The Flight

After reading other peoples confessions I decided to send you mine. So here it is:
Hi, my name is Jenny, I am 28 and now an ex trolley dolly (air hostess). My story starts when I was working for a major UK airline. Our flight was due to depart at 10.30am local time but due to a technical fault in the toilet dump valve. This is the valve that opens to the atmosphere and allows all the waste to be dropped over the ocean on long hall flights. Nowadays this system is illegal and has been replaced by a modern self–contained system. After a two–hour delay we finally boarded the passengers and made them comfortable. During this time I noticed that I needed to pee, after all I had been without a toilet for about 3 hours but as always I ignored the feeling and carried on with my duties. As a rule after about an hour or so people settle down into the flight and stop asking all those silly questions which gives the hostess a little time to look after herself. However, this flight was not one of ease. Every two seconds or so someone would push the attendant button and as well trained hostesses we would walk up and smile and present that patient attitude.
All this time my urge to wee was intensifying, and I knew that if I didn’t go soon I would start wetting my panties. I started to retreat to the rear galley at every possible opportunity, so I could be closer to the loo at the rear of the aircraft. Time and time again as I got close to the loo a passenger would press that bloody button and request something. My bladder was at bursting point, and I knew that if I didn’t g soon I would be having an accident in my uniform. As a rule, and this goes throughout the profession, all hostess’s wear some sort of super absorbent panty liner for just this type of problem, if we didn’t there would be trickles down most of our legs and this would be very visible. In my rush to make the flight from the hotel I had forgotten to add this vital piece of equipment to my lingerie and I was becoming increasingly worried, as the urge to wee was overwhelming.
Just as I had finished serving the complementary drinks, the No. 1 (senior hostess) beckoned to me to start serving the first class with the aperitif. As I walked to the front of the aircraft I passed two sets of loos, god I needed to wee so badly. I eventually got to the forward galley, and by this time I had to press my hand into my crotch to prevent any leaks.
This was certainly not the image of a professional airhostess. I collected a tray full of aperitifs from the storage cupboard and made my way to the first class. As I reached the second row I felt myself wee a little. I could feel the wee enter the double cotton lining of my panties. I squashed my legs together in an attempt to stem the flow, but all that did was squeeze the wee out of the cotton gusset and make it run a little down the top of my legs. During the attempt to stem the flow a fork fell from the tray I was caring and landed under the seat of the passenger opposite. I went cold and instinctively knew that if I bent over to pick up the fork I would not be able to control myself. As this thought passed my mind the No.1 walked passed. “Well pick it girl,” she said. Without hesitation I bent over forward and reached out for the fork and froze as I felt my over full and aching bladder start to relieve itself. Again I squeezed my legs together whilst still in the bent over position but this was a foolish mistake as all this did was direct the force my wee forward and over the waste band of my little tanga’s, I was weeing hard and uncontrollably. I didn’t dare move, the wee pored out not only from the crotch and leg seems of my panties but also over the waste band which in turn ran up my belly and between my breasts wetting my bra, finally poring out from the top of my uniform onto the floor. I was totally humiliated because all the passengers within the first three rows saw what happened. A big fat ugly man sitting to the right and front said with an American accent: “Gee girl, I’ve seen a girl piss her panties before but I’ve not seen it come out the top of her dress, good shootun.”
I could have died, I stood up and as I did so a final gust of wee that had been hiding escaped, I placed my hand into my crotch desperately and by doing so made the wee come through my uniform and through my fingers making it visible to all that I was still weeing. The wee continued down my legs and into my shoes. I turned and walked back to the galley leaving a tell tale trail for all to see. At this point the No. 1 entered the forward galley and saw my distress. She came over with a look of disgust; she placed one of her arms around my shoulder firmly and the other on the hem of my very wet uniform lifting it up revealing my ultra wee stained blue tanga panties. I was shaking that much with fear not knowing what she was going to do or say that I started to wee my panties uncontrollably again right in front of her. At this moment she placed her hand between my legs pushing gently upwards towards the direction of the flow. “There,” she said. “Place your hand here and it will stop, been there done that, get changed and get back to work girl”. I was so amazed at her attitude I just stood there with my hands at my sides and my legs about two inches apart and finished my wee completely, even waiting for a moment for the last few drops to finish with the double cotton crotch of my little blue tanga panties.
Jenny Also