It takes a lot of painful pushing with your nails, but you eventually get it out

As soon as the fat guy leaves your flingers fly to your pussy to assess the situation. No hint of the q-tip protrudes from your aching urethra, and a moan of dismay escapes you. Now how will you relieve your ever-growing bladder?

As they probe around your urethra your fingers seek the solid end of the q-tip, but in spite of them squeezing the area you find no hint of it. A flurry of panic sends your fingers diving into your pussy, ignoring the cheap rough toilet paper that stretches you wide.

Your nails jam inside of yourself, leaving scratches like a cat as you press on your inside walls, desperately trying to feel a hint of the q-tip. A second finger joins the first, then a third, drawing winces from not just the scratching but the extra stretch it inflicts upon you.

Through the dry walls of your canal you vaguely feel something solid that you think is the q-tip, and press on it, trying to move it toward the entrance of your urethra, Unfortunately, even though you press hard enough to leave gouges and scrape away layers from your sensitive lining you can't seem to make the q-tip move.

Desperation sends your fingers deeper, to the knuckles, in quest of the q-tip's end. If you can't tease it out from the bottom surely you can push it out from the top.

With a heartfelt prayer and a good dose of panic you cram your fingers deeper, somehow managing to dig in four fingers. Pushing them in makes the the tough toilet paper bulge against the other side of your pussy, causing pain of its own. But it's the needs of your trapped bladder that drive you to frantically press your claw-like nails deep into your own flesh, pressing down to try and move the q-tip.

Working frantically you close your eyes to minimize distractions, wincing constantly at the constant rough scraping of nails against tinder-dry insides, groaning with effort. Just as you're certain your nails with dig through the walls of your pussy like a dog seeking a bone you feel something. Movement? Did the Q-Tip just move?

"Please... Please please. Oh God, yes!" you groan, digging in hard and quicker, gouging with your fingers to encourage the movement. Your other hand places itself above the opening of your urethra, **** to feel the end of the q-tip. At long you feel the fuzzy end starting to protrude, and yank out your hand, nails dragging along your inside to pull at the wispy white cotton.

"Dammit, so close...." you moan when the cotton breaks off, and you jam your fingers roughly back inside, scratching and digging to find that same spot. It takes a few painful moments but you find where the small solid rod ends and dig your fingernails in, dragging them down like a cat working its scratching post, leaving furrows along the insides of your poor dry pussy.

"Yes. Yes!" you exclaim, feeling more cotton come out. "Almost there, almost.... Yes!"

Upon your final exclamation your fingers seize the protruding q-tip, gathering just enough to yank it from your plugged hole and drop it into the toilet below. You rock forward, feet slaping onto the ground just as your bladder starts pushing out what feels like gallons of piss. You ignore the fact that it's spattering your fingers as you rest, wallowing in the bliss than is a relieved bladder.

"Holy fuck that was hot watching you play with yourself!" a voice says, and your eyes snap open to find themselves level with the head of a very thick brown dick head.