Here is another archived entry on Sarah’s now-defunct blog.
I went on a rare night out with John to see the latest James Bond film, Casino Royale. I’m not a great fan of Bond, but John is, and he wanted me to go with him, so I agreed.
The problem was I hadn’t been able to visit the toilet most of the day. I was extremely busy at work, filing reports and doing other administrative work that I simply forgot about having to empty my bladder at the office.
I also had a hard time getting home (problems on the trains, roadworks), which meant I got home almost two hours later than normal. We had booked the tickets before hand, but it was touch and go whether I would’ve been able to make it that night.
When I got home, I was so thirsty, I brought a bottle of mineral water out of the fridge, then poured some of its contents into a glass. I began to gulp it down within five seconds… I felt refreshed, but I some how forgot what was I had to do first.
After I quickly showered, I got changed into a white t-shirt and dark blue jeans. John offered to drive us both to the cinema to avoid having to use the often infrequent bus services.
We got there just in time, and sat down in the screen where Casino Royale was showing, but the seats we booked were located in the middle of the row. At this time, I was getting that all too familiar feeling in my bladder, and it would be very difficult for me to get away very quickly if I needed to wee.
John had ordered popcorn and cola, and offered the drink to me. I initially declined, but he insisted that I have some, so I reluctantly sipped out of this massive cola cup through a straw.
The film started, and already, I was beginning to fidget a little bit, and within half an hour into the film, I was getting desperate. I crossed my legs as tightly as I could and shifted by bum on the seat repeatedly. Soon, I was only interested in thinking about seriously emptying my bladder.
The pressure inside me was building, and soon, half way through the film, I had both my hands jammed inbetween my legs. I needed to go to the toilet badly, but as the row we were both sitting in were full of other people enjoying the film, I knew I couldn’t just get up without attracting John’s attention.
I had continued to fidget and shift around on my seat. John then looked at me disapprovingly, and asked me what was wrong. I replied that I had an itch… a likely story, but that what it felt like at the time.
Suddenly, without warning, I had a little spasm in my stomach, and felt a two-second jet of wee soak my knickers…. I grabbed my crotch even tighter in a bid to retain control. The last few minutes of the film was the most terrifying of my life…. I was so desperate to wee, I felt that if I didn’t go soon, I would lose control on my seat… and would embarrass not only myself, but John, too.
At last, the end credits came, but as I got up to leave, John grabbed my arm, and told me to sit back down and wait for the others to leave. Oh, no! My need for my much-needed relief had to be delayed. I suddenly let another two-second jet of wee into my knickers. I grabbed myself and crossed my legs even tighter while my so-called boyfriend watches the end credits of the film (he always does this).
About two minutes later, John and I got up to leave the cinema. I tried to compose some dignity as we walked out of the cinema. As I walked, I felt more jets of wee soak my knickers, and it was getting more difficult to control, so I rushed to the ladies’, stepped into a cubicle and locked the door. The wee was continuing to come out slowly as I unzipped and pulled down my jeans and knickers. I sat over the toilet and started to let go the rest of my wee….goodness, I needed that. It took about a full minute to let it all gush out.
I looked down to my knickers to see a significant wet patch on the gusset. Once again, I was nearly close to wetting myself in public…. and almost in front of John.