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Last night, my wife was returning after a ten-day trip overseas. I drove down to meet her outside the terminal. She got into the car, and I put my hand on her crotch. To my surprise it was damp. The pants were dark brown corduroy and relatively thick so the wet spot wasn't overtly conspicuous.
Now, we enjoy a good deal of wet sex in the privacy of our home, and she really enjoys teasing me and herself by wetting. Needless to say, she wasn't embarrassed by my action and reaction. In fact, she liked it. During the short drive home, she filled me in on the facts.
Her flight was delayed, and this put her in the airport at a time of very heavy international traffic. The lines at immigration were extra long. Already planning for a wet tumble once we got home, she had not used the lavatory on the plane since shortly after departure. Now six hours later she was nicely desperate. There are no WC's in the immigration hall. She tried to hold on, but as she was moving up to present her credentials to the immigration officer, she felt a spurt.
Nonplussed, she had to move along. Walking meant that she couldn't keep her legs pressed together, and she leaked some more. She managed to stem the flow and get through the process without flooding her pants. She hurried to the WC and relieved some of the pressure on her bladder. She noticed a spot about the size of an apple in the crotch of her pants, and her panties were in worse shape.
I couldn't wait to get her in bed, and we enjoyed a hot reunion with all the trimmings.
[Sorry guys, I didn't take any photos. Perhaps you can imagine how it looked from the narrative above.]
Now, we enjoy a good deal of wet sex in the privacy of our home, and she really enjoys teasing me and herself by wetting. Needless to say, she wasn't embarrassed by my action and reaction. In fact, she liked it. During the short drive home, she filled me in on the facts.
Her flight was delayed, and this put her in the airport at a time of very heavy international traffic. The lines at immigration were extra long. Already planning for a wet tumble once we got home, she had not used the lavatory on the plane since shortly after departure. Now six hours later she was nicely desperate. There are no WC's in the immigration hall. She tried to hold on, but as she was moving up to present her credentials to the immigration officer, she felt a spurt.
Nonplussed, she had to move along. Walking meant that she couldn't keep her legs pressed together, and she leaked some more. She managed to stem the flow and get through the process without flooding her pants. She hurried to the WC and relieved some of the pressure on her bladder. She noticed a spot about the size of an apple in the crotch of her pants, and her panties were in worse shape.
I couldn't wait to get her in bed, and we enjoyed a hot reunion with all the trimmings.
[Sorry guys, I didn't take any photos. Perhaps you can imagine how it looked from the narrative above.]
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