Experiences #2

I went shopping today. I don’t do that real often, at least not the cruise–the–mall, visit–every–store kind of shopping. But today I needed to buy some clothes so I found myself in a mall. There was a sale going on and I wanted to get a couple of blouses and a skirt that had been advertised, so I first went to get them, but when I got to the car with my purchases I decided there was no reason to head for home and I might as well take a wander around.
I must have spent an hour or so wandering up and down the mall, checking out different stores and finally stopping to get a cup of coffee. For a while I just sat and watched the people go by, wondering about their stories and making up stories to go with their clothes, expressions or purchases. I finally decided that I wanted to check out the bookstore right across the aisle, so I headed out.
Bookstores are dangerous places. I love reading and can easily get caught up in browsing and before I knew it, a clerk telling me that it was 7:50 and that the mall closed at 8:00 on Monday nights approached me. She wanted to know if I was going to buy anything and I declined and headed for the door, but I hadn’t taken more than a couple of steps when I realized I had a serious problem. My traitorous kidneys had been working away all the time I was engrossed in browsing the books and it had suddenly become apparent that I was suffering from a seriously over–full bladder!
Unfortunately, the restrooms were way down at the other end of the mall, and the place was looking pretty deserted, so I decided I could make it to my car and that I would go somewhere to eat and could pee there – probably not the best decision I’ve made all week! As I walked toward the exit my steps were getting smaller and smaller. It seemed like every step was increasing the pressure inside me. In just a few hundred feet I had gone from “I think I had better pee soon,” to “Oh, shit!”
Finally I got to the exit and went to push the door open. This mall has rather heavy doors that are somewhat hard to open. You don’t have to be a weightlifter, but they take a bit of effort. Unfortunately for me my bladder condition wasn’t ideal for exerting any effort at all. When I pushed against that door I knew instantly that I had a problem. That small exertion momentarily overcame my tightly clenched sphincter and I felt a small squirt into my panties.
I froze and clamped my legs together. It took a tremendous effort, but I managed to gain control. I took a couple of steps through the door and then gingerly sat down on a bench just outside the door. A few moments with my deep breathing exercises enabled me to get things under control, but I was definitely in need of a bathroom – and quick! I decided I would just head back into the mall and use the bathroom there, but when I got to the door it had already been locked. Now I was about ready to cry, this wasn’t a sexy game, I was standing in front of a mall confronted with a huge parking lot with no hiding places and a desperate need to pee. I don’t like being desperate, and I certainly don’t like the idea of public desperation. There isn’t even the slightest bit of exhibitionist in me, but I was in trouble now.
“Ok, girl,” I said to myself. “Back to plan ‘A’, go to the car and find a restaurant nearby.” No sooner said than implemented, I just didn’t have time to dither about it. Now I was cursing the decision to park on the very edge of the parking lot. At the time I’d thought that the walking would be good for me, now it looked like forever across that lot. I didn’t want anyone to notice the condition I was in, so I tried to walk casually, pausing every few steps to make sure I could retain control, but it was getting harder all the time. My bladder felt like a basketball against the waistband of my skirt, and I could feel cold sweat on my forehead from the effort of holding back the flood.
Finally I was within a dozen yards of the car. I stopped and rummaged around in my bag for my keys while I struggled for control. I didn’t exactly sprint to the car when I pressed the remote lock button, but it was a pretty fast hobble! After what seemed like a mile I fetched up against the car and just held on, breathing hard and fighting to hold it in. I now know where the expression “my back teeth are floating” comes from. I’m not sure what the connection is, but it felt like my mouth was awash in saliva, it really did feel like my back teeth were floating! With a long breath I was able to step back from the car and open the door. Without even thinking I started to get into the car, but disaster intervened. The act of twisting and bending to get in put way too much pressure on that poor, tired bladder. This time it wasn’t a small squirt, but enough that the crotch of my panties was soaked, totally. I stiffened up totally and stopped it at the one squirt, but I knew I was in trouble. At that I really did cry, not just because of the situation, but because it hurt. I literally had to pee so badly that I thought I was doing myself harm. Tears on my cheeks, I looked around to see if anyone had noticed. It gradually dawned on me that the lot was virtually empty and there was no one anywhere nearby. That– combined with the realization that drops were steadily leaking past my clenched muscles, inspired me to a new plan.
“Screw it, you’ve seen the pictures, just do it.” I told myself and straightened up between the car and the open door. I spread my legs well apart, thankful that I was wearing a skirt, and quit fighting. For a moment nothing happened, just long enough for me to think, “Oh shit! It’s not going to work.” Then the floodgate opened. Instantly the crotch of my panties overflowed and a steady stream poured down and splattered against the tarmac.
I could feel my cotton panties wicking the moisture up my butt and an occasional trickle down my legs, but mostly I felt the incredible relief at finally being able to stop fighting to hold it back. The relief was so great I was actually light–headed and for a moment thought I was going to faint.
But at last the stream slowed and finally stopped so that I could take stock. There was a huge puddle under me running beneath the car and for several yards on the other side. The big thing, however, was that my panties were almost completely soaked, there were several wet streaks down my nylon–clad legs, and my shoes were well splattered. Several minutes passed while I considered my situation. There was no way that I could sit in the car with those wet panties on, and the light evening breeze was making them feel awfully cold, so eventually I did the only thing possible, after a good look around for witnesses I reached under my skirt and wiggled both panties and nylons down. As soon as my butt was clear I ducked into the car and finished stripping them off my legs with the door closed. It was a great relief to drop the soaked items on the floor and finally be able to start the car and get out of there. It somehow didn’t seem appropriate to go to a restaurant any more, so instead I just headed out of town toward home, just glad I had escaped without anyone witnessing my accident.
Postscript:
I am 33 years old and have always had a bit of a “tiny tank,” but this is the only time I have ever been caught like that where I just kept getting more and more desperate without any options. If you are turned on by desperation, have a ball with this story, but for me it wasn’t the slightest bit sexy. On the other hand, writing about it was a bit of a turn–on, so maybe I’m just more messed up than usual. I’m just glad there weren’t any witnesses and that I was wearing a skirt!
Once again, thanks for reading and feel free to drop me a line!
Janis ( Email welcome… just click on the name )