A Cyclist's Discovery

On a warm, calm spring evening, Steph decides to go for a bike ride. There are no good bike trails around her house so she drives to a trail entrance, parks, and takes out her bike. Pushing her long, blonde hair out of view, she gets on and begins to ride. She hasn’t been out for a couple weeks and it feels good. Her athletic, 23–year old body responds well to her vigorous pedalling and she speeds along, aerodynamic in a relatively thick purple cycling bib with a tight long–sleeve purple and black shirt over top.
She remembers that she probably should have gone to the bathroom before leaving, but she thinks that she’ll have to learn to hold her bladder if she wants to do well in serious long–distance races. She coasts over a long flat, forest expanse with the river off to one side, far below an embankment. She arrives at a long hill and starts to build up a sweat, her quads beginning to burn with the steep climb, the river audibly coursing along beneath her. Reaching a brief plateau, she unclips her large water bottle, knowing that she has to stay hydrated, despite the now menacing whirring of the river taunting her bladder. She takes a long drink while coasting and then continues.
She shifts to a standing posture to continue the climb and really focuses on her pedalling, thinking of all the training she has ahead of her. She’s definitely beginning to feel tired and her bladder now has a constant, dull ache. She adjusts her C–cup sports bra to concentrate on anything other than her growing urge. She pauses to consider a brief break to pee, but she doesn’t want to risk being exposed in the forest when she has to take off her one–piece. How far is it to the next populated area? She realizes that she’ll have no choice but to stop as soon as the forest ends. She remembers that it’s one of the longer trail systems, but figures that a bathroom must be near, even though she can’t remember having been on this particular trail before.
She continues to pedal hard and she begins to feel a bit damp with sweat all over, but more so between her legs. She has been trying not to focus on her bladder, but she’s pretty certain that it is just sweat. She waits for a group of three male cyclists to pass her, going in the opposite direction, knowing that they would check her out. She gazes down at her perfect thighs and is surprised to see a small wet patch on her crotch. She reaches her small, tanned hand down to her thigh and confirms that it’s definitely not just sweat. Beginning to panic a bit, decides that she can’t be far from a bathroom, and pedals even harder.
Aches now come in serious waves, and she realizes that she must have drunk two litres of water over the last couple hours. She remembers her junior high science teacher saying that most bladders have a max capacity of one liter and that after that, things just “happen” by reflex. What did he know though– he was wrong about enough other things she later studied at college. Right or wrong, she waited for a female jogger to pass by and was alarmed to see her patch spread as she felt a gush escape. Her face turned bright red as she realized that she was having an accident. She finally crossed into an urban area, which had to have a bathroom, unable to keep her speed up. She saw that it looked busy though, and her purple tights were a visible shade darker in a spreading patch, and her beautiful butt felt soaked. She was still fighting to keep control, but realized that she couldn’t go into the busy shop dripping with pee and would have to try to get back around the looping path to her car… and then home.
This was a disaster– could she make it? She just focused on the pedalling, trying to just get to the car and worry about her embarrassment later. Her urge to pee went away after about ten minutes and she looked down to find that the warm night had made her patch less visible– and it hadn’t moved too far down her thigh! She thought that she might be okay and kept pedalling, thinking that this must happen to serious cyclers all the time– it was barely any pee.
Resuming her quick pace, determined to get back to her sporty blue coupe, she thought of a training schedule and believed she was winning her fight to keep the intermittent pain of her bladder out of mind. She felt a strange tingling sensation in her spine and worried that she was over–exerting herself. Slowing down slightly, she felt the (wonderful) sensation of her legs growing really warm. She looked down in horror to realize that she was peeing her pants uncontrollably. A male cyclist passed by and she heard “whoa!” as he receded into the distance, turning his head to gaze back around at the pretty girl flooding the trail, on the verge of tears.
As a male and female jogging group came into view up ahead, she tried to stop the flow of slightly hissing pee with all her strength. Strangely, she was completely unable to regain control, but realized that the harder she tried to stop, the more she felt… extreme pleasure in her lower body and rising up into her core. Shocked at this strange response and trying not to enjoy it, she focused on regaining control before the joggers ahead. Finally, the gusher began to taper off, but as the joggers came near, she saw the stunned looks on their faces. A trail of pee had been coming off her bike and her tights were completely soaked, her pink and white shoes drenched. She tried to speed up but heard one of the male joggers yell, “are you okay?” after her.
Fortunately, people seemed to disappear from the trail, as she got deeper into the forested area. Her heart was racing and she was stunned. Finally, her thoughts turned to the nearly orgasmic feeling she had while she was trying to regain control, and of the wonderful warmth she felt. She looked down to find that her tights, now semi–transparent, betrayed the outline of her pretty pink thong–like underwear and she couldn’t help realizing that she had to look pretty hot…
She decided that she’d go biking again soon, maybe with her friend Sara, who was home on break from her modelling tour. She remembered kissing Sara the same night that the other blonde looked at her with gorgeous hazel eyes after they’d shared a few drinks and said, “I think I wet my jeans.” Maybe they could explore her new feelings about pee together.
By: Jaxx