During my first long vacation at training college, I joined a group of college acquaintances on a coach trip to Greece. We took the ferry to Zeebruge, where we joined the coach that was to be our home for the next 3 days.
It was not the luxury coach I had hoped for, but an old Greek coach which didn't even have a loo, potentially a disaster for me. I hoped that I had not drunk too much coffee and fruit juice at breakfast, and that there would be frequent stops, on the first morning at least, until I could dehydrate myself enough to survive longer trips.
We left Zeebruge at 7 o'clock and true to form, by 8 o'clock I was needing a pee rather badly. Crossing my legs did not do much to ease the need, so I tucked one leg under me and pressed my heel into my crutch, my favourite waiting position and I could sit like this for an hour or more without getting cramp if I had to. I convinced myself that there would be an early stop, say at 9 o'clock and then a longer journey until a lunch break at about 12 o'clock. I would be able to hold out from peeing until 9 o'clock, even if my bladder was bursting and if I didn't drink any more then, I could make it to lunch time without straining my bladder too much.
Before 9 o'clock we turned onto a motor-way with a service area indicated a mere 10 Km ahead, but to my despair, we went straight past this one and I am sure that my need to pee went up a level as we passed the slip-road and the 'Toilets' sign. There was no indication of how far the next toilets were, so I just had to squirm about on my heel to get into the most comfortable position to hold out a bit longer. This moving about on the seat, together with the odd groan as I struggled with a particularly urgent moment, attracted the attention of Sue, sitting next to me. I think she thought that I might be coach-sick, as she asked if I was OK, offered to direct the cold air vent in my direction and looked in the seat pocket for a sick-bag. She was a well-built, very organised girl, but not one of my close friends.
Smiling wanely, I said I was fine, then changed my mind and decided that as we were going to be together for the next 3 days, I might as well tell her the truth: 'Actually, I'm bursting to pee, I need a toilet. I was praying that we would stop at that last service area and thinking about it has made it worse.' We've only been going about 2 hours,' Sue replied, 'I don't think we are due to stop yet. Do you need to pee really bad?'
We passed another service area at about 9:45, by which time I was getting really desperate to pee and I was wondering how much longer I would have to hold on. Soon after 10 o'clock, I felt I was reaching my limit and decided that I had to get the driver to stop at the next service area or my bladder was going to burst and I'd wet my panties in the coach. I was wearing the normal student 'uniform' of very tight jeans and T-shirt. The pressure of these jeans on my bladder was making me want to pee even more and I was wishing I had worn a skirt. It took a lot of effort to hold my pee back when I walked up the coach and asked the driver if he could 'Please, please, stop at the next service area, as I needed the toilet rather badly.' I could not believe it when he told me that he could not stop, as he had to keep to a strict schedule and only stop at designated places. We were not due to stop for some time yet, so I would have to wait for the toilet. I tried pleading with him, saying that my need was urgent and that I would be very quick, but he just sniffed and turned away.
When I returned to my seat, Susan wanted to know why I had been talking to the driver, so I had to admit to her that I was now absolutely bursting to pee. She was concerned that I should want to go so badly already, as she didn' t think that the coach was due to stop until lunch, in two hours time. They had been given this schedule when they had booked the trip, but as I had joined at the last minute, I had not seen it. I really could not believe this, but as the coach drove past yet another service area, I realised that the driver was not going to take pity on me and make an unofficial stop.
I was squirming about, trying to push my heel into my crutch as hard as I could, as I really had reached desperation level. Half an hour later and I felt I was about to break down and pee in my panties. I held on to the seat and tried to pull myself onto my heel, so it was harder against my crutch. This helped a bit and tensing my body as I did this, also eased the frantic urge a little. The worrying thing was that these were 'last resort' tactics to hold out and there was still more than an hour before we were due to stop. However much I wanted to wait, I simply could not keep up this level of effort for more than ten minutes, let alone an hour.
The thought of actually breaking down and wetting my panties was horrifying. Everyone in the coach would see what had happened and I was going to be spending the next 3 weeks with some of them. Not only that, I had another two years at college and I knew that such an event would be recounted when the next term started. Also, the coach was full, so if I soaked the seat with my pee, I was going to have to sit on it for another 2 days and unless the driver unloaded our luggage, wear the wet jeans and panties. Somehow, I simply had to fight this frantic urge and make myself wait.
I had virtually reached the limit of controlling myself by discretely sitting on my heel, so, as the only thing that mattered was waiting, I slipped my hand between my legs and used my heel to help me press my fingers hard against my crutch for a minute or so, until the urgent need to pee was reduced to a more bearable level. I repeated this several times when the urgency was reaching frantic levels, but each time I was having to keep my hand there longer. Susan noticed what I was doing and asked if I was 'really desperate.' She obviously didn't understand what it was like to have a small bladder like mine, as I had been really desperate for ages and had reached the frantic stage. What on earth did she think I had holding my crutch for, except as a last resort to avoid wetting my panties. I told her that it was so bad that that the only way I was going to be able to wait was to keep holding myself. When she realised just what a state I was in, she suggested that I change seats with her and sit by the window, so nobody else could see me holding myself. Once I had moved, I changed from sitting on my foot to crossing my legs tightly and pressing my hand hard against my crutch. Susan also gave me a magazine to cover my lap, as I was holding myself all the time.
Half an hour later my bladder was so full it was hurting, but I was still holding on. Susan told me to unzip my jeans, which did ease the pain and make some reduction in the desperate need to go. I could feel the hard, tender, bulge of my swollen bladder, showing just how full it was.
The rest of the morning was a blur of agony and desperation, which seemed to last forever, as I fought with all my might to keep my bladder under control. Slowly I was becoming more and more desperate and all I could do was try to cross my legs tighter and to press harder on my pee hole with my fingers. I was using both hands now to get more pressure, telling myself that I just had to wait and that I was absolutely not going to let any pee leak out, no matter how full my bladder was. Sue was whispering encouragement to me, telling me to hang on, it would not be much longer, just a few more minutes. Several times I thought that I could not wait another minute and it was only her encouragement that kept me from giving up and wetting myself. My bladder now was so painfully swollen that even my panties were hurting it, so I had one hand inside them, holding the elastic away and pressing directly against my fanny. I was trying every trick I knew to keep my pee back and I didn't care if anyone could see what I was doing. I twisted my legs together as tightly as it was possible to.
I used both hands to get the maximum possible pressure right on my pee hole, so it would be impossible for anything to leak out. I doubled over to press even harder, then I would straighten up, so there was less pressure on my bladder. Several times I thought that I was going to leak into my panties, but somehow I kept control, gritting my teeth with the effort required. I was groaning in desperation and Sue was so worried about me that she went and pleaded with the driver to stop the coach so I could pee before I damaged myself. He told her that we were due to stop in about 30 minutes and he was not stopping before that. At least now I had some target to aim at, though I was almost in tears with the thought of having to wait that long.
Somehow I held out, both hands pressing between my legs with all my might, shuddering with the effort of waiting and whimpering with desperation. Sue was wonderful, putting her arm round me, pleading with me to somehow manage to hang on a bit longer, telling me we were nearly there. We were approaching another service area and this had to be the one we would stop at. I was counting off the kilometres, telling myself that I just had to hold it a few minutes longer and then, at last, we were slowing down and pulling off the motorway. 'We must park near the Ladies', I told Sue, 'I can't possibly walk very far in this state.' Sue told me to do up only the top button of my jeans, in case the zip put an unbearable pressure on my swollen bladder.
We finally stopped about 50 yards from the main buildings where the toilets were. I tried to walk normally, but I had only just got off the coach when I felt my bladder starting to give way and regardless of who could see, I had to hold between my legs with both hands again. Sue saw me almost stop, twisting my legs together in desperation and holding myself and took command, half dragging and half carrying me to the Ladies. I don't think I could possibly have walked across that car park without her help; I would have broken down and wet my panties on the way. Sue virtually carried me into the nearest cubicle and pushed me towards the loo while she locked the door behind us. I was almost leaking as I pulled down my jeans and panties, still keeping one hand pressed right against my fanny. The first spurt of pee came out before I was sitting on the loo and then I could relax and let the pee all pour out. What a wonderful relief after waiting so long! The most incredible high pressure jet of pee I have ever done blasted into the loo, showing just how full my bladder was. Eventually the pressure reduced to normal level, but I seemed to be going for ages, again showing how badly I had needed to go. I had made it and somehow managed to keep my panties dry, suffering nothing worse than an aching bladder. Before we left the cubicle, I hugged Sue with thanks, because I would never have managed to wait without her help and encouragement. She had incredible capacity, as even after five hours in the coach, she did not want to pee at all. While we were washing our hands several other girls came out of the cubicles, making remarks like; 'Oh what a relief, I though we were never going to stop.' 'I was absolutely flat out, pee was almost coming out of my ears I was so full.' 'That feels so much better, it was like the relief of Mafeking.'
I had put my little bladder under so much strain that I had stomach ache all the afternoon and even though I did not drink a drop at lunch, I was on my heel, my bladder absolutely bursting when we stopped again in the late afternoon. After that I became sufficiently dehydrated not to need to pee so often and reached Athens without any more desperate peeing incidents. Coming back, I knew what to expect and hardly drank anything for 24 hours before the bus left, becoming so dehydrated I hardly needed a toilet at all.
Nicola