My first job after high school was as a cashier at a retail store at the nearby mall. The pay was okay, the people working and shopping there were friendly and polite, and my supervisors were pretty accommodating with me taking classes. Unfortunately, retail gets really hectic as the holidays approach. I got some first-hand experience with this fact one particularly busy night, and it was an experience I will never forget.
It all started innocuously enough during my lunch break. I had a sandwich and a large soda in the food court. It was really good, and I almost lost track of the time. Glancing at my watch I realize I don’t have much time left, so I gulp down the last of my drink and head back to my store. As I’m walking, I feel the first signal of a need to urinate, but I don’t give it much thought. Besides, I need to sign back in and get back to my register. I don’t want to keep anyone from taking their break.
As I get back to the break room to sign back in, I realize I probably should go to the bathroom. My boss is there, though, and I really don’t have more time. I head back to my register and pass the word on to a coworker that they can now take their break. It’s still quite busy, but I’m not the only one working at this set of registers, so business isn’t too overwhelming. I’m able to focus on my work and ignore the fluids building up in my bladder.
About an hour or so later, the throngs of people have subsided and it is pretty quiet. Large piles of merchandise that customers decided they did not want as they were in line have accumulated at the registers, which my coworkers and I will need to put away. The fluids I drank during my break have all but finished making their way to my bladder. I feel the sudden pang of discomfort and shift on my feet. I am not too worried at this point, I know I have another break coming up.
I don’t feel like staying late to put stuff away, so while I do not have anyone queued at my register, I collect an assortment of items to put away. The walking çanakkale seks hikayeleri and the way my belt and pants fit across my stomach makes me I feel a modest amount of discomfort in my stretching bladder. Soon, it’s all I can think about. I know I have a break coming up and my bladder isn’t so full that I should be worried. Perhaps all the stories I had been reading about accidents was making me over-react and panic now that I might be facing the prospect of having one. Despite my fears, I know I can hold it. Probably….
Heading back to my register, I was hopeful I would be getting my next break within the next hour. After cleaning up the registers, I continued to check out customers. My bladder wasn’t so full that it was distracting, but it was definitely the first thing on my mind when my job was not. As the night went on and the sale rush died down, I had less and less to keep me occupied. I was uncomfortable, but I could deal with it until my break.
My supervisor came out to my register bank and told my coworker she could take her break. I casually asked my supervisor if I should take my last break when my coworker got back. She made a confused face and looked over the schedule, then told me that I do not get a break because I am not working enough hours tonight.
This wasn’t the first time I made the first time of planning for breaks I did not have. This time, it was a problem though. The fluids I had drank throughout the day had made their way to my bladder and I was getting urgent signals to go to the bathroom. Making this worse is the fact that I am the only one at my set of registers and cannot just walk off to the bathroom and take a piss. I start to get worried realizing I would be standing around with a bursting bladder for about an hour and a half.
Time is moving at an agonizingly slow pace. I have to keep readjusting my pants to keep my belt from pulling in too tightly on my bladder. It is hard to stand still, but I leaning back against the counter and clenching my legs helps. I try to occupy myself by cleaning up the displays near my registers, but it usually isn’t too long before some lone customer comes to me ready to ring up the purchase. A few of them try to make idle small talk, asking about how long the night is or how busy it was. I wonder if some of them know my predicament.
As my set of registers is about to close down, some straggling customers make their way to me, keeping my supervisor from closing the register and me from relief. I smile politely and bear it as best I can, and slowly my line is closed and I can count down my till. I walk with my supervisor to the break room to do just that, while inside I am willing everything to speed up so I can get to the bathroom immediately.
In the break room, I am able to sit down. I squirm in the seat and clench my legs. I am trying to count up the money in the register as quickly and accurately as I can manage with my bladder screaming for imminent relief. When I am done, I catch a little luck. My supervisor says she will turn in the register, so I can go home now. I breathe a sigh of relief and go to sign out, then head to make a much needed stop at the bathroom.
As I reach the break room door and pull it open, one of my coworkers is about to walk in. She is very attractive and about my age. Normally, this would be a pleasant encounter, but at that moment, I was muttering something under my breath about how badly I need to pee. I feel myself blush with embarrassment. I excuse myself and step out of the way to let her by.
The bathrooms are right near the break room, so all I have to do is make a quick turn. Doing that brings me to a horrible sight. The men’s rooms is blocked off for cleaning. The door squeaks closed slowly as the janitor is just stepping in. I curse under my breath. My bladder sensed release was so close, but is to be denied again. I feel a spasm and can’t help but squirm and jam my hand into my crotch as I clench my legs together tightly. With my protesting bladder under control, I decide to drive home rather than wait out the cleaning.
I mentally prepare myself and my aching bladder for a half hour drive and turn to go home. I am horrified again to see the same sexy young coworker who had heard my not so silent confession of desperation just a moment ago still standing at the break room door. Our eyes meet, and I realize she has been watching me this whole time. I feel myself blush bright red thinking about how she must have seen me squirming and holding myself. She tries to mask an excited, devilish smirk with an innocent smile. I walk past hurriedly as we exchange courteous goodbyes.
I get into my car quickly, and just as quickly, I am fidgeting in the seat trying to keep my pent up urine in my bladder. The embarrassment it has just caused me makes things worse now. I am in disbelief that my coworker and friend had just seen me looking like I was about to pee myself. I put my seatbelt on, squeeze my legs together, press my free hand between them, and start the engine.
Driving while bursting to piss is hard. I constantly want to move and shift and squirm around, but I cannot or will likely have a much more dangerous type of accident to worry about. My leg is bouncing and it feels like I will pee my pants if I stop. There isn’t much traffic, so I don’t have much to worry about there. The stoplights are a mixed blessing. Although I know they are delaying me getting to a bathroom, they also give me a little time to squirm and do what I need to do to hold it.
Finally, my desperate drive comes to an end. Parking the car turns out to be quite challenging. There isn’t much room in my garage, so I have to keep twisting and turning to make sure I don’t hit anything. I wince as I get out of the car, holding myself. I lock the garage, pee-pee dancing and fumbling with the keys, then again to get in the house. With relief so close, I cannot do anything but run straight to the toilet, clutching myself all the way. I am barely able to tear open my zipper and pull out my penis before my bladder releases and I take the most relieving piss of my life.