Any Port in a Storm or Pee Anywhere in an Emergency - Part 1

As many of you will know from my earlier stories, a small bladder such as mine, and coach outings are not a happy combination, and since my early teaching days I have always been wary of school outings in coaches, which seem to have become an end of term tradition, despite all the changes in the education system. As a young teacher, my first school outing became a nightmare of absolute desperation, ending with wet knickers, that, luckily, I managed to keep hidden. My school is no different, and though we try to make some of the outings ‘educational,’ others are purely for fun, and it was one of these fun outings that I volunteered to organise, not because I wanted the extra responsibility, or credit by giving up my time to do something for the school but for the selfish reason that I wanted to be in control of when and where we stopped on the way down to the sea, and thus protect my poor little bladder from un–necessary stress. There was some sort of service area on the main road just over half way and I estimated that with London traffic we would take about 90 minutes to get there, by which time my bladder would be reaching the uncomfortably full, ‘I really do need a loo’ stage. My excuse for arranging this stop, if anyone had thought to ask, would have been that the timing more or less coincided with the normal ‘break–time’ for the children and that some of them might need a loo by then.
(I can remember only too vividly how I suffered as a child on such outings, often being absolutely desperate and too shy to say anything, so I would squirm about with my legs crossed, holding myself, and pray that some grown–up would notice my distress and take me to the toilet. Too often nobody noticed until it was too late and I had either wet my pants or was in tears with desperation and fear of the accident about to happen. I have always been determined that no child in my care should suffer like this if I could do anything to avoid it.)
It would be purely incidental that my tiny bladder would also be expecting, or demanding, a loo by then. While it was not going to be completely impossible for me to hold out all the way to the coast, I would have been reaching ‘desperate’ level by then, not enjoying myself and hardly in the best state to control a bunch of excited children. All I would have been able to think of would be finding the loo I so badly wanted.
Despite having organised the outing to stop at a loo on the way, hopefully before I was too desperate, I took all my normal pre–coach outing precautions that morning. I hardly drank any coffee at breakfast and scarcely touched the cup of tea offered me in the teachers’ common room. Still not trusting my bladder, I made a point of going to the loo at every opportunity before we left. I must have been in the loo at least 5 times that morning before getting on the coach– not because I wanted to go, but because I like to take the chance to drain every last drop of pee out of my body.
On my last two visits to the loo, when I could hardly manage to squeeze two drops of pee out, I notice that Katherine, the other teacher on this outing, a tall, rather thin and austere looking, but smartly dressed lady, coming up to retiring age, so perhaps she was nearly 60, was also in the loo. Maybe she was also afraid of her bladder capacity not being up to the journey? The thought did cross my mind, though she had always seemed so well organised and efficient that I had never before though of her as having a small bladder. (I tend to notice such things. Mainly so that I know who will be looking for a loo when I am.) I had noticed that she had been drinking a mug of black coffee in the staff–room, when I had been refusing tea, and it occurred to me that nobody sensible would drink black coffee before an outing if they had any reason to suspect that their bladder was not going to be big enough to last the complete trip.
We did not say anything then when we met in the loo, nor did we say anything as we sat together on the coach. What could I say to her? “I hope my bladder can last out this trip, if there are any delays I might be struggling.” What an admission as it was only going to be a two–hour journey, and I was not going to admit that I was worried that I might be bursting in so short a time, even if it would probably be true.
Well, it was true. I wanted to pee quite badly after not much longer than an hour, despite all my precautions, and less than ten minutes later I was sitting on my heel to ease the strain on my bladder and to help me wait the half hour until we stopped. I was eagerly thinking that the stop was due soon, when the deputy head, Julia Davies, who had decided at the last minute to come on the outing, came down the coach to speak to me, after she had been talking to the driver.
“We are running a bit behind your schedule,” she said to me,” so I think it’s best if we skip this ‘rest stop’ you have planned. I’ve told the driver and as he does not need fuel or anything, we do not need to stop. It’s not a good idea to set targets or schedules that you cannot keep. Targets are important and it encourages a sloppy attitude if we ignore them.”
I was absolutely dumbfounded and could not think of a suitable reply to this. How dare she interfere with my outing plans! I was tempted to tell her that the ‘primary target’ of the day was not the timing schedule, but that nobody, particularly me, suffered ‘Acute Toilet Deprivation.’
I do not have much time for all the target setting of modern education, particularly when it was keeping me from the loo visit I most definitely needed! I had never set other than a rough estimate of timings to show how we would get along. Anyway it was not up to the driver to say if we needed a stop. I most certainly needed to stop (for a loo!) and rather selfishly, I wished that Julia could also be suffering from ‘Acute Toilet Deprivation’ and wanted to pee very badly as well. After her interference it would only have been justice if she wanted to go. No such luck! As normal it was only poor Nicola that had to suffer ‘Acute Toilet Deprivation’ and struggle with her small and bursting bladder.
I could not say that a stop was becoming essential for anyone, (not even me,) that morning, but it was going to be an important factor for my comfort on the remaining journey, and it would be better for my image as a teacher if, when we arrived at the coast, I was not hopping about with my legs crossed, desperately looking for a ladies’.
I was still thinking of what, if anything, to say to Julia about the taking away my only chance of a pee on the journey when Katherine said to me: “That was a bit ‘out of order’ interfering with your schedule in such a high–handed manner. Don’t you think that it might have been a good idea to have a stop now?”
I tried to make light of Julia’s interference, not wanting to admit that I very much wanteed to stop, or to be exact, to GO, and wondering if maybe Katherine was also be having bladder problems and perhaps even wanting a loo as much as I was.
This made me take more notice of her; she was sitting with her legs tightly crossed, just as a lady would if she was dying to go to the loo. I had never thought of her as having a small bladder, but either she had been extravagant with the coffee that morning, or her bladder was not much better than mine. I had seen her drinking more than one mug of black coffee in the staff–room before we left, and I knew only too well what coffee could do to my bladder.
Still not wanting to confess to having an unusually small bladder, I casually replied, “If there are any on this coach who want to stop for a few minutes, I do not think Julia is one and it seems she does not care about anything except this mythical target, which I have never set.”
I carefully made no reference to the fact that two of the teachers might also rather want to stop as well. I was bursting for a loo, and I suspected that Katherine was in a similar state. Well thanks to Julia and her obsessive attitude to ‘targets,’ we were going to have to wait quite bit longer and at least one teacher would be nearing ‘desperate’ before we reached a loo.
Just while I was thinking this, we were coming up to the service area that I had planned to stop at, and, as my poor bladder was bursting and starting to hurt, I gave some serious thought to ignoring Julia, and telling the driver to stop as I had originally planned. Unfortunately I had no serious reason (well my bladder condition was becoming serious) to confront Julia like this, which would have caused a lot of trouble and I could only have justified it by telling her about my problems with a small bladder, and that was not something I wanted to boast about.
Perhaps I should have made more of a fuss about stopping, because as I looked longingly at the services (and loos) we were passing by, Katherine squirmed in her seat, and looked to me as if she was crossing her legs even tighter.
(Of course, she could have spoken up and asked for a stop, which I do not think would have been denied her, but I suppose she was as reluctant as me to admit to a lack of bladder capacity. Why? We all need to pee, some of us more often than others, but convention is that we all have to pretend we do not want to go. It would have been perfectly reasonable and normal for either Katherine or me to have owned up and said “ I really would like to stop here, just for a few minutes to use the Ladies’,” and nobody would have made a big issue of it. We would have stopped and all lived comfortably ever after. But no, we both wanted to go and neither of us said anything so we had to wait, and suffer. Serves us right! You could say, except those of you who would enjoy hearing about two ladies dying for a loo.)
I did not need any further reminder of loos, particularly ladies’ loos, and had to squirm about myself, not so much to cross my legs, but to push down on my heel and get it to press harder into me and hold back the more urgent need to pee that this thought of loos had brought on. Katherine still had her legs twisted together tightly, and had an anxious, perhaps strained expression, tensely biting her lower lip, in the classic manner. It looked as if Katherine really did want to pee rather badly, and I wished she had had the courage that I lacked, to say that she wanted to stop at that service area. However it was now too late for that and we both had to hold on until we reached the coast, about another 45 minutes, in my estimation. I thought that this was going to be an uncomfortably long time, and wished there was something I could do to make the time pass quickly.
The traffic got worse as we go near the coast. Before we were anywhere near our destination, I was simply dying for a loo and counting the minutes until we reached our destination and the loo I wanted so badly. Looking back on that day, I think that Katherine was almost as desperate as I was. I remember her keeping her legs tightly crossed and looking worried every time the traffic slowed us down. There is no doubt in my mind, now, that she was bursting, simply dying for a loo, but at the time I was so concerned with my own desperation that I hardly cared what state she was in. Unless, of course, she had been so desperate that she had had to demand a loo stop, when I could have gone too, and this story ended right then.
My chief worry I was that when I got off the coach, I would naturally be required to stand up and walk. Once I did not have comforting pressure from my heel between my legs, (the equivalent of holding myself!) I was going to want a loo very urgently, and it as going to be essential for me to find a Ladies’ as quickly as possible. I was still too proud to say anything, and this was a mistake on my part. As we got nearer the sea front, our stopping point, I was getting more and more desperate, and worried, as I was beginning to think I might not be able to wait until our destination. I was trying to get into a position where I could really press my heel hard between my legs, more or less the equivalent of holding myself with both hands.
Was I desperate? Yes, very much! I was near to panic, and I was thinking that I might be able to hold on for another five minutes, but not much longer, and I really did not know what I was going to do if I could not get to a loo by then. There really was not going to be any chance of getting to a loo until we reached the sea front, but what if I could no wait that long? I had to wait, I told myself. Somehow, I simply had to make myself wait. That is so easy to write, but that morning it was going to be so difficult to achieve. If only I knew how to “make myself wait” I would, but even though I was doing everything I knew to “make myself wait” I was nearing the awful moment when I could not wait any longer, and would have to find somewhere to pee. Where? It might have to be by the side of the road, or in the coach, on the floor or on the seat, or it might be in my knickers.
Kathy, who turned to me and said in a quiet, confidential manner, “Nicola, I really do need to find a loo just as soon as we stop,” interrupted my thoughts. “Can I leave you to take care of organizing the children while I make a dash for the Ladies’?”
What could I say to that? The state I was in it was going to be essential that she would cover for me while I looked for the Ladies’, only now she was asking me to let her go first. What I should have told her was: “Sorry but I don’t think I can help you. I’m desperate, and I have bursting been for ages now and I really must get to a loo quickly as I will be struggling to hold out once I am standing up.” But I did not have the courage to say that; all I could do was to say weakly, “OK, but perhaps some of the children will be wanting to go as well, so it will be a good idea to find the loos as soon as we get off the coach. Hopefully we will stop near some public loos.”
This was only common sense on a school outing, and all I was doing was to give her an excuse to go looking for a loo. My main hope was that she would find one quickly, as I was going to be in dire need of a pee if I had to stand about too long. The state I was in, any time was going to be nearly too long.
“Thanks very much,” replied Katherine. She looked as if she really needed a loo. She was sitting, with her legs knotted and hands pressing in her lap, a tense worried expression on her face; if she had been a child I would have been seriously worried that an ‘accident’ was about to happen. In my private world of desperation I had not been able to think of anything except holding back my pee, and I had not noticed how Kathy was sitting. In fact everything about her body language screamed “I’m Desperate! I must have a pee;” reflecting my feelings precisely. I squirmed down harder on my heel and hoped, for both our sakes, that the coach would stop soon, and near a Ladies’ loo.
Of course nothing is ever that simple, particularly when your bladder is bursting, screaming for relief, and the coach could only stop at a ‘setting down’ point, which as I stood with my legs tightly crossed guiding the children out of the coach, seemed to have no facilities for teachers desperately in need of a loo. As I had expected, I was desperately wanting a loo now I was standing up instead of sitting down on my foot with my heel pressing very hard between my legs.
It was no consolation to see that I was not the only person urgently needing a loo. Katherine was standing with her legs crossed, looking very tense and stressed, and was talking to some traffic warden who had come to check we had not stopped on a yellow line. She seemed to be giving Katherine directions and was pointing further along the sea front. Since Katherine was making no attempt to help me control the children, I hoped she was doing something useful and finding out where the nearest loo was.
I had more or less got the children lined up on the pavement and told them not to leave anything on the coach as it was going off to a coach park until we were ready to leave. Rather diffidently, Katherine came up to me and said in a confidential manner, “That parking attendant tells me there is a ladies’ loo just down the road; I simply must get there straight away, it’s becoming rather important now. Can you manage with the children for a bit, I’ll be back as soon as I can?”
I was furious at this high handed way she seemed to think that she was the only person who needed a pee, but that might have been my own fault, because I hoped that I had kept my own desperation hidden, and still, even though I was twisting my legs very tightly to keep control, I was not prepared to admit to being ‘dying’ or ‘bursting.’ I must admit that Katherine looked in a bad way. She was twisting her legs together and hopping from foot to foot like, well, a little girl about to wet her knickers.
I must admit that later the thought crossed my mind as to how ridiculous that situation was. Two so called responsible adults, teachers, who might be expected to know better, both absolutely dying to go to the loo, and neither prepared to admit how badly they wanted to go, and even more stupidly, another, more senior teacher, who (most probably) did not want to go at all, doing nothing to help either in their plight, mainly because the two were too ashamed to admit they really did need to get to a loo quickly.
I did not dwell on the stupidity of the situation, as I was in a pretty desperate state myself. I had an intense, urgent need to pee, that I was having to fight to control, and I was twisting my legs together as tightly as I could without ‘winding round’ or bending forward, or otherwise making a great exhibition of myself; at the same time I was pressing my thighs together as hard as I could, and ‘clenching myself shut inside,’ you know what I mean; making a great effort to hold back my pee and keep my bladder shut, an almost impossible task now I had been standing about for what seemed an age and every second it felt as if my pee was creeping nearer and nearer to my ‘outlet’ and would be leaking out into my knickers, bringing the awful moment when “Miss Steele is wetting herself! Look at her jeans between her legs, she’s going pee in them!” would be the whisper on every one of my pupils’ lips. Miss Steele would never be able to live it down and she would always be known as ‘the teacher who wet herself on the school outing.’ This horrifying thought gave me the extra strength, born of sheer desperation, to somehow just hold back my pee, for long enough, I hoped, to get to the ladies.
To make the situation worse, Katherine’s need for a loo also seemed to have gotten worse, and as I struggled to keep control of both my bladder and my pupils, she hobbled, literally walking on tiptoe with her legs pressed together, towards me and in a very stressed voice she whispered: “I’m sorry, Nicola, but I really must leave you for a minute, I’m afraid it’s become a bit of an emergency!”
With that she seemed to abandon all pretence of normal behaviour and half doubled forward and with one hand pressing on the front of her skirt, (probably that is what she hoped I thought she was doing, but to me it looked very much as if she was holding, or pressing, between her legs in the way that would have got her a reprimand if she had been a pupil and not a teacher.)
It looked very clear to me that it had become a real emergency for her to get to the ladies. With hindsight, now I can think clearly about it, I suspect that she was, or thought she was, on the brink of losing control and wetting her knickers, and in her panic would have been prepared to do almost anything to stop that. Even if it made everyone clearly aware that she was nearly wetting herself. What a terrible thing for a responsible adult teacher to have to do; openly holding herself in public, admitting that she was so desperate for a loo that she was in real danger of wetting herself.
Meanwhile I was trying everything I knew to control my bladder and wait, which was taking almost every ounce of my bladder control strength. I had been so confident that we would stop at a loo on the journey I was wearing jeans that day, far more practical for spending time on the beach, but not for being so desperate that I was nearly wetting myself. (Most ladies will know that wearing a skirt allows minor bladder leaks to go un–noticed. Not, of course, that I had any intention of leaking that day, it’s just that I wanted to pee so badly that I was scared that I would not be able to hold the pressure in my bladder, and a leak seemed an awful possibility.
I had no illusions about my bladder control, as in similar, but not so public, situations I had sometimes ended up with wet, or damp, knickers. So I was caught in an ‘emergency situation’ desperately wanting to pee, and what could I do? Wait! Teachers are adults, so what was difficult about that? Cross my legs and squeeze myself shut and hold in my pee. All my life I had been doing that, (with limited success, I am sorry to admit) so often, so there was no reason to expect to be excused from having to wait then, just because there wasn’t a loo in sight and my associate also wanted to go rather badly.
Resigned to my fate, I pressed my legs together as tightly as I could, while pretending to stand normally and trying to act and sound as casual as I could, smiled understandingly at Katherine and said, “O.K. If you really have to go,” and then trying to make the best of the situation, I continued, “Probably a good idea to find the public loos now, some of the children might want to go later.” ‘And one of the teachers wants to go NOW!’ I nearly added, as the thought of a public loo suddenly made me want to go very urgently.
“The traffic warden says there is one just down the road on the right,” Katherine informed me. So she had been asking about a loo. She definitely wanted to go very badly. Still almost holding herself, Katherine hobbled off along the road towards a small windowless brick building on the right of the road– a public loo if I knew anything about such things. Katherine must have been almost frantic for a pee, because now she had her back to us, she was very obviously, to my eyes at least, holding between her legs, and she was walking faster than normal. Almost running in fact. She must have been desperate! I could have felt quite sorry for her if I had not wanted to go so badly.
While concentrating on controlling the children, I tried to keep at least half an eye on Katherine’s progress and enviously watched her disappear round the side of the building, only to re–appear almost immediately, still very obviously holding herself, and literally run across the road. There was a line of parked cars along that side of the road and I thought she had tripped up, as she seemed to hesitate and then disappear between two cars, appearing a bit later, looking flustered and straightening her skirt.
Still looking flustered she rejoined us by the coach.
“The loos are closed, vandalized,” she whispered to me. “Oh no!” I replied, wincing, just managing to stop myself adding, “Oh shit! F…g vandals! I’ve simply got to have a pee soon, or I’ll be wetting my pants!” Or something similarly un–ladylike, as my chance of the pee I so badly wanted vanished right then. Then I realized that Katherine was no longer acting frantic; the loos were shut, but she didn’t want to pee, or at least she was managing to behave as if she did not. The answer was obvious, but it took me a moment to work it out. She must have crouched for a pee between the parked cars, right in the street! It seemed such a preposterous thing for her to have done, that I could hardly believe it.
Talk about being desperate? She must have been literally wetting herself to risk squatting in so open a place. I have chanced a squat in some pretty public places in my desperate moments, but I would never have though of going between parked cars on a sea–front road with my school party near–by. She had been holding herself, so there was no doubt as to how badly she had wanted to go, and I imagine that if I had been as desperate, I would have been willing to go almost anywhere. Wistfully I looked along the road and wondered if there was any chance of my using the same place? Lord knows I wanted to pee so badly I was going to have to hold myself or sit on my foot pretty soon, and I could not see any other chance of finding a place to pee.
Silently I cursed Katherine for telling me the loos were closed. If she had not, I could have asked her to take over with the children while I went, and even if they were closed there would have been a chance of a pee in the doorway, where perhaps there was enough shelter for ‘a small one’ to squat down. Or, I was that desperate, I might have been able to use the gents’, or if all else failed there was still the parked cars. Literally I was thinking that anywhere would be better than wetting my knickers and I was reaching the point when I was not going to be able to wait much longer.
It was now becoming a full–blown emergency for me and thinking about loos was making it worse. A sudden surge of urgency almost caught me out and in panic I had to press between my legs, and it felt as if I just, and only just, managed to stop a spurt of pee as it was about to come out. I was so close I did not care if I was seen holding myself, even that was better than the alternative; a big wet spot on my jeans!
I was still hoping there might be somewhere I could go to the loo, a pub, a shop, a garage, even some bushes, anywhere I could pee before I wet myself, when, Julia (the cause of all my troubles!) took charge again, and suggested that as the children were organised, we should move, and that she thought the beach across the road, looked ‘safe and suitable’ for the children to play on. ‘Safe and Suitable.’ Did it have a Ladies’ loo?? I would have much preferred sharks and quicksand so long as it had a Ladies’ loo, but as Julia seemed determined to torture my poor, bursting bladder as much as she could, I had to agree with her and lead the children across the road onto the beach.
The children had come prepared with towels and bathing suits, and as they amused themselves on the beach, I had my own problems to worry about. I sat down on the wall overlooking the beach, and tried to make myself more comfortable by crossing my legs as tightly as I could; that had to be as tightly as was humanly possible, almost tying myself in a knot! I was desperate and willing to do anything to help me wait. This did not help me very much; I was frantic for a pee and struggling to control my bursting bladder. I thought of sitting on my heel again, but walking on the beach had got my shoes wet and dirty and any heel sitting was going to transfer this wet and dirt onto my jeans, right between my legs and make it look as if I had wet myself even if I had not. All I could do was to cross my legs, and cross them so tightly that no pee could leak out; just about impossible with the state my bladder was in at that moment.
It was the most awful situation you could have thought up if you had wanted to torture my bladder to the limit. I wanted to pee most desperately: it felt as if pee was creeping nearer my ‘outlet’ every second, and unless I could do something to hold it back, then I would soon be wetting myself. In normal circumstances I would have been sitting on my heel, but with wet and dirty shoes from the beach, doing that would have given me a conspicuous wet and dirty mark on the crotch of my jean. The conundrum was that if I didn’t sit on my heel I would not be able to hold back my pee, so I would have a wet crotch on my jeans anyway.
Frantic, I had to hold my pee back somehow, so I pushed one hand between my legs and hoped this would not be noticed. This wasn’t easy with nothing to cover my lap, but it was going to be my only salvation, except finding a Ladies’, (and that seemed to be nearly impossible), so I just had to take the risk of being seen holding myself. I forlornly hoped that my action would not be recognised for what it really was– the last resort of a desperate teacher trying to avoid a public wetting accident.
I was so desperately in need of a loo by then that I was beginning to panic, as whatever I did, I was not going to be able to wait much longer. To my horror and mortification, I saw that Julia was looking intently in my direction with a disapproving frown on her face. This seemed to suggest my worst nightmare; that she had noticed that I was holding myself. Terrified of discovery, I had to pull my hand away from between my legs, however badly I wanted to keep it pressing there. So urgent was my then need to pee that I came to the brink of losing control and wetting myself, but with a gasp of desperation and by making some superhuman effort of bladder control I managed to hold on. I was literally shaking with desperation and the effort it was taking to hold back my pee, and, in despair I sat on my hands, hunching forward in one last frantic effort to contain my busting bladder. All I could do was to try to get my fingers reaching up between my legs to help me hold out by pressing in the vital spot. Even then I was nearing the end of my endurance.
I am sorry to have to admit that I was beginning to panic. I was desperate for a loo, I seemed to have been waiting for ages, and I could not stand the thought of having to hold on any longer. I simply could not cross my legs any tighter; in fact I do not think it would have been possible for any human to cross their legs any tighter than I was that morning. I was almost going frantic; I wanted a loo so badly. All I wanted to do was to pee, nothing else mattered much at that moment, and I hardly cared where or how, just so long as I could empty my poor bursting little bladder.
I looked frantically around, and sheer, urgent, desperation forced me to put my hand back between my legs. I felt that it was impossible to clench my bladder shut any tighter and even with all the effort I was making to force myself to hold on, I was on the brink of some terrible accident where I wet my knickers in public, in front of my class and head teacher. The pressure in my bladder seemed to have risen to an unsustainable level and I was not going to be able to hold it in much longer. All I could think was “I can’t wait much longer, I can’t hold it back for long, I’m going to have to pee somewhere, I must find somewhere to go, Oh please! I don’t want to wet my knickers! What can I do?”
There had to be somewhere for a desperate teacher to have the pee she needed so urgently. Anywhere, anywhere, would do so long as it was not in my knickers, and so long as none of the children knew what a state I was in. Why was it always me? Probably nobody on that beach wanted to go more urgently than me (God help them, because if they did, they would be wetting themselves!)
For one crazy, desperate moment I considered simply running behind the breakwater and pulling my jeans down, and having a pee, like a little girl might, and I almost cried at the thought of the glorious relief. Then the sensible, respectable, responsible, Nicola, the senior teacher, took over and I realized my image would be ruined forever so I had no option but to wait. What a state I was in! Absolutely desperate for a loo, so desperate I had to risk keeping one hand pressing between my legs. Even though I was sitting on one hand, and trying to press between my legs with that, I wanted a loo so terribly urgently that I needed to be holding back the frantic, desperate pressure in my bursting bladder with all the strength I could manage. I was literally beyond caring about anything except holding back my pee. The only thing I could think was “I must wait!” I must hold my pee back! Do anything but don’t let go and wet my knickers! Wait! Wait! Hold it! Hold it! Somehow I had to keep control of my bladder and not let a single drop of pee escape; I had to hold it, somehow. I had to hold it! I had to find somewhere to go!
I wasn’t going to be able to hold out much longer, so there was no other option for me. If I could not wait, then I had to find somewhere to pee, and please, please, not in my knickers (and jeans) with half the school watching. I hardly dared to move from my seat. I wanted to go so terribly urgently that I felt that even standing up, when I would not be able to keep my legs so tightly plaited and my fingers pressing between my legs, would be too much to bear and I would probably lose what little bladder control I had and publicly wet myself. The awful thing was– if I stayed sitting down, I was not going to be able to hold on very much longer anyway. It seemed as if I did not have much of a choice: either stay where I was until I wet myself or stand up to try to find somewhere to pee and probably go in my knickers while I was looking. My distress must have been obvious to everyone who could see me sitting there, legs in a knot, hunched forward, almost in tears with desperation. This was not how a schoolteacher should behave in front of her class.
Katherine came over to me looking concerned, “Are you alright, Nicola?” She had to ask the stupid and obvious question. What could I say? I most obviously was not all right. I very obviously needed to go to the loo, very, very, urgently indeed, probably more urgently than Katherine had a few minutes before. There was no point in trying to hide what a desperate situation I was in. I felt that any second a spreading wet patch between my legs was going to make it totally obvious to everyone near me, and such a desperate situation called for some desperate action. Frightened by the very real prospect of publicly wetting myself I abandoned all pretence of responsible adult teacher behaviour.
“I’m absolutely desperate for a loo, I must find somewhere quickly” I could only speak between clenched teeth I wanted to go so badly, and Katherine must have realized how desperately I wanted to go.
“Oh dear!” she began, “What are you going to do? There isn’t anywhere here you can go!”
“I must! I can’t wait much longer, or I’ll wet myself” What a confession to make, but I was beyond caring. Nothing mattered except getting to a loo as quickly as possible. “I’ll have to use the public loo along the road. Can you cover for me here?”
“But that is closed,” began Katherine, blushing as she realized that she was about to admit that she had squatted in the street.
“I don’t care! There must be somewhere I can pee! I can’t wait much longer.” I could not pretend any longer. I absolutely had to go, anywhere except in my knickers would do for me.
Ignoring her horrified look of surprise as she realized what I was thinking of, since I was at that desperate stage when every second before I could pee seemed vital, I didn’t hesitate. I stood up, still trying to keep my legs crossed, and making a super–human effort to hold in my pee, by doing anything except the obvious, (holding between my legs, which is what I so wanted) tried to walk normally to the closed public loo. I was absolutely frantic and holding on with every ounce of my strength. I was trying so hard to wait I could hardly walk, as even my toes were curled up and I was pressing my legs together, with what seemed like every muscle from my fingers to my toes clenched tight as I hobbled along the promenade.
In one last, frantic attempt to hold my pee, I grabbed hold of my belt (not between my legs which I really wanted to do!) and pulled my jeans up so the crotch seam was so, so tight between my legs. In the state I was in that morning, I hoped that this would help hold back my pee, which felt as if it was about to spurt into my knickers.
There were too many people about, both walking and driving along the road, for me to dare to hold between my legs, which I desperately needed to do, so all I could think about was that somehow, I was not sure how, I had to hold back my pee until I could reach the loo. Even though I knew it was closed, I had some desperate, forlorn, hope that there would be somewhere there I could go, and in my frantic state I was not ruling out squatting in the street; if Katherine could do that, then so would I. My only thought was finding somewhere to pee and I was quite prepared to go almost anywhere– except in my knickers!
Frantic to pee, my only thought was that I had to hold out until the loo, and I was nearly tearing my belt off I was pulling my jeans so tight between my legs. I do not think it was doing much to help hold back my pee, but at that time I had to try anything that might help even a little bit, and I think I even closed my eyes with the effort I was making to clench my bladder shut, and, at last I was close to the loo. The nearest entrance was the men’s, which, as I expected the ladies’ to be shut I was quite prepared to use. That, at least was still open, proved by a noisy group of ‘lager louts’ going in as I approached.
Another disaster! I was prepared to go in the men’s loo if the ladies’ was shut. If it had been someone more my own age, in there, I would have waited until he came out and then asked him to stand guard while I went in far a pee; but the ‘louts’ did not look honourable enough to be trusted to keep guard and not make fun of me, so I just had to grit my teeth and clench my bladder shut for another few minutes while I hobbled on to the Ladies. That, I knew was shut, but I was at then end of my endurance, and simply had to pee somewhere before I did it in my knickers.
The path to the locked door offered some token ‘cover’ for a very desperate teacher squat, so I didn’t hesitate; in fact I was not capable of any further hesitation; I was reaching that awful situation when I wanted to pee so very desperately that I was about to go regardless of where I was. (I know because I had been in situation where, unfortunately, I have ‘done it’ in my knickers)
In one last frantic effort to hold back my pee, I jammed both hands between my legs and pressed with all my might. I was nearly wetting myself; it felt as if a spurt of pee was about to leak out, but by pressing hard I was just able to stop it before I wet my knickers. I don’t think I have ever been so close to wetting myself and held on, and I was shaking with the effort I was pressing between my legs, telling myself I had to stop it, to hold it back for just a few seconds longer. I was so close! I was nearly at the loo, or at least somewhere I could squat and pee, and I had to make myself wait and not wet myself.
Getting as close to the closed door (of the ladies’) as possible, hoping that I might not be visible from the road, but really beyond caring who might see me, and thinking of nothing except having a pee, I fumbled with my belt, frantically trying to undo my jeans and pull them down using only one hand, as I dared not take the other from between my legs as that was the only way I was going to hold back my pee. Starting to panic, because I was losing control and I felt I was about to pee, I thrust my hand inside my jeans, as I had managed to undo the belt and zip, and pressed right on my knickers.
That was the absolute last resort; direct pressure on my pee outlet with only the thin fabric of my knickers between my fingers and the outlet. I pressed so hard, I was sure that nothing could possible leak past my fingers, but I wasn’t going to test that. Whimpering “I want to go! I can’t wait! I want to pee!” I somehow pulled my jeans down to my knees and with a gasp of relief, crouched down by the loo door. Nothing mattered to me any longer except a pee and I was almost prepared to go in my knickers now my jeans were out of the way. I didn’t have time to pull my knickers down, so I pulled the crotch sideways and, hoping it was out of the way, but not really caring because I could not wait any longer, I let my pee come gushing out.
Oh the relief! I had never before tried to pee with my knickers pulled to one side, I have always used the ‘traditional’ method of pulling them down, round my knees, but then I was so desperate I didn’t care what I did so long as I could pee. Did I pee! I was desperate almost beyond imagination and pee just spurted out like a small hosepipe. It felt so good to be able to relax my poor, overstrained, bladder muscles that had been holding back my pee for so long.
It may have felt great, almost orgasmic, to pee after holding so long, but I was squatting in public, by the door of the ladies’ loo, in full view of anyone walking along the pavement, and all good things have to end. Probably the only advantage of a small bladder like mine is that it does not take long to empty, even when full to bursting point, so I was finished before anyone walked past and saw me.
With both hands free, it didn’t take a second to pull my jeans and, decent again, I could lean against the door and recover. I was quite out of breath with the effort of holding back my pee as I walked, but that was nothing compared to the ache from my bladder area, telling me how much strain it had been under. But, the main thing was that I had managed to hold out without wetting my knickers and, hopefully no one, except Katherine, knew what I had been up to.
If Julia was to ask what I had been doing, I would have told her most of the truth: that I wanted to go to the loo, but I had found the Ladies’ shut and I would have to wait until I could find somewhere else to go.
I walked casually back to the beach where the children were playing under the watchful gaze of Julia who had taken up a position on the far side of our section of beach, and Katherine who was closest, sitting on the wall where I had so nearly left a wet patch.
“Everything Ok?” she asked as I joined her. She looked puzzled, so she obviously knew that the public loo I had just ‘used’ was closed, and was finding it difficult to accept that I had peed in the street. What was so wrong with that? She must have done the same, and in a more exposed place, so how stupid that we were both pretending that we either had not had a pee, or had somehow got into a firmly closed Ladies. Maybe the details were nothing to be proud of; teachers of my age and status are not supposed to have weak bladders that force them to pee in the street, but she had wanted to go just as badly as I did.
Katherine smiled knowingly at me and I smiled and nodded back. I knew that she knew what I had done, and she also guessed that I had worked out what she had been forced to do. We both knew that we had both been frantic for the loo and were pretending not to have been.
“That was quite an emergency,” I was using her words, so she should understand that I had wanted to pee just as badly as she. “I really did have to go, so I had to make the best of what was available. Julia is always telling us to do that to help her reach her budget targets, though I am not sure she would have approved of our actions.”
There! I was admitting what I had done and telling Kathy that I also knew she had peed in the street as well.
“Needs must. As they say– when you’ve got to go… Or any port in a storm.” Kathy was trying to hide her embarrassment by joking, but it had not been a joke for either of us.
“It really would have been much better if we had stopped for a few minutes as you had planned,” Kathy continued, “I don’t think that Julia is quite so aware of some human failings.”
“Very true” I replied, wondering if Julia had ever wanted a loo as badly as Kathy and I had that morning.
By: Nicola