Basildon

This true story happened to me in October 1999 while in Basildon, England.
I traveled to a small village in Basildon. The purpose of this visit was to film someone as they left a building on my camcorder. Fortunately for me, the building in question was about 50 yards from a railway station, so I knew I could sit and wait at the station without looking suspicious. I arrived at the village around lunchtime, which gave me a couple of hours to kill. I was wearing black jeans, a red sweater and new trainers, and as this is England, I had my coat on, too. I wasn’t prepared for the fact this was only a tiny village and not much was in it. I decided to take a walk around and see some of the next village when I passed a little pub. To kill time I went inside and had a couple of diet cokes and a salad roll and then had yet another diet coke. I decided that it was time to make my way back to the railway station. I could feel a slight urge to pee but I ignored it, figuring that I would go back at the station. By the time I actually got to the station I needed to go rather badly but tried to ignore the urgent signals my bladder was giving out. There were a few people at the station. When I asked where the nearest toilets were all I got was a mumbled reply that there weren’t any nearby. By now the urge was increasing by the second and it occurred to me that I might not be able to wait. I thought about walking back to that little pub but I knew that I didn’t have time to walk there and back before the people in the building were due to leave. I had traveled a long way to get this film footage and it was very important to me, I couldn’t screw it up so I had to hold on. It was only another 20 minutes until they came out, so hoped I could wait. I found myself pacing up and down the platform– had it been empty I would’ve squatted down there and then, but for a small village, Pitsea station was surprisingly busy. So there was me, frantically pacing up and down the platform keeping one eye on the clock and one eye open for any chance I might have to squat down for some very badly needed relief. After 20 minutes of frantic pacing, crossing and uncrossing my legs, holding myself while I hoped that no one was looking, then sitting on the platform seat before quickly realizing that wasn’t a good idea. I jumped up as the people began to leave the building and got my camcorder out quickly, filming what I was there to film, while the excitement of who I was seeing coupled with the growing desperation in my bursting bladder was just too much. I felt a warm trickle run down my legs but there was honestly and truly nothing I could do about it, helpless to react as the warm wet liquid soaked the crotch of my black jeans. In seconds it had soaked both of my legs and left me standing in a huge puddle, with an immense feeling of relief. The arousing effect it had on me was totally indescribable, once one my way home alone on the train I rubbed myself to a mind blowing orgasm so powerful I could still feel the echoes of it long afterwards.
Debra