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I was at my new friend's party, feeling cute in my tight jeans and leather boots. One drink led to another, and soon the music had me dancing. But halfway through my favorite song, the urge hit me — hard. I excused myself and ran through the house looking for a bathroom, heart pounding. Every step sent a jolt through my full bladder. I turned corner after corner — nothing. My body gave up in a lonely corner: hot release flooded through my panties, soaking through my jeans in a dark spreading stain. The denim clung to my skin as I let it all go. That's when he found me. Red-faced and humiliated, I tried to push him away, but he wouldn't leave. Something in his eyes told me he wasn't disgusted — he was turned on. The tension shifted from shame to electricity. I gave in, touched myself right there in front of him, wet jeans and all, and came harder than I expected.