A True Story

Hi! I really like your website. Something happened to me today that I want to share. There was a tube strike in London today and for the thousands of people who normally use the tube to get to work every day, it made things very difficult. I live a bit out of London and have to get a train in, and then normally get the tube to the office. With out the tube it’s about an hour’s walk from Waterloo station. I don’t bother with buses, as they are too full and stop at every street, so they would take ages to get me where I want to go. Anyway, I got to work in the morning OK. Work was the same as usual, but in the afternoon I started feeling a bit tired, so started to up my coffee intake. I was also feeling quite warm, so regularly drank water from the cooler. Anyway, the last time I went to the toilet before leaving was about 4:30. I kept the water and coffee up until I left at 5. About half way through the walk back to Waterloo, I realized that I needed to pee, but of course walking through the center of London to try and get my train home, I wasn’t really in a position to stop anywhere or I would have missed the train. The worst thing was that my train is on the slow line (about 8 stops before where I was going) and the type of train that I get has no toilets! Still, I knew I could go at Waterloo if I got there with time to spare. However, because there were so many other people crowding the streets, and because everyone walks so damn slowly (!), it was becoming obvious that I’d only make the train with seconds to spare. It was hard to walk fast with a full bladder, and the feeling was made worse by the tight jeans I was wearing. I’m lucky as my type of job allows me to wear what I want in the office. At least while I was walking my legs were moving and I could keep my mind on holding in my pee. But when I needed to wait to cross the road, it was really difficult to stand still. I have a bag with a big shoulder strap, so I arranged it so that it hung over my belly, which allowed my to put my hand under it discreetly and hold myself. I didn’t want to do this as people might notice, but my need increased as I walked and I needed to grab myself a few times while walking. God, I really needed to pee! My bladder started to get hard with the amount of liquid in it, and all I could think about was getting to a toilet and relieving myself. I really started wishing that I hadn’t drunk all that water and coffee at work. As I got closer to the station, my need increased – I suppose I was imagining using the toilet there, and that always makes the need to pee worse! It quickly became obvious that I’d never have time to pee before the train left, and because I’m on a line that is not served very frequently, I really wanted to get the next train. I consoled myself with the fact that I could get away with more sitting down on a seat and holding myself with careful placement of my bag! As predicted, I got to Waterloo with only seconds to spare, so I’d have to try and bear the journey home with a straining bladder. Now all that coffee was really making itself heard, and the thought crossed my mind that I might not make it home dry. Phrases like “God, I’m so desperate!” and “I REALLY need to pee!” were going through my mind every few seconds. The train was pretty full at first and I had to stand. “Damn!” I thought; this wasn’t what I wanted. I did my bag trick and crossed my legs tight. As each minute ticked by, my bladder muscles got more and more strained. It sometimes felt like I had already peed as I was getting hot flushes in my legs, but after a quick visual check, I saw that I was OK. For now… When I could finally sit down, I instantly put my bag on my lap and held myself with both hands. However, additional pressures on my bladder from my jeans while in the sitting position made things feel all the more desperate. “I wish I could just go here!” I kept thinking, but I managed to hold on. The train gradually emptied out, and the idea of trying to pee somewhere in the carriage kept coming back to me. But even if there is only 1 other person in the same car, you just can’t pee inconspicuously! However, it was fast becoming a do–or–die situation. With only a few minutes to my stop, my bladder gave its first involuntary squeeze. I held on for all I was worth, but I knew some pee had got out. I felt some warm dampness with one of my hands, and tried to sneak a look at my crotch. It was wet, but only over a very small area. I could probably make it home with my bag covering me up, but if my bum got wet I’d be in trouble. I decided to try standing for the last few minutes to minimize the chances of that happening. When you stand up, you REALLY know how desperate you are! I instantly had to bend my knees and dip with both hands between my legs to avoid a disaster. I knew that this was going to be close! The train pulled into my station, and I started the walk to my flat. Every step was so difficult. Each time I was expecting to feel my panties get wetter, but I managed to hold it in a little longer. I was really glad it was dark on my route, as it would hide any accident I might have. About half way home, I suddenly realized that my left thigh was damp! I’d been releasing a very slow stream into my jeans for a minute or so that had slowly blotted across the denim. The pee had gone down the inside of my leg, and I realized that it must surely be visible, at least in some part, from behind. I managed to stop the flow, but now I was really hurting, and I knew I was headed to a watery end! I hung on as best I could until I reached the front door, but had to stand still while I got my keys out. My legs were shaking, my bladder was bulging, and I was making my muscles fight until the very end. Just when I was trying to get the keys in the door, I felt the beginning of the end. My bladder contracted on it’s own; I held on with my free hand for all I was worth, but I just couldn’t help gushing into my jeans. I pressed my legs together as tightly as I could, and turned the key. Stepping forward into the hall caused the second soaker. My panties were saturated, my bum was warm and I could feel a stream of piss on my right calf. I closed the door and made for the nearest mirror, letting go more bursts on the way. I was thankful that I’d not wet myself too badly before I’d got home, but now that I was there and it was happening, I didn’t want to miss it. I watched in the mirror as my blue jeans darkened, first in long lines down the inside seams, then in great patches across my thighs. I did a quick twirl and noticed that my bum was pretty wet too. I love the look of peed denim, and I was amazed at how much of my jeans I’d turned dark. My legs were soaked, I’d made a small puddle, (better clean that up actually!) and I felt warmth all over the bottom half of my body. I love to wet myself, and the sight of the damage that I had done really turned me on. So, I’d wet my jeans. It wasn’t planned, but it was certainly appreciated! I kept my clinging wet panties on while I got myself off. I love the smell of stale pee! Maybe I’ll be more careful when there’s another tube strike. Or maybe not!
Sarah Jane