Double Desperation

As shopping sprees went, it hadn’t been a particularly good one. Sarah had found little to interest her, and wished now that she had done something different with her Saturday. True, she had found a few small items of lingerie in J. C. Penny, but not much else. She had consoled herself with lunch at an eatery on the top floor of the mall calling itself the Cottage Garden. It was pretentious and overpriced, but she did enjoy the lasagne and Caesar salad, accompanied by what the proprietors claimed was tea made the proper English way, Earl Grey in a large white tea pot, all to herself.
The highlight of the lunch had been when a handsome guy had asked to share her table. They had chatted, and Sarah had crossed her legs to one side so that he could see them. Quickly realizing that the vent down the left side of her grey dress gave him a view almost to the top of her thigh, and considering this might seem cheap, Sarah soon repositioned herself to make her flirting less obvious. While the conversation was engaging, the guy didn’t ask to see her again, and vaguely disappointed, she resumed browsing the mall with a glum, cynical air. The place was too full of jewellery stores and other useless junk. Why did no one in the retail trade seem to have any imagination?
Bored with the entire place, Sarah she made her way towards the exit. She hesitated just short of the doors, feeling a twinge of discomfort in her bladder. It might be wise, she decided, to use the restroom before departing, especially since she didn’t have her car today (in for repair again). The journey home by bus would probably take forever– it was definitely better to get some relief before starting out.
Checking the mall directory, she found only one location for restrooms. Rather silly for a place this size. Her opinion was justified when she entered the ladies and found a long queue of women waiting to use one of only two stalls. Sarah rolled her eyes and joined the end of the line.
After five minutes it had hardly moved. Since she had arrived, no one had emerged from either stall, and several more women had joined the queue behind her. She noticed that some of those waiting ahead of her were fidgeting, mostly with arms folded and tense expressions. High heels tapped intermittently on the tiled floor. The woman at the front of the line (Sarah judged her to be in her mid–twenties) looked quite frantic, almost running on the spot, and she wondered how long the woman had been waiting.
Suddenly, the woman in question said in a loud, imperative voice, “How much longer are you going to be in there? There are people out here who really need to get in there.”
“Sorry,” came a meek voice from one of the stalls. “I’m not feeling well.”
From the other stall, a deeper voice clearly belonging to an older woman, answered, “You’ll have to wait your turn, just like I did.”
“Thanks very much,” the woman at the front of the line said acidly, and took a few rapid steps away from her place at the head of the queue. She bent double for a moment, spun on her heels and marched back to her position, raising her right knee as soon as she arrived. Then crossed the raised leg in front of the other, tipping her head back to reveal a tortured expression. “Oh God,” she complained to no one in particular, “I can’t last much longer. For God’s sake, please hurry up in there.”
Sarah felt desperate just watching the woman’s antics, worrying that, at this rate, she herself would be in a desperate state before she got into one of the stalls.
Over the next five minutes still more females joined the queue behind Sarah, the line now looking back on itself into the area where sinks stood in a long row again the wall. It would have been better to have more toilets and less sinks, Sarah thought as she listened to an increasing number of the women around her start to complain about how badly they needed to pee.
Finally, one of the two lavatories flushed and the older woman emerged from the left stall. The desperate woman at the front of the queue dashed in, almost knocking the older woman out of the way in her haste. “Well excuse me,” the older woman complained.
“Sorry,” came the other’s tense voice as she slammed the stall door shut. “I’m absolutely bursting.”
Sarah could hear the hasty rustle of clothing as a skirt was raised and panties were lowered. Then came the roar of a powerful jet of pee hitting the water. Over the thunderous sound came a protracted groan of relief. Sarah had started to fidget herself now. This was taking far too long. It was a ridiculous situation – hundreds of shoppers, most of them women, and only one restroom with two stalls. What the hell were the mall owners thinking? She made up her mind that she would lodge a formal complaint about this treatment of customers. Surely it was illegal? Of course, they would do nothing about it. Perhaps she should complain to some government watchdog agency?
The minutes crawled by but the queue shrank to eight ahead of Sarah, but it was still slow going. Still, things might still have been all right but for the woman who came in with a daughter. The girl looked about sixteen, a blonde dressed in a pink sweater and tight jeans. She looked incredibly distraught on seeing the length of the line, and bending over and crossing her legs in a shameless display of desperation, she wailed, “Mom, I’m busting. I can’t wait in line.”
“Well, you’ll just have to. There’s nowhere else.”
“Oh God. I can’t hold it. I can’t! I have to pee right now!”
“Ashley, you are just going to have to wait,” the mother admonished the girl. “Everyone else has got to wait in line.”
“But I can’t,” the girl wailed again. “It’s almost coming out. I gotta go. I just gotta gooo.”
Ashley began to hobble around the room, bending and dancing and unashamedly pressing her hands to her crotch. As the girl hobbled past her, Sarah saw tears in her eyes. Overcome with compassion, she said, “You can go in before me if you like.”
The girl paused for a moment and turned a tortured expression on Sarah. “T–thanks, but I–I can’t hold on.”
“Oh for heaven’s sake Ashley,” the girl’s mother snapped irritably. “What do you expect me to do about it?”
Just then, a toilet flushed and one of the stall doors opened. Ashley looked at the vacant stall with such longer, pursing her lips as she struggled to control herself, clearly hoping the next woman in line would let her go first. When the woman entered the stall and locked the door behind her, Ashley whimpered and tightly crossed her thighs for a moment before resuming her pee dance.
It didn’t last much longer. Less than a minute later, the girl froze and muttered, “Oh no. Oh no.” Sarah saw a dark wet patch expand around the crotch of the girl’s pale blue jeans, spreading rapidly up her bottom and over her inner thighs. The dark area spread rapidly down her legs as Ashley stood there and wet herself, sobbing as her pee ran over her high heels and pooled on the tiled floor around her feet.
“Oh for heaven’s sake, Ashley” the girl’s mother complained. “I can’t take you anywhere without you humiliating me in public. Come on, let’s get you home.”
“I can’t go out there like this,” she girl pleaded.
“Well, now that you’ve disgraced yourself, I don’t see that you have any choice. Unless you want to spend the rest of the afternoon in here, which is certainly something I’m not prepared to do. So come on.”
Miserable, her face scarlet with embarrassment, Ashley allowed herself to be steered out of the restroom by her mother. Sarah caught a final sob of despair from the girl just before the door swung shut behind them. Sarah shifted her weight from her right foot to her left and then back again. God, she was getting desperate too. Just watching the girl relieving herself induced a powerful urge to let go, and Sarah was forced to cross her own legs to combat it. This manoeuvre didn’t help much, alas, and overcome by the frustration of standing still for so long, and no longer at all sure she could wait until her turn came without losing control, Sarah decided to abandon her place in the line. Besides, she had just realized that the bus station would surely have public facilities, and it was only a short walk from here. Ten minutes, no more. At least her legs would be moving which would mitigate the urge to pee somewhat. Walking outside into the warm afternoon air, she chastised herself for not thinking of this alternative sooner.
By the time she approached the bus station Sarah was feeling decidedly uncomfortable. She could feel the weight of her bladder bounce and shift with every step she took. God, it would be a relief to reach the station’s public lavatories. As she drew close to the building and her desire to pee increased (why did that always happen?), she quickened her pace, praying that she could maintain sufficient control to avoid squirting in her panties. Walking along the waiting area where the buses were lined up, most of them unattended and all with their engines running, Sarah saw the sign for the ladies room at the far end of the loading bay. It would be. She dodged around waiting passengers, paying little attention to anything around her, her mind set solely on her need to get to the restroom. It was, therefore, the slightest chance that she happened to notice the number on the front of a bus just backing out from its spot: 49. Wasn’t that her bus? The destination displayed next to the number was Etherton. Yes, that was it. Was the driver leaving early? Torn between completing her journey to the bathroom, and wondering how long she would have to wait for the next 49, Sarah decided on a compromise. She ran out onto the forecourt and waved to the driver to let her board. He obligingly opened the doors, and climbing up on to the bottom step t be heard over the cacophony of rumbling engines, she asked, “When is the next bus to Etherton?”
“This one,” the driver replied with a sardonic smile.
“No, after this?”
“What’s wrong with those one?” he wanted to know with an air of mock–indignation.
“Nothing. I just…”
“It’s all right. Just joking with you, hun. The next one’s in an hour.”
“An hour?” Sarah echoed with dismay.
It was a long time to wait, but her bladder felt really uncomfortable now and she was not sure she could suppress the urge to pee until she got home. When she continued to hesitate, the driver said, “Make up your mind hun. I’m behind my time as it is.”
“Oh, all right,” Sarah said with a resigned sigh, and finished climbing the steps. As she paid her fare, the driver fiddled around with the ticket machine for an unconscionable length of time, and she had to fight hard to resist the urge to dance on the spot. Maybe this had been a mistake. The bus was nearly full and she had to go almost all the way to the back to find an empty seat by the window. As soon as the bus pulled away and gathered speed, she again questioned her wisdom, not only for getting on the bus, but also in selecting a rear seat where the suspension was already bouncing her around. Sitting right over the wheel arch, every time the bus hit a bump of a hole the jolt went right through her, or more importantly through her bladder, making it ache abominably.
The bus soon came to a stop, some passengers departing and others boarding. Within a minute, the remaining seats were all taken. If she had been planning to move to mitigate her discomfort, it was too late now. Literally gritting her teeth, Sarah pressed her knees together and made up her mind to endure it. After all, it was no use thinking about peeing since she wouldn’t be able to do so for at least another half hour. She had to will herself to keep everything under control and not panic. But it was easier said than done. The journey seemed to be taking forever, the bus continually stopping and starting and people taking forever to pay their fares. Sarah also observed with growing consternation that the traffic was unusually heavy, and as the bus approached downtown the reason became apparent. Broadway was closed off because of a parade (she had forgotten all about that), and now all the traffic was being diverted onto what she feared was a highly circuitous and time–consuming route. Shifting around on her seat to angle her body slightly to the side in order to cross her legs, Sarah squeezed her thighs tightly together, concentrating hard on keeping her muscles tight. The man next to her gave her legs a quick appraisal, saw that she had noticed him looking and quickly buried his face in a newspaper. Sarah caught her breath, pursing her lips as the urge to pee suddenly intensified. She really wanted to wiggle her legs around to help her maintain control, but she dare not –– her knee was already very close to the man’s leg, and if she started brushing against him it might be misconstrued. She would just have to make her muscles do double duty. But this too, was easier said than done. Every minute seemed interminable as the bus stopped and started, caught in a long tailback of vehicles, Inwardly, Sarah began to panic. She was really desperate to pee now and not at all sure how much longer she could hold on. She blushed at the very thought of wetting herself on the bus, and recalled poor Ashley’s stricken face as she had been forced to walk in public with pee–soaked jeans. She just wouldn’t let the same thing happen to herself– absolutely not. She told herself sternly that she would just have to wait, whatever it took. But could she really maintain control? She could feel that she was fast approaching her limit, her bladder stretched painfully inside her abdomen. She had no idea how much more pressure it could take before something drastic happened. Was it possible for a bladder to actually burst? She had never considered the possibility before, but now the question was uppermost in her thoughts. Sarah caught her breath as a spurt of pee shot out into her panties. She jolted her body as she fought to clamp off the flow, her knee banging into the man seated beside her. He looked up from his reading and seemed on the point of saying something, but seeing Sarah’s tightly crossed legs, he clearly understood her dilemma. He gave her a knowing little smile and returned to his paper. Sarah felt her cheeks redden. At least I didn’t actually lose it completely, she consoled herself, but if this damned bus doesn’t get a move on, I soon will.
By the time the bus turned into her street, Sarah was no longer able to hold still and sat bobbing her crossed legs up and down. She saw the man next to her give her legs several furtive looks, but she no longer cared that he knew she was bursting to pee. All she wanted was to get off the bus, walking the two hundred yards to her building and ride the elevator up to her apartment. Five more minutes– that’s all she needed– if she could just hold it for five more minutes. As the bus approached her stop, Sarah pulled the cord to alert the driver and turned to the man seated next to her and said, “Excuse me,” is as calm a voice as she could manage, but her voice broke on the second syllable, so great was the strain. The man smiled and rose to let her pass, and as she struggled to retrieve her shopping bags from where they had slithered half way beneath the seat, she sensed that he was staring her clamped–together legs. Without meeting his eyes again, Sarah minced off along the aisle towards the centre doors, praying the bus would not have to wait at the traffic lights half way along the street before reaching her stop. If it did, she feared she might start to wet her dress before she could get off and start her legs moving again. Luck was on her side and the bus took her to her stop without further delay. Sarah moved stiffly down the steps and set her foot onto the sidewalk as gently as she could, desperately trying to avoid jolting herself. As soon as she was clear of the bus, she started to walk quickly towards her apartment. Almost there, she told herself over and over again, gotta hold it, just a bit longer. Ooohhhh, just a little bit longer– really, just a couple more minutes. Oh God, I’m so desperate! She reached the steps leading up to the front door of the building, and making sure she had her key ready, she shuffled to the door with her knees pressed together and hastily inserted the key. It turned. No problems. She stepped inside and was heading for the elevators when she heard someone catch the outer door and enter the lobby behind her. She glanced back and saw the young man from the Country Garden Cafe, the one who had shared he table. Sarah felt a flicker of panic. Had he followed her?
“Hi,” he greeted her cheerfully. “You don’t mean to say you live here too?”
“Yes,” Sarah admitted without really thinking. Virtually all her concentration was dedicated to controlling her sphincter muscles.
“Man, that is so weird. I have an apartment on the eighth floor.”
Sarah almost told him that her apartment was on the tenth floor, and then thought better of it. “Oh,” she responded non–committally, pressing the button to summon one of the elevators. She didn’t have time for this social chitchat at the moment. All she knew was that she absolutely had to get to her apartment without delay or her bladder was going to give up the fight and she was going to piss gallons into her dress and pantyhose. Mercifully, the elevation was quick to arrive. Sarah minced inside and hit the button for the tenth floor. Her newfound companion entered after her and pressed the one for the eighth. The significance of this was not lost on Sarah, who realized she would have to endure her predicament for an extra twenty seconds or so while the elevator stopped to let him off. Why the hell did he have to show up now when she was going out of her mind for a massive piss, and delay her into the bargain by making her spend longer in the elevator when every second was precious? As the elevator began to rise, the man asked, “So, lived here long?”
Before Sarah could answer, a loud grinding noise reverberated in the shaft above them and the elevator ground to an abrupt halt. The violent jolt made Sarah start to pee, and clamping her thighs together in panic she struggled to clamp off the flow once more. For a moment she didn’t think it was going to stop, but she just managed to squeeze it back. Her panties were very wet now, however, a sensation that did nothing to help her stave off the flood.
“Looks like it’s broken down,” her companion remarked, somewhat redundantly. “I’ll call for help,” he added, and flipping open a small door below the array of elevator buttons, he retrieved an emergency phone. He frowned as he listened, pressing the call button. “Hell, I think it’s dead too,” he announced.
“Oh no,” Sarah whimpered, echoing the words uttered by the blonde teenager Ashley just as she started to wet herself in the mall restroom.
“It’s okay. Someone will find us soon,” the man said, misinterpreting Sarah’s concern. But it wasn’t okay. Sarah couldn’t deal with her bulging, aching bladder any longer. Nor did she want to start dancing around in front of this man a futile attempt to hold in her pee. At the very least, help would not come for five or ten minutes, and most likely it would be far longer than that. As if her muscles objected to the prospect of being asked to endure the strain any longer, Sarah felt herself giving way. Pee forced itself between her closed thighs and began streaming down her legs, clearly visible on her white pantyhose. Flattening her hands against her thighs, she looked down and closed her eyes as she felt warm liquid filling her panties and spreading rapidly down the entire length of her legs. She could hear her pee pattering on the floor and feel it running over her exposed toes. She was wetting herself, just like Ashley. All she wanted to do was curl up in a corner and shut out the world, but there was nowhere to hide. Worse still, the man she had fancied over lunch had turned out to be one of her neighbours. How could she want him to ask her out now? How could she ever come to terms with the sheer humiliation of wetting herself in front of him?
It was with no small measure of astonishment that she heard him say, just as she finishing wetting herself, “Man, that is just so sexy. I’ve always wanted to see a women pee herself in public, but I never have…until now.”
Sarah looked up at him through tear–filled eyes and began to sob uncontrollably. Moments later, she felt an arm around her shoulders and a soothing voice in her ear. “You don’t do encores by any chance?” And despite herself, Sarah began to laugh.
By: David North David’s Website: Bound Girls Bursting to Pee