Here’s another archived update of our girl Sarah’s now-defunct blog.
After drinking a couple of glasses of lager, I decided to sit down at the computer to look on the internet. I often do this when I bored, and normally I’m bored because John is often never around…
There I was, sitting near the computer, looking through the pictures of seeing other women wetting themselves that I have downloaded from the internet. At that point, I decided to start playing hold it with myself.
I went to the kitchen to get a jug and some water to pour it in, then I returned to sit at the computer, and I would drink some fluid in regular intervals, in turn making myself desperate to wee.
After half an hour, I felt a need to go, but at present it’s only a slight need. I continued to look at the pictures whilst consuming more fluid. Suddenly, I heard the telephone was ringing, and when I answered it, I got the shock of my life. It was Isla on the other end of the phone. She only worked briefly at our office for a few months, and we became firm friends, not just because of work, but because she had a reputation of desperation and wetting. Most days at the office, she would become desperate to wee all day, seldom using the toilet, sometimes wetting herself entirely.
We said our hellos and talked about what we were doing now. While deep in conversation, I felt myself becoming more desperate, and started to fidget a bit. Isla said that she was in the neighbourhood and wanted to see me. I told her the address, and sure enough, when the doorbell rang I opened it and saw a very lovely Isla, who was wearing a yellow-check t-shirt and grey trousers.
We sat on the sofa and soon I noticed that she was fidgeting too. Within a few moments, she had crossed her legs very tightly. I was watching her behaviour whilst talking to her, which for a while made me forget my desperation. I offered her some water, so she got a glass and drank most of it straight away. It was great watching her beginning to get desperate.
About an hour later, Isla put one hand inbetween her legs and started rocking on the sofa, making it shake a little. It got me even more excited… and more desperate. After a couple of glasses of water each, we were now both fidgeting wildly on the sofa, never admitting to each other that we both needed to wee.
Suddenly, the front door opened. John had returned from one of his friends’. I introduced him to Isla, and they both shook hands. That was all I needed… I wanted to wee, almost secretly with Isla, but now John had got in the way.
John sat with us, and we were in deep conversation, and by that time I really needed to wee badly. I double crossed my legs and using my willpower in a bid to prevent myself from wetting. Isla, although fidgeting just as wildly as me, seemed more in control. John was puzzled about our fidgeting, but didn’t know the real reason for it.
We all had more fluid, Isla and myself had more water, John had a can of beer. He went to the toilet a couple of times, but both Isla and myself never went near it. I got up a few times, just to get the drinks. I expected both our bladders were now at bursting point. I just wanted him to leave us so I could get excited about my friend again, but at the moment, it simply wasn’t possible.
In the end, I just had to wee, so I got up quickly off my seat and rushed to the toilet, discreetly holding myself. I let out a huge gush of wee in the toilet. I had all that water, plus two glasses of lager to get rid off. I gave a big sigh when I let out my last drop. When I returned, John and Isla were deep in conevrsation, and now she had both hands jammed in her legs and had crossed them tighter than before. I was paying more attention to her plight. She likes to hold her wee to the point that she has to go, but she couldn’t admit it in front of John (I’ve been trying to do it in front of him for years, but without any luck).
Soon, it was time for Isla to leave, and this time she was bursting quite badly, but she tried not to show it. All the time she was here, she didn’t go to the toilet, even though she needed to wee. Surprisingly as she left, I saw a small, discreet wet patch on the back of her trousers. I bet in a few moments she would definitely going to wet herself, but now I’ll never know.
Later, while John was asleep, I got out of our bed and went to the bathroom. I pulled off my knickers and started to masturbate. I continued to rub my pussy for around twenty minutes, thinking about Isla getting desperate to wee. I built up to a delicious climax as I saw a vision of Isla wetting her knickers. That kept my sexual frustrations at bay, at least for a while.