I’m in a rural village, and I’m on a covert mission to wet myself in public. I’m wearing a striped t-shirt, tight leggings and a cute pair of grey pumps. I find an old fashioned wooden bus stop and can’t resist sitting down on the bench inside and letting my imagination run wild. There is a no smoking sign on the wall, but it doesn’t say anything about wetting! Should I go here? It’s five minutes until the next bus, so I should just have time! After a quick glance around to check if the coast is clear, I empty my bladder, the warm stream squirting through my leggings and onto the seat. The...

I’m in a rural village, and I’m on a covert mission to wet myself in public. I’m wearing a striped t-shirt, tight leggings and a cute pair of grey pumps. I find an old fashioned wooden bus stop and can’t resist sitting down on the bench inside and letting my imagination run wild. There is a no smoking sign on the wall, but it doesn’t say anything about wetting! Should I go here? It’s five minutes until the next bus, so I should just have time! After a quick glance around to check if the coast is clear, I empty my bladder, the warm stream squirting through my leggings and onto the seat. The wooden structure of the bus stop means that the release sounds even louder too. After I’m finished and am walking past the houses, a thought does occur to me...will anyone on their way to catch a bus get confused? After all, the weather is dry, so why on earth is the bench soaking wet! ;)