Before the Bathroom went online, Former editor Neville had asked on forums on watersports websites about their experiences of wetting and desperation. He had a great response. One lady had sent him three of her experiences. This is the first of three.
I travelled to this small village in Kent. The purpose was to film someone as they left the building on my camcorder. Fortunately for me, the building in question was about fifty yards from a railway station, so I knew I can sit and wait without looking suspicious.
I arrived at the village around lunchtime, which gave me a couple of hours to kill. I was wearing black jeans, a red sweater and new trainers, and this is England, so I had my coat too. I wasn’t prepared for the fact that this was a tiny village and not much in it, so I decided to take a walk around and see some of the next village. I passed a little pub, so to kill time I went inside and had a salad roll and three diet colas, then decided to make my way back to the station.
I could feel a slight urge to pee, but I ignored it…. I figured I would get back to the station. By the time I got back, I needed to go rather badly, but continued to ignore the urgent signals my bladder was giving out. As there were some people at the station, I asked them where the nearest toilets were, but all I got was a few mumbled replies, one said there aren’t any around here.
By now the urge was increasing by the second and it didn’t occur to me that I might not be able to wait. I thought about going back to that little pub, but I knew I didn’t have time to walk there and back before people in the building were due to leave. I had traveled a long way to get this footage and it was very important to me. I couldn’t screw it up so I had to hold on.
It was another twenty minutes before they came out. I hoped I could wait. I found myself pacing up and down the station platform, had it been empty, I would have squatted there and then, but for a small village, this station was surprisingly busy. So there I was, frantically pacing up and down and keeping one eye on the clock, the other for any chance that I might have to squat down for some badly-needed relief, so after twenty minutes of frantic pacing, crossing my legs, holding myself when I hoped nobody was looking, sitting on the platform seat, then quickly realising it wasn’t a good idea before quickly jumping up.
I saw the people leave the building. I quickly got out my camcorder and started filming. The excitement of who I was seeing coupled with the growing desperation in my bursting bladder was becoming too much and I suddenly felt a warm trickle of pee run down my legs, but there was honestly and truly nothing I could do about it.
I was completely helpless as the warm liquid soaked the crotch of my black jeans, and in seconds had soaked both my legs and left me standing in a huge puddle. the relief was totally unwordable, and the arousing effect on me was indescribable. Once alone on the train ride home, I rubbed myself to a mind-blowing orgasm, so powerful I could still feel the echoes of it long afterwards.