Some years ago, I found myself working behind the bar of a small, undistinguished night-club, strictly for extra cash and only at the weekends. One Saturday night, not an amazingly busy one, I was having a drink with Alice, another barmaid, while we both waited for the manager to add up the takings and put them in the safe until Monday. I was twenty-one at the time and unattached. Alice was a year younger with a regular boyfriend. We were chatting about this and that, waiting for our lift home when, suddenly, two men with stocking masks over their heads burst in and brandished what looked like an air pistol at us. I wanted to giggle, frankly, but I wasn't taking any chances. The manager, Pete, came out of his office and handed over the money without a word, since that was what they were obviously after.

Although the money was all they wanted, they nevertheless guided both me and Alice over to a couple of pillars which supported the roof and handcuffed us with our arms behind our backs. As for Pete, they sat him down on a chair and used rope on him. "That should keep you away from the phone, until we're well away," muttered one and, with that, they left.

For a while we were all too shocked to say anything but then I suggested to Pete, "You're only tied with rope. You'll have to get free and then find a key or hack-saw to free us." Unfortunately, though he struggled a lot, the knots had been well-tied. So nothing happened for a time until Alice, with a rather sheepish grin, announced, "I hope we get free soon because I'm dying to go to the loo."

My wrists are quite thin and, for a while, I actually thought that I might be able to slip one out of the cuffs... but I couldn't. Alice, meanwhile, got more and more frantic. She was wearing tight pink trousers under which I could see the outline of her knickers and I thought I detected a tiny stain at the top of her inside left leg, but it may only have been a shadow. Her white blouse was also tight and, beneath it, she wasn't wearing a bra.

It was a weird threesome we made. Pete, I couldn't help noticing, was mesmerized by Alice's dilemma and, in turn, I began to get more interested in his condition which was visibly enlarging all the time. I was sure, for instance, that they tiny stain between Alice's legs had now spread to the top of her right leg as well. Obviously Pete's attention embarrassed her as she cried out, "Oh, please, do something... I can't wait much longer."

"Don't worry love," I told her, "he's doing all he can. It's nothing to be ashamed of. If you can't wait, you'll have to do it." The truth was that I was beginning to feel pretty much the same. It makes it so much worse when you want a pee and know you can't go. Alice tried another brave little smile, but now she was forcing her legs together and fidgeting constantly. Her rapid breathing, I'm sure, may also have had something to do with the fact that Pete's cock was making a tent in the middle of his creased trousers. I would loved to have gone over there, pulled it out and given it a long, slow sucking.

"Oh no," Alice suddenly cried, "It's too late! I'm wetting myself!" Pete and I were absolutely glued to her crotch-line. For what seemed like ages, nothing happened and then, suddenly, streams of urine streaked down both legs of her trousers and the pinkness of them got gradually darker and darker. We all sat in silence as Alice's head lowered in shame, while her pee formed a pool on the floor between her feet. I'm afraid the sight of it hastened my own bursting condition too. My own crotch was damp already (partly I know, from staring at Pete's cock) and, all of a sudden, I couldn't control it either. "Oh, well," I said light-heartily, "here it comes." There was a strong hissing sound as I opened my legs and released the muscles from spasm. For almost a whole minute, the liquid just poured out of me and onto the dance-floor.