Jimmy Lang 361 Posted July 10, 2020 Popular Post Share Posted July 10, 2020 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. Mrgala21, Girlwhowaited, LilMiss and 7 others 9 1 Quote Link to comment
Melificentfan 1,215 Posted July 11, 2020 ✨ Legendary Member Share Posted July 11, 2020 That was a fantasmic story and a very enjoyable read ~lisnikko~ 1 Quote Link to comment
pguy69 497 Posted July 11, 2020 Share Posted July 11, 2020 Great work. Absolutely love the concept. Absolute desperation, can't cross her legs, can't hurry anywhere, and can't even pop a squat as a last resort! Quote Link to comment
Girlwhowaited 41 Posted July 25, 2020 Share Posted July 25, 2020 I'm mostly a lurker, but I have to comment on this. I'm disabled. I have to rely mostly on my crutches and wheelchair when I leave the house. At the moment, I can walk short distances without aids, but only at home. This story was perfectly written. It didn't come across at all like you were fetishizing disability. You portrayed accurately the difficulties presented with limited mobility and the inaccessibility of things like sidewalks, and houses with stairs. Excellent representation. Disabled people can also have fetishes and explore sexual behavior. This is probably one of the best stories I have written because it shows a body similar to mine, and more of that is needed. Kudos to you. Thank you for representing the disabled community. wether and pguy69 2 Quote Link to comment
Jimmy Lang 361 Posted July 28, 2020 Author Share Posted July 28, 2020 On 7/25/2020 at 10:54 PM, Girlwhowaited said: I'm mostly a lurker, but I have to comment on this. I'm disabled. I have to rely mostly on my crutches and wheelchair when I leave the house. At the moment, I can walk short distances without aids, but only at home. This story was perfectly written. It didn't come across at all like you were fetishizing disability. You portrayed accurately the difficulties presented with limited mobility and the inaccessibility of things like sidewalks, and houses with stairs. Excellent representation. Disabled people can also have fetishes and explore sexual behavior. This is probably one of the best stories I have written because it shows a body similar to mine, and more of that is needed. Kudos to you. Thank you for representing the disabled community. 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. Quote Link to comment
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