other side of the road. I leaned back against a wall with the coat flipped up at the back and let a drop, just a single drop, out. Another. But every drop felt like nothing and I was pacing frantically...it only felt worse!

Then another girl turned up. She seemed to clock what had happened and seemed to like knowing my discomfort. This feeling of not knowing how to stand or hold or look or feel went on for about 10 minutes.

The bus came and I got on and I went upstairs. No seats. To get to the seats at the back of the bus I had to step over a dog….I felt people looking at my jeans as the coat parted. I sat at the back….more desperate than ever. A couple of people glanced at me. I'm not sure if they knew. To make matters worse, two ladies got on. One was desperate to pee and kept talking about it. I couldn’t wait for my stop. I nearly lost my bladder on the bus and got off with the desperate ladies. When walking off the bus I think people noticed again. It was dark when I got off the bus and though it was a major road, I just couldn’t wait anymore. I stood behind the bus stop, facing the traffic. I held my coat over my arm in front of me and just let go. The bus was still there but it was dark and I was behind the bus stop. I sensed that the two women from the bus stop earlier knew, and a few people on the bus - but otherwise, it felt like just the right amount of risk. Most people hadn’t noticed…maybe no one had. I felt a bit tearful for some reason. I felt like I should be paddled or punished, and imagined a disciplinarian man berating me when I got home. I imagined how the story would have been had the jeans been bright blue…how humiliating it would feel. As I walked home the girls behind me seemed to stop and laugh and I wondered if the jeans were less forgiving than I’d thought. Walking home from that stop I thought about the teasing I might have got if the jeans had been blue and how this feeling of shame would have been much more. When I got home, I was bright red-faced and puffy-eyed. But excited.

What if I hadn’t had a coat? Blue jeans? What if it had been light? All these things turned me on and when I got home I thought about the unplanned wetting and how much more *exciting* it could be. I’m thinking about blue jeans next time but bringing the keys with me in frozen bottles…..what do you think?

[pa****]

Today reminds me of this

[sk****]

that is so sexy

[pa****]

A recent wetting was so much more humiliating