Waiting for the Bus

Note: This story contains Female & Male Desperation, and Accidental Wetting.
Vanessa and her partner Keiran, who lived in a remote English country village, often had a group of friends to stay for the weekend, and on Saturday night had arranged a visit to their favourite pub in a nearby village. A late–night bus connecting all the villages in the area had recently been started, and Vanessa insisted that they use this to come home, instead of driving or ordering a taxi. The pub was famous for both real ale and local cider, so they were all expecting to have plenty to drink.
Vanessa, a well–built girl in her 30’s, was wearing a long, close fitting dress, which clearly showed the outline of her knickers. Kieran was cultivating the country look, with baggy green cord trousers. Their guests that weekend were Paul, a college friend of Vanessa, tall and slim, wearing close fitting jeans, his latest girl–friend, Jane, a tiny red–head in skin–tight white trousers that occasionally hinted of the tiny knickers she was wearing, Bridgett, a slim, elegant French girl who had worked with Kieran, wearing black stretch fabric jeans, very tight and sexy in the French manner, Patrick, who used to be their neighbour, tall and heavily built, in jeans, and Rosemary, short and plump, also in jeans.
By the end of the evening they had all had plenty to drink, and at Kieran’s insistence, they had all been drinking pints all the evening. They had been waiting for the bus for some time, when Bridgett, who had started crossing her legs and fidgeting a bit, asked Vanessa how long the journey back would take. When she was told it was about 20 minutes, as it called at all the intermediate villages, she bit her lip anxiously and pressed her legs tightly together. Bridgett, who was not used to drinking cider, and did not have a very big bladder anyway, already wanted to go quite badly, and knew that she really had no hope of waiting another 20 minutes. Her problem was that she did not like going in the open air, but this time there was really no other option. The middle of a village didn’t offer much cover, but the though of how desperate she would be if she didn’t go forced her to find somewhere. The best option seemed to be behind the hedge in the front garden of the house opposite, hoping that the owners were not looking out of the window.
“It’s no good, I simply must go. Please don’t let the bus go without me,” she said as she hurried across the road and into the Vicarage front garden. The gate was open and there was a dark shadow just inside, where she squatted, forcing her piss out as quickly as possible, fearful that the bus would come before she had finished. A small bladder and a powerful stream enabled her to finish quickly, and a relieved but embarrassed Bridgett was back with the group just as the bus arrived.
Rosemary had been temped to join Bridgett when she went for her pee. She had been feeling the warning twinges from he bladder for some time, and being only too well aware of how much she had drunk that evening, and how difficult she found it to hold so much for long, she knew that another pee before she got on the bus would be sensible if not essential, but she hated to thought of squatting in the open, even if it was dark. She was still thinking about her pee, and how much she was going to need it, when the bus arrived, and then it was too late, she had not choice but to get on and sit with her legs crossed, hoping that she would not want to go very badly.
The bus ran a circular route round all the villages in the area, and was going the long way to Vanessa’s house. Twenty minutes passed and Patrick was getting worried, as he desperately wanted to pee, and was struggling to hold it back. He had been sitting with his legs crossed so tightly that he was squeezing his cock between his upper thighs, but he was now reaching the stage when even this did not seem to be enough to hold back his pee. He was trying to get more pressure on his cock by pressing his fist into this lap, which helped for a bit, but soon even this was not enough, and he needed to actually take a grip on his cock and squeeze it tight. He was hoping that no one would notice his distress, and as they approached the next village, and he saw that it was still some way to Vanessa’s, he realised that he was not going to be able to wait that long. He had to do something, to find some excuse to get off the bus and pee, or he was going to be peeing in his trousers on the bus. As the bus went through the village, he was starting to panic, as even gripping his cock tightly all the time was hardly enough to prevent his pee leaking out. Then he remembered there was a footpath from this village across the meadows to Vanessa’s village. It was a fine night, and he could get off at the next stop and say that a two mile walk would help clear his head. He just had to hang on for another few minutes, and then he could pee almost as soon as he was off the bus. He gripped his cock even harder, and clenched his teeth with the effort of holding it back. He was on the brink of peeing in his trousers, but he just had to hold it. He turned to Vanessa. “I am going to walk across the fields from here, along the meadow footpath. After all that beer, the fresh air will clear my head. I’ll see you later.”
He signalled the bus to stop and started towards the exit. It was not a totally convincing reason, but he really did not care so long as he could pee before he soaked his trousers. Walking made his need worse, and as he reached the exit of the bus he had to openly hold his cock or he would have started to pee. Once off the bus, the urge to pee became unbearable, and not caring who could see, he gripped his cock tightly and ran towards the start of the footpath. As soon as he thought he was out of sight of the bus passengers he pulled put his cock and let loose a great jet of pee, which seemed to pour out endlessly as his bladder emptied. So great had been his urgency that he had not been able to stop the first spurt before his cock was clear of his fly, and he had a hand sized wet patch on the front of his jeans. As his stream died away at last, he groaned with relief, as he was no longer fighting to contain his bladder. A two–mile walk was nothing compared to the relief of that pee, and he would never have been able to hold out for the rest of the bus journey. As he zipped up his fly he realised that someone was slowly approaching him, and then Rosemary hobbled into sight, both hands between her legs, pressed up tight against her crutch.
Rosemary had wanted to pee from the moment she had got on the bus. Since then she had been sitting with her legs crossed, trying hard to persuade herself that the urge to pee was not getting any worse, and that she was going to be able to wait until they got back to Vanessa’s. However, for the last five minutes she had been absolutely desperate and had had one hand pressed hard between her legs. She hoped that no one would notice what she was doing, but she wanted the loo so badly that she was afraid that if she did not hold herself she would wet her pants. She was a stranger to the area, so had no idea how far they had to go to Vanessa’s, but, like Patrick, she had been reaching the point when she felt that she simply could not wait any longer, and she had either to find some excuse to get off the bus or she would not be able to stop herself peeing on the seat. Patrick’s talk of walking back had been an answer to her prayers. She could join him, and there had to be a hedge or bush she could pee behind.
Muttering something to Vanessa about fancying a moonlight walk, she staggered after Patrick, fighting to control her bladder now she was standing up and no longer holding between her legs. Her urge to pee was almost unbearable, and she had both hands in her jeans pockets, pulling them tight into her crutch, as this seemed to help her wait. By the time she had got off the bus, Patrick had run across the road and vanished down a lane. She could hardly manage to walk, she wanted to pee so badly, and stood by the bus stop, twisting her legs together holding her crutch, clenching her teeth in desperation as she fought a sudden spasm from her bladder. She thought that Patrick was playing some joke on her, running off and hiding, and it was only as the bus drove off that the headlights showed her that Patrick was standing in shadows on the other side of the road. Then she realised that Patrick had also wanted the loo, and that the lane he had run down was probably the best place to go. She was so desperate that even with both hands pressing between her legs she was starting to leak, and hobbled into the lane just as Patrick had finished his pee.
“I need a loo Patrick, it’s an emergency,” she gasped.
“Go round that corner, there’s nobody else about. I’ll wait here.” He indicated a bend in the lane about 20 yards away. Rosemary clenched her bladder shut in one more great effort to hold out, and carried on down the lane as fast as she was able. Once she had her back to Patrick, she had both hands pressed between her legs, fighting the sudden surge of desperation from her bladder. She was hardly out of Patrick’s sight when she had her jeans unzipped and was pulling down her tight control panties that had been pressing so cruelly on her bursting bladder. Pee was spurting from her before she was squatting down, luckily just missing her jeans and panties, and at last she could relax and let go of a real gusher that she had been wanting to do for so long. She watched her flood run across the path, marvelling at how much she had been holding, and silently thanking Patrick for giving her the chance to do it here and not on the bus seat.
Vanessa had been watching Rosemary holding herself on the bus, and was mightily disappointed that she had found some way of getting off early. She hadn’t realised that Patrick was also bursting, but the way he had run for the footpath had left no doubt about his condition. What a nuisance, she thought, that he used to live locally, and had remembered that footpath, and had an excuse to get off.
They would be home in another five minutes or so, and not a minute too soon, because Vanessa was almost as desperate as Rosemary had been. She had been sitting with her foot tucked under her, her heel pressing into her crutch, for most of the journey, but even with this help, it was going to take all her endurance to survive. The journey was taking longer than normal tonight, and really pushing her to her limit. From the way Kieran was sitting with both hands clasped in his lap, he was in a similar state. She turned to see how Paul and Jane were doing. The both had their legs tightly crossed, and were looking very tense, but otherwise no obvious signs of desperation. She knew that Paul had a strong bladder, but Jane was so tiny there did not look to be room for her to hold much pee.
The bus turned left at the next crossroads, when she was expecting it to go straight on, and she realised an extra diversion had been added to the route, and another five minutes to the journey. That might be the last straw for her bladder, which was already close to its limit, but she really didn’t have much choice but to wait somehow. A groan from Kieran suggested that he was suffering as well.
“A detour through Lower Uppingham,” he muttered, “that’s just about going to kill me. I’m almost tying a knot in it now to hold out.”
“I’m absolutely flat out as well,” replied Vanessa, “but we’ve got to hold it, at least to the bushes behind our bus stop. I am never going to be able to walk home from there without a pee first. Boys to the right, girls behind the bus shelter, there won’t be any time for confusion when we get there. Jane and Paul have drunk as much as we have, so they will be bursting as well.”
Jane and Paul were sitting close together, arms round each other and both with their legs almost knotted.
“How much further,” asked Jane, “If I don’t get to a loo soon, I am going to explode. My bladder is out here somewhere.” She indicated a point about six inches from her abdomen.
“About five minutes to the bus stop, then a couple of hundred yards walk to Vanessa’s place,” replied Paul, keeping his voice down so that Vanessa did not hear what they were discussing.
“I won’t be able to walk that far, I’m so desperate. I’ll have to go in the bushes by the bus stop, I’m not sure I can even hold out that long.” Jane was speaking through clenched teeth as she fighting with all her strength to hold in her pee.
“No way are you going until you get home. You’re a big girl now, and you are not peeing in the hedge like a child. I’m in agony my bladder is so full, but I am determined to make it back to Vanessa’s. I am sure she organises this night out deliberately to show off how long she wait, and make the other girls feel inferior to her when they have to squat in the street.” Paul had anticipated that Jane would need to pee and was going to make the most of the situation. Also he wanted his new girl friend to show that she had a superior bladder to Vanessa.
Jane had been thinking that walking any distance in the state she was in would be impossible, but there was no love lost between her and Vanessa, who she perceived as an old flame of Paul’s. If waiting until she was home would score her a point over Vanessa, then wait she would, even if she strained her bladder doing so.
The last few minutes of the bus ride were almost too much for Vanessa, who had nearly lost control twice, and was pushing her fingers between her heel and her pussy in a last frantic attempt to avoid wetting her knickers. As soon as the bus stopped, there was a scramble to get out, led by Kieran, who had both hands deep in his trouser pockets, gripping his cock so hard that it would have been impossible for anything to leak out. Vanessa was between Jane and Paul; she could see that Jane was not holding her crutch, and she was afraid that Paul would see if she was holding herself. Somehow, she had to try to make it to the bus shelter without any external help for her bladder, but the steps off the bus were too much, and, to her dismay, she could not stop a leak into her knickers. Worse, another, longer leak, happened just as she got behind the bus shelter and was pulling up her dress. There was no time to take her knickers down, she just pulled the soaking gusset to one side and let her pee go. The pressure of the initial burst amazed her, but then she settled to her normal steady stream, which she felt would go on for at least five minutes she had been so desperate. Kieran was facing the hedge, pouring out the contents of his distended bladder, but Jane, and Paul were standing in the road watching this spectacle of frantic people relieving themselves. Jane and Paul still had their legs crossed, but otherwise they were not obviously frantic.
Bridgett, despite her pee in the Vicarage garden, was already feeling some slight need to pee when the bus had finally arrived, and had even been considering another visit to the vicarage garden. Once on the bus, she sat with her leg tightly crossed, trying to convince herself that she could not possible want to pee again, and that she would be able to wait until she was safely back at Vanessa’s house before she would really want to pee. She was ashamed of being the only one who had had to pee in the open before the bus came, as well as being the one who had been to the loo in the pub so often that the others had been laughing at her. She tried not to think of how much cider she had drunk, or of how she knew from bitter experience that cider made her pee so much, and grimly told herself that she was an adult, and had to hold her pee until she was home. There wasn’t anywhere else she could pee now she was on the bus, so she didn’t have any choice. She simply had to hold her pee until she was back at Vanessa’s.
Even before Patrick and Rosemary had got off, she had been almost tying her legs in a knot, and gritting her teeth with the effort of containing pee in her bursting bladder. To her shame, there had been times when the urge to pee had become so frantic that she had simply had to press her hand between her legs; women of her status did not do such things in public, she knew, but when the alternative was to leak pee into her jeans, she really had no choice. She could only hope that in the poorly lit bus that nobody would see what she was doing.
If she had known what Patrick and Rosemary intended, she would have go off the bus with them, because by that time she had been literally frantic for a pee and even with her furtive holding between her legs, she was not sure how much longer she could manage to hold out. Rosemary getting off had left the seat next to Bridgett empty, and she had no hesitation in using the extra space to twist her body sideways, so she could sit on her heel. Thank goodness she had worn boots, she thought, as the heel pressed hard between her legs. It was uncomfortable with he leg twisted under her, and the heel hurt where it pressed into her, but it was as good as holding herself, and she was so desperate that anything that helped her hold in her pee was worth trying.
The rest of the bus journey, Bridgett wondered if she had ever been so desperate for a pee in her life before, and if she was possibly going to be able to hold out until she reached Vanessa’s house. She was trying to move on the seat so she could get her heel to press even harder between her legs. She didn’t care how much it hurt, her bladder pain was worse, and the disgrace of peeing in her jeans, now a real possibility, was so awful she would suffer almost anything to avoid that. Without quite realising how she had done so, Bridgett had moved so that she was sitting with virtually all her weight pressing on her heel; pressing it so hard into her that she felt it would be impossible for any pee to leak out. But, the pressure in her bladder was so enormous that she did no know how she was going to hold it much longer. This had to be the very limit of what she could hold: her pee was so close to leaking out past her heel, and she was trying with all he strength to clench her bladder shut. Not knowing the area like Jane and Paul, she had no idea how much longer she would have to hold her pee, nor did she know that there was going to be a chance to pee as soon as they were off the bus. In fact she wasn’t capable of thinking anything like so logically as that. All she could think was that she desperately, frantically, wanted to pee, that she was trying with all he strength to hold it back, and that she was not going to be able to hold out much longer.
Feeling that she had reached he limit, and that she could not wait another second, she tried to press her fingers between her legs, somehow thinking that if she got them between her heel and her pee outlet, she could stop the leak that seemed almost certain. Almost? It was certain, she was sure that some pee had leaked out despite the pressure on her outlet. She must, must hold it! She was not going to wet herself in public!
Never, never, had she tried so hard to hold back her pee, but never had she wanted to go so badly. Making so much effort that she was oblivious to all her surrounding, thinking only that she must hold back her pee, Bridgett was doubled over as she pressed with both hands between her legs, trying to get even more pressure in a last frantic attempt to hold back the flood of pee that her poor, busting bladder was begging her to release, her groan of desperation made everybody sitting near her on the bus fully aware of how much she needed to pee.
Paul, sitting across the bus from her, and getting the best view of her desperation, despite the occasional distraction of Jane pressing her hand between her plaited legs and her whispered pleas of “Not much longer, Oh please not much longer, stop soon, please,” took some pity on Bridgett, and leaned across to her and said “ It’s only a couple of minutes to our stop. Nearly there, just hang on a bit longer.”
Shocked that someone had noticed how badly she wanted to pee, Bridgett almost pulled her hands from between her legs, but her instinct, that if she was not holding herself, she was not going to be able to hold her pee, saved her. Then the bus was stopping, and they were getting off. She didn’t realise that at first, so hard had she been concentrating on holding her pee, and then she hardly dared get up and try to walk, fearful that she would pee the second she did not have the pressure of her heel between her legs. Paul took her by the arm and firmly said “Come on, we’re there,” pulling her up and leading her off the bus.
With a shudder of desperation, Bridgett pressed her hand between her legs and trying to find some more strength to hold back her pee, hobbled after off the bus. Nothing mattered to her except holding back her pee and not wetting herself, so she stood on the pavement, oblivious to her surroundings, legs tied in a knot and both hands pressed between them, teeth clenched, a picture of absolute desperation, never having wanted to pee so badly in her life, and feeling that she was not going to be able to wait any longer. “Pee! Pee, I must pee!” She was pleading between clenched teeth, but what she was actually thinking was ‘I must NOT pee– I must wait! What am I going to do? I want to pee so badly’
She was pressing her hands between her legs with every ounce of her strength, and also trying to clench her bladder shut, and twist her legs so tightly together that it was going to be impossible for any pee to escape from her tortured, distended bladder. She did not, was not capable of thinking of the exhibition she was making of herself, nor could she think beyond the moment. Her only thought was that she must hold in her pee, she must not give way and wet herself.
“Come on, no point in hanging about here. Let’s start walking home. They can follow when they have finished.” Paul said, pulling Bridgett along the road. He wanted to pee, and he knew that Jane was almost frantic, and hardly capable of waiting much longer. He was amazed at how openly Bridgett was revealing her desperation, and was beginning to realise just how badly she must want to go. She did not look capable of walking 10 paces, let alone the 200 yards to Vanessa’s house, and it was going to be interesting to see how far she could get.
Bridgett who could not think of anything except her desperate need to pee, allowed herself to be pulled along the road, hardly able to walk, as she dared not un–cross her legs. The pressure of her pee was terrible, so great the she only just had enough strength, even with her legs knotted and both hands pressing into her crutch, to hold it back. She had never even imagined that she could want to pee so badly, so urgently that even holding herself with both hands, pressing with all her strength, that it might not be possible to hold back her pee, but the pressure in her bladder was too much for her body to contain any longer, and to her shame, and horror, Bridgett could feel her pee leaking out, pas her fingers. She shuddered and groaned with the effort as she tried to with all her strength to hold her pee, but she had lost control and the warm wetness of pee was spreading down her thighs. The unthinkable was happening! She was wetting herself, and Paul, Vanessa, and everyone in the house party would see. She had no choice now, she would have to pee in the street; that would be better than soaked jeans.
She gasped and pulling herself away from Paul, ran, or as much as she was able to in her condition, after Vanessa, who was disappearing behind the bus shelter, intent on one thing only, and not caring who knew it. If Vanessa had been in a panic to pee, Bridgett was almost out of her mind with the same need, and additionally hampered with having to get her skin tight jeans off, while Vanessa could simply lift her skirt and pull her (wet) knickers aside and let her pee gush out.
“Ohhhhhh!” Groaning with the effort she was making to hold her pee, Bridgett was trying to rip her jeans and knickers down, at least to her knees, so she could squat and pee.
She did not succeed, at least not as she had hoped. Without the pressure of either heel or fingers between her legs, she simply could not hold back her pee any longer; the thought of the relief to come was too much for her overworked, overstrained, sphincter. She was trying to squat and to pull her jeans down at the same time, and hold back her pee for another few seconds, but it was all too much for her any longer. Jeans and knickers were in a tangle round her thighs, when, knees bent in a half–squat position, her bladder finally gave way and nothing she could do could stop a torrent of pee gushing out, hitting the back of her jeans before she could pull them down out of the way and, at long last PEE! She was releasing a torrent with enough pressure almost to launch her into orbit, and what a relief. For a moment, the relief was all she cared about, and then the reality of he situation came home. Soaking wet jeans and knickers, squatting in public, with all of Vanessa’s house party knowing how badly she had wanted to pee. Knowing that she had not been able to wait on the short bus ride back from the pub. Seeing how wet her jeans were. She thought that, as her jeans were black, the wet would not show, or at least not too badly, and that as soon as she was back at Vanessa’s she could change into another pair. Bridgett pulled up her soaking wet knickers and jeans, and rejoined the group, trying to keep as much in the shadows as possible.
Jane and Paul were also frantic to get to the loo, but were not capable of hurrying anywhere. Now they were standing up, the pressure in their bladders was almost unbearable, and it was taking all their strength to keep control. They were holding hands tightly, the grip indicating to each other how much effort it was taking to hold in their pee. Jane’s other hand was gripping the waist–band of her trousers, pulling it up and away from her body. This was making the tighter across her crutch and also reducing the pressure on her very swollen bladder, both of which reduced her need to pee. Paul had his hand in his jeans pocket, thrust as deep as he could, and just able to press his fingers on the end of his cock, and this was just enough help to enable him to walk to Vanessa’s house without letting any pee go into his pants.
He tried to pull Jane along, to hurry to get to the house, and the pee he wanted so much. Jane tried to walk normally, still hoping to keep up the appearance of not wanting to pee, but after only two steps she was stumbling against Paul, twisting her legs into a knot and holding her crutch.
“Slowly, Paul, Slowly,” she pleaded, “I’m desperate, every step is agony for my bladder. I’m not sure I can even walk that far. Can you carry me or something? “ “Not a chance, I’m bursting too,” replied Paul, and then added maliciously, “I could give you a ‘piggy–back’”
Jane recoiled at the thought of that. “That would be torture! I would pee all over you if we tried that. You bastard! I’ll just have to manage to walk, even if it kills me.”
Furious at the situation that Paul had talked her into, Jane summoned up every ounce of strength and will power she possessed, and resolved that somehow, she was going to walk all the way to Vanessa’s house, unaided, and without giving any indication of how badly she wanted to pee.
Out of consideration for her, and his own bladder, Paul was walking more slowly, which allowed Jane, who could only take short steps while walking virtually on tip–toe, and with her knees pressed together. Even walking like this, which she was only too aware, was not a normal walk, Jane was fighting with every ounce of her strength to hold back her pee. Her hands were clenched into fists and she was shaking with the effort she was making to hold her pee. Since they had started walking, leaving the others to finish their pee, only Paul could see how desperately she was trying to hold her pee, and he whispered encouragement to her, “Hang on, not far now. You can make it.”
Jane was incapable of any reply except to groan through clenched teeth, as she was holding on with all he strength, and that was hardly enough. Now they were alone, she pressed her right hand between her legs, praying that somehow she was going to find the strength to wait a few minutes longer. Once away from the bus–shelter, there was nowhere she could hide behind and pee, so if she could not wait, she would have to squat in the road, or pee down her legs, and she would rather have died than done either.
Whimpering, almost crying like a baby, with the effort she was making to hold her pee, Jane somehow survived the walk to Vanessa’s house. For one mad moment she thought of peeing in the front garden as soon as they were through the gate, but pride gave her some more strength to hobble down the pathway.
When they were finally in the house, it was Bridgett that made a dash for the down–stairs loo, not caring how badly anyone else might want to go, only hoping that she could hide her wet jeans. Jane and Paul had to hobble upstairs to use the bathroom attached to their guest room. Vanessa glared after Jane, wondering how such a small body could hold so much pee, even hoping that she might see some small wet patch in her jeans stretched tightly between her legs. By rights she should have wet herself on the bus before Patrick got off, but instead she had held on until she was home, and not a sign of a wet patch on her trousers. As the climbed the stairs, Jane was gritting he teeth, absolutely on the brink of wetting herself and fighting to hold on a few more seconds. Paul close behind her, could see how tightly clenched her cute little bottom was; how hard she was fighting to hold her pee
“Ladies first,” she said as she pushed into their bedroom in front of Paul and tried to run to the bathroom, undoing her belt and zip as she went. Paul followed her in. “You are going to take ages, I can’t wait another second, I’ll have to use the wash basin.”
Jane had her trousers and knickers round her knees and dropped onto the loo, letting go a stream of pee as she touched the seat. Paul was standing in front of the basin and she could hear his jet of pee on the china. Both were doing steady streams that seemed likely to go on forever, and for what seemed like several minutes neither said anything groans of relief from Jane as the pressure in her bladder was eased. Jane finished first, and as she pulled up her trousers and went over to Paul, so he finished as well. They hugged each other. “Oh what a relief, I thought I was going to die walking those last few yards, then having to go upstairs. I knew Vanessa was watching me from below, so I wasn’t going to let her see me holding myself.”
Both were suffering from post–desperation bladder ache, and Jane wanted to change out of her tight trousers, but Paul suggested that if she did, Vanessa would think she had wet them in the last dash to the loo.
Downstairs, Kieran was organising more drinks as a nightcap, or painkiller for their aching bladders, and putting some music on. Vanessa came downstairs and began helping Kieran.
Paul pulled Jane close to him on the sofa, and whispered in her ear. “That dress Vanessa is wearing, you know you can see the outline of her knickers through it.”
“Yes, very common I think, though I suppose you like it.” She replied. “The outline of your knickers shows as well, if the light is right,” retorted Paul, “but that is not the point. She is wearing a different pair now to what she was in the pub. They were ‘high–cut’ then, and now they are ‘bikinis’.” Jane looked over to where Vanessa was selecting a new CD. “You’re right, you don’t think…”
“She wet her pants as she got off the bus?” Paul finished for her. “Yes, I do, she looked desperate enough. Why else would she change her knickers? Come to think of it, it is pretty obvious why Bridgett has changed her jeans, don’t you think?”
Oh beautiful, thought Jane, sometime during the weekend she was going to let Vanessa know that she knew she had wet her knickers, and see how she reacted. That last agonising walk from the bus stop had been worth it after all. She might be the smallest and youngest of the girls in the party, but she had drunk as much as the others, and she had held in her pee until she got home to a proper loo.
Correspondence on this or other desperation fantasies welcome at Paul_Tester144@Yahoo.co.uk
By: Paul tester