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Running all the way


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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 :)

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