After collecting Julia from the train station in Canterbury and stowing her two suitcases in the boot of the car, we drove to ta pub on the outskirts of the city for a few drinks before heading home. Julia was fond of shandy, a mixture of beer and lemonade; plenty of volume but not too alcoholic, a good combination if must to drive afterwards. I ordered a pint of beer while Julia had her usual half pint of shandy.

      Sometimes, I gulp down a glass of beer like it's going out of fashion, but this night I drank more slowly since Julia and I were deep in conversation, with me doing most of the talking. As a result, she drank her shandy fairly quickly and was finished before my beer was half gone.

      "Another?" I asked, starting to get up.

      "Um, yes, okay. But I'd better go to the loo while you get it." she said, casting her eyes around for the sign for the toilets. I sat back down, and she gave me a questioning look. "What's up?" she asked, a shadow of a frown on her normally smooth brow.

      "Nothing," I said, taking another sip of my beer while wondering if I dare broach the subject of my fetish, or at least one of my fetishes. You see, I have two, and I'd always wanted to combine them... but I'm getting a little ahead of myself.

      It seemed unwise to mention both at the same time, for fear that I would really scare her off. "The bar's that way," Julia indicated the scrum as people crowded around the bar before last orders were called.

      "Actually," I began slowly, trying to think my way through the minefield I was laying for myself, "you can have some of mine." Before she could say anything, I tipped my glass above hers and transferred about half of its contents.

      "Hey, wait," she started to object. "That's real beer. I can't drink too much or I'll get tipsy."

      "So?" I said, smiling mischievously.

      "Behave," she whispered, picking up her glass and taking a sip. She pulled a face. "Ugh, it's bitter."

      "Yep. That's why they call it bitter," I nodded.

      "Oh, I don't think I can drink it Dave."

      "Please do," I said, leaning close and keeping my voice low. "I really want you to."

      "Why?" she asked, sounding a little suspicious if not yet concerned.

      "I just do," I said, keeping the conversation vague and trying to sound as if it didn't really matter that much. Don't you find the best way to get someone to do something for you is to pretend you don't really care whether they do it or not? With Julia, it was like a red rag to a bull. She leaned in close until her mouth was only a few inches from my left ear, her voice quiet enough to be lost in the general hubbub, so that only I could hear what she was saying.

      "You don't need to get me drunk, Dave. I'll come willingly."

      We had already been to bed for sex a number of times, so I knew she was being playful. I wondered just how playful she was willing to be, however. Did I dare ask her? My worry must have become obvious because her frown returned as she studied my expression. "What is it?" she asked. Trying to swallow my heart which had jumped up into my mouth the instant I made up my mind to risk it, I whispered back,

      "I'd really like it if you would drink the beer and not go to the loo before we leave."

      She stared at me for a few seconds, apparently trying to decide if I was drunk. I saw her glance at my glass, work out that I had consumed very little beer and therefore could not be intoxicated. She leaned in again. "Are you serious?"

      "Very?"

      "Why?"

      "Because... well, because seeing a girl desperate for the loo makes me... it turns me on."

      "Really?"

      "Really."

      "Dave, you dirty dog. I had no idea."

      "You don't know the half of it," I said before I could catch myself. I saw her eyes widen for a moment, then her smile grew broader.

      "Tell me more," she whispered, clearly intrigued.

      "Not here." I nodded at her glass. "Drink up, and then we'll go."

      "Without me visiting the loo," she added, raising an interrogative eyebrow.

      "I'd appreciate it," I said. I think she could see I really meant it.

      "How much?"

      "What?"

      "How much would you appreciate it?'

      "How about non-stop love making all night," I suggested.

      "Could you?"

      "If you come back to my house without using the toilet, I can guarantee it."

      "Now this I must see," she said, and to my astonishment, picked up my glass and poured almost all of its remaining contents into her own glass.

      She tossed it back like a hardened drinker, downing the half-pint in about fifteen seconds. When she had finished, she grimaced and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "How can you drink that stuff? It's disgusting."

      "Tell you what," I said. "Why don't I just nip up and get you a pint of shandy, to help take the taste away." She shook her head.

      "You said we were leaving," she said with just a hint of rebuke in her voice.

      "Just one more pint?" I urged again. Her reply was whispered.

      "Dave. I can't."

      "Of course you can," I insisted. "Fit girl like you. Nice firm muscles. You'll be fine."

      "I'll be in serious trouble," she corrected.

      "All the better."

      She sat regarding me for some seconds, I think weighing the odds of drinking still more when her bladder was already uncomfortably full, and then having to wait another twenty minutes as I drove her to my place. At last, she said reluctantly, "Okay, but not a pint. Just another half."

      "All right," I agreed. "And no nipping off to the loo while I'm gone."

      "I won't."

      "Promise?"

      "I promise. But, Dave, do me a favor."

      "What's that?" She lowered her voice again.

      "Don't hang about. It's getting serious."

      I nodded once and got up, careful to keep a hand in my front left jeans pocket to help conceal the bulge of my now-fully-erect penis.

      It took me five minutes to get through the scrum, and I only just made it before the barman called time. I came back with two pints, one of shandy and one of bitter. Julia looked appalled as I set her glass down before her. "I said half a pint. I can't drink all that!"

      "Try," I urged her.

      She leaned forward slightly, her breath catching in her throat as a momentary expression of pain passed across her face. "I'm getting really desperate for the loo," she added in an urgent whisper.

      "Please," I pleaded, not caring if I sounded pathetic. I just wanted to see her drink it, knowing that her bladder was aching for relief.

      She hesitated, closing her eyes in obvious frustration, then sighed as she picked up the glass and lifting the glass to her lips. "Thanks Jools," I said, leaning close and smiling at her. "You're a gem." She swallowed a mouthful of the shandy and tentatively smiled back.

      "You're a bad boy," she whispered, glancing around to make sure we could not be overheard. The pub was so noisy she didn't have anything to worry about.

      I could see she was trying to drink the shandy as quickly as possible, but she had already drunk quite a bit and seemed unable to rush it.

      She had her legs tightly crossed now, and I could just imagine the pressure on her abdomen as she continued taking gulps from her glass. As she swallowed the last mouthful, her body spasmed and she promptly uncrossed her legs, standing up. "Let's go," she said.

      "You seem in a hurry,' I teased, raising my brows in a meaningful way. Julia caught her bottom lip between her teeth, her expression a picture of concentration. I rose and followed her to the exit, hoping she wouldn't lose her nerve at the last moment and make a dash for the loo.

      She didn't.

      I took in her fairly-tight black skirt, its hem a few inches above her knees and revealing a tantalizing glimpse of her wonderfully-shaped thighs. Tonight, Julia's legs were sheathed in black stockings with black heels on her feet, these latter accentuating the shape of her calves. On her top she wore a thin gray turtleneck sweater and a black leather jacket.

      Her walk was not quite as elegant as usual, the twinges she must be feeling in her distressed bladder causing her to mince and stoop a little. I felt my penis stiffen inside my pants. I longed to get her into bed, and would have been more than happy to make love to her while she nursing a bursting bladder, but I didn't think she would go for that. It was be too painful.

      We walked across to the far side of the car park when I had left the Volvo. When we reached it, Julia stood with one hand on the passenger door handle, understandably anxious to climb in and sit down. I decided to risk delaying her for a few moments and, half way round to the driver's door, I stopped and retraced my steps. She gave me a questioning look as I approached her, and I noticed her right knee bend as she lifted her foot a few inches off the ground.

      "What are you doing?" she asked, a hint of panic in her voice. I wondered how much the cold air, coupled with her having to stand up, was making her want to pee.

      "Kiss me," I said, grabbing hold of her and pulling her to me, forcing her to release her grip on the door handle.

      "What? Now?"

      "Now," I ordered, pressing my lips to hers in time to forestall any further protest. She didn't resist the kiss, although I could tell it was going on longer than she wanted because she began shifting her weight from one foot to the other. Making a soft grunting noise through her nose , she pulled away.

      "Let's get into the car," she urged. "I'm dying to go to the loo."

      "I know," I said, maintaining a firm hold on her waist with my right hand while my left strayed down past the small of her back to her bottom. I gripped her left cheek, giving it a quick squeeze. She gasped, jumping slightly.

      "Don't do that," she gasped breathlessly. "You'll make me wet myself."

      "Good," I replied, and went right on squeezing her.

      "Dave. Stop it. Please. I'm bursting."

      "Music to my ears," I whispered, obediently desisting from squeezing her bottom, but pulling her closer until my bulging penis made contact with her abdomen.

      "Ouch! Stop it!" she said, her tone becoming sharp, telling me that she really was in trouble. I tried to kiss her again, but she wasn't having any. "Let me get into the car, or I'll have to go in the bushes."

      "No, no, no. You promised to wait."

      "I know, but I can't stop wiggling my legs. I'm afraid people will see."

      As if to stress the point, she began tapping her right heel, pushing down on her toes and making her knee swing back and forth. I stood there watching her leg wiggling rhythmically, mesmerized. "Dave!" she added, and this time there was no mistaking the urgency in her voice.

      I dutifully released the locks on the doors and she quickly clambered in. As she sat, her skirt rode up her legs to reveal an extra four inches of thigh. She immediately crossed her legs and began fumbling for the seat belt, pulling it across her abdomen with obvious reluctance.

      I closed her door and walked slowly around to the other side of the car, all the while thinking about the way she had been so quick to cross her legs after sitting down. She needed to piss like a racehorse, and she was trapped in my car. I could hardly walk as my distended penis pushed harder against my thigh.

      "Start driving," she ordered as I slid in beside her, her manner no longer playful. "I'm really desperate for the loo now."

      Leaning forward in an attempt to take some of the pressure off her bladder, I heard her strained breathing and realized she was fighting hard to maintain control. I couldn't have wished for anything more. And yet, at the same time, I felt so sorry for her, knowing that she was sitting there in agony and having to put up with my blatant stalling tactics.

      As we left the pub car park, the front right wheel bounced over a rut and jolted the car. I heard her gasp. Reflexively, I asked, "Are you all right?"

      "No, I'm not all right. My bladder is killing me." She paused to take a deep, tremulous breath. "Do you realize I drank over two pints of beer in there."

      "You downed it like a professional," I said, trying to lighten the mood, but she was too preoccupied with her condition to engage in any more banter.

      The drive home from the pub usually took about twenty minutes, traffic permitting. However, tonight I kept to the speed limit which, by my estimation, would add an additional five minutes to the trip. Julia remained silent for the first half of the journey, apart that is from occasionally sucking in air through clenched teeth. I glanced at her from time to time, and in the light of the dashboard could see her legs, the thighs intersected about mid-way up by the sharp black line of her skirt hem. She no longer had her legs crossed, but sat with her knees pressed close together, bouncing them up and down. Her hands were folded together and pressing into her lap. I imagined her with her fingers between her thighs, pressing on her crotch to her ease the pressure on her sphincter. Then I realized that she couldn't be helping herself in that way because her skirt was too tight, and the hem was clearly visible as a straight dark line intersecting the slightly paler black of her stockings.

      "Can't you go any faster?" she said at last, the catch in her voice betrayed her anxiety.

      "It's hard to see," I began to point out, but she cut me off.

      "Bullshit. You normally drive faster than this, even when it's raining. You're just trying to delay me getting to the loo." I admitted that I was, and her response was a frustrated sigh. "Well don't, not unless you want a wet car seat. I'm breaking my neck, Dave. I really can't hold it much longer."

      I reached out a hand and rested it on her thigh, immediately aware of the tension in her muscles and the incessant shaking. "Don't," she warned, her voice sharp.

      "I just want to touch your leg," I said softly.

      "Oh," she started, then broke off to lean forward as a particularly violent spasm passed through her body. "Oh God, I nearly lost it then."

      "Julia," I said, rubbing my hand up and down her thigh so that the edge of my palm pushed against the hem of her skirt, raising it just an inch each time.

      "What? I can't talk. I have to concentrate."

      "I know. I just wanted to tell you how very grateful I am to you for putting up with this."

      I looked across in time to see her glance at me. Her eyes reflected the light from the dashboard, but I couldn't really make out much about her expression.

      "Well, I agreed to it, so it's as much my fault as yours."

      "I know you're in agony Julia, but try not to be angry with me. It's not something I can switch on and off at will. It's been happening to me ever since puberty. I know you don't want to hear this right now, but your wiggling around is driving me to distraction." She gasped softly, leaning forward again, then spoke without looking up.

      "Just don't let it drive us into the hedge." An attempt at humor. Becoming serious again, she added, "Just please hurry. I have to get to your place as soon as possible. I'm at my limit."

      "Oh God," I said in a tense whisper, feeling my penis pulse and threaten to ejaculate into my pants.

      To my surprise, Julia's right hand groped my thigh, snaked up my leg towards my groin, and then gripped my penis. She squeezed me very hard, as if it might somehow help her to battle the pressure from her bladder. "Oh my God. You're huge," she gasped, seeming genuinely surprised. After a momentary pause, she added, "Will it be this size later?"

      "I guarantee it. It won't go down for hours."

      "Good," she grunted, and began rubbing me.

      "Oh Jesus. Don't," I said. "I'm nearly coming."

      "Good," she said again. "That way, we can both make a mess of ourselves. Oh, oh God. My skirt feels like the waistband has shrunk about three sizes. It's cutting into me."

      "Oh Julia. This is wonderful."

      "It's excruciating. How much further is it?"

      "Not far. And it'll be worth it in the end; I promise."

      "It had better be," she gasped, then began a long, continuous moan as she rocked back and forth in her seat. I glanced down as saw her left hand clenched into a fist and pounding her thigh, while her right hand, moving sporadically due to her distracted condition, continued stroking my erect penis. I was right on the edge of shooting my entire load, and hoped that I'd be able to keep control of the car if it erupted out of me and plunged my senses into blind ecstasy.

      As I turned onto the road where I lived, Julia began chanting "Oh, oohhh, ooohhh! Hurry up! Hurry, hurry, hurry! I'm about to explode!"

      "So am I," I grunted, barely managing to keep Mount Vezuvius in check. "And I don't want you running to the loo when we get in."

      "What!" She squealed the word, and there was no mistaking the panic in her voice now. "Dave, I must. I really must. I can't hold it any longer."

      "Please try."

      "I said I can't! Ooohhhh!" She was trying to control her emotions, but driven by the pain of her badly distended bladder and the frustration of not being able to relieve it without soaking her clothes and my car seat, everything she said came out in an irate shout. "Christ, I don't think I can even stand up without pissing myself, so waiting any longer just isn't an option. You got that?"

      "All right," I tried to console her. "Calm down."

      "How the hell can I calm down?" she screamed as I turned into the driveway before the dark, locked house. "I'm in absolute agony. If don't piss straight away, I'm going to burst!"

      Even before the car stopped moving, she began wrestling with her seat belt, fumbling with the catch in the gloom. "Oohhh, fuck it. I can't get this thing off. Help me, for God's sake." She bent forward, and this time I saw her hands snake under the hem of her skirt. She rammed them into her crotch as I released my own belt and then reached over to unbuckle hers.

      I could not miss the band of pale flesh now visible between the sheer black nylon sheathing her right leg and the hem of her skirt. She really was wearing stockings! I could even see the strip of a black suspender strap against her flesh. I felt the semen start to climb the tube of my penis once again.

      This was it. I couldn't control it any longer.

      I began ejaculating into my pants, my body shuddering as my senses were saturated by the ensuing wave of pleasure. In the background, I could hear Julia's voice shouting at me frantically. "What the hell are you doing? For Christ's sake help me! NOW!" But her desperate plea only served to heighten my pleasure, and for the moment there was nothing in the world I could do to help her.

      "I--I can't," I stammered. "I'm coming in my pants."

      "Oh, great! I'm stuck here with a bladder as big as a whale's and your jerking yourself off. Oh God, I'm dying Dave. You've got to help me!. Pleaasssse!"

      "I--can't," I repeated.

      "Oh no," I heard her gasp. "Oh no, not yet, Please, not yet."

      This statement was followed by a tense, protracted moan in her throat, as if she were trying to lift a three-hundred-pound weight. My body was beginning to sag with relief, while she was in the last throes of a fight with her bulging bladder, a fight she was on the verge of losing. I inferred from the straining sounds that she was beginning to leak into her panties. My penis, although only just discharged, immediately stiffened again. There was little doubt that I would be able to keep my promise about a night of unbridled sex.

      I heard rather than saw her release the buckle of her safety belt. The passenger door flew open and Julia practically tumbled out. I knew I had to start moving myself or I might miss the action.

      When I caught up with her, she was literally hobbling towards the front door. It brought home to me just how desperate she was. Her posture told of her need to hurry, but she dare not jolt herself otherwise her pendulous bladder would give way. She paused at the bottom of the three steps leading up to the front door, her right hand gripping the handrail for support while her left was presumably buried in her crotch. She raised her right leg and placed her foot on the first step, her heel almost at the edge. If she slipped, she would lose control in an instant.

      I closed up the gap as she awkwardly ascended the remaining steps. When she looked at me, I could see anguish and fear mingled in her expression. "Open the door," she gasped breathlessly. "It's coming out."

      "Oh Julia," I began, but she cut me off again.

      "Open the door Dave. I'm starting t--to p-piss myself. Oh God hurry. Pl-please hurrrrryyy!"

      I produced the door key and raised it to the lock as Julia stood there dancing from one foot to the other, her heels clicking loudly against the concrete as she tapped out a frantic tattoo. She bent forward again, her hands going first to her knees and then frantically rubbing the front of her thighs. I caught a faint sob and saw her body tense, her knees pressing together, and guessed she was trickling into her panties again.

      She was so close to losing control. If I unlocked the door, I realized, she still might make it to the lavatory in time, and having come this far I really didn't want to be deprived of the final show. I therefore dropped the key back into my coat pocket and stepped closer to her. She saw me do it, her mouth opening in disbelief.

      "What are you doing?" she squealed.

      I put my hands to her waist and ran them up her sides until they slid in beneath her armpits, then I lifted her with all my strength, forcing her to straighten up. She groaned , her hands beating mine in an effort to make me let go. She was squirming in my grasp, her legs working wildly and she did her best to cross them. Her body shuddered as the immense strain threatened to overwhelm her. "Let go of me. What the hell are you doing. I have to piss. I have to piss. Oh!"

      I pulled her close, my solid penis slamming against her abdomen, while at the same time I pressed my lips to hers. She grunted, tried to speak, fought to pull away, but I had her. I dropped my right hand quickly to her bottom and squeezed it. A muffled protest escaped her, some of the sound passing into my mouth as I continued holding on to her and kissing her. I could feel her legs struggling for purchase, the muscles in her bottom tensing in a last desperate attempt to control her bursting bladder.

      Then she froze, her lips pressed to mine, my penis stabbing into her abdomen, compressing her poor bulging bladder. She drew in a sharp breath, her eyes widening and mouth opening at the same time. Then, all at once, she relaxed, her legs slowing down and then becoming still.

      I caught the hissing sound as she wet herself, and wished I could have seen it soaking through her panties and streaming down her thighs over the tops of her stockings. I moved back, and in the glow of the outside light activated by our arrival, I watched the wet patch spread across the front panel of her skirt. Quickly, I moved in again and kissed her, feeling her body go limp against mine as she stood there emptying her bladder.

      When she'd finished, she rested her brow against my chest and said in a weary, resigned tone, "Bastard."

      "I know," I said, "but I've been longing to have an experience like this all my life. Try not to be too angry."

      "God," she continued in the same weary tone, "I needed that more than you can ever know. I've never been so desperate for the loo in my life."

      "It was wonderful," I said, hoping that her temper would not flare up again. She sighed, her chest rising as she did so, then slowly shook her head.

      "Glad you enjoyed it. I think I put on quite a show for you."