Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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For those who have an interest in an experience where a lady’s bladder became so full it protruded very noticeably and became a turn-on for her partner, I can offer this story. I must warn you, I am over fifty and if you are not interested in the incident involving a mature woman, this is not for you. But, if you want to know how this author recognized the erotic impact of desperation, read on.
My husband and I took a trip to India a few years ago. We stayed once at an older hotel, where the facilities and air conditioning were not terribly good, and had booked a bus tour through several sites of the surrounding country. The bus was to leave in the morning, and not return until late afternoon. This was India in the late spring, and it was hot- over a hundred degrees in the morning, and rising.
I dressed in shorts and a thin shirt, preparing for the heat. My partner warned me to drink lots of fluid, as in these high temperatures we were going to be sweating profusely. Both of us consumed several glasses of water and soft drinks before boarding the bus, and carried a supply of drinks for the day.
It was indeed hot outside, but the bus was air conditioned. As we drove, it got colder, and in my brief attire I was chilly. With all the liquid I had consumed, after being cold for a while, I was feeling a need to urinate. However, it wasn’t that bad, and I just waited. We made several stops, at each of which we were outside for quite a while, in the extreme heat. Between stops we were on the bus, where it rapidly grew very cool.
We made a lunch stop at a small village. I ate little, in the heat, but drank quite a bit because we were sweating and I was dehydrating. After lunch, we were invited to use the local restroom facilities before boarding the bus. On entering the facility for women, I found myself in a cement walled room filled with women, queued up to use the “facilities”- which consisted of three holes in the floor. The users simply squatted over the holes. The floor and walls were covered with black slimy grit, and looked like they hadn’t been cleaned in fifty years. The were no partitions, no privacy of any kind. güvenilir bahis There was only one window. It was extremely hot, the place was crowded, the line was long, and the stench was unbelievable. While some of our group made use of it, I simply left – figuring whatever it took, I would just hold on. I couldn’t take that place.
The men’s facility was either less offensive or the men were less affected. My husband had relieved himself. I considered looking for a concealed place outside, but there was no place of privacy. I knew I had good bladder control, and decided simply to wait, however uncomfortable I became.
The day went on. My husband noticed I was grimacing and squirming, but holding on. The paradox was that at every stop I was drinking liquids and feeling dehydrated because of the intense heat, yet I had a very full bladder which the cold of the bus accentuated, and I could find no place to empty it. By mid-afternoon I was really in pain. Several of the other women had either used one of the local facilities, which I couldn’t stomach; or refused to drink, which I feared would expose me to heatstroke. My husband was acting sympathetically, but he had relieved himself several times during the day, and I suspected he was at least slightly enjoying my predicament. Toward late afternoon, my bladder was hard and swollen under my shorts, and to show him how bad it was, I told him to feel my abdomen.
When we finally got to the hotel, I was in agony. I was still in control, but the pain was awful. We went up to our room. Before we even opened the door, I had started to unbutton my clothes. When we entered, the air conditioning was working poorly, and it was hot. There was a fan, and I stopped in front of it long enough to kick off my shoes, throw off my sweaty shirt, and drop my shorts, soaking up the air blast as I did so. My mate stood by, looking at me in profile. With nothing on but my underpants and bra, I turned to run into the bathroom, but he stopped me with an exclamation. He said something like, “can that be you? I never saw that before!” I stopped and stared, despite my intense discomfort. He went on and said, “I türkçe bahis ‘ve got to see this – I wouldn’t believe it – won’t you take off the underpants?” Amazed, I pulled off my panties and looked at him- then at what he was staring at.
He was looking at the front of my abdomen (not that he hasn’t seen it often before). It was bulging out very obviously – probably sticking out at least an inch and a half. The protruding part was round, and very hard to the touch. It extended from just under my navel down to my pubic hair. He immediately put his hand to it and felt it. I protested, but he insisted on examining it. It told him it was my bladder, and that I needed instantly to empty it, because it was so painful. Even I was a bit intrigued at its appearance – I had never before seen myself so swollen. Now I am well past fifty, and several pregnancies have left my abdominal muscles a lot less firm that they once were, so usually my abdomen protrudes a little, but it usually feels soft. Now there was no softness, it was all hard, and protruding as I had never seen it before. My mate was fascinated, and kept wanting to look at it and feel it. I was tugging away, anxious to get to the bathroom, fidgeting, and doing the classic pee dance, shifting from one leg to the other while he gently palpated my extremely full bladder. While fidgeting, I unhooked my bra and threw it off, planning to head for the toilet and then a shower.
I told him how much it was hurting, and to just let me go, but he begged me to delay a moment. I could sense he was not only fascinated, but aroused. My abdomen looked and felt as though it had a baseball inside. I could hardly bear the pain. He reached up and touched my breasts, and said something – I don’t recall the words, but the idea was an invitation to sex. I reacted by indicating OK, as soon as I go to the bathroom. His response was “No – the way you are now!” I remember his words. Obviously my badly distended bladder and intense discomfort was a turn-on for him. It wasn’t to me, but I just wanted to get it over with so I could relieve myself. I gritted my teeth and told him OK, but hurry, and that I couldn’t have güvenilir bahis siteleri him on top of me because my bottom could take no pressure.
I didn’t watch him, but I know he was undressed in seconds. I wasn’t much interested, just wanted to get it over with and end the agony, but I was, rather reluctantly, willing to accommodate him if I could just hold on long enough. It did occur to me that my pelvic muscles were so tightly clenched that he might not be able to even enter me. What did happen was that we had a big mechanical problem. I knew he couldn’t be on top of me, and I couldn’t even lay on him. We tried to couple standing up, but my abdomen was so hard and swollen we couldn’t get the angle right. Finally he just laid on the floor (in the heat, the bed was far too hot) and had me lower myself on top of him, in a sitting posture. To my surprise, his organ entered me easily, despite my tightened muscles. He said something about me feeling like a vise, but at the time I didn’t care.
Then I experienced a strange feeling. I’ve had full-bladder sex before, but never in a condition this extreme. At first the pain was awful, but as he moved a bit, I must have been aroused more than I could realize. The extreme pressure and stretched, swollen feeling was still there, but it changed a bit – it was no longer painful, it was even a bit enjoyable. I couldn’t understand it. Suddenly I climaxed, quite unexpectedly. For a moment I feared losing bladder control, as I understand some women do when this happens, but mine held on. My muscles stayed tight. His orgasm came a few moments later. We stayed together a few moments, sweating, exhausted, as the feeling within me returned to agonizing pain again.
I got up, heading for the bathroom, and my mate was right behind me. I felt like I couldn’t bend, or sit, I just needed to relieve my pain. I stepped into the tiled shower area, spread my legs and let go. My mate stood and watched, as I poured out the biggest, strongest stream I had ever experienced. It went on and on, and while he looked, the swelling in my bottom parts gradually subsided.
Afterwards, it was several days before I could easily hold my pee more than an hour or so at a time – my bladder’s revenge, I suppose. I can recall this now as I something I enjoyed in some sort of perverse way, but I’ve never felt like going through it again.
Ben Esra telefonda seni bosaltmami ister misin?
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