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A female desperation story

I was driving my girlfriend back to her place. We had been out night clubbing and it was finally time to call it a night. Suddenly, looking over, I noticed that Cheryl was squirming uncomfortably in her seat. I asked her if anything was the matter. “Shit! It’s all the damn beer we must’ve drank. And now I’ve gotta pee. I’ve gotta pee real, real bad too!” She cried. “We’ll be at your place in a couple of minutes. It’s just one more exit.” I said, trying to reassure her. But as we approached that exit, traffic began to back up, and then came to a complete halt. There seemed to be an accident up ahead and no one was going anywhere. Cheryl began panicking, realizing we weren’t moving. “What am I going to do? I’ve gotta pee, I’m bursting!” She said, desperation in her voice.

I didn’t know what to say because for all I knew we might be here for a while. And this was a busy freeway so it wasn’t as though I could just pull over and let Cheryl find a bush. “I don’t think I can hold it in any longer. I don’t think I can! I’m going to piss in my pants!” She said, her face red with embarrassment as she pondered her predicament. This was a new car and I didn’t exactly relish having her drench my car seat with her urine. Luckily, there were a couple of towels in the back seat from a trip to the beach I had taken the prior weekend and I handed her the towels now and told her to put them on the seat. “Thanks Jenny, you’re a friend,” Cheryl said. Relieved that I was sympathetic. “This is so embarrassing!” “Don’t be embarrassed, Cheryl. We’ve shared a lot of stuff, and this’ll just be one more thing.” I patted her thigh.

It was true. Cheryl and I would tell each other all our secrets. We’d describe our sexual escapades in detail. And some of those escapades were pretty freaky. Once I even told Cheryl how I let a guy piss on me and how much I liked it. So it’s not as though peeing was something we hadn’t already talked about. “All right, I’m gonna pee now,” she said, looking at me with a shy, slightly humiliated expression. Looking down at the crotch of her jeans I could see the wet stain spreading from her crotch down her thighs. She was really getting wet down there, obviously Cheryl had a very full bladder. “I’ m so sorry Jenny,” she said, still apologizing. “Forget it. If you have to pee, you have to pee,” I said. When we finally got off the freeway and over to Cheryl’s apartment complex I gave her a raincoat so she could cover herself: She asked me to come inside with her. She probably didn’t want to say goodnight to me in this state. In the elevator little did all the others realize that my friend’s jeans were drenched with her own urine!

When we were up in her place she rushed into the bathroom. “Hey, let me take a look at you before you pull off those wet clothes,” I said. “What?! I’m embarrassed enough as it is, now you want to look at me standing in my piss soaked jeans?” she said, bemused. “Yeah, I do. I want to see what you look like,” I said in that sassy tone of voice Cheryl and I like to use with each other when we both know we’re being sexy. “Okay, here I am,” she said, now posing in her wet jeans, slowly turning around and bending over so I could see how thoroughly drenched was the seat of her jeans. Then she sat on the rim of the bathtub, flexing and spreading her legs so l could stare at the wet denim at her crotch and her thighs. I don’t know why, but there was something so sexy about seeing Cheryl like this, just having pissed in her jeans and still wearing them. Cheryl is real cute and has a killer body. She always looks terrific in tight jeans, especially wet ones, as I now saw! “You look so sexy,” I said to Cheryl, and there was a tone in my voice that both Cheryl and I recognized now as being frankly sexual. And there was an erotic luster in her eyes now as she approached me. “Say, if I had to pee so bad, you probably have to pee too, Jenny. You had as much to drink as me. And I didn’t notice you going to the bathroom to take a piss.” Cheryl was right. I did need to take a piss. “Hey, I peed in my jeans, why don’t you soak yours?” Cheryl suggested. “I want to see you get wet too.” “Okay, ‘ I said, feeling tree and bold. “I think I will.” I planted my feet wide apart and started peeing. There was a mirror on the wall, so not only could I feel myself getting all damp, I could watch the wet stain of my urine spread across the denim of my jeans. Cheryl had been sitting in the car when she wet, but I was standing. So the pee was running down my pantlegs, tinkling into a little puddle at my feet. Luckily, I had taken off my shoes when I walked into Cheryl’s place. “Wow! Check it out!” Cheryl said lustfully as she watched me dampen my jeans. It felt so nice and warm and moist down there, in between my legs, as I kept peeing. Finally I finished. Cheryl and I now stood opposite each other, staring down at our piss-drenched bottoms. Then, without saying a word, we rushed at each other, kissing and caressing, feeling each other up, running fingers across the wet denim. “Let’s take these wet jeans off, shall we ?” I said softly. “Let’s,” Cheryl purred, pulling down my zipper and reaching in to fondle my pissy-wet pussy!

Female Desperation On The Drive Home

October 15th, 2010 / Comments Off / by admin

I still remember the midterm exam that I gave in the summer of ‘94
like it was yesterday. I was teaching an introductory algebra course that
quarter. I had only ten students in the class; algebra was not a popular
course during summer term, because it met five days a week for two solid
hours.

There were four guys in the class and six girls. Lynn was the
prettiest. She was about twenty years old, and she had just finished her
first year in college. This was her first time taking a summer course. She
was also one of my brightest, most attentive students. She was rarely
absent, always prepared for class, and usually sat in the front row.

It was a hot day in late June, and Lynn came into class in a white
tee shirt with some sort of environmental message on it (I think it was
something to do with Earth Day) and a pair of baggy khaki shorts. She was
barefoot, her sneakers tied to the straps of her backpack.

She had a large soft drink with her, and I could hear the ice
sloshing around as she took her seat in the front row. It was about eight
minutes before the hour. Other students filed into the room slowly,
chatting idly about the exam, the weather, and other things. I looked over
the exam one last time, searching for any errors that my teaching assistant
might have missed. Lynn took a long drag on the straw of the paper soft
drink cup, and I heard the ice protest once again. It sounded like the cup
was empty. She searched through her backpack, lines of frustration crossing
her face, and finally produced two pencils and an eraser.

I studied her long dark hair, her tanned legs and her bare feet. I
often had trouble taking my eyes off this girl during class. I wished I was
younger.

With four minutes to go, I asked the class if there were any last
minute questions. Tom, the guy who had been absent most of the quarter,
wanted to know how to divide two complex numbers. A few of the other
students groaned. If he hadn’t mastered that by now, it was unlikely he
would pass this test.

The bell rang. To an observer from another planet, we must have
looked like rats in some of sort of operant conditioning experiment. I
picked up the stack of exams, and my students cleared their books off their
desks. I distributed the exams. Some students began working on the first
page immediately while others leafed through the exam to get a general idea
of what was involved. “You should have three sheets with five pages of
text,” I announced. “Make sure you aren’t missing any pages.” I then
informed the class that they had the whole two hour class period for the
exam.

The room was warm, so I went over to the thermostat and adjusted
the air conditioning. Then I sat down to read the paper. Exams like this
can be incredibly boring for professors. My students were seated far enough
apart that I really didn’t have to worry too much about cheating. But I had
to stay in the room, otherwise the temptation would be too great,
especially for someone like Tom. I leafed through the paper, occasionally
glancing up to see if anyone was trying to get my attention to ask a
question. And of course I would take a peek at Lynn and one or two of the
other girls in the class.

After about twenty five minutes, I noticed that Lynn seemed to be
shifting her weight and adjusting herself quite a bit. Once she dropped her
pencil, and it rolled under another desk. She looked up and leaned
forward, but couldn’t reach it. So she sat back a bit and retrieved it by
grabbing it with her toes. She looked at me briefly and smiled.

She continued to shift her weight from time to time, and it
occurred to me that perhaps the soda she had drunk was beginning to catch
up with her. If this was the case, I thought to myself, this may well
become the most interesting exam I have ever given. Normally my students
get a five minute break in the middle of the period; but today no one was
permitted to leave the room until they turned in the exam. And I expected
even my best students to need most or all of the period for this test.

Some fifteen minutes later, Lynn got up slowly and approched my
desk. She leaned toward me, and said in a whisper, “Can I go to the
bathroom?” I had to struggle to keep from smiling too broadly. I couldn’t
believe what I was hearing. “You can’t leave the room during the exam,” I
said gently. She looked down, disappointed. “Okay,” she said quietly.

Well, I thought, this is definitely going to be better than reading
the horoscopes for the rest of the exam. I got up to stretch my legs, and
walked around the room a bit. I stopped for a side view of Lynn. She now
had one leg crossed under the other; the bottom of her right foot was
lightly covered with dirt from running around barefoot. One hand held her
pencil, while the other rested on her forehead, giving her a look of
intense concentration. I wondered if my hard-on was noticeable. But no one
in the class was looking at me, of course; everyone was wrapped up in the
test.

As the time passed, Lynn’s discomfort increased significantly.
With about an hour left to the period, Lynn now had her legs crossed with
one on top of the other, in the more traditional female style. But after
another five minutes, she shifted her position again, this time placing her
left leg under her right leg. She looked up at the clock. I was back at my
desk now, and she looked at me briefly. I smiled, and she smiled back. She
returned to her exam, uncrossing her legs and placing one hand in her lap.
A few more minutes went by, and Lynn crossed both her legs in a yoga style.

I got up to walk around again. As I circled the perimeter of the
room, I saw Lynn bite her lower lip. She uncrossed her legs once again,
this time squeezing them together. I returned to my desk and pretended to
look at the paper again. Lynn was slowly relaxing the tension in her legs,
and looking down at her lap. Sure enough, a wet spot had appeared right in
the middle of her light khaki shorts. She crossed her legs once more,
looked around nervously, and finally turned her attention back to the exam.

There were now 50 minutes remaining in the class period, and I
noticed that Lynn had just started the fourth page of my five page exam. I
walked to the back of the room and looked over the entire class, while
reaching into my pocket to adjust my hard-on. Lynn was definitely going to
need the remaining class time in order to finsh the exam. Her little leak
that had probably released a lot of the pressure in her; I wondered if she
would be able to hold on until the end.

Fifteen minutes later I found out. Lynn drew in a sharp breath, and
snapped her mouth shut quickly. Her legs were not crossed at this point;
she squeezed her legs together tightly, but a large damp patch quickly
spread across the front of her shorts and began to stretch toward her
knees. I looked right at her now, unable to resist this visual treat. She
was staring at her lap in horror. It seemed that she had once again been
able to stop the flow, but the wet spot had grown substantially in size.
Anyone looking directly at her could tell that she had peed in her pants.
Fortunately for her, there was only one other student sitting in the front
row today, and he was five seats away from her. So no one except me had a
frontal view. She looked up from her crotch and stared at me. Her face was
bright red. I gave her a half-smile, not knowing how else to react.
Certainly she didn’t want me to say anything. I simply couldn’t let her
leave the room. Besides, at this point, getting up would attract attention
to her situation and let other people see her condition.

Lynn looked down at her backpack, and then went back to the exam. I
began to feel sorry for her. Lynn lived in an apartment off campus,
probably with a couple of roommates. Did she have a change of clothes in
her backpack? It seemed unlikely, unless she had athletic clothes for a
workout or something. She was going to have a hard time getting home
without everyone seeing that she had wet herself.

I wondered what would happen if other students noticed what was
going on. This seemed inevitable, since they would eventually approach my
desk to turn in the exam. Because of the weather, no one had sweaters or
jackets of any kind; Lynn had only her backpack and her shoes, and these
weren’t going to be very effective at covering up her mess. She looked wet
enough that I was pretty sure it wouldn’t dry before class was over; in
fact, if she wet herself much more, I estimated, it might start dripping
onto the floor. I wondered if she was wearing a pad or feminine napkin.
Probably not. If she was, it had soaked through quite a while ago. There
was even a possiblity that she had only a bikini bathing suit on under her
shorts. Sunbathing was a popular way to pass the time between classes at
this time of year, and judging from her tan, it was something she did on a
fairly regular basis.

With twenty minutes left to the class period, the first two
students got up to turn in their exams. One walked right past Lynn, handed
me the exam, and went back to his seat, passing her again. If he noticed
anything, I couldn’t tell from his behavior or facial expressions. He
picked up his backpack and left without crossing the front of the room.

Since I already had a full view of Lynn’s accident, it seemed like
her best bet for avoiding some major embarrassment was to wait until
everyone else had left the room. She had apparently come to the same
conclusion, because she was indeed the last one to turn in her exam. As the
others handed theirs in and left, I saw some of them looking back at Lynn
as they opened the door to the room. But no one actually said anything
because others were still taking the test. When the last two girls left the
room, I heard excited voices out in the hall, which slowly receded into the
distance.

Finally, Lynn was the only one left in the room. She looked up at
me, her face turning a bright shade of pink again. She stood up slowly,
and I noticed a dark stain on the fabric of the chair underneath her. She
handed me her exam slowly, looking down at her shorts.

“Well,” she said nervously, “I guess next time I’ll know to go to
the bathroom before the test.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond. I really didn’t want to embarrass
her any further. If she had simply handed me the exam and left, I never
would have said a word about the matter to her or anyone else. Well… OK,
maybe I would tell a few friends about it, but I wouldn’t mention her name.
I counted myself lucky just to have seen it.

But her comment caught me off guard. It sounded like she wanted me
to acknowledge what had happened. She seemed to want to get it out in the
open. Did she want me to apologize for not letting her leave the room? She
looked at me.

“You couldn’t quite hold it, huh?” I finally said.

“I shouldn’t have had all that soda right before the exam,” she
said. “We usually get a break during class.”

“I’m sorry I couldn’t let you go,” I stammered. “But we can’t have
people going in and out during a test. It would create a lot of problems
with cheating.”

“I know. Don’t worry about it.” She seemed more comfortable with
the whole episode now. Her shorts had begun to dry, but it was still
obvious that she had wet herself.

She collected her things and picked up her backpack. A final
thought struck me. “Can I give you a ride home or something?”

“Would you?” She asked. Her face lit up. “This is pretty
embarrassing.” She managed a nervous laugh. I agreed, and we headed toward
the door.

We headed down the hallway. “Uhm… I still have to go,” she said
quietly. I waited patiently while she disappeared into the ladies’ room.

On the way to my car, she stopped and bought a newspaper, which she
carried in front of her to cover the wetness on her shorts. But she still
couldn’t do much to hide the backside. Then she sat on the paper in my car,
trying not to get the seat wet. As I drove her home, she wondered aloud
what she would tell her roommates. But by the time we arrived, her shorts
were almost dry from the sun and the heat. If you knew what you were
looking at, it was still obvious; but her roommate probably wouldn’t notice
it if she disappeared straight into her room.

She thanked me for driving her home, and then looked over her
shoulder and smiled as she went up the steps to her apartment.

Needless to say, she got an A on test.

Female Desperation Story

February 16th, 2010 / Comments Off / by admin

Here is another Female Desperation Story i came across

It was in late August, and the weather was not as warm as I would like it to be. I was in the supermarket to buy something to eat during the week-end. Then I noticed this woman. She was wearing high-heeled black shoes, grey stockings, a black leather skirt and a white blouse. Her jacket was bright red. I was walking behind her in the supermarket. I had been following her for a little while, because I could see that there was something about that woman. Actually I thought that she would soon go to the loo. You can see that at people because their way of walking becomes a bit different when they try to hold back the pee. She was definitely going to the loo, and I hoped that she wouldn’t make it all the way, and by the way she was walking she would get into trouble making it to the loo which was situated in the cellar. I would do a lot to make sure that I was there if she didn’t make it, so I followed her in a short distance.

She was quite good looking, about 30 and with a figure that someone would call plump. I would rather say she had a bit extra on the right spots. And her calf’s was beautifully curved in the black stockings. Her face was cute, and her curled blond hair was giving her face something that made my dick move a bit in my pants.

Of course she noticed me after a little while, and as she did, she smiled to me. Now she was heading for the loo, and she speeded up a little as we came closer to the stairway leading down to the loo’s in the cellar. I followed her down the stairs, and saw her head straight for the ladies room. There were only two cubicles in the men’s room, and I expected that there might be three or four in the ladies room. She went inside, and I thought that this was what I got from all this work, and headed for the men’s room to ease my cock, which had been standing in expectation for the last five minutes.

I never reached the door to the men’s room before she came out again from the ladies room. “Sorry, I need to go and it’s urgent, and there are no cubicles free in the ladies room.” I thought that this was my chance to get in close contact with this lady, and hurried inside the men’s room right in front of her.

Suddenly she stopped in the middle of the room, and a strange look came upon her face. “I’m pee in my pants if I move one more step”, she said quietly. “I’ll help you, I’ll open the door to one of the cubicles, and if you pull up your leather skirt, you might just make it to the bowl.”

She had no time to think, and to my amazement she pulled up the leather skirt, and revealed that she was wearing real stockings with a golden lace suspender and golden lace briefs. I was standing in front of her holding the door open, and she started to move across the 2 meters between her and the bowl.

“Oh shit, I don’t make it, I can feel it coming !!” she moaned.

She dumped herself on the bowl, and didn’t make any attempts to get her briefs off. She spread her beautiful legs, and gave me a free sight to the golden lace briefs, which was now being filled with her pee. The pee soaked the bottom of the briefs immediately, and started to spread upwards as the fabric absorbed some of the pee.

I took a chance and stepped right next to the bowl, closed the door behind me and put my right hand right on the spot where the pee was spurting out of the golden lace briefs. I was a warm and beautiful feeling, and to my surprise she didn’t say a word. I began rubbing the wet fabric and could feel her pussy.

I looked at her face, and she gave me that strange smile again. The she closed her eyes, and while she was still peeing all over my hand she began to moan a little. The stream lasted for less than thirty seconds, and I wondered what would happen next. I continued rubbing her pussy, and now I could feel another kind of fluid mix wit the pee. It was thicker and a little like the white of an egg. Then I knew she was ready for me. She started to unbutton my pants, and pulled out my hard cock. Immediately she began to suck it, and at the same time she stroke my balls. I knew that I couldn’t stand that treatment for more than a few seconds, so I gently pulled my cock away from her.

“Please raise, and bend over the bowl,” I asked her.

“Okay, but you must fuck me now, or I’ll explode”, she said to me in a voice.

She rose, and as she was standing there with her beautiful legs apart, and with her soaked lace briefs right in my face, and I knew I only had very limited time before my cock would explode. I pulled her wet lace briefs aside, and banged my cock all the way up her pussy. I could feel the wet fabric against my skin, and I could also feel that her juices was running down her legs to the edge of the stockings, where it was absorbed. I plunged my cock in and out, and she moaned so loud that I was afraid someone should hear her and think something was wrong.

I could feel it coming, and I shot my full load up in her wet pussy. It seemed that my cock would never stop pumping my cum up inside of this beautiful woman.

She wasn’t there yet, so I kneeled down behind her, and started to work on her love knob. I could taste my cum and the remains of her pee. It was beautiful. She shivered all over the body, and within one minute she had a stunning orgasm. Her knees shivered, and I could feel all of her body tremble with excitement.

“OOOOoooooohhhhh, I’m coming, I’m coming”, she cried out in the room. We both knew that we could get very much into trouble if we stayed any longer in the men’s room, so we hurried out of the room. She didn’t get her soaked briefs off, but simply pulled down the leather skirt over the wet underwear, and went out of the cubicle.

As we hurried up the stairs she told me that her name was Linda, and I told her my name. Of course I didn’t let Linda walk out of my life, but I’ll tell you more about that later.

Another Female Desperation Story

October 13th, 2008 / No Comments » / by admin