Posted by new on June 10, 2001 at 19:43
I have never posted before, but a recent experience made me feel like I should share.
Yesterday was the first sunny day we’d had in a long time so I went outside determined that I wouldn’t stop weeding until the garden in front of our house was finished. As I worked, I drank a lot of water to keep hydrated while pulling weeds. After a few hours, all this water took its toll. I was really starting to feel the need, but didn’t want to go inside until I was done, confident I could hold it. Over the next 20 minutes, my need turned to desperation and instead of carefully pulling the roots of all the weeds as I always do, I began to rip the unwanted plants out without paying attention to how much of its roots I got. To make the going faster I also changed from a kneeling to a squatting position which would allow me to have more reach and move on more quickly but increased my desperation. It felt like I could burst at any moment and I stood up to relieve some pressure as I quickly assessed how much more I had to do before I could go inside. After this sunny section around the base of a small tree I could move to my last patch, the now shady part of the garden with bunches of medium sized grasses, which would screen me a little bit from my neighbors.
“I can do this”, I convinced myself “I have been desperate many times before and never peed myself then and I certainly won’t now in front of my neighbors.” With that I resumed my weeding position, and instantly began to doubt my new resolve. I had to go really bad, and as I pulled up a stubborn dandelion I felt a little dribble into my panties. “IT was just a little, it won’t show” I thought. Unfortunately, it was quite a struggle to try and keep any more from coming out and three weeds later, I dribbled again. Another weed, another dribble. My face was locked in the immense concentration it took to keep the dribbles from becoming bigger. I must have squirmed too because I was really having a hard time. I started to worry about whether my neighbors could see the fist sized wet spot on my bright blue shorts.
“Well, they won’t be able to in a second, all I have to do is walk over to that last spot. Then I will have cover as I quickly finish weeding and then I can go inside for relief!” As I was standing up a small squirt sent a trickle of pee down my leg. I tried to casually make it to my next section mortified at the beads of urine on my leg glistening in the sunlight. Hopefully, nobody saw it. As I walked to the last little bit of weeding I once again tried to get the mental strength that would keep me from completely embarrassing myself. “I am not going to pee my pants. I am an adult. It won’t happen. I wont even let myself dribble.”
But as soon as I squatted down to do the last area another squirt made my panties damp half way up my butt. Behind a bunch of grass tried to feel out the damage with one hand and ripped up weeds with the other. Another squirt. “Please stop, I have to finish” I blindly tore up weeds while I watched another squirt fall from the bottom of my shorts to the now wet spot in the dirt. I then put one hand in my crotch to stop the broken streams that I otherwise could not control. The situation was in a way exciting to me. I would have loved every moment had there not been so many people out. When I had stopped dripping enough that nobody would be able to notice, I moved the few exposed feet behind the next clump of grass to tear the second to last patch of weeds. Here after a few squirts, I began to rub myself in hopes of gaining some much-needed control.
With only two weeds to go I felt I was going to be able to finish and still be able to make it to the toilet before I lost all control. But it was not to be. To my horror a slow unstoppable stream began, choppy at first and gained in force. No matter how much holding it wouldn’t stop and because I was on a slight incline, a little stream of pee was making its way around the clump of grass. I knew I couldn’t stay there and let it go all the way down the little hill. The dirt was dry and everyone would notice a stream of pee making its way down the side of the hill and with me squatting behind the clump of grass, the source would be all too apparent. Of course, if I got up and ran to the safety of the garage I would probably leave a trail behind me equally noticeable. I didn’t know which choice was the lesser of the two evils and despite my great efforts of rubbing and holding I still was wetting myself.
It was in that moment of frustration that a mosquito began to dine on my shoulder. I removed my hand from my crotch and slapped it. Big mistake. The absence of pressure made me lose all control. A river began to flow down the hill. I panicked and ran into the garage. Piss spattered my legs. When I got into the garage I let go, but there really wasn’t anything left. All that for a mosquito that I don’t even think I got. It was there and then, in my wet shorts, I had the best orgasm of all my (rather limited) experiences.
Email: rose0520@hotmail.com