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Her eyes dart nervously, searching for a restroom as the cars inch forward. Her legs are like stone, crossed tightly in a futile attempt to hold back the tide. Sweat beads on her upper lip, matching the dampness between her legs. She's a ticking time bomb, her body's warning signals growing louder. Suddenly, a wave of relief washes over her, but it's too late. Her panties are drenched, the pee seeping through her leggings, leaving a dark stain. She's mortified, her face burning with embarrassment, but there's no stopping the flood now. She's left to endure the humiliating wetness until she can escape the traffic's clutches.