Here comes the latest update in the Sarah’s Secret Diary archive.
I decided to buy a present for John for St. Valentine’s Day. To avoid having to make a day of it and having to go shopping, I chose to order a nice watch for him from the catalogue and waited for it to come.
That was a week earlier however, and when the big day came, there wasn’t a sign of any package. I had to go to the shop to get a loaf of bread and when I came back, I got a letter from the Royal Mail:
WE CALLED TO DELIVER A PACKAGE, BUT YOU WERE NOT IN.
Under the notice was a map pointing to the post sorting office where I could pick the package up. I was annoyed about this, but, as it was the big day, and John was soon to come home later, I had no choice but to go there. Unfortunately, I was so busy doing other things that I forgot about having to go to the loo.
When I got to the sorting office, there was an unusually long queue of people and, as a result of waiting, I began to fidget. The queue moved slowly as many people were being served.
However, the queue had stopped moving when a middle-aged man began arguing with a clerk behind one of the counters. I was getting more desperate by the moment, so I crossed my legs tightly. I noticed a man standing behind me was leering at my legs and just about saw a slight bulge in his trousers, the randy bastard!
The middle-aged man was arguing with the clerk for the last fifteen minutes and I was in serious need of a wee. At that point, I was so tempted to hold myself, but not in public. The row between the man and the clerk was reaching fever pitch….. and so was my desperation, but I couldn’t leave the queue. I was wondering whether they were going to resolve their problem, so I could get my package and solve my own one. My desperation was getting so bad that I felt some people in the queue were watching me.
Suddenly, I felt a little wetness leak into my knickers. I then had no choice but to grab myself and curtsy regularly. At that point, I didn’t care who was watching me because I didn’t want to wet myself. But soon it became apparent that I couldn’t hold it any longer…. the wee then started to seep through my knickers and the wet patch was beginning to darken the light pair of jeans I was wearing.
I looked down at my legs in sheer embarrassment as my jeans got wetter and wetter. A little puddle had formed under me. I rushed out of the sorting office, pushing past some of the shocked people in the queue and ran back home. John never got his present…. I was too frightened to go back in case somebody would recognise me from that day.