Traffic during the Christmas holiday was always hell. Jen sighed, looking at herwatch, stuck in the middle left lane on the interstate as traffic crawled along. HerHonda Accord looked like an ant in the middle of an ant farm, insignificant whenviewed from above. Another three exits ahead and she'd be at the airport, shethought, running late as usual. The airlines had been saying to get to the airporttwo hours early because of all the increased security, and she wasn't going tomake that.
"Oh well, they probably are making it out worse than it really is," Jen spoke outloud, to nobody in particular. Traffic stopped again. Jen turned down the heat inthe car. It was a decent day for once and not as cold as usual. The dry car heatmade her thirsty, so she finished up the last of her liter of bottled water.Along with the traffic jam and the impending flight, Jen really needed to use thebathroom; she had rushed out of the house without thinking, her bladder alreadyfilling from the water she drank during her aerobics class earlier that morning.
"Come on, Come on people, lets go," Jen sighed out loud to herself, feeling herbladder tense up as it swelled further. First order of business, she thought, was toget to a ladies room when she got in the terminal building, as she was starting tofeel uncomfortable sitting there with her bladder filling by the minute. She shiftedher position in the seat to try and decrease some of the discomfort and silentlywondered how long it had been since she used the bathroom.
"Oh my God, I haven't been since before class, and that was two hours ago," Jensilently pondered, mindlessly starting on another bottle of water without thinking ofthe situation. Traffic started to move again, and her mood improved. Two moreexits to go, park the car, get to the terminal, and find a restroom... and quickly.She clenched her knees together slightly at a pang of pressure as her bladder'sdiscomfort grew more. With one hand on the steering wheel she used her freehand and lightly smoothed out the fabric of her light gray business slacks alongher thigh. She almost had the desire to grasp her crotch with her free hand buttried to keep her mind off her impending desperation to find a bathroom. Onemore exit to go. Traffic was crawling, but still moving.
"Ok, almost there, almost there. I gotta pee, I gotta pee!" Jen said out loud,feeling all the sillier talking to herself. Her bladder was demanding relief now,swollen with the near half gallon of water she had drank between aerobics classand now. She got off the exit only to find a jam of cars heading onto the off ramp.She clenched her legs together, trying not to think about the increasingly painfulpressure of her abdomen. She had to really go, and was consciously aware nowof how bad she had to use the bathroom.
"God, please don't make me wet my pants right here, please God, please," Jenmumbled to no one in particular. Finally she arrived at the long-term parking lot.Driving around the lot trying to find an empty space on the holiday weekend wasan ordeal. Every minute that went by just increased the fullness Jen was feeling.Finally she found a spot in a far corner. She locked up, and immediately uponstanding up out of the car felt the immense fullness of her swollen bladder.Standing up was much worse. Jen had to go pee, very badly and right away.Putting her jacket on, she opened the trunk, got her bag out, and headed to thebus stop to catch the shuttle to the airport. The cooler wind didn't help. Jen pacedback and forth in the bus shelter, fully realizing how badly she needed to relieveherself. How she wished there was a bathroom out here, she thought, but thenrealized how silly that would be. Just a few more minutes, and she'd be inside theterminal, head to the bathroom and could finally release the torment of pee thathad been building up the past few hours, she thought.
The bus slowly appeared in sight, and finally made its rounds to the bus stopwhere Jen anxiously waited. She boarded the crowded bus, took a seat in theback, and subconsciously pressed her thighs together in an effort to relieve thepressure. She patted down the smooth thin fabric of her light gray silvery coloredslacks, fitting somewhat tightly against her body. She unbuttoned her jacket,showing her lime green blouse and her moderate boobs off a bit as the cold airoutside stimulated her nipples. Jen felt trapped, sitting there in the back of the buswith a throbbing bladder, desperate to get to a bathroom. When the bus went overthe speed bumps on the road leading to the terminal building, the shock causedher to gasp suddenly as her bladder shrieked in revolt, almost losing control.Clenching her muscles, she looked out the window as the bus moved inseemingly slow motion to the terminal building. She had to pee so badly; shecould hardly concentrate on anything but her desperation.
"Terminal 1. USAir, Southwest, United", the bus driver yelled. Jen stood up, againfeeling the massive increase in her bladder pressure when she stood, againaware of how acutely desperate she was to pee, and quickly walked off the buswith her bag while heading rapidly into the terminal building with the aim ofimmediately finding a bathroom before she wet her pants.
"Bathroom. Bathroom. Bathroom," Jen thought silently to herself, totally desperatenow. 30 years old and acting like a desperate 13 year old, Jen scanned theterminal area and in shock noticed the long line for the security checkpoint. Shelooked at her watch and knew she'd barely make her flight, but also knew that shewas on the verge of having a huge accident in her pants at any minute and HADto find a bathroom, NOW. Heading towards the end of the security line, Jen didnot see any restrooms.
"Where the hell are the bathrooms?" she spoke under her breath, struggling withthe burning sensation in her abdomen as the walking and standing made herbladders struggle worse. She approached the security guard near the end of thelong line through security.
"Hi, excuse me, can you tell me where the restrooms are please?" Jen pleadedwith the officer.
"I'm sorry madam, due to the security restrictions; the ones in the waiting areaare closed. You can find the men's and woman's restrooms once you passsecurity in the gate area."
Jen looked in disbelief at the officer. "You mean there's nothing up here?" Thepitch of her voice was rising as her bladder's desperation increased.
"No madam, even the ones in baggage are closed. Don't worry; the line looksworse than it is. It's only about a 45 minute wait through the checkpoint", theofficer replied, not really noticing Jens look of panic on her face.
"Oh my God, 45 minutes", Jen thought in panic, not sure she could hold out thatlong. But she didn't seem to have any options, so she took her place in line, puther bag down, and paced nervously trying not to think of her totally swollenbladder. She distinctly felt the stinging pressure as her pee filled it to capacityeven more. She hadn't had to pee this bad since she had an accident in danceclass as a young teenager, and worried that she could not hold on until she got tothe gate area.
"God, please, let me hold on," she silently prayed to herself. By clenching herlegs together and bending forward slightly, she managed to reduce the pain a bitto make it manageable, but each time she had to walk, it seemed like the entireburden of her distended bladder worsened, bringing her ever closer to the pointwhere she would no longer be able to control her bodily functions. The thought ofbeing 30 years old and wetting herself terrified her. She remembered peeing inher dance clothes 15 years ago and shuddered at the thought of having anaccident as an adult. Worse yet, guys were checking her out. At 5'7 and areasonable size 6 wearing somewhat tight fitting thin slacks; Jen wasn't bad tolook at. Her darkish almost auburn red hair, a fine texture and shoulder lengthglowed in the interior lighting. The light freckles on her skin made her anappealing subject in the female race, although she certainly wasn't a model oranything. Her nipples, stimulated by the sheer desperation in her bladder, pokedthrough her thin bra against the fine thin fabric of her blouse, which was a bittight fitting itself. Amazingly, fifteen minutes passed, and Jen still was able tocontrol her bodies' incredible urge to void the bladder. Oh, how she had to pee.Every step was torture. Her womanhood was clenched shut as she valiantly triedto maintain her dignity, each step and each passing minute reaching further tothe loss of control she feared. Her bladder would be fine, and then throbincessantly, causing ..(continue confession)
