Here’s the latest entry from Sarah’s now defunct blog.
Last night was probably one of the worst experience of desperation in my life. It started when while I was at work. The toilets had packed up again (twice in the last four weeks), so I had to spent much of the day trying to hold my wee in. I was wearing a white sweater and black trousers. During most of the afternoon, I was slowly feeling my bladder fill up.
When I was about to leave for home, My boss asked me to come to the office…on a Friday night of all nights! I had planned to go on a rare night out with John with some of our friends. Luckily, I brought my shiny black dress to work… just in case.
He asked me to finish off some reports for him and leave them on his desk. I gave a discreet groan, and had to call John that I would be late. He asked me to not worry about it and just meet up at the nightclub we were going to later.
I spent at least two and a half hours, barely concentrating on these reports because of the increasing pressure on my bladder. I had crossed my legs tightly and tightened my muscles in order to prevent any wee leaking out.
At around 8pm, I had finally finished. I shakily compiled the reports and put them on his desk in his office. I didn’t have time to go home to change, so I sneaked into an empty office to get out of my sweater and trousers to put on my shiny black dress. I didn’t bother to get a change of underwear.
I quickly got out of the office to get to the Underground. It was standing room only because there were crowds of other passengers there. My need to wee got steadily worse, so I crossed my legs tightly again whilst I was standing up.
I got to the nightclub, seeing John, his mate Ron and his wife Cheryl. When we sat down at our table, Ron had pushed a glass of rum and coke onto my hand, so I started to drink it. Throughout the evening we were laughing, talking, drinking….and I was getting very desperate. I double crossed my legs and tried to tighten my bladder muscles. I also began to fidget a little bit. Cheryl asked me if I was okay. I told her I was fine, a bit cold. That was a lie.
Eventually, I got up and tried to find a toilet. I slowly walked through a crowd of dancers, trying to avoid any sudden jarring of my body. I found the ladies toilet, but when I opened the door, I was disgusted at the state that they were in. There was toilet paper on the floor, and it smelled of…you guessed it, wee! I felt I couldn’t use them, despite being extremally desperate. I walked back to see John, Ron and Cheryl.
I was fidgeting regularly by now, and I had discreetly pushed both hands inbetween my legs through my dress. I didn’t want to get up from the stool now. I was also biting my teeth, which irritated John. He asked me to stop it. I tried, but it was difficult.
Once again, I got up to go to the toilet. I walked through the door to the toilets….the awful aroma went right up my nose as I entered a cubicle. I locked the door, wiped the toilet seat, then lifted my my dress, pulled down my knickers and sat down. However, my bladder muscles wouldn’t relax, so only a drop of wee would come out of my pussy. I tried straining myself in a bid to release some more, but it was no good. I did this for five agonising minutes, releasing just a little more trickle of wee. I had to pull up my knickers, straighten my dress and rejoin the others.
About half an hour late, my desperation became so bad, my hands remained tightly inbetween my legs. I was shifting around on my stool now, that even then I was getting unwanted attention from some other men at the club. A couple of them were looking at my predicament that much closer- dirty pervs!
At around two in the morning we had decided to leave the club to go home. I was walking in a haphazard fashion. John laughed, and probably thought I was drunk, but he didn’t know I was extremally desperate to wee. I walked behind the others in the dimly lit night, holding myself through my dress.
The night air began to get colder. We all went to sit on a bench near a local park. John phoned for a taxi so we didn’t have to wait for a night bus, but I felt I would find it difficult to wait that long. I wrapped my dress and crossed my legs even tighter by now. While the others were talking, I found it harder to try to open my mouth. I was on the verge of wetting myself, but I dare not tell the others.
About twenty minutes later, the taxi came, and we all got in. John sat at the front, whilst Ron, Cheryl, and myself sat in the back. It was about an hour’s ride to our flat….it was probably the longest hour’s ride I’ve experienced in a long time. I sat crossing my legs throughout much of the journey.
However, when the taxi got to our neighbourhood, there are streets with those infamous road humps. The taxi driver rushed over them quickly, causing sudden jolts in my bladder. I felt the wee was closer to my pussy’s edge. I knew that if we didn’t get home soon, I’ll wet the car seat, Ron and Cheryl, and make John very angry with me.
The taxi rushed over another hump…. that triggered a small spasm inside me, and a small jet of wee escaped into my knickers. I struggled to keep my bladder under control, but every time we passed over a hump, I let go some more wee. I felt a slight dampness on my skirt and seat, and simply didn’t know how I would last.
The taxi reached Ron and Cheryl’s house first. Obviously I had to get out of the taxi to let them out, but as I did so, I felt another spurt of wee soak my knickers. I was so worried, I immediately started to bend double, but I had hit my head on the taxi in the process. I pushed back and felt it. Ron and Cheryl were concerned about me hurting myself and asked me if I was okay. After a few long desperate minutes, in which I was both needing to wee, plus having a major headache, we left Ron and Cheryl to go home and we continued our ride back to our flat. Without warning, I started to spurt again, this time at regular intervals. I was trying frantically and discreetly to stop any more wee coming out.
We finally reached our flat, and as what you would expect, I rushed out of my taxi to get to the front door of our block. I fiddled with the keys from my bag and opened the door, then I rushed to our flat where I unlocked that door. I began to spurt again, but I couldn’t hold it this time, so I rushed to the toilet and locked the door. I then relaxed my bladder muscles and had the most sensational wee in the toilet. The relief on my face said it all, as the wee had gushed out of my pussy into the toilet.
After I finished and regained composure, I heard repeated rings of the doorbell…I realised it was John. I was so concerned about my own desperation that I had accidently locked him out!