My Small Bladder - Introduction

I have been reading this site for a while now, and to be completely honest, it both reassures me and turns me on that other people get into these situations too! I’ve been having these sorts of problems (and accidents) for as long as I can remember, and my friends and family just don’t seem to get it. I guess I have a small bladder (much smaller than anyone else), and so need to pee a lot.
As I’ve been reading and reading these stories, thought it was about time to give something back. I’m no writer though, so instead of writing long, in–depth stories, I’ve put together a few of my different memories. Trust me, there’s too many to count!
Let me introduce myself first. My name’s Jenny (or Jen), and I’m about 5’3” and now 25. I’ve got quite long blonde hair, medium sized breasts and people tell me I’m attractive, which is good, I guess!
I’ll start with one of my strongest memories; probably because it was one of the first times that I realized I might have slightly less capacity than others my age! It was one of my later days in my last year of high school and we’d had PE (or gym, or whatever you call it) in the morning. We’d been sent on a 3 mile–long run around the local park with our teachers leading the way and handing out bottles of energy drink. I think one of my main problems in school was that I loved the taste of energy drinks, cordial, fizzy drinks– basically, any sort of sweet beverage. Where any other girl would have had a dessert, I’d drink a bottle of coke or something similar. This gave me a slim body, but some other problems to go with it…
I’d been drinking lucozade for the whole trip round the park, and towards the end of the run I started to feel the need to pee. Nothing urgent at all, but the pounding of my feet as I ran were sending jolts through my bladder and making me uncomfortable. I finished the race in the first 25%, which I was happy with, but that meant we had to wait at the finish line and watch all the other girls come in. The slowest ones made it about half an hour after me, by which point my bladder was sending serious signals to me. I crossed my legs high up, which put a bit of pressure on my crotch and helped the need a little. I thought I’d be able to head off and find a toilet somewhere but no sooner than had I thought that the teachers loaded us all back into the coach without any possibility of relieving my struggling bladder. I knew it was only a 15 minute journey back to school, so when I got on the coach I made sure that I was sitting near the front (for a quick exit) and sat on my heel. I don’t know about anyone else, but sitting on your heel is the best way to hold on. It’s what I do when I’m absolutely frantic and have no other options. That wasn’t quite the case here, but it was getting close. There was a girl sitting next to me called Alex. We chatted a bit about our run times and things, but she must have noticed me wriggling around and grinding into my heel because she asked me what was wrong.
“Nothing really,” I replied “I just have to pee so badly!”
“Oh right,” Alex said, seeming to accept my reasoning for the constant squirming. “Sometimes it helps me if I move my legs really fast, like this” she said, demonstrating a rapid marching movement.
I tried it and it did help a little but my legs got tired and soon I was back to the wriggling.
That’s another thing you should know about me. When I have to pee, I just can’t stay still. I wriggle, squirm, bounce, jump, anything to keep my legs and crotch moving. Doing this and putting pressure between my legs are two instinctive hold–it tactics that I’ve used forever. By the time the coach pulled up at school, I was going out of my mind. How was nobody else as desperate to pee as me? I was trying everything that I knew how to do but I still felt seconds from losing control.
Everywhere I looked I saw a possible toilet– behind the coach, amongst the trees, between two of the teachers’ cars. The problem with this was that I was imagining tearing down my knickers and peeing with full force and this was making things so much worse.
“Everybody line up for a register” shouted one of the teachers, a strict but attractive young lady named Miss Hillson.
This was the very last thing that I had in mind. I didn’t want the teachers or other girls to see me holding myself, but was running out of options. I stood in line and pressed my legs very tightly together, the whole time wriggling my pussy up and down, forwards and backwards trying to get as much movement and friction as possible.
I had also reached into my shorts, grabbed the frilly top of my knickers and pulled them up as hard as I could. This gave a mediocre amount of pressure but when the teacher called out my name for the second time (as I’d not been concentrating)and I felt a trickle escape and my knickers got damp. I was losing control. Finally the teachers let us go back to the changing rooms.
They were 50 meters away but it felt like another 3 miles. I was bent slightly over forwards, right hand pulling my knickers up so hard against my pussy that it hurt, left hand clenched into a fist.
“You OK, Jen?” Alex asked as we went through the doors.
“I’m almost peeing myself Alex, I’m sorry” I whimpered. I looked up, the toilets were so close now and the anticipation was almost too much to bear. I leaked again, this time it was a stronger one and so I clasped my right hand into my pussy and grabbed it with all my strength. I was almost there when “Straight into the showers please, girls” was bellowed by Miss Hillson.
I almost cried. I basically ran into the changing rooms and took off my top–clothes. Other girls were being shy about their bodies and trying to cover themselves up but I was way past that. The whole time, I was trying to undress with one hand while the other was gripping my soggy crotch, squirming more than I had ever done before.
I put my ‘holding hand’ inside my knickers so it was pressing on my naked pussy which by now felt very damp. The walk to the showers was a rushed one, but now everyone was naked and trying to hide their pussies and breasts, nobody really looked twice at me holding myself. I could feel my bladder giving up and warm trickles running down my legs and knew that the showers would finish me off. I could only hope that nobody would notice. I was right. As soon as the water touched my skin, no matter how hard I was holding myself, I felt pee shoot into my hand and all down my legs. I kept my hand there so nobody could see the pee coming from me directly and it just kept shooting into my hand, running between my fingers and down my legs. By the time I had finished (only about 20 seconds – small bladder!)I realized that releasing my pee that I’d held for so long had been such a turn–on! I thought about this as I went back to the changing rooms and put on my wet knickers again. As I did so I noticed Alex watching me out the corner of my eye, and wondered why she was still so interested…
It was about this age (18 ish) that I started drinking alcohol with friends at the weekend. Sometimes we’d do it at a friends’ house, sometimes in a pub (if they let us in, which didn’t happen much), but most often, we’d buy some beer or wine from the shop and sit on the beach.
The beach was a brilliant place for me. Firstly, the sand–dunes there created the ideal spot for sitting, drinking and having fun, but also they were a great thing to go and pee behind!
One time, we were at the beach and there was a boy that I really liked there called Tom. Tom was great, funny, attractive and a real life–and–soul–of–the–party sort of guy.
You’ll understand then that when Tom started showing an interest in me, I wanted to hold his attention for as long as possible, even if it meant missing one of my toilet breaks.
It was late one night and Tom offered to walk me home. I didn’t want to seem like a little girl and have to pee before we left, even though I was already pretty desperate. It was only a 10 minute walk back to my house and Tom was showing a real interest. We had walked half the way before I started to get in trouble. Beer makes me pee so often, and I go from needing a pee to absolutely frantic for anywhere to go in about 7 minutes.
That’s exactly what happened half way home. I was wearing a white cotton skirt with a tight–fitting black cashmere jumper and Tom didn’t notice when I reached inside the waistband of my skirt and pulled up my knickers so they were pressing tightly against my pussy. It worked for about a minute or so until I felt a leak coming.
“Why have you stopped?” Tom asked, clearly confused.
“Ooh, no reason,” I replied, having not even realized I’d stopped. I had my legs tightly crossed and was trying to regain composure when Tom took one step towards me and pulled me close and kissed me. It was so amazing to feel Tom kissing me that I momentarily forgot about my holding. One small squirt later and I remembered, grabbed my crotch with my right hand and started wriggling and grinding my pussy as hard as I could.
Tom pulled away. “Are you sure you’re OK?” he asked.
“I have to pee so bad Tom, I’m sorry to let you see me like this!” I replied, too desperate to be fully embarrassed.
“We’re almost there now, come on,” he encouraged.
Tom half–carried me home for the next 2 minutes while I held between my legs with as much force as I could. Somehow I made it home relatively dry.
“Please you have to help me get to the toilet,” I pleaded as we got to my front door. I was prancing and holding and jumping up and down, all the while little spurts were shooting into my knickers.
I tried to find my keys but that involved concentrating on something else and I crossed my legs, wriggled and jumped up and down but I felt it coming. I started to pee myself. I put my hands back on my pussy but no matter how hard I pressed I couldn’t stop the flood. I peed all over my knickers, the part of the skirt I’d been holding myself against, my shoes and the doorstep. After about 20 seconds, I was done and looked up at Tom with embarrassment.
“I’m so sorry, I just couldn’t hold it. I tried so hard but…” my voice trailed off and Tom stepped over my puddle, grabbed me by the waist and gave me the most passionate kiss I’d ever had. I could feel his erection pressing against my wet pussy and felt that familiar post–wetting feeling of being extremely turned on, except this time there was a cock pushing against my knickers.
I rubbed my soaking pussy against his erection and was getting quite close to cumming when Tom pulled away.
With a sexy smile he said “See you tomorrow” and turned and walked down the path.
I reached down and touched my knickers where he’d been seconds before and smiled to myself, turned the key in the door and went inside to wash my clothes.
By: Jenny Wet