Sierra's Sea @sierraseax3 - Tumblr Blog

5:45 video of pants wetting/omorashi

If you like my content you are welcome to hit me up $sierraseax3 (I have and may post more videos if there is a good response)

https://www.erome.com/a/IeS28t98

Visit the page to see this album : Pink Pants

5:45 video of pants wetting/omorashi

If you like my content you are welcome to hit me up $sierraseax3 (I have and may post more videos if there is a good response)

https://www.erome.com/a/IeS28t98

Visit the page to see this album : Pink Pants

#omo #omorashi #my videos

sierraseax3

A fictionalized account of this afternoon... the good parts are true... (Working on getting OnlyFans set up so maybe you can watch it too.)

—

As I walked down the street to order lunch from the local sandwich shop I already had to pee. Work had been busy all morning and I hadn’t gotten a chance to get away to the restroom. I was starving though, and that came first.

It was a rare treat to go out for a sandwich, and in celebration I ordered the lunch combo with chips and a fountain beverage. Usually I just drank water, but I filled up the medium cup with Sprite. I sipped as I waited for my sandwich to be created; there were a few people ahead of me in line waiting for their orders. I couldn’t stop drinking the cold, refreshing beverage, feeling the sugary liquid slide down my throat.

The bathroom there was closed, and I didn’t really have to go that badly anyway. I took my sandwich and before I left I stopped back to the soda fountain and refilled my cup. I’m the kind of person who always wants to get their money’s worth! The whole way back I couldn’t think about anything except the delicious meal I was about to eat.

The sandwich was gone in an instant and I sucked down soda to quench my thirst until the cup was empty. I felt overly full and laid back on the bench to give my bloated stomach some room, thinking that the clouds overhead were starting to look like rain. A cool summer breeze blew pleasantly across my face and I spotted a far off lighting strike.

By the time I got back inside an idea had started to form in my mind. The feeling of fullness in my bladder was exciting; surely I could even drink a little water, too. I sat back down at my desk and thought about heading to the restroom, but the prospect of making myself hold it until I got home was too tempting. I got back to work.

By four o’clock I was fidgeting slightly in my seat, occasionally crossing my legs. The urge wasn’t too bad, though. I ran an errand with no need to dance around, though I did stop to pull on the waistband of my pants just a little too relieve the pressure of it digging into my belly. When I looked out the window the rain was coming down. I imagined faucets and buckets and waterfalls, but somehow the rest of the hour passed quickly. The rain had mostly stopped by the time I left the building. Disappointing.

As I drove home I opened my neglected water bottle. It was still mostly full, and I sipped at stop lights. There was a huge traffic jam on the freeway, so I took the back roads hoping I would save time. The curves made me splash a little bit of liquid into my lap, but thankfully it didn’t look like I had wet myself. Yet. I pressed a hand into my crotch.

I finally got home, but there was mail to be gathered and opened, things to be put away, and the usual end of workday chatter with my roommate. I was starting to feel a little desperate, but I took care of all my tasks and flopped down onto the couch.

Big mistake! My full bladder jolted as it made direct contact with the fabric. I crossed my legs and exhaled, catching myself before I could make a mess. I stood up again, figuring I would just have to wrap up my little challenge before I ended up having an accident.

My roommate was in the bathroom, though. I shifted from foot to foot in the hallway, waiting for her to be done. I put a hand to my crotch as if that would force the urine to remain contained. When she finally opened the door I rushed in, reaching down to slide open my zipper.

I looked down at my favorite pink jeans in horror. The zipper was stuck! And they were skin tight, no way was I getting them off without getting the zipper down, not with how distended my bladder was. It pushed against the top of my pants, my usually flat stomach bulging. I looked at myself in the mirror and considered my options. There weren’t many.

For a minute I just danced there, desperately stuffing my fingers between my legs and tugging on the waistband of my jeans, the pressure against my pussy at least feeling distracting, even if it didn’t take away the urge to just let it all go and piss my pants. I fumbled with the zipper over and over, but it wouldn’t budge.

I could feel myself getting wet, but not with piss. The whole experience had been a turn on, but the real danger of wetting myself had ratcheted everything up to eleven. My fingers dug in, putting pressure on my clit as I watched myself squirm and struggle in the mirror. Just a little bit harder, faster, and tighter—I gasped as I surprised even myself, breathing hard as a wash of heat rushed over me and I felt the wave of an orgasm spread from my core.

For a moment I stared in shock; I had never masturbated standing up before! My legs were slightly wobbly in the aftermath, but cumming unfortunately didn’t make the urge to piss any less strident. As my fingers desperately tried to hold in my pee I ground myself back into them, feeling little aftershocks of pleasure radiate out.

Unfortunately, rubbing one out isn’t quite like rubbing a magic lamp. There wasn’t even one wish available to get my zipper unstuck. Resigned to my fate, I kicked off my sandals and stepped carefully into the tub, still clutching myself through my pants. I fidgeted with the zipper some more, but most of my attention was on trying to dam up the inevitable river.

I hopped from foot to foot, squeezing my thighs and wringing my hands. I paused for a second when I thought I felt a trickle escape, but I was still safe. One last time I tried the zipper, and to my shock, it slid down as if it hadn’t spent the last ten minutes making my life hell.

I went to step out of the tub and rush for the toilet, but it was too late. I felt the flood start, almost moaning as the hot piss soaked my pants. I let the flood come, standing frozen for the long seconds of that post-post-orgasmic relief making a racket against the bottom of the bathtub.

By the time I was done my favorite pink pants were almost entirely a different, darker color. As I slowly stripped them off I decided I kind of liked them better that way.