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Below you can find the list of all stories tagged Female Desperation sorted from newest to oldest. You can use page navigation at the bottom of this page, filter by author or tag.
I'm in the midst of holding it, all alone, and I'm already quite far into the game. I'm dressed entirely in black, my tightest jeans and a small black tee. I would prefer to be wearing more clothes, because when the time comes, there's just nothing quite as delicious as the feeling of all the hot wetness soaking me, through the fabric, first coming warm and quickly turning cold. But I'm not there yet. I've been gulping water and soda constantly for the past three hours. It's getting bad. My bladder is thrashing around like a dying fish– a big, heavy one. It's going to start hurting in earnest any minute now. I know my body quite well, having done this same thing countless times. Already I can feel my urethra…
Read →That night, when she came home, she was feeling very naughty.... But let's start at the beginning. Nicole was a very hot girl in her early twenties. With her long blonde hair, she was a typical cheerleader type– wearing the latest and tightest fashion around. Her favorites were a black lycra–spandex pair of pants, a thong (as long as it wasn't visible from any angle) and a matching black top (preferably without a bra, as gravity hadn't gotten hold of her nice breasts yet). And even though a push up bra would have fitted her well, she wasn't planning on wearing one tonight. She would have a lot of moments for herself and didn't want to be blocked from touching her nipples in any way. For the same reason she…
Read →It was late (past ten) one warm Saturday evening. My three friends and I had been out, strolling along the darkened streets of our quiet little town. Streetlights cast a pale yellow glow across the concrete that outshone the meager light of the moon. The song of the nocturnal city wildlife, you know annoying bugs and birds, was drowned out by our constant chatter and peals of laughter. Oh, but maybe I should tell you a little about my friends and myself first; and since I'm the one telling the story, it's only fair that I get first description. My name is Emily Armstrong and at the time of this story I was eighteen and a recent High school grad. I had long blonde hair that dropped to the middle of my back and…
Read →I've always been fascinated by a technique some women use as a last resort of holding back: sitting on their heels. In a recent post on a message board I learned that there was even a medical term for this, called "Vincent's Curtsy". This prompted me to write down the following true account: I once had one of my most erotic – if not THE most memorable – sighting of a girl sitting on her heels. I was fascinated beyond belief and every detail was burned into my memory. It was in a pedestrian zone, shortly after all the shops had closed and most people were heading back home. So was I, when I walked by this lady sitting NEXT to a bench in the middle of the pedestrian zone. She was sitting on her right heel and…
Read →(Based upon a true story) The narrow hallway in front of the theater was crowded; families, college students, high school kids, a few teachers, family, friends all crammed around and between each other. The ticket counter was at one end of the hallway, the performance reception, put on by a local arts association was at the other. That's where I saw Sarah that night. Working behind the reception table, serving punch to the many visitors, all alone, trying her best to keep up with the masses eating the cheap cookies, home baked cakes and drinking the fruit punch (non alcoholic, to my dismay). What made me notice her? I'd love to say she was the most gorgeous girl there but she wasn't. Oh, she was certainly…
Read →My wife knows of my watersport fetish (although it's not my only one. I enjoy bondage too) and even though it's not her favorite sexual activity she appeases me now and then, sometimes as a surprise. We had been talking about sex one morning, getting each other horny and preparing for later that evening. We had a dinner planned at my parent's house about 20 minutes away, and looked forward to coming home and playing with each other after that. (In southern California most driving is measured in minutes not miles, since the driving time is more related to the road you take, not the distance). Anyway, we talked about various things. Me licking her, nibbling her in sensitive spots, tying her up, etc. She asked…
Read →Melissa Barnes was running late for work. Her car was nearly out of fuel and she really, really needed to pee. She debated with herself about what to do. As a sudden spasm of her distended bladder came over her, she jammed her hand into her crotch to stem the impending flood. She rubbed her pussy, hard, barely getting control. It did not bother her that a small squirt of her golden fluid had escaped despite her best efforts. Melissa had always enjoyed peeing her panties, and just because it was not convenient was little reason not to enjoy it, especially if it was out of her control. She closed her bright blue eyes for a second, enjoying the feelings between her shapely legs. Melissa kept her ex–cheerleader's…
Read →Lisa Morrow woke up knowing something wasn't quite right. She had to pee really badly, but that wasn't what had awakened the voluptuous college senior. She glanced over at her companion. Sara Lennox was still fast asleep. Lisa puzzled for a moment, wondering what had awakened her. It was very quiet in the forest at this time of day. The first vaporous light from the breaking day penetrated the thick tree cover under which they had camped. The tent was still dark save the weak light from the glass covered candle lantern, itself burned to a nub. Lisa was just about ready to decide it was nothing and crawl back into the warm sleeping bag with Sara when she heard a noise. The sound was not loud but it did get her…
Read →Cherry went to sit down at the computer. She wanted another wet session, so she logged onto the Internet to look at some sexy pictures of other women peeing and getting desperate. She liked that because earlier she had drunk two large mugs of orange juice in quick succession. She was wearing a pair of white jeans and a sky blue top and had placed a large towel underneath her. While on her seat, she started fidgeting slightly. That felt good, shifting on her bum. She was beginning to enjoy herself. Then she logged on to a chatroom of one of her favorite fetish sites. She began talking to someone who was known only as username Demon. "How are you today?" she asked. "I'm just fine, thanks. How wet are you?"…
Read →Sheila was on her way home from college. She was sitting by window, alone in the train. She was looking forward to getting home soon; she hadn't seen her sister for two weeks. Sheila was a tall, slim, 19 year–old woman with well–sized breasts and long hair. She had very nice sexy butt and her pussy was really perfect, shaved into a slim decorated line. She was wearing white elastic trousers and a purple shirt beneath which was white lacy bra that was very sexy. On her sexy ass she was wearing nice white lacy panties, no thongs because she didn't feel comfortable with them in the train. Sheila was single; she didn't get on well with her last boyfriend because he was jealous when she was enjoying sex with other…
Read →Peeing for me is both erotic and political. It's erotic because I first masturbated when wiping myself after a pee and found that it felt good to wipe in a certain spot. Peeing is political because piss, in our society, must remain hidden, it's nasty and smelly, and most people just don't want to see or touch it. Well it just so happens that the political nature of pissing and the erotic aftermath have gotten all mixed up in one of my fantasies. Here for the first time I have set the purgative of my pen to this experience in the hopes of expelling it from the depths of my psyche. I had spend most of my 18th summer at the beach sun bathing, wondering how my body stacked up in the eyes of the indigenous gentry;…
Read →Tracy and Cathy were walking through the nature reserve, using it as a shortcut from the restaurant where they worked to the flat where they lived. Cathy was still dressed in her work clothes that consisted of mid–thigh black skirt, black tights and white blouse. Tracy had changed out of her skirt into a pair of blue jeans.. It was a warm day and before leaving work both girls had helped themselves to the remains of a half full bottle of white wine left by a customer. Neither was anywhere near drunk, but they were slightly merry. As they passed a small pond, Tracy nudged Cathy and said, "Dare you to go in with your clothes on." Cathy looked at her friend and then at the pond. If it wasn't for the wine and…
Read →We've told you most of our adventures since we first met about three years ago. Here's one that Robert missed out. It happened soon after we met, in the autumn (fall) when everything was damp and dismal outside. I had been persuaded to take more care over my appearance having seen what a difference a ribbon and a belt can make to the dullest outfit. Robert took me to a clothes shop called Young Miss. As I'm a poor sort of shape it never crossed my mind that anything could be done about being like a vertically compressed 8. First he took me to a rack of jeans and slacks, borrowed a tape from the assistant and asked me to stand on tiptoes and reach above my head. He whisked the tape round my hips before I…
Read →We wanted to tell you all of our exploits but some include people who might sue us. The following is scandalous but the participants have been contacted and given permission provided we change the names. The central character in this is a tunnel. Luckily there are quite a few tunnels on the canal system so we can hope to remain anonymous. May has two weeks holiday in the summer so we aim for peace and complete isolation traveling for ten of the fourteen days and stopping anywhere that takes our fancy. The journey would include the passage of two long tunnels that are quite claustrophobic. During the initial wet weekend we stocked up on food. It was a Saturday morning when the fun began. The game of the day…
Read →When May told you that I was in a bad mood after the stoppage in the tunnel she forgot to mention that I was so upset that I checked and tested everything on the boat. I left the tools on the bank. Now arriving at Weedon with the prospect of better things you'll appreciate that discovering that the tools still lay neatly beside the towpath where I had put them was a blow to my system. May is right, I am very proud of my fine engine but its no good without the tools to maintain it. Some people are worse in a crisis than in the steady run of life. That's how it is with me. "Now. That's when we've got to go back." "They'll still be there in a month, nobody walks along a dead end path to a tunnel." "I've lived…
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All stories belong to their authors.
Contact: Sae.