I ran track during high school and looking back, the Omo potential is crazy! (This totally isn’t based off one of my own experience… totally not…)
Imagine for me, a girl who is awful at time management, (definitely not anything like me) who is forced to rush to her 200 meter sprint race without using the bathroom. She already has to pee, and not just a little bit. It had been apportioning 90 all day and she had been drinking as much water as she could so she didn’t dry out like a grape. As soon as she gets to her event, she is given a lane and heat number. Unfortunately for her, she is in the last of 7 heats…
It takes the organizers awhile, giving her bladder time to make itself known. Her tight black running shorts dig into her lower stomach ever so slightly, which is driving her crazy. She would usually stretch before a race, making sure her body was loose and ready to run, but in her current situation she just wanted to get through the race so she could go use the bathroom.
When the first heat sets off at the sound of a starting pistol, our little runner girl nearly loses it. She had never liked loud noises, especially ones that catch her off guard.
It feels like an eternity until her heat finally lines up. By the time she got into her blocks her desperation had peaked. A few leaks had come out, but nobody would be able to tell. She usually hated the black skin tight shorts that she had to wear, but today they saved her from the embarrassment of a big pee stain on her crotch. As she sat there, squatting in her blocks she could feel a few more leaks soak into her shorts. She wanted to sit up and hold her crotch more tightly anything, but she knew if she did her coach and teammates would never let her hear the end of it. All she had to do was make it though this race and get to a bathroom as soon as possible.
“Ready!” The starter calls making her rase into a startling position instinctively. She held there, head down, ass in the air. Another leak escaped, sending a beed of piss running down her leg.
Then BANG! Her runners. Instinct took over and she started sprinting as fast as she possibly could. Her arms pumped fast and her legs moved in fast and long strides. Each step jostled her bladder, but somehow she held it. She focused on the finish. 100 meters, 80 meters, 60, 40, 20, and then…
Her bladder finally gave up. Her stride faltered for a second as jets of urine forced its way out her, she crossed the line and almost collapsed right onto the track. As soon as she had slowed she rushed to the grass and sat down.
As soon as her but hit the feeld she gave in. What had been spontaneous leaks and streams turned into a full on gush. She almost moaned it felt so good. A clear hissing noise emanated from her crotch, but thankfully only she could hear it. The noise and fanfare of the meet around her made it easy for her to inconspicuously relieve herself in plain sight.
She peed for almost a minute until she finally regained control. After cutting off her stream she looked around. Nobody was staring. Nobody was walking towards her with pity or anger in their eyes. She looked down. Her shorts looked fine, and the ground had seemingly absorbed her accident without issue. She stood up, feeling the warm wet fabric of her panties and shorts press against her skin. It felt weirdly good…
After leaving the field, she didn’t end up going to the bathroom as originally planned. After-all, her shorts were already soaked, so what’s the harm in peeing in them again!?
