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The Girl in the Concert
I'm not going to be a lurker. Brand new to the board, no better way to introduce myself than with a little contribution! I feel I should let you know, this isn't the first time I told this story. There's one other forum which I posted it on, there I pretty much improvised - as if there is some other way of writing - but I just sat there and wrote, no planning or structure. I haven't edited it for this board. I know it's sort of cheating then but I promise I was thinking about you the whole time. Please don't kick me out of bed.
And, go!
Samantha was sitting quietly in the corner of the 'green room', the waiting room behind the concert hall. A twenty-one year old student of Music, her university holds a music festival each year for the graduates and the talented new students alike to display their talents to the public, adoring parents, fellow students and teachers - whoever wants to watch. Quietly she's fingering the notes on an invisible piano, the same notes over and over again. She's nervous, doesn't feel prepared. She wishes she's just played her piece once more - Schumann's Kinderscenen. The audience are in, and the first performance is already underway. Samantha is up third, in around fifteen minutes. She feels the need to pee but she knows that nervous adreneline has this effect and ignores it, it will go away when she begins. She also feels thirsty, but she's much too worried to drink. She gives up with the imaginary piano, drops her head and rubs her temples.
One foot steps into view, a black shoe on the end of a black trouser leg. Then another - identical, it must be the same person. She looks up to see Tim, a genius with his voice in song but the most annoying joker she's met. She knows he's handsome, she knows that he's funny and she knows that she would love for him to take her out, but she very nearly has a headache and as she gazes up at him, she realises there is nobody she's rather see less at this moment.
"Nervous" he asks with mismatching gay abandon.
That was clearly unnecessary.
"It's a big crowd." Something in his voice screams for a slap. He holds out an almost empty bottle of water. "It'll calm your nerves, trust me." She takes it, opens it and sniffs. It smells of, well, it has no smell. She drinks from it. Realising it's only water, and the wetness of it realising her thirst was quite desperate, she gulps it down. Tim, of course, continues talking like an arse, while she sits there emptying his bottle in silence, going over her performance. She finishes the bottle and eyes it.
"Refill?"
"I told you it would calm your nerves. I'll got fill it up." Finally, he's gone, a little silence. No less than five minutes later, he's back. The bottle is now full and he hands it to her while inviting himself to sit next to her. She commences to drink once again, as he continues his jibber. She doesn't notice how occasionally he throws in the word "wet", or "water" - the latter being part of the conversation literally in hand. He's telling her a story to calm her nerves now, she realises, ignoring how there was a "leak" in the ceiling and it was "dripping onto the floor beside him all performance long. Drip, drip, drip". He's even bold enough to mention that he's "desperate to pee", which she overlooks as he grabs the now empty bottle from her to refill that and empty himself.
"Much better" he smiles - again with a full bottle.
"No, I'm okay now." She takes it anyway, just to hold. At some point he takes it from her to drink, and out of some subconscious jealousy she takes a couple of sips. The audience, she hears are now in rapturous applause, and that was the second performer. She's up. Three pieces - Schumann's Kinderscenen Numbers One, Three and Eleleven. She stands, breathes in, nerves at their height and a sudden urge for the toilet results. She marches on, up the stairs and into heaven.
She steps out into view - crosses the stage to a polite, welcoming audience. It feels like a long way, each step feeling more and more nervous and more and more like she needs to pee. It's a big room, Seating easily 1000 on tiers and the majority of those seats are full. Careful not to show the crowd more than they asked for in her short, flowing evening dress, she slides between the piano and stool and sits. Just as soon as she sits, she suddenly feels very wet. She realises, quickly touching the stool, that it is soaking. The last person to play at the piano was a young man with a nervous dispostion and a little disgusted and thrown for the performance, she grimaces but continues. "You must not make a fuss, just play the damn piece" she tells herself, sitting in his pee.
She raises her hands above the notes, prepares to begin, with a very sudden desire to urinate herself but she's here now, no turning back. With a tiny gasp undetected to the audience and as if they were joined by a direct nerve, her bladder control and her hands act as one. Dropping her hands to play the first notes, she feels a drop of pee overflow into her panties. She's playing now, so no stopping. She can hold it in.
Finally, the end of number One. She pauses for a moment, the room silent. She feels as though everybody knows what shes's done and what she needs to do, but she persuades herself, all in these few seconds between the pieces, that they dont. Unfortunately now is Three, the longest. Desperate not to push her hands on her crotch, she raises her hands once again to play. Play she does, but it's slow and the melody falls like water. Very suddenly she feels a squirt erupt into her damp panties, gasps quietly, blushing fully but playing consistantly. Surely everybody in the room can smell it, the small amount of pee that she just poured out? Surely they can see it? Towards the end of the middle piece now, nearly home and nearly dry... but with another crushing pull in her bladder another squirt wets her pretty cotton panties. She's almost in tears, she wants to get off stage. Everyone is laughing at her, she is sure of it. She finishes.
Now in a rush, she gives barely a moments pause before undertaking Eleven, the final short piece, the scary one full of jumps. She doesnt even hover her hands over the keyboard in preperation, but she ploughs on. Straight into it, slow beginning. Please hurry. Please get through this. She feels her pee is about to overflow, she is weeping as she plays. All at once the suddenly fast section begins, a tear falls from her eye onto her dress and she realises the toilets are minutes away from the stage. Suddenly with the wetness of the tear and the realisation and the frantic music, she feels a huge squirt flow into her underwear. It feels warm and somewhat pleasing to let it go but not here, not with 900 people watching. Nobody can see from the side that she is crying but her eyes are streaming, and her pee is about to. Suddenly the piece ends, yet she knows the last eruption was the final warning. It was huge, she knows it. She could feel it creeping up the back of her panties in the seat.
The audience applauds loudly and receptively. She's on the brink, but she must bow. She must stand up, bend over and stand back up again, all will be a test - and then she must walk off, and then she must find the toilet. She knows, she is positive she wont make it. "Perhaps I can find somewhere to do it without being noticed" she suggests... "but in a theatre?" she replies. She's standing now, facing the audience who can now see the tears. She even hears an 'aww' from a few close members. She bends over, and suddenly it gives way, it was too much. She feels herself losing control of her bladder, right there, mid bow. She whimpers to the floor, then moans as she feels it begin to flow out. The audience realise by now something is very wrong, she should have finished her bow - but the closest can hear it. They can hear the warm pee dropping from her wet panties onto the floor of the stage, and they can see it bounce back up as it hits. Suddenly silence, everyone has now stopped applauding, the sound of pee hitting puddle on hard floor bounces all around the perfectly shaped theatre. Gasps from various sections as Samantha drops to her knees in defeat, the pee still flowing through her soaked panties, never ending. Kneeling now, the pee continues to flow, warm and refreshing. She pushes a hand to her crotch, as if she could stop it, and in her desperate last ditch state she pushes the front of the dress onto her crotch too. He hand where it is and the intense relaxation she's feeling, she begins to feel even a little excited. Shes rubbing her hand very slowly on her pussy, trying to make it end, the movement of her fingers against her pussy turning her on - but the flow ends. Mortified, she gets up, and runs off stage, through the Green Room. The tears are flowing from her as everyone waiting to perform watches her with confused apprehension.
She reaches the door, not looking up, and hits something. Something strong and stiff and unmoving - Tim.
"How did it go?"
She looks at him now, in the eyes, and lets out a shocked gasp through the tears.
"Oh, I see. Not so well, huh?" His eyes had not yet left his face. He drops them, her legs glisten a little in a particular light. "Oh." His face lights and he smiles broadly. "Had a little accident?"
"You..." She tries to insult him. She's too nice though, she rarely calls on insults in anger and has nothing.
"I did nothing! I offered you some water, you drank it." She reels in horror, and lifts up her skirt so the entire room can see what she did to her pretty, pale blue cotton panties. They're almost completely a new shade of blue.
"This! You did this to me!" Everyone gasps.
"You did that to yourself" he tells her, suddenly reaching out and pushing his hand against her still warm, wet knickers. "I didn't make you do a single thing, you went and wet yourself on stage and it was all your fault." His fingers now pushing hard into her pussy, so soft and wet. Still aroused and loving the feeling of someone elses fingers on her soaking wet pussy, she suddenly finds herself pushing all of her weight into the powerful man and pushing her face into his shoulder, desperate for him to pleasure her but revolted by him at the same time. Everybody watches as she starts to moan, muffled into his shoulder. She's never felt this good before, he slides a hand into her panties and a finger into her. In just a few long seconds she gasps and screams and even dribbles, all into the man's shoulder, in the most intense orgasm she's ever felt.
She goes limp suddenly, without him she'd be slumped on the floor right now. Breathing heavily and never more embarassed in her life, she regains a little of herself and takes her weight back. Trying not to make eye contact with anybody, his hand now out of her underwear but still in her skirt - she slides off his arm and runs out.
The room maintains a stunned silence as she runs from earshot.
And, go!
Samantha was sitting quietly in the corner of the 'green room', the waiting room behind the concert hall. A twenty-one year old student of Music, her university holds a music festival each year for the graduates and the talented new students alike to display their talents to the public, adoring parents, fellow students and teachers - whoever wants to watch. Quietly she's fingering the notes on an invisible piano, the same notes over and over again. She's nervous, doesn't feel prepared. She wishes she's just played her piece once more - Schumann's Kinderscenen. The audience are in, and the first performance is already underway. Samantha is up third, in around fifteen minutes. She feels the need to pee but she knows that nervous adreneline has this effect and ignores it, it will go away when she begins. She also feels thirsty, but she's much too worried to drink. She gives up with the imaginary piano, drops her head and rubs her temples.
One foot steps into view, a black shoe on the end of a black trouser leg. Then another - identical, it must be the same person. She looks up to see Tim, a genius with his voice in song but the most annoying joker she's met. She knows he's handsome, she knows that he's funny and she knows that she would love for him to take her out, but she very nearly has a headache and as she gazes up at him, she realises there is nobody she's rather see less at this moment.
"Nervous" he asks with mismatching gay abandon.
That was clearly unnecessary.
"It's a big crowd." Something in his voice screams for a slap. He holds out an almost empty bottle of water. "It'll calm your nerves, trust me." She takes it, opens it and sniffs. It smells of, well, it has no smell. She drinks from it. Realising it's only water, and the wetness of it realising her thirst was quite desperate, she gulps it down. Tim, of course, continues talking like an arse, while she sits there emptying his bottle in silence, going over her performance. She finishes the bottle and eyes it.
"Refill?"
"I told you it would calm your nerves. I'll got fill it up." Finally, he's gone, a little silence. No less than five minutes later, he's back. The bottle is now full and he hands it to her while inviting himself to sit next to her. She commences to drink once again, as he continues his jibber. She doesn't notice how occasionally he throws in the word "wet", or "water" - the latter being part of the conversation literally in hand. He's telling her a story to calm her nerves now, she realises, ignoring how there was a "leak" in the ceiling and it was "dripping onto the floor beside him all performance long. Drip, drip, drip". He's even bold enough to mention that he's "desperate to pee", which she overlooks as he grabs the now empty bottle from her to refill that and empty himself.
"Much better" he smiles - again with a full bottle.
"No, I'm okay now." She takes it anyway, just to hold. At some point he takes it from her to drink, and out of some subconscious jealousy she takes a couple of sips. The audience, she hears are now in rapturous applause, and that was the second performer. She's up. Three pieces - Schumann's Kinderscenen Numbers One, Three and Eleleven. She stands, breathes in, nerves at their height and a sudden urge for the toilet results. She marches on, up the stairs and into heaven.
She steps out into view - crosses the stage to a polite, welcoming audience. It feels like a long way, each step feeling more and more nervous and more and more like she needs to pee. It's a big room, Seating easily 1000 on tiers and the majority of those seats are full. Careful not to show the crowd more than they asked for in her short, flowing evening dress, she slides between the piano and stool and sits. Just as soon as she sits, she suddenly feels very wet. She realises, quickly touching the stool, that it is soaking. The last person to play at the piano was a young man with a nervous dispostion and a little disgusted and thrown for the performance, she grimaces but continues. "You must not make a fuss, just play the damn piece" she tells herself, sitting in his pee.
She raises her hands above the notes, prepares to begin, with a very sudden desire to urinate herself but she's here now, no turning back. With a tiny gasp undetected to the audience and as if they were joined by a direct nerve, her bladder control and her hands act as one. Dropping her hands to play the first notes, she feels a drop of pee overflow into her panties. She's playing now, so no stopping. She can hold it in.
Finally, the end of number One. She pauses for a moment, the room silent. She feels as though everybody knows what shes's done and what she needs to do, but she persuades herself, all in these few seconds between the pieces, that they dont. Unfortunately now is Three, the longest. Desperate not to push her hands on her crotch, she raises her hands once again to play. Play she does, but it's slow and the melody falls like water. Very suddenly she feels a squirt erupt into her damp panties, gasps quietly, blushing fully but playing consistantly. Surely everybody in the room can smell it, the small amount of pee that she just poured out? Surely they can see it? Towards the end of the middle piece now, nearly home and nearly dry... but with another crushing pull in her bladder another squirt wets her pretty cotton panties. She's almost in tears, she wants to get off stage. Everyone is laughing at her, she is sure of it. She finishes.
Now in a rush, she gives barely a moments pause before undertaking Eleven, the final short piece, the scary one full of jumps. She doesnt even hover her hands over the keyboard in preperation, but she ploughs on. Straight into it, slow beginning. Please hurry. Please get through this. She feels her pee is about to overflow, she is weeping as she plays. All at once the suddenly fast section begins, a tear falls from her eye onto her dress and she realises the toilets are minutes away from the stage. Suddenly with the wetness of the tear and the realisation and the frantic music, she feels a huge squirt flow into her underwear. It feels warm and somewhat pleasing to let it go but not here, not with 900 people watching. Nobody can see from the side that she is crying but her eyes are streaming, and her pee is about to. Suddenly the piece ends, yet she knows the last eruption was the final warning. It was huge, she knows it. She could feel it creeping up the back of her panties in the seat.
The audience applauds loudly and receptively. She's on the brink, but she must bow. She must stand up, bend over and stand back up again, all will be a test - and then she must walk off, and then she must find the toilet. She knows, she is positive she wont make it. "Perhaps I can find somewhere to do it without being noticed" she suggests... "but in a theatre?" she replies. She's standing now, facing the audience who can now see the tears. She even hears an 'aww' from a few close members. She bends over, and suddenly it gives way, it was too much. She feels herself losing control of her bladder, right there, mid bow. She whimpers to the floor, then moans as she feels it begin to flow out. The audience realise by now something is very wrong, she should have finished her bow - but the closest can hear it. They can hear the warm pee dropping from her wet panties onto the floor of the stage, and they can see it bounce back up as it hits. Suddenly silence, everyone has now stopped applauding, the sound of pee hitting puddle on hard floor bounces all around the perfectly shaped theatre. Gasps from various sections as Samantha drops to her knees in defeat, the pee still flowing through her soaked panties, never ending. Kneeling now, the pee continues to flow, warm and refreshing. She pushes a hand to her crotch, as if she could stop it, and in her desperate last ditch state she pushes the front of the dress onto her crotch too. He hand where it is and the intense relaxation she's feeling, she begins to feel even a little excited. Shes rubbing her hand very slowly on her pussy, trying to make it end, the movement of her fingers against her pussy turning her on - but the flow ends. Mortified, she gets up, and runs off stage, through the Green Room. The tears are flowing from her as everyone waiting to perform watches her with confused apprehension.
She reaches the door, not looking up, and hits something. Something strong and stiff and unmoving - Tim.
"How did it go?"
She looks at him now, in the eyes, and lets out a shocked gasp through the tears.
"Oh, I see. Not so well, huh?" His eyes had not yet left his face. He drops them, her legs glisten a little in a particular light. "Oh." His face lights and he smiles broadly. "Had a little accident?"
"You..." She tries to insult him. She's too nice though, she rarely calls on insults in anger and has nothing.
"I did nothing! I offered you some water, you drank it." She reels in horror, and lifts up her skirt so the entire room can see what she did to her pretty, pale blue cotton panties. They're almost completely a new shade of blue.
"This! You did this to me!" Everyone gasps.
"You did that to yourself" he tells her, suddenly reaching out and pushing his hand against her still warm, wet knickers. "I didn't make you do a single thing, you went and wet yourself on stage and it was all your fault." His fingers now pushing hard into her pussy, so soft and wet. Still aroused and loving the feeling of someone elses fingers on her soaking wet pussy, she suddenly finds herself pushing all of her weight into the powerful man and pushing her face into his shoulder, desperate for him to pleasure her but revolted by him at the same time. Everybody watches as she starts to moan, muffled into his shoulder. She's never felt this good before, he slides a hand into her panties and a finger into her. In just a few long seconds she gasps and screams and even dribbles, all into the man's shoulder, in the most intense orgasm she's ever felt.
She goes limp suddenly, without him she'd be slumped on the floor right now. Breathing heavily and never more embarassed in her life, she regains a little of herself and takes her weight back. Trying not to make eye contact with anybody, his hand now out of her underwear but still in her skirt - she slides off his arm and runs out.
The room maintains a stunned silence as she runs from earshot.
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