Apan 572 Posted April 23, 2022 Popular Post Share Posted April 23, 2022 (edited) This is a semi-true story that took place last year. It started off as just another report but along the way I decided that a bit of enhancement won't hurt if it helps the storytelling. For that reason I chose to post it as fiction rather than a true experience, something which I probably wouldn't have done just a few years ago. I'll leave it up to you decide which parts actually happened and which are filled-in blanks or enhancements. --- I don't remember if we had reached september yet but it was around that time of the year, late summer, still warm outside even during evenings. For an omo affiniado it would have been a no-brainer to get it out there immediately as you will see, but something held me back, and still does to some degree. That something is the fact that this is the only significant desperation experience I've ever encountered involving a friend which turned out to have quite a bit of emotional impact on me. She is in her 30's but she could easily pass for being 10 years younger. Not exactly pretty to my eyes, but not bad-looking either. Slightly chubby, let's say curvy, and rather short with long brown curly hair. I have no romantic interest in her whatsoever which makes it easy being good friends with her, especially since we share some musical interests. She's very self-confident albeit reserved but easy-going amongst known people. All in all, a very good friend who just happens to be female. That is what bothers me quite a bit about what ensued this late summer evening. I need so set up a bit of context here for it all to make sense. I live in an flat a couple of kilometers away from the city centre, about 10 minutes walk. I'm also a big vintage car enthusiast which in relation to my dwelling situation makes indulging in my hobby a bit of a logistical chore. I have solved this by renting a parking garage space here in town, as well as owning a workshop outside of town. Whatever car I'm driving at the moment is parked in the garage in town, located a couple of blocks away from my flat, about a five minute walk. The workshop on the other hand is located about 10 kilometers out of town, out in the countryside. On the evening in question, my friend was wearing a very 70's and very orange-brown-beige corduroy jumpsuit (not tri-coloured, just a very hard-to-describe nuance), buttoned up at the front with an equally 70's shirt collar, two or three buttons undone at the neck. In all honesty, as much as I love vintage clothing as well as vintage cars, I have to admit that this particular kindergarten-style jumpsuit looks rather dorky, even for her. But it does deserve a bit of prologue as well. For some reason, she really likes this particular suit, even if it apparently makes toilet visits a bit of a struggle. I recall her once telling me and another friend about that very issue with that very suit in a handful of situations, one of which took place in one of the city parks where she was caught short. As she would have to virtually strip out of the suit in order to take a long-overdue piss she apparently held on until the last moment before resigning and convinced a friend to let her use his bathroom, as he happened to live nearby. This was way before this particular evening though, and for all the bathroom-related hardship the suit brought upon her, you'd think that she would be cautious about getting herself into situations with no obvious conveniences nearby, especially bearing in mind that she also was a big beer-drinking enthusiast. You can already sense how suspiciosly specific the setup is getting here. Now on the evening in question, we had planned for a visit at a friend's place out in the woods just outside town, maybe 15 minutes drive, including some traffic. It was decided that I was to pick her and another friend up on the town and then drive us all out to the cottage. She and the other friend were at one of the pubs, and as I parked outside to wait for them I saw them noticing me and rose from the table and got out. Apparently, the other friend had somewhere else to be for the rest of the night (he's not a good planner, it has to be said) so it ended up being just me and her going to the cottage. As we arrived at the cottage it was all dark and empty. Apparently he had forgotten about our planned visit and was not there right then. As an improvised backup plan for the night, we decided that a few beers (additional beers on her part) back in town would do, but I also suggested a brief drive to and from the workshop as she does have an interest in old cars as well and would probably want to take a peek at what I had parked out there. She did, and we drove off and headed out of town towards the countryside where the workshop is. I figured it would add about an hour to the proceedings before we would settle down at the pub afterwards. I still hadn't noticed any desperation, neither was I on the lookout for any so she might just as well have moved about in the car seat without me noticing. Little did I know what manner of catastrophe was building up beneath that corduroy jumpsuit... About 15-20 minutes later we arrived at the workshop (the final part is all gravel roads, meaning you can't drive very fast) and I opened up the door to show off our playroom featuring some of my other cars and tons of tools in various stages of workability. I recall having some objective reason to get there, something along the lines of fetching or fixing something, although I'll be damned if I remember what. Whatever it was, I announced it and that's when she said, with not an insignificant amount of hesitation: "...I really really have to pee..." To which I responded that it will only take a moment and that we would drive back right away. Honest to god, I did not have any intent on delaying her or trying to create a perfect storm of desperation or anything. Quite the opposite, I did mean to have us back in town as soon as possible upon suddenly learning about her urge. "I really have to go, I will just go around the corner before we leave" was her reply to that. Now, our workshop is indeed a man's world with all that it encompasses. There is no plumbing or running water there and by extension, no facilities. Whenever you need to do your number ones, you do it out the back against the wall, and if you need to number two, well, you're screwed. The only semblance of privacy you might enjoy is provided by either darkness or the relative remoteness of the place, provided none of the nearby land-owners will pass by. This has never been an issue for neither me nor any of my male friends whenever we are messing around in the workshop so there has never been any reason for us to even consider engineering a solution. After all, if there is no problem there is no need for any solution. Anyway, she scurried out of the workshop and round the back to do her business. Meanwhile I did whatever it was that I did and then went out to the car and waited for her. It took a few minutes of waiting but eventually she came back and we got in the car and drove off back to the town. I casually asked if it went well to which she replied, with a surprisingly anxious tone in her voice: "No... it's really complicated in this suit. Could we please hurry back??" Apparently it was too much of a hassle getting out of the suit in the great wide open. Not too surprising; like I said, short of being able to simply whip out your willy and do your business against the wall in a matter of seconds, you're screwed out there, especially if you're a girl and ESPECIALLY if you're trapped in a button-up jumpsuit on top of that. What was surprising was the fact that she hadn't been more open about her desperation up until then. She was usually never that modest about such matters and had no problem announcing her need for a toilet, so what kept her quiet about it this one time I will never know. While driving back towards the city I noticed her fidgeting around in the passenger seat, her knees grinding up and down against each other while she sat on her hands in a tense posture. She obviously didn't want to let on just how desperate she had become by now. I casually asked if she hadn't gone before leaving the pub and apparently she had intended to as she hadn't been to the toilet even once since arriving at the pub almost two hours prior! Add to that a few beers and you can probably imagine how dire her plight even by that time. When I got to the pub to pick them up, there were a couple of people waiting for the only toilet to become vacant meaning she bet everything on being able to go when we arrived at our friend's cottage instead of holding us up while waiting for said toilet. As we approached the city limits, maybe 10 or so minutes onward, she was visibly in distress. She was breathing in short, nervous puffs and clearly intent on not disclosing how urgent her need had become. Still sitting in that stiff posture she started rocking back and forth in the seat when suddenly she gripped the curve handle with one hand while lifting herself up slightly and letting out a pitiful whimper. I had never seen her in such a dire and humiliated state and was in all honesty feeling rather uncomfortable. You know, sort of when you're in the presence of someone crying, letting you know that shit has become really serious. By now it was obvious that she wasn't far away from tears either, and by the look of her tense, slightly crooked posture and pinched thighs, those weren't the only fluids threatening to exit her body... "Oh no.... oh god.... I have to get out....I have to find a toilet.... Stop at the restaurant!" She said this in a panicked voice just as we approached a junction a few kilometers from my garage by which there is a burger restaurant, and the only place nearby where one could possibly find a toilet. Eager not to get the upholstery in my old car soaked in urine and my friend devastatingly humiliated, I turned left at the junction after having to wait a few agonizing seconds for the traffic lights to go green. ---- Part 2 coming soon Edited April 23, 2022 by Apan (see edit history) For The Peeple, omojoe, pguy69 and 10 others 12 1 Quote Link to comment
Apan 572 Posted April 26, 2022 Author Popular Post Share Posted April 26, 2022 "Don't know", I commented upon seeing the darkened windows and relatively empty parking lot, "It doesn't look like it's open" "No, don't say that! Please! They have to be! I'm pissing myself! Oh god!!" She actually used the P-word now. Things were getting serious. She was rocking even more violently back and forth in anticipation of finding relief. I halted the car and it was obvious the place had closed down for the evening. "It's no use. But we're almost home...", I didn't even get to finish the sentence before she flew out of the car and hobbled towards the door. She grabbed the handle and shook it in frustration while bouncing up and down holding one leg tightly crossed in front of the other. I'd be lying if the caveman part of my brain wasn't incredibly turned on by the sight, but see above regarding my conflicting feelings about crying and serious and all that emotional shit. So the place was closed. It took a few seconds for the rational part of her brain to finally convince her of that and she climbed back into the car which I hadn't even bothered to turn off as I knew the journey wasn't over yet. We set off and I made an honest effort to step on the gas the last couple of kilometers to my parking garage. "We're just about there, if you've managed to hold it this far you can manage a few more minutes" I tried to assure her. She didn't immediately reply, instead I noticed her head hanging down, her face beet red and all teared up and I heard her sniffle. Crying. Serious. Awkward. Uncomfortable. Legs semi-crossed, thighs tigggggghtly pressed together, body squirming around. How much is a recond? Will it rid the interior of urine stench? I imagined working at the car recond firm while suffering from this fetish and being tasked with sanitating a urine-drenched passenger seat. His imagination would have a field day! And how will I be able to face my friend after her drenching her jumpsuit in total and utter disgrace? About a kilometer left to the garage. Red lights. Of course. "Oh no, oh please, please, oh PLEAAAAASEEEE! HURRRRRYYYYYY!!!!!!" She was openly crying by now. As if things weren't serious enough. I couldn't enjoy this, despite having all the makings of a bona-fide omo story. But I was incredibly turned on as it had all the makings of a bona-fide omo story. Green. Drive. Ok, turn right first and then drive like hell. Panting, panicking, squirming, whining. Two hours in the pub without a toilet break, and god knows how long before that. And an additional hour in a meandering car. And beer. I know just how viciously beer can make its way through you and have been guilty myself of taking emergency leaks in darkened corners in the middle of town after genuinely feeling the bladder being as full as it could ever be. She was there now, if not beyond, but minus the ability to take a leak. I hastily turned onto the next street and then into the lane of the garage. We're talking seconds here but I bet her experience extended them into minutes, if not hours. She had definitely given up on trying to be discreet and sat like a corkscrew, legs crossed, one hand in crotch, the other propping herself up from the seat, all twisting about trying to keep her vintage clothing and my vintage upholstery from demanding sophisticated cleaning measures. I raced into the garage, probably hazardously so, and didn't even bother to reverse my car into the parking slot, something which usually is part of my driving ritual. As soon as we stopped, she stumbled out the door and started waddling towards the garage exit. I locked the car and followed. Well out on the street she continued in her awkward, almost duck-like walk, keeping her chubby thighs together meaning her legs were constantly criss-crossing each other. About a hundred or so meters onward, she suddenly stopped and bent down, still with her legs tightly crossed and her hands supporting her upper body against her thighs. "I can't.... oh no... I'm pissing, I'm gonna piss myself! I'm actually gonna piss myself!!" She wasn't though, but she clearly was in full panic mode which was emphasized by her breathless speech. "We're almost at my place, just a few hundred meters more." I reassured her, ever so emotionally conflicted. I don't want my friend to wet herself. But I prayed for this woman to wet herself. "It's too far... I have to go NOW! I have to find somewhere IMMEDIATELY!!!" she replied with even more panic in her voice. By now, even stripping out of her jumpsuit out in the countryside behind the workshop would probably have made sense. But we were no longer in the countryside, we were in a lit up residential area with people passing by on every streetcorner. From where we were standing, the nearest place that might have a bathroom was one of those small local pubs/restaurants where middle-aged men go to spend their hard-earned salary (or not-at-all-earned allowance) on cheap beer and slot machines, sometimes accompanied by their cackly wives. Trying it would mean deviating slightly from the route to my flat though, but in her state, it seemed to be the last dignified option left so we set off towards it. She made a gargantuan effort to keep her hands off of her crotch, instead balling them up into fists down her sides as she walked, still cross-leggedly, on the street towards the pub. Supposedly she didn't want to let on more than necessary just how incredibly desperate and vulnerable she was when approaching a crowd of rawdy old men holding court down at the pub. Still, hands or no hands, there was no mistaking her actual state by the way she walked and by the utter agony displayed on her face. We arrived at the pub and she scurried inside. Finally she would get relief provided she wasn't confronted with some customers-only policy or a broken toilet or something. I waited outside, not seeing that much of the interior but I did get a glimpse through the front window how she made her way past the counter and the attendant didn't protest, meaning their restroom must have been up for grabs for anyone needing it. And boy, did she ever! I stood outside waiting, slightly off to one side in order not to get myself involved in some meaningless drunk chatter when after a couple of minutes, she advanced out the front door. Finally her ordeal was over and we could resume the night. I thought. For about a second. Then I noticed her red face and tears glistening below her eyes. My heart was beating faster. ----- Part 3 coming soon WiiGuy86, Luna, derektor_2000 and 11 others 13 1 Quote Link to comment
WiiGuy86 641 Posted April 26, 2022 Share Posted April 26, 2022 This is fantastic! pguy69 1 Quote Link to comment
pguy69 497 Posted April 27, 2022 Share Posted April 27, 2022 It really is a great story. Can't wait to see what happens next! Quote Link to comment
vaderlingo 3 Posted April 27, 2022 Share Posted April 27, 2022 This is a great story! Really well-written. Quote Link to comment
Apan 572 Posted April 28, 2022 Author Share Posted April 28, 2022 Appreciate the appreciation! The final part will arrive within the next few days. Quote Link to comment
Apan 572 Posted May 10, 2022 Author Popular Post Share Posted May 10, 2022 I can only apologize for overstretching the definition of "the next few days", but hopefully the conclusion will redeem my tardiness. ------------ I looked down on her pants (or whatever they're called when part of a jumpsuit, just humour me on that one) and for about a millisecond I expected them to be drenched in urine. Did she piss herself in a pub full of ogling drunkards? Awkward. Serious. Emotional conflict. HOT! They were dry though, but her legs were still grinding against each other as she approached me. What happened? Was she told off for using the toilet not being a customer? But why wasn't she disallowed right away then? Was the toilet out of order? Why the wait then? I had no rational explanation for her abandoning the pub unrelieved given her utterly desperate state. "There was a queue and whoever was in there took forever to finish and no one let me cut in front!" Those weren't her exact words - you'll have to add in some frustration, panic and broken sentences - but in essence that was the gist of her immediate explanation for her retreat. I learned later on that there had been two women and one man in the toilet queue and that the person inside was taking his/her time for some unknown reason. After standing cross-legged behind the others for about half a minute, she tried persuading them to let her go next to which they all said no. Another minute onward with no sign of the toilet becoming vacant and she could feel the piss just about coming out from between her crossed thighs, she again pleaded the others to let her go first but still they refused. That's when she realized this would end in disaster if she didn't find an alternative NOW. In the time it took to deviate from the walk to my flat and for her to wait in line, we would have been at my place by now and the story would probably have ended. As it was, the pub was at about equal distance from my flat as the parking garage, meaning she was about five minutes from relief at best. But it was clear she didn't have five minutes - Every next five seconds was probably a miracle. The next possible salvation, and most likely the very last one, was the local grocery store, the very one I do my shopping at. I knew they had a toilet for customers and they were still open for about half an hour or so. I directed us towards it, yet another hundred or so meters. Panting, sobbing, panicking, waddling, braiding legs, grinding thighs, braiding legs, one foot stepping in front of the other, wiggling her hips, braiding legs, squirming, braiding legs, twisting, braiding legs, so awkward, so hot, please make it, please don't make it, please hold on, please piss yourself. I've never ever witnessed such intense desperation. And she could have been out of it had we not tried that pub and gone straight home instead! The grocery store being the one and only possible salvation, we entered it and I pointed out the toilet to the right of the entrance. She set off towards it immediately, before I even got the chance to add that you need to borrow a key from the cashier! Oh god, how Omo 101 can it get? She crashed onto the toilet door and started rattling the handle in panic, legs for once not crossed but very tightly pinched together as she bounced up and down. "You need a key! We have to ask the staff for it!" I chipped in. "Oh my god! This isn't happening!!" she said, almost breaking down in total defeat before waddling over to the checkouts of which only one was staffed as it was nearing closing time. "Excuse me", I started, "Do you have the key to the toilet?" "Sure," the cashier replied, "but it's being in use right now. You'll have to wait for the other person." Halfway through his reply I zoned out as a certain other drama was unfolding beside me. My friend suddenly half-crouched down with tightly clenched legs as a brief but audible hiss was heard! No, please, not here, not where I do my grocery shopping! Please hold it, I thought, please tighten your sphincher just another minute! It's so close! Corduroy is apparently really unforgiving. The wet streak was clearly visible on the back of her pants and I could even sense a faint urine smell, as if to underline just how close to a catastrophe she was. After receiving the information about the toilet being in use while clenching her legs together trying to avoid letting go right there, she spun around and ran back toward the toilet door. I say 'ran'; scurried with twisted legs would be more accurate, albeit in a more rapid fashion than ever before this evening. She knocked on the door, curtseying up and down, one leg in front of the other, thighs pressed together... SSSSHHHHHHHH A hiss, muffled between crossed legs and stretched fabric but still audible. Darkened and glistening wet streaks raced down the back of her legs, some urine even sprayed through the fabric onto the floor as she bounced up and down. I loved it. But I hated it, but I loved it. Hot. Serious. Emotional shit. Do you remember the Snuppa videos where she often was filmed from behind wetting herself with tightly crossed legs? That's what my friend was involuntarily re-enacting now. "No... nononono...please......please.......hurry.....", she started crying even more in total panic, rustling the doorhandle urging the person inside to at least make an effort to speed up proceedings. "No....no......" ....sssSSSSSHSSSHHHHSHSHHSSHSHHHHHH Do you realize just how saturated corduroy gets when soaked? I didn't, not until now. HSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSHHHHHHSSSSSSSSSSHHHSHSHHSHHHHH Waterfall doesn't even begin to decribe what I was witnessing. The wetness instantly raced down her legs and outward, hot piss forcing its way through the material and raining from her ass and the back of her crossed thighs onto the floor due to her bent over posture. Where the piss travelled down her calves, it drizzled off almost sideways as the fabric became so saturated it couldn't absorb the violent stream. The more enlightened part of my brain didn't want this, I didn't want this to happen to a friend, I didn't want her humiliated in public. But the caveman part of my brain saw a woman desperately pissing herself outside a locked toilet door, acted accordingly and sent primal orders to my chap. I couldn't help it, I involuntarily orgasmed in my jeans at the mere sight of the flood visibly streaming down her over-saturated corduroy pant legs and simultaneously seeping through the fabric and raining down beneath her leg-crossed semi-crouching body, all to the soundtrack of an irregular hiss and her devastated crying. She remained in that crouching corkscrew position while her overfilled bladder forced its contents out in the by now totally drenched lower part of her jumpsuit over the course of almost two minutes. I didn't time it of course, but it was definitely much longer than one minute of pure omo bliss and emotional devastation on behalf of a humiliated friend. I heard the rustle of a toilet roll from behind the door. "Oh my god, you didn't make it? You poor thing!" I was startled by a voice from behind and noticed a female staffer having arrived at the scene and spotting my devastated friend propping herself up against the locked door, all teared up and red in the face, unable to speak for obvious reasons. Remember how I said her jumpsuit wasn't tri-coloured at the beginning? It was certainly bi-coloured now, almost as if the lower half of it had been a separate pair of pants in a darker shade of brown-orange, if not for them being obviously and thoroughly soaked. The smell of hot steaming urine, which is somewhat different once it comes in the form of drenched fabric for some reason, filled the compartment. The female staffer was clearly more sympathetic than anything and said that they would take care of the mess and that we should leave to take care of my friend. Whoever was occupying the toilet still hadn't exited when we left the store. Just as well, my friend didn't need any additional witnesses to her misfortune. I'm not a man of words when it comes to emotionally charged situations and went down the practical route instead to help her out the best I could. I escorted her back to my flat where I let her wash herself off in the shower before lending her a pair of jeans and a shirt. She calmed down a bit thereafter but needless to say, we didn't see the night out over the planned beers and I followed her home to her own flat located downtown. The poor jumpsuit went with her in a double plastic bag. I reckon it would be restored with a couple of washings but I haven't seen her in it since then, it has to be said. Not that she has fully given up on the style, because I have seen her wearing a corduroy shirt dress in a similar fashion. Perhaps she has learned once and for all to avoid the jumpsuit jinx. GreenChile, skywalker58, omojoe and 8 others 8 3 Quote Link to comment
GreenChile 828 Posted May 11, 2022 Share Posted May 11, 2022 What a story, you have excellent writing skills Quote Link to comment
drthunder 15 Posted May 11, 2022 Share Posted May 11, 2022 This is an excellent story! Great details, great pacing, great buildup to the finale. Quote Link to comment
Notmeherepleas 19 Posted May 20, 2022 Share Posted May 20, 2022 Omg I had the same experience . I held it for a whole 15 hours and ending up pissing myself in front of everyone in my ballet class because I couldn’t unbuckle the dress and I was too shy to ask. pguy69, Memento Mori and GreenChile 3 Quote Link to comment
Apan 572 Posted May 26, 2022 Author Share Posted May 26, 2022 On 5/20/2022 at 11:46 AM, Notmeherepleas said: Omg I had the same experience . I held it for a whole 15 hours and ending up pissing myself in front of everyone in my ballet class because I couldn’t unbuckle the dress and I was too shy to ask. That sure sounds like something for the board in its entirety. Care to post it in the near future? Quote Link to comment
Notmeherepleas 19 Posted May 27, 2022 Share Posted May 27, 2022 10 hours ago, Apan said: That sure sounds like something for the board in its entirety. Care to post it in the near future? Sure! Quote Link to comment
Apan 572 Posted May 27, 2022 Author Share Posted May 27, 2022 5 hours ago, Notmeherepleas said: Sure! Looking forward to read it! Quote Link to comment
Notmeherepleas 19 Posted May 31, 2022 Share Posted May 31, 2022 On 5/27/2022 at 6:57 PM, Apan said: Looking forward to read it! Hey! I’ve posted the story, hope you like it Quote Link to comment
Lapis Lazuli 213 Posted August 27, 2022 Share Posted August 27, 2022 There's something really visceral about this story, I think it's the way you described your friend's discomfort. A lot of stories mention that kind of thing, things like crying because you feel like you're not going to make it and you're super embarrassed, or just finding the sensation overwhelming, but there's something about this one that feels a lot more real. I almost feel predatory reading this. It's a lovely story, but the kind of story where I really have to hope your friend wasn't super mortified about it, or that she was able to laugh it off. ...also, is it ACTUALLY possible to orgasm without touching yourself? Quote Link to comment
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