Desperation Awakening

Susan and Gemma were returning home from a Friday night trip into town. They had met some friends in a bar where they had enjoyed a pint or two before someone had suggested a visit to a beer festival just down the road. On arrival several of their party had disappeared to the loos while Gemma and Susan went to get a round in. As they met up again one of the other girls said she did not recommend the toilets, as they were disgusting. In fact they were just a portacabin each for the men and for the women and both were totally inadequate for the number of visitors to the festival that night.
Gemma already needed a wee but decided to wait a while. After their third pint of the evening she decided that she couldn’t put it off any longer and both her and Susan this time made their way to the facilities. Their companion had not been lying and the toilets were indeed disgusting, but worse now was the fact that one of the three cubicles in the Ladies had given up the ghost and there were massive queues for the remaining two. The whole place stank and although now feeling quite desperate, Gemma said to Susan that there was no way she was going in there. Susan reluctantly agreed. It was already getting late and both were confident of finding somewhere better on the way back into town.
They returned to their party where another round had been consumed. Gemma sipped at her fourth pint, enjoying the beer but conscious of her ever–increasing need to pee. Finally they got to leave. It was a short walk into town where some of the girls were to get a taxi. It was only another mile or so on from that point for Gemma and Susan to reach their homes, so they said they’d walk. After saying their goodbyes, Susan confessed that the only reason she had turned down the taxi was that she was hoping to find somewhere to pee because she was bursting.
Together they wandered down the road. It was late and most of the bars had closed. Susan had both hands plunged down the pockets of her jeans and as they reached the outskirts of town she said to Gemma, “Keep watch will you, I’m going behind that car!” To Gemma’s amazement Susan staggered in between two cars, ripped her jeans down and squatted. Her flow started immediately, a hard gush dribbling back into the gutter and flowing on towards a drain. Seeing and hearing her pee only intensified Gemma’s own desperation and she gripped her purse tightly in front of her and crossed her legs. At last Susan pulled up her jeans, “Your turn,” she said. Gemma stood there in surprise for a moment or two but the ache in her bladder forced her to step off the pavement and reach beneath her short black dress for her panties. She knew she wasn’t far now from home but it would feel so good to finally let go.
She was about to squat when Susan called urgently that someone was coming. Gemma could have cried with embarrassment. She stood hurriedly, yanking her panties back up and started to walk down the road with Susan, as a group of lads overtook them. Gemma clenched herself shut and desperately vowed to make it home in time.
At her garden gate a few minutes later she waved a hurried goodbye to Susan and trotted up the path, one hand locked between her legs as she struggled with the key in the lock. God she was bursting! With those 4 pints in the pub and at the festival her bladder was straining and the pressure on her tiny pee hole was amazing. She struggled indoors, nudging the door too as she hopped from one foot to the other. She’d made it! The relief of being so close to her toilet was almost too much and the anticipation of the pee to come almost sent her over the edge once more.
She dumped her small bag on the coffee table, snapped on the landing lights and hurried upstairs to the bathroom. Inside she nudged the door too with her shoulder and made her way agonizingly towards the loo. Once there she kicked off her shoes, raised her dress and lowered her panties to her knees once more. With that she crouched over the loo. Then something inside her made her stop. She realized she was actually rather enjoying being so full and the excitement of her situation was pulsing through her veins leaving her extremely turned on.
She stood again and removed her panties completely. Raising her dress above her waist she examined the swollen outline of her tortured bladder, bulging outwards and upwards to just below her navel. Her tiny sphincter muscle was screaming its dismay but she managed to calm it with a well–placed finger against her pee–hole. Oh, it felt so good!
She went downstairs and snapped on her computer. While it was warming up she went into the kitchen and filled a pint glass with water, sipping at it as she returned to her computer. With her dress hiked over the top of her thighs she entered “pee, desperation” into a search engine and was amazed at the number of results it came up with.
Gently rubbing herself nearer to orgasm and partly to keep her bladder in check, she scanned a few sites, reveling in any pictures that appeared of men busting for the loo. They always had it so easy, able to stand virtually anywhere and just release whereas girls always had to wait until a more convenient location was found. It was so nice to see a man holding to bursting point. It was over half an hour later when she looked up and downed the last of her water. It was approaching midnight and the thought of snuggling under her duvet was now very appealing. Just as she was about to switch off she caught site of a headline on one of the message boards. It was from a guy who enjoyed filling himself to bursting point and then going to bed, still busting for the loo, but not letting himself use his hands to keep things under control. He said the feeling of utter desperation and the quivering strain of his sphincter as it battled to hold on were simply orgasmic.
Gemma was intrigued. She’d already had more than 5 pints to drink since her last pee and she couldn’t resist trying this out. She switched off and took her empty glass back to the kitchen. Unable to resist she filled it again and downed another pint of water before finally heading back upstairs. In her bedroom she slipped off her dress under the dim light of her bedside lamp and unclipped her bra. Naked now she allowed her hands to wander over the contours of her tightly packed bladder, down her thighs and up to her breasts, where her nipples were now firm and erect. She sat on the edge of the bed, ignoring the urgent pleas from her bladder for relief, and slipped under the cover of her duvet.
She curled up on her right side, pressing herself firmly between the legs one final time before taking her hand away and resting it on her left hip. Her other hand gripped the pillow as she settled down to see what would happen. She snapped on her TV and watched an American comedy show. Within minutes though, her sphincter was straining and she had to clench herself shut as hard as she could. After five minutes she couldn’t bare it any more. She turned over onto her left side and the urge disappeared for a while. All too soon it was back again and she turned the other way. This continued for another 15–20 minutes. She turned off the television and closed her eyes. She dozed fitfully and awoke as a huge wave of urgency pulsed through her entire body. Her bladder literally felt like it was about to explode. She sat up hurriedly and snapped on the bedside lamp. Her bladder was absolutely enormous, way above her tummy button now and as hard as iron. She couldn’t resist touching herself between the legs, relishing the warm dampness down there.
She glanced at her alarm clock – twelve forty five. She had dozed for maybe fifteen minutes. It was now three quarters of an hour since she’d had that sixth pint and she knew that was now adding to the enormous pressure inside her bladder. She vowed to do whatever it took to last until 1am. Switching off the light she lay back down, relishing the joy of rubbing herself again to the brink of orgasm. At that point she took her hands away and curled up on her side. Almost immediately she could feel her sphincter shuddering. She relaxed for just an instant and then clenched again. The shuddering wouldn’t stop. She was about to lose it! She stretched herself and turned over again. The familiar pulse of urgency soon replaced the short relief this brought. Her sphincter quivered and she literally cried out with joy as she clenched herself shut time and time again, refusing to give in.
She glanced at her watch – only ten to one. She still had ten more minutes to wait. She turned over, thrusting against her duvet as it found its way between her parted thighs. Oh God what a feeling! She was in agony, yet reaching such a state of ecstasy she was on the brink of both cumming and peeing. Again she turned over, but this time the expected short period of relief didn’t come. Her sphincter pulsed constantly and she could feel a burst of pee on the brink of release. Her bladder was straining to the limit. Desperately she glanced at her watch – still eight minutes to go – she wasn’t going to make it! She plunged the fingers of one hand against her pee hole and pressed hard. Oh what joy! Her bladder calmed but another feeling started to build. She only moved her fingers very slightly but it was enough for a wave of orgasm to finally over power her. Ahhhhhhh!!! She lay on her back gasping, thrusting upwards against her fingers as she plunged two of them deep within her pussy. The urge to pee was forgotten for a few blissful moments as waves of orgasm took over. It was the best she had ever known.
As her sexual peak passed, her only thoughts now were that she MUST pee. Her bladder and lower back were aching terribly. She rolled herself off the bed, her bladder like a huge beach ball as she trotted along the landing towards the bathroom, both hands now pressed between her legs as her muscles threatened to give way. Inside the bathroom she caught site of herself in the mirror and gasped in shock. Her swollen bladder was massive, making her look several months pregnant. God, she had to pee! She staggered towards the loo, when she suddenly remembered another message on a website she had seen earlier about capacities. God, she must be holding so much– she thought!
She needed something to pee into. She scanned the room, nothing. Then she remembered she had an empty 2–litre ice cream carton downstairs. Hurriedly she trotted to the kitchen, grabbed the container and sprinted now back upstairs. The dam was about to burst whether she liked it or not. She flung the carton on the carpet back inside the bathroom, dancing on the spot as her first jet of wee squeezed its way past her exhausted sphincter muscle. As she crouched she was already peeing and just a little trickled along the inside of her thighs. In position at last she let rip with a real blast that splashed back against her naked buttocks.
Oh, the relief! She squatted, gasping out loud as her pent up piss made its hasty exit, gushing between her quivering thighs and rapidly filling the container. Gradually her flow eased to a steady trickle and eventually she had to force out the last few drops before she leant forward exhausted on all fours.
It was several minutes later before she was able to stagger to her feet. Carefully she picked up the container and carefully measured her output – just less than 1.8 liters! She was thrilled. She crawled back to bed and slept soundly for the next few hours, only to be woken by another massive urge to pee.
Nigel