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female Jane's Discomfort, Dilemma and Despair - the "Classics"


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This is a story written long long ago, at a time far, far away... a continuation of my "Classics" series where I go back ~20 years or so and repost some of the "classics" from sites no long with us, such as Thomas' Water Resources, etc...  The stories are also attached in plaintext form if that would be helpful to anyone. If anyone has requests, please let me know. Female desperation, wetting, accidents are my thing so all stories will likely be along such lines.

I'll be posting this one in 3 parts through the week... (let me know if that is fun or just torture) and I'm going to try to jazz it up a bit with italics, bold perhaps, we'll see if it helps.  I've also fixed minor spelling and some typos.

Today we'll be glimpsing a real-life relationship John had with Jane.  So for your reading pleasure... with all credit due to the original author known only as John, I present:

---

1 - Jane's Discomfort
by John

Like you I have always been excited at the thought of a girl dying to go to the loo. Though I fantasized about this from my teens and even earlier, it's not something I really witnessed in earnest until I was about 18. Then one or two sightings - a girl waiting for the toilet at a party, another fidgeting on an underground station, and one or two others helped keep my interest alive and gave me an appetite for more. But for the most part I was dependent on fantasy and secret story writing.

Then when I was 19 or 20 my fantasy became reality. I was living in a bedsitter in London and invited my first long term girl friend back to my place for the evening. It was all very innocent - things were different in the early 1960s. We had been going out for about a fortnight, mostly meeting after work for a coffee or occasional evening at the pictures. Now in my bedsitter we had something to eat and drink and then amused ourselves with a board game; I was teaching her how to play chess.

Anyway, as the evening drew on I began to realize that Jane was fidgeting about. At first I could hardly believe it but soon realized it was true. After a couple of mugs of tea Jane now needed to go to the toilet but was too shy to ask where it was. She shifted backwards and forwards, constantly changing her position, now sitting on the edge of the chair, sometimes sitting on her hands, then leaning forward and crossing her legs. Luckily the coffee table we were playing at was quite a low one so I could watch every fidget.

Then she stood up and walked across the room to get her handbag, ostensibly to get a hankie, but I couldn't help notice her glancing at the door. She hadn't been to my flat before so would have to ask where the toilet was. Instinct told me to keep talking; I've no idea what I talked about but anyway she didn't feel able to interrupt and had no option but to return to the chess board and sit down again. We carried on with our game of chess - but for both of us our concentration was elsewhere!

We played for another 15 or 20 minutes and my excitement rose as she got more and more uncomfortable, her thighs moving restlessly, her conversation more and more stilted; I realized now that she really was dying for a pee but to embarrassed to ask to 'leave the table' during the game. I was quite a shy person myself and had been in that situation myself more than once so knew just what she was going through, and what thoughts must have been going through her head. A couple of times I saw Jane looking towards the door as if trying to pluck up courage to 'ask'.

Once, seeing the position on the chess board as desperate as her own, she said "I give in" but cruelly I insisted on continuing the game a little longer. My view was made the more erotic on a couple of occasions when her fidgeting caused her skirt to rise up, revealing the frilly flounces of her petticoat and, briefly, the dark part at the top of her stockings. Of course, this gave her another excuse to change position, pushing her skirt hem modestly over her knees, and sitting once again on the edge of the chair.

But at last our short game came to an end and she quickly stood up. Anticipating her next move I seized her hand, drew her towards me and pulled her down onto my knee. She responded to my kisses but all the time I could feel her moving anxiously up and down, quite unable to sit still for a moment. She was clearly anxious to break away and eventually got up to go for her handbag once again. Then, with a determined calmness, came the question that both of us - me with my cruelty, she with her shyness - had been putting off.

"Where's the Ladies' room?" she asked.

When she came back she was altogether calmer and it was almost time for me to see her to the station. That night I played over every nuance of her dilemma in my mind - and eagerly awaited our next date, especially her next visit to my flat. Much as I liked Jane, uppermost in mind was the inevitable question:

Will she get desperate again?

But I'd have to wait for that - and so will you!

---

From original source material at:
https://web.archive.org/web/20010429055059/http://www.tgc.co.uk/waters/text/jane01.htm

janes_discomfort.md

Edited by MrMakeherWait (see edit history)
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2. Jane's Dilemma
by John

After witnessing Jane's anxiety to go to the loo the first time she came back to my bedsitter, and her shyness about asking to 'leave the room', I could scarcely wait for her next visit. Of course, I had quite fallen in love with her, so it was by no means my only reason for wanting to see her - but it was certainly a material factor, and one I couldn't help thinking about.

On her next visit there simply wasn't time for the tea to take effect; but I soon found that on Saturdays, when she came for three or four hours, there were real pleasures in store. She was an attractive girl of 19 or 20, intelligent and always well dressed, so I don't know why she was so shy about going to the loo, but shy she most definitely was. She had a long journey home at the end of the evening so would always visit the toilet before leaving, but clearly found it difficult to ask at other times, especially if it meant interrupting something.

I suspect, too, that for the shy person there is a dreadful paradox: the more desperate you are, the more difficult it is to ask. I soon realized that if I plied her with cups of tea and then kept her occupied with a game or some music or simply a cuddle, then there was a good chance I would see her fidgeting or shifting about on her seat before the night was out.

One Saturday some 3 or 4 weeks later we spent an afternoon visiting an art gallery before returning home. She'd been to the Ladies at the gallery but had had a drink after that, and a couple of mugs of tea when we got to my flat. We sat for a while on the side of my bed looking at the art catalogue I had bought and discussing the paintings. I remember Jane was wearing a blue dress with a full skirt, with its frills and flounces always a lovely thing to explore - which I soon began to do. We were soon cuddling up to one another with our feet on the bed.

Though the relationship seems quite innocent in retrospect, it had progressed enough for me to undo one or two of her buttons, slip a hand inside the bodice of her dress and caress her breasts. After a while I put a hand on her knee, then under her skirt. I had only been able to do this for a few days and it was marvelous to reach the cool softness of her legs above her stocking tops, to run my fingers along her suspenders. We kissed and murmured sweet nothings to each other for a while but when my hand next strayed beneath her skirt I received an extra frisson of excitement, for her legs were gently moving about. There was an hour or more before we need think about getting ready to go and already, I was sure of it, she wanted to go to the toilet.

Over the next half hour she gradually got more and more fidgety. With my hand under her skirt I could feel her muscles tightening and contracting as she tried to hold back the urge, squeezing her thighs together, her legs gently moving up and down. She was still responding to my kisses and caresses but I could sense she was shifting about with greater urgency, increasingly unable to keep still. Then she changed position, sitting up on the bed, modestly holding her skirt over her knees. "It must soon be time to get ready, mustn't it?" she asked.

"We don't need to get up till nine", I replied, "We've got another half hour". I silenced any objections by kissing her and undoing another button on her dress but, though she responded with a kiss she was soon changing her position again, this time kneeling up on the bed. I reached up to touch her bosom, then gently drew her down beside me again, but soon she was again half sitting, and soon after that she was kneeling beside me, then sitting with her legs drawn back, and though she made play that this was all part of the lovemaking so that she could smile down at me, her laughter had got more forced and the rocking of her buttocks owed more to discomfort than fun.

Over the next ten minutes she must have changed her position a dozen times, at one point sitting on the side of the bed, on the pretence of getting a hankie from her handbag. A couple of times I noticed her biting her lip and glancing balefully at the door, but each time I took her hand and brought her back down onto the bed for a cuddle, surreptitiously drawing her skirt and petticoats up a few inches for a glance at those beautiful, frantically fidgeting legs.

But Jane was almost past the fidgeting stage, for she was now, almost jerkily, moving from one position to another, one moment lying beside me, then sitting with her legs stretched out, then with her legs tucked in, then kneeling.... When she knelt up she would bend and kiss me, as if to give a reason for the move, but soon there would be a nervous glance at the door and, if I caught her eye, a lame excuse - "I was just wondering if the door was locked" or "I was just looking to see what the time was". It was a quarter to nine - I'm sure both of us knew the time to the minute - and I began to wonder whether she would hold out. My feelings were torn - I loved her and didn't want her humiliated, but I wanted to enjoy this as long as possible. So I did something really rotten:

I took her dress off.

Most of the buttons were already undone but I now unfastened the buckle of her belt and began to pull the dress off her shoulders. "There isn't time" she protested. "I just want to see you without it" I replied, and ruefully she helped me take it off. Jane looked so pretty in her bra and petticoat - but I also knew it would be so much more difficult for her to leave the room (for the toilet was down the corridor past the kitchen and two other bedsitters). Surely I could have another ten minutes to enjoy her plight.

Once more I drew her down beside me, caressed her naked skin, slid a hand round to her clenched buttocks, but when I slipped my hand under her petticoat she quickly knelt up again. Then she sat down, her legs tucked behind her, rocking backwards and forwards, and though she let me reach forward and touch her breasts, she moved away again the moment I tried to explore her legs. Once more she knelt up, looking round the room, then swung round and sat on the edge of the bed, hunched forward, her hands behind her knees, squirming up and down. I suddenly felt sorry for her, for I knew - and the poor girl must have known that I knew - that she was absolutely frantic for a pee.

But at last she found an escape line. "Hadn't you better draw the curtains?" she said. There was no denying the logic so I got up to draw them and when I turned round again Jane had her dress in her hands. "What are you doing?" I asked. "I just want to go to the Ladies for a minute", she said. "I won't be long." Still sitting on the bed she managed to pull the dress over her head, stood to let the skirt fall into place, contrived to fasten one or two of the buttons, and fled the room as fast as her modesty would let her.

She was gone for two or three minutes and when she returned it was almost time to start getting ready to go home. As we were in good time we had a cup of tea and before leaving the house she went to the loo again. "Again!" I joked and she laughed. The ice was broken and from that time visits to the toilet became a little private joke between us. She was never again quite so shy; but there were still many good moments ahead.

---

https://web.archive.org/web/20010429055608/http://www.tgc.co.uk/waters/text/jane02.htm

janes_dilemma.md

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25 minutes ago, MrMakeherWait said:

I don't know why she was so shy about going to the loo, but shy she most definitely was. She had a long journey home at the end of the evening so would always visit the toilet before leaving, but clearly found it difficult to ask at other times, especially if it meant interrupting something.

I suspect, too, that for the shy person there is a dreadful paradox: the more desperate you are, the more difficult it is to ask. 

Oh my gawd, this is me, absolutely lolol.

I loved this chapter even more than the first😂😊

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18 hours ago, MrMakeherWait said:

I'm sure we'd all love to hear more about that sometime. 🙂

Hahaha it’s the worst when I’m at someone else’s house. If we’re in public I’m slightly better, but if I’m at someone’s house and I have to not only find an opening in conversation AND ask where the bathroom is, or even say I’m going to use it....let’s just say I’ll be absolutely squirming by the point I’m able to get it together to do that. 

And as it says in the story, the more desperate I am, the inexorably harder it gets....honestly, she might as well be me. I hate it when people know I need the bathroom that badly. 

Which is I guess why I find this so hot, because it’s so relatable, but made all the hotter by the fact that her boyfriend is so ridiculously turned in by it that he can’t help exploiting her shyness....I mean she could go at any point, but she just can’t bring herself to  😍

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Hehehe.....

i guess because it’s less intimate in a public place.  And I don’t really feel as much like I need to ‘ask’, but in someone’s house it’s more polite to ask, even if you already know where the toilet is, it feels odd to just stand up and go without ‘asking’ or at least saying something along those lines.

And that’s where I always get stuck....running over the possible lines in my mind, trying to make one of them come out before I lose it😂

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1 minute ago, PrincessPeeach said:

And that’s where I always get stuck....running over the possible lines in my mind, trying to make one of them come out before I lose it😂

But have you really lost it before or it in any of those situations or it just felt that bad?

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The scenario of a desperate girl finding it harder and harder to hold it as well as hide her need, perhaps even while the narrator attempts to delay her further, is my absolute favorite story scenario. This is an incredible find for me. Thank you so much for bringing this story back to life. I could read stories with this scenario forever.

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3 - Jane's Despair
by John

Well, time passed. Though Jane remained quite shy about it, she felt able to make little jokes about going to the toilet. She also soon realized that it turned me on if she needed the loo and when we were alone together she would often delay going until she was fidgeting about, sometimes adding to my pleasure with whispered comments such as "I'm dying to spend a penny" or "Ooooh! I do want to go to the Little Girls' Room".

One evening a month or two later Jane was again back at my flat and, things having progressed a little, we were lying in bed after a heavy petting session. She was sitting up in bed smoking a cigarette and rather aimlessly putting on her face. She had been shifting up and down for some time and had grown very quiet when suddenly, after an especially violent fidget, she grimaced and said, "I want to go to the toilet ever so badly". From her worried tone I knew she had left it longer than usual and it was with added excitement that I reached under the bed-sheets to touch her legs, now moving restlessly about.

None too soon (from her point of view) she finished her make-up and after only the most cursory kiss and cuddle she got out of bed, reached for her clothes and quickly had to sit down on the edge of the bed. She sat there bouncing up and down as she fastened her suspender belt, stood up briefly to pull on her panties, then straightway had to sit down again. Plaintively she looked at me.

"Can I just put my skirt and blouse on and finish dressing when I've been to the Ladies? I'm absolutely desperate."  Somehow I persuaded her she should get dressed first before going down the corridor.

"All right", she gasped, "you'd better pass me my stockings".

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, rocking to and fro, her hands under her thighs and and as I moved over the room to fetch her nylons I saw her shove one hand between her legs, something I'd never seen her do before. She removed the hand when she saw me watching and was squirming about, her knees knocking together, when I handed her the stockings.

"I'm only going to fasten one suspender on each", she said, starting to pull on the stockings. She couldn't stand still and kept having to sit down - in fact it took her much longer than usual to fasten her stockings - and at one stage she had to let go of the suspender clip to shove a hand between her legs again, furtively holding herself as she rocked backwards and forwards.

"Can you fasten my bra for me?" she asked - but it was quite difficult to help, she was fidgeting about so much.

"Sit still," I said.

"I can't" she replied. "I'm desperate."

Her blouse was on another chair and she walked feverishly up and down while putting it on, getting some of the buttons muddled up in the process. Almost running on the spot, she turned away from me in embarrassment, then hurriedly sat down again, now openly holding herself. I handed her her petticoat.

"No, that'll have to wait", she gasped. "I'm, sorry, I'll just put my skirt on. I just have to get to the toilet."

But even putting her skirt on was difficult and she had to sit down a couple of times while doing so. Still fastening the zip of her skirt she rushed to the door, only to find it locked! With her concentration elsewhere I'd surreptitiously taken the key out of the door and put it on the table.

"Don't play games, John," she cried, real concern in her voice, hopping frantically from one foot to the other.

Relenting, I unlocked the door, and she fled; a few seconds later I heard the slam of the lavatory door. She was gone quite a while and when she returned was flushed, ruefully grinning. She hitched up her skirt and pulled on her waist slip, tidied up her make up and was soon ready to go. We embraced for a minute or two and I fondled her bottom. She didn't seem so keen as I slipped a hand under skirt, saying "we need to get to the station soon" and as my fingers reached above her stocking tops I realized why.  Her pants were wet through.

"Darling," I gasped, "Your knickers are all damp."

She went scarlet with embarrassment and tried to break away from me. I managed to keep my hand up her skirt a moment longer. "Jane - you've wet yourself", I exclaimed, almost in disbelief. Then she did break away from my embrace, quietly gathered her things together and got ready to leave. She wasn't angry - we held hands all the way to the station - but steadfastly refused to talk about her accident. It wasn't until the next week that I was able to get her to talk about it.

"I just about got to the toilet", she said. "Then as I was closing the door it sort of happened - I just couldn't get my knickers down in time".

"Is that the most desperate you've ever been?" I asked, trying to pump dark secrets out of her.

"No I think I've been worse than that," she murmured. And after a little persuasion she went on to tell me of walking home from a party with three girl friends when she was about 16. "I'd been dying for a wee since leaving my friend's place and then we stopped for a cigarette and a laugh in a churchyard. I was just desperate and - I couldn't hold on. It's lucky it was dark."

We were holding hands, intimate in our talk, in her shy disclosure. "Shall I tell you the worst time of all?" she asked. I put my arm round her while she paused, perhaps summoning up the courage to tell me the secret: "Do you remember the first time we went out together. When we went to the pictures and then had a drink and then a cuddle in the park. Then we had to walk across town to the bus station for your bus home".

"You were desperate then?" I asked.

She laughed nervously. "I wanted to go when we left the cinema but didn't like to ask - there was something about you that made me shy. Then we had a drink and by the time we were cuddling in the park I was really dying to go. Then the toilets in the town centre were closed - I'd been banking on them - and we still had a fifteen minute walk to the bus station. By the time we got there I was almost beside myself. I thought we'd never get there. Then I had to hang around while you looked at the timetable. Honestly, I thought I was going to wet my pants. I don't know what I'd have done if the bus station Ladies had been closed. I couldn't have waited." She put her head shyly on my shoulder, then looked up at me. "Could you not tell?"

I shook my head, for I'd never even noticed. I suppose I'd been as shy as Jane. Anyway, I knew that I was having my reward, and the feel of that warm, soaking wet gusset was fresh in my mind. It has remained with me all these years.

---

https://web.archive.org/web/20010709052251/http://www.tgc.co.uk/waters/text/jane03.htm

janes_despair.md

I edited the last one a bit more to make the dialog a bit easier to follow.  Let me know if it makes it easier to stay focused on the conversation.

Edited by MrMakeherWait (see edit history)
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Mmmm part 3 was definitely the best! I don’t know if the edits made it easier to follow or not, but it certainly emphasized almost all the best parts😁

thanks for posting these, I’ve never been to the original website and I totally would have missed out on some great stuff! 

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Thanks so much for posting this so much these classics are being back so many happy memories and getting to enjoy old stories as new. I don’t recall this one though yet absolutely loved it.

 

I used to live that site and the desperation stories. I don’t know if it were less gratuitous element or the realism but while there are so many talented amazing writers now there is something so much more thrilling for me in those earlier stories that just isn’t captured now and perhaps the volume of stories means I have not read anything as exciting in many many years. 
 

so my vote is definitely keep these classics coming... and if you have any good recommendations for similar more recent content then I would definitely be thrilled to check it out 

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