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Introduction
After overhearing a conversation between two ladies at a cafe recently, telling how one of them had broken down on a back road at night and how she had been bursting for a wee while waiting for the breakdown call out to arrive, My imagination presented me with a thrilling story. All I had to do was write it down. So here's (with a goodly measure of authors prerogative) how I imagined she coped with the adventure.
The Story
I know, I know! I should have used Ann's toilet but I much prefer to use my own loo; especially when I'm wearing any of my posh outfits. Besides, I'll admit to getting a buzz from managing a full bladder at times. Tonight be one of those times, as I sensed it telling me it was comfortably-full but nothing like urgent, so that partly accounted for why I skipped using Ann's loo. If my drive home had gone to plan, I would have been home (and dry) in twenty minutes; half an hour, tops, but maybe the Gods conspired against me that night, as my trip took hours, left me wet through and exhausted!
The evening had been a delight. I was enjoying Tom and Sarah's wedding reception, as was Ann (my best friend from my school days). The free Champaign was rather too eagerly enjoyed by Ann and by me, to a lesser degree. The plan was for me to drive Ann home later so I was careful not to overdue the 'bubbly'. Ann was very merry by the time we had agreed to leave. I think I was a little giggly but didn't feel driving would be a problem, so it was around eleven when we said our farewells. The fifty minute drive to Ann's went smoothly enough. As we arrived she quickly hobbled to the loo, saying how she was about to burst. My own bladder was saying to me 'Me too!' but as I said earlier, I judged it safe to wait another half an hour or so, so I could relish the tingle of a full bladder longer and enjoy the use of my own loo later.
I was keen to be on my way but had of course to wait for her to return from the loo. I visualized the sensation she would be enjoying as her bladder was finally allowed to empty. My bladder, on the other hand, would have to be content with its contents for a while yet. Even though we have been best friends for many years, I wouldn't ever tell her that I get tuned-on by a bursting bladder. That's my little secret!
It took me a while before I could get away since Ann was intent on talking about the wedding. As I finally made my exit, Ann asked me if I might need the loo, and I nearly said yes. I should have said 'Oh yes' and unburdened my bladder there and then but with only twenty minute drive ahead of me, and my unwillingness to fight my party dress and body shaper in order wee - and the pleasurable prospect of a tingling bladder to enjoy, I mumbled something about being fine, and with that, said goodnight to Ann.
Ann lives on an estate who's roads are infested with speed bumps. One might find them objectionable at any time but if you need a wee; well, then you really feel them! The drive soon takes me through a short wooded section before opening out to a stretch beside fields. As I rounded a bent just a thousand yards or so into the wooded section, the car suddenly made a bang-bang-bang sound and I lost power, also there appeared clouds of steam from the engine. Clearly something had blown-up. Several jets of steaming water hit the windscreen and in that instant I thought that the car's bladder must have burst! Do cars have bladders? Whatever it was that had burst, my car certainly wasn't going to take me home now. The slight incline of the road let me roll forward a little way before finally stopping. I sat there behind the wheel stunned for a moment or two until I realized I had to quickly assess the awful mess I was now in. A lone female, stranded on a secluded road at night - and very much in need of a loo! My second concern (the first being my bladder) was how close the car was to the bend. Anyone following at speed would probably crash into me. I remember having a warning triangle in the boot, and I simply had to walk back round the bend to warn drivers of the hazard ahead. As I stood up, my bladder throbbed and I had to quickly regain control by crossing my legs and clenching my muscles hard. Perhaps the shock of what had just happened had turned by comfortably full bladder into an accident about to happen. Soon a measure of control returned and I was able to continue with my plan. Neither my dress or my shoes were designed for ease of walking and even with the aid of a torch, I stumbled and almost fell on the rough road several times. With the triangle placed where I judged it would work best I returned to my sad looking car. Some steam was still issuing from the front grill. Next, I needed to call out the breakdown service. I thought that getting back in the car might be unsafe but it had started raining and standing was not bladder-friendly, so reluctantly I got in the passenger's side and fished-out my phone. I had only recently taken out roadside assist with the AA, so fortunately remembered putting the details in the glove compartment. My heart was pounding as I turned on my phone. It skipped a beat when I saw there wasn't a signal. Now I really was in a fix! Don't panic, I firmly told myself. Try from outside the car, I thought. I had no choice really. Getting out in the rain was dreadful. I had a brolly in the boot which I retrieved quickly but oh - my poor bladder! I had again to fight the urge to wee with all my strength. This was a fine situation to be in and no mistake. Weeing was my biggest problem, but there was no way I was going to perform a squat-wee; not in this dress, not in the rain, not in the dark. It looked like I was going to get very wet!
I tried the phone again and after a few moments anxiety, I got a weak signal. Thank God, I said out loud. At least the second most urgent problem was solvable. The first problem remained. I explained my plight - lone female on country road with steaming and broken car. I wanted to add 'and bursting for a loo' but didn't. I don't think roadside assist includes emergency portable toilets. The operator assured me it would be a priority call out but might still be up to an hour before they could get to me. An hour!!! Oh God. My primary problem wouldn't permit a delay of an hour, and that's only to getting a man to me. Assuming the car wasn't going to be fixed by the roadside, it would probably mean a tow to a local garage but at this late an hour, God knows how long that would take.
Just then a car came round the bent. It slowed as it passed then continued on its way. I was furious he or she hadn't stopped to render assistance but then I thought what if it had been a sex maniac at the wheel. I was suddenly glad he hadn't stopped. My concern as to my vulnerability led me to believing I would be safer out of view, so no one would see me and be tempted to attack me. I stood back in the bushes. I could still see my car but I didn't believe motorists would see me. My high-heels sank in the mud. my brolly was keeping the rain off my head and shoulders but the rest of my dress was getting quite wet. I looked at my watch in the dim glow of my torch and what seemed like an age was less than ten minutes from the time I had called for help. My bladder was now past the urgent stage and was approaching bursting but I concentrated on the ache and how I could at times turn the ache into an arousing sensation, when I was in the mood. The situation wasn't conducive to pleasure but if it would hold my bladder in check for a while longer, it was worth trying. I pressed a hand over my bladder gently, as I did when in the mood and was rewarded with the delightful tingle that precedes arousal. This could work! I gently rubbed the front of my skirt which helped me think of my bladder as a thing of joy and not a threat. It was working. I realized I could easily find myself strongly aroused by my actions, but then...
Headlights appeared as the vehicle clearly was stopping behind my car. My state of pre-arousal evaporated in an instant as I watched before showing myself. Thankfully it was an AA van. I stepped out, back onto the road. My sudden appearance from the bushes startled the man as he looked up from shining his torch through the driver's side window. "Hi" I said, in as calm a voice as I could manage. He looked up at me and shone his torch in my eyes. "Hello madam" He said in a deep reassuring voice. I must have looked a bedraggled mess because on moving I could feel my soaked skirt and much of my bodice clinging and dragging on me. Thankfully it wasn't a cold night.
"Let's see what's the problem" He said while patting the top of my car with a gloved hand. I might have said that my biggest problem was where and how to take a wee but of course I didn't. Instead I told him how steam had spurted out just before the engine cut out. He lifted the bonnet and cast his attention to the problem in hand. I cast my attention to my problem in hand. I think I had already come to the conclusion that the only hope was for me to just 'go'. My dress was already rain soaked so if it became wee soaked as well, so be it. The man was lost in technicalities of sorting out my car, so while his attention was not on me, maybe I could just wee down my legs. It had been years since I had last had to resort to such a method of bladder relief. I remember well the warm sensation and the profound relief feeling back then as my water was set free. I also remember the shame of having anyone see what I had done. It was at a pop-concert and I was too desperate to join the long queue for the portaloos. My older sister was aware of my plight and gave me permission to 'go down my leg'. I had difficulty bringing myself to doing it; well, we are taught it's so wrong to wee one's knickers. I remember managing at last to start weeing, but although I hoped to dribble to ease the pressure, once the trickle started it quickly escalated into a forceful hissing gush, noticed by me and those around me. God, the shame of it. Now I was considering getting the relief I so desperately needed by doing the same again. It was the only option, given the circumstances but I had to avoid the hissing sound at all costs so I would somehow have to control my release and not let it take over. That was a scary prospect, remembering how hard I tried to hold back but totally failed, last time. This time I HAD to wee slowly.
I walked towards the back of the car as mentally I prepared myself for what I was about to attempt but was interrupted by the man, looking over the car at me. He was saying something about a burst pipe and wet electrics. Clearly he realized from my distracted look that the important information he was saying was going over my head. It wasn't but as you know, I had other bursting problems on my mind at that time. He beckoned me round to the front of the car to show me where the water had escaped from. I envied that water and felt sorry for my car as it had endured its equivalent of a bursting bladder. At least it was now relieved, whereas I...
"I might rig up a fix to get you going" He said, tapping the hose with an experienced finger.
"Just depends on the soaked electrics. If I can dry it out a bit then we may be in luck"
He looked me up and down and added "Looks like you could do with a bit of drying off as well". All I could say in reply was "Umm", although I could have said 'You have no idea how wet I will soon be'. I had this vision of him offering to rub me down with a paper towel or two. Oh, under different circumstances that might have been a great offer, but not here and now! I thought how It would take a jumbo roll of paper towels to cope with my impending flood!
As he went about fixing my car he congratulated me for putting out the warning triangle and having the wisdom not to sit in the car, like most people would on a night like this. I glanced down at the hem of my very wet and sorry-looking dress as I told him I was just at a wedding reception, to account for my highly impractical travel outfit, and mud-caked high heels. I went on to say how I only intended this trip to take about twenty minutes, not that he was interested. He was doing things on the engine again.
Could I now risk letting my tortured bladder shed a little of its burden? I couldn't! he was too close. I couldn't just stand next to a man and start weeing myself. The fact that I was resigned to weeing myself was in itself a hugely personal thing to attempt. My greatest fear was whether I could control the flow or would I start a torrent that would surely be noticed. Either way, I had to wee. I had to put some distance between this man and myself, but I couldn't just wander off into the dark. He would think it very odd. Then I had an idea. I offered to retrieve the warning triangle from back up the road. He deflated this plan by saying he would walk back for it shortly. Damn; but wait! If he intended to walk back for it, wouldn't that give me the same chance? Provided I could hang in there for a while longer. I thought again about turning torture to pleasure by looking not for the bursting ache but for the weaker but much more welcome tingle I could get from a full bladder. That gave me hope.
I wasn't paying close attention to the repairs this chap was making to my car so I was surprised when he declared it fixed, but only temporarily but good enough to drive home in. He turned the engine over and after a few tries, interspersed with more under bonnet attention, my lovely car started - then more water shot out and the engine stopped again.
He rubbed his chin with a very dirty hand before declaring there must be a further leak not visible in torchlight and his fallback plan would be to tow me home.
As he converted the back of his van to perform the proposed towing procedure, I judged I should take this opportunity to leak a little at first. Intending and doing can be very different things. Now I was ready to seek some relief, I was under pressure to perform promptly but my sphincter wasn't having any of this rush to wee. Since he wasn't watching me I dared to spread my legs a little and gently push. I jiggled my bottom (thank God it was dark) and was rewarded with a warm feeling between my legs but I could sense the imminent torrent and snapped my sphincter shut instinctively. I must have only weed an egg cup full before clamping off the flow. Now my bladder was screaming its protests at being denied its relief. I groaned as I leaned forward and applied some pressure between my legs to ride out the throbbing ache, but he saw me in that un-ladylike posture and must have guessed the reason.
"Are you OK?" He asked in a concerned tone.
I couldn't say I was fine but I was most definitely not going to tell him I was attempting to wee myself.
"Oh yes. Just need the little girls room." I played down my real need by adding "But I'm OK really" I don't think he believed me.
I went on "I'm not too far from home and with your help I should be fine". Did I put too much enforces on the word 'should'? I certainly didn't intend to but if I were to hear a lady say it like that, I would not be convinced.
"Well, we'll be on the road shortly. Just got to pick up your warning sign."
"Right - and thank you" was all I could add.
As he walked back up the road I knew this was the only remaining chance I had to empty my bladder. My dress was so wet that no amount of wee would make it worse, so again I spread my legs and took a long deep breath. This was it; trickle or flood, it had to happen now. The prospect of getting in his cab for the drive home with a bladder that would certainly let go as we were driving wasn't appealing, so I now HAD to wee!
The seconds ticked away while I tried to convince my bladder that this time it was for real and it had to take this one and only opportunity. I dribbled and stopped. Now I begged for a flood. I managed a small spurt then stopped again. That wonderful warm feeling between my legs should have preceded the flood but instead all I got was more powerful but unproductive urges. My frustration lead to tears as I struggled to do what I needed to do for so long. I dribbled a little more. All too soon the AA man's torch announced his imminent return. My moment had gone and I was still full. The drop I had shed was too little to make any difference. I cried with frustration.
As he approached I hoped it too dark for him to see I had been crying, as I wiped the remaining tears away with the back of my hand. If he did, he didn't comment.
As I put the warning sign in the boot I was suddenly aware of warm wee streaming down my legs. I groaned, this time with relief and delight. It was so good! I was weeing hard and long. The relief was so profound that I staggered back a step or two and nearly fell. He was next to me. He grabbed my arm and looked down as I did to see a river of wee mixing with the rain in the gutter. I could hear myself weeing but it didn't matter now. I didn't try to stem the flow. He waited, steadying me as I wobbled in my wee-soaked shoes until the flow finally stopped.
"Doesn't that feel better" was his surprise comment.
"Oh God Y-E-S" was my heartfelt reply.
Here I was, being steadied by a complete stranger who had just helped this maiden in distress in her most desperate hour.
With plastic carrier bags on the passenger seat we were soon underway. My bladder was aching from holding on for so long but the tingle remained to invite me to enjoy the sensations of wetness and warmth that could so easily lead to an orgasm
I bet he will remember that night for a long time but I doubt he will ever guess how I fantasized about having hot passionate sex with him right there in the van.
Will I ever tell Ann what happened? Certainly, but she will never know why I passed up her offer to use her loo, or the thrill of weeing down my leg while being supported by a perfect stranger. Then again, perhaps I should?
After overhearing a conversation between two ladies at a cafe recently, telling how one of them had broken down on a back road at night and how she had been bursting for a wee while waiting for the breakdown call out to arrive, My imagination presented me with a thrilling story. All I had to do was write it down. So here's (with a goodly measure of authors prerogative) how I imagined she coped with the adventure.
The Story
I know, I know! I should have used Ann's toilet but I much prefer to use my own loo; especially when I'm wearing any of my posh outfits. Besides, I'll admit to getting a buzz from managing a full bladder at times. Tonight be one of those times, as I sensed it telling me it was comfortably-full but nothing like urgent, so that partly accounted for why I skipped using Ann's loo. If my drive home had gone to plan, I would have been home (and dry) in twenty minutes; half an hour, tops, but maybe the Gods conspired against me that night, as my trip took hours, left me wet through and exhausted!
The evening had been a delight. I was enjoying Tom and Sarah's wedding reception, as was Ann (my best friend from my school days). The free Champaign was rather too eagerly enjoyed by Ann and by me, to a lesser degree. The plan was for me to drive Ann home later so I was careful not to overdue the 'bubbly'. Ann was very merry by the time we had agreed to leave. I think I was a little giggly but didn't feel driving would be a problem, so it was around eleven when we said our farewells. The fifty minute drive to Ann's went smoothly enough. As we arrived she quickly hobbled to the loo, saying how she was about to burst. My own bladder was saying to me 'Me too!' but as I said earlier, I judged it safe to wait another half an hour or so, so I could relish the tingle of a full bladder longer and enjoy the use of my own loo later.
I was keen to be on my way but had of course to wait for her to return from the loo. I visualized the sensation she would be enjoying as her bladder was finally allowed to empty. My bladder, on the other hand, would have to be content with its contents for a while yet. Even though we have been best friends for many years, I wouldn't ever tell her that I get tuned-on by a bursting bladder. That's my little secret!
It took me a while before I could get away since Ann was intent on talking about the wedding. As I finally made my exit, Ann asked me if I might need the loo, and I nearly said yes. I should have said 'Oh yes' and unburdened my bladder there and then but with only twenty minute drive ahead of me, and my unwillingness to fight my party dress and body shaper in order wee - and the pleasurable prospect of a tingling bladder to enjoy, I mumbled something about being fine, and with that, said goodnight to Ann.
Ann lives on an estate who's roads are infested with speed bumps. One might find them objectionable at any time but if you need a wee; well, then you really feel them! The drive soon takes me through a short wooded section before opening out to a stretch beside fields. As I rounded a bent just a thousand yards or so into the wooded section, the car suddenly made a bang-bang-bang sound and I lost power, also there appeared clouds of steam from the engine. Clearly something had blown-up. Several jets of steaming water hit the windscreen and in that instant I thought that the car's bladder must have burst! Do cars have bladders? Whatever it was that had burst, my car certainly wasn't going to take me home now. The slight incline of the road let me roll forward a little way before finally stopping. I sat there behind the wheel stunned for a moment or two until I realized I had to quickly assess the awful mess I was now in. A lone female, stranded on a secluded road at night - and very much in need of a loo! My second concern (the first being my bladder) was how close the car was to the bend. Anyone following at speed would probably crash into me. I remember having a warning triangle in the boot, and I simply had to walk back round the bend to warn drivers of the hazard ahead. As I stood up, my bladder throbbed and I had to quickly regain control by crossing my legs and clenching my muscles hard. Perhaps the shock of what had just happened had turned by comfortably full bladder into an accident about to happen. Soon a measure of control returned and I was able to continue with my plan. Neither my dress or my shoes were designed for ease of walking and even with the aid of a torch, I stumbled and almost fell on the rough road several times. With the triangle placed where I judged it would work best I returned to my sad looking car. Some steam was still issuing from the front grill. Next, I needed to call out the breakdown service. I thought that getting back in the car might be unsafe but it had started raining and standing was not bladder-friendly, so reluctantly I got in the passenger's side and fished-out my phone. I had only recently taken out roadside assist with the AA, so fortunately remembered putting the details in the glove compartment. My heart was pounding as I turned on my phone. It skipped a beat when I saw there wasn't a signal. Now I really was in a fix! Don't panic, I firmly told myself. Try from outside the car, I thought. I had no choice really. Getting out in the rain was dreadful. I had a brolly in the boot which I retrieved quickly but oh - my poor bladder! I had again to fight the urge to wee with all my strength. This was a fine situation to be in and no mistake. Weeing was my biggest problem, but there was no way I was going to perform a squat-wee; not in this dress, not in the rain, not in the dark. It looked like I was going to get very wet!
I tried the phone again and after a few moments anxiety, I got a weak signal. Thank God, I said out loud. At least the second most urgent problem was solvable. The first problem remained. I explained my plight - lone female on country road with steaming and broken car. I wanted to add 'and bursting for a loo' but didn't. I don't think roadside assist includes emergency portable toilets. The operator assured me it would be a priority call out but might still be up to an hour before they could get to me. An hour!!! Oh God. My primary problem wouldn't permit a delay of an hour, and that's only to getting a man to me. Assuming the car wasn't going to be fixed by the roadside, it would probably mean a tow to a local garage but at this late an hour, God knows how long that would take.
Just then a car came round the bent. It slowed as it passed then continued on its way. I was furious he or she hadn't stopped to render assistance but then I thought what if it had been a sex maniac at the wheel. I was suddenly glad he hadn't stopped. My concern as to my vulnerability led me to believing I would be safer out of view, so no one would see me and be tempted to attack me. I stood back in the bushes. I could still see my car but I didn't believe motorists would see me. My high-heels sank in the mud. my brolly was keeping the rain off my head and shoulders but the rest of my dress was getting quite wet. I looked at my watch in the dim glow of my torch and what seemed like an age was less than ten minutes from the time I had called for help. My bladder was now past the urgent stage and was approaching bursting but I concentrated on the ache and how I could at times turn the ache into an arousing sensation, when I was in the mood. The situation wasn't conducive to pleasure but if it would hold my bladder in check for a while longer, it was worth trying. I pressed a hand over my bladder gently, as I did when in the mood and was rewarded with the delightful tingle that precedes arousal. This could work! I gently rubbed the front of my skirt which helped me think of my bladder as a thing of joy and not a threat. It was working. I realized I could easily find myself strongly aroused by my actions, but then...
Headlights appeared as the vehicle clearly was stopping behind my car. My state of pre-arousal evaporated in an instant as I watched before showing myself. Thankfully it was an AA van. I stepped out, back onto the road. My sudden appearance from the bushes startled the man as he looked up from shining his torch through the driver's side window. "Hi" I said, in as calm a voice as I could manage. He looked up at me and shone his torch in my eyes. "Hello madam" He said in a deep reassuring voice. I must have looked a bedraggled mess because on moving I could feel my soaked skirt and much of my bodice clinging and dragging on me. Thankfully it wasn't a cold night.
"Let's see what's the problem" He said while patting the top of my car with a gloved hand. I might have said that my biggest problem was where and how to take a wee but of course I didn't. Instead I told him how steam had spurted out just before the engine cut out. He lifted the bonnet and cast his attention to the problem in hand. I cast my attention to my problem in hand. I think I had already come to the conclusion that the only hope was for me to just 'go'. My dress was already rain soaked so if it became wee soaked as well, so be it. The man was lost in technicalities of sorting out my car, so while his attention was not on me, maybe I could just wee down my legs. It had been years since I had last had to resort to such a method of bladder relief. I remember well the warm sensation and the profound relief feeling back then as my water was set free. I also remember the shame of having anyone see what I had done. It was at a pop-concert and I was too desperate to join the long queue for the portaloos. My older sister was aware of my plight and gave me permission to 'go down my leg'. I had difficulty bringing myself to doing it; well, we are taught it's so wrong to wee one's knickers. I remember managing at last to start weeing, but although I hoped to dribble to ease the pressure, once the trickle started it quickly escalated into a forceful hissing gush, noticed by me and those around me. God, the shame of it. Now I was considering getting the relief I so desperately needed by doing the same again. It was the only option, given the circumstances but I had to avoid the hissing sound at all costs so I would somehow have to control my release and not let it take over. That was a scary prospect, remembering how hard I tried to hold back but totally failed, last time. This time I HAD to wee slowly.
I walked towards the back of the car as mentally I prepared myself for what I was about to attempt but was interrupted by the man, looking over the car at me. He was saying something about a burst pipe and wet electrics. Clearly he realized from my distracted look that the important information he was saying was going over my head. It wasn't but as you know, I had other bursting problems on my mind at that time. He beckoned me round to the front of the car to show me where the water had escaped from. I envied that water and felt sorry for my car as it had endured its equivalent of a bursting bladder. At least it was now relieved, whereas I...
"I might rig up a fix to get you going" He said, tapping the hose with an experienced finger.
"Just depends on the soaked electrics. If I can dry it out a bit then we may be in luck"
He looked me up and down and added "Looks like you could do with a bit of drying off as well". All I could say in reply was "Umm", although I could have said 'You have no idea how wet I will soon be'. I had this vision of him offering to rub me down with a paper towel or two. Oh, under different circumstances that might have been a great offer, but not here and now! I thought how It would take a jumbo roll of paper towels to cope with my impending flood!
As he went about fixing my car he congratulated me for putting out the warning triangle and having the wisdom not to sit in the car, like most people would on a night like this. I glanced down at the hem of my very wet and sorry-looking dress as I told him I was just at a wedding reception, to account for my highly impractical travel outfit, and mud-caked high heels. I went on to say how I only intended this trip to take about twenty minutes, not that he was interested. He was doing things on the engine again.
Could I now risk letting my tortured bladder shed a little of its burden? I couldn't! he was too close. I couldn't just stand next to a man and start weeing myself. The fact that I was resigned to weeing myself was in itself a hugely personal thing to attempt. My greatest fear was whether I could control the flow or would I start a torrent that would surely be noticed. Either way, I had to wee. I had to put some distance between this man and myself, but I couldn't just wander off into the dark. He would think it very odd. Then I had an idea. I offered to retrieve the warning triangle from back up the road. He deflated this plan by saying he would walk back for it shortly. Damn; but wait! If he intended to walk back for it, wouldn't that give me the same chance? Provided I could hang in there for a while longer. I thought again about turning torture to pleasure by looking not for the bursting ache but for the weaker but much more welcome tingle I could get from a full bladder. That gave me hope.
I wasn't paying close attention to the repairs this chap was making to my car so I was surprised when he declared it fixed, but only temporarily but good enough to drive home in. He turned the engine over and after a few tries, interspersed with more under bonnet attention, my lovely car started - then more water shot out and the engine stopped again.
He rubbed his chin with a very dirty hand before declaring there must be a further leak not visible in torchlight and his fallback plan would be to tow me home.
As he converted the back of his van to perform the proposed towing procedure, I judged I should take this opportunity to leak a little at first. Intending and doing can be very different things. Now I was ready to seek some relief, I was under pressure to perform promptly but my sphincter wasn't having any of this rush to wee. Since he wasn't watching me I dared to spread my legs a little and gently push. I jiggled my bottom (thank God it was dark) and was rewarded with a warm feeling between my legs but I could sense the imminent torrent and snapped my sphincter shut instinctively. I must have only weed an egg cup full before clamping off the flow. Now my bladder was screaming its protests at being denied its relief. I groaned as I leaned forward and applied some pressure between my legs to ride out the throbbing ache, but he saw me in that un-ladylike posture and must have guessed the reason.
"Are you OK?" He asked in a concerned tone.
I couldn't say I was fine but I was most definitely not going to tell him I was attempting to wee myself.
"Oh yes. Just need the little girls room." I played down my real need by adding "But I'm OK really" I don't think he believed me.
I went on "I'm not too far from home and with your help I should be fine". Did I put too much enforces on the word 'should'? I certainly didn't intend to but if I were to hear a lady say it like that, I would not be convinced.
"Well, we'll be on the road shortly. Just got to pick up your warning sign."
"Right - and thank you" was all I could add.
As he walked back up the road I knew this was the only remaining chance I had to empty my bladder. My dress was so wet that no amount of wee would make it worse, so again I spread my legs and took a long deep breath. This was it; trickle or flood, it had to happen now. The prospect of getting in his cab for the drive home with a bladder that would certainly let go as we were driving wasn't appealing, so I now HAD to wee!
The seconds ticked away while I tried to convince my bladder that this time it was for real and it had to take this one and only opportunity. I dribbled and stopped. Now I begged for a flood. I managed a small spurt then stopped again. That wonderful warm feeling between my legs should have preceded the flood but instead all I got was more powerful but unproductive urges. My frustration lead to tears as I struggled to do what I needed to do for so long. I dribbled a little more. All too soon the AA man's torch announced his imminent return. My moment had gone and I was still full. The drop I had shed was too little to make any difference. I cried with frustration.
As he approached I hoped it too dark for him to see I had been crying, as I wiped the remaining tears away with the back of my hand. If he did, he didn't comment.
As I put the warning sign in the boot I was suddenly aware of warm wee streaming down my legs. I groaned, this time with relief and delight. It was so good! I was weeing hard and long. The relief was so profound that I staggered back a step or two and nearly fell. He was next to me. He grabbed my arm and looked down as I did to see a river of wee mixing with the rain in the gutter. I could hear myself weeing but it didn't matter now. I didn't try to stem the flow. He waited, steadying me as I wobbled in my wee-soaked shoes until the flow finally stopped.
"Doesn't that feel better" was his surprise comment.
"Oh God Y-E-S" was my heartfelt reply.
Here I was, being steadied by a complete stranger who had just helped this maiden in distress in her most desperate hour.
With plastic carrier bags on the passenger seat we were soon underway. My bladder was aching from holding on for so long but the tingle remained to invite me to enjoy the sensations of wetness and warmth that could so easily lead to an orgasm
I bet he will remember that night for a long time but I doubt he will ever guess how I fantasized about having hot passionate sex with him right there in the van.
Will I ever tell Ann what happened? Certainly, but she will never know why I passed up her offer to use her loo, or the thrill of weeing down my leg while being supported by a perfect stranger. Then again, perhaps I should?