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In August 1998, I was traveling home from a concert in London which was about a
3 hour journey to where I was living at the time. I was wearing black nylon
shorts, a red top and sandals, I had a thin jacket with me too.
I'd hung around the concert a little longer than I should've done and really had to hurry to get the train, I knew I needed to go to the toilet but I knew there was one at the station so I didn't worry - even when my bladder started sending the 'getting urgent' signals. I got to the station just as the train was about to leave so there was no time to use the station's toilet, but again I wasn't worried, as more often than not there are toilets on the trains.
About 10-15 minutes into the journey I began to feel quite desperate and needed
to hold myself, this was easy to do unseen because I was squashed due to the
rush hour crowd, I was also getting quite concerned, I knew I really needed to
go very badly but didn't know which way to attempt to fight my way through the
crowd, so for the next 20 minutes I stood with my legs crossed and my hand
jammed between my legs feeling my bladder rapidly filling up. I was getting more
and more worried, when the train stopped at the next station the majority of the
people got off, but there were still no seats available though, like my bladder,
it was still pretty full. On one hand I was very glad because now I could get
past people to get to the toilet, but it also meant I could no longer stand
cross legged holding myself without it been plainly obvious to people I was
bursting for a pee.
I was close to tears as a strong wave of desperation hit me unexpectedly, causing me to instinctively return my hand between my legs and I heard myself whisper a groan, 'ohhh'!
I knew people were looking, but I couldn't help that, the man standing next to me was pretty good looking, dark hair, mid 40s he looked sympathetically at me and whispered, 'It's ok honey, I need to go pretty badly too. I know, let's find the toilet together, come on.' I gratefully followed him and we followed which way the sign indicated where the toilets were. I was really, really bursting now and I knew I couldn't hold on much longer, I had to keep stopping because the waves of desperation were hitting me more and more frequently and much stronger than I thought was possible. It was difficult to push past people while at the same time trying to keep control of my bladder. I was very desperate and anyone who saw me must've known, I couldn't try to hide it any longer. When we found the toilet we found a sign on it that read: 'out of order due to vandalism' . . . with that I started to cry because I knew I'd never be able to hang on until the train was due to stop again. My new companion, (who's name was Peter) tried the door and found it was locked, I noticed he gave his cock a squeeze and the look on his face told me I wasn't alone in this predicament. He whispered, 'It's OK, we are the same, I'm bursting too!'
'Yes,' I replied, 'but I can't hold on any longer, I'm almost wetting myself.' I was sobbing, I felt daft. Then another wave hit me causing me to almost completely bend over at the waist and I grabbed my crotch frantically with both hands, 'Oohh please do something! Please! I'm nearly doing it!! Ooohhh PLEASE do something!!' I sobbed.
I didn't care about the strange looks we were getting. 'Lets walk further down,' he suggested, 'maybe we can find a seat, if you sit down it will be better for you.'
Just then the ticket inspector came by and Peter asked him, 'Is there another toilet on board? It's a bit of an emergency for both of us.' He looked at me standing cross legged with both hands firmly holding my crotch and the desperate pained expression on my face. 'Errr, no I'm sorry, there isn't, I'm very sorry.' he muttered, unable to take his eyes of me as I squirmed and hopped about. I'd had enough, I pleaded with him, 'Well, can you at least unlock this door then? At least then I can go on the floor behind a closed door because I'm about to do it anyway, I'll do it right here, I just can't hold on anymore!!'
I tearfully begged just as another wave hit me and an uncontrollable spurt soaked through my hand and tell-tale drips ran down my legs, 'Oh no!! Oooh no!! Oh please do something!!'
'No, I'm sorry, we don't have a key on board, I'm really sorry.' he said, taking one last look at me before walking away.
'Come on sweetie, lets get that seat.' Peter said, full of concern.
We walked (or rather I hobbled) into the next compartment where we found a couple of seats, but sitting down didn't ease my situation, in fact it was the last straw for my bursting bladder and the second I sat down I couldn't control it anymore and I started to uncontrollably pee! It poured out of me like a river! I couldn't control it, my shorts were absolutely soaked and my bottom was warm. A lot of it was soaked up by the seat, but a lot of it also dripped onto the floor and made a huge puddle at my feet.
For a few seconds I couldn't move, the relief was soooooo heavenly. Peter, who had been watching me, had his face screwed up in agony. He took his jacket off and lay it over his lap, I knew what he was doing as I watched the puddle I'd made suddenly double in size, the relief on his face matched mine.
A few minutes later the ticket inspector came back and he couldn't but help notice the massive puddle on the floor.
'Sorry.' I muttered.
'Don't worry, it happens from time to time,' he sympathetically replied. When we got to our station Peter and I both went our separate ways, I often wonder if he ever remembers it, I know I'll never forget it......
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