Challenging Myself

As some of you may know, I really enjoy frantic desperation– a man’s or mine. Generally I do my monster holds at home as I have never wet myself as an adult and I can’t imagine the public embarrassment. I have often wondered if I am really holding my maximum when I do this, as I know that the toilet and measuring jug are near by when I am home and full.
I decided to do something different today. I went to visit a friend about 300 miles away for the weekend. We had fun but frankly, it was a little boring. So this morning I decided to set a few rules for the trip– no stopping at all– and I must consume 12 oz. of liquid every half an hour. I also knew that as I became more and more desperate the feelings would change and that I would never remember them so I pulled out a notebook and pencil and decided to jot down my bladders progression from relaxed to the final explosion on my long way home. I hope you enjoy these– they are a bit disjointed but I was driving 80 miles an hour towards the end and sure that I was going to flood my car with pee so i wasn’t too grammar focused!
1. 300 miles to go, a large (32oz) diet coke– this counts for my first 3 drinks so I will consume it in the first 1.5 hours to get myself revved up.
2. 250 miles to go, about 75% of the drink is gone, no worries yet.
3. 200 miles to go, all of the diet coke is gone, I have been on the road for 1.5 hours, i was hoping for better time than this but there is traffic. I open my first diet mountain dew (I have a case in the backseat, they aren’t very cold but that’s ok)
4. 150 miles to go, total liquid consumed 52 oz, starting to feel a few awakenings, if I was at work about to enter a meeting I would definitely go empty out with this level of feeling but no real urgency. I chug the rest of this diet dew and open another.
5. 120 miles to go, and 64 oz. consumed. Fullness, not very uncomfortable, some pressure, like an itch you can’t scratch.
6. 76 miles (but who’s counting) to go, and 68 oz. consumed. Pressure constant, walls of bladder are beginning to stretch out, this causing involuntary fidgeting, if anyone saw me, they would know that I need to go. I keep attempting to change position to ease the squeezing sensation. The feeling passes slightly from urgent to constant gentle pushing – like a hand on my shoulder but it is on my bladder.
7. 65 miles to go and 76 oz. consumed. A sign for rest area causes frantic spasm of the whole bladder. My urethra slams shut defensively. Oh it feels like the tide is coming in and the waves are slapping all sides of my bladder. As I squeeze, the vaginal walls contract, causing my nipples to harden.
8. 52 miles to go with 80 oz. consumed. I slide my hand between my legs and press the fabric of my skirt against my clit (I didn’t wear panties because I knew I needed nothing extra working against me). I start to rub back and forth hoping that the sexual tension will ease the now constant ache in my taut bladder. Damn, too many truckers to keep at it. Besides, if I cum– I will go all over myself. I am now forcing myself to keep drinking; even my throat knows that I am beyond capacity.
9. 43 miles to go, and 82 oz. consumed. Speed limit is down to 55 and there are cops everywhere. I am constantly fidgeting, thighs squeezed together– this may not have been a good idea. PC muscles clenched, OHHHH GOD I NEED TO PEE!
10. 30 miles to go, quantity consumed not noted– too full to write much. Sign for last rest area before my house. I am truly frantic. Undid seat belt to ease pressure on my huge bladder. Trying to sit on heel but can’t maneuver in the driver’s seat. OH OH, I almost lost it. Speedometer at 80, uh oh, I must slow down, I cannot get pulled over. Empty Styrofoam cup is taunting me. Maybe I could slide it under my skirt and just let out a little. NO I WILL MAKE IT. At least I hope so; I have to pee so badly! There is a torrent held back.
11. 5 miles to go– last 25 a frantic, twisting blur. Off the hwy now– JESUS red lights everywhere. Desperately, I run one. OH Crap! A funeral procession– I am dying too people– MOVE OUT OF MY WAY. My thighs are quivering. I am not going to make it. I have not wet myself since 1st grade. Quick breaths like Lamaze. I will hold it.
12. Home. Afraid to stand upright– want to run but can only hobble, bent over at the waist. I make it to the bathroom door– grab measure jug– squat and release a massive spray at first, flying everywhere but the jug, then a steady stream as hard and full as a bathtub faucet, I am sweating from the effort. The piss is still spraying a little I just can’t give the stream my normal directional control– 1350 ml plus at least 50 on the floor, wall and my skirt.
Afterwards, I stand up but still find it hard to walk, my muscles have been so strained that my calves and thighs ache. Time to lay down and reward myself for holding on.
By: Holdingon