Estelle
Sun, 23 Nov 03, 8:33 PM
HOLIDAY WETTING
I thought it was about time I started telling you about some of the things I’ve been getting up to over the last six or nine months. I’ve had writer’s block for ages. This is an attempt to get over it and it will have to take its chances as it is. Otherwise I’ll never get writing again. It was brought to mind by Anke’s post about wetting on a bicycle.
Last summer, just before the busy holiday period, I suddenly decided I needed a few days away from Bristol. I booked some leave from work, gathered together some walking boots, my bicycle and a tent and took off for Cornwall on the train. I knew a few good camp sites in places that are not too busy at that time of year and by evening I was in one of my favourites, overlooking the sea.
The next day I enjoyed a long walk along the coast path, stopping off at a pub for lunch and a couple of pints in the pub garden. As I ate and drank, my eye was drawn repeatedly to the young woman serving the lunches. She must have been about 19 or 20 with a slightly goth look to her hair and make-up. I wished I was there in my “on the town” clothes rather than in jeans and walking boots. I found her very very attractive.
By the time I left I was aroused, slightly drunk and in need of a pee. As I walked hazily along the road that led back to the footpath I wished that I could just pee in my knickers as I walked, but in my walking gear it was out of the question. I had to do something though. I was almost wetting myself before I had gone a hundred yards and as soon as I was out of sight of the village, climbing up a hill between high hedges I couldn’t wait any longer.
I quickly checked that no-one was coming. Since I couldn’t get off the road I just pulled down my jeans and squatted down in the middle of the road. I decided to pee through my knickers and I enjoyed the warmth and wetness as I watched the stream snake away down the hill. I fantasised that the girl in the pub was standing watching me and began to get very turned on. I was just about to put my hand between my legs when I heard a car coming down the hill behind me. I hurriedly pulled up my jeans and started walking up the hill. As the car passed me I wondered what the driver would make of the long wet trickle in the middle of the road when he came to a few seconds later. That thought aroused me even more and the feeling stayed with me all afternoon.
The following day I made definite plans. It was warm and fine so I put on a short skirt and headed out on the bike. I went down to a small bay a few miles away and spent a couple of hours wandering among the rocks. On the one occasion I needed a pee I just sat on a flat, sloping rock and peed in my panties, again enjoying the sight of my pee trickling across the rock surface. There is something about a pee trickle that really gets me going! I put my hand between my legs and felt the wet fabric of my panties against my fanny, imagining the goth girl was there beside me. I was already looking forward to sitting in the pub garden and watching her.
As lunchtime approached I got back on my bike and rode the next few miles to the pub. I enjoyed the feeling of the saddle pressing my still damp panties between my legs. Just before I got there I stopped quickly put on one of the several dry pairs I had brought with me. By half past twelve I was again sitting in the pub garden with a pint of local cider, waiting for my lunch.
It took a while to arrive and when the girl brought it my pint of cider was already nearly finished. She gave me a quick glance as she put the food on the table and I began to wonder if she might be gay. She asked me if I wanted another drink and gave me the same glance when she brought it a few minutes later. After that, the pub began to get seriously busy and she took no further notice of me. As for me, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
By the time I was half way through my meal I was seriously in need of a pee. I had deliberately chosen a table in a corner of the garden with a hedge on two sides. The nearest other table was twenty yards away and I could easily see anyone approaching. A perfect place for a quiet pee in my knickers. The chair was a plastic garden chair with slits in the seat, so pee would go straight through it. The table provided a little cover. The thought of wetting myself right here with people all around and unaware of what was happening under their noses really turned me on.
I squeezed my legs together and felt the familiar intense tingling I get when I really need to go. I checked that I was not sitting on my skirt. Then, crossing one leg over the other I wet myself for about ten seconds. I heard my wee pattering onto the grass. I stopped peeing for a moment enjoying the wetness between my legs. Then the warmth over my fanny and around my bum made the tingling even more intense and I wet again for another ten seconds, unable to stop.
I looked across the garden and saw the girl passing with another set of lunches. She really was very sexy. I watched her for another couple of minutes then, looking directly at her imagined myself pulling her hand between my legs and let go, wetting my knickers for about twenty or thirty seconds. By the time I was finished I was on fire. I was getting quite drunk by now and it made me giggle to think of myself wetting my knickers and having sexy fantasies in front of all these people and not one of them knew.
After a while I went back to eating my lunch. When I had finished I sat, staring at the sea and enjoying the sunshine. Suddenly I was aware of the girl, across the table from me, asking if I had finished. She cleared the plates away and asked again if I wanted another drink. After a moment’s hesitation I thought what the hell and said yes.
I stayed for another hour or so with my third pint, watching the sea, watching the girl, getting drunk and wetting my knickers whenever I needed to. One time I put my hand between my legs and squeezed tightly until I peed all over my fingers. Another time I just spread my legs apart and let the stream flow as it would. Then, as I felt the need to pee again come on I rose to leave.
I got on my bike a little unsteadily and rode off up the road. My knickers were still very wet from all the wetting in the pub garden and the saddle rubbed them against my fanny as I peddled. As I went up the hill I fancied I could still see the stain of yesterday’s pee stream on the road. This made me giggle and I started saying “I wet myself” over and over again. By the time I got to the top of the hill I was laughing out loud and as I began to freewheel down the gentle slope on the other side I gripped the saddle tightly with my thighs and began to wet again. This time I made no attempt to stop it. A long spurt of wee soaked my knickers again and ran down my legs, leaving a long wet trail behind me. I rocked back on the saddle, releasing it slightly, and a stronger stream poured out and cascaded onto the road. I continued to freewheel for a hundred yards or so, splashing and spattering the road until I came to a stop. The pee continued to stream down my legs forming a large puddle around my feet.
I just let it run, hoping that no cars or bikes came by. Luckily they didn’t. When the stream finally stopped I got off the bike and looked back at the pee spattered road. I began to laugh again. Now that really would draw attention when the next car came along!
That’s the end of what actually happened that day. That evening I began to make up a story about what might have happened if the girl and I had got talking. It’s only in note form so far but I hope I might get to write it up properly. If I do I’ll post it here. I might also try to write up what happened the night it tipped down with rain!
I thought it was about time I started telling you about some of the things I’ve been getting up to over the last six or nine months. I’ve had writer’s block for ages. This is an attempt to get over it and it will have to take its chances as it is. Otherwise I’ll never get writing again. It was brought to mind by Anke’s post about wetting on a bicycle.
Last summer, just before the busy holiday period, I suddenly decided I needed a few days away from Bristol. I booked some leave from work, gathered together some walking boots, my bicycle and a tent and took off for Cornwall on the train. I knew a few good camp sites in places that are not too busy at that time of year and by evening I was in one of my favourites, overlooking the sea.
The next day I enjoyed a long walk along the coast path, stopping off at a pub for lunch and a couple of pints in the pub garden. As I ate and drank, my eye was drawn repeatedly to the young woman serving the lunches. She must have been about 19 or 20 with a slightly goth look to her hair and make-up. I wished I was there in my “on the town” clothes rather than in jeans and walking boots. I found her very very attractive.
By the time I left I was aroused, slightly drunk and in need of a pee. As I walked hazily along the road that led back to the footpath I wished that I could just pee in my knickers as I walked, but in my walking gear it was out of the question. I had to do something though. I was almost wetting myself before I had gone a hundred yards and as soon as I was out of sight of the village, climbing up a hill between high hedges I couldn’t wait any longer.
I quickly checked that no-one was coming. Since I couldn’t get off the road I just pulled down my jeans and squatted down in the middle of the road. I decided to pee through my knickers and I enjoyed the warmth and wetness as I watched the stream snake away down the hill. I fantasised that the girl in the pub was standing watching me and began to get very turned on. I was just about to put my hand between my legs when I heard a car coming down the hill behind me. I hurriedly pulled up my jeans and started walking up the hill. As the car passed me I wondered what the driver would make of the long wet trickle in the middle of the road when he came to a few seconds later. That thought aroused me even more and the feeling stayed with me all afternoon.
The following day I made definite plans. It was warm and fine so I put on a short skirt and headed out on the bike. I went down to a small bay a few miles away and spent a couple of hours wandering among the rocks. On the one occasion I needed a pee I just sat on a flat, sloping rock and peed in my panties, again enjoying the sight of my pee trickling across the rock surface. There is something about a pee trickle that really gets me going! I put my hand between my legs and felt the wet fabric of my panties against my fanny, imagining the goth girl was there beside me. I was already looking forward to sitting in the pub garden and watching her.
As lunchtime approached I got back on my bike and rode the next few miles to the pub. I enjoyed the feeling of the saddle pressing my still damp panties between my legs. Just before I got there I stopped quickly put on one of the several dry pairs I had brought with me. By half past twelve I was again sitting in the pub garden with a pint of local cider, waiting for my lunch.
It took a while to arrive and when the girl brought it my pint of cider was already nearly finished. She gave me a quick glance as she put the food on the table and I began to wonder if she might be gay. She asked me if I wanted another drink and gave me the same glance when she brought it a few minutes later. After that, the pub began to get seriously busy and she took no further notice of me. As for me, I couldn’t take my eyes off her.
By the time I was half way through my meal I was seriously in need of a pee. I had deliberately chosen a table in a corner of the garden with a hedge on two sides. The nearest other table was twenty yards away and I could easily see anyone approaching. A perfect place for a quiet pee in my knickers. The chair was a plastic garden chair with slits in the seat, so pee would go straight through it. The table provided a little cover. The thought of wetting myself right here with people all around and unaware of what was happening under their noses really turned me on.
I squeezed my legs together and felt the familiar intense tingling I get when I really need to go. I checked that I was not sitting on my skirt. Then, crossing one leg over the other I wet myself for about ten seconds. I heard my wee pattering onto the grass. I stopped peeing for a moment enjoying the wetness between my legs. Then the warmth over my fanny and around my bum made the tingling even more intense and I wet again for another ten seconds, unable to stop.
I looked across the garden and saw the girl passing with another set of lunches. She really was very sexy. I watched her for another couple of minutes then, looking directly at her imagined myself pulling her hand between my legs and let go, wetting my knickers for about twenty or thirty seconds. By the time I was finished I was on fire. I was getting quite drunk by now and it made me giggle to think of myself wetting my knickers and having sexy fantasies in front of all these people and not one of them knew.
After a while I went back to eating my lunch. When I had finished I sat, staring at the sea and enjoying the sunshine. Suddenly I was aware of the girl, across the table from me, asking if I had finished. She cleared the plates away and asked again if I wanted another drink. After a moment’s hesitation I thought what the hell and said yes.
I stayed for another hour or so with my third pint, watching the sea, watching the girl, getting drunk and wetting my knickers whenever I needed to. One time I put my hand between my legs and squeezed tightly until I peed all over my fingers. Another time I just spread my legs apart and let the stream flow as it would. Then, as I felt the need to pee again come on I rose to leave.
I got on my bike a little unsteadily and rode off up the road. My knickers were still very wet from all the wetting in the pub garden and the saddle rubbed them against my fanny as I peddled. As I went up the hill I fancied I could still see the stain of yesterday’s pee stream on the road. This made me giggle and I started saying “I wet myself” over and over again. By the time I got to the top of the hill I was laughing out loud and as I began to freewheel down the gentle slope on the other side I gripped the saddle tightly with my thighs and began to wet again. This time I made no attempt to stop it. A long spurt of wee soaked my knickers again and ran down my legs, leaving a long wet trail behind me. I rocked back on the saddle, releasing it slightly, and a stronger stream poured out and cascaded onto the road. I continued to freewheel for a hundred yards or so, splashing and spattering the road until I came to a stop. The pee continued to stream down my legs forming a large puddle around my feet.
I just let it run, hoping that no cars or bikes came by. Luckily they didn’t. When the stream finally stopped I got off the bike and looked back at the pee spattered road. I began to laugh again. Now that really would draw attention when the next car came along!
That’s the end of what actually happened that day. That evening I began to make up a story about what might have happened if the girl and I had got talking. It’s only in note form so far but I hope I might get to write it up properly. If I do I’ll post it here. I might also try to write up what happened the night it tipped down with rain!