A Three-hour Tour

When I finally completed my divorce and moved to Michigan, I was so happy to be away from ex in Florida and near my sister. After a month of being a single parent of three relocated teenagers, my sister and her husband invited me for a much–needed day on their powerboat.
It was a hot day so I drank a lot of water on the way. Because of the stress I had been under, they had lots of drinks prepared– a cooler full of beer, margaritas and bloody marys ready to go. I am not an alcoholic by any means, but I do love my happy hour.
The first hour was great, going up and down Lake Michigan. It got much cooler out on the lake but the more I drank the less it bothered me. It was really fun, until… It started as feeling of fullness in my lower belly and after about 15 minutes it was clear. I had to pee… BAD! The fullness in my belly soon became a shooting, urgent pressure on my vagina that was taking more and more strength to control.
For a while I didn’t say anything. I am stubborn as a mule and refuse to admit I have problem to anyone unless they can help me, and I knew they could not. We were out on small boat with no bathroom in the middle of Lake Michigan with at least another hour or so to get to this other marina where my brother–in–law’s friend owns a restaurant on the water. Plus I am an adult in my forties and I have raised three kids. Even if I had to go real bad I felt as if I could and should definitely be able to control my bladder until we got somewhere.
So I kept it to myself as best I could. Squirming and crossing my legs, curling my toes, gritting my teeth and grimacing when my sister and her husband, who were sitting up front where looking straight ahead. When one would turn around to talk to me I just kept my legs together, tapped my feet and simply looked like I was tired of sitting.
After almost two hours I was getting desperate. I now had my hand between my thighs. The idea of holding my vagina seemed foreign to me, something a small child would do. The other two must have though I was just cold. I though the trip would only take two hours but there was no land in sight, Lake Michigan is huge and you feel like you are in the middle of the ocean. My heart sank when they told me it was another hour at least.
It must have sank into my bladder because never in my entire adult life did I have to pee as badly as I did at that moment.
I hissed through my teeth, crossed one leg over the other and contorted every muscle in my body to hold in my pee. It felt like this burning fluid was pressing with all its strength on my vagina opening, just inches from leaving my body and going all over the boat, which it would have done. Over my bathing suit I was only wearing a pair of gym shorts and a white tee shirt. I bent down a little but the increased abdominal pressure almost made me lose control right there.
They were still oblivious to my situation. They started pouring more drinks for each other and I thought I would die seeing all the liquid. I looked away only to see all the waving liquid called Lake Michigan. I did not think it would be possible to have to pee worse than I already did, but I did. Each time it got worse I would pound my feet up and down, close my eyes shut, and will it to go away, but it did not.
I flat out refused any more drinks, which they thought was strange but gave little thought to. With each passing moment I had to go more badly and would have to find a different position to hold it in. I would cross my legs tighter but that would add more pain on my bladder. I would then open my legs just a little but felt that I could easily lose control. I would then twist my legs in a knot and contort my whole body and whimper in pain.
I still could not bring myself to grab my crotch like some people might do when they have to go this bad, but it was at that moment that thought of wetting myself in the boat became a reality. I felt so helpless and ashamed. Here I was, a mother of 3 in her forties on the verge of losing control of my bladder. Like my mother was with me, I was very strict with my kids when it came to toilet training. In my family, you just did not wet yourself after a certain age. In fact, we never even talk about our bathroom habits with each other.
Then my sister took out a camera and said she would take my picture. I could not bring myself to say anything. With my legs now uncrossed I tried to remain as composed as possible, relying only on my cramping vaginal muscles to hold back the ferocious force of my pee and grinding my teeth. Before she could take the picture, I had another intense urge to pee. I tried to remain as still as possible, but it was no use. I began to shake violently, pounding my feet so hard that the boat rocked. I then winced my eyes shut and yelled out in pain. My sister took the camera away from her face and her husband turned around, both looking at me like I was crazy. There was no keeping this from them any longer.
“My god what’s a matter with you?” she said as she sat next to me.
“I…I…I really gotta pee” I could barely speak or catch my breath by now.
“So, can’t you wait?” she said somewhat unsympathetically. “It’s only 1/2 hour until we get there.”
“NOOOOO!” I cried out. “I…I have to go so bad, Ah God I’m in agony!” There was no sense in keeping composed any more. “Please we gotta stop somewhere! Ohh I can’t hold it any more!”
“You mean you might, ah, wet your pants”? She whispered with shock into my ear.
“YES, YES” I shouted, “I’m gonna pee in this boat damn it.”
That got her husband’s attention, which was kind of the idea. As I twisted in my seat and panted like I was in labor, he said there was nothing he could do. Land was getting closer and I begged him to let me get out there. He said the patrol boats are all over the place and since he had been drinking, he would not want to get stopped by them.
So I was resolved to hold it in. Over the next 25 minutes, I did everything possible to do so. I wrapped my legs around each other; bent all the way down, and with my hands closed my legs even further at the ankles. Oh I had to pee so badly! When bending down was too painful for my bladder, I sat back up and put a fist between my clenched thighs and rubbed them together. Each time the pressure on my vagina would agonizingly increase, so would the amount of strength it took me to try close my legs with. I had to shut them so forcefully it made me feel like my whole crotch was cramping up. I then bit my lip and whimpered as I finally felt I could not hold it in any longer. Several times I had felt I would lose control, somehow just managing to hold on. With great shame and reluctance, I was forced to hold myself for the first time in my adult life. My sister and her husband turned away and shook their heads. They were not very sympathetic or amused.
As we approached the harbor she begged me to get a hold of myself. I tried as best I could, putting a towel over my lap so no one could see me holding, or God forbid, wetting myself. I kept my mouth and eyes shut as tight as my legs were crossed, hissing through my teeth.
Knowing how little help they would be, I simply leapt off the boat when we docked and frantically searched for a bathroom on my own. I saw what looked like a main office. When I shrieked, “Where is the bathroom?” I was sure I would wet myself since I had to take my hand off my vagina. I was forced to do what my kids used to call the pee dance. I was so ashamed. He said the one for boaters is up the path. I screamed how badly I had to go and that it was an emergency and I could not make it up any path, but he would not budge.
The second I was out of there my hand was back holding myself, just in time before I would have lost control. I bent down and did a awkward looking hobble up some path, puffing gulps of air through my mouth. Several times I just had to stop with my legs crossed or I would have wet myself right there.
I finally came to what was a row of a few outhouses. Each had a line of several people, mostly children and their parents. I got to the back of the shortest line and knew I wouldn’t make it. I then cut to the front of the only line with no children and pounded on the door. I then had to do another violent version of that pee dance and yell out on pain. Then some woman pushed me aside and said I had to wait like everyone else. I couldn’t wait. I was in a wooded area so I headed, rather hobbled– for the trees. When I felt I was safely out of view behind a big enough tree, I already had my shorts down to my knees. I pulled my big tee shirt up and then pulled the crotch of my swimsuit aside and before I could squat I finally, FINALLY let my pee gush out.
Its monstrous force, along with the upward angle of my crotch from pulling the swimsuit to its side, allowed me to pee almost horizontally. It also prevented me from squatting fully, so I was actually peeing somewhat standing up, kind of like a man. And oh, oh, oh the relief. It was better than any pleasure my ex had given me in almost 5 years. It was the first time I could actually see it coming out of me, ever. The stream made a massive sound as it hit the loose ground below and it flowed all over the place and foamed.
After several minutes the force died down enough for me to squat fully and finally relax a little as a tried to catch my breath. I still kept going and going. Soon I had to stop and find another spot or my feet would get wet. I did not think it would be possible for so much urine to come out of me under so much pressure, or that holding it in could be so painful, or that I could feel so close to wetting myself, or that finally peeing would be so wonderful. This was all new to me.
Finally I was done. I knew my suit would be a little wet when I pulled it over my dripping crotch but it did not matter. Once I had my shorts up I sat on the ground and tried to gather myself. I clutched my lower belly and closed my eyes for a second. Despite the relief, my bladder was still in pain.
I walked down the path to see a lot of people staring at me, including my sister and brother in law, but they learned to appreciate my predicament as they almost wet themselves on the boat ride home.
PeeGuy