Posted by Bee on January 16, 2000 at 12:04
“Driver! Stop the couch, we need to get out for a minute!”
“Sorry ma’am, no can do that. We’ll be in Leeds in ‘alf an hour, ma’am.”
Half an hour? In half an hour I would no longer have any need to get out, that I was very sure of. My bladder had been sending very urgent messages for a long time now, but being the youngest in the party I hadn’t wanted to say anything, and I was very happy when Lady Mardew had asked the driver to stop the carriage. And now this! I moved a bit, pressed my thighs together firmly and tried to take my mother’s advice on situations like this, ‘think about something else’. Like what? All I could think about was how bad I needed to get out, find a suiting bush, lift my heavy skirts and just relax. If I had been alone I would have put my hands between my legs by now, I needed all the support I could get. If only the road hadn’t been so bumpy, every little bump made the situation worse; there was no way I would be able to hold it for another half hour. Please, driver, stop!
We crossed a bridge, a big bridge by the sound of it, arched above a big river. With lots of water. I saw Lady Mardew squirm in her seat as we passed it, and found a little comfort in the fact that I was not alone to be in agony. The carriage bumped over something, and I lost control for a moment. A warm, wet, wonderful squirt escaped, the cloth beneath me was suddenly damp. Oh, heavenly, if only I could do that again! But would I be able to stop then? What if I lost control and soaked myself? No, I had to, it was the only thing to do. Just a little, a few drops, just to relieve a little bit of the pressure.
Aaaaaaaah. It felt so good. I relaxed for a good second before regaining control, spread my legs half an inch and peed. By now I was really wet, but my skirt was made of dark green cloth, and I had nine undergarments on, no one would be able to see. I still had to go really bad, but it was better now. Maybe I would be able to hold it until Leeds. Poor Lady Mardew looked worse, though, squirming in her seat. Suddenly she got up again, screaming to the driver:
“You have to stop, now!”
“Sorry, ma’am.”
“Oh my God! I’m sorry about this, dear, but I really really have to go.” Her cream coloured skirt was made by silk. If she should wet in that it would be very obvious to every one what had happened. “Oh, God, what am I to do? No, I can’t accept this. Driver, stop! I have to get off, now!” He was still reluctant.
Watching Lady Mardew's agonies made my own worse again. The wet cloth began to get cold under me, and that too made things worse. As Lady Mardew turned her back to scream at the driver again I spread my legs again, relaxed and peed a little again. This time it was close to impossible to stop from letting everything go, I had to press my hand down for a moment, and wet my skirts a little in the front too.
Suddenly things began to happen very fast. Lady Mardew sat down, then jumped up, sat down and jumped up again. She gasped, hid her face in her hands and a distinct, hissing sound was heard over the bumps and quirks from the carriage. A puddle began to spread on the floor, and I saw the opportunity. I too stood up, and, while pretending to try to be of help, I finally let go. Warm pee rushed out of me, down my legs and onto the floor where it mixed with Lady Mardew’s. I forced myself to speak soothingly, held my arm around the poor Lady, peeing intensely as I did so. I managed to finish before the Lady did, and sat down beside her on her seat. My skirts were very wet, warm and wet against me, I was warm and wet myself, I wanted to move around again, for other reasons now, but forced myself to sit still and to go on speaking to the crying woman.
It was not until we reached Leeds and I was alone in my room that I, at last, could lift my heavy, wet skirts, put my hand against my very wet, very warm, very secret, and very itching place, and finally reach my climax.
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