Here’s another update in the Sarah’s Secret Diary archive.
I got a lovely bunch of roses from John. It’s nice to know that he remembered St Valentine’s Day and that he always treats me to dinner. Okay, we have our ups and downs, mostly because he’s a builder he’s often away a lot, but we can’t seem to consider separating.
This time it was different. We had won a trip to a posh London restaurant. I couldn’t believe it! I bet entered the competition because he didn’t want to pay too much for the meal! Mind you, I wasn’t complaining as we were going to dinner and were determined to enjoy ourselves.
I was wearing a lovely, long purple dress, had a tiara on my head, and had a lovely pearl necklace that John gave me as a present. he had worn a black tuxedo with gold cufflinks and a ring that I gave him as a present.
First of all, we were picked up in this black Limo. I felt like I was in heaven and looked at the plush lining on the inside. The competition’s representative greeted us and offered us a glass a champagne each. I drank down mine immediately and asked for a refill. It was a long drive, and before we got to the restaurant, I realised that I needed to go to the toilet. I kept quiet about it, because John doesn’t share my wet fetish, ever since he saw me wet myself in New York a while back. I decided never to mention it again.
We were shown to our table, and the representative sat down and spoke with us. There was some delays with the dinner we ordered, so I drank a glass of wine while I was waiting. Soon enough I was getting fidgety, but not too desperate to go, at least not yet.
Soon, we got our order, which was huge, and we just about struggled to eat it between the three of us. We were talking away all night. I was shifting around in my seat as my need to pee increased. In intervals, I would cross my legs, squeeze them tightly and flexed my bladder muscles. It felt good for a while.
John and the representative went to the toilet twice already, but I felt too shy to go. I eventually plucked up some courage to go up to the toilet. I walked into one of the cubicles and locked the door. I looked at the toilet seat, but couldn’t for some reason to get myself to pull my knickers down to pee. I stood there and put both my hands on my crotch through my dress and moaned for a few minutes. I left without peeing, and when I returned to our table, John asked me if I was alright. I replied to him that there wasn’t any problems. That was a lie. About an hour later, my bladder was aching for relief, but I still felt too shy to go to the toilet again. I put one hand on my crotch and tightened my legs even more. I was trying with all my willpower in a bid to keep myself from wetting.
Suddenly, we heard that there was to be a presentation, and that we were to be given a mystery prize. John and I were naturally excited about this. When the presentation was made, we had to go to this special stage made for the competition winners. However, as I got up from my seat, I felt a little pee seep into my knickers. I was horrified. I was close to wetting and I didn’t want John to know that I was doing it again. I walked with him gingerly to the stage and then crossed my legs in the standing position, squeezing them even tighter, but I was began to leak some more pee. The presentation was to last only twenty minutes, but for me needing to pee, it felt a lot longer.
When we got our prize, a cheque for £100,000, we jumped for joy and went to hug each other…. that led me to leak a longer spurt of pee, which soaked my knickers and made a little rivulet down my inner thighs. I struggled to release myself from John’s grip and rushed to the toilet. I got into a cubicle, lifted my dress, and sat on the seat. I probably had the most sensational pee through my soaking wet knickers, and gave a huge sigh of relief as I did so.
I decided to take my knickers off, wipe myself, and chuck them in the bin. I wasn’t going to need them when we get back to the flat to share our most intimate moments…