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A story I thought I should tell.....


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There can't be anything worse than standing in a queue for making desperation ten times worse. 

Big hugs to you, and reinforces my belief - feelings of the individual come way before any self gratification.  In this instance big hugs and lots of sympathy, but thanks too for sharing with us.

Here's to deliberate and planned wettings - far more enjoyable.

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It happened to me once.  I usually know how long I can get away with holding, but this time I must have drunk too many mugs of tea and misjudged it.   I'd been food shopping and the checkout was taking longer than it should - the customer in front was faffing about and then they had to call a supervisor to verify her age (even though she was about 50, but the checkout operator was younger than 18).  I already had my stuff on the conveyor belt so I was committed to staying there.  By the time I was paying, I had little spurts going into my boxers under my jeans.  I'm sure the young checkout operator must have known what was going on as I was bouncing about and trying to hold it in.   Once done, I grabbed my bags and headed upstairs to the toilets, but was already loosing it on the stairs.  By the time I got into the toilets, the situation was beyond desperate.   I decided on going for a cubicle rather than the urinal.  Got inside, shut the door, hung the bags on the hook at the back of the door and I was already peeing as I tried to undo my fly. The more I fidgeted, the more I couldn't undo, the more I was squirting in my jeans.   I ended up just sitting down and peeing through my jeans as there was already a puddle growing on the floor.  Unfortunately I didn't have a friend there to go and get me more trousers, so I ended up dripping as much as I could, then trying to dry some of it with the heated air hand dryer.   It wasn't successful and I was still soaked.   I had to leave the toilets, one way or another and I had to go somewhere afterwards, so didn't have the opportunity to go home.   So, I went to a clothing shop and looked for a pair of jeans.  The young female assistant came up behind me and asked if I needed any help.   She must have seen that my jeans were soaked, but she didn't say anything.   She helped my find my size and I went to try them on.  They were fine, so I took the labels off and kept the new jeans on.   I folded up my soaked boxers and jeans, with the driest part to the outside and went to the checkout.  I gave the girl the labels to scan and said I was going to keep them on if that was OK.   She said that was fine and she understood.   So she obviously knew exactly what had happened.  

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8 hours ago, Alfresco said:

It happened to me once.  I usually know how long I can get away with holding, but this time I must have drunk too many mugs of tea and misjudged it.   I'd been food shopping and the checkout was taking longer than it should - the customer in front was faffing about and then they had to call a supervisor to verify her age (even though she was about 50, but the checkout operator was younger than 18).  I already had my stuff on the conveyor belt so I was committed to staying there.  By the time I was paying, I had little spurts going into my boxers under my jeans.  I'm sure the young checkout operator must have known what was going on as I was bouncing about and trying to hold it in.   Once done, I grabbed my bags and headed upstairs to the toilets, but was already loosing it on the stairs.  By the time I got into the toilets, the situation was beyond desperate.   I decided on going for a cubicle rather than the urinal.  Got inside, shut the door, hung the bags on the hook at the back of the door and I was already peeing as I tried to undo my fly. The more I fidgeted, the more I couldn't undo, the more I was squirting in my jeans.   I ended up just sitting down and peeing through my jeans as there was already a puddle growing on the floor.  Unfortunately I didn't have a friend there to go and get me more trousers, so I ended up dripping as much as I could, then trying to dry some of it with the heated air hand dryer.   It wasn't successful and I was still soaked.   I had to leave the toilets, one way or another and I had to go somewhere afterwards, so didn't have the opportunity to go home.   So, I went to a clothing shop and looked for a pair of jeans.  The young female assistant came up behind me and asked if I needed any help.   She must have seen that my jeans were soaked, but she didn't say anything.   She helped my find my size and I went to try them on.  They were fine, so I took the labels off and kept the new jeans on.   I folded up my soaked boxers and jeans, with the driest part to the outside and went to the checkout.  I gave the girl the labels to scan and said I was going to keep them on if that was OK.   She said that was fine and she understood.   So she obviously knew exactly what had happened.  

Iam sorry you didn't have a buddy get you a dry pair of pants

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