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Pissing in patyhose and business skirt - wetting herself desperate to pee

Door to door selling with a bursting female bladder

Written by Debra
Added on Thu, 02-Dec-2010
You can email me your desperation-wetting stories and we might do a clip based on your story.
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 Door to door selling with a bursting female bladder

 

Some years ago I was involved in doing some work that involved going around from door to door knocking on stranger‘s doors and for want of a better way of putting it, selling magazines and books and trying to hold a conversation with the householders wherever possible. It was on a December morning, I was out working with about 8 or 9 other people, I was wearing a green knee length skirt, tights, a white jumper and a fairly long coat.
It wasn‘t very long before I felt the need to go, but it wasn‘t that bad so I wasn‘t too worried. 


After about half an hour we had finished the assigned territory and most of the group decided they‘d had enough and wanted to quit, but I needed to make my hours up and wanted to carry on working, as did David, the guy in charge of our group, David was a very UN-fancyable guy about 25 years older than me, but he was a kind hearted, mild tempered guy who was very good at the job and I was hoping to learn from him. So I found myself saying that I‘d stay and work with him for a while, he seemed pleased about that and said we‘d need to drive to another part of town about 10 minutes drive away that needed working, it was okay by me. 


In his car he had a flask of tea which we shared before driving to the other side of town, I hadn‘t realised how much I actually had to go until I sat in his car, I could feel the increasing urge in my bladder and I hoped it would go away.
We got out of the car which made the feeling worse and the cold weather wasn‘t doing much to help either. David wasn‘t the kind of guy I felt I could confide in, he‘s a very "upright and proper" sort of guy and the idea of needing a pee while working wouldn‘t have gone down too well.
After about 20 minutes of going from door to door and doing our job, I could not ignore my fast growing need, I was unfamiliar with the area which was all residential and a quick glance around, I could see nowhere that I could slip away discreetly for a very badly needed pee.


Casually I asked how much longer he wanted us to work, my heart sank as he replied that he expected it to take about 2 hours because there was another area that needed working! He obviously noticed my dismay because he said that if I was cold we could have another cup of tea in his car as he had another flask. I said that I was OK - (I lied), but after another half an hour I was VERY desperate for the toilet and it was getting worse by the second, I was no longer able to concentrate on what the householders were saying and was hardly able to answer even their simplest of questions, or find the appropriate pages in the books. I could almost feel David‘s disapproval, but by now it was difficult to walk properly and almost impossible to stand still and to look composed on people‘s doorsteps. 


The desperation was coming in almost uncontrollable waves now and I‘d have given anything not to have been in that situation, I was almost in tears! 
My brain kept rehearsing the words in my head to say something to David that how very desperate for the loo I was, how I wasn‘t sure I could hold on much longer, how I was having to fight real hard against wetting myself . . . but I couldn‘t . . . I just couldn‘t bring myself to admit my need, I was too embarrassed. 


BUT, I did suggest I worked on the opposite side of the road from him (with the idea in mind to slip away somewhere unseen), but he said I wasn‘t qualified to work on my own yet, again he sensed my anxiety and asked if I was ok and my mind screamed out, ‘NO! I‘m NOT OK!! I‘m so desperate for the loo I‘m on the verge of wetting myself!! I cant hold it!!‘ But all that came out of my mouth was, ‘yes, I‘m ok, I‘m just cold now‘. David said that we‘d just finish this street then and call it a day and I said OK, agreeing with him, hoping we wouldn‘t get into a lengthy conversation with a householder.
It was now taking every single ounce of strength and concentration I could muster to hold on and stop myself wetting, I longed to hold myself between my legs, I really did, but of course I couldn‘t. 


It was a waking nightmare, the urges were getting just too strong to control now. I knew that I had two choices, I‘d have to tell David the problem, or I knew that for certain that I was going to uncontrollably wet myself right there in the street. "Err David," I said, "I errr really need to get to a toilet right now." 
My face was reddening both from embarrassment and from sheer desperation.
"Oh well, OK," he replied, "we‘ve generated a fair bit of interest today, come on then, lets go." So we went back to the car and I had to stop walking twice and cross my legs for a few seconds to regain control. 


In the car he seemed to take his time adjusting his interior car mirror, sorting through the unplaced literature etc., he didn‘t seem to realise how urgent my need was. I was sitting in his car my legs tightly clamped together gritting my teeth and fighting with every ounce of strength I had left to control my uncontrollable bladder. I was afraid to move, to talk, even to breathe properly!


He started the engine and we drove off, but to my horror I couldn‘t stop the spurts from escaping into my panties! I was terrified, then an uncontrollable urge hit me and I knew I was losing the fight, I knew I couldn‘t hold it anymore!
"STOP THIS CAR NOW!" I yelled. "What‘s up?" he replied looking puzzled.
"Oh just stop now and let me out, I‘m sorry." I sobbed as I felt more warm liquid soak my bum. He pulled over and almost before he‘d stopped, I had opened the door and nearly fell out of the car in my frantic attempts to try and hold on, but as I got out of the car, I completely and helplessly wet myself, it poured down my legs like a river and soaked the pavement at my feet! I just couldn‘t stop, it was gushing and hissing on its own, I had no control over it!


A few people stopped and stared, but I was way past the point of caring now - I couldn‘t have cared even if I‘d wanted to.


In all due respect to David, he knew what was happening, but he totally ignored it and just dropped me off at my door. When I got inside my own home and recalled it I got very aroused and I rubbed myself to one of the best orgasms I‘ve had in years, David respectfully never ever mentioned it again.

 

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You can email me your desperation-wetting stories and we might do a clip based on your story.

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