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female The One Time I was Given Permission to Pee My Pants


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My parents and I were driving back to our house from my grandparents’ house. The drive was around three hours and I fell asleep in the back seat about twenty minutes after we left. I was seventeen at

Great story Mikey! We have some similar experiences. I have wondered myself why my mother changed me that day. I would of happily swam in my wet clothes. Who understands mothers sometimes? I've got a

I honestly feel like 'mikey mike' and 'Barry' are the same person, they both have the their first name in their name, they both have reallllly similar writing styles, and everytime one of them writes

That's so kind that your parents condoned your wetting in the midst of your plight. Sometimes parents can be the most understanding. 

Considering I was much less savvy about concealing my wet fun as a teenager there were numerous instances in my life when my mother discovered evidence of my wettings. I was mortified once to find that a pair of jeans that I had just wet the night before were hanging on a line to dry in our laundry room! I also had to answer once to an incredulous mother when she kindly decided to wash my sheets for me, only to find a large stained spot on the bed from a recent wetting. Since she thought I had accidentally wet myself, she was very endearing, if not a little concerned but never brought it up again as I became more discrete. 

 

Please share more stories!

 

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I had a lot of accidents as a kid. Mostly little ones, a wet spot a couple of inches in diameter, that you'd see if I opened my legs. But some bigger ones too...

 

And being 'given permission' like this … to let go of the struggle to hold on, and just let go and wet myself in a way that's about to happen to me anyway, with my parents' full awareness and compassion … stories like this are a favourite to me.

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That is such a cute story, and I'm glad you had understanding parents who didn't blame you for peeing on yourself.

 

I wet my pants deliberately a lot as a kid, and since I was just a kid, my attempts at hiding it were often sub-par. Things like throwing wet undies straight into the laundry, burying them beneath other clothes. My parents never said anything, though, even though they must have figured I was doing it deliberately.

 

Miss those days :p .

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I couldn’t bear to ever wear those again, not because I peed in them, but because I peed in them in front of my parents.

Exactly same as me! It was so humiliating to wet my pants in front of my big sis and even more... her children (My old story "Theme park accident"). So, I never put those jeans on me again, because I thought they remember my mistake if I wear same clothes!
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What a suspenseful telling of a horribly embarrassing experience! You make it easy to imagine the situation you were in, how your parents were kindly supportive, and how you struggled to avoid the ultimate disaster. I hope to read more stories of your wet adventures.

 

From this story I would never have guessed that one of your interests is wetting. You even said that you threw away your wet panties away because you'd peed them in front of your parents. Did you ever think back on the experience with pleasure and even arousal? More generally, how and when did you discover your pee fetish? Do you have special clothes for wetting, or do you wet whatever you're wearing that be easily washed without revealing your wet secret?

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I have to say that your parents definitely handled that situation better than most of the folks I grew up with would have. :)   And I can only imagine how embarrassed you must have been at the time.  

 

And also, welcome to the site! You write really well, and I look forward to reading more of your experiences, if you choose to share them. Have a great day!

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I experience something similar when I was about 12 and with my family at a fouth of july fireworks show. The crowd was thick and the fireworks were about to start when I told my mom that I had to use the bathroom. With the portapotties being far away and no chance of keeping out spot if we left now, she told me, "Just go, no one will notice." Definitely a nice memory!

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I got permission to on a couple of occasions.

Once when I was about 9, I was watching TV and started to feel the first minor urge to go, but not badly yet. Mum came in and told me we were going for a walk to the shop. I wanted to keep watching TV, but she had to go and wasn't leaving me home alone. I complained a bit, but the promise of an ice cream and a game of Space Invaders ( 70s fun!) was enough to hurry me along.

The local shop was a 10 minute walk away, and by the time we got there I was regretting not going to the toilet before we left. As I played the game, the urge intensified quickly, and as I couldn't use my hand to hold on, I was doing a bit of a leg March as I played. As soon as I finished I gave myself a quick squeeze. Mum noticed this, and when I got my ice cream and we left, she asked me if I was needing to do a wee. I told her I was, and she was a bit annoyed that I hadn't used the toilet before we left home.

"How badly do you need to go?"

"A lot..."

"Try to hold it. We'll be home soon."

I was walking down the street holding my ice cream with my right hand and my crotch with my left. Suddenly a large wave of desperation hit me, and I stopped, crossed my legs and bent over.

"Are you alright Barry? Have you had an accident?" She asked

I told her no, not yet, but I thought that I would soon.

"Try and hold on baby. We're almost home. If you have an accident no one will see it in those shorts,"

I was wearing black running shorts, high cut and a shiny fabric.

As we waited to cross the busy main road, mum held my hand. I still had the last remnants of my ice cream in my right hand so I couldn't keep a hand on my willy anymore. There was a break in the traffic, and mum went to step out. All of a sudden a shot of pee escaped! My shorts weren't very absorbent, so it just ran down my leg into my sandal. I froze, and mum had to stop. She turned to chastise me for not walking, and saw the wet streak on my leg.

I was starting to get very upset. "I just weed a bit mum!" I cried.

"Hold on till we cross the road" came the reply.

I managed to make it over the road where I threw my ice cream stick into a trash can and grab the front of my shorts. They felt wet and I inspected the damage. There was a shinier spot on the front, but unless you looked really close you couldn't tell. Suddenly another wave hit me. I didn't leak, but I could feel the pee right at the tip of my willy just waiting for an excuse to come out again.

"I can't hold on mummy. I'm gonna wet myself soon!" I was almost crying.

We were on a grass verge that had a bench seat. She told me to quickly go and sit on the grass, which I did. Mum say on the bench, looked at me and said "Ok. Just go in your pants now."

"I don't want to wet myself!"

"Barry. You already have a bit. You're not going to make it home. Just wee on the grass and nobody will see. You can get changed or have a swim when we get home."

I started to leak uncontrollably again. With no option left, I sat with my feet flat on the ground and my knees up. I opened my legs and let go. It was like I was in my own little world now. I was unaware of mum, the passing traffic, or anything else.

I watched the crotch of my shorts glisten as I peed full force into them. The pee actually forced itself out in a small arcing stream, running over my balls, soaking my butt as it hit the ground in front of me, eventually slowing to a trickle before stopping.

"Just scoot over a bit and sit on the dry grass for a minute" she advised me. "Let them dry for a second"

I realised then that mum had been facing me front on and watched me pee myself. The embarresment was incredible.

When I stood up my shorts were dripping from the back, and running down my legs. Mum just took a no nonsense approach, told me not to be upset, no one would notice, and we would be home in 5 minutes. She was right! It didn't show too badly on my black shorts and we got home without seeing anybody we new. We passed a couple of people on the street but they didn't seem to notice.

When we got home mum took the stuff we bought inside while I waited outside. She came out with a towel and my swimmers and I changed outside. She took my soiled clothes in, and I jumped into the pool.

Mum was a bit cross about it. Not the fact that I wet my pants, but the fact that I allowed it to get to that stage by not peeing before we left home. I didn't get punished though. Mum always accepted that occasionally little boys had accidents, and she could sure see that I hadn't done it on purpose!

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Wow Barry what a story! I think if I'm honest I would have wet my pants long before then!  The one thing that puzzles me is why your mum got you changed into your swimming trunks rather than let you go in the pool in your already wet pants and shorts?

 

I too have many memories of this sort of thing happening to me, if you read the posting I wrote on the "early memories" thread you'll know that my mum became quite relaxed about me weeing in my pants, not only in the garden as I described in that story, but as time moved on and she realized that others didn't take any notice anyway I began to be "allowed" to do it more public situations too. 

The one thing she didn't like was me holding myself, fidgeting about and making it obvious that I needed to wee. "Drawing attention to my need" as she called it. Her attitude was that if I needed to go that badly that I needed to do a wee dance or hold myself it was already too late to worry about finding a toilet for me anyway!

 

An example of this openness  was the carnival weekend in our town that had the funfair on a playing field  near the middle of town. Now this playing field had no toilets, the nearest public ones in the town centre. They were only small and not really capable of dealing with the large numbers of people who were attending the fair so there were always big queues of people both male and female waiting to use them.

Mum knew that of course, and on the Saturday evening before we left to go and enjoy the fair she asked me if I'd been to the toilet recently. I said I had, but I don't know if she believed me; she just laughed and said "oh what the heck; you're wearing dark coloured shorts anyway."  We must have been there over an hour before I felt my need to wee slowly increasing and told mum that I needed to go to the toilet.  "Badly?" she asked, and I nodded. "Too badly to join the queue for the toilets?" she asked; and again I nodded and put in a little mini fidget to help make the point. Mum turned me round so that my back was towards her, she snugged my shorts up and at the same time tucked my t-shirt into the waist band. "there" she said "all done, let's go and look at some of the sideshows; Let it happen Michael, I'll get you in the bath when we get home."   

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Great story Mikey! We have some similar experiences. I have wondered myself why my mother changed me that day. I would of happily swam in my wet clothes. Who understands mothers sometimes?

I've got another story similar to your experience at the fair.....

My mother had a close friend, who I always called Auntie Mary. Mary had a daughter, Jenny, who I always called my cousin, even though we weren't blood relatives. Jenny was 2 years younger than me, and still wet her pants, a lot.

Marys husband had walked out on her with no warning, and abandoned his family. I was to young to understand at the time, but this left Jenny a bit messed up, and she used wetting herself as a bit of a coping mechanism. Like me, she was a bed wetter, but she would ask to wear a nappy whenever she could, even as soon as she got home from school. If she didn't have one on, she would just hold on till she had an accident, or just wet herself on purpose. They lived in another town from us, and we didn't see them a lot, but when we did Jenny would usually be wearing a cloth nappy under her dress, even aged 5-6. She rarely wore anything except skirts or dresses, and would just pee in her panties no problem. She was a slightly strange girl.

One Christmas time, they had come to town to visit. There were Christmas Carols by Candlelight, and we were going. At this stage I had just turned 8, and Jenny was 6. Her mother let her wear diapers at home, but wouldn't let her wear when going out. She knew the wetting was mostly deliberate, and while she let her get away with it as a coping mechanism at home, wouldn't encourage it in public. Jenny didn't wear a nappy to school, and her mother would not encourage it.

We were both made to use the toilet before we left, and we headed to the park. I was wearing red sweatpants and a light sweater, and Jenny had a dress with a cardigan on. She asked to wear a nappy, but her mother said no. I still remember my fascination with hearing them talk openly about wearing a diaper with no apparent hesitation or embarrassment. I know mum and auntie Mary had been discussing ways to stop Jenny's "bad habit."

We arrived at the park and sat up our rugs and picnic stuff. We asked to run of to the playground, and were given permission, so long as we stayed together at the playground and didn't wander around alone. We played there for maybe an hour, when I noticed Jenny getting a bit fidgety.

"Do you need the potty?" I asked.

"Yeah. A bit. I'll be ok though."

"Your mum said to go to the toilet and not have an accident" I reminded her," let's find them."

We returned to our parents and Jenny told her mum she needed a wee. Her mother asked if she had gone already, and Jenny said no. Her mum was pleased, took her hand and off they went. My mother asked me if I wanted to go as well, but I said no. I wanted to watch the bands play and drink some more lemonade, which I did.

They were gone awhile, and when they returned the first thing I noticed was Jenny was barefoot. Her mother was carrying her socks and shoes. Mary sat back down and declared "We nearly made it." She then held up wet pair of white panties.

Apparently they had been waiting in line, and nearly got to the front when Jenny wet her pants, soaking her knickers,socks and shoes. Auntie Mary pulled a dry pair of panties out of her bag and held them open for Jenny to step into, which she did with no apparent embarresment whatsoever. As usual I was transfixed by the whole incident. I just loved seeing or hearing about wetting accidents.

We watched the show for a while and I drank a heap of lemonade. I needed a wee now, and told my mother who said she would take me. Just then, an announcement went up on the speakers. Santa Claus had arrived and would be on stage next! We had to stay for the finale!

As we watched Santa singing, my urgency increased ten-fold. I was sitting on the blanket holding myself. The lemonade I had been guzzling all evening needed to come out. Now.

When Santa finished, the show was over. Mum said she would take me to the loo before we left. We looked towards the toilets, and the lines were HUGE. Every family there was taking their kids to the toilet before they left.

I stood there holding myself and told mum "I don't think I can hold on mum. I really need a wee NOW!"

Auntie Mary took charge. She made me sit on the ground and took my shoes off. She put the blanket over my lap and told me to take my sweatpants off underneath, but leave my undies on, which I did.

"Ahh. This old trick Mary?" My mother laughed.

"You know it works!" Mary replied.

I sat under the blanket wearing just my undies and socks, and auntie Mary said ok Barry, you can do a wee now. I really didn't want to. There were scores of people all around us packing up. The lights were on, and everybody was visible.

"I don't want to do this mummy," I pleaded.

"Don't worry sweetie. When you've finished we'll take your knickers off and put your pants back on".

Then Jenny piped up "I've got to go again. Can I wee in my pants again please?"

Her mother just sighed and said "I supposes so. Better than in the car I guess,"

Jenny wasted no time. She just stood on the grass and let go. She didn't even look down. Just kept looking around her at all the other people as she let the pee run down both legs with a small smile on her face.

That was too much to bear. Before she had finished I started. I sat there frozen, holding the blanket off my lap as I peed full force into my Spider-Man undies. I just sat there with a scared look as I finished. Underneath Jenny was a large wet patch of dirt.

When I finished, mum stood me up leaving the blanket around my waist like a towel. She moved me off the wet spot of grass, and told me to take my undies off. I slid them down and stepped out of them. Mum used the blanket to quickly dry my legs and butt, then held my pants open for me to step into, which I did, only dropping the blanket at the last second. Mary reached under Jenny's dress, and pulled her wet blue panties off. She put them in the plastic bag with her soaked white panties and socks from her earlier accident. She placed my wet undies in the same bag. I didn't put my shoes back on, just left my socks on as we left the park and headed to the car, both of us kids now going "commando."

Our parents just laughed about the whole thing!

The byline to this was the following day at school. A girl in my class approached me and said "I saw you at the park last night. I waved at you right in front of you but you didn't see me. You had a rug around you and was putting pants on. Did you wet yourself or something?"

"Don't be silly," I said, "I was cold and getting changed before we left."

"I saw you take your undies off." She informed me.

"She then whispered to me "It's ok. I had an accident there too. The lines were so long to the toilets!"

I denied it again, and the subject was dropped.

That was at least 3 kids who wet their pants in a crowd containing hundreds of us. I wonder how many more there that it happened too?

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Thanks for the reply to my posting Barry.

I have to say yet again how lucky we both were to have such understanding mothers!  Not only did I have  my "swamping" fun in my exploring clothes, but  wet pants (especially if I was wearing shorts!) came to be accepted more and more. I often ask myself the question "what if I'd been punished for wetting myself? Would I have stopped doing it? would the punishment meant that I'd have begun to do it in secret? I don't know the answers to those questions, but what I do know is that even from the age of eight wetting myself and being wet was an important part of who I was, and now at only a few months off the age of sixty wetting is still as important to me now as it was back then.

 

I'm married with three grown up children. None of my children have shown the slightest interest in wetting and when they were younger I never foisted my thoughts and feelings onto them; if they needed to wee I'd always take them to the toilet, or  find somewhere quiet where they could go and I'm sure that this was the right and responsible approach. So why did I develop such strong feelings about wetting myself in the first place? at the age of eight it certainly wasn't in any way sexual, thrilling yes, but not sexual .....

There again  why do people develop different fetishes? even within this community there are many different  branches; diaper lovers, jeans wetter's and those that get a thrill out of showing off what they've done in videos and photographs that are posted in various places on the board!

 

Sorry everyone if this seems a bit deep, but I really needed to get these thoughts and feeling off my chest....

 

More stories about my early days to follow...

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The OP story in this topic is amazing. This is a dream i had always wanted, I never had accidents in front of my parents and always made it on time to the bathroom. My parents were very good at making sure we always went to the bathroom when we were at a gas station of rest stop. I am also pretty sure my parents would have never told us to pee on purpose. I know I will with my kids though, no need to be in pain, everything can be cleaned. 

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I have to agree with you Evildog, I know just  how lucky I was to have such an understanding mother, and I do know there's plenty of mothers out there that would never have understood! Had any of my children shown any interest in the subject they would have been fully supported  in that by both my wife and myself.

As you rightly say a pair of wet pants or panties is not the end of the world.

 

Again as you say OP'S story is amazing and in that situation I too would have been allowed to enjoy what was going on around me without having to worry about needing the toilet, indeed that happened to me many times over the years at parades and funfairs. My mother hated those awful, smelly portaloo's that were placed close to fun fairs with a passion, and made it abundantly clear that she would rather I did it in my pants than queue up to use one of those!

 

Needless to say, I rarely walked home from the travelling funfair that came to our town twice a year wearing dry pants and shorts..... 

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I spoke in my last posting about wetting at the funfair, so with this posting I thought I'd tell you all about one of those (for me anyway!) memorable events.

As I've said before solo wetting was always my thing, but in the description below is the one and only time I ever wet with anyone else. Enjoy..... 

 

I remember it was a Saturday and mum and dad had promised me a trip to the travelling funfair that evening after dad arrived home from work. At the age of nine I was excited of course, like all boys of my age I enjoyed the bright lights, the noise and the hustle and bustle.  I'd been wearing a pair of light blue shorts all day, but not long before dad was due to come home mum suggested that I change those for a pair of my navy blue corduroy ones and added "we'll probably be at the fair for at least a couple of hours".....  I suppose it must have been about six thirty before we arrived at the fairground and almost immediately dad met up with a couple of his friends from work and the three of them headed off towards the beer tent (with mums permission of course LOL) leaving mum and me on our own. We'd been on several rides and I'd met up with several of my friends from school, and riding together we were having a high old time while our parents (mainly mothers!) sat around on benches keeping an eye on us.

 

It was about seven thirty when I first began to feel the need to go to the toilet, but as I often did back then I put my need to the back of my mind, until climbing off one of the rides one of my school friends, a boy called Dennis announced that he needed to go for a pee and said to me "come on Mikey, I'd better go and tell my mum."

the others headed straight off towards another ride while Dennis and I walked back to the group of mums. by the time we got to them it was clear that Dennis's  need had grown quite a bit, (as had mine!)  and our respective mums started walking with us over towards the portable toilets. Being a Saturday night the queue's were huge and Dennis's mum began to look a little worried as we slowly inched forward. not far ahead of us I saw a girl  fidgeting about and holding herself through her dress, until she began to cry and wet herself at the same time. Dennis's mum looked at mine and said "this isn't good is it? they never have enough toilets at places like this."  mum agreed, but before she could say anything else Dennis said "I don't know if I can wait much longer mum, I really need to go badly."  Dennis's mum looked at mine with a "what do we do now" expression on her face, mum turned to me and said "how are you doing Michael, can you wait until we get to the front of the queue?" I desperately wanted to see what would happen with Dennis so I just shook my head.  mum looked at both Dennis and me before she said "at least they're both only wearing shorts."

That really surprised me I hadn't expected my mum to say anything like that so publically.   

Dennis's mum seemed surprised too and asked my mum what she meant.

"Well they're both never going to hold on until we get to the front of the queue are they; and we both live quite a way from this field. as I see it we have three choices, the first is to hope that the boys hang on long enough to get to the front of the queue. The second is to cut short our visit to the fair and try to get them to the nearest of our houses." Mum didn't get to say anything more as despite our need, both Dennis and I protested at that!

 

"Well then" she said "that just leaves the third alternative."

 

I could guess what that was and despite (or perhaps because of) my need to wee I began to feel  quite excited, but Dennis and his mum both looked puzzled.

 

Mum said "well the third and perhaps simplest alternative is that we leave this queue, take the boys back to the funfair and let nature take its course while they're having fun. as I said earlier they're both only wearing shorts aren't they?"

I remember being totally gobsmacked; mum had let me wet in this sort of situation before of course due to her hatred of those portaloo's  but never in my wildest dreams did I think she'd say something like this to another mum! 

 

Dennis's mum cottoned on almost straight away;  "do  you mean what I think you mean.....  We should just let them"....

Mum said "why not? it's obvious they're not going to be able to wait until we get to the front of this huge queue and our homes are both too far away for them to make it there as well. They're going to get wet one way or the other so why prolong the agony for them?"

Dennis's mum still looked doubtful and said to Dennis  "what do you want to do? Do you want to try to get home?"

Dennis looked at me before he said "I'd rather stay at the fair mum." Dennis's mum shrugged her shoulders; "ok then that's what we'll do. come on then let's get back to the fair." 

 

To cut a long story short, Dennis and I both walked home later wearing wet shorts, but neither of us ever mentioned again what had happened that evening... 

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