Posted by Lionheart on October 20, 2000 at 16:20
In Reply to: Best Ever Wetting Exp(Poll) posted by arthur on October 20, 2000 at 11:54
Okay, I'll put in one of mine;
1.My gender: Male.
2.Who did the experience involve: Myself, and two women standing nearby.
3.When: June 1999.
4.Type of experience: Self-induced desperation and public accident.
5. What happened: Here's the story as posted some time back:
My last night in Wichita was a Saturday, and after finishing work, I went back to the hotel and changed into jeans. They were comfy, slightly faded Levi’s 540, to be exact.
I had to get a headlight replaced first, so I drove over to a Pep Boys on the west side of the city, near the Towne West Mall. As I waited for their fast, courteous service, I enjoyed a Diet Coke. When my car was fixed, I drove over to the mall and browsed the bookstore and computer software store, taking my time and always making sure I had a steady supply of Diet Coke or ice water in hand.
Sure enough, I began to get the “twinge” we all know and love. It was about twenty minutes to closing, and I was hoping to get a good urge to go when the mall closed. The plan was to be “lost” in one of the big stores (I chose Lazarus) as they closed, searching for the restrooms in desperation, and then lose control as “the girl” explained directions.
What happened, though, is that the urge was not building as fast as I wanted, and before I knew it, I was in the store, a few minutes after closing, nowhere near as desperate as I would have liked to have been. Behind me, I heard a woman’s voice ask if I was looking for something, and I turned around to see an older woman closing her station, getting ready to leave.
“Umm…actually, I was looking for a restroom, if you have one.”
In a slightly gruff but not impolite voice, she directed me to the facilities. I thanked her, and then headed that way initially, and then just left the store. Strike one.
I drove off, and put plan B into effect, which involves convenience store restrooms. Wichita has several Phillips 66 stations, which have restrooms located in a separate structure on the premises. Nearly all require keys, and have two locks on the door, only one of which is the one to put the key in. If you try to put the key in the wrong lock, it won’t go in all the way, and you have a good excuse to lose it while standing there struggling. Plus, being a Saturday night, lots of people were out driving to malls, movies, etc.
Starting on the west side of town, I pulled into one of the stations, and went inside. A guy and his boss were behind the counter, and no one else was around at the time. It didn’t look good, so I just went into the restroom, waited about 30 seconds, then came out again. I went on my way, and for the next several places, it was pretty much the same story: no good spectators, curmudgeonly looking attendants, and even a police car at one place. To take an edge off the desperation, I finally had to do a partial release at one of the spots halfway across town. Strike two.
Despite getting so desperate that I had had to release some at one of the restrooms along the way, I was doing a pretty good job of maintaining a state of almost losing control. And so it was as I proceeded north on Rock Road, to another P66 station at the southwest corner of Rock and the K96 highway. And here is where I became a believer in the fact that if you’re patient enough, and plan carefully enough, the perfect conditions and circumstances will all come together at once.
As I pulled up to the pumps (I didn’t need gas, but decided to park in view of the attendant booth), I noticed a light brown mini-van that had pulled in just ahead of me and then parked adjacent to the restroom doors. I got out and went in to ask for the key, and at the same time, a strikingly attractive blonde, who had been in the mini-van, in khaki shorts and a white sleeveless top passed me, headed for the women’s restroom with the key. I got the key for the men’s, and followed her outside. I was at this point genuinely urgent, and began final mental preparation for what I thought might be the best chance of the night.
I stepped around between the mini-van and the restroom doors, which had adjacent men’s and women’s to each other, and saw not only the blonde but her friend as well. I didn’t see her friend very well, but she had jeans and a short-sleeve top. Her hair was darker and somewhat shorter than the blonde, whose hair was wavy-curly and came down to just above her shoulders. Both appeared to be in their early thirties, I’m guessing. Believe it or not, they were trying to put the key in the wrong slot as well. Keep in mind that the correct slot is built into the handle that you turn, and is somewhat non-noticeable compared to the larger but incorrect slot built into the door panel. So, they were understandably confused about why their key wasn’t working, and I of course did the same thing, with “no luck.”
As the blonde, her friend and I contemplated how to get the keys to work, I noticed that there were two MORE women in the mini-van, waiting on their friends to do their business. I could only guess that they were all together to enjoy a girl’s night out type of evening. So there I was, full bladder, faded jeans, can’t get the key into the slot, I’m pretty desperate, and there are FOUR women within a few feet of me who have nowhere else to direct their attention to than getting the restroom doors open. This was too good to be true!
Since I was genuinely desperate, or at least enough that I knew there would be no delay in flooding myself if I let go at any given moment, I began to cross my legs momentarily, uncross them, press my knees together, bend slightly, you name it. I know how to do the dance with perfection! Of course, I also muttered in frustration at “not” getting the key to work. As I was doing this, I also heard the two women commenting on not being able to get the key in. Finally, I spoke to them, a twinge of desperation in my voice.
“Geez…I’ve got to get this open NOW! Do you think maybe the keys are on the wrong holder?”
“I don’t know…here, let’s try”, she suggested, offering me their key and taking mine. We resumed trying to get the keys in the slots, to no avail.
“Shit!” I exclaimed. “That’s not it, either.” After a few moments, we traded keys again.
I knew that it was only a matter of seconds before they discovered the correct slot, so it was now the moment of truth. In other words, bottom of the ninth, bases (bladder?) loaded, 2 outs, 2 strikes, yada yada yada.
Just as I heard the brunette say “Hey, try it here…”, I let go.
“Oh no...oh, shit...!” I exclaimed as the front of my jeans blossomed with a dark, glistening patch that bathed my crotch in sudden, intense warmth. I stopped wrestling with the door, and stood still, looking helplessly at my jeans as the ever-widening stain spread down my right leg. The relief was total and excruciating. I wasn’t holding it back at all at this point.
While this was happening, the brunette had gotten the door open and had gone inside. The blonde, seeing what was happening, stepped over to me hurriedly and actually took the key from me as the flood made its way across my thighs and down my right leg. As it reached my left knee and right ankle, it began to softly splatter onto the concrete between my feet, creating a slowly spreading puddle around where I stood.
“Here…let me help you!” she said with a note of urgency as she saw me freeze. After taking the key, she began to work it into the lock. “Oh my…oh dear…oh my….” she softly exclaimed in urgency, watching my accident happen as she worked to open the door for me.
Within a few more seconds she had it open, but by this time it was too late, and my stream was subsiding. I stood there, holding the door open, looking down at the puddle, at my jeans that glistened from crotch to ankle, and finally at her.
“Shit…it’s too late…” I muttered in despair, as I slowly let the door swing shut. “Well, it doesn’t matter now.”
As she eyed me with a mixture of sympathy and uncertainty, her friend came out and handed her the key before stepping into the van. I don’t recall that she saw any of what her blonde friend was witnessing.
“Geez…I’m really sorry...I mean...I just finally couldn’t hold it any more...”
“That’s okay” she said, a slight tone of reassurance in her voice.
“Well…I am really sorry…and embarrassed as hell…”
“Don’t worry, it’s okay.” She stepped back toward the women’s room to take her turn inside.
“Well…could I ask you a favor?” I inquired to her, and started to hand her the men’s key.
“Would you like me to take the key back in, you mean?” she asked in reply.
“Yes, if you would, please…it would save me even more embarrassment, if you know what I mean.”
“Sure…no problem.”
She took the key, and I thanked her, apologizing once again. I don’t know what her brunette friend or the two others in the van actually saw or said, but I’ll be willing to bet that it was the topic of conversation between them for some time that night. I drove back to my hotel, and as it was after 11:00 p.m., I was able to get up inside to my room easily without detection.
Home Run!
6. Did you come or orgasm: After getting back to my hotel...OOOoohhh, yeah!
Email: lion135r@aol.com