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QuakingFaith

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QuakingFaith last won the day on August 18 2013

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  1. I still think it was a good idea in principle. Though might I suggest you take it at the speed I had intended rather than what I did ? Thanks for the kind words everyone else!
  2. The first time I wet myself in front of my husband Tom we had only been going out for a couple of months, so he was my boyfriend then rather than my husband. It was getting fairly serious and I wanted to talk to him about what I feel about wetting. That is to say, to tell him that it turns me on to be desperate and wet myself, and that it would excite me to see him desperate or wetting himself. Unfortunately I was really nervous about talking about it and I kept chickening out and not saying anything about it. Which was frustrating. So I had an idea. What if instead of telling him I like desperation I were to show him? I didn't think it through in advance, which is completely unlike me, it just occurred to me one Sunday whilst we were browsing shops at our local shopping centre (one of those big building with lots of shops, not a street with shops on the side). We stopped for some food soon afterward and I ordered, and drank, an extra-large diet soft drink (I don't drink sugar) with lunch. I normally wouldn't drink much in public as I'd prefer not having to pee if I could avoid it but my plan for the day had become "Get desperate, noticeably desperate. Go to Tom's place. Go pee, in the toilet . Jump him. Let him figure out what made me want him so much at that point in time." And if he didn't work it out I could always just repeat the process later. For future reference it was a pretty warm day and I was wearing a light-weight red cotton dress cut a little above the knee and thongs (or flip-flops? Jandles? rubber things for your feet. I don't wear underwear thongs). I don't remember what underwear I had on. Probably black hipsters if I'm playing the odds, most my knickers are. In hindsight I could have always just have pretended to be desperate. That would have been a more controllable plan. I think I thought I could be more believable if my need was real, and more passionate afterward. Tom wanted to leave and go back to his place after we'd eaten, and I'd drunk . I needed time for the soft drink to get to me though so I dragged Tom into a bunch of stores that neither of us really wanted to be in. Eventually I judged that I was full enough that by the time we had got to Tom's car and driven to his place I'd need to go fairly, though not dangerously, badly. So I let Tom know I'd looked at everything I wanted to. Unfortunately my aimless shopping had given Tom time to think about things that he wanted to look at. And since I'd just dragged him around I could hardly object. After about half an hour, I guess, I was ready to "abort the mission" and just go pee in the shopping centre toilets. I'm pretty much fine with those particular toilets. I know where they are and I don't need to ask anyone about them. But Tom said that there was only one more shop he wanted to look at and it was right near his car (I don't have any recollection of what shop it was, that wasn't the focus of my attention) so I made the decision to walk past the toilets and hang on. Tom took ages in that store! By the time he was done I was having a hard time hiding the fact I was desperate to pee. If we'd been near the toilets at this point I'd have used them. But there weren't any between where we were and the car. I could have made us walk back to them but I didn't want to put Tom out again and I didn't want to give up my plan. I was busting but I was also feeling "sensitive" (those were linked ) and I wanted to get to Tom's place as soon as possible so I could solve both those problems. As soon as we sat down in Tom's ancient Mazda I casually announced that I really should have used the toilet whilst we were in the shopping centre. Tom immediately offered to go back inside with me, he's so nice, but I said that I could wait. I was still certain I was going to make it. Tom has since got rid of that particular car. Partly because it didn't even pretend to have a functioning suspension system. I'd never been busting in Tom's car before that. It was much worse on my bladder then driving literally any other car! I started wriggling about in my seat a little. I actually prefer to sit as still as possible when I need to pee really badly, I was acting the way people expect a desperate woman to act so that when we got closer to Tom's place and I announced that I was desperate to pee it wouldn't seem to come from nowhere. I was concentrating so much on looking like I needed to pee, and on not actually peeing, that I didn't notice Tom had pulled into the tiny parking lot of a local picture framing place. He must have seen my face because he asked my if I minded him having a quick look at some frames. I did mind. I was worried that a delay at this point could lead to wet knickers later. But I told him I didn't mind at all and went into the shop with him. It turns out that the framing shop had the sort of frames that Tom was looking for so he could mount some prints of book covers he had bought earlier. They are really cool and we still have them on our living room wall! But helping him pick frames just wasn't something I had any interest in dealing with at the time and I just went to the back of the shop and stared at something, more frames I guess. I felt sure I was going to wet myself in the store. Whilst Tom negotiated prices with the frame guy his girlfriend was going to soak the carpet in front of the gilded edges. I was panicking. I don't know what I'd have done if I did wet myself there, but I was seriously trying to work it out. Pretend I hadn't and refuse to acknowledge it? Run away? Disappear into a hole it the ground that must surely conveniently open up? Finally Tom was done talking to the frame guy and we left the store. Straight away he asked me what was wrong. I could hardly deny it. I'd been of no help at all with the frames and wasn't talking. So I admitted that I had to pee really badly. He suggested I go back in the store and ask to use their toilet. I didn't explain it to Tom, but I would sooner wet my pants than ask to use a staff toilet. That just isn't something I could do. So instead I told him I'd be all right, but could we go to his place straight away. If I mentioned that the lack of suspension in the Mazda when we were driving between the shopping centre and the framing place was terrible on my bladder then I really have to emphasize that now it was absolutely horrific. I could feel every dip and bump in the road. And they all made we feel like I was about to pee myself. But I could hardly have an accident in the car literally two minutes after I'd said I'd be ok and didn't need to ask to use the framing place's toilet. I wasn't wriggling around any more, I couldn't, I'd have bust. Tom asked me again if I was ok. I tried to respond but started crying instead. I was so scared I was going to pee my pants in my boyfriends car. A boyfriend I hadn't had long enough to be sure that it wouldn't be relationship damaging. He kept asking me what was wrong (he does that a lot!) and eventually I reiterated that I was dying for a pee. I think he'd assumed that if I'd had to go as badly as I did I'd have asked at the framing place and so had discounted that possibility. He consoled me and said that it would be ok and we were nearly at his place. I laid my handbag over my lap as casually as I could and slipped my hand up my dress. I don't find holding myself helps very much but in this particular situation I was ready to try anything that might keep the car dry. It didn't help that day either and successive bumps turned my knickers damp, and then wet beneath my fingers. The car pulled up and I was about to resign myself to the inevitable and let go what I realized that we weren't at a traffic light. We were in front of Tom's house! I'd been so focused on my bladder I had no idea where we were. I nonchalantly removed my hand from between my legs and stood up out of the car. This cost me a leak down my thigh but I managed to stop. I had to, frustratingly, wait until Tom walked round the car and was in front of me before I could walk up the pathway as I was worried that the back of my dress was going to be wet from my leaking in the car. I made it as far as the front door. I'm not good with front doors. I've made more puddles on doorsteps than anywhere else. Tom had just unlocked the front door and pushed it open. The toilet at Tom's place was literally opposite the front door. It wouldn't have been five meters. But it may as well have been five kilometers. I wasn't going to make it. I couldn't wait another second or take another step. A torrent of pee rushed out of me. Tom didn't notice and started to move into his house. I grabbed his arm firmly and he turned around to face me. I couldn't say it. I looked down at where my pee was starting to splatter on his doormat. I flicked my eyes up to check that he was looking down at my puddle. When I was finished I was so embarrassed that I started crying again. I couldn't make myself look at him. Tom gave me a quick hug and a brief (not sexy) kiss and told me to jump in the shower and pass him my clothes. I didn't have anything else to wear at his place (or wear home!). When I got to the bathroom and took off my dress I saw that there was indeed a big wet patch on the seat of it from where I'd leaked in the car. So even if I'd made it to the toilet instead of only the doorstep I'd still probably have had to admit to wetting myself. I calmed down in the shower. Whilst I certainly hadn't intended to actually wet myself at least it was only in front of Tom and he had been ok about it. Thinking back he was actually super nice considering I looked like a silly girl who couldn't gauge when she needed to pee and wet herself on his house. When I came out of the shower I found something Tom and I could do whilst I waited for my clothes to wash. It was as passionate as I'd hoped. Wetting myself always leaves me super excited and sensitive. Afterward we talked about what had happened and I confessed everything about how I'd deliberately gotten desperate so I could use it to explain the things I like. And how I'd misjudged things and was sorry for wetting his doormat and maybe his car seat (it was fine). He isn't into wetting for his own sake and I try not to wet myself in front of him outside of the bedroom. Now that he knows it doesn't embarrass me to pee my pants in front of him any more he thinks it's funny. Which embarrasses me . In the bedroom I wet my knickers regularly as foreplay and Tom has wet his briefs on top of me for my pleasure quite a few times. Which I like a lot, though not so much as if he were to wet his pants outside the bedroom. That would drive me wild! It's taken me a couple of hours to write this story and I have to pee pretty bad right now. I'm feeling quite excited remembering this stuff so after I hit post I'm going to go stand in the bath and pee in my knickers.
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