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20 minutes ago, gldenwetgoose said:

Dear Wet Carpet Magazine,

Do two wrongs make a right?  That's my question, although to be honest I don't really care.

I want to tell you about something that happened last week - some of your readers may think I'm a heartless bitch, some may want to give me a high five. 

 

My evening work shift started fairly normally.   I work in a medium level city centre hotel and that night I was in the duty manager slot.  In the early evening that mostly meant checking in arrivals, who were for the most part corporate suits.  Almost always straightforward business expense account stuff, single room occupancy.  One particular guest caught my eye, it was the slightly unusual name to be honest - and after I'd checked him in I realised he's a friend's husband.  He's never met me, but after he'd gone I checked her Facebook account and sure enough that was him.

I wondered why he was staying in a hotel so close to home but didn't think so much of it - until an hour later when I spotted my friend's husband walking across the lobby with a young escort girl on his arm.  We do have a bit of a problem with soliciting and that's one of the reasons we put the single occupancy business clients on the ground floor.  Insider hotel trade secret, that by putting the business solos there, if we see any such undesirable types going down that corridor we know they're not registered hotel guests.  Long story short, I checked my friend's Facebook again and from that, seems she thought he was out of the country.   And here was my friend's husband, in our hotel with a cheap hooker. What a bastard.

I was pretty angry, but what could I do?  I thought about telling her.   I thought about hammering on the door and throwing the tart out.   Then a better idea came to me.

I spent most of my night shift in the back office doing paperwork and sipping black coffee to keep me awake.   Around 1am I saw the girl crossing the lobby on the CCTV monitor and out of the doors back into the world of the night.  The rest of the night was quiet.  Although I was livid at him carrying on like that, I was actually getting quite excited.  Good things come to those who wait.  More coffee, more paperwork and then more coffee.

By morning I was ready to exact my plan and it worked out perfectly to be honest.  I'd deliberately held off going to the bathroom and by the time the check out bustle started I could really feel the weight in my full bladder.  Fortunately the morning reception staff were on the desk. I really couldn't have coped with standing there, as it was my legs were jiggling non-stop and thighs clenched together under my desk.   Finally from the reception desk I heard my friend's husband announce his surname and my colleague process his check out.  I looked at my hotel residency management screen and saw his room status change from occupied to waiting on housekeeping.  Not a moment too soon either.

Without saying a word I quietly slipped from my desk and out into the lobby, trying to walk calmly down the corridor to his vacated room.  After a quick tap on the door I let myself in using my staff keyfob.  In our trade we've seen worse states for rooms to be left in, but all the signs were there.  Two glasses on the bedside tables, one covered in lipstick.  Towels strewn about the floor, bedding all crumpled on both sides.

I didn't have much time to take in the scene - I was absolutely dying for a wee, after all I'd been drinking coffee all night and had held off going to the bathroom for this moment.

I put the latch on the door, I wasn't ready for housekeeping to walk in just yet.  Then I unzipped and lowered my uniform skirt, putting it neatly over the chair and dropping my panties to the floor.  Pulling the bed clothes back I could finally get my release and my revenge.  I sat on the middle of the bed and relaxed.  I felt the sheet flush with warmth under me and heard the gush as my pee flooded out onto the bedding. The feeling was exquisite on so many levels, it was like my stream would never stop, but I forced it to - I wasn't done yet.

Still bare from the waist down I stood on the bed and pushed my hips forward, managing to spray a messy stream leaving a dark stain on the velvet headboard.  Then I sat on the light coloured sofa, again relaxing and not caring as the last of my pee left my body and soaked into the seat cushion.  Finally I dried myself off on one of the white towels and quickly got dressed.


As I got back to reception, the hotel manager had just arrived in to take up the day shift.  We did the normal handover and I may have mentioned that I wasn't sure if room 22 had a 'guest' in.  Literally at that moment housekeeping rang and I heard one side of a conversation which ended with the boss reaching for the Corporate Damage Chargeback Forms before storming off in the direction of that room.

From what I heard later, it seems my friend's husband had some serious explaining to do - charges for dual occupancy, professional sanitisation and rectification of damaged furnishings. And to top it all him charging the hotel stay to his company without even being authorised to stay there.   He won't be trying that one again.

So - is that forgiveable?

 

The anonymous correspondent here is forgiven, from here at least. Anyone who can be that creative in supporting her friend gets a pat on the back from me. I wonder, though, it all worked so perfectly ... has she perhaps done this before? 😉 

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  • 2 weeks later...

Hello again fellow P-VLoggers.

The other week on a short trip out of town to get content for you all to enjoy, something odd struck me. No, I didn't get a surprise dick whip in the face, by two guys... for a THIRD time. I was at a big box warehouse store, cloistered in a hidden back area, behind the "Employee Only" section. I had found a forklift sitting quietly there and decided to clean it up a bit by making it dirtier in the all familiar way. I climbed up in the seat and noticed that a box was still on the lift, which we all know is not protocol (Forklift Certified BABY!). Leaning forward it was a whole palette of watermelon and regular readers can attest, I can "go the distance" and like my watermelon salty. So, I dropped my thong and hosed them down. Stood up to get the ones at the back and then bent at the waist to cool down the seat and controls. I hopped down and reset my dedicates, then it happened. The queer thing that prompted me to write today. I immediately left the scene and went straight to the bathroom. I went into a stall, wiped myself, and then washed my hands. It dawned on me, that I ALWAYS do this. Regardless or where, what, or who I just pissed on, I find a place with clean running water and wash my hands.

So anybody else out there with the same routine?

(Also, I totally went back and got two of the soaked melons... they were still dripping when I paid for them.)

Until next CRIME!

Edited by hentaixt
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1 hour ago, gldenwetgoose said:

Dear Wet Carpet Magazine,

Your readers will probably remember that thing that used to be on the radio, where listeners write in with their confessions and the people in the studio decide to give forgiveness - well this is sort of one of those posts.

It's a thing that happened last month, and to be honest I've only just brought myself to the point of confessing it.  So here I am asking for forgiveness.  Actually what's done is done so it doesn't really matter does it.

It was a Wednesday evening and late night Christmas Shopping night.  I'd finished work and instead of the normal drive home I'd gone into town and parked in the multi-storey for a bit of retail therapy.   First stop had been my favourite fast food diner for a quick wrap.  They do bottomless drink refills there and before I knew it I'd had a couple of large cups of Sprite.  Then a wander around the shops, fairly successfully in what I wanted and finally a wander through the Christmas markets.  I bumped into a couple of friends and we ended up grabbing a hot spicy mulled wine or two - non alcoholic of course as I had to drive home.

Anyway, eventually I realised the time and said my good-byes to head to the car park.  The other thing was, the cold night air and the soft drinks I'd had were really making me want a wee.  There were no toilets in the outdoor market and the shops were beginning to close too.  So I headed to the car park, hoping the journey home would be quick.

Of course nothing is ever simple is it.   Standing in the car park entrance juggling shopping bags and hunting through my purse for the ticket, my bladder was protesting and by the time I'd put the ticket into the machine and followed the on-screen instructions to pay it was screaming in agony.  If anyone saw a blonde lady pee dancing and cursing at the machine that was me.  I didn't want to bother waiting for the lift so I clattered up the stairs and slammed the doors open on the parking level.  Rooting through my handbag as a half-ran half-hobbled I found my keys and pressed the button, hearing the reassuring beep and clunk of my car unlocking.

I grabbed the handle - and nothing.  The door wouldn't open.  A shiver of panic ran through my body, I literally had to clamp a hand between my legs as I fumbled with the keys.  I put the key in the lock itself and turned but still nothing, and the more I tried the more I began to panic, the more I was literally about to wet myself.

"Perfect" I thought to myself and took a deep breath.  I put all the bags down carefully on the floor, then squatted down breathing deeply.  I'm not sure it helped, but it did give me a moment.  After a couple of seconds I put my key back in the lock, carefully jiggling it as a forced it to turn and managed to open the door.   As I did so, that need to empty my desperate bladder came back with a vengeance.   As I reached down to grab all the bags I felt the first hot spurt of wee gush into my knickers, but I quickly managed to clench and regain control.

A few more deep breaths and I put my key into the ignition - and to my horror it wouldn't turn.  That was the final straw, and my floodgates literally burst open.  I felt my entire lady parts and bum flush with warmth that tickled and warmed as it worked its way in every direction.  One the one hand it felt amazing and on the other hand horrifying that I was fully wetting myself.  But these things happen I reasoned.  I waited patiently for my flow to stop, and then opened my belt and top button.  I had a dark wet patch on my satin underwear which no doubt was spread all over too.  It took a moment or two to process, before I reached towards my glove box for the tissues I keep in there.

 

Now - about this confession - as I opened the glove box, to my horror no tissues.  But instead a glasses case, hat, road map... none of which I own.  And even more horrifying was the child seat in the back.

So - if you were in town last month Christmas shopping and someone broke into your car to use it as their personal toilet - I'm so, so sorry.   And I'm sorry for running off and not even leaving a note.   My car, that I'd heard beep and unlock, would you believe was the same model and colour and parked two spaces further down.

So again, I'm so, so sorry. I hope your car dried up ok.

Sally

Absolutely forgiven Sally! Could have happened to anyone. Don't worry about it - I know it's a big deal to confess, but you'll have nothing but sympathy (and not a little encouragement) from readers here 💖

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On 5/5/2023 at 12:57 PM, gldenwetgoose said:

Dear Wet Carpet Magazine,

Your readers will probably remember that thing that used to be on the radio, where listeners write in with their confessions and the people in the studio decide to give forgiveness - well this is sort of one of those posts.

It's a thing that happened last month, and to be honest I've only just brought myself to the point of confessing it.  So here I am asking for forgiveness.  Actually what's done is done so it doesn't really matter does it.

It was a Wednesday evening and late night Christmas Shopping night.  I'd finished work and instead of the normal drive home I'd gone into town and parked in the multi-storey for a bit of retail therapy.   First stop had been my favourite fast food diner for a quick wrap.  They do bottomless drink refills there and before I knew it I'd had a couple of large cups of Sprite.  Then a wander around the shops, fairly successfully in what I wanted and finally a wander through the Christmas markets.  I bumped into a couple of friends and we ended up grabbing a hot spicy mulled wine or two - non alcoholic of course as I had to drive home.

Anyway, eventually I realised the time and said my good-byes to head to the car park.  The other thing was, the cold night air and the soft drinks I'd had were really making me want a wee.  There were no toilets in the outdoor market and the shops were beginning to close too.  So I headed to the car park, hoping the journey home would be quick.

Of course nothing is ever simple is it.   Standing in the car park entrance juggling shopping bags and hunting through my purse for the ticket, my bladder was protesting and by the time I'd put the ticket into the machine and followed the on-screen instructions to pay it was screaming in agony.  If anyone saw a blonde lady pee dancing and cursing at the machine that was me.  I didn't want to bother waiting for the lift so I clattered up the stairs and slammed the doors open on the parking level.  Rooting through my handbag as a half-ran half-hobbled I found my keys and pressed the button, hearing the reassuring beep and clunk of my car unlocking.

I grabbed the handle - and nothing.  The door wouldn't open.  A shiver of panic ran through my body, I literally had to clamp a hand between my legs as I fumbled with the keys.  I put the key in the lock itself and turned but still nothing, and the more I tried the more I began to panic, the more I was literally about to wet myself.

"Perfect" I thought to myself and took a deep breath.  I put all the bags down carefully on the floor, then squatted down breathing deeply.  I'm not sure it helped, but it did give me a moment.  After a couple of seconds I put my key back in the lock, carefully jiggling it as a forced it to turn and managed to open the door.   As I did so, that need to empty my desperate bladder came back with a vengeance.   As I reached down to grab all the bags I felt the first hot spurt of wee gush into my knickers, but I quickly managed to clench and regain control.

A few more deep breaths and I put my key into the ignition - and to my horror it wouldn't turn.  That was the final straw, and my floodgates literally burst open.  I felt my entire lady parts and bum flush with warmth that tickled and warmed as it worked its way in every direction.  One the one hand it felt amazing and on the other hand horrifying that I was fully wetting myself.  But these things happen I reasoned.  I waited patiently for my flow to stop, and then opened my belt and top button.  I had a dark wet patch on my satin underwear which no doubt was spread all over too.  It took a moment or two to process, before I reached towards my glove box for the tissues I keep in there.

 

Now - about this confession - as I opened the glove box, to my horror no tissues.  But instead a glasses case, hat, road map... none of which I own.  And even more horrifying was the child seat in the back.

So - if you were in town last month Christmas shopping and someone broke into your car to use it as their personal toilet - I'm so, so sorry.   And I'm sorry for running off and not even leaving a note.   My car, that I'd heard beep and unlock, would you believe was the same model and colour and parked two spaces further down.

So again, I'm so, so sorry. I hope your car dried up ok.

Sally

All is forgiven Sally! Thank you for sharing.

(ps - Awesome writing Goose!)

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  • 3 weeks later...
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On 6/11/2023 at 6:36 PM, hentaixt said:

Hey there. So, I actually work as a coat check girl in a strip club. That might sound odd, but we have been in operation for over 80 years and they are leaning on "tradition." Anyway, I have short story to tell.
The other day we had a group of fellows come in, we get lots of high-end business men in suit jackets, which means I do serve a purpose other than eye-candy at the entrance. To give you an idea, I'm required to be topless, and must be wearing a thong. Otherwise, I have complete freedom. I often put on a cup-less bra or garters. They even allow me crotchless thongs once a month or when we have an event. As I was saying though, we had a couple, three guys come in the other day. The first one hands me his jacket. As I walked away, I heard "I see why she's up here, nothing to look at up there." Now, I am a petite girl and my breasts are small to modest. That's still no reason to be rude. I literally chucked the jacket on the floor so I knew which it was and grabbed the number off the hanger as I tossed it on top. I returned and handed over the number politely.
"Don't mind him, just having a bad day, that's why we came here."
"It's fine." I said with a smile, "There are plenty of men that like my boobs just fine. I mean you're looking, right?"
We both chuckled as I carried his coat back to hang up. As I straightened it, I stuck a "Free Lap Dance" card in the pocket for him. I returned again and spoke to the last gentleman. "I want to apologize too. That was uncalled for and not right. Can I get you a drink?"
"No alcohol on the clock, but tell Suzie to bring me a bottle of water. I know how to deal with THAT TYPE."
Suzie is one of our bustiest servers. She sports a 34KK bra, so you know what I mean. She will go topless, but it is at a HEAVY cost... $750 for HALF an HOUR. Sure enough, when she brought me my bottle, she was without her bra. "Hey [Coat Check], the average looking blond guys told me to bring you a water on his tab."
"Thanks Suzie. I'm going to slip my number in his coat pocket for being so nice. Let me guess, the boisterous asshole paid for your tits?"
{Sarcastically} "How'd Y'know?"
"Well, you know what I'm doing with this as always." I swept the water off the counter with a swing of my arm. "Thanks."
So, I popped the lid and started draining the bottle. We have fancy, expensive, designer water, but some of it is really good. The carbonated stuff is terrible, but it floods through my system like nothing flat (pun intended). Most the time I prefer distilled for the clean "flavor." With half the bottle and fifteen minutes down, it was time to do what was needed. I made sure there were no guests and bounced off back to the jacket on the floor. You can kind of guess what comes next, after all this is a thread for peeing. While I was dropping the thong to my ankles, I grabbed one of the sleeves, when I stood back up, I made sure it was nice and open, then cupped it over my bushless slit. It was completely natural to me and I peed right down the opening without hesitation. I could feel my heavy stream impact around the bicep area and rush down the remaining distance to the silk lining. I went for a good ten seconds adjusting the cuff so I got the interior good and wet. I dropped it and squatted down still in full release and sprayed the exterior while I got the other sleeve. Standing back up, it went right over my flow again until I finished about fifteen seconds later. I wiped using the collar and hung it on the hanger and rack as it dripped urine on the carpet.  Nothing too eventful after that. I did finish the bottle of water, but the jacket was not going to take anymore piss, so I just let go in the back over the old furnace vent. It went down to the basement where the original fire burner was located, but it was dangerous and inefficient, so abandoned decades ago. It was a fun place to release as I got to hear it patter and splash as it sloshed down the duct work. After two hours the guys came back for their coats. The jerk was first, but clearly well past drunk. The blond guy found his tag for him and handed it over to me with his own. I collected both and then returned for the other. As I gave it back, lightly folded, I told them very clearly, "Be sure to check your pockets, especially you two. Also remember-" Here I pointed at the sign next to the window that reads:

The Establishment is not liable for damage or loss of items from articles while stored in Check.

"You may find that important for your 'friend' there later." They thanked me and left.
Suzie came over putting her bra back on saying she was topless for more than three fourths the time she served them. "That guy may have been a complete douche-bag, but I got enough money for a nice vacation now. I think I am going to go to one of the nudist friendly countries this time."
"I heard about a couple of tiny island nations where they let you go naked all the time and encourage you to pee everywhere too. What do you think?"
"OH! That sounds like heaven~"

I could live on an island like that. 😉 Thanks for the story!

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