Here’s the latest update in the Sarah’s Secret Diary archive.
I have been desperate for an hour. A workman is mending the toilet in the flat, and I need to use as soon as he has finished. He’s been there since around eight in the morning, so in the meantime, I had to drink two cups of tea as I was extremely bored.
I sat on my armchair in the living room, crossing my legs and began to fidget. After a while I called to the workman and asked him how long he would take in fixing the toilet. He replied that there was a problem and he needed more time to deal with it. That meant the toilet was out of bounds until it was repaired…. and now I needed to wee badly.
I was continuing to fidget, so I had decided to switch on my TV to watch something to keep my mind occupied. However, my mind wandered back to the growing pressure in my bladder. If I don’t get the chance to wee soon, I’ll have an accident.
Suddenly, I heard a splashing sound coming from the bathroom…. I rushed over to see the workman had broken the toilet, which had let out water flooding the floor. Now I wouldn’t be able to use it for a few days, and John would have to help pay for both a new toilet and repairs because we don’t have any home insurance. The workman said he will replace it in a couple of days and took the broken one away.
I was by now extremely desperate, but forced myself to clean the bathroom floor. It took me just fifteen minutes…. arguably the longest fifteen minutes of my life. I was bursting so badly, and was on the verge of wetting myself several times.
As I put my mop back into my cupboard I started to leak inside my knickers. I rushed to the bathroom, holding myself, knowing I couldn’t wait any longer. I took my trousers off and stepped into the shower (we don’t have a bath), crouched down, and waited to relieve myself.
Suddenly, I heard the front door open and shut…. John had returned home. Oh, no! I had to put my trousers back on as he was calling my name. I told him the bad news about the toilet and showed him the bill. To make things worse, he said that he needed to use the shower.
While he was having his shower, I was holding myself ever so tightly and bending double trying to stop myself from wetting. I then had an idea. I decided to look for a plastic container which was large enough for my wee to fill. I discreetly took my trousers down, crouched over the container, and finally let go….oooohhhh, what a relief! I had a long gush and the container was almost full to the rim when I finished.
I carefully carried the container over to the kitchen sink and emptied it just in time before John came out of the shower and saw me, asking me what was I doing with it. My face blushed with embarrassment, telling him that I was only washing the dishes.