I Like Female Desperation
[b]I have an active interest in omorashi. I’m 18. I’m a cheerleader. If you send me a message, I will answer any questions you have.[/b]
[b][u]Part One.[/u][/b]
[i]It was 09:00. I left in a hurry and was feeling the urge to visit a bathroom. At this moment in time, I didn’t realise how long it would be before I had the opportunity to relieve myself. I was on the mini-bus, travelling to the airport. I was in my dance gear (pictured in my profile photograph – message me for a larger version of it), and so quite a bit of attention was heading my way when we arrived at the airport. I went to go to the bathroom, but the queue was quite lengthy. We were cutting time quite short, so I agreed to put it off until we’d been through security. I was starting to feel the urge badly, but I still wasn’t too concerned. The queue for security was long and repetitive. Each time we stopped, I was having to stand with my legs crossed. At the front of the line, I was asked to step to one side. I was told that other people were complaining about my clothing, and that I would have to take a different travel option if I was to stay in my dancing gear.
I was taken into a room and told to take a seat. I sat down and crossed my legs. If I had to rate my current situation (10 being beyond my limit, 1 being completely fine), I would probably pick 7. I wasn’t comfortable at all now. “Is there any chance I can visit the bathroom?” I was told I couldn’t. Again, I wasn’t overly concerned yet. I was asked why I was wearing my dancing gear. “I have a tight schedule. I need to go straight to the arena when I land in Spain.” A few minutes passed. Somebody walked into the room and sat down opposite me. A passenger booked on the previous flight had missed his check-in, and he had been offered a ticket on my flight. My flight was fully booked, and so somebody had to give up their place for him. Since I’d been held aside, they had given him my ticket. “When is the next flight?” I was told it would be four hours. “I need to be on this flight!” I had no choice. They had started boarding, and I hadn’t made it through security yet. I was edging closer to an 8 on the scale. I could sit still, but only just. I had my legs tightly crossed.
“Can I use the bathroom yet?” Negative. I was told I would have to wait until I made it through security. Once through security, I would be taken to a waiting area until my flight was boarding. I would then be taken to my plane, where I would have the opportunity to use the on-board facilities. After being told that, I started to worry. Another employee entered the room and told me to follow them. I stood up, and that was the first time I realised how quickly I was filling up. I was close to an 8 on the scale. Despite this, I was still able to walk normally. It was a long walk. When we finally stopped, I was asked to lay down on a table. “Why?” I was told it was a medical check. All the dancers have one carried out when they travel through the airport. It wasn’t until I laid down that I realised my bladder was bulging. I was told that it would be a quick 20-minute check-up, and then I would be taken through security. To start with, they asked me a few standard questions. My name (Emily), my nationality (British), my age (17, at the time), my reason for travelling (dance competition) and my destination (Spain). Next, I was asked to stay completely still with my hands by my side.
A male entered the room. He was in his mid-20s, possibly late-20s. He placed both his hands on my hips and grabbed me tightly. His hands were cold. It came as a shock to me. I was struggling to lay flat without crossing my legs. I tried to reposition myself, but he took hold of my legs. He grabbed the top of one of my knee-high socks and slowly rolled it down my leg. He took it off. He repeated the same process with my other sock. His hands moved back up my legs. He took hold of the white lace on my skirt and adjusted the fitting, making it tighter. It added an incredible amount of pressure to my bladder. I bit my tongue as hard as I could to avoid making a sound. He continued to tighten it until it would not move any further. A burning sensation started, but quickly stopped as he loosened the fitting. He took the lace off completely. He looked me in the eyes and pulled down the rest of the skirt. He placed one hand tightly over my vagina, and the other on my lower stomach. He then pushed down. I squealed as I felt my bladder spasm. He removed his hand. It was dripping wet. I’d managed to stop myself from letting go. He pulled my skirt back up, reattached the lace, and left the room.[/i]
[b]I'll post the next part on Monday. Please message me if you would like a preview.[/b]
[b][u]Part One.[/u][/b]
[i]It was 09:00. I left in a hurry and was feeling the urge to visit a bathroom. At this moment in time, I didn’t realise how long it would be before I had the opportunity to relieve myself. I was on the mini-bus, travelling to the airport. I was in my dance gear (pictured in my profile photograph – message me for a larger version of it), and so quite a bit of attention was heading my way when we arrived at the airport. I went to go to the bathroom, but the queue was quite lengthy. We were cutting time quite short, so I agreed to put it off until we’d been through security. I was starting to feel the urge badly, but I still wasn’t too concerned. The queue for security was long and repetitive. Each time we stopped, I was having to stand with my legs crossed. At the front of the line, I was asked to step to one side. I was told that other people were complaining about my clothing, and that I would have to take a different travel option if I was to stay in my dancing gear.
I was taken into a room and told to take a seat. I sat down and crossed my legs. If I had to rate my current situation (10 being beyond my limit, 1 being completely fine), I would probably pick 7. I wasn’t comfortable at all now. “Is there any chance I can visit the bathroom?” I was told I couldn’t. Again, I wasn’t overly concerned yet. I was asked why I was wearing my dancing gear. “I have a tight schedule. I need to go straight to the arena when I land in Spain.” A few minutes passed. Somebody walked into the room and sat down opposite me. A passenger booked on the previous flight had missed his check-in, and he had been offered a ticket on my flight. My flight was fully booked, and so somebody had to give up their place for him. Since I’d been held aside, they had given him my ticket. “When is the next flight?” I was told it would be four hours. “I need to be on this flight!” I had no choice. They had started boarding, and I hadn’t made it through security yet. I was edging closer to an 8 on the scale. I could sit still, but only just. I had my legs tightly crossed.
“Can I use the bathroom yet?” Negative. I was told I would have to wait until I made it through security. Once through security, I would be taken to a waiting area until my flight was boarding. I would then be taken to my plane, where I would have the opportunity to use the on-board facilities. After being told that, I started to worry. Another employee entered the room and told me to follow them. I stood up, and that was the first time I realised how quickly I was filling up. I was close to an 8 on the scale. Despite this, I was still able to walk normally. It was a long walk. When we finally stopped, I was asked to lay down on a table. “Why?” I was told it was a medical check. All the dancers have one carried out when they travel through the airport. It wasn’t until I laid down that I realised my bladder was bulging. I was told that it would be a quick 20-minute check-up, and then I would be taken through security. To start with, they asked me a few standard questions. My name (Emily), my nationality (British), my age (17, at the time), my reason for travelling (dance competition) and my destination (Spain). Next, I was asked to stay completely still with my hands by my side.
A male entered the room. He was in his mid-20s, possibly late-20s. He placed both his hands on my hips and grabbed me tightly. His hands were cold. It came as a shock to me. I was struggling to lay flat without crossing my legs. I tried to reposition myself, but he took hold of my legs. He grabbed the top of one of my knee-high socks and slowly rolled it down my leg. He took it off. He repeated the same process with my other sock. His hands moved back up my legs. He took hold of the white lace on my skirt and adjusted the fitting, making it tighter. It added an incredible amount of pressure to my bladder. I bit my tongue as hard as I could to avoid making a sound. He continued to tighten it until it would not move any further. A burning sensation started, but quickly stopped as he loosened the fitting. He took the lace off completely. He looked me in the eyes and pulled down the rest of the skirt. He placed one hand tightly over my vagina, and the other on my lower stomach. He then pushed down. I squealed as I felt my bladder spasm. He removed his hand. It was dripping wet. I’d managed to stop myself from letting go. He pulled my skirt back up, reattached the lace, and left the room.[/i]
[b]I'll post the next part on Monday. Please message me if you would like a preview.[/b]
