Here’s the latest update in the Sarah’s Secret Diary archive.
Coming up to the Christmas season, our workplace has, for every year, had a pre-holiday party. It’s often held on the final Friday before Christmas, and we normally go to the same restaurant the management recommends.
It’s great, but I wish we could go somewhere different next year. Can’t complain though, they’re paying for it, so we can have as much as we like to eat and drink without having to foot the bill ourselves!
It was the afternoon before the party, and as usual, I was sitting at my desk and bursting to go tot the toilet, having decided earlier decided to have a good hold that day. I was wearing a white blouse and black trousers. I felt the rubbing of the material of my trousers as I cross my legs tightly and fidget a little… that felt nice. I was also feeling a little light-headed as well, as I had a couple glasses of wine to celebrate the festivities. That seemed to swell my bladder a bit.
Another hour towards the party, and my desperation grew steadily worse. I had by now jammed one hand inbetween my crossed legs whilst struggling to write my last report of the day with the other… as a result, I kept making several spelling mistakes on the paper I was writing on, making my task longer than usual. In the end, I managed to finish the report with just an hour to spare. That meant I had plenty of time to get changed and freshen up.
Instead of going home to get changed, I bought my long black dress with me to work, so I could go into the toilet to change into it. I know I should’ve peed when I got changed, but somehow, even as I was very desperate, I made no real attempt to use the toilet as I was getting changed into the black dress. Underneath, I put a nice pair of navy blue bra and knickers, tights and black high heels. As I put some lipstick on, I had a sudden spasm in my stomach, and i was tempted to jam one hand in my crotch through my dress in order to prevent some leakage.
Most of the staff at work were present at the party in the restaurant, including the management of course, and there was plenty of food and drink there, in which I started to consume my fair share, despite my bladder being now at bursting point. I walked to a discreet part of the main room, and cleverly covered one hand which was grabbing my crotch under a very nice silver handbag John had ought me last Christmas. I was slightly bending double and trying to keep control of myself. One of my male colleagues, Kevin, an extremely handsome man, came over to me and asked if I wanted a drink. Naturally, I obliged, even though I wasn’t in the position to hold any more fluid.
Kevin gave me a glass of white wine, and we started talking. I couldn’t stop myself fidgeting for all it was worth. He asked me what was wrong, but I lied to him, saying that I was a bit cold. Throughout the night, I kept holding my pee for so long. It go so bad that I tried to retain control by constantly flexing my bladder muscles.
In the end, I knew I had enough. I asked Kevin to wait a few moments as I was about to go to the toilet. I then made a brisk walk to the toilet, at this time holding myself so tightly through my black dress. When I reached the toilet and went inside a cubicle, I didn’t pull my knickers straight down to pee…. instead, I lifted my dress, put one hand inside my knickers, and started to rub my aching pussy. I often like to masturbate in private when I’m desperate like this.
Within minutes, I rubbed myself to a raging orgasm…. a very delicious one at that… and only had time to pull down my knickers so the pee can shoot out of my pussy over the toilet. It came out like a fountain, and was so relived of letting go all of that pee. I waited a few moments to try to compose myself after what I’ve done. I returned to Kevin, who had a puzzled look on his face. He asked me why was I taking so long in the toilet. I replied that most women spend a while longer in the toilet than men… after all, it’s the way human beings are created!
The sad thing about this is that I’ll be spending Christmas with John and his parents. I still love him to death, but he doesn’t share my wetting fetish. Shame.