I told myself I could hold it. The meeting was important. I looked professional, polished... tight pencil skirt, sheer tights, not a hair out of place. But as the minutes dragged on and my bladder swelled, I could feel everything slipping. The pressure. My control. My dignity. I couldn't move. Couldn't excuse myself. Not without everyone watching. So I stayed seated and clenched and smiled like nothing was wrong… while my panties grew wetter by the second. Every pulse of desperation made it harder to focus... and harder to ignore the arousal growing between my legs. When I finally lost it, I didn't just soak my chair. I came harder than I ever have in my life.