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Bus Trip Part 3: Desperation The bus doesn’t leave. The driver gets out without a word and we are left sitting in the sweltering bus. I began to squirm in my seat, my bladder starting to send urgent “you’ve got to pee” messages. I look over my shoulder, searching for the bathroom. It’s about ten rows back. Every aisle seat is filled and I didn’t look forward to another walk of shame. Reluctantly, I get out of my seat and excuse myself, “sorry, sister, I need to slip past.” “Are you getting off?” she asks. Not yet said the little devil on my shoulder. “I just need to pee.” Once again I squeeze by her, my nylon clad ass in her face, my face hot and red. Slowly I gingerly make my way down the aisle, the steel dildos poking my distended bladder. I keep my eyes down, but I can still feel the stares and hear the judgmental whispers. I get to the bathroom only to find it locked, with an “out of order” sign taped to the door. Someone sniggers as I try to press my thighs together in desperation. I turn and start towards the front of the bus, hoping that I can hold it until I get to the bathroom, but it was not to be. Just before I reach the front of the bus, I can feel a little trickle of pee run down my leg. I start running, the dildos inside me making the situation even more desperate. As soon as I start to step down the stairs the trickle becomes a gush and I jump for it, and then squat there by the side of the bus, urine, blocked by the chastity belt, sprays everywhere. People turn and stare, others point and say, “mom, she’s peeing her pants.” The homeless men cheer. I start to cry. |
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Damn, what a fucking ordeal!! Let’s set up an easier trip to Reno, and save the ordeal fun for the hotel, after you’ve arrived quickly and safely.
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