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I had a pretty amazing experience recently and thought I'd share it with you all. To start with, I suppose I should offer obligatory information about myself, so no one accidentally gets off to something they don't want to: I'm a 30 year old man, lean and decently cut if I do say so myself. My girlfriend is not into pee, but she has her own fetishes and is have to oblige mine. This is an absolutely true story, and far from spicing it up with extra details, my only hope is to make it as exiting a story as it was in real life. I apologize about the length. TL;DR: I went on a car trip. I pissed myself.
***
I live in Brooklyn, NY, so I don't have a car, but I recently rented one for a work trip, a destination about 8 hours away. I spent a few days out there, and then started my drive back. It was early afternoon and I had a cup of coffee and a liter of water. After about an hour I found I had to pee pretty badly, so I called my girlfriend.
"So, remember how you said I wasn't allowed to wet myself on the way down?" I asked, "How would you feel if I played on the way back?"
She granted me permission to wet myself as long as I didn't get anything on the seat of the rental.
I ran into traffic right away, and it was looking like the drive might end up being longer than usual, so I stopped and relieved myself at a rest stop -- I didn't want to be sitting in wet pants for six hours. While I was there, I picked up two more liters of water and a large coffee at Starbucks (I refuse to call it a Venti or whatever they say instead of "large"). When I got back into the car, I put a plastic bag on the seat. I resolved that whatever happened, my pants wouldn't come off again until I got home.
***
It took me a while, but I had finished all the liquid I bought, and with traffic I was still a good four hours from home. But I could tell I had less than half an hour before pee started to force its way out whether I wanted it to or not. I was OK with that, but I had made a promise that I wouldn't get anything on the car seat, and I didn't think the little plastic bag would protect it from everything. I had a towel in my suitcase that I could put over the plastic bag for some additional absorption, but even that wouldn't be enough -- the pulsing spasms in my bladder were telling me that over the course of the next four hours I was going to have to fully empty my bladder at least once. Probably more.
My heart started to race when I realized that. Traffic was crawling, and I didn't even know if I'd make it to the next exit before I wet myself completely. Signs overhead proclaimed an approaching toll, and I gritted my teeth as I looked ahead into the growing darkness. I could see traffic moving out beyond the line of toll booths. Not all clear, exactly, but better than what I'd been in for the last hour.
By the time I was next in line I could tell that the end was near. My bladder was clenching and unclenching in rhythm, and every time it did I could feel the urine inside me surge forward, only to stop at the last instant. As I pulled under the awning and rolled down the window, I tried to stop jiggling up and down -- I didn't want the agent to think I was on drugs or something. It turns out that was a mistake.
I turned and smiled at the agent, then reached for my wallet, and as I did I could feel my bladder strangely relax. I panicked and tried to clench it shut, but there was nothing I could do -- pee started to pour out into my jeans. I fumbled in my wallet and tried to gain control of myself, but it was several seconds before could stop. I handed a few bills to the agent and smiled again, sheepishly this time. I'm pretty sure she didn't know what had happened.
Pulling out into the finally moving traffic, I felt a bit of relief, but I knew it would be short-lived, and I needed to figure out what I was going to do. I felt the seat around me, and despite what had felt like at least a cup of piss dumped into my lap, the plastic bag seemed to have kept it in. It was almost completely dark by now, and I thought of a plan. I was thinking of one time my girlfriend and I had been on a road trip together. We were horny and fondling each other as we drove, and finally we couldn't stand it anymore. We pulled off the highway and into an empty parking lot behind a big box store, pushed the seats back, and had a quick fuck. I needed to find an exit with a strip mall close to the highway that would have big empty loading docks in back.
This was trickier than it sounds -- most of the exits seemed to be connections to suburban highways lined with houses. I could feel the pressure building again, and my bladder was back to its rhythmic spasms, only this time every time my muscles unclenched a spurt of pee came out.
I finally found a good candidate for my exit, and pulled off into a vast expanse of strip mall. It was perfect. I pulled around the back, found total darkness, and put the car into park. A longer spurt came out, and I felt around to see if the seat was wet, but it still seemed fine. I was about to get out and let loose, but then I suddenly was worried. The darkness made me feel strangely exposed. Any car passing back here, a cop or night watchman, say, would see me instantly, crouching there happily pissing through my clothes. Even if they didn't see me peeing, how would I explain my presence there? I was definitely not interested in getting arrested. Bouncing up and down, getting wetter by the second, I conceded that my plan wasn't perfect, and pulled back around to the front of the huge store. The parking lot out front was massive, and there were still a number of cars in it, but they were all clustered around the store. The lot was well lit, but not so much in the far corners where there were no cars. There was a row of hedges between the lot and the road. Now I had a new plan.
I pulled around to the far end of the parking lot and shut down the car. My bladder was emptying one drop at a time, but I still sat there for a while before I did anything else. I looked around and made sure there was no one else nearby. No one coming toward me. No one.
I took a deep breath, opened the door, turned off the cabin lights, and stepped out into the cold. My heart was racing. The car was between me and the store, and the headlights from the road passed over my head. Two people were standing by their cars talking maybe a hundred yards away. I knelt down, my legs shaking, and released.
God it felt good. The stream poured out, caressing my penis and balls, pooling at the bottom, filling my pants with warmth. I shuddered and moaned, and it was at least a full minute before I came back to my senses. I was crouching in a well lit parking lot, people just down range, with a river of piss a mile long spreading from under my car. What was I thinking? I wanted to jump into the car and speed away, but I forced myself to wait, get the the towel from my suitcase, and fold it carefully over the plastic bag on the seat.
By the time I got back on the highway, my cock was rock hard, and I could feel it slipping around inside my wet briefs. Slipping back and forth… I had cruise control on, and I rocked my pelvis forward and back, faster and faster, until I came in my pants, and added semen to what was already in there.
I cooled down after that. I was sitting in wet pants, and still had at least two hours to go before I was home.
***
Three. I got lost in New Jersey, suddenly found myself going South on the highway when I was supposed to be going North. I got off the highway, checked directions on my phone, and concluded that it was actually best to get back on the same direction, go a little further south, and then loop around to the highway I was supposed to be on. The only problem was I couldn't get back on the highway going the same direction at that exit. Yeah. Jersey. So I spent a long time wandering around suburban streets, before I finally found my way back to the highway. Half an hour into this excursion my bladder was full again. I would have stopped for directions except my pants were all wet. The pee was spurting out again, and I felt like I had completely lost control. I needed to get back on the highway, then find a rest area, use an actual toilet, and change into different pants.
The first happened, eventually, but I missed the first rest area because I was blocked in by two trucks, and by the time I got to the next one, half an hour later, I was peeing in an almost constant low-level stream. In spite of that, I only felt more desperate as time went on. My bladder muscles were so tired, I knew what was going to happen. I know my body pretty well at this point, and the first round of holding leads to spasms followed by me letting go when I just can't take it anymore. The second round leads to spasms followed by an uncontrollable soaking, and I knew the car seat wasn't going to be able to take that.
I got to the rest area and was greeted by a grim sight: the gas station was open, but the restaurant was closed. I pulled up to two guys who worked at the station and were gabbing on the curb. I rolled down the window. By now I was a bit more nonchalant about pissing myself while talking to someone through the window. Was the bathroom open at least? One of the guys pointed to a cluster of port-a-potties just inside the glow of the gas station lights. Not a place to change.
"Oh, I guess I can wait," I said, and drove back onto the highway. Yeah right.
My bladder seemed to have reached a state of equilibrium. I had to pee as badly as I could ever remember in my life, but the uncontrollable wetting had stopped. That meant it was only a matter of time before my bladder took matters into its own hands and forced it all out at once. The only thing I could do was go for a controlled burn, trying to let out just enough that I didn't overflow the towel but still kept away from DefCon 1.
There were no more rest areas before my exit into Staten Island. I decided I'd go for it. I would try to make it home instead of stopping somewhere. I probably had forty minutes to go.
By the time I was on the BQE in Brooklyn, my strategy of controlled leaking was starting to be in trouble. The towel underneath me was saturated, and my pants were starting to get wet further away from my crotch, closer to my knees. In a flash of inspiration, I pulled off my sweater and stuffed it between my legs, just as I let out a big long gush. It was enough to calm things down just a little, but this was the end game. If I made it home without another full on wetting, it would be a miracle.
By the time I pulled up to my block and found that miracle in the form of a parking spot just half a block from my door, I was bouncing, rocking, and squirming every way I could to delay the inevitable. As I was parallel parking, the floodgates opened. My already soaked pants were infused with a rush of liquid. I stopped the car, pissing hysterically, reached frantically into the back seat for my suitcase, and got out of the car.
This seemed to offer new depths of pee for my bladder to expel. I managed to get the car door locked as the puddle formed under my feet, and I tried to walk casually down the street. I passed a couple who were too into each other to notice the guy wetting himself furiously, and keyed into the building door. I was halfway up the stairs before I finally gained control. I opened my apartment door and was greeted by my girlfriend, who looked down at my pants and laughed. Then she kissed me luxuriously while I relaxed my bladder.
She smiled and held her hand to my crotch for a moment as the piss flowed around her hand before the whispered, "Don't make a puddle on the floor, silly, go stand in the shower."
I obliged, and stood there pissing for several minutes while she watched. When I was finally done, she stepped into the shower with me, pulled off my pants, and fondled my cock while I rinsed my pants and soaped myself up. We dried off and fell into bed, and fucked like crazy.
***
I live in Brooklyn, NY, so I don't have a car, but I recently rented one for a work trip, a destination about 8 hours away. I spent a few days out there, and then started my drive back. It was early afternoon and I had a cup of coffee and a liter of water. After about an hour I found I had to pee pretty badly, so I called my girlfriend.
"So, remember how you said I wasn't allowed to wet myself on the way down?" I asked, "How would you feel if I played on the way back?"
She granted me permission to wet myself as long as I didn't get anything on the seat of the rental.
I ran into traffic right away, and it was looking like the drive might end up being longer than usual, so I stopped and relieved myself at a rest stop -- I didn't want to be sitting in wet pants for six hours. While I was there, I picked up two more liters of water and a large coffee at Starbucks (I refuse to call it a Venti or whatever they say instead of "large"). When I got back into the car, I put a plastic bag on the seat. I resolved that whatever happened, my pants wouldn't come off again until I got home.
***
It took me a while, but I had finished all the liquid I bought, and with traffic I was still a good four hours from home. But I could tell I had less than half an hour before pee started to force its way out whether I wanted it to or not. I was OK with that, but I had made a promise that I wouldn't get anything on the car seat, and I didn't think the little plastic bag would protect it from everything. I had a towel in my suitcase that I could put over the plastic bag for some additional absorption, but even that wouldn't be enough -- the pulsing spasms in my bladder were telling me that over the course of the next four hours I was going to have to fully empty my bladder at least once. Probably more.
My heart started to race when I realized that. Traffic was crawling, and I didn't even know if I'd make it to the next exit before I wet myself completely. Signs overhead proclaimed an approaching toll, and I gritted my teeth as I looked ahead into the growing darkness. I could see traffic moving out beyond the line of toll booths. Not all clear, exactly, but better than what I'd been in for the last hour.
By the time I was next in line I could tell that the end was near. My bladder was clenching and unclenching in rhythm, and every time it did I could feel the urine inside me surge forward, only to stop at the last instant. As I pulled under the awning and rolled down the window, I tried to stop jiggling up and down -- I didn't want the agent to think I was on drugs or something. It turns out that was a mistake.
I turned and smiled at the agent, then reached for my wallet, and as I did I could feel my bladder strangely relax. I panicked and tried to clench it shut, but there was nothing I could do -- pee started to pour out into my jeans. I fumbled in my wallet and tried to gain control of myself, but it was several seconds before could stop. I handed a few bills to the agent and smiled again, sheepishly this time. I'm pretty sure she didn't know what had happened.
Pulling out into the finally moving traffic, I felt a bit of relief, but I knew it would be short-lived, and I needed to figure out what I was going to do. I felt the seat around me, and despite what had felt like at least a cup of piss dumped into my lap, the plastic bag seemed to have kept it in. It was almost completely dark by now, and I thought of a plan. I was thinking of one time my girlfriend and I had been on a road trip together. We were horny and fondling each other as we drove, and finally we couldn't stand it anymore. We pulled off the highway and into an empty parking lot behind a big box store, pushed the seats back, and had a quick fuck. I needed to find an exit with a strip mall close to the highway that would have big empty loading docks in back.
This was trickier than it sounds -- most of the exits seemed to be connections to suburban highways lined with houses. I could feel the pressure building again, and my bladder was back to its rhythmic spasms, only this time every time my muscles unclenched a spurt of pee came out.
I finally found a good candidate for my exit, and pulled off into a vast expanse of strip mall. It was perfect. I pulled around the back, found total darkness, and put the car into park. A longer spurt came out, and I felt around to see if the seat was wet, but it still seemed fine. I was about to get out and let loose, but then I suddenly was worried. The darkness made me feel strangely exposed. Any car passing back here, a cop or night watchman, say, would see me instantly, crouching there happily pissing through my clothes. Even if they didn't see me peeing, how would I explain my presence there? I was definitely not interested in getting arrested. Bouncing up and down, getting wetter by the second, I conceded that my plan wasn't perfect, and pulled back around to the front of the huge store. The parking lot out front was massive, and there were still a number of cars in it, but they were all clustered around the store. The lot was well lit, but not so much in the far corners where there were no cars. There was a row of hedges between the lot and the road. Now I had a new plan.
I pulled around to the far end of the parking lot and shut down the car. My bladder was emptying one drop at a time, but I still sat there for a while before I did anything else. I looked around and made sure there was no one else nearby. No one coming toward me. No one.
I took a deep breath, opened the door, turned off the cabin lights, and stepped out into the cold. My heart was racing. The car was between me and the store, and the headlights from the road passed over my head. Two people were standing by their cars talking maybe a hundred yards away. I knelt down, my legs shaking, and released.
God it felt good. The stream poured out, caressing my penis and balls, pooling at the bottom, filling my pants with warmth. I shuddered and moaned, and it was at least a full minute before I came back to my senses. I was crouching in a well lit parking lot, people just down range, with a river of piss a mile long spreading from under my car. What was I thinking? I wanted to jump into the car and speed away, but I forced myself to wait, get the the towel from my suitcase, and fold it carefully over the plastic bag on the seat.
By the time I got back on the highway, my cock was rock hard, and I could feel it slipping around inside my wet briefs. Slipping back and forth… I had cruise control on, and I rocked my pelvis forward and back, faster and faster, until I came in my pants, and added semen to what was already in there.
I cooled down after that. I was sitting in wet pants, and still had at least two hours to go before I was home.
***
Three. I got lost in New Jersey, suddenly found myself going South on the highway when I was supposed to be going North. I got off the highway, checked directions on my phone, and concluded that it was actually best to get back on the same direction, go a little further south, and then loop around to the highway I was supposed to be on. The only problem was I couldn't get back on the highway going the same direction at that exit. Yeah. Jersey. So I spent a long time wandering around suburban streets, before I finally found my way back to the highway. Half an hour into this excursion my bladder was full again. I would have stopped for directions except my pants were all wet. The pee was spurting out again, and I felt like I had completely lost control. I needed to get back on the highway, then find a rest area, use an actual toilet, and change into different pants.
The first happened, eventually, but I missed the first rest area because I was blocked in by two trucks, and by the time I got to the next one, half an hour later, I was peeing in an almost constant low-level stream. In spite of that, I only felt more desperate as time went on. My bladder muscles were so tired, I knew what was going to happen. I know my body pretty well at this point, and the first round of holding leads to spasms followed by me letting go when I just can't take it anymore. The second round leads to spasms followed by an uncontrollable soaking, and I knew the car seat wasn't going to be able to take that.
I got to the rest area and was greeted by a grim sight: the gas station was open, but the restaurant was closed. I pulled up to two guys who worked at the station and were gabbing on the curb. I rolled down the window. By now I was a bit more nonchalant about pissing myself while talking to someone through the window. Was the bathroom open at least? One of the guys pointed to a cluster of port-a-potties just inside the glow of the gas station lights. Not a place to change.
"Oh, I guess I can wait," I said, and drove back onto the highway. Yeah right.
My bladder seemed to have reached a state of equilibrium. I had to pee as badly as I could ever remember in my life, but the uncontrollable wetting had stopped. That meant it was only a matter of time before my bladder took matters into its own hands and forced it all out at once. The only thing I could do was go for a controlled burn, trying to let out just enough that I didn't overflow the towel but still kept away from DefCon 1.
There were no more rest areas before my exit into Staten Island. I decided I'd go for it. I would try to make it home instead of stopping somewhere. I probably had forty minutes to go.
By the time I was on the BQE in Brooklyn, my strategy of controlled leaking was starting to be in trouble. The towel underneath me was saturated, and my pants were starting to get wet further away from my crotch, closer to my knees. In a flash of inspiration, I pulled off my sweater and stuffed it between my legs, just as I let out a big long gush. It was enough to calm things down just a little, but this was the end game. If I made it home without another full on wetting, it would be a miracle.
By the time I pulled up to my block and found that miracle in the form of a parking spot just half a block from my door, I was bouncing, rocking, and squirming every way I could to delay the inevitable. As I was parallel parking, the floodgates opened. My already soaked pants were infused with a rush of liquid. I stopped the car, pissing hysterically, reached frantically into the back seat for my suitcase, and got out of the car.
This seemed to offer new depths of pee for my bladder to expel. I managed to get the car door locked as the puddle formed under my feet, and I tried to walk casually down the street. I passed a couple who were too into each other to notice the guy wetting himself furiously, and keyed into the building door. I was halfway up the stairs before I finally gained control. I opened my apartment door and was greeted by my girlfriend, who looked down at my pants and laughed. Then she kissed me luxuriously while I relaxed my bladder.
She smiled and held her hand to my crotch for a moment as the piss flowed around her hand before the whispered, "Don't make a puddle on the floor, silly, go stand in the shower."
I obliged, and stood there pissing for several minutes while she watched. When I was finally done, she stepped into the shower with me, pulled off my pants, and fondled my cock while I rinsed my pants and soaped myself up. We dried off and fell into bed, and fucked like crazy.
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