Wetting Pants Stories Novels & Stories

75” dick where it had to be. However, today I was swimming so I chucked off my tighty whities and looked at myself in the mirror like all the other characters in these sex stories on this site, they just stand there, admire themselves, and shake their ass. I just glanced in the mirror, that’s all. I gazed at my skinny white frame, thin body, hairless chest, hairy armpits and dick, my brown eyes, long eyelashes, and short hair.

My sweater felt too warm. My jeans felt too tight. Between my legs I was soaked in a way I had never been from words alone. I could feel the wetness coating my panties and the soft skin of my inner thighs. Every time I shifted I felt it slide. I pulled the sweater over my head and dropped it on the floor. My bra followed. The cool air of the room hit my bare breasts and my nipples tightened instantly. They were already sensitive. I cupped them for a second and felt how hard the peaks were under my palms. Then I stood and pushed my jeans and panties down together. When the fabric left my skin a thin string of wetness clung to the cotton before it broke.

he was being. He better not turn around or I’ll kick him so hard his future six-pack won’t survive… “Are you done yet?” he asked without looking. “No. Shut up.” “Okay, okay. Just making sure you're not frozen like a statue back there. I swear you're more dramatic than my aunt's pet peacock,” he muttered. I rolled my eyes again and struggled with my soaked pants. Ugh, this is harder than I thought. Wet clothes are the enemy. Just as I was pulling my shirt over my head— I heard a noise.

Instead I let my fingertips drift, slow and lazy, tracing the sensitive outer lips, feeling how puffy and wet everything still was. The chill on my skin finally got me up. I walked to the shower, stripped off my clothes, and let hot water run over me. It washed away the wetness, soothing my body as steam filled the room. I dried off, put on a sleep shirt, and got into bed already drifting off to sleep. Noah's POV: “We’ll be the first company to launch such an advanced technology this early!” the presenter declared, arms spread like he’d just invented gravity. I leaned back in the leather chair, arms crossed, and let out a slow breath. “Yet you haven’t gotten a patent.”

Andy nodded, pouting. "As you can remember, someone was chasing me then. And I jumped from the outside to your backyard. And I saw that there were clothes hanging, and at that time I had a wound on my arm so I planned to take a cloth to aid my wound, BUT! I got something else. And that is your... your panty with Monday written on it. Come to think of it, Baby, you haven't shown me the Tuesday to Sunday panties yet," Andy buried her face in Clein's chest and slapped him in embarrassment. In the morning…

Well there was only two weeks left for Sam to enjoy her and he was doing that as much as he could. Not that he didn't actually enjoy the class itself as he had indeed been writing for the last couple of years. The only problem was what he was writing was dirty naughty stories, or as most web sites called it; erotic stories. Sam was pretty good at it and at the urging of his then girlfriend Stacey, had submitted some of his books to an eeotic story site named Erotic dom where under the pen name Dirtyfantasies, and had gotten some good reviews.

He said as he walked out of the room. I laid the clothes, towels, and flashlight on the bed and started to try and remove the soaked clothes off my body. I found myself doing a wiggle dance to get my jeans off. The wet material was stuck to my cold damp skin and made it almost impossible to pull off. Finally, after removing my jeans and sweater I stood in my underwear and panties. I realized that they too were soaked and removed them. Unfortunately, I was going to have to go commando under the sweats that Hunter had handed me.

Daddy Satiates the Horny Housewife & Her Twins Kristen was a shy and quiet girl with one naughty imagination. And she was having so much fun writing dirty stories in the new diary that she found at the Dollar Store. She penned her wild imagination about what the people in her life actually did when she wasn't around. Her first story involved her parents, imagining that her mother made p**n and didn't shoot indie films. But now she wanted to write a story solely about her dad.

What I found was a world of explicit, detailed stories about aunts and nephews. Stories of seduction, of secret affairs, of dominant young men and submissive older women. I read one, then another. My face grew hot, my breathing shallow. Without even consciously deciding to, my hand slipped under the waistband of my linen trousers, my fingertips finding my clit, already sensitive from last night. The stories were graphic, filthy, and utterly compelling. They painted pictures of aunts who were initially reluctant but secretly hungry, who were awakened by their nephew's bold desire. They talked about submission, about being called names, about the thrill of the forbidden.

I whispered under my breath, grabbing the counter for balance. I wiped myself with shaking hands, but it was useless. I was still wet. Still leaking. My inner thighs were glossy. My scent filled the room like heat. Damon. His name pulsed through my chest again. I bent quickly, grabbed the ruined panties from the floor, stared at the soaked fabric for a second, then shoved them into the trash like they were evidence. Another knock. Louder this time. “You dead in there or just drowning in your own cum?” one of the girls laughed from outside.