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MsV

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Everything posted by MsV

  1. I enjoy the shifts in body language, little tell-tales, fidgetyness. But it's a tricky one for me, I only enjoy it if I know the other person on some level is , too. Whether that's a power thing, or simply they also love desperation, on some level.
  2. I really enjoyed this! Building tension and plenty for the imagination. Thank you1
  3. This was a great read! Thanks for sharing.
  4. I truly hate plane toilets, and I only ever use them on longer journeys. I will plan around that for shorter flights, and that means I usually arrive at my destination fairly desperate. The last time I traveled abroad, the airport was quite small, and it seemed the toilets were past the immigration desk. It felt like a very long bathroom queue indeed!
  5. Gosh I had a thought about this exact phenomenon this just week.I nearly always get a second strong urge soon after a hold, and I had wondered how common it is. Meetings are hellish for this kind of thing. Even when I'm running a meeting I don't like to break up the proceedings for my own needs, but I always try to build in frequent breaks to longer sessions, for comfort ( and attention spans!).
  6. I do love the appearance of the purple Always Discreet Boutique, but I really dislike the scent. An unscented version would be my ideal pullup, I think.
  7. I generally hover, although I don't find it easy, or comfortable. I suppose I do envy the convenience element of urinals but I don't think I'd enjoy the lack of privacy at all.
  8. Such a fun ride, I actually felt embarrassed for poor Holly, though, which is probably down to how real you made it.
  9. I've done the 'go the bathroom, but not actually GO to the bathroom' thing more times than I'd care to admit. I have a bit of a storied relationship with public or unfamiliar toilets, and without getting too deep, that's probably partly how I 'discovered' my feelings around desperation. And yes, this was me, one Saturday. It was probably more premeditated than I quite admit, I'd given the whole thing some thought beforehand, was curious how far I'd go, but once I started I found myself really committing to it. I do write fiction from time to time and lately, when I write these things up I consciously try and put the details and drama I'd enjoy in the story in to the narrative. My notes tend to be either a bit impressionistic ("twitchy, draggy, slow - supermarket'") or quite clinical ("Tea, small water, no break") and when I write things up I enjoy almost picturing myself as a character in one of my stories, if that doesn't sound too odd.
  10. (Note: contains alcohol) Last week I did something quite out of character. I went out, late, on a work night! I know. I'm not too old to be wild. A friend had a spare ticket for a concert, and while I wasn't quite as in to the band as they were, it would have felt churlish and middle-aged of me to turn down opportunity of a frivolous, noisy night out. I planned on having at least a couple of drinks, so during the afternoon I sipped a little extra water t my desk, and before heading out I made sure I popped to the loo before to and tidied myself up before heading out. Gig toilets are always dicey, and I was hoping to get by without relying on the ones at the venue. I arrived near the venue before my friend, and she told me to pick a bar to meet at. Being Christmas, places were heaving, but I found one that looked just about feasible, and met her outside. It was chilly and I was keen to get into the warm, and when she finally arrived we hugged quickly and elbowed our way to a spot on a high table, no chairs, but enough space to perch a glass. We grabbed some quick, less-than-excellent snacks while we caught up, We had time for a second round before the support act, and while I queued, my friend guarded the table. I was in a bit of a dilemma with my scheduling – I could easily hold on for a while now, but I'd probably end up spoiling the gig, being fidgety and debating braving the toilets at the venue. So, I decided to nip to the toilets at the bar, before we left, and I slightly regretted it. Firstly, I had that feeling of wasting the opportunity for a nice bit of background desperation, and secondly, the loos here were easily as bad as any basement gig! I felt proud for being sensible, though, and we took the short walk round the corner to the concert. Even in smallish places, it's always about queuing. Queuing to get in, to get our bags checked, checked, queuing for the cloakroom. And of course queuing at the bar. The support band had started, and neither of us knew much about them but they were fun, actually. Towards the end of the set my friend waved her plastic glass at me and nipped off to get us a couple more for the main act. I was starting to feel the need for a second trip, but I didn't fancy another queue, and passing the toilets on the way had told me enough to let me know I'd be happier staying out here. So I sipped my drink and shuffled my feet a little, waiting for the main act. I was about two thirds back, no risk of dancing, but an ok view. My friend's a bit shorter than me, and when the band arrived, she quickly squeezed herself forward a little, leaving me and my plastic glass and my slowly expanding bladder alone. I enjoyed the music, shutting my eyes, as I often do at gigs, and I also enjoyed the hum of the bass through a moderately full bladder … it was quite soothing, a sort of warm, steady feeling. I was a little impatient through the encore/no encore pantomime, ass I really wanted to make my last train, and I knew had the cloakroom queue and the walk down to the station ahead of me. I was also feeling a little more urgent, now, my bladder changing from a vague full feeling to something a little tighter, more insistent. My friend came and found me once the set was over and we chatted, a little deafly in the queue for our coats. I was squeezing my muscles just a little to keep the feelings in check, but I was happy enough to tough it out until I got home. Once we were outside, my friend suggested a quick drink afterwards, but I took the unusual step of turning it down - I honestly did want to make my train, and it was a work night, after all. We said goodbye, had a slightly sweaty post-gig hug and she headed for the bus, while I marched off to the train, checking my watch and picking up my pace about halfway. The slightly panicky will-I-miss-the-train feeling seemed to have quieted my need to pee for now, although I was still aware of a tightness in my abdomen. I made the station ok, but had to scurry up the steps to make the train, and the bouncing motion wasn't very pleasant at all. I was relieved to have made it, and relaxed a little as I got in to the warmth of the train. My feet hadn't loved the few hours stood up in boots, so I took a seat and settled in for the journey, which always feels slower at night. Sitting down, calmer, the big rush done, I was much more aware of my bladder. I had that sort of pressing feeling, not painful but sort of uneasy. I lent forward a little, and I draped an arm over the top of my stomach, as a vague gesture of comfort, which really seemed to help. I got lost in my phone, texting my friend and browsing idly, distracting myself from counting stops. As the journey got on I felt the feelings shift a bit, more in the background, a sort of tugging, tingly feeling, tolerable. I was glad to see my station, but the cold air made my muscles clench a little and I was walking just a little tightly, on the balls of my feet, when I got to the bus stop. There were plenty of post-office-party people there, and the atmosphere was lively, but good natured. I don't think anyone noticed me shifting my feet slightly, or the occasional little circular walk, which helped with the little throbs I was starting to get. The bus was a late, of course, but once it arrived it was pretty quick on the quiet roads. I was feeling fuller now, I remember feeling grateful that my dress was quite loose, and I was tapping my feet slightly as it got nearer my stop, already thinking of the calm quiet of home, the hum of the fan on the bathroom, warm pyjamas and sleep. I got off and started the walk home, finding my pace picking up the closer I got, my bladder feeling jumpy, giving these little jerky twitches at regular intervals, and the squeezes seemed to get more frequent, and a little harder, as I reached the door. I'm terrible for latch-key feelings, so I dug my keys out early, popped them in my coat pocket. The little ritual seemed to make my bladder tingle a little more, even though I had a bit to go. I was quick on the doorstep, holding my breath for some reason as I tried to be open the door quickly and quietly, cold hands and few drinks not helping that one bit. I bounced once or twice from foot to foot as I did, then slipped in quickly. I went through the quiet house, tiptoeing in my boots as best I could, really aware of the ringing in my ears after the concert, and headed straight for the bathroom. I felt my bladder jumping a bit as I got closer, the throbbing feelings feeling deeper, more intense. Once I got to the bathroom I realised I still had my coat on, so I shrugged out of it as quickly as I could, hung it on the back of the door, stepping a little from toe to toe as I turned around. I had that shaky, 'not yet, not yet!' kind of feeling as I danced to towards the loo. I still had my keys in my hand, too, and I had a sudden image of me losing them from my cold , slightly tipsy hands, so I threw them in to the sink and shuffled quickly over the toilet, little clenching waves every second of two now. But I was there, I let out a big breath, skirt up, tights and underwear down as I sat down in one clumsy motion, and I was ok, I was home, and I sighed deeply as I let my muscles relax, feeling free, shivering a little, tilting my head back with the relief.
  11. I really enjoyed this - I particularly like how you write sensations.
  12. Thanks for all the kind comments. I considered tagging the resolution, but I think I prefer some mystery, to begin with!
  13. I enjoyed sharing my first story, and I thought I'd tidy up another, fairly recent adventure and share it here. (Note: contains alcohol) It was a breezy day in Autumn, and I had plans. I'd agreed to meet a couple of friends for lunch : it had been one their birthdays earlier that week, and we'd agreed to we'd treat her to lunch before doing some shopping. My two friends lived pretty close to one another and after the usual hundred or so WhatsApp messages we'd decided the details. I'd get the train to near them, we'd walk to lunch, then head to the shopping centre. I hadn't been there in a while, but I remembered the last time I was there I'd stubbornly refused to make use of the bathrooms, which were a bit out of the way, right by the lifts and always crowded. I'd spent a pleasant, slightly fidgety afternoon browsing around, and although I don't often like holding in company, the temptation was there. I fussed a bit with my outfit - the shopping centre was always boiling hot, but it was a chilly day. Tricky. I'd planned to wear a dress, but found I had no tights clean, so there was a bit of last minute kerfuffle. I added 'laundry' to my mental to-do list for later. As I was getting ready, I was swapping my things between handbags when I noticed a extra pad in one of the pockets. I'd bought some Always Discreet pads earlier in the year, purely to play around with, and while I wasn't wild about the scent, they were comfy, and I'd enjoyed using / misusing them , on and off. I still wasn't firmly committed to anything, but I left the pad where it was and headed off to the station I walked briskly, having spent a bit of time getting ready, but I made my train , just about. I was quite relaxed on the train, and not needy at all. I sipped a little water from my bottle and the journey went quite quickly. I was a little sluggish -the rush had meant I had no time to pick up a coffee on the way, and I was feeling the need for a mid-morning boost before all the walking and talking and browsing. I got off at the other end and walked to meet my friends, on time, but without much to spare. We took a little detour through a park, and I was delighted to see that as well as the usual little market stalls they have there on a Saturday, there was one of those little coffee trucks. I insisted we stop, got myself a drink, and sipped it while my friends browsed the stalls for a bit. We had some time before lunch and checked out one or two of the shops near the cafe, and as we stepped out from one of them in to the cold air I noticed the caffeine starting to nudge at my bladder. I've probably gotten used to that ritual of a mid-morning drink and a break straight after, but if I really ignore it, that urge can fade comfortably away for quite while, so I just focused on our conversation as we headed to lunch. We sat indoors at a corner table, and the birthday girl headed off to the bathroom. I felt a bit of a jealous twinge myself, but also that strange, vague contentment I get from denying myself, feeling both strong and silly, in a way. I think this was when I decided I was consciously going to avoid breaks, although I'm not sure I'd decided how long for. When she got back we ordered, and my other friend insisted we get some wine, it being a celebration. I made myself drink a little water before our drinks came, and again before food. The meal flew by, and by the time we left, we were into mid-afternoon. By now I had a sort of warm, comfy tug of need , quite a steady feeling of minor pressure,. My mouth was a little dry from the talking an the wine, and I clumsily refilled my water bottle from the jug on the table before we left. My other friend, who was not the birthday popped to the loo before we left, saying she how much she hated the toilets in the shopping centre. This reminded me of the mission I'd found myself on, and I felt a little vague cramp from my bladder at the thought off all that walking without relief. The cold air outside seemed to intensify my need a little ,as it always does. As we walked to the shops I found I was clenching just a little as I walked, my jeans felt a little tight, and I had the occasional tight feeling of urgency, but I could certainly wait, and I intended to. I was feeling relaxed, adventurous. Perhaps it was the wine! I took a big swig of water as we got to the shopping centre and first shop was quite quick – just a few bits of makeup. I was feeling pretty in control, the slight tightness still there but nothing major. I got a bit cocky, perhaps and decided to finish my water bottle in next shop. We were there a while, looking for a present for a friend, and while we debated out choices I took regular, casual sips of water. Eventually we got a consensus and headed out. Now things got more earnest. Clothes shopping. Friend A wanted a coat, and friend B needed a dress for a party, and we had our work cut out. I hadn't quite succeeded in finishing my water, so I threw it all back in a big gulp before we got to the next shop. We headed up an escalator and for some reason standing still while in motion made me notice my bladder that bit more. I wasn't in pain but I was distracted, a little sweaty even, and found I wasn't quite concentrating as well. My bladder felt heavy, and I noticed a slight throbbing feeling start as we stepped off. After the first clothes shop I was walking a little slower than my friends, being a bit ginger with my swollen bladder but I'm pretty sure I wasn't betraying my need at all. My friend's dress search took a while and involved a lot of time hanging around the changing rooms. The waiting made me notice my need to pee just that bit more – the throbbing was building just a little. I could have sat down on the benches nearby but I stood, shifting my weight a little from foot to foot, and that helped a lot. The dress search was still on and we popped next door. I was clenching my teeth a little as waves of pressure appeared from time to time, but I was still pretty controlled overall. I spotted something I sort of liked myself, and my friends pressed me to try it on. Getting changed was actually a little bit torturous, for me, the private space, the freeing feeling of getting my jeans off, but no release. I studied the dress, rubbed my hand a little over my bladder to soothe it. I felt a little thrill for being secretly squirmy in a public space, imagined the shock and shame of just letting go in the changing room. (I wouldn't, of course, I never make a mess for anyone else to deal with... but the image was delicious!) Dress duly scrutinised, and rejected, I queued up with my friend while she bought hers. I find queues are brilliantly awful places when you need to go. Time just stops. Eventually we left, and it was getting near evening. Friend B needed to head off soon, and suggested we grab a quick coffee before she went. I have a sort of rule, when I'm holding, that I won't deliberately avoid drinks, if they're offered, so we went to a cafe in the centre. I had a green tea, and filled my bottle up again from the water station by the till. I had my legs crossed on the hard cafe chair but was pretty pleased with how my little adventure was going. I felt tense, full, basically on top of things, but uncomfortable, the throbs starting to feel a little achey now. We drank our drinks quite quickly, and said goodbye to friend B. We were pretty shopped out, and friend A (the birthday girl) had some time to kill before she had to head out for dinner nearby. We walked out of the shopping centre, and as we left the cold air seemed to give me a real squeeze, my bladder feeling big and tight all of a sudden. I clenched my hand in my pocket and made myself breathe, focus on my conversation. We agreed we'd head for a quick drink before I caught my train back. My friend led us to a pub, and I found each step a little uncomfortable after my day without breaks. I found myself thinking about what sort of bathrooms the pub might have. I interrupted that thought and gave myself a 'No, Vee, we're almost there, you'll wait til you get home', kind of pep talk. I find that holding has that sort of momentum, sometimes, I don't like to ruin it by giving in too early. The green tea had taken some effect by now and I was noticing a sort of twingy, tingly feeling as we got in to the bar. The place was pretty busy I said I'd get the drinks, while my friend found us a table. Queueing at the bar I noticed I was squeezing my muscles to keep the feelings under control. I was sure I could wait, but I was finding it was taking more and more effort to keep things composed. I distracted myself by playing on my phone for a bit,, and my friend had helpfully text me to tell me where she'd sat. I took our drinks and found my friend, who less helpfully, immediately excused herself to go the loo when I arrived. I said I didn't need to join her, and would guard our table, instead, and I got myself as comfortable as I could while I waited for her, taking off my coat and draping an arm across my twitchy abdomen. I found myself fidgeting with my fingers a little, and found the throbbing sensation was getting more insistent. My friend seemed to take forever getting back to our table. While I waited I tried to think how long it was since my last pee, thinking fondly of my bathroom at home. I had one of those thoughts I have when I hold in company, realising that people might think it odd that hadn't used the toilet at all, so I resolved I 'd dive off when my friend got back, for appearances sake. We chatted a bit when she got back, and I excused myself and went off to the ladies. My bladder twinged hopefully when I got myself there, but I wasn't going to give in some easily. I waited for a stall, slipped in, and squeezed my legs together. I could do this. I decided to add something extra to the adventure, and fished the pad out of my bag. I breathed deeply, decided against sitting down in case I failed, and got my jeans and panties down. The action sparked a twitchy, urgent feeling but I got control, put the pad in place, and redressed. I was a bit rushed, wanting to get it over with as soon as possible, and I realised the shaky feeling I get when I'm starting to find control harder had arrived. I expected it would be better once I left, so I washed my hands hastily - and wow, that was hard. The water on my hands made my bladder leap, and for a minute I thought I'd have to rush back to the stall. I focused on my breath, made myself compose my face in the mirror, I looked sort of flustered, my mouth drawn tight – and dried my hands before heading back to the table. As we talked I was hunched forward in my chair, leaning closer to hear my friend, with one leg crossed,, and the posture really helped control the prodding discomfort my bathroom trip had triggered. I tried not to think too much about the train journey home, the spectacle of a wet spot on my jeans as I shuffled home coming to mind. The pad in my knickers felt kind of inviting - perhaps after my earlier experiments with them, my mind associated them with some release, as well as that sort of secure feeling I get from some padding, when I'm desperate. The vague awareness of security and temptation was perversely enjoyable. We finished our drinks – I'd let my friend do a lot of the talking in the last few minutes, while I tried to ignore my insistent need - and said our goodbye. I made myself walk quickly to the station, hoping to get an earlier train maybe, and the bouncing of my feet of the pavement jolted my bladder quite sharply. I felt heavy, my jeans were definitely a bit less comfy now, and I toyed with undoing my top button, but decided to keep walking. The wait on the cold platform for the train seemed impossibly long. I walked in a small circle on the platform, the motion distracting me from the tugging cramps I was getting quite often now. When the train arrived I rushed on, turned towards a seat, but decided to stand, allowing myself the space to shift my weight from foot to foot. I fumbled with my headphones as a distraction, listened to some music. As I got them out of my bag I noticed my full water bottle, and while I didn't really want to add anything to my day's intake, I reasoned that I'd had booze, coffee, tea, so it was best to hydrate. I crossed my legs as I took a slightly shaky sip, then another, before putting the bottle back, trying not to count down the stops back to mine. By the time I got off I had a fairly constant throb in my abdomen and could only think about getting home as quickly as a I could. I strode off, not being able to face the wait for a bus. Even if it might have been quicker overall, I couldn't stand the uncertain wait, after being on the platform earlier. At least this way I was in motion, in control, and I walked in time to the music, every step letting my bladder know that relief was coming, an the feeling on tension started to build as I got closer to home. Even when I'm not holding, consciously at least, I'm terrible for latch key desperation. I shuffled my keys out of my bag, crossing my legs as a discreetly as I could while I rummaged around. It felt nice to squeeze against the soft dry pad. The throb from below felt like a countdown timer I had no control over, and I felt I was racing to beat it through to the bathroom. My muscles felt quite tight and tired from holding on so long, and I imagined how good it would feel to unclench them. Mistake. As I shut the door, I felt a sort of shaky judder, and a little warmth, maybe? Had I leaked a little?..No time to worry, anyway, the pad would be fine. I dropped my bag and coat, my knees feeling quite wobbly, my breath was quite tight, and I was poised to rush to the bathroom at full tilt. I made myself stop for a second, just to see if I could. I managed it, standing quite upright, dancing a little from toe to toe. I considered my state . I'd made it, after all, and I deserved to enjoy the release. All the way home I'd pictured myself sat on the toilet, panting with relief, but when I'd got to the doorstep, I had a fleeting thought of dropping my keys, or failing to find them at all, and feeling the hours of tension burst and just soaking my jeans. I couldn't really decide how to end my hold, and in a way, I didn't want to. I was pacing a little bit now, my bladder twisting and pushing at me to make a choice. I gritted my teeth and tried to think. I didn't really want to have to wash the jeans, as I didn't have many clean, and was overdue some laundry, and the longer I dithered, the more of a risk that was. So, laundry....that was it! I'd do 'one more thing' before going. I always like that as a challenge, and one I'd focused on the practical job at hand, I felt I recovered a bit of composure. So I headed off to fetch the laundry basket. . Bending down was quite painful, and I definitely felt a little trickle as I set the basket down on the floor. I made a little gasp, and started dancing a little from foot to foot. Almost there! I loaded the machine, grabbing an old pair of pyjama bottoms out as I did. I headed to the bathroom with the pyjamas in one hand, bent over at the waist now, my bladder pulsing constantly, hard and angry. I yanked my jeans down as quickly as a I could - felt as if events had a mind of their own now and I was going to go soon, regardless. I stepped out of the jeans and kicked them in to the corner in case of any more leaks. I stood up straight, pressed my thighs together for a second, The pad seemed to be pretty dry, having dealt with the leaks alright. I pulled my knickers down a little, snuck a look. I'd definitely leaked, but it didn't seem to be too bad, and the material has done its magic already. Pulling them down had a been a step too far, though, and I felt myself using every last bit of effort to stop the little dribble that escaped from turning in to a flood. I pulled them up, grabbed the pyjamas and stepped in to the shower. As I was pulling the trousers on I could feel myself giving in, the familiarity of the shower letting me relax finally, and I shivered as felt the first wave of moisture spreading over the pad, a tiny warm trickle at the side. I watched a smalll dark patch appear at the front, spread gradually down one leg. I could feel the liquid pooling over the pad as the flow got faster, some of it flowing towards the back, making the pyjamas cling there, but most of it escaping down the inside of my left leg. I felt light headed, still a little shaky, and gradually, as I kept going, my feet in the middle of a little puddle, the feeling of relief started to arrive, my shoulders relaxed, and a I gave a deep, low sigh. I held on to the shower wall to steady myself a bit, and took a while to take in the aftermath, before quickly getting in to cleanup mode, carefully binning the pad, getting the laundry done, and texting my friends to tell them how much I'd enjoyed the day out – and the wine!
  14. I'm glad you enjoyed it, it was a bit nerve-wracking putting it out there, as it were. Thank you both!
  15. This was a lot of fun to read, thank you. I loved the pacing!
  16. A couple of weekends ago, I was out for dinner with friends. It wasn't especially fancy, just a casual catchup in a pub on a Saturday, before everywhere went crazy with Christmas parties. Once we'd sat down, the the person to my left asked me what I'd been up that day. I replied, with all the nonchalance I could, that I'd not done very much, really, just run a few errands, you know, been to the gym. Yep, here I am, bragging about exercise on the internet. But hear me out.. Firstly, I am not a regular gym goer. I go there so infrequently that when I do, I have to write my access code down on the back of my hand. Secondly, I've spent a while deciding which experience to share first. I've always enjoyed exploring desperation, and all the rest, and I've written a few of my experiments down, over time, and more so this past year. Having decided to take the plunge and share some of them, I was in a real bind as to what to begin with. Something typical? Daring? Formative, revelatory? Trapped by indecision, I decided to keep it simple : I'd share my most recent one. The drawback is , apart from making me sound like a smug gym goer, it also makes me sound a lot more daring and transgressive than I really am. The story itself is quite embarrassing for me, but that seems to be part of this whole thing, sometimes. So anyway, it's an outlier, but it was fun, in the end, and I've resolved to just go with it. As I say, I'm not exactly a regular at my gym. I'd been doing a little (very slow) running over summer and I'd felt better for it, and as things got colder and darker, and my enthusiasm for hitting the pavements quickly shrank, I resolved to try and use the gym more, instead, over winter. I liked being outdoors in the summer, but I've always found gyms a little dull by comparison, something of a chore. On Friday I had a couple of drinks after work, before the train home. I pulled my usual trick of skipping the loo trip before heading to the station, and the journey home felt slow. I was twitchy, distracted, a little throbby. The jolts of the train as it dragged its way to my stop were unpleasant, and I found myself clenching in anticipation every time it rounded a bend, or pulled in to a station. I power walked home, via the shop for wine and pizza, and after a sweary fumble with my keys at the door (I managed not to leak, but I was certainly shaky) I thundered through the house to the bathroom, where I gasped with relief, peeing before I'd even say down properly. Waiting for the oven to heat up, I decided I would definitely make tomorrow my first gym day of the winter. I set an alarm on my phone, and settled in for a lazy evening. When my alarm went the next day I was less than happy. I dragged myself up, had a lazy breakfast , fresh coffee, and listened to a record. It was a dreary drizzly day, and I was reluctant to leave the warmth of my dressing gown and get moving. Eventually, realising it was getting close to lunchtime (I can't concentrate on anything when I'm hungry), I resolved to get moving. I showered, used the bathroom like a sensible person, and began to get my things ready. I was feeling a little sluggish, and procrastinating, perhaps, I allowed myself a big mug of tea while I packed my bag. Making tea, I realised I didn't have much by way of lunch in the house, and I debated delaying my trip in order to buy some supplies. But I knew I was making excuses, so I decided to head to the shops after my session, reward myself with something good. That meant I'd prefer to shower at the gym (I get really self-conscious at the idea of meeting people I know when I'm a sweaty mess. It's silly, I know – there's nothing wrong with fresh sweat, and I never mind it on others, but what can I say?) So I packed a towel, a change of clothes, and all the bits. I decided I'd tie my hair up, have a quick shower there, and wash my hair properly when I got back. Having packed my things, I dug out a water bottle, filled it up. I remembered you're supposed to be hydrated before exercise, and my diet of coffee and tea so far probably wasn't ideal, so I forced myself to drink - slowly- a whole bottle before I went out, then refilled it and promised myself I'd sip more on the way there. As I was putting my trainers on I felt a bit of an urge to pee, but I decided to skip it, and in fact, I was determined to not go until after my workout. I like to add tension to boring jobs, so I'd decided to reward myself with the thrill of release once I'd finished my session. I walked purposefullly up the slight hill to the gym, feeling pleased that I'd managed to overcome my cozy Saturday vibe and get out there. I was about halfway there when I remembered I was supposed to be hydrating. The bottle was in my bag, and I waited until I reached a quite spot to dig it out, took a few quick slurps. I also fussed around a bit with my clothes. I'd worn these leggings quite a bit to run, and they were always pretty comfy, but they seemed to be rubbing a little on the hips. Nothing too bad. Perhaps they'd shrunk in the wash, or my hips had grown a little, but I had to kind of tug the waistband to get them comfortable, and the fabric gave my bladder a gentle squeeze as I did so, and seemed to keep on doing it as I finished my walk to the gym. Once I got there, typed my little code in, and crossed the floor trying to look purposeful and chilled, I put my stuff in a locker, put my headphones in, and went out to the cardio floor. Gyms are like supermarkets – they always seem to rearrange everything to confuse poor me whenever I go. But the water fountains were in the same place, at least, and I topped up my bottle before starting on a cross-trainer. I was enjoying the rhythm of the machine, and actually, the smooth back and forth was almost soothing on a slightly nagging bladder. I kept sipping every few minutes, allowing myself to think a little about the release I'd promised myself later. About half way through my time on the cross-trainer my wardrobe issues resurfaced. There was a bit of a rubbing feeling on the top of my hips, and he motion was definitely making it worse. I tugged at my leggings to try and sort it out as I went, but the rubbing was a bit distracting, so eventually I paused the machine and got off. Under the pretence of some stretching, I snuck a thumb under the waistband to try and see what was going on. Even from a quick prod, it was clear what had happened. My leggings seemed fine, but somehow the sides of my panties were kind of rolling down a little, and the creases were rubbing my skin as I moved. I gave a quick glance around me before hiking my knickers and my leggings up higher, hoping they'd behave better under tension. My undignified intervention seemed to have helped, and I finished my time on the cross-trainer, gave myself a quick water break, stretched and went over to the treadmills. I picked one on the end of the row, no mirror (does anyone actually like the mirrors?) but a bit of a view over the train tracks from the small high window, instead. I popped my water bottle in the holder and started a walking warmup while I sorted out my music. As I picked up pace, the up and down thud on my bladder got more intense, and I felt a kind of vague, dull, not-quite aching tension spread with each step. Between that and the slow pace I was quite calm, unaware of the room around me, just feeling the waves spread, and I remember thinking how pleasant it was to add some desperation to something I normally find a little dull. But sure enough my kit problems came back to burst my little bubble. I could feel the elastic sliding down my hip, and a quick, furtive yank on succeeded only in giving me a whole other kind of discomfort from the fabric being pulled too tight. I was quite grumpy, now, and blushing a bit at the constant adjustments I was having to make. I decided to go and sort things out a bit more thoroughly, slowed my run to a stop, and took myself off the changing rooms. I sipped impatiently at my bottle as I went, trying to look composed, sorted, not like the kind of amateur who is derailed by some minor clothing dramas. I felt a little too self-conscious to start rearranging things as required in the middle of the changing room, so I took myself off to a toilet cubicle to sort things. I felt around a bit. I'd got the worst of both worlds, going on – rolled down and rubbing on my hips, yanked far to tight across the back. Ugh. Fun fact: I've never actually used the toilets at the gym. That didn't stop my body from deciding now was a perfect time to relieve myself, thank you, and I took a deep breath and made myself settle in to one of those 'Not now' holding clenches. Things got worse of course when I pulled my leggings to my knees, then my knickers, the little trigger motions meaning I had to focus really hard on not letting for for a few seconds before rearranging everything satisfactorily. My skin was a bit upset by all the rubbing and yanking, and I resolved to throw out these old pants as soon as I got the chance. They'd served me well for years, and they were a bit faded and stretched and so soooo soft. They lived in the back of the drawer, in the 'comfy, but not for public display' category. You know the one I mean. Anyway, when running I usually grabbed something from back there and I'd done the same this morning, but it seemed the pair I'd picked had given up, elastic- wise, and with tight leggings and lots of movement they'd transformed from reliable old companion to torture instrument quite rapidly. I was so annoyed at the chafing and the need to stop every so often that I seriously considered chucking them right then. I wasn't brave enough to go out there again without any on, but I had a pair for later in my bag....but if I did that, I'd have nothing clean, and it feels weird having a shower and putting old clothes on. And no, I was not going without while I did my shopping : I was not in that kind of mood, today, at least. So, adjustments made, I went back out, determined to finish, my bladder protesting at the missed opportunity for a mid-session release. I got back on the treadmill, thinking longingly of my reward once I'd finished. I let my mind torture me with that prospect for a while, and thought back to a few particularly cathartic releases I'd had over the summer. The ones I was thinking most of involved flooding clothes, for some reason, and if that was the mood I was in.... I ran through some options. I could add on some extra time, make myself wait until I was home, and flood before washing my hair. I could even be fully clothed. I was sure I'd make it but I might not enjoy the last part, shopping, given how my bladder was twitching a little with every stride now. I'd maybe be a little tense, grit my teeth a bit. And I always run in to someone at that supermarket on a Saturday, and I'm sure they'd think me rude or weird for looking so twitchy. So, I didn't fancy that... The fabric under my leggings was shifting again, nagging at my hips, and honestly, I was just about done with the whole experience now. I was impatient and hot and I needed to pee and I hated hated hated these knickers. So, I resolved. I slowed my run to the cooldown section, making sure I did every last second, enjoying and resenting the rising pressure on my bladder, the warm buzz. I got off the treadmill, gave my clothes a last, furtive tug back in to place, and stretched. I finished my water on the way back to the changing room, and remembered to refill it. The water fountains are always so slow at this place, and it felt like it took five minutes to fill the bottle again. I was a bit desperate, but in control, holding my legs quite tight together. My puffy breathing after my run seemed to be pushing my bladder up and down a bit roughly, and I was a bit stiff and unnatural as I went towards the changing rooms. I saw my cheeks flushed in a mirror as I went past. That's one thing I'll say for gyms – no-one can tell if you're flushed with excitement, or just working hard. I was definitely both. I got my things from the locker and grabbed the towel, bodywash and had another sip of cool water while I had a quick glance around. Quite a few showers free, and no-one waiting. I rushed myself out of my kit and popped the towel round me. And instead of slipping my knickers off, I left the vicious, untrustworthy things on underneath the towel and headed for the shower. I hung my towel up on the hook and darted through the door to the stall, blushing that someone would notice me improperly dressed. I locked the door, took a deep breath. The floor was so cold on my feet, and somehow that made me tense up, made my bladder throb more. And that may or may not have been because I had previously 'multitasked' during my previous visits to the showers here, and my bladder might or might not have taken me entering the stall as a cue that relief was on the way. I composed myself, got control of my body for a bit, and took stock. I was still breathing a unevenly after the treadmill, and I heard my breathing off the walls of the cubicle.. Was I really going to? No one could see my attire through the door, but it was oddly quiet, away from the sinks and lockers, and I wasn't thrilled at the idea of being overheard. I adjusted the loose waistband of my underwear again, felt the hot angry creases on my hips where they had dug in. While I was gathering my courage, the throb in my bladder started to get more regular, sharper, and I was finding holding more of a conscious effort. I heard someone start up a hair dryer. That was my cue. Perfect cover. I slipped a hand between my legs, imagined the warmth spreading over my fingers, the fabric getting heavier, starting to cling. But stage fright had me firmly, and I was both desperate, and frustrated at my inability to unlock and just let it happen. Maybe I should just go later? The idea made me shiver a little, nervous, impatient. The hair dryer cut out, and I felt a little silly, stood the small stall in my baggy, faded knickers. I imagined how silly I'd look to someone, and I hugged an arm over my chest, double checked the lock. It was fine, but I could hear steps outside, a sort of shuffling gliding walk. The mystery shuffler took a stall a way down from me and spent no time at all getting the water going. I wondered if they were sneakily letting go, under the water. That seemed to help, that and the sound, and a pressed my legs together and felt a few tentative drips, the warmth just touching my inner things. I sighed, cover my mouth with the arm I had clutched over my chest, and gradually unwound myself, letting myself just go, feeling the fabric spread the warmth all around me, the slow, constant stream down the inside of my legs, the warmth around my toes. I made a small, soft noise into the palm of my hand, felt I was smiling, grinning even at the folly and transgression and the relief of it. And I was done, and they were soaked ,and I felt that lightness of breath, that rush from being relieved. I almost giggled at how naught I'd been. I felt the damage a little, wished, for once , for a mirror, and then got back in a sensible mode, stripped off the soaking cotton, popped them on the shelf next to my bodywash, and showered. I actually felt a bit guilty about chucking them away in this state, so I rinsed them out under the shower a few times, wringing them dry. I got my towel on, balled up my destroyed old underwear tightly in my hand, and minced guiltily from the shower to the sinks, pretending to check my hair while I dropped them in the bin near the counter. I changed, reveling in a dry, comfortable pair of underwear, and took myself off to the shops for my reward, before heading home to wash my hair and replay my little adventure in my head in a more leisurely way.....
  17. Having agonised over my introduction, I finally found a way to focus myself: I'm not allowed my mid-morning break (for tea, and a quick trip to the bathroom) until I've completed my first post. So, deep breath... Hi! Nice to meet you. I'm V, I'm from the UK. I'm in my 30s, and I'm busy, clumsy, found of books and nature. And and I like...well.. Desperation. Wetting, sometimes, and sometimes just the rush of relief. The comfort of letting go. The challenge, of making a game out of things, like I did with my post. I'm quite private, in many ways, and I'm not always totally comfortable discussing these things, but I have often enjoyed writing down my occasional adventures. I find knowing I'll be writing them down later makes me pay more attention to the details, and I enjoy reliving them. I thought this might be a discreet, understanding place to air some of them, from time to time. I'll probably use this site as a bit of secret diary. I won't necessarily be here all that often, and as I say, I can be quite hesitant about discussion, but I'm looking forward to sharing some stories when time permits. Some things I enjoy : stories, real life experiences. I'm quite broad in my tastes, but the basic themes I'm drawn to: adults who probably should have used the bathroom when they had the chance, or who deliberately chose not to, or who have been denied permission to do so, as a form of play. People 'just letting go', as well, or 'just making it', or not quite making it. Some things I'm not looking for : a partner, humiliation from strangers. Well, that wasn't so bad, in the end. I'm off for some tea. V
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