Finding Opportunities

Juliana crossed her legs again and ordered another caffe latte. She was frankly, ready to burst, but wanted to stretch the moment for as long as she could. The thrill of being in a strange town, where she could do whatever she wanted. She was dressed in a blue cotton skirt and a red t–shirt. There were other garments in her large handbag. She drank her coffee and paid her bill, then walked in the direction of the square. Her long black hair reached almost to her waist; and below her waistline the contour of her panties was visible. She preferred full–size, as everything went straight through thongs, leaving no more than a sneeze–stain. She had lived in this country for fifteen of her twenty–three years, but you couldn’t tell. Especially when she chose to speak her native language only. She slowed her pace, starting to look for someone who could help her. Or not. She knew well where the public toilets were and they were not here. So this was a good place to start. She picked two girls about her own age, one wearing jeans and the other white exercise pants, waved, and hobbled across in obvious discomfort. –Excuse me– she said in what seemed incomprehensible to the two girls, –where can I find a rest room?
The girls shook their heads and lifted their palms. She looked pleadingly at them and said, in a language only she of the three understood, –Please help me, I am going to pee my pants. The girls looked helpfully at her. She bit her lip, held her hands in front of her, and curtsied. –Please (this in very broken English) toilet!
They stared understandingly at her. –Oh, toilet! Sorry, you have to go across the square down the second street, about two hundred and fifty yards to the left, and … The girl who had spoken let her voice trail off as she realized she didn’t understand a word. Juliana was trembling, both from need and from the thrill. She saw one of the girls cross her denim legs out of sympathy. Juliana clenched her thighs and held her belly.
— Oh God, the white pants girl, said, –I think she’s about to lose it. We have to help her.
— Of course. What if she wets herself right here? She’s making me have to hold it, too!
— I know. Okay. Toilet?
Juliana nodded eagerly.
— Over square, she pointed.
Juliana nodded.
— Second Street.
— Secone steesh?
The girls exchanged glances. –Come on, the jeans girl said. –We show. God, I need the loo myself.
Juliana did not have to fake the difficulty of walking. And she knew her throbbing excitement was indistinguishable from the fear she had to fake. A strong urge to let go made her stop and cross her legs, and look at her companions with what looked like desperation, but in fact was pure desire. She regained her composure, and they walked on. The two girls tried to comfort her by pointing, smiling and occasionally holding her arm, all while chatting about the awful situation of being abroad, helpless and needing to pee. Working hard to keep a confused expression she looked from one to the other, taking in the curves of breasts, the exposed bellies, the roundness of butts, the visible thongs. Juliana let out a small squirt, feeling the heat spread in her crotch. She stopped, putting a hand to her mouth. There were drops on the pavement and something was finding her way down her leg.
— God, she’s peeing herself, the white pants girl whispered. –What can we do?
— She won’t make it to the loos, said the jeans girl, unconsciously crossing her own legs. –Isn’t there a back alley right over there? I think I’ve peed there once myself.
Juliana was holding her skirt in front, as if to keep it out of way. Another leak warmed her crotch. –Plees? Toolet?
The jeans girl took her arm. –Come on. Emergency ward.
Juliana walked with small, hurried steps, her high heels not easing the way. The two girls led her down a narrow street, and then turned into a small alley between two buildings. –Just go here, the white pants girl said.
Juliana pretended not to understand, and looked desperately around, as if searching for a sign or a door, but seeing only a trash container. She lifted the front of her skirt even higher, exposing a small triangle of wet cotton between two clenched thighs. She could see the two girls sneak short glances and she deliberately let go a little.
— All right, the jeans girl said, –I’ll have to show her. She pulled Juliana with her behind the container, unzipped her own jeans, pulled down her panties and squatted. She looked encouragingly at Juliana, who finally got the point, lifted her skirt and sat on her heels. She kept her eyes locked with the jeans girl as they both let it flow. She could see the other girl’s eyes widen as she noticed Juliana had not removed her panties.
Juliana let the last drop out in her panties and rose with a thankful smile. She would really have liked to thank the two girls for their help, and their unwitting contribution to her pleasure. She knew the image of the jeans girl crossing her legs and then squat to pee right in front of her would stay in her mind. And maybe the girl would think about the foreign girl who wet her panties. Maybe both she and the other girl would share some peeing experience. Juliana smoothed her skirt, nodded her thanks to the two girls, and walked away.
Later she emerged from a small coffee bar, now dressed in black jazz pants that showed the Y of a thong where her curves began. She had changed in the ladies’, without using the facilities, and her skirt and her wet panties were wrapped away in her bag. She was already bursting to go again. The mixture of pain and pleasure, the struggle to hold it and the expected relief, the fear of embarrassing herself and the thrill of wetting, the imagining of other girls being in a similar situation made her heart beat and her breath quicken. She knew her long dark hair, her dark features and her curvy body drew glances from the males around her, but she got her greatest pleasures from fantasizing about girls. Girls with crossed legs and pleading eyes, girls with bent knees and hands in crotches, the expression of surrender as the pee began to flow.
But these girls were scarce. She had had some lucky sightings at fairs and festivals, and she knew of bars and clubs where the restrooms were few and the lines long. But even in the worst predicament most girls kept their faces and held on for that extra time required getting to the loo. If the holding gave them pleasure, they didn’t tell.
So Juliana had to act out her fantasies by herself, either as the confused foreigner, or by joining queues even though she didn’t have to go, just to make the wait longer for the girls behind. Or she put herself in an impossible situation and let whatever go ahead and happen. Living in a big city like this there were areas where she would never encounter anybody who knew her.
She walked briskly, feeling her bladder fill up and grow inside her; she stroked her belly and felt the hardness. Her eyes were taking in the people around her, the girls of all ages and shapes passing, crossing, and walking in front. Imagine those jeans growing dark… Imagine stroking that belly, pressing softly, making her moan and lose control… Imagine those two girls being lovers, dribbling with lust for each other…
Juliana almost let go, and she had to stop and pretend to look in a window. She breathed deeply and walked on, each step a small poke in her bladder. Reaching her goal at last, she turned the corner and walked down the steps to the metro station. One rule of the game was this: She had to get on the first train, regardless of direction. It would mean a fifty–minute journey home, or a longer circling with maybe having to change trains.
She got on, strangely hitting an empty carriage, sat down and let out her breath. She checked the destination and found she was actually on her way home, which disappointed her a little. Juliana closed her eyes and felt her full bladder wanting to release its content in her pants.
She opened them again at the next station when a girl stumbled into her carriage. She was tall and slim, wearing a lacy blouse, a very tight, short skirt, fishnet tights and high heels. She almost caught her heels in the doorway, but managed to cross the aisle and dump down on a seat right across from Juliana. Sitting with her knees together and her feet pointing inwards, she looked up at Juliana with hazy eyes. –Oh hi, she said, her voice slurred.
As the train moved she squirmed uncomfortably on her seat, occasionally holding a balled fist in her lap. She gazed at her watch, then bit her lip and pulled on her skirt. At times her head nodded forwards as if she was falling asleep, her wheat tresses nearly obscuring her face. Although Juliana sympathized with the girl and wished her well, the unmistakable fact that she was dying for a pee turned her on. Putting her bag on her lap she slipped a hand between her legs to feel herself.
The girl managed to focus her eyes, and looked around. –Shit, she whispered. She noticed Juliana, smiled weakly and said hi as if she hadn’t before.
— Are you okay? Juliana asked.
— Not exactly. I’m pissing my pants soon. Shouldna’ had that last cider.
— Do you have far to go?
— Don’ remember. Oh yes six stations more. Or eight. God, I have to piss. Her eyes faded to a far distance and her thighs were moving. Then she sat still and her expression said something was happening. –Shit, she said, and started to get up.
— Are you getting off here? Do you need help?
— Nah. She stood swaying in the aisle, her hands reaching under her skirt. –Shit.
Juliana watched as she tried to pull down her tights, a task made nearly impossible by the mix of drunkenness, the tight skirt and the swaying of the train. To ease the procedure she pulled her skirt up, leaving it in a roll around her waist. Then she got a grip on the nylon and managed to slip her tights down along with her thong. She smiled at Juliana with obvious pride and squatted, the stream hitting the floor before her butt had settled on her heels. With closed eyes she emptied herself, pee running around her high heels. Looking better she rose unsteadily and began pulling her clothes back on. It seemed something caught at the back; she kept fumbling until Juliana offered to help. She turned and let Juliana pull her skirt up from her tights and then smooth it down to cover her bottom– her very lovely bottom. Her very lovely bottom that was a little bit wet from squirting and then peeing in the aisle of the train. Juliana let out a little in her own pants.
The girl turned. –You are nice. Unexpectedly she kissed Juliana on the mouth. –Want a nightcap? The party sucked. Shit, I just pissed, din’I? She looked at the pool on the floor. –When a girl’s gotta, y’know.
Juliana agreed. They were still standing, both girls with curled legs. Juliana saw the other girl look at her, and she had to curtsy to keep her pee back.
— You too, the girl said. –Just do it. I ain’t telling.
Juliana sat down on the edge of the seat, and then wriggled her pants and thong down to mid–thigh. As slowly as she could she opened her sluices, letting her pee flow to the floor and splash her shoes. As the train began to slow she cut off the stream and pulled her pants back up. –Come, she said, – let’s sit away from the puddles in case someone gets on. She took the girl’s hand and led her to the other end of the carriage. They sat side by side, the girl not letting go of her hand.
The train stopped, and they heard people enter behind their backs. They heard somebody comment on the puddles, and the girl squeezed Juliana’s hand. She fished a bottle from her bag and drank. –No worry, she said as she had finished. –Only water. Want some?
Juliana accepted. They sat in silence for quite a while, passing several stations. Eventually the girl looked up. –This is it. Wanna come?
Juliana nodded, and helped the girl to her feet. She swayed a little, looked Juliana in the eyes, and kissed her again. –Shit, you’re nice, she slurred. –God, I’m drunk. Gotta pee again, too.
They stepped onto the platform, and the girl pointed the way. She had her arm around Juliana for support, but even Juliana had a filling bladder that made her want to curl her legs. Outside there was a small green area, and the girl steered them in behind some shrubbery. She put her arms around Juliana’s neck and looked at her. –What’s your name, nice girl?
— Juliana. And yours?
— I’m Tracy. Would you mind very much if I peed myself right now? She didn’t wait for an answer. Juliana could hear the stream as she let go, standing with her feet slightly apart. –That’s the best with skirts, she said. –I can go anywhere. Are you a lesbian?
Juliana smiled at the change of theme. –When I want to. Especially when girls pee their pants right in front of me. Makes me want to do the same.
Tracy let one hand slide down the front of Juliana’s body, touching one nipple, stroking her belly, and then settling between her legs. –Go ahead, then, nice girl. Give us a wee and a kiss.
Juliana leaned forward and met Tracy’s parted lips as she let go in her pants, soaking Tracy’s hand. The warm wee ran down the inside of her legs, and she felt Tracy’s hand rubbing her crotch. She let her saliva dribble into Tracy’s mouth, and she pressed the last drops from her bladder.
Tracy looked at her and smiled. –We better come up to me and change. I feel much better already; maybe we could have a few beers or something?
Juliana nodded. –I’d love to.
They walked on, hands on bottoms.
By: Aquarius