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Looking up he noticed spotted Barnaby Timpson, a tall, lanky youth who worked in Enforcement, walking towards him carrying plastic beaker of what passed for tea in that place and a sizeable bar of milk chocolate. Anne poured a large glass of apple juice for Adam and a glass of Chardonnay each for herself and Barnaby. Adam couldn't help feeling a sense of displeasure that his privacy had been intruded on by prying ears but at the same time felt there was a compliment in Barnaby's remark to be appreciated. With that, Barnaby closed the bathroom door behind him and in barely the time it would have take him to get undressed, Adam could hear the shower running.
As I'm sure you're all aware both Charmaine and Omar had accidents, neither of which surprised either Mrs Glenson or myself. I fully expected to have ten wet students by the end of the day so I think it's pretty fair to say that the outcome way exceeded my expectations. Some, well most of you in fact, were pretty frantic by the time we got back especially, Cathy, Holly, Jack and Jonah. Also I would like to pay a special tribute to Anne who nearly left us but in the end showed both courage and good sense by sticking the course out. Omar and Charmaine, you've both done very well despite yesterday's little setbacks.
They'd been married for long enough and Brian probably knew the truth, but Anne realised there were times when it was expedient to tell him what he wanted to hear, and this was one such occasion. Last but by no means least I must pay tribute to my beautiful long-suffering wife, Anne, without whose love, patience, good humour and hard work I would have stood no chance of ever representing you in parliament." Anne blushed, trying to clean herself up as best she could, getting through countless sheets of toilet paper and grateful there was a plentiful supply of the stuff. Brian's got his dreams for now but I don't think he'll be the Woodchester MP for long.
Mission accomplished, Anne further congratulated herself that despite the isolated toot whilst helping Brian pack, she'd not farted once on the way to the airport. Much as she enjoyed the sensation, Anne soon realised that if she didn't get to a toilet quickly she'd end up in a mess sooner or later. Much though she disliked using public loos she realised that stopping off for a shit in Woodchester was her only option if damage to her jeans and the car seat were to be avoided. Pulling up outside the Bishop's Palace, Anne got of the car and walked as briskly as she dared across College Green towards what she hoped would be a source of much needed relief in the nick of time.
Miss Sarah boarded the minibus and found Anne defiantly sat in her seat, arms crossed and clearly in no mood to co-operate. Look Anne, if it's what you really want you can pack your bags and leave the moment we get back. All sorts of people come on this course from every walk of life you can imagine and some you can't - or perhaps would rather not think about. A fair number of my students have made it big in one way or another - except they haven't mastered the art of controlling the need to wee so that it only ever happens when they want it to.
Unable to stop it if she'd tried, Anne was mortified as an odious fart, smelling not unlike rotten eggs, escaped from her pert bottom. It was with some trepidation that Anne knocked on the door of Professor Snowden's study. "Assignment?" Although she knew full well what he was referring to, Anne decided to act dumb, if only to buy herself a little thinking time. "The assignment you were supposed to hand in last week, Anne Glenning, and the one you promised me would be completed for today." If you don't complete the required number of assignments - on time – the university won't award you a degree at the end of the course. Hoping he knew nothing of the battle raging in her guts, Anne found words to answer the professor.
Brian was a little puzzled by his Anne's cryptic comments but he'd been married to her for long enough to know when it was wise to pursue a line of questioning and when it was better left. As his wife was on tonic water, Brian decided to opt for a pint of best bitter as he thought it would look odd if he sipped a glass of Merlot or Chardonnay alone. Anne knew perfectly well that Brian couldn't last for three hours without a wee, especially when coffee preceded the event and that, of course, was the real reason behind his decision to skip the seminar. Brian was beginning to feel the need to pee increasingly badly now and it worried him that his wife was intent on prolonging the evening.
Few things felt better than a long holding session culminating in the sheer joy of a delightful warm wetness as she soaked herself like the naughtiest of naughty housewives. Earlier that morning she'd nipped down to the village in her tight blue jeans in order to pick up some stamps and the Daily Telegraph. That had been two hours ago and, although Anne had been unable to resist crossing and uncrossing her legs for effect whilst in the Post Office, she'd not been desperate then, just quite capable of peeing if she'd wanted to. Unwilling to hold it in for any longer, Anne began peeing and started to release little spurts which soon turned into a cascade.
"Good afternoon Miss Sarah." Whilst working at home, more often than not in the mornings, I can drink enough coffee and coke ro sink a battleship but seemingly last for hours without needing to pee. Sometimes I undo my pants and let it hang out so if I did need to pee I could just go there and then if I was in the mood. It doesn't matter what I have or haven't drunk, when I last peed or not, I can guarantee that once out of my apartment I will need to pee within a couple of hours if not sooner. Luckily I'm the sort of guy who can need to pee pretty badly for quite a long time before I've got to find a bathroom urgently.
As she struggled with the zip, Anne felt a large spurt of pee escape from her pussy, splashing into her panties. Eventually freeing her zip, Anne froze as she felt a turd easing its way out of her bottom into the seat of her panties. Cutting one of those wonderful eggy farts (she'd not been nicknamed 'eggy' in a previous life for nothing) Anne head a familiar crackling noise as a large turd snaked its way out of her bottom and landed on the woodland floor. Anne looked up and smiling down at her was Sarah Worthington, an old friend from her nursing days on the Urology unit in Newcastle.
Looking across the bedroom though he noticed a pair of cream satin panties trimmed with black lace which Anne had recently bought at one of the sales in Woodchester. Although he didn't consider himself to be a cross dresser as such, Brian had recently wondered what Anne's panties felt like to wear. Mesmerised by the feel and texture of Anne's panties, Brian didn't hear his wife's car in the drive, her key in the door, or soft footsteps on the stairs. Whilst Anne's back was turned to do the toast he reached up his skirt and squeezed his aching cock through the satin panties. Before she could reply Brian lost control, totally wetting the sumptuous satin panties he was wearing as well as the back of the skirt.
Anne Glenson sat at her desk and quietly completed some paperwork whilst Tom Braithwaite, her last remaining student, put the finishing touches to the drawing he was working on. "I know you do, Tom. Remember the time I caught you looking at those rather 'interesting' websites in the college library? I'd be able to offer you a free place, not least of all because I know you're not known for going anywhere near the college toilets and I'm sure you'd be a great example to the other students on the course." Tom could feel his cock stiffening at the thought of his favourite teacher - the one he actually got on with - holding her pee in all day.
Opportunities to indulge that pleasure since had been taken when available, although they'd been limited by what was for all practical purposes an 'arranged' marriage to Brian - a man who whilst kind didn't understand and regarded farting or worse, messed panties, as just plain dirty. As she drove along the A17 towards Sutton Bridge, Anne recalled the conversation she'd had earlier that morning whilst packing for the homeward journey, when a couple of isolated farts had escaped from her posterior. Always lucky here herself in the past, she'd heard anecdotal stories that this bridge wasn't a good place to get stuck if one needed a pee, but no one she knew had ever recounted any tales of needing to poo whilst waiting to cross it.
Wendy, her best friend, had asked if she'd go and open the new toilets which had just been installed at her village hall. For three years Anne had helped Wendy with fund raising for the new loos and played an active part on the village hall committee. Knowing Wendy as I do, I think she would rather have had the Queen here to open the new toilets and this Sale of Work but Her Majesty was otherwise engaged and so you've got to make do with me instead. With that she stepped back, another larger spurt of pee escaping into her knickers, and holding herself was escorted by Wendy at great speed to the new ladies loo.
I had to placate an extremely irate Mrs Glenson yesterday evening and I have to tell you she was not in the slightest bit amused by your little performance in her class. You're a grown woman, for goodness sake, and you've worked in an industry where people have to hold it sometimes. All you had to do was hold it for half an hour until Mrs Glenson's class was over. To be blunt Mrs Glenson thinks you did it deliberately either, as a form of attention seeking or, because you simply wanted to take the piss out of her. When your bladders get the message that it's not a big deal - and I'm confident they will - you'll be able to exercise control and hold so much more easily.
"Good morning Miss Sarah." Your kegel exercises went fairly well last night considering what happened earlier in the day, although I think more work still needs to be done. Matron was, however, disappointed to find both your beds soaking wet this morning. Like her I only wet the bed very occasionally but when it happens I just wake up totally sodden. To put it bluntly I'm inclined to think you woke up and, like Andrew, fancied a sneaky wee between the sheets. I know you weren't wearing panties or a nightie last night and I'm always a little wary of people who sleep in the buff.
We won't get it the way we want in time for this year's summer course but we can at least make it decent." My plan is that once the fitness centre and holding courses get running I'll arrange for students to arrive on Monday afternoons and do their induction then so I won't require your services until Tuesdays. I imagine the college terms will be ending shortly and you'll be free over the summer – at least part of the time – unless you and Archie are planning on going away for eight weeks which I doubt." Sarah looked as white as a sheet and Anne noticed for the first time that she had her hands clasped between her legs.
Anne stood to one side as her husband, Councillor Brian Timpson, laid his wreath at the town's war memorial and a bugler played the Last Post. As they approached the church, Brian squeezed his wife's hand and gently whispered "Are you alright?" Forcing a smile, Anne replied "Yes. I'm absolutely fine." Brian knew his wife well enough to be sure that she certainly wasn't 'fine' by a long way. By now Anne could feel herself beginning to lose control and a large spurt of pee escaped into her panties as they crossed the Market Place. Anne wasn't quite sure how she felt about Brian's comment "you were at your best and didn't let me down" although she knew what he meant and, for once, bit her tongue.
"Omar, it might buy you time – twenty minutes or so in the short term – but surely you must know from experience that if you cum it'll make you want to go worse. I know the ladies are keen to get a little retail therapy in, there's are plenty of interesting historic buildings in the centre and the Cathedral's well worth looking at. When Miss Worthington's parked up will split into two groups – she can supervise the ladies and I'll keep an eye on the gentlemen for a change. The ladies can then go shopping with Miss Worthington if that's what they want to do and I can do something else if necessary with the gentlemen."
Matron checked the beds this morning whilst you were having breakfast and I'm afraid they didn't all get a clean bill of health. "I'm sorry Miss but it wasn't a case of waking up in the night and needing the toilet. Look I'm sure I'm not the only person here who wets the bed occasionally. We may as well give the gentleman a little entertainment and, given the amount of liquid imbibed at breakfast time I'm sure some of them are in need of a helping hand." Jack, we're going to do some exercises which, with any luck, will give you such a level of control that that one woman in ten is quite fearless about having a cock inside her which is attached to a full bladder."
It was perhaps not altogether surprising that Anne was determined to avoid wetting herself whilst out canvassing if possible and it was rapidly become apparent that her only option was to knock on a door and ask to use somebody's loo. The man looked at Anne with disdain but there was a distinct bulge in his trousers which hadn't been there before she'd mentioned her (now urgent) need of a loo. "Sir, my husband cares a great deal about parliamentary standards and, like all the other candidates, he's committed to making sure that sort of thing doesn't happen again. Unable to hold her pee a second longer, Anne parted her legs and peed hard, her golden stream landing on the concrete of the garden path.
Toilet opportunities were few and far between so when they came you had to take full advantage and let it all out in a big way. I was brought up to go to the toilet when I wanted but I've found that working in the industry I do, opportunities to go don't always happen when I most need a pee. In order to avoid accidents I tried cutting back on my fluid intake but a friend told me it was bad for my kidneys to do that so I try to drink a fairly normal amount and then hold it in until a loo opportunity presents itself.
Also Mum was normally at the Institute on Tuesday afternoons, singing 'Jerusalem' and swapping jam recipes with her friends, so Anne thought she stood a good chance of getting home and cleaned up without anyone being the wiser. Lathering herself with that expensive soap her mother liked to buy, Anne relaxed as the lovely warm water cascaded around her, savouring every moment of the experience. Although less than an hour had passed since the unplanned wetting of her jeans, Anne parted her legs and peed as hard as she could, her amber fluid mixing with, and finally being washed away, by the water that cascaded from the shower.
Brian had gone off to follow the hunt which traditionally met in the Market Place on a New Year's morning, whilst Barnaby and Adam had left early for a non-league football match up in Yorkshire. She had it in mind to take a toilet roll and drive to the woods outside Woodchester where she'd find a favourite clearing, drop her jeans and squat down for an amazing alfresco poo. Still cutting smelly farts, Anne was now in no doubt that the pleasant feeling of being overdue for a poo had turned to desperation – desperation which increased by the minute as she drove through the commercial heart of lower Woodchester, up past the Cathedral, Prison, Hospital and finally the University where, in her younger days, she'd lectured.
Clearly not a person to hang about, Anne quickly had the task completed to her satisfaction, Adam gently being guided in the direction first of the underwear department where a dozen pairs of pants and eight pairs of boxer shorts were picked up. Resigned to the fact that Anne appeared to have taken charge of the afternoon, Adam shrugged and headed off in search of the book stores which, being fairly central, weren't hard to find. "Adam it's only a suspicion, and I hope you'll forgive me if I'm wrong, but I've got a feeling I'm not the only one in our house who likes to hold their pee."
With Barnaby at the rugby club and Anne at church, Adam had the house to himself for the first time since arriving the previous Friday evening. Although Adam wasn't a bedwetter he was glad to know that Anne clearly had a relaxed attitude to such things and he wondered whether Barnaby's bed was similarly protected – particularly in view of his interests. "Anne if you need the bathroom I'd better go," he stammered, standing up and trying to put his throbbing, swollen cock back in his briefs at the same time. In fact I knew that if Aunt Anne didn't go to the toilet soon she'd shit herself and I think she realised that too as she headed straight for the bathroom.
Should you choose to leave us before completing the course I must warn you that we are regularly approached for references and we have a duty of candour to those who approach us in good faith. Please note that all bathroom and toilet use will be strictly supervised at all times - either by Matron or myself. If any of the ladies foresee that happening you must tell Matron and she will issue you with our approved sanitary protection, your use of which will take place strictly under our close supervision." You're all adults and Matron and I firmly believe you should be able to view whatever you wish during that generous allocation of 'me time' which we've worked into the timetable for you.
She thought she'd put his suggestion to the test though and then write to him, explaining that if car users people were to be coaxed back on to public transport it would need a significant investment of taxpayer's money to bring buses and trains up to scratch. Claire turned to her, trying to look and sound sympathetic, whilst thinking all the time that her old friend had scored an own goal. Claire gave her a sympathetic look but Anne felt as though everyone on the bus knew about her predicament and was judging her. Soon the bus pulled up at the stop where Anne got off and Claire followed her.
They'd originally intended to vote two hours earlier, upon returning from work, but had taken one look at the queue outside the polling station and thought better of it. Although they were slowly getting closer to the polling station, the queue remained a long one and Barnaby glanced anxiously at Adam, slipping his hand down to his crotch, as he did so. Not waiting to get his ballot paper, Barnaby shot off to the gents toilets, unzipped his cock which had quit all attempts at holding back the tide, and peed hard for a good two minutes into the long metal urinal. "No. I'm sorry sir but it's just gone ten o'clock and by law you've got to have the ballot paper before ten if you're to vote."
Whatever else might be said about Aunt Anne, in Barnaby's experience she always had a smile on her face, had never been cross with him and, coming from a different branch of the family (she was a Timpson by marriage, not blood) was decidedly more liberal than his mother. Although Alice half dragged into her bed, Barnaby certainly needed no invitation. Although he hated to admit it, Barnaby knew that he couldn't lie to Alice. A voice they both recognised rang across the room and Barnaby looked up in terror to see his Aunt Anne in the doorway, a pile of fresh linen in her arms. Alice obediently headed to the bathroom and Barnaby looked pleadingly at his aunt. "That sounds like blackmail, Aunt Anne," Barnaby replied.
They'd started filming at ten and, despite the passage of some three hours enjoying taking that glorious early morning relief, he'd felt fine at the time. Jonah could feel his cock stiffening at the sight of Carla and felt the sap rising as three days' supply of cum started to ease itself into his urethra. Despite being painfully aware of his growing need to pee, Jonah thought it wouldn't seem right if he settled for a small coffee whilst Carla drank what was in effect a bucketload. To his surprise Jonah discovered that walking - and he had to be brisk to keep up with Carla - helped to ease his discomfort and his tail was still semi hard from her stroking earlier.
Painfully aware of her all too plain features, Anne had decided that with the arrival of the mini skirt the time had come to show off her best assets. Perhaps the thought that wearing that mini skirt to school might not be the best thing to do, hadn't entered her head. Mr Carson pointed an accusing finger in the direction of Anne's skirt as she crossed, then uncrossed her legs, affording him a flash of her clean white maxi knickers as she did so. Anne didn't consider it any of Bill Carson's business to tell her whether she should go to the lavatory or not and wanted him to know what she thought.
In need of a poo all morning, she'd actually begun farting twenty minutes earlier whilst still at Wendy's, and Wendy had asked her if she'd like to use the facilities ahead of hitting the open road. Out in the open air it would have been more manageable but the car was a confined space and even after forty years experience of her own farts, some of which had been quite ripe in their day, Anne didn't believe she could smell quite so bad. After what seemed like hours but was really no more than another fifteen minutes, Anne passed the familiar welcome signs to her home town of Attleton Market and drove as quickly as she could to the smart Seventies cul-de-sac where the home she and Brian shared was to be found.
Glad of the warmth of her bed -- and of a centrally heated house -- she decided that today would not be a day for going far if at all possible. Almost always fully clad in pyjamas for twelve months of the year, Brian had insisted in the early days of their marriage that Anne had to at least wear panties in bed if nothing else. Brian would have a duck fit if he knew she was lying completely naked in their bed with an early morning bladder that cried out to be emptied. As Brian wasn't around to get on to her, Anne toyed for a few minutes with the idea of being really disgraceful, parting her legs and discharging all that pent up pee between the sheets.
Wendy had lost count of the number of times over the years she'd heard Anne say "I'm fine" when she certainly wasn't 'fine' but she'd still not altogether grasped the futility of arguing with her friend. Wendy looked across at Anne and noticed with alarm that her friend had one hand on the steering wheel and the other pressed tightly into the crotch of her jeans. Anne shrugged, continuing to fidget and hoping she'd make it to those loos at the end of College Green, near the Cathedral in time. "Yes, Ma'am," Anne gasped, breathing a sigh of relief as the Queen, completely ignoring Wendy, went on to chat to other well wishers further along the barrier.
Anne Glenson was most certainly not in the best of moods. Sarah Worthington had warned her that the latest crop of students on the Proud Holders Residential Course were a challenging lot and she intended to show them who was boss. Unable to hold a second longer, Linsey Dawn flooded her panties and jeans, soaking the mat into the process. "Linsey Dawn, Matron is coming for you and will sort you out. I don't know whether you did that deliberately or not but I'm very disappointed and, trust me, I will most certainly be having words with Miss Worthington about you. "Right now can we please get on with a few gentle exercises in the precious little time we've got left. Miss Worthington was right.
Anne's bottom felt full and it wasn't surprising since she'd not done a poo since Thursday lunchtime, a memorable event in itself as she'd nearly clogged the staff toilet at school. One such accident had happened a year or so earlier at school, luckily only half an hour before the end of afternoon lessons, but the headmaster hadn't been pleased and he'd made it quite plain to her that if she needed to go for a shit she was to use the staff toilets, preferably at break or lunchtime, not fill her knickers. Nothing felt better than holding a good poo in when she needed to go really badly and the feeling which had actually been bewing for some time was now getting intense.
The purpose of the coffee morning had been to raise funds for new loos for the community hall in Wendy's village. Typically Anne's reaction had been to deny that was the case whilst firmly declining to use a toilet when in Wendy's company unless it was absolutely unavoidable. However it hadn't developed into a desperate need and she imagined she would alright so long as she went for a good pee as soon as she got home. Biting her lip whilst attempting to look pleased at seeing Claire, Anne realised that she wasn't going to get away in a hurry. Resigned to her fate, and trying hard to conceal her increasingly desperate need for the loo, Anne listened patiently and kept her own words as brief as possible.