The Subway

It wasn't until she was on the subway, holding tightly to her bag of sex toys and texting her boyfriend with one hand, that she realized how badly she needed to piss.

Eliza had gotten off work and bolted straight home, desperate to get ready and head to Nathan's as soon as possible: she had showered and changed her clothes, grabbed a snack, and fingered herself a little while she waited for the coffee to brew, teasing herself with the anticipation of knowing his thick cock would soon be inside her.

And once she had packed her overnight bag, she had headed out the door and straight to the subway stop down the block. It wasn't until she had sunk into her seat in the dim corner of the subway car that she realized her bladder was uncomfortably full. Merely sitting put too much pressure on her abdomen, which she realized was bulging a little. She looked at the coffee in her hand, already half-gone on the walk to get here.

Then she looked at the subway map on the wall opposite, making some fast calculations.

Nathan was about 6 stops away, and at 5 minutes per stop, it would take her a half hour until she got out of the subway car, and then another five minutes until she made it up the multiple sets of stairs and escalators to reach the public bathrooms at ground level...

She squeezed her knees together. She didn't know if she could make it that long, when she was already trying not to clutch her pelvis with her hand, when she was already rocking back and forth a little, when the urge to let a little pee escape was nearly overpowering.

She looked around the subway car nervously. There were a couple people sitting opposite, and further down the train - if no one came nearer, she might be able to surreptitiously relieve herself. But she also didn't have anything to piss into.

If she were a man, it would be a simple thing to find a cast-off plastic bottle, plug up the opening with the tip of a cock, and fill it with piss. But as it was, she had nothing to staunch or soak up the flow: she wasn't even wearing panties, as she had eschewed them in favor of showing up to Nathan's house bare.

She rifled through her bag of sex toys, unconscious of the way she jiggled her legs with the need to pee. There was nothing in the bag suitable for her to use right now. What if the public facilities in the subway lobby were out of order? What if she made it all the way to Nathan's, but his roommate was in the bathroom and she accidentally wet herself in their living room?

She looked up at the map again. They hadn't even reached the first of six stops. Eliza released the breath she was holding and realized that she wasn't going to make it. But she also had no options or alternatives - if she didn't want to piss herself right here, she was going to have to hold it.

For three stops, Eliza wiggled and jiggled and tapped her foot and crossed her legs and tried to focus on her curling toes, her bouncing leg, anything other than the need growing inside her. She read the subway map over and over. She examined the advertisements, and then the foreign language advertisements. She smiled at a baby in a carriage.

And all the while, her wriggling and shuddering only increased. She was perched right on the edge of the seat, trying to clamp down on the growing pressure. She was scared she might cough or sneeze and completely lose control, spraying wildly all over the train car, and collapsing in a puddle of piss and pleasure.

By stop four, Eliza was feeling panicked and desperate. The only thing on her mind was the thought of pissing, of completely emptying herself, of total release - at this point, she almost didn't care who watched her. She needed relief. She was bouncing in her seat.

It had reached the point where Eliza was fantasizing about pissing boldly, on the ground, in full view, when the subway arrived at stop #5 and almost everyone else disembarked. Now Eliza was only one of a few occupants, and they were all sitting or sleeping at the far end of the car.

She could hardly wait. With laser-like focus, Eliza knew exactly what she had to do.

As they re-entered the dark subway tunnel, she pressed her back into the seat, planted her feet on the ground, and lifted her ass up a few inches off the cushion. Now none of her was making contact with the seat itself, but in the darkness with her skirt fanning around her, nothing looked amiss. She spread out the folds of her skirt a little more to ensure it would stay dry and continue to cover her privacy.

She wanted to let out a few experimental drops, just to triple-check that this set-up would work before she completely unloosed her bladder. But her body, impatient, spurted out a small stream of piss in desperation before she could consciously will it to happen. She clamped down to cut off the stream as quickly as possible, then peeked surreptitiously under her skirt.

The seat was indeed soaking up what she had just fed it; it was well-contained directly under her, not spraying outward.

Eliza thought she might release a little at a time, just little spurts to take some of the pressure off, but as soon as she relaxed at the thought that she might pull this off, she was suddenly pissing, with thunderous force, straight down into the thirsty seat cushion.

"Oh," she gasped, arching her back and trying not to hum with pleasure. She glanced nervously at the passengers at the other end of the car, but no one was looking back at her as she soaked the seat with her piss.

Her stomach was fluttering as her tense muscles uncoiled, and the jet force of her stream increased. Now she could hear it hissing a little as it traveled out her urethra and buffeted the seat below.

The overwhelming need in her abdomen was fading, replaced quickly by the warm spread of pleasure.

She pissed a continuous stream for several long moments, sighing a little at the feeling of relief. She could hear it dripping down the front of the seat now, already spilling over.

As her own flood of urine slowed to a trickle, the subway began to slow down and screech as it entered the station: her final stop.

Hurriedly, Eliza stood fully and grabbed her bag, peeking at the seat behind her as she moved to the automatic doors. It was still bubbling and frothy, with pee seeping slowly into the cushion and dripping down the metal of the chair to the subway floor.

Her thighs were a little slick with pee and arousal, but that was nothing compared to the feeling of relief and satisfaction in her pelvis.

When the doors opened, Eliza held tightly to her bag of sex toys and walked out into the station, without another glance back. Nathan was waiting for her.