Written by David North

      I'd known Linda Balfour a little more than a year before her husband's affair with another woman drove her into my arms.

      We began the evening as friends, she pouring out her soul to me over drink in a pub she had never been to with Don, the cheater. She told me all about his infidelity stretching back more than eighteen months; this at least was the time she was aware of it, and she readily conceded that it had probably started long before that.

      Personally, I thought Don a total idiot. Linda was an attractive woman of twenty-six, with a head of flowing chestnut hair, soulful eyes and an faintly embarrassed smile which gave her an air of innocence. An unusual mixture of confidence and humility, I found her personality, as well as her looks, compelling.

      It was she who suggested we spend the night together, and I was not at all averse to the idea because I'd fantasized about it often enough. We took a room at the Inn where we were drinking, since neither of us was fit to drive by this time, and crawled between freshly-laundered sheets that smelled faintly of lavender. A fragrance that always reminded me of my grandmother. It was oddly comforting.

      Linda was in a vulnerable state, and despite being badly intoxicated, she made a half-hearted attempt to give me what she thought I wanted -- sex. I surprised her, and myself a little, by merely wrapping my arms around her and holding her. She started to cry, sobbing against my bare shoulder, until, after ten or fifteen minutes, she fell asleep.

      When morning came, her demeanour was quite different. She said her marriage could not be salvaged, and she roused me to a state where the sex was amazing. After the act, I started to get up to go for a pee when she pulled me back down on top of her.

      "Er um. Tim," Linda said, clearing her throat.

      "What?"

      Where do you think you're going?"

      "To take a leak," I informed her.

      "Oh, no you don't," she said, closing her fingers around my penis. "You're staying right here."

      "Yeah?"

      "Oh yeah. I haven't finished with you yet."

      "I haven't finished with you either, but I would really like to do something about my bladder first."

      "Hold it," she commanded.

      "What are you doing?" I started to object, then made myself shut-up as she grabbed hold of my penis and squeezed it.

      "Helping you keep it in," she replied.

      She stroked my foreskin for a minute, and then dragged me on top of her and thrust my erection deep inside her. The knowledge that I was holding a full bladder seemed to excite her, if the sheer violence of her orgasm and the accompanying noise was anything to go by. I wondered if this little trick would work in reverse, and contemplated trying it out on her when the situation arose.

      A few days later, we were in a the bedroom together again, this time in a London hotel room where we were staying after attending the theatre. She complained that she needed to pee and started towards the en-suite bathroom.

      "Don't," I said, halting her mid-stride. "I'd like to make love to you while you're holding a full bladder."

      She inclined her head and gave me a smile of mock-modesty. "Why, sir, I do declare. What a thing to suggest to a lady."

      I opened my mouth to frame a retort, then decided to drag her down onto the bed instead. She giggled as we landed, then gasped as I stretched my arm across her hips, my bicep applying pressure to her abdomen. "Oh, oh, oh! Not too hard. I really need to go."

      "The fuller the better," I told her, resorting to rubbing her abdomen, an act that applied rather less pressure than before, but definitely disturbing her equilibrium.

      She grabbed at my hand to stop it moving. "Stop!" she commanded. "If you keep doing that, you won't have a chance to have me before I pee myself."

      We wasted no time. We quickly undressed one another, taking it in turns to remove a garment until we were both naked. We dropped into bed, and after just a few minutes of foreplay, I entered her and felt her tense as the head of my penis collided with her bladder wall. It was tight and taking up a lot of space, confirming that she was in urgent need of relief.

      "Be gentle," she pleaded. "Oh! Please, you have to go easy or I'll burst."

      "I'm trying, but the urge to thrust hard is almost irresistible."

      "Well, resist it, or I'll piss on the bed."

      I really didn't care about the bed. I thrust hard inside her. At once, she jerked violently, and I felt hot liquid spilling onto my penis and testicles.

      "You sod," Linda gasped. "You squashed it out of me."

      "You never stood a chance of hanging on until we were finished," I pointed out.

      "I know," she admitted. "You could have given me more time to reach a climax though."

      I felt chagrined. "I really couldn't help myself, Lin. I'm sorry."

      "It's okay, but next time I want a lot of attention before you have your wicked way."

      "Agreed."

      I kept my promise the next time we made love...and the time after that.

      Our relationship flourished, although I didn't ask her for sex with a full bladder again. I knew I would in time, and I hoped she would do it to me too.

      About a month after this, we arranged a weekday shopping trip from Didcot into Oxford, a drive of about an hour on the back roads. Linda took her car and did the driving, which was fine with me. Any time I could spend in a car without sitting behind the wheel was fine with me.

      On the journey up to Oxford, we chatted about all kinds of things, but mostly about our plans to move in together in the near future. About halfway through the journey, during a lull in the conversation, I decided to revisit our shared pee fetish.

      "Lin."

      "Mmm?"

      "Remember the time you prevented me going to the loo and we had sex?"

      She glanced at me, momentarily disconcerted by the switch in topic. She turned her attention back to the road to deal with a bus which had just pulled out in front of us, then nodded. "Of course," she said. "I also remember the occasion soon after that when you stopped me visiting the loo and we had sex while I was holding a full bladder."

      "Yes. I really enjoyed that," I said eagerly, the memory suddenly vivid.

      "I would never have guessed," she said, shooting me a smile. "What makes you bring that up now?" she wanted to know.

      I considered for a moment, then plunged in. "If I ask you not to visit the loo while we're out today, would you hold your pee for me?"

      Her smile faltered. "I don't know. How long would I have to wait for the loo?"

      I decided to push my luck. "Until we get back to my place."

      Her eyes widening. "But that's hours away."

      "I know."

      She fell silent for a minute, thinking over my proposition. At last, she said, "Normally, I would do it," she began, and my heart sank at her words. "The problem is, I already need the loo."

      "Really," I exclaimed, my hopes rising with giddying speed.

      "No need to sound quite so enthusiastic about it," she said, unable to stop herself grinning at my over-the-top reaction.

      "Sorry," I said, and made myself keep quiet as she resumed speaking.

      "If I can visit the loo when we get to Oxford, then perhaps I'll try it," she said. "But I can't wait all day if I'm starting with a pretty full bladder. I wouldn't last another hour."

      "Oh," I said.

      "Oh dear," Linda said. "From euphoria to disappointment in the space of a single breath."

      "No, no. I'm not disappointed. I think it's wonderful that you're prepared to do this at all, so of course I agree to your terms."

      Linda nodded, slowing down as the lights ahead turned amber in preparation to halt the traffic. "But you'd prefer that I didn't visit the loo in town. Right?"

      I hesitated, anxious not to push her too far when she had already agreed to satisfy one of my deepest-held fantasies. Finally, I said, "If I'm to be completely honest, I'd love it if you would hold on without visiting the loo at all. I know you'd be in agony, and that you might not be able to last, but...well...it's just so..."

      "Stimulating," she finished for me.

      "Right."

      As she pulled away from the lights, Linda tipped her head back for a moment as if asking heaven why she was about to say what she did. "Okay Tim. I'll do it."

      "Really?"

      "But before you get too excited, there are two conditions."

      "Go on."

      "First, there is no way I am going to pee myself in public," she explained, "so if I'm in real danger of that happening, you have to let me use a loo. Agree?"

      I nodded. "And the second condition?"

      "That you'll let me do this to you sometime."

      I wanted to sigh with relief, but suppressed it. Instead, I maintained a calm demeanor and replied, "Agreed."

      She shot me another smile as she added, "Promise?"

      "I promise," I confirmed, "as long as I can put my hand on your leg from time to time, while you're driving."

      She seemed amused. "Whatever for?"

      "Apart from the rather obvious desire to feel your legs, I want to be able to feel you wiggling around when it gets harder to hold on."

      "Ah. I should have realized."

      "Is that okay then?"

      "Yes, Tim,. That's okay," she said, her voice patronizing as if she were addressing a child.

      I reached over, gripped her knee and gave it a sharp squeeze. She jumped and yelped, her foot slipping off the accelerator for a second. "That's for taking the piss," I told her.

      "Surely you're the one who's doing that," she pointed out.

      "I certainly hope so."

      "Evil man."

      "Through and through."

      The remainder of the journey took about twenty minutes. Lin managed to find a place to park on the roadside not far from the Martyr's Memorial, and I liberally fed the parking meter with change, up to the maximum of three hours permitted.

      Linda and I walked along the Westgate Shopping Centre, browsing movies and music in HMV and Virgin until lunchtime. Several times, I noticed Linda standing with her legs crossed as she read descriptions on the back of various DVD boxes. I felt myself react to her predicament and did my best to hide it, hanging my jacket over my arm and allowing it to drape across the front of my body.

      The knowledge that Linda needed to pee, and that she had agreed to avoid visiting to the loo for the rest of the trip, if at all possible, was both stimulating and distracting. I could not concentrate on anything I selected to look at in the shops; I surreptitiously watched her instead. Several times, she noticed me looking and gave me a little smile of acknowledgement. She was being such a great sport, and if she even halfway kept her promise, things were going to become very exciting indeed as the afternoon unfolded.

      By twelve-thirty, I was growing hungry and suggested to Linda that we find somewhere to have lunch.

      "Yes," she agreed, her voice both soft and tense. "I could really do with a sit down. I'm really dying for the loo."

      "No dashing into the Ladies as soon as we go in somewhere," I reminded her, trying to make it sound light-hearted because I knew she must be in some pain by now.

      "Oh. I really don't think I can last much longer, Tim. I may have to use the loo in a cafe."

      "Don't give in yet," I urged her as we stepped back out into the sunshine and headed back towards the Martyr's Memorial.

      "Honestly, I'm having a lot of trouble holding it in."

      "It will feel better once you're sitting and you can cross your legs," I suggested, glancing down at her slightly stiff gait.

      "Oooh," she moaned again. "That may not be enough. I'm really full."

      I felt myself stir again as she spoke these words, and readjusted my jacket to conceal the bulge forming inside my trousers.

      "Let's try along here," I suggested, indicating a narrow street near the end of the pedestrianised area.

      Linda nodded her acquiescence, then walked with her head down as if watching where she was stepping. She was bending forward very slightly, evidently attempting to ease the pressure on her bladder, if only a little.

      After walking a few hundred feet along the narrow street, we came to a cafe called Country Fare. "This do?" I asked.

      "Anywhere's fine," she answered with a hint of impatience. "I just need to sit down."

      "Okay," I said, and hurried forward to open the door for her.

      We stood for an awkward thirty seconds waiting for a waitress to show us to a table. Linda stood with her arms folded, her gaze focused on the middle distance, far beyond the narrow confines of the little cafe. I heard a muted grunt as her breath caught in her throat, betraying the strain she was under. I could tell she was approaching her limit, which meant she would probably declare herself to be in danger of public disgrace and rush off to the loo.

      We sat and she promptly crossed her legs, closing her eyes for a few moments as, presumably, she gained some measure of relief from this.

      Leaning in towards her, I asked in a low voice, "How are you doing?"

      "How do you think I'm doing?" she snapped. She closed her eyes again, bending forward a few inches as if dealing with a particularly acute urge to pee at that moment, then sighed quietly. "Sorry. I'm having a hard time holding on. I really am so desperate for the loo."

      I drew in a breath preparatory to making another attempt to persuade her to keep waiting, but my conscience got the better of me. She had done her best, but her poor bladder really could only hold so much. I wished now that I had agreed to let her use the loo when we arrived, then she might have been able to wait until we got home, but this was too much to ask of her.

      I nodded slowly as I said, "I know. Why don't you visit the loo."

      She tried to smile but her face looked strained; tormented. "Is it really alright?"

      I nodded again. "Go on. I can see you're in agony."

      She blew out her cheeks as she uncrossed her legs and made to stand up. "Thank you, Tim."

      "No need. I should be thanking you for making such a valiant attempt to do the impossible for me."

      "Smooth talker," she teased as she rose to her feet. Her eyes widened, and I guessed she was reacting to a sudden urge to urinate as the ponderous weight of her bladder shifted. "Oh God, I'm about to pop."

      "Don't tell me that," I told her, "or you'll have me coming in there with you."

      "I don't think that would go down to well with the staff here," she said as she stepped past me, her abdomen passing without inches of my face. I badly wanted to reach out and pull her down onto my lap, then hold her there as I rubbed her between the hips and disturbed her bursting bladder, overcoming her muscles and making her wet herself. I almost had to grip the sides of the chair to prevent myself giving into this desire.

      I watched her walk across the little cafe towards the door marked toilets. She was intercepted by the waitress who was in the act of bringing us our menus. The waitress said something to Linda, and I saw Linda shake her head. She then turned and preceded the waitress back to our table.

      "What's up?" I asked as Linda regained her seat.

      When she didn't answer, the waitress chimed in. "There's a woman in the ladies who's really ill. Throwing up. She thinks she's got food poisoning, so we've had to call an ambulance. They should be here in a couple of minutes, then someone will get in there and clean up. I'm afraid your wife will have to wait until then."

      Feeling the need to speak on on Linda's behalf, I said, "Can't she just nip into the gents?"

      "I'm afraid not, sir," the waitress replied, seemingly shocked at my suggestion. "It's more than my job's worth to let her do that."

      "But she really needs to use the loo. Under the circumstances, I think--"

      I felt Linda's hand on my arm, and turned to find her shaking her head. "It's alright, Tim. I'll manage."

      "Are you sure?"

      She nodded mutely. I was secretly thrilled that she was going to hold on a little longer; nevertheless, I gave the waitress a withering stare as she handed me the menus. She immediately adopted an air of petulance and stomped off to attend to customers at another table.

      I sat watching Linda, sitting again with legs crossed and arms now folded across her lap. She swallowed hard, clearly having a hard time holding on after believing relief to be just moments away. She was far too distracted to even look at the lunch menu.

      Taking pity on her, I asked, "Would you like to leave?"

      "I'm not sure I can even stand without pissing myself."

      "Oh God," I said, closing the menu and standing up myself. "Come on. We're leaving. There are some toilets in the central reservation just up from the Martyr's Memorial. Do you think you can make it that far?"

      Linda shook her head. "I've no idea, but I don't have any choice but to try."

      "Come on then," I urged, and moved my chair aside to allow her easy egress.

      Linda rose and caught her breath with an odd little whimper. I thought she was going to lose control of her bladder there and then, but somehow she managed to get herself under control and, with mincing little steps, crossed the cafe and exited onto the pavement.

      Outside, I took hold of her hand and marched her along the street towards the Westgate Shopping Centre. Her heels clicked noisily on the paving slabs as she hurried along beside me, and I was acutely alert to the fact that her rapid steps had to be playing havoc with her muscles. Each jolt must have been sending a shock through the body of fluid stored in her bladder, setting up surges against her sphincter like waves slamming against a sea wall.

      We turned right on the pedestrian precinct and headed for the memorial, a hundred yards away and surrounded by buses. The lavatories I had in mind were on the far side of the island where the memorial stood, but I couldn't quite remember how far it actually was. Beside me, Linda was gasping every three or four steps, clearly battling an almost overwhelming urge to void her bladder.

      She made it past the memorial, although by this time, an almost continuous low moaning noise was escaping from her throat. I could see the entrance to the underground lavatories now, a good two hundred yards away. It was a long way, and to Linda it must have seemed miles. The sudden decrease in her stride length warned of impending disaster, and I knew that she wasn't going to make it.

      "Tim," she wailed, tugging against my hand as she stopped walking altogether. She looked at me with horrified eyes and her mouth fell open. I looked down and saw a wet patch spreading out from the crotch of her jeans. She was peeing herself in public, the very thing she so did not want to have happen.

      That was when I realized that we were less than a hundred feet away from the car. I resumed pulling on her hand, saying, "Come on. This way. Quickly."

      Looking mystified, she obeyed, then saw where I was leading her. She quickened her pace, breaking into a trot now. I released her hand and allowed her to pass me so that I could view her from the back. Her jeans were soaked, all the way down to the hem of each leg. She had completely lost control and must have let the whole lot go. Almost at once, I realized she was still peeing; that she was leaving a trail in her wake as she ran towards the car.

      Linda produced the keys from her purse while still twenty feet from the car, and released the locks. I noticed several people on the pavement nearby stop and watch what was going on, their expressions making it clear that they had noticed Linda's accident. One of them caught my eye, and I smiled and tried to shrug as I hurried past.

      Linda dived into the passenger side of the car, and I took it from this that I would be driving on the way back. I dutifully lowered myself onto the driver's seat and took the proferred keys from her.

      As I started the engine, she said with a mixture of embarrassment and irritation, "Well, you got what you wanted."

      "I'm sorry, Lin," I tried to pacify her. "That had to be so..."

      "Mortifying is the word you're looking for. I won't be able to show my face in Oxford for months."

      "I'm sure hardly anyone noticed."

      "Really. Are they all blind then, all those pedestrians?"

      I didn't answer, and concentrated on finding my way out of the city and getting onto the road back to Didcot. After a while, Linda sighed hugely and laid her head against the head rest. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said at length. "I didn't mean..."

      "I know," I said, anticipating her this time.

      "I didn't have time to find anything to put under me. This seat is going to be a mess."

      "I'm sure we can clean it."

      "Yes, no doubt."

      After another short silence, Linda resumed, "So, when are you going to start groping my leg?"

      I looked across at her and saw the grin on her face.

      "You might as well," she added.

      I saw no reason to disagree with her, and laid a hand on her pee-soaked thigh as I drove us home.