Wet Pants on the Moors

Mike and I were on the top of a hill called Kinder Scout in Derbyshire. It was summer but we had just walked through one hell of a downpour and were pretty wet. I was wearing an old pair of pale blue corduroy shorts and Mike a pair of chopped off long grey ones. We were sat on a couple of rocks facing one another and having lunch when I noticed a stream of pee running from Mikes crotch and trickling down the rock. If I had not sen the trickle I would never have known he was wetting himself. We grinned at one another and I did the same thing except I was in a slight hollow on the rock and I ended up in a pool of my pee. I was excited to think my mate wet himself. If I had fancied him before, and I had, I certainly fancied him now. As we stood he pulled the waistband of his underpants up and said, “I know they show but they feel good when they cling to you”. I agreed and he asked if I peed my pants very often and I told him every couple of weeks or so and he laughed and told me he did as well. We agreed it was a turn on.
Back at the car park the toilets were locked up and we both stood and wet ourselves again.
We never took it any further this time but one night we were having a drink at our local there were two customers who peed themselves as they walked back to their homes.
A few weeks later I got an invitation to stop over at his place after we had been drinking but that is altogether another story.

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  1. Having been on Kinder in bad weather I estimate about 30% of us were so fazed by the fog and difficulty of keeping to the route that doing it down our legs was inevitable.

  2. Many years ago I had a friend who walked in that area every weekend. He used to wear a pair of waterproof trousers over his shorts or cord pants and pee himself several times during his walks. He got more brave as he got older and stopped wearing the waterproof over trousers. A very uninhibited guy, I miss him a lot.

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