The Hospital Outing - Part 4

She was almost aggressively proud of being black. On the outing she wore very tight, low–waisted, blue–grey jeans.
“My troubles started when we were having a drink in the evening. I got into a stupid argument with Sharon, and we had a drinking contest, seeing who could drink a pint the fastest, and then immediately a rematch changing drinks, so I drank lager and Sharon bitter. (Sharon is a white girl who always seems to rub me up the wrong way. If I had not already been drinking I would have ignored her, like I usually do. It would have been much better if I had.) We had hardly finished that when Sister Loraine was telling us it was time to leave, and I just had to finish my drink before we left, so I had drunk almost 3 pints in the ten minutes before I got on the coach home. Of course I went to the loo before we left, but I still had a lot of the beer left inside me.”
“I knew that I was going to need a piss before too long, but I consoled myself by thinking that Sharon had drunk as much as I had, and would also want to piss. I have got a good bladder, because blacks are physically superior to whites, so I was confident that Sharon, and some of the other whites, would be begging for a stop before I was. Not surprisingly, I wanted to go after less that 20 minutes on the coach, much sooner than I had hoped, and this brought home that I had at least 3 pints of beer, which would become nearer 4 pints of piss, inside me. Was it possible for any bladder to contain that much? I rather hoped that Sharon would give way and beg for a stop before I had to find out. In the meantime, all I could do was cross my legs and wait.”
“The rate my bladder was filling was frightening. In another 15 minutes I was seriously desperate, with my legs twisted tightly together, shifting about on the seat to try to find the most comfortable position. My bladder was already feeling enormous, like a football in my abdomen, and hurting where the waistband of my jeans cut right across it. I undid my belt and pulled my zipper down two inches, which eased the pain and made me want to go a bit less. I looked to see how Sharon was managing, as she was wearing tight jeans, and should have been having the same trouble. To my surprise, and disappointment, she was sitting casually, legs apart, jeans done up, not looking as if she had any need of a piss. I tried to convince myself that she had seen me looking and was putting on a show, and she was actually very desperate.”
“I could not worry about Sharon for long, because my own need to piss had gotten even worse, going beyond the aching bladder, ‘if only I could piss and be comfortable again,’ feeling, to where I was having to make a serious effort to clamp my bladder shut to hold the piss in. Very worrying, because it was only going to get worse, and quickly, and I could very soon be really fighting to hold out. The temptation to push my fingers between my legs was too great to resist; it felt so good to be pressing against my urethra outlet, taking the strain off my sphincter. Fear of being seen made me stop. It would never do for me to be admitting I was so desperate I could hardly wait, even if that was becoming true. All I could do was to try and cross my legs even tighter and clench my bladder and my sphincter tightly shut to hold in the steadily rising pressure. Was I desperate? I could not remember many times when I had been much worse, but I had my pride and image to think of, and there was no way I was going to be the first one on the coach to admit I could not hold my piss any longer. I just had to make myself wait, it was a matter of will–power and physical endurance, and in these I was superior to most whites, so I was going to hold on until someone else cracked up. Best if it could be Sharon, but anyone would do, just so long as it was soon, because I was having to really struggle to hold back my piss.”
“Soon I just had to hold my crutch again, the temptation was irresistible. I wanted to piss so urgently it was becoming almost unbearable, taking a tremendous effort to hold it back, more than I could have managed for long without help. I convinced myself that by only pressing the tips of my fingers against the urethra outlet, wee hole, whatever you want to call it, and covering this with my other hand in my lap, nobody could see what I was doing. It felt so good, I was in control again, I could wait, if not in comfort, at least without fighting to avoid pissing myself, and I would be able to hold on until the piss stop. I pressed harder; the urgent need got less, even if the ache from the bladder region did not. I would have to put up with that, it showed my bladder was being really stretched, but I knew from anatomy that bladders were flexible organs, so mine was going to have to stretch some more to hold all my piss until the coach stopped. Then, as if she had seen me holding, Sharon came walking down the coach and I had to move my hands before she noticed. The moment I did this urge to piss was frantic, so bad that I almost let go, taking every ounce of my strength to hold it. I hoped she was going to ask for a stop, I willed her to be as frantic as I was, to go to the driver and tell him he had to stop, but she only talked to her friend near the front and then sat down again. I was almost screaming with the effort it was taking to hold my piss unaided, and the instant she was sitting down I was holding my crutch like crazy, pressing with all my strength. I had been so close to pissing myself that I didn’t care if anyone saw, I just had to hold it back.”
“As soon as the panic was over, I tried to cover up what I was doing as best I could, because I was not going to be able to wait any longer unless I was holding my crutch. It was quite dark on the coach, and I was sitting in a window seat, so by keeping my left arm across my lap, nobody could really see that my right hand was pressed between my legs. With lightweight jeans and a thong I could press my fingers right against my wee hole, so no piss could possibly get out. I was absolutely desperate to piss, but I had to wait until the coach stopped, and this was the only way I could. I had never wanted to piss so badly in my life before. Even with my fingers blocking my wee hole, the urge to go was so intense I was struggling to hold it, and my bladder ache was getting worse, becoming really painful where my jeans and knickers were tight across my stomach. I undid the zipper more, and tried to move my knicker elastic so it was not cutting across the bulge of my swollen bladder. Even the slightest pressure in that area was painful, an indication, not that I needed one, of just how full my bladder was. I knew I was forcing my body to its limit, but I had no choice. I was not going to be the girl who could not hold her piss and had to beg the coach to stop. I might have drunk more than most, but I was stronger than most, and if they were managing to wait, so could I. It was bad enough that I was having to hold my crutch, and worse that Sharon did not seem to want to go as badly as I did, so I was going to make myself wait, however badly it hurt.”
“And it did hurt! My bladder was agony. It felt enormous, as if it was bulging out at least six inches, and every jolt of the coach made it hurt more. I kept thinking ‘I must have a piss, I can’t stand it any longer, I must piss,’ then I would press my fingers harder against my wee hole and tell myself I just had to wait, I wasn’t going to be the one who gave way first. In the back of my mind, I knew I was stretching my bladder to its limit, but I thought that so long as I could keep holding my crutch I was going to be able to wait, and there had to be a stop soon. I also had some vague hope that before my bladder reached its limit and exploded my kidneys would slow down and stop making any more piss. Sharon had gone very quiet. I hoped that this indicated that she was also frantic, surely she had to be, and I was not going to give up until she did.”
“I began to squirm about on the seat, trying to get into a position that even slightly eased my agony, but nothing seemed to help. Then there was a sudden frantically urgent need to piss, more intense that ever before, and I was pressing against my wee hole with all my strength, telling myself that nothing could leak out. I was just hanging on like that, then this awful, sharp, pain inside me, like I had been stabbed between the legs, and I wanted to piss so badly I was holding with both hands, not caring who could see, only wanting to stop myself pissing. But I couldn’t stop it! However hard I pressed, trying to ignore the pain, piss began to leak out past my fingers. The shock of feeling the spreading wetness between my legs somehow gave me more strength, and I managed to clamp my bladder shut again. It was a dreadful moment, I had not been able to hold my piss, even with both hands pressing my wee hole, which I had thought, would never let me piss. First I thought I would have to stop the coach, admit I had reached the point of not being able to wait, and then I realized that with a wet patch between my legs, and having to keep holding my crutch, I was going to look pathetic begging for a stop. Somehow I had to keep waiting, hope that having let some piss go, I could hang on a bit longer, find more capacity, make my bladder stretch and hold it, and jam my fingers even tighter against my wee hole, so there could never be another leak. I silently pleaded that somebody else’s bladder was about to give way like mine had, and they would get the coach to stop.”
“I started holding my crutch with both hands, mainly because I needed all the pressure I could manage on my wee hole, but also because this did more to cover the wet patch, horribly visible and dark on my jeans. Allie, another black nurse, sitting next to me, had to see me holding and know how desperate I was. She admitted ‘it was nearly coming out of her ears,’ and was having to sit on her heel to take the strain, but nodded in agreement when I said it was not going to be a black girl that gave way first. At least then I could hold my crutch without having to try and hide what I was doing. I pressed as hard as I could on my wee hole, trying to twist my legs tighter while bending forward as much as there was room to. A pose of absolute desperation, but it did help, and though my bladder still felt close to exploding, I wasn’t going to piss myself again.”
“I stayed in that position because I was at my absolute limit, beyond caring about anything except not pissing myself. I was so desperate that I was willing to do anything to make me want to go less, to help me hold my piss a bit longer. I was thinking ‘Please stop, please someone get the coach to stop before my bladder splits open.’ Then, even worse, I was thinking ‘I’m already wet, will it make any difference if I piss myself some more, only a little bit, just to ease the pressure.’ I had just about enough will–power left to resist this temptation, thank goodness, because I am sure that if I had once started to piss I would not have been able to stop until I had flooded half the coach.”
“Then Allie was telling me that she was sure there were two young nurses asking for a stop. They were talking to Sister, then going to the driver, and one might have been holding her crutch some of the time, so there had to be a stop coming. But the driver did not stop immediately, and I had to make myself wait longer. I was frantic, worse than I had ever dreamed it was possible to want to piss, fingers jammed against my wee hole so hard it was hurting, and my sphincter clamped shut with all my strength, just about holding it, but not for much longer. I simply could not keep up that level of effort for long; I could feel myself tiring, as the pressure got worse. Telling myself that we were about to stop only made it worse, as I began to anticipate the piss and might even have leaked a bit. I was in such a state, so close to pissing myself that I hardly knew what was happening. The same urge had got Allie, because she was saying ‘Why doesn’t he stop? Don’t think about going, it only makes it worse,’ and she was holding her crutch as well.”
“We stopped suddenly, taking us both by surprise, as we had shut our eyes in the effort we were making to hold our piss. Other nurses were pushing to get out before we could get up, and we were both in such a state that even standing up was difficult. Just uncrossing my legs made it worse, and to keep up with the rush out of the coach I could only hold my crutch with one hand, which just was not enough, and before I was off the coach I was starting to piss myself. Only a trickle, but that was bad enough, so when I saw the Ladies’ were already full I had no hesitation in running (hobbling) behind the building. I had to piss quickly anywhere because it was an emergency. Squatting in the shadows was far better than standing in a queue and letting people see me pissing myself. Allie thought the same, she was right behind me, holding her crutch and saying ‘Quick! Quick! I can’t wait, I’m nearly doing it.’ Only nearly doing it, she was lucky, I was doing it!”
“As soon as I was behind the loo I was tearing my jeans off, which needed both hands, and I was starting to piss before I had got my knickers off, going full blast before I was squatting down. I could hardly believe the force of my piss. I had never done anything like it before, which showed just how stretched my bladder had been. I crouched there, pissing and pissing and pissing, it seemed to go on forever, I could not believe my bladder had held so much. Allie had pushed past me and was also pissing like a waterfall, and a Filipino nurse had joined us, holding her crutch as she arrived, so there were three absolutely bursting bladders emptying together. They both finished long before I did, I was literally pissing liters, probably making medical history, and the relief was so good I wasn’t going to try and stop until I was empty.”
“When I pulled up my jeans I found how wet they were– a big wet patch between the legs where I had pissed myself, and splashed lower down where I had let go before I was squatting. I was in a right mess, and had to get Allie to walk close behind me to hide the wet, while I tried to cover the front. The street lighting was not very good, and most of the nurses were back in the coach, or still in the loo, so I don’t think anyone noticed. I had an awful stomachache, so bad I thought I must have strained my bladder holding so much piss, but curled up in the seat, it gradually got better. As the last nurses got back in the coach I looked to see what had happened to Sharon, expecting her to have been pissing as long as I had been. She hadn’t been in the rush to get off, yet she was in her seat when I got back on, and as her friends came out of the loo I realized she had not had a piss.”
I could hardly believe it. I had seen her drink nearly as much beer as I had, but over an hour later she seemingly did not want to go. She was standing up to let her friends in, and her jeans were completely dry, so she had not pissed herself and was hiding. Nor could she have pissed in the seat, these were hard plastic seats and plastic on the floor, her piss would have run everywhere, half the coach would have seen it. She had to be still holding her piss, yet it seemed impossible for anyone to hold that much and not want to go.”
“When we got back to the hospital Allie and I sneaked into her outpatients’ clinic to get a coat to cover my wet jeans, and also have the piss we were both dying for again, before we walked back to our flat. I heard Sharon and her friend saying they were going into to Casualty for a loo, though it did not seem to be an emergency, so at last she had to go, though I could not believe she had waited so long. I think I have an above average bladder that I had stretched to the absolute limit once and then filled again, before Sharon had wanted to piss once but she must be twice as big, at least. The only good thing about the journey back was that if anyone apart from Allie saw that I had wet myself, they never said anything. There were so many desperate nurses when we did at last stop I think they were too concerned about their own need to look at anyone else.”
Author’s final note:
Unfortunately I could not arrange an interview with this Sharon, who appeared to have a bladder capacity almost beyond belief. Nor was I able to talk to any of her friends to ask if they had noticed this capacity, or confirm that she did not pee on the way back. The mystery was only solved when one nurse mentioned ‘Sharon’s party trick.’ Apparently she has trained herself to be able to drink several pints almost straight down, and then go in the loo and vomit them straight back up, so she neither gets drunk nor needs to pee, though appears to have drunk 3, 6, 8, 10 pints, as much as anyone challenges her to drink. She must have done this on this outing, getting rid of all the beer she had drunk before she got on the coach.
Paul Tester ( Email Welcome )