Here’s another update in the Sarah’s Secret Diary archive.
I met Isla again at a surprise meeting for the first time in ages the other day. We hadn’t seen each other since she was unceremoniously sacked a while ago. We said our hellos and talked about what was happening in our lives.
She told me that she had got a job at a headquarters of a famous clothing store, in which she was better paid than she was previously. She was wearing a white blouse covered by a light brown sweater and a black knee-length skirt. While we were talking, I discreetly looked down to see that she was grabbing her crotch through her skirt in brief intervals… I could always tell that she often needed to go to the toilet.
We arranged to go to a bar and restaurant in London’s trendy Camden Town area. I was dressed in an ankle-length plain dark blue dress. Isla was wearing a light sky blue blouse, which showed her nipples poking through the material, and a navy blue skirt. One the way to the bar, I noticed that Isla was still grabbing herself in brief periods. In the few hours after I saw her, it didn’t occur to her that she should’ve used the toilet before coming out with me.
We went to the bar to have a drink while we were waiting for our table, and by now Isla had began to grab herself quite permanently and fidgeting slightly, but we were talking as if nothing was happening. I certainly didn’t mention anything to her. Soon we got to sit at our table and we had a wonderful meal. Even during our meal, I still noticed Isla was rocking a little bit and had one hand under the table, trying to prevent any wee from coming out. She had a worried expression on her face, but never admitted that she needed to pee.
What happened next was something I’ll never forget. When we walked out of the bar a few hours later, we walked a few hundred metres.
“Sarah, I need a wee,” Isla said softly, and grabbed her crotch ever so tightly. “I need to go now, but the public toilets are closed.”
“I know a little alley near here,” I replied.
We found this alley… it was quiet, but not far away from the main street.
“Seeing you desperate made me want to wee as well,” I said, and started to grab my crotch through my dress. In the moments that followed, we stood in front of each other, watching ourselves being desperate and doing curtsy. It became such a sexual thrill for me.
Suddenly, Isla said, “I can’t hold it any more,” and spread her legs apart, still holding herself. I heard that familiar hissing sound that pee makes when released. It began to soak her skirt and splashed down her thighs and onto the floor. I stood shell-shocked, my eyes were rooted to the pee stain Isla had made. She must’ve gone for over a minute, and I suspect that she may have corked it up all day. she gave a huge sigh of relief when she finished.
Soon, it was my turn. I grabbed my crotch with one hand, and let go a little, just to make a small wet spot on my dress.
“Go on, soak yourself completely,” Isla said softly. I went, and she knelt in front of me to see my pee drench the front of my dress. when I finished, all the lower half of it was soaked. Then Isla got up, walked up to me to give a long, lingering French kiss. I was stunned, but excited too. For several minutes, we tongued each other close up whilst grabbing each other’s wet crotches. it seemed like eternity. I found myself being attracted to this lovely, sensual woman.
After our wet encounter, we decided we had to call a minicab to go home, but would any driver let us in any cab in our wet clothes?