Perhaps you should reread Part I, found here, to refresh your memory about the misadventures of our cute little Polltaker Rebecca and come back her to read this next chapter.
“Wait! Wait ! Wwhaaaayyy!” she yelled running down the street waving her hands in the air like a mad woman. “Damm you! Wait!”
The rumble of the loud diesel engine pulling away shattered the otherwise quiet morning just as she raced towards the bottom of the steep street. Still at a distance she attempted to make eye contact with the bus-driver, literally waving frantically to get his attention, to get him to stop. The bus pulled away just as she reached the corner.
He gave her a double salute as he mouthed something at her, seemingly unimpressed with the free show that the bright morning sunlight was revealing under her dress and that he would be further treated to as she got closer had he stuck around to see. Instead, he just caught sight of her in the large rear-view side mirror in her sun-drenched outfit, as she jumped up and down in the breezy morning.
As her only means of transportation into town for the next forty-something-odd minutes roared away, she kicked the ground angrily and yelled out her self-frustration, at yet another one of her inpatient led stupid decisions. She should have waited for the bus at the previous stop instead of losing patience and deciding to take the shortcut to the next stop; to this stop. Some shortcut that was, she thought shaking her head in self-anger.
Standing on the empty street corner catching her breath and assessing her unproductive morning; she debated her next move. She could simply admit defeat and go home, and deal with the consequences that would await her; plus acknowledgment that he was right, that she should have accepted his offers to help at least. That or decide to trek forward now on foot toward more productive signature-gathering ground, towards this little country town’s sad excuse of a downtown.
She was close to accepting defeat despite dreading the familiar lecture of “not being able to see things through” that was to come from him if she did. She was frustrated enough to deal with his I-told-you-so tone, had it not meant having to trudge all the way back home on rural roads, trudging back up the hill – all in heels. Damn heels.
She stared at her clipboard as the breeze fluttered what was left of her blank voter registration forms that had not been lost previously, the decision was made. Accepting defeat, she decided to rid herself of the heels in order to somewhat ease the retreat home.
She leaned against the bus stop pole and just as she bent forward to unhook her strap, the ever opportunistic wind blew a fierce chilling gust directly at her. The lightweight dress was pulled back like a theater curtain to reveal a full-view and complete spectacle of her ripe bottom, thanks to her size-too-small panties and wedging themselves deep, becoming lost between her cheeks, as she leaned forward and over to remove her heel.
The unexpected chill forced her to drop the clipboard in order to grab tighter onto the bus stop pole and brace herself with both hands. As the wind blew against her, her dress and her modesty were being sacrificed as she was helpless to fight back without the use of her hands. She swung right then left, in and out; all in an attempt to shield the light-weight material from being entirely caught by the wind once again. Had anyone come upon her at that precise moment they would not have understood her defensive dance against the elements, but instead, have mistaken her gyrating as her public practicing of a dance routine against a makeshift stripper pole.
However, she was determined not to give anyone a free show she told herself as she released her tight grip on the pole to grab for her escaping hem while still in a flamingo stance; an attempt to keep her bare foot off the cold wet floor. Unfortunately, her moves were all too uncoordinated and next thing she knew she lost her balance and found herself crashing into the pavement, bottom first.
A moment later her long hair was swirling in the wind and blinding her, a small mercy of hiding her pitiful face now on the verge of tears. Potential tears at the realization that not only had the wind won, having whipped up her dress for an extended slow-motioned minute just before she landed, but it now kept her dress waving and leaving her on full display. The lightweight dress once more fluttered like an inverted parachute while the force of the constant breeze would have snapped her dress right off had it not been for her ample breasts and sleeves keeping it attached to her small frame.
She sat defeated, her bottom against the unforgiving pavement, spread legged while her dress and hair fluttered in competition around her. Not ready to stand up, guessing it less of a show to remain seated, she slowly became aware of a growing cold sensation. No, this really can’t be, she thought upon realization of what was happening. The cold dampness of the morning pavement was rapidly soaking into her underwear and no doubt increasing the transparency of her already thin and sheer panties. She really wanted to cry; unable to muster up the energy to stand up yet not believing the added insult to injury.
Her dismay suddenly doubled when she heard a car engine approaching with the simultaneous blaring of music. She parted her hair with her hands to see an oncoming truck and immediately scrambled, fighting against the wind, to get back on her feet. No, no, no, there is no way they are going to see me like this she mumbled to herself recognizing the 4x4 pickup.
She was on her feet in seconds scurrying to gather her clipboard and make a quick dash towards the nearest house. She spotted the front gate feeling that salvation from true embarrassment was within her grasp when she slapped her forehead in the realization that she had left her heels behind.
She dashed back. Bending over in a running stance she managed to scoop up one heel, stretched for the other but not before she slipped backward on the morning dew. She landed with a solid bounce, her ample bottom surprisingly not cushioning enough of the harsh impact, she squealed out in pain. She recovered in an instant, saved from serious injury thanks to her rear-weighted fall, but not without further sacrificing her dress and her sheer pantie covered bottom to the wind.
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Her thin fingers grasping the chain link for the life preserver it seemed to be as she closed her eyes and slowly attempted to catch her breath while wishing herself away.
Her momentary respite was interrupted by an odd feeling. She felt a strange sensation at her ankles and reacting to it as any other itch, instinctively taking her toes and rubbed them against the spot without ever opening her eyes.
“OhmaGawd!” Rebecca leaped up against the fence with full force.
Rowff! Rowff! Rowff!
“OhmaGawd! Fuccc!” her eyes bulged as she came face to face with a growling beast.
“Nnnnn…nice doggy…nnn…” she mumbled to the vicious looking black-eyed hound.
Rowff! Rowff! Rowff!
There was nowhere for her to go as she was trapped with her back against the gate. She scanned the overgrown yard for another way out but saw nothing; while her one hand fumbled behind her frantically attempting to find the latch. She grasped randomly without ever taking her eyes off the four-legged beast who continued his ear-piercing barking at her.
In that instant, she became fully aware of her entire body; from the sweat on her brow to the flush of her face, the feel of the small light hair on her arms standing on edge. She felt her chest, which was visibly inhaling and exhaling, aware of her nipples that were now feeling more exposed to the elements than they had all morning; their stiffness aching, having slipped from her under her ill-fitting bra and now piercing directly against the thin yet taught cotton dress.
With no way out she was about to fully despair when she heard a whistle and call that her mind did not fully process at that moment. The salivating hound stopped immediately at the command, backed away, and barked out a chorus at her once more before turning and running up the small dirt path towards the house and disappeared.
Seemingly saved, she let out a small whine of relief. But it was short-lived as she heard boot-steps coming from the house, and her heart nearly burst from her chest when she made eye contact with what she could only assume was the owner of the rabid hound. Zeroing in on his well-worn John Deer cap, she followed his unshaven chiseled face line for a few seconds before her eyes immediately dropped further. Dropping to the cold thickness he held in front of him; the imposing girth of the unforgiving polished double barrels of a shotgun.
Mesmerized and intimidated by the threatening power held in the man’s uncovered muscular arms, she released a full body shiver followed by a tremble of panic. The sensation made her fully aware of her entire body once more, this time beginning with the awareness of involuntary warm tears slowly rolling down her face. This was followed by another strange feeling between her legs. No longer just the uncomfortable cold moisture of the morning dew that had penetrated her panties earlier. No this was different. She closed her eyes tight again, beginning to pout audibly, bouncing in place while coming to the sudden humiliating realization of the undeniable fact of what she had just done.
Warm fluid flooded the small cotton crotch of her snug white panties. She pursed her lips and blew out slowly and repeated, trying to control her panicking breaths as an ongoing torrent pooled within her skintight briefs. She immediately spread her knees and tip-toed awkwardly in place at a failed attempt to separate her skin from the rapidly rising moisture. In an instant the sheer fabric had absorbed its fill. Unable to contain any more, the liquid in her tiny panties poured out, cascading down her bare legs.
She squatted down in hopes of stopping the jetstream, but the warm sputtering streams simply rushed down her inner thighs faster, spreading wildly around her bare legs. She couldn't believe it, her pee shot out of her like an open faucet, now drenching through the barely there sheer panties, puddling in the dirt at her uncovered feet while sending mud splattering back against both her naked thighs and her ample bottom cheeks.
She crouched there in a sight of wet pitifulness; her hair disheveled and makeup running black down her cheeks. She reached back and wrapped her dress tightly around her feminine curves, in a failed attempt at some modesty. Instead, the dress uncomfortably cradled her bottom as if she were wearing a sagging, wet diaper which in fact was what her soggy and stained panties now resembled.
Teary-eyed, she remained squatted; scrunching her recently manicured but now dirty toes anxiously into the wet ground uncertain of what to do next. She heard an unexpected gruff voice call out and it nearly sent her toppling backward into her own puddle.
“Who’s there?! Who’s trespassing?! Answer me or I will fill your trespassing ass with buckshot!”
So what did you all think of the further adventures of our little Polltaker Rebecca?
Did you enjoy that? Worth reading more about her?
Please share your thoughts.
it seems that a lot of what you write leaves me hanging with wanting to have a proper finish ..please continue this story i want to know what happens when she finally finishes up with the gun totter and when she goes back home ...
I enjoyed all the mishaps and could actually find my mind returning back in time to my many laugh out loud mishaps. However to be honest the pee stuff is an uncomfortable read. I know others may not agree! Lol but I enjoy your stories!ReplyDelete
It is true, a lot of what I write has a continuation feel, but they are mostly meant to be chapters. Additionally, due to my limited time for writing I use it to gauge interest, if enough readers comment they want more, I am happy to oblige. I do hope you have enjoyed this story thus far and thanks for commenting.
Truly appreciate you taking the time to comment!
Glad you enjoyed the fun mishaps, my goal is always to include some fun elements in all my stories (some more than others).
Thanks also for your honesty. I do believe some others might have been turned off by it as well since comments and votes are low in comparison to Part I. (I did put a disclaimer in the intro, but perhaps it was not clear enough of a disclaimer.) Regardless her wetting accident was meant to be sexy, embarrassing, and funny all in one, but perhaps still not what most want to read. Question is, is there still interest in the rest of her misadventures despite having to still deal with her current predicament?
Hi Enzo, I'll certainly read more. Bathroom stuff is hard for some. I used to have a hard time in a spanking story when the D partner made the d person wait to pee. Now not so much. There are always things in fantasy that are fine....some are ok in reality. For me it was just what I said above. Hope you get more responses from others. You do understand I still very much enjoy your stories?Delete
And I just read the above disclaimer as one many stories include. But I usually read and give the writer a chance.
Like I said I'll be here for part III.
Hi Minelle -ReplyDelete
Thanks for the added explanation, much appreciated. I as well hope I get some more responses just to see where others opinions are on the subject.
Glad you’ll be back to read and weren’t entirely turned off by this element of the story. I am always curious as to what makes my stories interesting in particular to readers or if it is simply the joy of finding free spanking related stories online.
It was hard to get into this chapter. Had she gone home, she would have deserved the scolding and possibly spanking. After all she was late. But by going with the wind and trying to get away from embarrassment, to be terrified of a dog and peeling on yourself and then being caught in that position. It just seems like a very bad and unsexy nightmare. I think having an accident and being caught is punishment enough. Now her boyfriend should just laugh at her and let her off the hook.ReplyDelete
Maybe you can turn it around and let the guy with the gun at least offer her some clothes. I would just never to be in her position.
Anyways, I'm so glad you writing again. I missed you in December.
Hi Heather -ReplyDelete
As always, truly appreciate your comments.
Yeah, I knew when I wrote this chapter, that scene in particular, that it was going to be hit or miss.
I know some guys take pleasure in the embarrassment of a girl peeing herself, and some girls also get a mixture of emotions in that situation, embarrassment and excited. Probably, not something for everyone, but I'm certain there are some, both guys and girls, who could find this an exciting scene.
Out of curiosity, do the windblown embarrassing scenes hold any interest to you in particular?
Maybe you’ll come back to see what happens next and how it all might turn out and possibly into an unexpected sexy continuation.
Glad to hear you missed my writing. Thank you.
The wind blown scenes in stories don't do much for me. I don't mind them as filler but I sort blow by them looking for the next juicy part.
It real life, they may be little embarrassing. (Most likely short lived.) But I wouldn't mind my husband seeing it and I could possibly get a small thrill out of it.
Did you do a post on the underwear commercial that had a girls skirt flying up? It was an advertisement to wear sexy underwear.
In the past I have enjoyed post that focus on the wind blown pictures, but I just don't care for as the main focus of a story.
Thank you for explaining the windblown preferences.
Yes, I did post an underwear commercial a long time ago, which can be found here:
If this is the same one you are referring to, perhaps you have been reading here for a long time or at least reading my old posts. Either of which makes me happy.
By the way, you had trouble publishing your comment because the older posts require authorization after so many days instead of auto-publishing. This is in order to deter the spam comments.
Remember you can always just email me directly if you have trouble or in general.