Pissing In The Rain

My bladder was absolutely screaming at me.

I'd needed to pee before getting on the coach but for some reason I didn't bother using the ladies' room prior to boarding. I NEVER use the bathroom on those things, but after just over an hour of holding I would have broken that rule had the toilet not been out of order. I sat cross legged in the window seat with my hands firmly between my thighs, pressing against my privates and subtly jigging my leg in an attempt to hold it in. I tried to take my mind off my urge by watching the heavy traffic, but as a warm sunny day turned to tropical-storm levels of downpour my only distraction became raindrops racing down the window against a backdrop of street rivers and windscreen wipers. That certainly did not make my life any easier

Two hours in and we were in stop-start traffic. My bladder was in physical pain, my urethra muscles were fatigued from all the holding in, and my mind was turning yellow with desire for relief.

After 2 hours and 50 minutes of torture we finally reached my stop. It was on the edge of town, and while I was already overjoyed to be off that bus and one step closer to a toilet, my place was still a 20 minute walk through town centre in torrential rainfall. Truth be told, I hadn't anticipated this weather - I had no umbrella nor coat nor jumper and I was regretting my decision to go braless that morning. All I was wearing was a t-shirt, my indigo jeans, and some tatty & beaten Chuck Taylors. It's rare that beautiful summer weather will transform into one of the worst rainstorms you've seen all season but I suppose that's British weather for you.

Before long I was soaked, my hair was sopping, my shoes were waterlogged, and I was shivering violently from the cold. I dashed through the rain best I could but I was so scared of accidentally letting go of my bladder that it was more of a brisk walk.

As luck would have it, it was Sunday. At this time of day there were no shops or cafés open at all, nowhere with a restroom, no public bathrooms, nothing. I knew my best bet was the McDonald's - it would be a detour from my place but so long as I could relieve my bladder I didn't care. I crossed through town, uphill past rivers of rainwater doing my best to stay dry but failing miserably. As McDonald's entered my sights I stepped one foot straight into a puddle, filling one of my already saturated trainers.

The blast of hot air from the restaurant was an oasis of warmth and comfort amongst the sea of cold, wet misery that was the outside.

I marched straight past the kiosks to the back of the room where I thought the bathrooms might be and... keypad? These were the public restrooms, ladies and gents, why was there a keypad lock? I jiggled the handle in obvious frustration before I finally looked up to see the sign on the door in big black letters.

"RESTROOMS ARE FOR CUSTOMERS ONLY - PLEASE ENTER CODE AT THE BOTTOM OF YOUR RECEIPT"

Bastards. What utter bastards.

I wasn't going to wait for a burger before I could pee, I literally couldn't unless I wanted to give some poor worker a piss puddle to mop up. I stormed out of that place and towards home. I knew that if I went the long way through the park I could use one of the pay toilets. I was that desperate.

The rain had not slowed down at all, in fact it had somehow gotten even worse. My hair was drenched, I much have looked like I'd gone swimming and I'd definitely need to use the hairdryer when I got home. My T-shirt was clinging to my skin, my nipples could surely be seen from a mile away with how badly they were poking through and the only thing I could be thankful for was the fact that I hadn't chosen to wear white. My already dark blue jeans were even darker, rubbing and clinging against my legs in the worst way and weighing me down with all the water. My socks and shoes were the most unpleasant though, I could hear them squelching through puddles and every step was hell. I couldn't imagine being more uncomfortable.

I wanted nothing more than to be home and dry but my bladder was in so much pain that it almost rivalled the discomfort I was experiencing from the heavy rain. For maybe a moment or two I'd be fine but then a pang would hit my bladder and I'd have to stop in my tracks. I wasn't thinking straight at all, my entire world revolved around getting to the bathroom and not peeing my panties.

Finally, I reached the silver pay toilets at the edge of the park, right by the main road. After nearly half a mile of unsheltered hell, 50p was all that stood between me and that glorious toilet seat. I was going to make it.

Standing under the overhang in front of the door I ruffled through my bag, finally sheltered from the storm, hopping up and down so desperately. My purse was in there. I just knew it. Somehow when you're near a bathroom your entire body just gives up and you suddenly need to pee more than you ever have, not helpful when there's still some way to go.

Then, at the very bottom of my bag, I found it. I found my coin purse. I dropped my whole bag while fumbling with it and tipped the contents into my hand. I counted it best I could.

10p 20p 40p 45p 47p...

That was it? It couldn't be.

I counted again but I was three pence short of entry. It's like the world was punishing me for being unprepared. I fucking hate pay toilets.

I looked around for something, anything that could help, but all I could see was open fields and the main road. I picked up my bag and ran back out into the pouring rain, out of the gate and along the roadside. I didn't even know why I was running, my house was still 10 minutes away. I'd never make it, and all that running was not doing my bladder any good.

After one too many steps I accidentally let a little bit go. Just a dribble in my pants, maybe a little more than that. I felt the warmth against my crotch and my ass, maybe the first warmth I'd felt in ages. My run turned into a stumble, then a crawl. I realised that I had released the floodgates and I was slowly peeing myself. I pressed my hand against my crotch and it felt warm, piss was dribbling down the side and back of my leg, it might have even reached my shoes. I held it in as best I could, but I knew that any more walking was useless. I felt so defeated.

I looked at my jeans and you could hardly tell I had done anything. I was already so wet that the pee was unnoticeable to anybody but me... what choice did I have?

So right there in the pouring rain, I stood up straight, walked a few steps to the edge of the road, crossed my arms, and sat right on the edge of the pavement. Cars passed by. With anger in my eyes, I finally let go of the tension.

The relief was instant - I didn't start slow at all, my pee just gushed out of me the moment I let myself do so. It passed right through my saturated jeans and ran down the street, leaving a visible stream of pale yellow flowing into the drain. People in cars must have wondered why a girl was sitting at the side of the road wearing just a T-shirt in the middle of a rainstorm, and I too wondered what I had done in my life to be sat in a warm puddle of my own piss. Behind all the rain, I don't think you could tell that I was crying a little bit.

After what felt like an eternity I was done wetting myself. I felt angry and empty but most of all I felt uncomfortable. I stood up to see that the puddle I'd left was quickly disappearing and my jeans looked no more wet than they did a minute ago, thankfully.

My arms still crossed and still shivering, I stomped back towards home feeling utterly miserable. Even though I was no more wet than before I'd peed in my pants, I felt so gross knowing the source of some of that wetness and faintly smelling the urine on my jeans. I passed by several people on the street before reaching my neighbourhood. They probably didn't know I'd pissed myself, but I did, and I felt humiliated.

A full ten minutes after my accident I finally made it home. I stumbled through the door looking like a drowned rat and slammed it behind me. I was cold, I was exhausted, but I was finally home.

I dumped my bag on the floor, removed my shoes, and marched on over to the washing machine in the kitchen. I pulled off my t-shirt and threw it in the drum, my nipples looked chaffed. Next came my socks, which didn't have a dry spot on them, and then my jeans which I had to peel away. They were hard to get past my ankles, and they smelled very badly of ammonia. Finally, my once white panties had turned almost see-through, now stained slightly yellow on the crotch and the ass. I cringed at that as I finished loading the washing machine.

Still naked, I dripped through the house upstairs and into the bathroom where I had a long, warm shower. The word "relaxing" does not begin to describe it.

I told myself that once I was done in the shower, a very long time from now, I'd put on a fluffy dressing gown, make myself a nice warm drink, and not leave my bed for the rest of the evening.