My relationship with Julia Hayward looked set to last a lifetime, but after almost two years, we parted. It was her choice; she got involved with her boss and the firm where she worked in London, and little by little she drifted away from me. I was extremely sorry to lose her because she and I shared a lot, not least my passion for female desperation coupled with a bit of bondage here and there.

      During my relationship with Julia, I had discovered that her mother Amanda, a nicely-preserved forty-three-year-old, also had a fascinations for being in circumstances where she was forced to hold on to a full bladder. She had even peed in my car once when I'd picked her up from the railway station in Winchester to take her home, her car having broken down that day and a series of unfortunate events led to her being desperate for the loo for hours.

      As a Christmas present for Amanda, whose husband (who had also taken off with someone else after several decades with her) had no interest in affairs of the bladder, Julia once tied her mother up in her bedroom while Amanda needed to pee, and left her there for me to find and help... or not, as it turned out. It was quite fascinating having these two women in my life who were interested in getting desperate; it was something I'd always dreamt about and never expected to every find one interested woman, still less two.

      Once my relationship with Julia ended, I put my bondage and desperation games on hold. After all, it's not easy to broach the subject with a new girlfriend, since most of them would go running at the first hint of perversion. During the first four months of my new and free existence, I dated fairly often, but none of the relationships held any promise in that direction. I was starting to think all that stuff was behind me when, one afternoon in late May when I was at home on vacation, the phone rang. I recognized the voice of the caller when I answered it, but for a few moments I couldn't place who she was.

      "Dave? Is that you?"

      "Who--?" I began, then the penny dropped, to use a vaguely lavatorial term. "Amanda?" I asked.

      "Yes, it's me. How are you?" she asked.

      I was taken-aback by the call because I hadn't expected to hear from any of Julia's family again, least of all her mother. "I...um, I'm okay," I said guardedly.

      "That's more than I can say for my daughter," she replied. "I think the new love of her life is not quite what she expected him to be."

      Was she calling on Julia's behalf, I wondered, perhaps trying to smooth the way for some kind of reconciliation? "It was her choice," I said a little sourly.

      "Oh yes, I know," Amanda answered quickly. "I'm not making excuses for her. I think she's been a fool."

      I was about to ask her why she was calling when she resumed, anticipating my question, "However, I'm not calling about to talk about her. My car has broken down on the A2 about thirty miles from you, and the rescue services won't be here for several hours, even though I am considered high priority because I'm alone. So, I was wondering if you would be an angel and come and collect me so that I don't have to spend the rest of the day and half the night sitting on the roadside in middle of nowhere?"

      "Of course," I agreed at once. "I don't like the idea of you being stranded on your own."

      "Thanks Dave," she said, sounding genuinely relieved. "You're a love. I hope you don't mind my asking you?"

      "Not at all. It'll be great to see you again."

      "Likewise. Oh, and there is one more thing," she added. "There's nothing out here; no services and absolutely no cover, and I need to go to the loo, so you sooner you can get here the better."

      I felt my penis stiffen at once as I imagined her sitting in her car, almost certainly dressed up to the nines which was her usual style, and struggling with a full bladder. I'd get there fast alright. "I'll hurry," I told her.

      "Thank you," she said. "And with any luck, I won't do a repeat performance when I'm in your car."

      I wondered briefly if she was deliberately trying to excite me, knowing all about my predilection for desperate women. Intentional or not, her words electrified my nerve endings and I couldn't wait to have her sitting beside me in my car, legs crossed and fighting to hold on to a full bladder until I got her back to my house. Trying to keep my voice calm, I said, "Don't worry about it. I'm sure you'll make it."

      After a short silence, she said, "I don't know, Dave. I've already been waiting for a while and I'm already in a bad way."

      "Okay, I'm leaving now. Give me your number and I'll call you back on my cell for directions."

      She gave me the number and broke the connection. I raced out to my new Range Rover and set off towards the A2, and my rendezvous with an attractive woman who badly needed to pee. What made it really exciting was that there were no service stops along that particular stretch of motorway close to the turn-off to Wycliffe, which meant Amanda really would have to wait until I got her home. With the pubs were shut at this time of day, that left only petrol stations as a possible solution; as I drove, I tried to map out a route that would bypass as many of them as possible.

      It took thirty minutes for me to reach Amanda. I saw her BMW on the shoulder of the opposing lanes, and used the nearest exit to cross over and pull up behind her. I saw her head turn. She hesitated; she hadn't seen the Range Rover before, and wasn't sure who this was. Then I climbed out, and almost at once she opened her door and climbed out to greet me.

      As I'd hoped, she was beautifully dressed; all in white, another of her things. I couldn't believe what she was wearing: an off-the-shoulder top and a white skirt that stopped a good six inches short of her knees. She was even wearing a pair of white gloves, presumably for driving, and a pair of white high heels which hardly seemed the best footwear for driving. Coupled with her shoulder-length hair, naturally blonde but now dyed a reddish-brown color, this ensemble made Amanda Hayward look a decade younger than her years. She was utterly stunning.

      "Dave," she said as we came together, and she wrapped her arms around me, and I could feel that she was moving her legs as we stood there. "Oh, am I glad to see you. I've had two offers of help from some leery-looking creatures."

      "And you think you're safe with me?" I asked.

      "No," she said, smirking, "but at least you're not a creature. Now, we must make haste because I am absolutely dying to go to the loo."

      "Right," I agreed and turned towards the Range Rover.

      "Wait. My bags are in the boot. Would you be a love?" She held out her keys.

      "Okay. You get in," I indicated the Rover, and she walked quickly to the passenger's door. I hauled out the two suitcases she had in the boot, locked up the car and then carried them to the back of the Rover. They were heavy; probably packed solid with clothes.

      When I climbed onto the driver's seat, I found Amanda with her legs crossed and jiggling up and down on her seat. "Oh God," she exclaimed. "I'm really bursting for the loo. I don't know how far we'll get before I have to go."

      "What about the AA, or whoever you called?" I asked as if I had not heard her. "How will they get into your car."

      "I've already told them where to find the spare under the wheel arch," she explained.

      "You know, any thief worth his salt would look there."

      "I know, but what can one do? Anyway, I can't hang around waiting for them. I really need the loo. How long will it take to reach your house?"

      "About half an hour, maybe a bit longer."

      "That long?" Amanda pulled a pained expression. "Put your foot down then, Dave. Every minute counts."

      I took the Rover up to eighty until we reached the A-road turn-off for Wycliffe, then had to drop it down to fifty. Amanda continued to fidget, most of the time cross and re-crossing her legs, and bouncing her knees up and down between the changeovers. She was desperate to go alright, and I had trouble keeping my mind on my driving.

      At one point, catching me eyeing her wiggling thighs, she reached over and rested a hand on my leg, saying, "I imagine you're pretty turned on by my predicament?"

      "To say the least," I admitted. "Sorry."

      "Don't be," she said. "You know I like to play those games too, just not when I'm this desperate. I've been holding it in for hours and the pain is driving me to distraction."

      "Well, look, if you have to go in the car, it's okay," I suggested.

      "I'd rather not. This skirt's an Armani," she explained. I took that to mean that it cost more than I made in a week, or perhaps even a month!

      A few minutes later, we passed a sign which said Wycliffe was eight miles away. Reading it, Amanda groaned and rocked back and forth on her seat a couple of times. "Oh God, I'm never going to make it Dave. I'm almost peeing myself now!"

      I looked over at her lap again and found her pressing her hands down over her groin, her skirt preventing her from actually reaching between her legs. I considered suggesting that she pull her skirt up so that she could use her fingers to hold herself, but it felt just a little too familiar, even though Amanda and I had enjoyed a very close encounter the previous Christmas.

      My house was still between five and ten minutes away when Amanda let out a particularly load moan. "Oh, oh, oh!" she gasped, and I could see that she was squeezing her thighs together very hard now. I glanced at her face and found she had her eyes squeezed shut and her lips pursed as if she were about to kiss someone. She sat there rocking her torso back and forth while lifting the toes of her boots into the air and pivoting her legs on her heels. The sight of her struggling so intensely drove me so wild that I couldn't prevent myself reaching over and laying a hand on her quivering right thigh.

      Amanda opened her eyes and looked first down at my hand then up at me. "Oh my God, that was so close," she announced. "If it happens again, I won't be able to control it."

      I squeezed her thigh for a moment, then rubbed my hand up and down her leg, savouring the feel of her smooth thigh and the way her thigh muscles were flexing as she wiggled. My eyes wanted to roll back inside my head.

      "Enjoying yourself?" Amanda asked me drolly after a few more seconds of this inappropriate behaviour.

      "You're driving me wild," I admitted candidly. "God, Amanda, you are just so... sexy."

      She smiled at this, then her features twisted into a grimace and she abruptly crossed her legs, her left thigh coming down on top of my fingers and pinching them between her legs inside the fold of her skirt. I didn't even try to extricate them; I just drove one handed, my attention divided between Amanda's urgent gyrations and the road ahead. I had slowed down as it was and other drivers were crowding up impatiently behind me, but I didn't dare go any faster, not while I was so acutely distracted.

      I nearly missed the turn onto the road leading into Wycliffe village, and I had to perform a sharp maneuvre which earned me a few blasts on somebody's horn. Realizing what was going on, Amanda withdrew my hand and placed it back on the steering wheel. I looked at her face as she leaned close to me for a moment, noting the beads of perspiration on her brow. Her expression looked totally distracted, which suggested she was very close indeed now to pissing herself.

      "Nearly there," I told her, hoping it would give her fresh hope. She nodded abstractedly but didn't say anything. Her right knee was now bouncing up and down rapidly, and I could hear her boot heel tapping hard on the floor. Her fingers were literally clawing at her skirt where she longed to pull it up and tear her panties down before it was too late. I wondered if she had already started to leak into those panties.

      After what must have seemed an eternity to Amanda, I turned onto my road and pulled up outside the house. I climbed out and hurried round to open Amanda's door for her. Her expression was tense as I helped her out of the Rover and led her to the garden gate. She was taking small steps, clearly trying not to jolt her badly-distended bladder.

      She hobbled along the garden path to the front door. She stood on the step performing the most elaborate pee dance I had ever seen, ignoring what the neighbours would think if they saw her.

      Realizing that I was just standing there watching her instead of unlocking the door, Amanda turned fraught eyes on me. "Let me in," she demanded, squeezing the words out of a tight throat. "I've got to get to the loo before I explode."

      I suddenly had an idea. I advanced and took hold of her glove right hand. "No, you'll have to hold it," I said, even though she was running on the spot and clearly couldn't. "Come on," I urged, dragging her in the direction of the garage.

      Amanda bent forward as I dragged her down the steps, pulling against my grip as she plunged her free hand between her thighs. "Oooooohh! Where are we going? Oh, oh, oh! I can't wait. Please let me into the house, Dave. Pleeease!"

      My penis was so rigid by this time that it felt like all the veins inside it would explode at any moment, just like poor Amanda's bladder. Part of me wanted to let her go and gain the relief she so badly craved, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The opportunity was just too wonderful to pass up. Besides, hadn't she essentially lured me into this situation anyway?

      Ignoring her protests, I pulled her in through the door on the side of the garage, and over to where I kept a coil of rope on the wall. Staring aghast at the coil of rope, Amanda made a straining noise and crossed her legs, again bending at the waist.

      "Dave, no. I can't let you. I'm so incredibly desperate."

      "You don't have any choice," I countered, leading her through into the house and thence to the kitchen where we could not be overlooked by any of the neighboring houses. I forced Amanda's writhing body down onto the wooden bench I sometimes used at the breakfast table when I had guests. As soon as I relaxed my hold on her a little to uncoil the rope, Amanda tried to stand up and make a run for it. I pressed my hands firmly on her shoulders and made her sit down again.

      She quickly crossed her legs and rocked back and forth as she pleased, "Oh Dave, please! I have to go! It's almost coming out! Oh! Oh! Ohhh! God, I can't hoooold it. I - I ca-can't!"

      "Yes you can," I insisted. "Now, put your hands together in front of you."

      "No! You have to let me go before I wet myself."

      "No, Amanda. I want you to hold it!"

      She went on protesting, tugging against my attentions. I contrived to coil the rope above her elbows, next around her wrists, then her thighs and finally around her ankles, all without having to cut it. While I was working on restraining her, Amanda constantly gasped and moaned as she fought with her distressed bladder. She had waited for a long time in her broken-down BMW on the side of the M2, and then in the Rover as I drove her back to the house. She had to be going out of her mind with desperation, and probably wanted nothing more than to scream abuse at me. But she didn't; I had to admire her self-control.

      I was just tying off the rope behind her ankles when I heard the first hiss of pee escaping into her knickers. It lasted for a second or so before the clamped it off. Her face was contorted with the effort of stemming the flow, and kneeling there before her, I could see the film of sweat on her brow, and the way her cheeks and upper lip glistened with moisture. Seeing it made me appreciate the colossal strain that she was under.

      Amanda shook her head from side to side, eye closed, trying to move her bound hands to her crotch, but she couldn't because I'd anchored them to her thighs just above her knees. She could use her hands, she couldn't cross her legs; all she could do was sit there and rock her body back and forth.

      I place a hand on each of her knees, gripping them firmly. At first, I could only feel her legs trembling, then as a fresh spasm from her bladder threatened to overwhelm her, she began bouncing her knees, her heels tapping on the tiled floor.

      "Oh Dave, please. I must go," she gasped. "Got to go now. Now!"

      "Try to wait a bit longer," I whispered, my penis pulsing inside my jeans and only moments away from ejaculation.

      She resumed shaking her head, pinching her lips into a thin line as she went on struggling. That was when the second hiss came from between her clenched thighs, this one more protracted. She clamped it off for a second, but then the enormous pressure of her distended bladder forced her to start peeing again.

      The hiss grew louder as she completely lost control. Amanda made a strangled noise in her throat as she made one last attempt to stop wetting herself, but clearly she couldn't, not this time. I felt as if fire were burning its way up the inside of my penis, then sperm erupted into my pants and for a few moments, my vision fogged. I was in heaven.

      I smelt the sharp tang of urine a moment before it fountained through the front of her skirt. I felt her leg muscles relax as pee streamed across the seat of the chair and began spilling over the sides onto the floor, most of it finding its way to the front where I was sitting. I didn't move; I just sat there holding on to her knees as she wet herself.

      Amanda's features relaxed and she sighed heavily, her whole body sagging as the tremendous strain of keeping so much pee inside her gradually subsided. I relaxed along with her as my ejaculation spent itself. Talk about timing!

      By the time Amanda had finished, I was sitting in an extensive pool of her pee. She sat there with her head hung, eyes closed, no longer struggling. She was, quite obviously, savoring the relief of having emptied her tortured bladder.

      It must have been another minute before she finally spoke. She blew out her cheeks and looked down at me sitting at her feet, drenched in her pee. "I'm not sure which one of us is the biggest mess," she observed. "Perhaps you'd be good enough to untie me now, then I think we had better make use of your bathroom."