Ooh a fantasy… I have so many ;)
One that always comes to mind is going out with someone who knows how much I love omo. We go to a restaurant, and they order a bottle of wine, winking at me as I finish my first glass. “Don’t rush through it babe, you don’t know when you’ll be going to the bathroom next…”
I have a pretty ok time holding my bladder, but when I start to not know when I can go next (new places, airplanes, etc.) sometimes the nerves get to me. As soon as they say that, I take a mental check of where my bladder is at - and immediately panic, thinking I’m almost full. Watching the liquid flow into my glass and splash. I take a few breaths, and smile. This is going to be fun.
A few glasses in, I now think I really am starting to feel it. My legs are starting to shake a little, a little mini pee dance in my chair. Not out of desperation, but just out of a slight discomfort. My knees are definitely squeezed together. They drop their napkin.
“Oops!” and as he bends down to pick it up, I know he’s looking at my legs under the table. How close together they are. How I’ve pulled up my skirt so the elastic isn’t over my bladder, but on my waist now, the little bulge where my fullness is sticking out. I flush a little, and try to stop the shaking for a moment, wishing I could hold better than I could - but he and I both know that alcohol makes everything so much worse for me, and goes right through me.
When he sits back in his chair, he smiles. “You okay?”
“Doing great,” I smile back. “How about you?” I’ve been watching him, and he’s not only had as much wine as I have, but three glasses of water - the waiter keeps refilling. He has a much higher tolerance than me, but I know this is still more than usual…and he wants to play.
“Doing great. Let’s get the check” He gets the check and we go to leave. The second we stand up I feel my bladder send shivers. “oooh,” I wiggle my hips a little. “Just to let you know -” my voice still cracks everytime I say it, “I kinda have to go to the bathroom..but I can wait for the next place”
“Good. You’ll need to,” he says. As we leave, he pushes up close behind me as we walk out the door and I can feel his hard cock through his jeans. “Naughty boy….” I turn to him, and he presses me against the wall outside the restaurant, kissing me..and grinding into my bladder.
My panties are wet (but not from leaking..yet) as I squirm under him, feeling his cock twitch as I grind my crotch against his leg to help me hold. “I actually…really have to go…” I whisper in his ear “…and if you keep doing this…I…”
He releases me. “You might what?” he asks, playfully. As we wait for a cab, he shifts foot to foot. “You know..I kinda have to pee too…”
“I saw you drinking all that water! I knew it. But big boys can hold it, can’t they?” I ask, casually crossing my legs (though internally, it wasn’t casual at all)
“Yes. But so can big girls.” He shoots back.
Our cab arrives, and we go to the next bar. As we walk in, it’s icy cold - the AC must be blasting. It hits my bladder like a wave, and I let out a little gasp. “Ooh…” and I feel the first contraction, the first risk of leaking, as I tighten up and press my legs close.
We sit down, and he immediately downs the water. “I’m trying to catch up to you…” he whispers, running his foot against my leg (tightly crossed) under the table. He winces a little and adjusts his pants. I feel my panties getting damper, still not from any leaks…but from watching him, knowing how little he shows, knowing how much he’s had to drink, and that little adjustment meant everything.
When I have to go - I can hold it usually for some time. Alcohol and caffeine do me in, but I still have a runway. Him, on the other hand, when he has to go, it’s time. We’ve been in shopping malls and I’ve seen him go from nothing to sneaking quick grabs and shuffling towards the bathroom. We’ve been in the car, and I’ve had to pull over while he yanks out his dick - sometimes leaving a few spots on his boxers.
Our drinks come, and I can barely look at mine, let alone think about drinking it. I have to pee. But I know he does too, and I want to have some fun watching it, and enjoying this desperation - I get so turned on when I have to go.
He’s getting a little red, and as he grabs his martini glass, I notice his hands shaking a little. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“You know now..I’ve really gotta go. I gotta go-” he bites his lip, and I see his hand brush his pants and make a quick grab, “like right now.”
“I’d like you to hold it for me.” My legs are crossed tight, knowing his need makes mine so much worse.
“I am. I did. I mean- I am, but,” when his words get mixed up like this, I know it’s time. I take a sip of my drink. Damn. It feels like it goes straight to my bladder.
“I’ve had to go for an hour, and I’ve held it. I’ve squirmed under you, and kept my legs tight, and been a good girl. Now you, hold it for me, just for a minute.”
His eyes stay on me as he takes another sip and winces, adjusting his pants up again, away from his bladder. He must be dying. I’m so horny now, I just want to take him and fuck him, but know we’ll never make it home.
“Ok, babe,” he looks at me and adjusts himself again, this time the grab even more obvious. This is a very special show for me.
“Here’s the plan,” I whisper to him. “I’ve gotta go too. And I’m a wreck watching you. I honestly think I might leak when I stand up, so we need to get to the bathroom. It’s in the back, and they’re unisex. Let’s get in there together. I’m going to go first…and don’t make a scene.”
He nods. I take another squeeze of my legs, feeling his eyes fixated on my crotch, and uncross them, exhaling. Fuck. I knew it, and I can feel that first dribble on the edge, ready to escape. Fuck. I should’ve gone at the restaurant. I hope this bathroom isn’t far. I stand up and feel the first leak escape, and take a look at him with a grimace. I cross my legs tight again.
“What’s going on? Go!” he whispers.
“I’m…trying…to get control!” I whisper back, tightening with everything I got.
I hurry over to the bathroom. Feeling a few leaks escape. I get inside, and immediately grab myself, cross my legs, and squirm. I take my panties off, so anything I lose won’t ruin them. He’s in a moment later, already undoing his belt.
“Fuck! Fuck!” he exclaims, holding himself. “Help me undo this damn belt!”
I know what this means - he’s losing control too. Underneath, he’s already leaked, if he has to grab like that, there’s no other choice. I help him with his belt, kissing him although he fights me. We’re two squirming messes, and using my hands to undo his belt means that I’m constantly leaking now, little squirts running down my legs as I stomp up and down trying to keep control with this dance.
“Stop!” he exclaims, grabbing his zipper. There’s not time for my terrible coordination on this belt.
He gets his dick out of the zipper and I see it’s dripping - there’s already a spot on his pants. I’ve never seen this. Desperation, yes. Losing it like this - god I could cum already.
He’s pissing a heavy stream in the toilet, exhaling, while I’m dancing and holding myself next to him. “Hurry! I can’t, “ I gasp, “wait!”
He stops the stream, a feat I can tell from his face wincing. “Go now,” he knows I’m going to piss all over the floor otherwise. Now it’s my turn to let go, and god it feels good. Watching him still squirm (I also find that stopping mid-piss is even harder than holding to begin with, especially when desperate) while I get relief….
He tells me to spread my legs, so he can go again too. I oblige, and he faces me pissing in the front of the toilet, our faces both total ecstasy at this release.
(WOW. writing this got me so wet, and wishing it was real!!!!)
