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Jimmy Lang

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Jimmy Lang last won the day on November 16 2014

Jimmy Lang had the most liked content!

About Jimmy Lang

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  1. THANK YOU. Phew! That would have been tragic to lose those epic Gillian stories, among others. RIP Sher and Ger's, the first omo site I ever found.
  2. Another story for you, friends!

     

  3. Always visit the restroom when you need to because you might not get another chance. Jenna knew this. She KNEW this, and yet here she was in traffic, parked on the highway behind a trailer truck, and bouncing her leg up and down and twisting the fabric of her tight black yoga pants in a death grip. “Mmmm,” she moaned in frustration and despair and mounting pee desperation. Jenna needed to have a drug test for her new job. Peeing in a cup. She was running some errands beforehand and when she felt the urge to go, she decided to save it for the test. It wasn’t supposed to take this long to get there, though. In fact, she should have been done and home by now, if it weren’t for this unexpected traffic. Always check your traffic app. Another thing she knew. Jenna thought about abandoning the mission, pulling off the highway and shuffling into a coffee shop to pee. She fantasized about the clattering sound of the stall door slamming shut, the sensation of her soft lycra pants and pink cotton bikini panties sliding down her skin, and of the familiar surging relief in her groin. But no. She could wait. “It’s not that bad,” she decided. Plus, if she let it all out now, she would have to wait before she could do the test, and she needed to get it done soon to start work. She grunted in frustration. Jenna’s need was to pee was increasing. She could feel the familiar hot pressure between her legs, and was starting to feel the pressure of her waist band across her tight stomach. She groaned in frustration and banged her hand against the steering wheel. She could make it; it was just going to be uncomfortable. Jenna started to grind her tight, athletic butt cheeks into the car seat to help with her hold, but the brake lights in front of her blinked off, and she needed to drive. “At least we’re moving now,” she muttered under her breath, and turned up the radio. “But damn I have to pee. This suuucks.” · * * * Michael was at his desk in the lobby of DuraLab Services (a boring job) when he saw the tall woman with short blonde hair and bangs coming up the path outside with quick, mincing steps. She had black yoga pants that hugged her muscular thighs and followed the curve of her hips, ending against her belly button on her flat stomach. A flash of her flat tummy was exposed just where her white tank top ended. Michael saw the young woman toss an iced coffee cup into the trash with unusual force as she came up. The woman power-walked right up to Michael – he could swear she gave a little sigh as she came in through the door – and introduced herself. “I’m here for an appointment,” she said, stress in here voice and talking fast. He had seen this before. “Sure,” he said. “I have you in our system. First I just need you to fill out these forms.” · * * * Jenna sat with her legs as tightly together as she could, twisting and driving her right heel into the floor like she was trying to dig a hole in it. Her bladder was nagging her incessantly and she knew she had made a mistake with this. She fantasized about running next door to the little restaurant – and it would be a run! – and finally just peeeeeing! Or about begging to be let in to use the bathroom here in the lab. Screw the test. But she had to get this done. Her leg bouncing was screwing up her handwriting and Jenna had to stop. She clenched every muscle below her waist hard, bit her lip as her crotch burned. Flip the page. Just one more. She checked boxes without hardly looking at them, and scribbled a signature before practically jumping out of her chair and rushing over to the reception desk. · * * * Bang! Michael jumped in surprise as the attractive customer slammed the clipboard down on his desk. “Sorry. All set. Can I please do the test now?” She asked. Michael saw her give a little curtsy. The woman looked flushed, like she had just gone for a quick jog, and her cheeks were starting to go red. “Um, just a moment,” Michael said. “We have one other person in back, then we have to get everything all set. It should just be a minute or two.” The woman looked crestfallen and her body dipped again as she quickly bent her knees twice before straightening back up. “OK,” she said, terse, and Michael had a great view of her beautiful round bottom as she moved back to her chair. The woman crossed her legs in a tight twist, right over left, with her right foot looping back around her left heel in a double knot. She puffed air from between her lips and began to bounce in her seat. One, two, three bounces and she was back up, across the room again in a flash, and back in front of the desk. “I’m sorry, but I really need to go,” she said, her voice small and starting to range into a high pitch. I’ve been waiting for the test and now I need to go pretty bad. It won’t be much longer, right? Can I please go now? Please?” Michael did want to help her. “I’ll go check,” he said, and went into the back to hurry the technician along. She was just about ready, and asked for Michael to escort the patient. Just as he got back to his desk, he heard a soft, muttered “Oh man,” and found the woman bent nearly double, with her hands in her crotch. When she realized Michael was there, she jerked upright and put her hands on her hips, rubbing them up and down her thighs. She looked at Michael pleadingly. “They’re ready for you,” he said. “Follow me.” “Ohthankgod,” the woman said, talking fast. She practically ran through the door to the back when Michael opened it. · * * * Julia, the lab tech, saw a woman practically jogging toward her, her cheeks flushed, blonde bangs sticking to her forehead, bent over a little bit with her hands across her stomach. “Uh oh, another one,” she thought. “Hi, I’m Julia,” she said, stepping forward. The patient gazed at her intently as Julia handed over a sample cup and started her speech: wipe first, pee into the cup, finish into the toilet. The woman grabbed it and curtsied in front of her, sucking on her lip. “I’m so sorry, I just really have to go,” she said. “Happens all the time,” Julia told her, but the woman had already turned and practically flew into the little bathroom, the door of which slammed closed and quivered. Julia had to stand guard to time her patient, make sure she didn’t try to smuggle in someone else’s sample or try any other funny business, so she stood outside the door. Maybe this desperate girl scene was an act. Wouldn’t be the first time. But the door was thin, and Julie immediately knew there was nothing untoward happening here. Julia heard “Oh no, oh no,” followed by a few shuffling steps, and the unmistakable plopping sound of a butt collapsing onto a toilet seat, the impact a little louder than usual. There was a half sigh, half moan sound, and a roaring jet of pee in the toilet. After a few seconds, the sound disappeared, then returned a few seconds later. It was a waterfall. “Poor girl,” Julia thought. · * * * Jenna was barely listening to the lab tech go through her spiel, her embarrassment matched only by her pulsing, burning need to urinate immediately. She was about to go in her pants, right outside of a bathroom, while this poor worker yammered on. She needed to PEE. She was going to explode! Julia had no choice but to grab herself. “I’m so sorry, I just really have to go,” she whimpered, mortified, and grabbed the cup the second it seemed like she was allowed to do so. The race was on. Finally she could PEE! She streaked into the bathroom, little cup in one hand, her vagina tightly clenched with the other. She could feel every fold of her straining, engorged flesh through her thin yoga clothes. Jenna slammed the door shut and began to curtsy frantically as she hooked her free hand into her waistband. She could feel her pee burning and surging within her, and it moved in knife-hot slow motion right to the edge of her lips. She was staring at the toilet, losing control. “Oh no, oh no,” she whimpered, as the dam burst and she began to flood her panties. She got her pants down past her hips, then a little further, as urine rushed out of her tight, shaven pussy at an angle. Jenna threw herself across the room, pivoted, and collapsed onto the toilet. “UUggghhhh,” the relief! OH god, finally! OH! Her urine strained and surged out of her as her mouth went slack and she exhaled deeply. Her firm butt cheeks were squeezed tight on the toilet. The relief was heavenly. “Oh thank god,” she thought. Then she remembered the sample! She still had the cup in her left hand, and placed it under her surging stream. Urine frothed in the cup violently, hitting her hand and nearly filling it in moments. Jenna pulled it aside and kept flowing into the toilet bowl, thankful that she had avoided peeing her pants. Twenty seconds, 30 seconds, 40 seconds – her urine continued to surge, then flow, then trickle. Sighing again, Jenna sagged onto the toilet and forced out the last few drops. She took stock of the damp spot on her panties. She cleaned up as best as she could, and scolded herself for playing it so close. Thank god she had made it, though. · * * * Julia watched the woman emerge from the bathroom, holding her little cup, sweat on her top and with stooped, embarrassed shoulders, but still looking in her flushed face like she had just gotten the best news of her life. Total. Relief. The customer left as fast as she could. It was all in a day’s work.
  4. Thank you! That makes me feel like i did well and I'm glad you enjoyed it. Thanks for writing, and power to you! Also, you have a great user name.
  5. Thanks! wow, did not expect that to bear fruit.
  6. Just necroing this thread in case someone saved this and has it around... Thanks!
  7. I've got a new story for you all, my first in a long time!

     

    1. PrincessPeeach

      It was great!! So hot. 

  8. Disclaimer: FYI the character in this story is on crutches (obviously) from a sports injury. I don't mean to fetishize disability without consent, it's only because #1, it's a heavily embellished version of a true story I was told, and #2, it's a good storytelling way to delay someone and make them desperate. Plus I've never read it before. I hope no one minds and that you will enjoy! Sam banged the heel of her hand into her left thigh. She ran it down her leg, pressing hard, feeling her muscular thighs through her tight, light blue jeans. She had to pee badly, but here she was trapped on a bus that was rumbling and bouncing through traffic. She looked up toward the ceiling as she pounded her thigh again, and let out her breath in a long exhale. Take stock: she had to pee extremely bad, she was trapped on a bus, and worse, she could barely move her legs to help herself. Her right leg was in a semi-immobile foam brace from her shin to her upper thigh, thanks to a damaged ligament from her after-work soccer league. The leg was stretched out into the aisle and the crutches were leaning against the side of her seat. She couldn’t bounce her leg, and she couldn’t cross it over her good one to squeeze her crotch and gain some relief for her pounding bladder. Instead she just pressed her thighs together as best she could. Sam should have peed at work. She knew this, but she had had a busy day. It was a small company in a shared building and thanks to her condition, the small staff bathroom was two long shuffles down two different hallways and an elevator ride away. She didn’t have time, and her bus ride home was short, dropping her off practically right in front of her house – usually. She had forgotten about the annual street festival, the bus’s long, circuitous route around all the summer street vendors and arts and crafts tents. Then there was the traffic. Then there was the car accident. Long story short, the bus had barely moved for 40 minutes. Home wasn’t that far away. As Sam’s need grew from distracting to urgent to critical, she thought about – no, she outright fantasized about – getting off and making a run for home. But she couldn’t run, and the sidewalks in her city were a mess. Sam half grunted and half whimpered under her breath as she felt a twinge in her bladder. She squeezed her tense athlete’s muscles, pushed herself up on her firm, round butt cheeks, clutched her jean-covered thighs again, and survived the storm, held back the flood. For now. She was sweating like it was the second half, her shoulder-length hair starting to cling to her forehead and face. Sam needed to pee, maybe worse than she ever had since she was a little girl. Once she had peed her pants at the end of a roadtrip, held on – literally – for the whole ride only to lose control just through the door of her house, giving in to the relief and the warm spreading flow. This memory didn’t help things. Sam felt another twinge and she pressed into her crotch. It helped her weather another surge but this was a nearly full rush hour bus and she didn’t want to make a scene. But damn it, she was going to explode! The bus started to move again, and crawled past a few more streets. “Thank god,” Sam thought, scissoring her legs,“PLEASE. Go, go go. Oh my god.” She rocked forward and back a bit, squeezing her crotch hard, feeling her supple groin and its soft lace panties through the rough denim. She bit her lip, tasted the sweat there, and whimpered again. She was worried passengers would think she was having some sort of health crisis. She crunched her eyes shut tight and tried to shut out her pelvic pain and pressure. And opened them when the bus stopped again. “NO. No, no, no, oh my god, please,” she thought, frantic. She stomped her good foot, maybe a little too hard for discretion. “I’m actually going to piss my pants.” Traffic was clearly moving at a crawl but she realized: this was only about four streets from home. She could get off! She was an athlete and had had some practice with the crutches by now. With how slow traffic was, even she could outrun the bus at this point. Her urethra felt hot, like she was being poked with a needle, and her belly was noticeably full of all the liquid she was holding back. She thought in horror about what it would be like to pour her overfull bladder out onto this seat, how her desperate muscles would collapse so close to home, and her warm piss would pool under her ass and run into the aisle. How horrifying. To prevent that, it was now or never. Sam pushed through the heel of her good leg, grabbed the seat in front of her and pulled herself up. Standing awkwardly in the small space, the first thing she did was squeeze her crotch again, as her need had actually somehow gotten WORSE. “Oh my god.” She finally said it out loud. She grabbed her crutches and swung down the aisle toward the back door of the bus, not saying anything to the driver, not being able to spare attention for anything other than moving her arms and legs and squeezing her pelvic muscles for all she was worth. The driver saw her and opened the door. Now the dance: stand on the good leg, two crutches on the ground – pop! The shock of the crutches on the ground, resounding up her arms and through her body, jolted her bladder and she whimpered again. She swung her weight onto the crutches and was free, moving immediately, faster than anyone would have guessed a woman on crutches could go. Weight on the good leg, swing the crutches, POW, DON’T PEE, swing through, repeat. Bathroom. Bathroom. BATHROOM. NOW! In this manner three streets passed by for Sam in a blur. Then she had to wait at a crosswalk. “Come on, come on, come on,” she said under her breath. “I’m gonna peeee. Oh man, oh please.” She curtsied on her left leg several times, felt a wave of pressure building up deep somewhere behind and below her belly button, felt a rush of warmth moving in her groin. “Eh-AH.” She gave a breathy, groaning whimper, and moved her useless, straightened right leg the few inches across her crotch that her brace allowed. Oh how she wanted to cross her legs. God how she needed to pee. On her last curtsy, Sam deftly undid the button of her jeans. It barely helped. Oh how she wanted to keep going, tug down the zipper, pull jeans and panties down over her firm butt that was straining the material so hard. The pee would gush from under her short trimmed pubic hair like a hose… But not yet. Walk signal. GO. Sam crutched for all she was worth and her house was in sight now. Three stairs up the porch. POP the crutches onto the stair, DON’T PEE, swing through with your arms, land, repeat. She whimpered. Her tanktop was damp across her chest. On the second stair Sam had to stop and grab her crotch again. She could swear she was going to start peeing any moment. She prayed her roommates weren’t home. “Oh I have to pee, oh my god please.” Sam realized she was saying it out loud. She was going to wet her pants. Move, NOW. She closed the distance to the front door like an Olympian, then immediately began to curtsy as she dug in her purse for her key. “Come on, come on, come on,” she hissed. Her bladder was on fire. She could barely wait another moment. Her hands closed around her keys. She tried to keep her crutches tight under her armpits so she wouldn’t lose them while she bent nearly in half in front of the door, frantically stabbing the key around the lock until it finally fit. She turned it and the door swung open, nearly spilling her into the apartment. If she fell at that point she would have simply flooded herself, glorious ass in the air with piss pounding out of her. Instead she made it two hobbling steps and then the leak, just like when she was a girl. “No, NO,” she said, and forced her left hand down into the tight space behind the bulging button in the crotch of her jeans. Her panties were wet, both from sweat and from pee. “Mmm, mmm, MMM, Stop stopstopstopstop,” she moaned, her words running together. She twisted as much as her condition allowed. Through supreme effort, and a hot pain deep in her body from her vagina up into her belly, Sam stopped the flood. Just barely. “Move,” she thought. Oh, now. As usual, the popping crutching routine jolted her bladder, but it hardly felt any different over the constant shrieking pressure. She made it down the hallway and into the bathroom, not even able to close the door behind her. The toilet seat was open and the lid down – thank god she lived with girls – the toilet in its little alcove right next to the sink. Sam stood there, staring down into her toilet bowl, and began wetting her pants. She felt an almost penetrative force between her legs as her piss exploded. It even made a sound against the denim of her jeans for a moment that could be heard over Sam’s panting. A little river instantly ran down the inside of both her legs. But Sam was a fighter. She threw her crutches away, pivoted on her good heel and fell hard onto the toilet and began frantically tearing at her zipper. Her purse was still around her and it swung half way up her back in the commotion. Sam gave a groan that was half whine, half growl as she put all her weight through her good left foot and lifted her now damp ass off the seat. The muscle tension stopped her flow and Sam tugged at the waist of her jeans with both hands. The waist band did not give up easily, only barely rounding the bountiful curves of her tight, straining butt cheeks. Sam thrashed back and forth on the toilet seat, breathing sharply out of her mouth as she got her jeans down by brute force. A trickle began when they were barely clear of her soaking puss. She relaxed and let it happen. Her urine shot out of her dripping, newly naked pussy, further spraying into the interior of her jeans and underwear. The fight was just over. Sam decided to compromise with her fate and count this as a victory. “Ah- AhhhhhmyGOD, OOOhhhh.” She moaned. She sighed. She panted. Her urine raced out of her. After a moment she was able to pull the damp mess of her jeans and panties down her upper thighs to where they bunched around the leg brace. The sound of Sam’s relief changed from a pattering to a more familiar splash. It sounded like rapids or a waterfall, and she heard a hissing in her groin. Sam fully relaxed, slumping on the toilet and letting her arms and legs fall slack. The pee just kept coming, and she sighed. After a moment she became aware that she was facing directly out the bathroom door into the hall but fortunately she was alone. It was 40 seconds before her pee began to slacken off and she leaned forward, chin in her hands, and sighed like she had just came. Another sigh came from her with the last few splatters. “Oh my god, she said, then a high feminine sigh from deep within. Time to clean up this mess.
  9. Thank you, but those mediafire links aren't working (anyone else or just me?) WOuld you consider uploading these right to our site? Thanks!
  10. Gee thanks! No promises that it'll be soon but I really should. Next time I get in the mood
  11. Too bad about all the men but thanks! Also, I think the car looks OK. Pretty European. The mileage is pretty nice!
  12. New story? Hooray! I think if you got the authors' permission they would be down. Cheers and thanks for the content! p.s., I wrote a few stories long ago that you might like. I've always meant to do more. I have a few ideas.
  13. Oh wow, maybe you should post those! You're one of my favorite writers on here and it would be great to see more content from you like that.
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