pwpj

Most portable toilets can be locked from the outside with a square end key or a screwdriver

Or "wee" which I believe is a chiefly british term.

This is a story which is 90% based on events I witnessed one night, but with a few alterations as to names, places etc. However, the storyline is true. Sorry about the length!

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It was late one night on a tube train disappearing into the suburbs. Thursday night wasn't as wild as Friday, so the tube was quiet. There had been some delays on the way, and I was going to be tight to catch the last bus home.

We pulled into the station where I changed for the bus. This was a small outdoors station which was quite sleepy really, especially at that time of night. Most of the houses around were owned by reasonably well earning middle class families who weren't really up for late nights. The station had toilets, gents on the northbound platform we were pulling into, but the ladies had to walk up the bridge, down to the southbound platform, use the toilet, and then back up to the bridge to exit.

I pull into the station and get off, as do a couple of other people. In the distance I see a girl I vaugely knew from school get off. Alexandra, like me, was now 20 and very good looking, with shoulder length brown curly hair, a slim build and tonight wearing a blue dress and tights underneath a coat. I didn't know her too well so walked up the stairs to the ticket gates, where I saw the bus I wanted was waiting, so I ran across and got on board. I went to sit right at the back and I could see Alexandra get to the gates as if to cross to the other platform (and the toilet), then rush through the exit gates and across the road to catch the bus. She didn't see me, and selected a seat three rows in front of me on the other side.

It was at this point that I wondered whether she might be in need of a wee. I figured she'd probably been out at a party or the pub or something, given her outfit. And I saw the hesitation as she weighed up the options of going to the toilet (and missing the bus, and walking half an hour home) or catching the bus (and waiting longer for relief). Obviously, she'd figured that the latter option was less painful.

The bus waited for several minutes before leaving, and I could see a look of irritation on her face. She could probably have gone to the toilet and come back to catch the bus, if she was quick enough!

The bus pulled off and made its way through the housing estate. Being late at night, there was little traffic on the road, but the bus made slow progress, presumably not wanting to run ahead of schedule. I could see Alexandra had crossed her legs by this point, and was nervously tapping her heel. She quickly crossed her legs the other way around and started fiddling nervously with her hair. It was obvious by this point that she was quite desperate, and was probably regretting not going for a wee at the station.

By this time we were travelling along a main road out into a more sparsely populated area. I knew that Alexandra lived in a village a couple of miles along, and a couple of miles before my own stop. So there was about a five minute wait until her stop, then I estimated another five minute walk before she got home from there.

I broke away from my mental calculations to look at her. She uncrossed her legs and sat with her hand in her crotch for a second, before crossing them the other way. I could see her right hand beside her, fists clenched. She was obviously very desperate and in urgent need of release. The bus wended through the fields and approached her village, so she pressed the bell, but did not get up. I could see her reach for the edge of her seat, but she was obviously in intense desperation and did not want to stand up too soon. This was to prove unfortunate - the bus driver pulled up, looked in the mirror, saw nobody by the doors and then pulled off again.

There was an awful look of despair on her face as she drew further away from home, and she pressed the bell a few times for emphasis. The driver obviously realised she had wanted the stop, but shouted back "Sorry, can't stop until the next stop I'm afraid!". Rules is rules and all that?! He pulled up at the next stop and I could see Alexandra get up and hobble towards the back doors of the bus, ready to alight. I had a split second decision to make. As the bus drew to a halt I quickly got up and followed her out the exit door, where she had already started making her way back towards home.

She was wearing high heels and obviously was trying to run in them. This did not go well, and it was quite a sight to see her trotting along from behind. In fact, her speed was easily kept up with a brisk pace. I wondered how strained her bladder must be by now, especially considering she was having to walk further than anticipated.

After a few minutes we had almost reached the original stop she should have got off at. Right, so she was back to square one in the getting home dry stakes! At this point, she bent over with her legs knitted together, almost going down into a squat. It was obvious to anyone watching that she was trying to regain control. I wondered how long she could wait - from her movements it seemed like she was bursting and on the verge of wetting herself.

Somehow she regained control and continued walking forwards, but a lot slower than before. By this point, we had turned off the main road onto another road alongside the village green. She continued to walk awkwardly in the direction of home, obviously trying to make the final straight. She had jammed a hand up the front of her dress into her crotch and was trying to walk gingerly, "oooh"ing and "aaah"ing with every step she took. I was sure she'd be in difficulty getting home dry.

And I was right.

We continued down at the slow pace for about a hundred yards. All of a sudden she stopped, and tensed up, and doubled over. I could hear her desperately grimacing as she tried to hold her bladder shut, but I knew her bladder must be full to capacity. It was now gone midnight in a small village in the suburbs, and very quiet. So quiet that I could hear a hissing sound that went on for a second, followed by a whimper and a hand very quickly withdrawn from crotch. She looked left and right and didn't seem to know what to do. Her bladder was beyond full and she was going to pee very soon, whether or not she liked it.

She hobbled along another couple of steps, and dropped her handbag on the pavement next to her, then pulled off her coat and dropped that too. She was in front of me doubled over and I could see for the first time she had a clear VPL in her tight dress. Again, I heard another second of hissing.

It was clear she was losing the battle, and I could see her gingerly lifting up her skirt with one hand whilst keeping the other jammed in her crotch. With her skirt around her waist, her lilac knickers were visible through her tights, although I was too far away to see any dampness. In a swift motion she pulled her tights and knickers down to her knees and, bent double, released her bladder. Having been holding it for what was obviously some considerable time, the pee came out in a torrent and splattered on the pavement at first. I could see a strong stream leaving her, with dribbles across her privates, obviously caused by the pre-wetting. The stream went on for what seemed to be ages, and although it threatened to die down on a few occasions, it always had more energy.

Finally, the stream did die down. But her bladder wasn't empty yet, and she pushed out a few more dribbles. At this point she sighed extremely heavily. I couldn't believe the sight that had just happened in front of my eyes! She just stayed still for a while, naked bum in the air, knickers and tights at her knees, dripping the last few bits from her privates. She seemed to be thinking what to do next. She shook herself to rid herself of the last few drips, then pulled her knickers and tights off in a bundle. She separated them and put her tights in her bag (were they particularly expensive) but discarded her knickers in the bushes...

What a night. I could barely believe my eyes :)

The key is to pay in dollars, checking with your bank that they support foreign transactions, which most do. I have an account with the National Westminster and they charged me fine, levying a small fee (25p I think) for the fact it was a transaction in a foreign currency - better than paying an inflated price from the start.

I went for a walk in the park today. It was quite busy what with the bank holiday and the sunny weather this weekend.

At the edge of a grassy area is an area with trees and low lying shrubs. The grassy area had several groups of young students picnicing and drinking.

Walking along a path in the shrubs I could see two girls in their twenties enter and hide behind a holly bush. The first to go was a blonde who I didn't see. Second was a curvy brunette, about 25 years of age, who pulled down her black tights and pulled her skirt up, squatted on the floor and then made a large stream on the path, which continued for quite some time.

A little later a tall blonde in her late teens appeared, wearing jeans and a polka-dot turquoise and blue top. She hid behind a bush and pulled her jeans down, followed by lacey black knickers. She bent over in a high squat and only dribbled for a short time before she stood back up and carried on.

Great answer Steve, thanks for that, there is real hope I think, that this might happen at most, if not all, festivals. That park sounds fun, have you not been back to check it out again since. Was it anywhere near London?

I remember once in a London park, again many moons ago, sunning myself on one of the many lawns there, and near me was a young couple, lying around on the ground and happily drinking tins of alcohol, and getting quite merry to say the least. My attention was drawn to them because she was rather tasty looking, and from where I sat about thirty yards away I could see her carelessly sling her legs around giving me the odd sexy peek at her panties under her skirt. Very nice way to while away a few hours in the sun.

Anyway it got better. To my left, and between me and them, was a large bushy tree clump bordering an area not generally open to the public. There weren't many other folk around. She suddenly decided to get up and head around the far side of the trees. My piss alert came on and I decided to go for a look on the off chance of being able to see her. I was glad I did because I arrived around the back of the trees just in time to see her pull her skirt up and drop those knickers I had been admiring. Her back was slightly turned towards me, and she bent over in a high crouch giving me a lovely view of her bare bum and the valley below. She was only a couple of yards away and I was able to stand and watch a beautiful piss until she finished and pulled her knickers back up, and gone back to her guy. She never turned and saw me at all, standing behind quietly watching the show.

Fab sexy experiences, but the beauty of it was the experiences was repeated several times, each time her bladder filled up again with all that beer. Seemed to take about half an hour!

I can confirm that this sort of thing still happens on a regular basis when it's sunny in a park. Keeping an eye open for such girls can yield happy sightings. Usually, somebody getting up and walking purposefully towards some bushes, usually without bags/coats etc which are left with the rest of the party. It's almost always alone but occasionally with one other.

In one particular park is a bushy area which can be entered from two sides, both at the top and bottom of the hill (which it runs along the edge of). The top is frequented by sunbathers and evening picnic-drinkers, especially students. It is often possible to see at a distance a girl stand up from one of these groups and make her way towards the bushes. By carefully approaching from the other side a good view can be seen as she selects a spot to squat and have a wee. It's often possible to tell the difference between a girl who is accustomed to weeing in bushes, perhaps because she often goes drinking outside - striding confidently in, selecting a spot and squatting, and one who doesn't like it but is forced to through desperation. The latter will usually be more paranoid. And if one does get seen, the girl is more likely to be embarrassed at being seen, and your own presence can be for the same reason as hers!

(This is a lucky sighting which I'm quite sure could be bulked out into a story).

A few weeks ago I was out on a Saturday night in a busy bar populated by many students. There was a pretty girl who looked quite drunk chatting to a good-looking guy. She was about 5ft 2, mousy brown hair and very good figure wearing, crucially, grey leggings amongst other things which showed her arse off perfectly. She was also showing some signs of needing a wee - crossed legs, fidgeting etc. I kept her in the corner of my eye for a good half an hour and her desperation became more frantic. Eventually this guy went to leave with his friends and she swapped numbers with him, as soon as he was gone she made for the toilets, but everyone was getting in the way. As she got close to them I could see a small damp patch on the back of her leggings. She got to the toilets and saw a long queue so darted out the fire escape into the yard, by this point there was a bigger patch, she tried to fidget with her clothes but just ended up standing there and wetting herself with obvious damp patches dribbling down both legs.

Ive noticed there are quite a few pay toilets on the continent, Ive been to toilets in france that were essentially unisex, you went into a large room with urinals which were free to use and you had to pay at a turnstile if you wanted to use a cubicle. Other times Ive had to pay has been in pubs and bars in Holland, France and Spain and had to pay to use the toilet, usually like a euro which was very annoying as they must make a fortune from extorting people drinking in their establishment and esp as for most they were just the usual shoddily built dirty efforts, but as a lot of the time when drinking over there we'd be bar hopping so would usually just wait and find somewhere to go on the way.But to be honest I didnt really have a problem doing that.

That's very odd, culturally, because our own licensing laws dictate that toilets must be provided free for patrons of the establishment!

This happens to me all the time, especially when I'm on my way to the bathroom and quickly trying to take off my pants. Or if I really have to pee and stand up to go to the bathroom, I always leak.

Does it happen just when you get to the bathroom? Is it just a dribble or lots?

It was a knee-length skirt which she initially pulled up and pulled her knickers/tights down to her knees, crouched slightly and let the first squirt splatter on the pavement, before pulling it up more and squatting properly to finish.

Sometimes I've heard of girls leaking/dribbling as they get to the toilet. I don't mean full on wetting, but letting go of a few dribbles in their knickers, usually as they approach the toilet. Is this a common thing?

Funny you should say that, the driers get all the more powerful and noisy don't they?

Modern ones are particularly as they are more effective and powerful!

I would just like to point out that in many public facilities, a mains switch is situated above most driers!

There's a dire shortage of public lavatories in my home city, but the one's in Shopping Malls are not too bad. I often travel to London with my job, and hold on for dear life because I hate going on a train. Then I'm thwarted at Euston Station, so I will often wait until I'm near a museum or gallery, they are often well-appointed!

The pub on Euston Station has toilets which can be used - I suppose they rely on it being out of the way and not sign posted to avoid lots of people using it.

I have a very good friend whos bladder reacts to alcohol - if we're out drinking she will need a wee regularly. Usually we meet up in city centre bars etc, so it isn't a problem.

I thought about engineering a situation in which she'd be desperate. Not far away from us there's a village with a little pub I'd quite like to go to. We could spend a few hours there, then walk back to the town, which takes you along a pathway along the route of a long-closed railway line. It takes about an hour to get back to the main road. Now, if I engineered this situation she would surely be desperate at some point along the way and need to wee in a bush. How would I broach the subject? Is this too mean?!

I'm on the tube going home late at night - about 11pm. As we approach my station I notice a girl gets up in front of me, the first thing I notice (to be honest!) is her tight dress which shows a clear VPL of some frilly-edged knickers. Then I notice that she's bobbing up and down slightly at the knees with her legs pressed together. I wondered if she might need a wee... the train pulls into a station and the doors open, she shoots off and quickly trots towards the exit. She's slim with a pert backside, with brown hair held up in a bun, wearing a tight black dress and black tights which as I said above showed off her knicker line.

As she got to the exit stairway there were two other girls walking up the stairs with a small gap, this girl ran through the gap knocking into one of them, shouting "really sorry!" over her shoulder as she did. She then walked very quickly down the passageway which leads to the escalators, I was behind although not wanting to appear to be watching her. At the foot of the escalators she initially walked to the one going down, then turned back and selected the correct one, which lost her valuable time (but meant I caught up!). The escalator was relatively busy with partygoers coming home, all standing not walking, but she walked up. I was sure she must be desperate for a wee. I followed walking up and we reached the top where the ticket gates are. She made a beeline immediately for the manned gate and spoke to an attendant. I could overhear "I really need the toilet, I'm desperate, pleeeease?" whilst she bobbed up and down for emphasis. Unfortunately (for her at least) the attendant refused her access to the staff facilities. She tried again but it was obvious the attendant was unrelenting. Defeated, she swiped out of the gates and ran towards the exit.

After the gates are two choices - you can turn right to the main road, where there is a pub, a KFC and a McDonalds which all have toilets. Or you can turn left to the side exit where there's nothing but houses. She turned left - obviously doesn't know this area! She came out the side exit and the main road here is about 10ft above the station, with a stairway above. There's also a walkway at the station level which goes underneath an office block - it's fairly dingy and not a place you'd want to go. She turns left and runs across this walkway to the other side - there's nowhere which might have a toilet, and no cover. She stops at the edge, bobbing up and down, and then sees a doorway to her right which is fairly well concealed. It used to be the entrance to some flats although all the residents have moved out these days, but it's still in relatively good repair. In fact, if you didn't know it was empty, you'd expect a resident to turn up at the door wanting to go in. I saw her disappear into the doorway...

I knew what she was about to do but could I pull this off? I turned the corner myself and walked into the doorway with some keys in my hand. I was greeted by the site of this pretty girl, with her skirt pulled up to her neck, pissing fiercely with a loud hiss in a puddle on the doorway. I could see her unshaved lady-bits, with a fierce split stream coming out, and I could see her white knickers with lace around the edges, complete with a damp spot. She looked at me and said "Oh my god... I'm soooooo sorry.... oh my god..." and then sighed in relief as she continued to piss like a racehorse. I was quite astounded at how she managed to continue to empty her bladder all over the doorway. She had obviously consumed a huge quantity of liquid. The stream went into bursts as she emptied the last bit of her bladder, and then she sighed, and seemed to realise what she'd done. "Oh my god... what have I done, I'm so so sorry..." I made a noncommittal "it's ok", she elaborated "I was so desperate, there was nowhere to go, I just had to before it was too late... oh my god". She pulled up her knickers and adjusted her skirt, then headed off at a much slower pace.

I wondered if I was dreaming! I put the keys to my work locker back in my pocket, and a few minutes later left the doorway and continued home.

This weekend - surely plenty of girls peeing wherever they can find?

A locomotive driver could conceivably be some way away from facilities on some of the more remote parts of the network. I seem to remember reading that B.R. fitted some diesel locomotives with urinals for this reason, although they just discharged onto the permanent way.

Out walking today I noticed a girl wearing a blue bikini turn off a path into some bushes.

She hid behind a tree, then as she was about to pull the bikini down she had second thoughts and moved further in. However, she was still visible as she pulled her bikini bottoms down, squatted and let loose a strong stream. She wiped with a packet of baby wpipes and returned to the path.