I Love the Feeling of a Full Bladder
Her footsteps pounded the pavement along the embankment. The steady, consistent heart beat she had felt moments ago now drummed heavily in her ears, chest heaving, her face now more than flushed, glistened with the kind of sweat only dedicated runners prepared to brave the snow and ice could relate to. But it wasn’t these attributes that weighed heaviest on her mind, but the dull throbbing sensation occurring in her lower abdomen. Those initial yet unmistakable signs of a rapidly filling bladder.
She had felt the familiar urge earlier, but ever confident in her holding abilities chose to ignore it. But now her bladder bounced and tightened every step she took. Every dip and crack of uneven surface jolted her need unexpectantly and she winced at the sharp twinge of impact.
“****,” she muttered, coming to a grinding halt. She couldn’t wet herself here, not in tight running pants. Despite the rural area, the embankment was a popular destination for like minded fitness fanatics and dog walkers. Any moment now, old Mrs Hubbard would walk along with her blind, elderly mongrel and catch her bent over at the waist, leg twisted to one side, appearing to be curtseying to no one in particular, but secretly hiding an overwhelming desire to mercifully **** herself.
She picked herself up into a slow jog again. So much for six minute miles. Concentrate, she told herself. Breathe. The faster you run, the sooner you can relieve yourself. With that mantra she increased her pace, groaning at the prospect of the most challenging part of the run; dead man’s hill. A steep and rather imposing mound aptly named by students of the local high school during the compulsory torture of PE, the hill was usually her most favourite part of the workout, the change in incline and intensity a welcome challenge.
But today that change brought a different kind of intensity. A shooting, overwhelming force that threatened to overcome her most desired need.
“ARGH”, she cried out, the steepness of the hill had caused a bigger jolt on her bladder than she expected and her once hasty run now resorted to a slow hobble. Breathing hard, she pressed a finger firmly on her burning urethra and crouched down in despair.
“Are you ok there?” a man’s voice suddenly behind her startled her and she jumped up, embarrassed at being caught in such a vulnerable state.
“Urrr, erm, yes! I errr hurt my knee!” She lied; embarrassed to be caught out in front of someone she had never met before. She hoped he hadn’t seen what she had really been doing.
“Well let me help you then.” He said, smiling. “My car is not too far away, I can give you a lift home, get you off that knee.”
He had seen her earlier, bent over at the waist, writhing and wriggling trying to contain all that liquid inside her. He knew all the signs, had even been there himself once, completely soaked himself during a long run. But his real weakness was for a bursting damsel in distress, and she fit the bill perfectly. He only hoped she hadn’t noticed his growing erection.
“I don’t know if I can walk”, she panted.
This wasn’t exactly a lie. He wasn’t to know it wasn’t her knee disabling her walking abilities. She wasn’t even sure she could stand up straight for long. The burning pressure on her **** made it virtually impossible to stand still and her legs shook involuntarily.
He couldn’t believe his luck, or contain his excitement. It was all he could do to not stare at her clearly bursting crotch which he half expected to any moment begin to turn a darker shade, letting her lycra pants shine in the Autumn sunshine.
“Come on then, let’s get you home,” he said, letting her lean across his arm for support.
She leaned against him reluctantly. She longed for him to leave her, to scramble behind a nearby bush, tug her increasingly tight running pants down and let go a torrent of pee. Oh god, even the thought of relief threatened to push her over the edge. A spasm caught her off guard and she crouched down to stop herself losing it, unconsciously pressing her hand between her thighs.
“Are you ok?” he asked her
Unable to hide her plight anymore she confessed.
“No, I have to pee so bad. I’m bursting. I don’t think I can hold on much longer”.
No ****, he thought, secretly grinning to himself.
“Do you want to squat somewhere? I’ll look out for you.”
“No, no. I can hold it. How far to your car?”
“Only a few minutes”, he lied.
She had always been shy about squatting. Once walking back from the pub she had gotten so desperate, refusing to use the disgusting pub loos, she’d unbuttoned her jeans but could no longer withstand the pressure and eventually succumbed to squatting down an alleyway. No sooner had she started peeing when some drunk and disorderly teenagers stumbled down the same alleyway and startled her half to death. By the time she got home she was drenched to her knees in pee. Now no matter how desperate she gets now she always makes herself hold on. She didn’t know how she did it sometimes. Like right now.
Now with her secret out the way she hobbled faster beside him, hand now permanently squeezing her urethra. She moaned loudly as each step reverberated on her bladder. Despite being incredibly aroused, her obvious displays of desperation embarrassed him. But he wasn’t about to say anything.
“How much further?” she asked. The frustration in her voice surprised him, now visibly bouncing on the spot, crossing and re-crossing her legs, hand still firmly pressing.
“It’s just there, look,” he told her, pointing to a car parked alongside the bridge.
“Oh thank god,” she sighed, now making a valiant effort to speed up. Sitting would relieve some of the pressure. She clung to this thought as she raced to his vehicle.
She reached the car first, dancing wildly at the passenger side door. Why was he walking so slowly?
He watched her intently. God, I’m in heaven he thought. An urge seemed to overcome her as she began frantically yanking at her pants.
“I can’t hold it. I’ll pee in your car if I don’t squat here.”
“Ok then, he said. Not worried. She didn’t seem like the type to squat. Even though he knew she was absolutely dying to. 100% at her limit and it drove him wild.
“Erm, you might want to get in...there’s a car behind,” he told her opening her door for her.
She scrambled at her workout pants, embarrassed at the state the people in the car behind must have seen her in. Those must be agonisingly tight by now, he thought, stealing a glance at her swollen bladder. Distended right to the naval. Delicious.
She sat beside him now. Legs scissoring manically. Pants rolled down to her hip to take some of the pressure off. Her hand still squeezing hard. Beads of sweat sprinkled her forehead; those were most certainly not from running anymore.
“I’m so sorry about this, “she panted. She sounded like she was in labour.
“It’s ok,” he said sympathetically. “We’ve all been there. And besides I rather like it.”
“What did you...” she didn’t even get to finish her sentence before he rolled her seat down, flinging her backwards with it. She yelped, and he heard the hiss of pee before he saw it glisten and shine on her lycra clad crotch.
“What are you doing,” she shouted, incensed, and disbelieving.
But he was busy pushing her seat back to give himself room to manoeuvre. Now, he sat in front of her, gently removing her pants, he could see the rock hard outline of her bulging bladder emerging from her pink cotton panties. He almost lost it right then and there. She was squirming, moving her body spasmodically in rhythm and gasping loudly when another spasm hit.
“What are you doing?” she began again.
“Shh. Just trust me,” he said as he slipped her briefs off to reveal her quivering vulva.
She gasped deeply as he did this and let out an involuntary leak, leaving droplets of hot pee on her inner thigh.
He began to slowly run his tongue over her trembling thigh. He didn’t waste time, utilising his mouth, tongue and hands in an effort to distract her. It was working; successful, but then he usually was. He’d spent years perfecting his technique, after all.
He went down on her with a flourish, licking hard and fast, savouring her bulge with every moment. Her fullness had him hard and throbbing. Her release slammed through her, leaving her shaking. He gently kissed her aching abdomen, then held her gaze as he slid inside of her.
"Stop”, she breathed but her body language said differently.
"Oh, God!" He quivered there, prolonging the moment – then he began to move, undone by her fullness. Her tightness engulfed him, burned him, caressed him to the point of insanity. Soon he was plunging madly, lost in her, and completely unaware of his surroundings.
She screamed, her nails dug into his back as she arched one last time before collapsing under him, shuddering convulsively.
His groans tore out from deep inside his chest as his release surged through him, leaving him gasping and gathering her close. Trembling and shaking he pulled her close into a seated position, caressing her poor distended bladder. The look on her face was priceless as she sat, legs spread, rocking against his relieved member. She shifted uncomfortably as he kissed her, feeling her hot pee spray forcefully against his thighs this time.
“Here, let me help you,” he whispered, pulling out the largest measuring jug she had ever seen out from behind the back seat.
That sounds familiar, she thought.
She had felt the familiar urge earlier, but ever confident in her holding abilities chose to ignore it. But now her bladder bounced and tightened every step she took. Every dip and crack of uneven surface jolted her need unexpectantly and she winced at the sharp twinge of impact.
“****,” she muttered, coming to a grinding halt. She couldn’t wet herself here, not in tight running pants. Despite the rural area, the embankment was a popular destination for like minded fitness fanatics and dog walkers. Any moment now, old Mrs Hubbard would walk along with her blind, elderly mongrel and catch her bent over at the waist, leg twisted to one side, appearing to be curtseying to no one in particular, but secretly hiding an overwhelming desire to mercifully **** herself.
She picked herself up into a slow jog again. So much for six minute miles. Concentrate, she told herself. Breathe. The faster you run, the sooner you can relieve yourself. With that mantra she increased her pace, groaning at the prospect of the most challenging part of the run; dead man’s hill. A steep and rather imposing mound aptly named by students of the local high school during the compulsory torture of PE, the hill was usually her most favourite part of the workout, the change in incline and intensity a welcome challenge.
But today that change brought a different kind of intensity. A shooting, overwhelming force that threatened to overcome her most desired need.
“ARGH”, she cried out, the steepness of the hill had caused a bigger jolt on her bladder than she expected and her once hasty run now resorted to a slow hobble. Breathing hard, she pressed a finger firmly on her burning urethra and crouched down in despair.
“Are you ok there?” a man’s voice suddenly behind her startled her and she jumped up, embarrassed at being caught in such a vulnerable state.
“Urrr, erm, yes! I errr hurt my knee!” She lied; embarrassed to be caught out in front of someone she had never met before. She hoped he hadn’t seen what she had really been doing.
“Well let me help you then.” He said, smiling. “My car is not too far away, I can give you a lift home, get you off that knee.”
He had seen her earlier, bent over at the waist, writhing and wriggling trying to contain all that liquid inside her. He knew all the signs, had even been there himself once, completely soaked himself during a long run. But his real weakness was for a bursting damsel in distress, and she fit the bill perfectly. He only hoped she hadn’t noticed his growing erection.
“I don’t know if I can walk”, she panted.
This wasn’t exactly a lie. He wasn’t to know it wasn’t her knee disabling her walking abilities. She wasn’t even sure she could stand up straight for long. The burning pressure on her **** made it virtually impossible to stand still and her legs shook involuntarily.
He couldn’t believe his luck, or contain his excitement. It was all he could do to not stare at her clearly bursting crotch which he half expected to any moment begin to turn a darker shade, letting her lycra pants shine in the Autumn sunshine.
“Come on then, let’s get you home,” he said, letting her lean across his arm for support.
She leaned against him reluctantly. She longed for him to leave her, to scramble behind a nearby bush, tug her increasingly tight running pants down and let go a torrent of pee. Oh god, even the thought of relief threatened to push her over the edge. A spasm caught her off guard and she crouched down to stop herself losing it, unconsciously pressing her hand between her thighs.
“Are you ok?” he asked her
Unable to hide her plight anymore she confessed.
“No, I have to pee so bad. I’m bursting. I don’t think I can hold on much longer”.
No ****, he thought, secretly grinning to himself.
“Do you want to squat somewhere? I’ll look out for you.”
“No, no. I can hold it. How far to your car?”
“Only a few minutes”, he lied.
She had always been shy about squatting. Once walking back from the pub she had gotten so desperate, refusing to use the disgusting pub loos, she’d unbuttoned her jeans but could no longer withstand the pressure and eventually succumbed to squatting down an alleyway. No sooner had she started peeing when some drunk and disorderly teenagers stumbled down the same alleyway and startled her half to death. By the time she got home she was drenched to her knees in pee. Now no matter how desperate she gets now she always makes herself hold on. She didn’t know how she did it sometimes. Like right now.
Now with her secret out the way she hobbled faster beside him, hand now permanently squeezing her urethra. She moaned loudly as each step reverberated on her bladder. Despite being incredibly aroused, her obvious displays of desperation embarrassed him. But he wasn’t about to say anything.
“How much further?” she asked. The frustration in her voice surprised him, now visibly bouncing on the spot, crossing and re-crossing her legs, hand still firmly pressing.
“It’s just there, look,” he told her, pointing to a car parked alongside the bridge.
“Oh thank god,” she sighed, now making a valiant effort to speed up. Sitting would relieve some of the pressure. She clung to this thought as she raced to his vehicle.
She reached the car first, dancing wildly at the passenger side door. Why was he walking so slowly?
He watched her intently. God, I’m in heaven he thought. An urge seemed to overcome her as she began frantically yanking at her pants.
“I can’t hold it. I’ll pee in your car if I don’t squat here.”
“Ok then, he said. Not worried. She didn’t seem like the type to squat. Even though he knew she was absolutely dying to. 100% at her limit and it drove him wild.
“Erm, you might want to get in...there’s a car behind,” he told her opening her door for her.
She scrambled at her workout pants, embarrassed at the state the people in the car behind must have seen her in. Those must be agonisingly tight by now, he thought, stealing a glance at her swollen bladder. Distended right to the naval. Delicious.
She sat beside him now. Legs scissoring manically. Pants rolled down to her hip to take some of the pressure off. Her hand still squeezing hard. Beads of sweat sprinkled her forehead; those were most certainly not from running anymore.
“I’m so sorry about this, “she panted. She sounded like she was in labour.
“It’s ok,” he said sympathetically. “We’ve all been there. And besides I rather like it.”
“What did you...” she didn’t even get to finish her sentence before he rolled her seat down, flinging her backwards with it. She yelped, and he heard the hiss of pee before he saw it glisten and shine on her lycra clad crotch.
“What are you doing,” she shouted, incensed, and disbelieving.
But he was busy pushing her seat back to give himself room to manoeuvre. Now, he sat in front of her, gently removing her pants, he could see the rock hard outline of her bulging bladder emerging from her pink cotton panties. He almost lost it right then and there. She was squirming, moving her body spasmodically in rhythm and gasping loudly when another spasm hit.
“What are you doing?” she began again.
“Shh. Just trust me,” he said as he slipped her briefs off to reveal her quivering vulva.
She gasped deeply as he did this and let out an involuntary leak, leaving droplets of hot pee on her inner thigh.
He began to slowly run his tongue over her trembling thigh. He didn’t waste time, utilising his mouth, tongue and hands in an effort to distract her. It was working; successful, but then he usually was. He’d spent years perfecting his technique, after all.
He went down on her with a flourish, licking hard and fast, savouring her bulge with every moment. Her fullness had him hard and throbbing. Her release slammed through her, leaving her shaking. He gently kissed her aching abdomen, then held her gaze as he slid inside of her.
"Stop”, she breathed but her body language said differently.
"Oh, God!" He quivered there, prolonging the moment – then he began to move, undone by her fullness. Her tightness engulfed him, burned him, caressed him to the point of insanity. Soon he was plunging madly, lost in her, and completely unaware of his surroundings.
She screamed, her nails dug into his back as she arched one last time before collapsing under him, shuddering convulsively.
His groans tore out from deep inside his chest as his release surged through him, leaving him gasping and gathering her close. Trembling and shaking he pulled her close into a seated position, caressing her poor distended bladder. The look on her face was priceless as she sat, legs spread, rocking against his relieved member. She shifted uncomfortably as he kissed her, feeling her hot pee spray forcefully against his thighs this time.
“Here, let me help you,” he whispered, pulling out the largest measuring jug she had ever seen out from behind the back seat.
That sounds familiar, she thought.
By:
mel071
Age:
26-30
,
Female
