======== Newsgroups: alt.sex.fetish.watersports Subject: REPOST: Story: Early Birds part 1 From: an58617@anon.penet.fi (Tinker.) Date: Fri, 28 Jul 1995 12:07:21 UTC Early Birds part 1 By Tinker, November 1994 I loved to play outside on sunny days. Together with my girlfriends, I would sit down in the grass of the playground and pick daisies, or caress a cute little dog that passed by, or spend half an hour on the swing. The playground was located in the middle of a quiet area of our town, surrounded by houses, and since there was low traffic our parents usually let us play alone or with little surveillance. The worst that could happen was one of us falling off the swing, and that was considered inevitable anyway, so a constant lookout wouldn't help. Today there was no surveillance at all, and even in the early morning it promised to become a shiny day, with almost no wind and a nice sun that was neither too hot nor too cold. I and most of my friends wore summer clothes, and living in a rather traditional part of the country, this could only mean pretty dresses. Not that I hated a dress; but I sometimes felt that a dress was a bit less convenient to play in than trousers. You have to be so careful with a dress. It stains easily, you cannot play jungle and like a boy storm into the bushes wearing a dress, and of course you have to constantly be alert to not showing your underwear. Given that we all wore fairly short dresses, like most children did, this was not an easy feat, and to be honest, when we were with girls only, we never really made a big thing about it. At about half past ten, we were busy doing nothing on the grass, and did what all little girls do while doing nothing on the grass. Sylvia, a girl that had moved into our neighbourhood recently but had quickly fitted in with the rest of us, carefully piled the handful of daisies that she had collected and said to me that she would leave for a moment to have a pee. Most of us would go home to pee, since it was often less than fifty metres away. But for some of us, going home meant a ten minutes walk, and Sylvia was one of those unfortunate girls. They had quickly discovered that when there was no lookout, and no boys around to laugh at them, they could gain much time by walking to the side of the grass, hide beside some bushes, and squat and pee there. This was completely normal for all of us, and I was not in any way surprised to see Sylvia heading for that part of the lawn. Looking around for peekers, Sylvia reached up her dress to her panties and I expected her to pull them down and squat. To my amazement, she did not take off her underwear, but instead pulled it up tightly and then dropped her dress again. She proceeded by squatting like normal, with her knees in our direction, and since the distance between us was less than five metres, I could clearly see her pastel pink flowered panties between her legs. A bit puzzled I kept looking at her. Sylvia noted this and asked: "What are you looking at? Is something wrong?" "Well er... sorry that I can see it, but you're still wearing your panties." Sylvia apparently did not understand me. "Huh? What? Does it matter then?" and she looked down herself. I followed her eyes and saw that a little dark spot popped up between her legs. The spot quickly grew and then a small line of liquid started to pour out of her panties. Quite interested Sylvia looked at the phenomenon and brushed her hair out of her face. I rose to my feet and yelled: "Look out, you're wetting your panties!" Sylvia looked up. "What? Yes, I know. I am doing it myself, you see." A bit shy, she arranged her dress somewhat differently around her thighs. Her pink panties now were completely dark between her legs. She still continued to wee as if nothing special was happening. I stuttered: "But, but, you're not doing it on purpose, do you?" Sylvia now looked really amazed: "Of course I do. What did you think? That I could not yet hold my pee? Silly girl! I am just weeing through my panties. It's nothing." "But this isn't er... you know... you shouldn't! Does your mother allow this?" "My mother doesn't even know. Why should she care anyway? It'll dry even before I get home." She looked down again to her wet underwear. With a last press, she pushed a complete wave into her panties. I heard the hissing. While she still squatted and dripped out, Sylvia continued: "As long as I keep my dress dry, nobody will notice." Apparently she now was finished. She squeezed her thighs firmly together for a moment and then rose to her feet. "Look, my dress is completely unstained." She twirled around. "It's only my panties." Sylvia hiked up her dress and showed her panties to me. There were soaked until halfway her buttocks. "Doing it this way is much easier than taking them off, and you can better hide that you do a pee as well. Besides, weeing through your panties is fun, and exciting also." I looked down to my own dress and imagined having pissed my pants. "Yech, I don't even want to *think* of it." Sylvia shrugged and dropped her dress. "It's just that you did never try it. If you do, you'll see that it is nothing. And it saves me a lot of walking back and forth between here and my home." That said, she joined the circle of girls, of which a few had noticed her bold action. Soon we all started to question Sylvia about it. She seemed not held back at all to tell us everything we asked for. "Doesn't it feel funny to wee through your panties?" "Not really. It is just about the same as when I've taken them off. A bit warmer, and you feel it go down your bum, but that's it." "When did you do it this way for the first time?" "Oh, I don't know. I've been doing it this way for about as long as I can remember. Probably since I left diapers. And I don't do it *all* the time, of course." "Do you dare to do this also when you're wearing trousers?" "Of course not! That would be far too much of a giveaway, wouldn't it?" One of the girls, Kelly, seemed a bit more interested than the others and me. She constantly looked between Sylvia's legs and finally asked: "Sylvia, how long does it take for your panties to dry?" Sylvia looked up to the sun and estimated about two hours. Kelly nodded. "That's fast enough. I need to pee as well. Do you think I could try it your way? It would indeed save me a long walk, and I always hated to take off my panties outside a bathroom." A rumour went among the girls, varying from "But it is so dirty" to "Yeah, let's see something, Kel." Sylvia shrugged. "Of course you can try. But I told you, it's nothing. It's just warm and wet, that's all." Kelly, who sat down on her bum, pulled her dress away under her and pulled up her knees, so that she could look between her legs to her panties. With her hands around her ankles, she found her balance and looked at Sylvia for a last confirmation. Of course, Sylvia was now as interested as anyone else in the group. Even the girl that found it dirty couldn't keep her eyes away from Kelly's blue panties. Everyone was dead silent and waited for the first tell-tale sign as Kelly started to push. After a few moments, Kelly bit her lip and a small stain started to grow quickly in her crotch. Because Kelly sat with her bum onto the ground and did not squat and hover like Sylvia, the dark spot appeared a bit higher in her panties, and so it could run down further to stain even more. Nobody said a word as Kelly continued to wet herself, until Sylvia asked her: "And how does it feel? Nothing special, uh?" "Hmmm... you're right, it feels warm and wet, but I thought that it would be much er... dirtier?" Sylvia giggled. "I told you, it isn't dirty at all. It is just wet. Nothing more." Kelly happily agreed and looking down again, she continued to wee through her panties. I didn't take much longer, however, and soon she could lower her knees again and carefully spread out her dress around her. She sat in a soaked piece of lawn, but of course did not really feel this as long as her wet panties called for attention. Seeing a girl peeing obviously waked up slumbering needs in other girls, because two of them went off to the bushes to go themselves--in the normal way. Sylvia's and Kelly's expositions however had lowered everybody's reluctance to share normally private activities, and the girls had some fun trying to pee a deep hole in the ground, or such. I couldn't see it very well and did not feel like going closer. "So, who's next?" I asked to the remaining girls. Giggle. Brenda raised her finger. "Can you wet your panties while standing?" "I don't know," Sylvia answered. "Never tried. Should be possible though." Brenda rose to her feet and announced that she would try it. She kicked off her flip-flops, and walked towards the middle of our semi-circle. Arrived there, she turned around so she faced me, and stood still for a few seconds. Smiling, she looked around the circle and saw us all gazing at her in admiration. After some more seconds, I asked her if she wasn't afraid of staining her dress and I got back an even more mysterious smile. Brenda still had not moved since she arrived at the spot where she stood now, and Kelly finally got the idea of sneaking up behind her and suddenly hiking up Brenda's dress. It revealed that Brenda had been wetting herself for quite a time already, as her panties were completely soaked from halfway her waist down to her crotch. Now we knew what had been going on under her dress, we also saw the little stream meandering down her left leg. "That's unfair!", Kelly called. "We didn't see a thing! Wetting yourself under your dress like that is no fun. It is far too secret." "That might be," I added, "but nobody of us saw what happened. Gosh, Brenda, it was brave to just start weeing through your panties with your dress down! I wouldn't have dared it." Brenda stroked her dress down again and just continued smiling and peeing. I felt strange in my belly and carefully stroked my own dress. If Brenda could wee with her dress on, and nobody could see anything, especially no stains on her dress, I could probably do the same. I toyed with the hem of my dress and frowned. Wetting myself was quite something, of course, and doing it standing up with all my clothes on would have been extra bold. But of course extra exciting as well. A girl a few years younger than me now announced it was her turn and got into squatting position. Her red panties flashed to us from under her white cheerleader-type skirt. Swiftly and decisively she pushed her water through her underwear and with a satisfied smile sat back on the grass. However brave, this wasn't really an Achievement, of course. I had to do better. The last girl before me to go was called Daphne and I had high hopes for her show, because she was bolder than the rest of us put together. On top of that, she wore what she mostly wore when out playing: a very short brown leather dress, more a tunic, that reached down to just below her panties. It was clear that this dress would endure much more liquid before staining than our light cloth summer dresses. Daphne got up and walked towards the swing. The rest of us followed her, a bit uncertain with all those wet panties between their legs, but quickly getting used to it. While Daphne started to swing lightly back and forth, keeping her knees tightly together to keep her panties as hidden as possible, she started to piss in her pants without further ado. Because she sat down on her leather, and therefore waterproof dress, and because her weight was unevenly distributed on the swing so that her bum was a bit lower than her knees, Daphne quickly cried out: "Oh no, it won't go away! And I can't stop!" Instead of hopping off the swing and letting it fall down between her legs, she instinctively pulled up her knees even higher. Tilted backwards, she hung helplessly in the swing while still peeing in her panties. Soon the gentle rocking stopped and I could go to her to try to help. I approached her from the front, and of course first looked to her panties that should have been clearly visible because the poor girl had spread her knees widely. Indeed I could see her green triangle, but barely, since a big puddle welled up in her dress and given her awkward position it reached well up her panties without flowing over and falling onto the ground. Daphne now practically cried, and I tried to help her. "Don't be so afraid, Daphne. Just pull yourself up on the ropes and let it flow out. You're not wetter than after a dive in the swimming pool, and your dress will hide it all." She shook her head and tightly grasped the ropes, indicating that she would rather be left alone than helped. "Come on. Just be a big girl. Shall I push you up?" I did not even wait for her answer and started to lift her up under her arms, so that she tilted forward and her pooled water would flow out the pouch formed by her dress. Daphne protested slightly, but couldn't do anything about the situation and soon a big gush of pee splashed into the sand under the swing. "So, that wasn't too hard, was it? Now come off that swing so that I can try something myself." Daphne still shook her head. She started to blush and pressed her thighs firmly together, as if she needed to pee badly. "Come on Daphne, get off the swing! If you still need to pee, just do it in your pants, they are wet anyway." A tear appeared in Daphne's left eye and now I realised that there was something wrong. "What is it, Daphne? Are you very ashamed of what you did?" Finally she could speak a few words. I could barely hear them, but the essence of what she said was that it had not been a pee alone that made it out into her panties. And she was afraid of doing even more if she left the swing. I swallowed. This indeed was a problem. Wet panties was one thing, but if she indeed was going to mess in them, she wouldn't get away with it so easily. I looked around me for a possible solution while Daphne got her act together on the swing and sought a more comfortable position. The other girls still were giggling and pointing to the puddle on the ground, and had not understood the real problem. Hum. How could Daphne retain her dignity while in such great need? My eye fell onto the small fountain on the other side of the playground. It had a little basin and running water. I pointed Daphne towards it and told her: "If you can make it to the fountain, you can rinse your underwear and have only wet panties. That would be no problem at all with your dress." She nodded. "But I will not make it, I'm sure. I am going to mess in my pants. There's no way to avoid that. As soon as I leave the swing, it will come." I looked around again. Nobody in sight, only the girls. "Well, just be brave and come off the swing. We'll see what happens. In the worst case, you have to go to the bushes first to throw it away and then go to the fountain to rinse. We'll cover you." Daphne sighed and agreed. "I'll try to run to the bushes as fast as I can. Maybe I can reach them in time," she said without much hope. "If not, well... I'll do it in my panties." Then she hopped off the swing and did two steps. "Oh no, I can't hold it," she immediately cried, and with both her hands firmly on her buttocks she staggered on a bit. But it was no use. Still holding her buttocks, Daphne stooped down a little with her legs somewhat apart. Her very short dress rode up and revealed her already soaked green panties from behind. She took a deep breath, let go of her buttocks and supported herself with her hands on her knees. We all looked to the green arc that winked at us from under her dress. Soon, a bulge appeared in her panties and pushed them outward. That was all. After a moment, some drops started to fall down between her legs as well as she wetted herself for the second time, and then she straightened her back and looked over her shoulder to me. "Now that was it. Can you see it?" I had to admit that her panties now peeked out under her dress a bit, however not showing the reason for this. In fact, because they were completely soaked, it wasn't even clear that she had wet them. You could assume that she had outgrown her dress a bit, but it would be completely inconspicuous to walk in that dress now. Daphne obviously was pleased with this, as she did not immediately head for the bushes. "That can wait. I won't ever do this again, so I might as well see how it feels." She pranced around a bit and was not too unhappy. "It is warm, wet and soft. And heavy!" Then we all headed first for the bushes, where Daphne dropped her load safely away from the grass border and fumbled around with some dry leaves, and then we went for the fountain. Daphne quickly slid down her panties and rinsed them in the basin, without squeezing them out afterwards. With a satisfied smile she pulled up her soaking wet panties and let them wetly snap into place. Her leather dress really came in handy! Now it was my turn. I remembered how I looked down to my own dress while Sylvia first wet herself, and thought that it had to be dirty. And if Daphne had not ran into trouble, I would still have thought that wetting yourself was a bit dirty, but now I had changed my mind. Of course it was not dirty at all! A gush of pee could never be dirty; it was just warm water, a leftover from the bottle of Coke the day before. What Daphne had done was dirty, and even that could be solved very simply. So why would I hesitate? I peeked to Daphne's dripping underwear and imagined again how it would feel. It would feel warm and wet. I would just do a pee through my beautiful little dry panties. Oohhh, that would be nice! How would I do it? I wanted to keep it my little secret, and not show anybody what I was doing. Squatting was therefore out, and I found it too childish anyway. Everybody could do it squatting. I thought back to Brenda's trick of standing up, hiding everything under her dress, and got excited about that idea again. Yes, I would do it that way. Under my pretty dress, so that nobody could see it, and I would always remember it while wearing that dress again. But I wore socks and shoes, while Brenda could just kick off her flip-flops and walk and wet barefoot. Arrived back at the part of the playground with the swing set, I still had not solved my problem. And I felt quite a need to pee, so I could not wait too long. Fortunately Daphne helped me out, by mounting the swing again and carefully stepping over the puddle on the ground with her feet on either side. That was the solution! I just needed to part my feet enough to prevent my water flowing down my legs or falling onto my socks and shoes. Not parting them too far of course. I knew perfectly well what I myself would have thought if I had seen Daphne standing with her legs apart and looking down! But the rest was simple. My pretty dress would hide it all, I would only spread my legs and sneakily start to pee straight into my panties. Yes! I quickly walked to Daphne, told her my intentions, and then got behind her to push her while she sat on the swing. I glowed of excitement at the thought that I was going to piss in my pants on purpose! And so I did. First I re-tied the ribbon around my waist, pulled up my socks, and threw my hair over my shoulders, as if preparing for an official photograph. A strange tension came over me. There was nothing strange about my clothes, but they felt more cosy and secure than I ever remembered. I could only think of peeing in my pants now. Carefully I parted my legs a bit, about a foot, and looked around if anyone was looking my way. Nope. I could safely start. With each push I gave to Daphne, I felt my pee coming closer. Unlike as with the other girls, it wouldn't just come like that. It was as if my panties and my dress screamed in alarm to me. But if I really *wanted* to wee under my dress, the miracle would happen, I knew. I just needed to wait. In between pushes against the swing, I gradually won the battle. Finally, I could convince myself to begin, and with a feeling of shame, I had a breathless start. I looked down to my dress while I felt my pee coming out, and hoped that my panties would not touch my dress since it was made out of light blue fabric that would unmercifully show every drop. Slowly I started to spread my water into my panties, and only after I was sure that I indeed was wetting myself, with my panties really getting wet between my legs, I looked up again. To my surprise and fear, a woman had shown up! I realised she must be Sylvia's mother, come to take her home, meet her new friends, whatever. Either way, it was a bad moment to appear for her because I couldn't possibly stop weeing under my dress. While my panties got wetter and wetter, I tried to stop, but this only led to an even more powerful stream. My whole crotch seemed warm and wet, and I glanced to the front of my dress in fear of showing it off. But no. There was still nothing to see. And even if there was, I had to continue. Still with my legs parted, I gave Daphne another push and hoped that the woman would soon go away. Daphne softly mumbled: "Have you started doing it yet?" "Yes," I whispered, hoarsely. "Uh-oh. Can you stop?" "No. I tried. It won't stop." "Keep going then. Smile. Act natural, but be quick about it." I smiled at the woman, who only saw a girl in a pretty blue dress pushing another girl in a pretty brown leather dress on a swing, hoped for the best, and continued wetting my panties. They now felt completely soaked and it could not take much longer before it would start to fall down between my legs. And it did not feel like I could stop soon. Another push against Daphne's swing, and on I went. To my horror, the woman came to us! Sylvia came with her, and introduced her to us. She appeared not to be her mother but her eldest sister. Not that this was of much relief to me. The woman was at least twenty years old or so, and I would rather have her go away NOW. But no, it was not to be. To my dismay she started to talk about something I did not even grasp, as at that moment I felt something falling down between my legs. I also felt that I started to blush, and still I couldn't stop! The woman gave us a smile and seemed to turn around and leave us. Just before I could sigh from relief, she turned back however and looked puzzled to the puddle under Daphne's swing. It had not rained for weeks. By looking down to the puddle, she could not possibly miss the tiny stream from under my dress. I closed my eyes and wanted to sink into the ground. And still more wee found its way into my panties. I could hear the dripping above all other sounds. And no chance to bail out. I had to continue. With a slightly amused tone in her voice, the woman said: "Looks like our two naughty girls have found a little game to play." I didn't dare to open my eyes, still wetting, harder even. But a certain rest came over me now I was detected. It couldn't get worse, after all, and the woman seemed not too harsh. I heard her walking around the swing to get a look at me from behind. My parted legs, the tiny stream from under my dress, and my red face couldn't possibly mean anything else. "You're going quite well. And under such a pretty dress! How nice that must be." Amazed I opened my eyes and met the eyes of Daphne, swivelled back on the swing, who was as surprised by the woman's attitude as I was. She walked back in front of us and remarked: "It feels nice to wee in your panties, doesn't it?" Without hesitation, and to my own horror, I answered: "Yes it does. It is lovely." It was. The inevitability of the situation made wetting my panties into a wonderful experience, and my excitement rose with the second. The woman smiled, and said: "Is this your first time? I mean, wetting yourself on purpose?" So she had interpreted my pose correctly as being no accident. I nodded; it *was* my first time. "Good! It is very brave to do it under your dress. I did not dare to do anything like this until I was much older than you." She now looked to Daphne, who felt caught as well. "And you were brave, too, wetting yourself on a swing! I never tried that." The woman now looked to her little sister, who had said nothing while her big sister unravelled our secrets. "And you? Did you also join these girls in their game?" Sylvia kept silent, fumbling with the hem of her dress, and the woman nodded approvingly. "You did! Good girl." This of course encouraged me a great deal, and I abandoned my efforts to stop weeing. From under my blue dress a faint hissing could be heard as I gushed everything I had through my panties. Daphne and the woman looked down to my feet where a puddle started to form, and I stopped pushing the swing to concentrate fully on wetting myself. After a while I placed my hands on my hips and parted my legs a bit more, still feeling extremely excited in a strange way. From under my dress a waterfall fell down that reminded me of the fountain Daphne had rinsed her panties in. A tingling feeling swept through my body and I quivered from delight. I had never felt anything like this before, and instantly I knew I would treat myself to more in the future. That just weeing in my panties could cause such incredible pleasure! Looking down, I examined my dress, but still could not see any sign of a stain. Slowly the stream died out now, and a bit later I could carefully try to walk again. Daphne got excited too, and felt she somehow had missed an opportunity with her fumbling on the swing. The woman applauded, and congratulated me for doing such a good job first time around. And Daphne could always have another go later on. Which, of course, was entirely true. I just stood there, enjoying the strange but comfortable feeling of wet panties under my dress. The woman looked around carefully, then whispered to us: "Do you girls think I could give it a try myself?" Now Daphne and I really were surprised, and Sylvia as well. Getting away with our little game, alright, but this woman, her sister, joining in? "Well, er... of course you can. But you don't wear a dress or a skirt." She smiled. "I know. A pair of jeans can be wet, too." "But how do you get away with it then?" She pointed to a bag that lay on a bench, close to the place where the other girls were playing some less naughty game. "I was just going home and I have my weekend clothes with me. I can easily change." She winked. "Could I please use the swing for a moment? I told you I did never try it that way!" Daphne left the swing, careful not to splash her socks in the puddle on the ground, and handed it over to Sylvia's sister. A little curious, another girlfriend of mine came closer to see what was going on. Sylvia's sister sat down on the swing and started a gentle motion. Then, she lifted her feet from the ground, sat back on the swing a little just like Daphne had done, and spread her knees. "There we go, girls." While she started to rock her hips back and forth, the woman looked to her crotch and soon we saw her blue jeans darken and get shiny. Like with Daphne, a puddle formed between her legs and the swing seat. But this time there was no leather dress to stop the liquid from leaking away, and after a few seconds a rain of droplets showered the ground under the still moving swing. The inner thighs of her jeans got stained as well now, as the fabric absorbed as much of the water as it could. It took half a minute to finish her pee, and the woman seemed to really like it, as she moaned softly and clutched the ropes of the swing like she would never let them go again. Finally, she got off the swing, and we could see that her ass was completely wet as well. Talk about obvious, I thought, and praised my little dress. "Thanks for using the swing, girls. It was wonderful." That said, she walked to her bag, took out a long skirt, put it on over her jeans, took off the jeans and put them inside her bag. Then she came back to us. "So! That was easy, wasn't it? Ah, what a nice day it is." The new girl timidly raised her finger as if she was in class, and the woman kindly bent her knees to come at equal height: "What is it? You can call me Dorothy." "Er, Miss Dorothy, I don't dare to do it by myself and my friends say that I am a little baby if I don't." Dorothy blinked with her eyes for a moment and thought that something must have been reversed here. As if grown-ups always behaved like this! But who cared. The girl wore a one-piece dress almost to her knees, and sandals without socks, so there should be no technical difficulties. "What's your name?" Dorothy asked. "Emma, Miss Dorothy." "Emma, do you need to pee? You need to pee first before you can do it." "Yes Miss Dorothy, I need to pee very much." "Alright then. I'll show you how to begin. Once you have started, the rest is easy." The girl nodded delightfully and stuck out her tongue to her friends who stood a bit further away and now slowly came closer to watch. Dorothy mumbled to herself that it had been a good idea not to spoil all she had in her jeans. "Just do what I do Emma, and it will happen by itself. First, loosen up your shoulders a bit and relax." The girl smiled and moved around her shoulders. "Ready? Do you still want to pee your panties like a big girl?" "Oh yes, Miss Dorothy! Please show me what I must do!" I now got excited again, and together with the other girls I kept silent and closely watched what would happen. "Then there we go. Do exactly as I do." Dorothy parted her legs until her ankle-long skirt prevented them to go further apart. Emma quickly followed her pose and spread her little legs until her dress was tightly around her thighs. Dorothy looked around a bit to spot possible passers-by, and then placed her hands in her sides. This was obviously not the way to hide your intentions, I thought, but what the heck. Emma of course followed Dorothy precisely. "Now, are you ready to become a big girl?" Emma nodded frantically. "Then watch out. I am going to count down from ten, and at zero we both start to wee, yes?" Emma bit her lip. "No? You want something different?" "Couldn't you please do it first, Miss Dorothy? So that I can see what I should do?" Dorothy smiled. "Of course I can. Look good. It is really simple. You wear a dress or a skirt. You part your legs. You just take a deep breath. And then... and then... you... aahhh!" Soon the sound of pee hissing into panties, drops falling onto the ground and her heavy breathing told us that Dorothy continued wetting herself for half a minute more. A small stream meandered from under her skirt and found its way down the playground. She quickly regained herself and while remaining in her wetting pose, she encouraged Emma to start as well. Emma continued to bite her lip and looked down to her dress. "No, no. You don't look down to your dress! It will happen by itself if you just let it come and don't think about it. Look at me." Emma gazed up to Dorothy. "Look at my eyes. Yes, that way. Keep looking. Now, you let it come. Carefully. Carefully. It is almost there, you feel?" Emma nodded, and happily kept looking at Dorothy's face. "Good! Now you will be a big girl, Emma. Let it come. Be a big girl." Emma swallowed and a strange expression appeared on her face. It seemed to move from surprise to disgust, then real pleasure. She closed her eyes firmly, opened them widely again, and suddenly called: "I am doing it! I am doing it! I wee in my panties! I can feel it! Am I now a big girl, Miss Dorothy?" Without waiting for the answer, Emma looked down to her dress and soon was completely drawn into the act of thoroughly soaking her underwear. She really got the hang of it and even slightly bent her knees to put more pressure on her bladder. Dorothy watched satisfied how the waterfall clattered down on the pavement. She should have started teaching at primary schools, she thought. Daphne looked at me, shrugged her shoulders, and spread her legs as well. While Emma was still dripping, Daphne now started weeing in her panties for real, and made a fifth puddle on the sand. Dorothy showed us all three how to squeeze out our panties with our thighs, and then we all hiked up our skirts and dresses to see who had the wettest underwear. Daphne, of course, with Dorothy a good second. After this large display of naughtiness, we all giggled and then quickly went someplace else. Dorothy disappeared shortly afterwards and I have never seen her again. Neither did we ever again run into a big wet party like that day. Of course, on occasions you could trap another girl behaving suspiciously, and I admit I have not always really looked for a toilet, but in general our wet games came to an end. With one exception. I'll tell you about that next time. - 0 - 0 - 0 - 0 - ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- To find out more about the anon service, send mail to help@anon.penet.fi. If you reply to this message, your message WILL be *automatically* anonymized and you are allocated an anon id. Read the help file to prevent this. Please report any problems, inappropriate use etc. to admin@anon.penet.fi.