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Miss Niagara Falls


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Credits go to https://go2thebathroom.com/2016/01/25/miss-niagara-falls/

My name is Tanya, I am a 20-year-old afro-american girl, not very dark, but with a brownish skin colour, black hair and a good figure, which makes me look very attractive according to many others.

Last year I was in Norway, as an exchange student, and that is where this rather embarrassing story took place.

 

I lived in a student corridor in a student home in a suburb a bit outside the centre of Oslo. There, I made many new friends, and one Friday evening in the summer some of them took me into central Oslo to a pub to have some beer. It was a couple of girls and two guys of about the same age as me, or slightly older. We had a nice time at the pub, drinking beer and chatting about many things, among others differences between life in Norway and the U.S.. I told them I could show them around where I live in the U.S. if they came there, and since I am from Buffalo, I promised to show them the Niagara Falls.

When we were about to leave the pub and go home, I thought I better go to the restroom before leaving, considering the beers I had been drinking and the long way home. The pub was located about 15 minutes walk from the closest subway station, from where it was a 20 minute ride (at least) to the end station, where we had to get off and take a bus for another 30 minutes before reaching home. However, there was a long line outside the ladies restroom, and the others were about to leave, so I did not want to keep them waiting and decided to skip the restroom visit.

This I was soon to regret. I was not so used to drinking beer, and to the strong effect it would have on my bladder, but I could soon sense the effect as we were walking back towards the subway. I regretted not having gone to the pub’s toilet, and kept looking for some other place, a pub, a restaurant or a night-open shop, where I could sneak in and borrow a toilet, but everything seemed closed at this late hour.

As we reached the subway and came down on the platform, my bladder already felt quite full. Luckily, there was a bench where we could sit down and wait for the train, and this took away some of the pressure from the bladder. Unfortunately, we had to wait for a long time, almost 20 minutes, for the next train. Trains in the evening did not run that frequently, and this was the last night train, filled with people more or less drunk on their way home from pubs and parties, which meant extra troubles and delays for the train. When it finally arrived, my bladder was filled almost to the limit, and so was the train, leaving only standing space for us on the train.

This was the worst subway ride in my life. I was standing in the closely packed train, desperately trying to control my bladder, as the train was shaking and jerking. A couple of times, the train stopped inside the tunnel, as somebody had fiddled with the door mechanism, and I got desperately nervous that we would get stuck forever, making me almost wet my pants on the spot out of nervosity. My need to pee got even stronger, as people was pressing me from each side. Several times I was considering getting off at the next station to find a place to pee, but I did not want to abandon my friends, or drag them with me out of the train, and then having trouble to get home since this was the last train.

So somehow I managed to hold myself all the way to the end station, where everybody got out. But I knew I could not make it through the bus ride home, I had to pee somewhere as soon as we got out of the station. I barely could manage the walk across the platform and had to press my hand in between my legs as we were going up the escalator, or I would start to wet my pants. My bladder felt as it was going to burst by now.

The subway station was located next to a shopping center which surely would have some public toilet, but now in the middle of night the shopping center was closed. As we got up, I told my friends that I desperately needed to go to a toilet, before I could get on the bus. Apparently, the only option was a urinal on the other side of the bus station. The two guys said they also needed to go, and offered to take me there.

I had no choice but follow after them, although walking was not easy in my desperate state. One of the guys was already in, and the other waiting outside, as I reached the urinal, a tiny one-man construction surrounded by bushes on the back of the bus station. It was obviously designed for men, not for women, and I had seriously considered going into the bushes next to it instead, had not the two guys been so close-by. As the first guy came out, the second guy was offering me to go ahead of him, possibly noticing my desperate state. But I was shy about using the urinal with him waiting outside, and shy about showing how desperate I was, and said I could wait.

But I could hardly wait anymore. Standing outside and listening to him peeing forced me to cross my legs and bend forwards, to stop me from peeing in my pants on the spot. Still as I squeezed and pressed my pee hole, I could feel a few squirts coming out and my underpants getting wet. However, I somehow managed to hold the pee flood back until it was my turn at the urinal.

I quickly got in and unbuttoned my jeans. The urinal consisted of a metallic bowl in the floor, and some bars to stand on. The door could not be locked from inside, and had an opening both at the top and the floor, leaving spectators quite a good view inside. I turned myself facing the door (opposite to how the guys were standing), hastily pulled down my pants and underpants, and squatted with my bottom over the bowl in the floor. Then I released the flood.

It appeared that the two guys, rather than walking back to the two other girls at the bus stop, kept waiting for me just a few meters away from the urinal. From their position, I realized when it was already too late, they got a very good view under the door (which left a 3-4 dm gap next to the ground) into the urinal and on to my private parts, as these were releasing the flood. I could hear them giggling and laughing. Since the pressure in the bladder was so big, the pee did not go straight down, but rather made a fountain-like jet out in front of me, towards the door, becoming even more visible from outside. Much of the pee did not flow into the bowl behind me, where it was supposed to go (and would go for all men), but rather onto the floor in front of me and even out of the urinal onto the pavement outside of it.

Then I could hear one of them shouting to me:

“Hey Tanya, you do not need to bring us to the U.S. to show us the Niagara Falls!!”.

This is how I became known by some of the guys in Norway with the somewhat embarrassing nickname Miss Niagara Falls.

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