Neville, the former editor of The Bathroom, is back with another experience.
This experience recalls the days when I was a political radical. I was part of a protest organisation which operated in inner London.
I joined because at that time I was angry with what the world was at that time. We did the usual campaigning stuff, hand out leaflets, going on demonstrations and sticking posters on walls.
One summer evening, I was going out with a group of fellow supporters to do a bit of poster-sticking. One of those supporters was a petite girl, who looked like the character Thelma out of Scooby-Doo, but prettier. She had short dark brown hair and black glasses and she was wearing a brown jacket and skirt with black shoes. I must admit at the time that I liked her.
The groups were paired off to do particular areas. I was paired with her to put up posters on a housing estate. Less than ten minutes in, the girl confessed to me that she needed the toilet. On hearing this, I became slightly aroused and felt my dick get stiff. I asked her if she could find somewhere to pee. She was understandably reluctant to do her business outside, so she said she would wait until we were finished.
However, half an hour later, and the girl was getting very desperate. She was grabbing her crotch a few times. I was finding it very difficult to concentrate on the job and kept looking back at her from putting up the posters. I asked if she was alright and advised her to find a discreet place to pee, but she declined.
We took a break and decided to go towards the main road to see if there were any cafes open. Sadly, after a twenty-minute search, all of them were closed, and by this time, the girl was getting frantic. She explained to me that she had drank a lot of fluid during the day and refrained from going to the toilet. On hearing this, I felt my stiffer dick straining on my trousers as if it was struggling to break free.
So, we reluctant went back to poster sticking, and the girl started bending double and grabbing herself repeatedly. At that point, I simply couldn’t resist looking at her struggling to hold her pee. In the end, she decide to bite the bullet as she rushed to find somewhere to pee, and I was left to finish the work. She came back heavily relived. I discreetly inspected her skirt…. sadly for me, it wasn’t damp.
On my way home, during that night, and for weeks afterwards, I had dreams of the petite girl getting desperate and wetting herself.