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I had a nice experience on my way back from a trip Upstate this past Sunday. My girlfriend and I had rented a car and taken about a 5 hour drive up from the city to stay for the weekend. We had a lovely time with hiking and good beer and food, stayed for lunch Sunday, and then got in our rented car to head home.
Around the halfway point, we stopped because my girlfriend, we'll call her Natalie, really had to pee. She knows about my fetish and indulges on occasion, but she seemed like she didn't feel like "going all the way" this time, plus it was a rental, so heaven forbid we dirty the seats. Still, she had been making comments about just how badly she had to go for the last hour. She does this sometimes because she knows it turns me on, but watching her jiggle up and down, it didn't look like she was exaggerating. I was sort of hoping she wouldn't quite make it, but once we pulled into the gas station parking lot, and I watched her hop from one foot to the other for a moment pleading with me to let her go, I finally assented.
Watching her run to the bathroom, and feeling my erection straining against my pants, and then feeling my bladder complain just a little, I decided we were going to play. I went in the ministore while she was in the toilet, and got two large bottles of water. Then I sat in the driver's seat and waited for her to come out.
Natalie has a rapacious sex drive, so I guess I should not have been surprised that she noticed my hard on before she saw the water bottles. She commented on the one, and then saw the other and knew what was happening. She said, "it's a rental," but I assured her we would find a rest stop before it got to the point of making a mess.
I told her we each had to finish one of the bottles by the end of the next hour, to which she agreed. That would leave a good hour of desperation, and then we could stop right before we hit the city.
I'll skip the next part. Suffice it to say we both drank the amount agreed upon in slightly less than the appointed time limit. Natalie had to pee already less than 15 minutes after we had stopped before, and by the time the water was gone she was bouncing her knees. I, on the other hand, hadn't peed before, and I was desperate as hell. I also had been hard pretty much constantly for the last hour, and I had leaked so much pre-come that it had stained the front of my pants with a wet patch the size of a silver dollar.
Natalie eyed the spot and said, "wait, did you pee?" I explained the situation to her, and how badly I needed to go, and she said, "well, you're not allowed to go until you come."
I was not expecting this, but I welcomed it when she started rubbing my cock through my pants. The inside of my underwear was slippery enough that my penis slid easily as she massaged. At the same time, I had to pee so badly that I wondered if I would be able to come, not to mention the distraction of actually having to drive.
Still, a command was a command, and I rocked my pelvis as she tried to nonchalantly stimulate me without neighboring cars noticing.
She kept going and I kept driving, the wet patch on the front of my pants growing as I got closer and closer to orgasm. Still, every time I thought I was almost there, something on the road would distract me, a turn or a merge or an exit. At one point, I felt a spurt of a different kind. I was close to losing it, but I wasn't going to say anything. Natalie at this point was desperate too, and we were getting close to the city. She was bouncing frantically while she rubbed me, and at one point she said, "Ok, you have two minutes to come, because we need to stop at this next rest stop."
I didn't quite make it, but I came shortly after, my come squirting into my pants, seemingly forever, as wave after wave of orgasm shook me. "Shit," she said, "that was the last stop before the Bronx."
I hand't quite been paying attention to where we were, but now that I knew, I instantly regretted taking so long. After orgasm, having to wait until we had returned the car in order to use a bathroom seemed pretty unappealing. It would be about 40 minutes or so, and I had already spurted once without meaning to, which meant there was more to come.
Natalie, too, was worried about making it. She wasn't in quite as bad shape as I was, but I could tell she was worried when we started to make plans for finding a bathroom as quickly as possible once we delivered the car. I confessed I was about to lose it completely, and she offered to let me hop out of the car at the garage and run to the Starbucks while she returned the car. "But you have to do it quickly and come back, because I'm going to need a bathroom right away too."
As we drove through the Bronx, I kept checking on either side of the highway. Surely there was a McDonald's or some obvious place to stop somewhere? But it was all Bronxian wasteland -- housing projects and closed big box stores. Getting off the highway at this point would involve a lot of wandering trying to find someplace to pee.
As we neared the bridge to Manhattan, I could feel the pressure building again, and I was getting waves of spasms in my bladder. It's been quite a while since I was this desperate. Honestly, usually even when I do a big hold I end up giving up and wetting myself long before I get to this point. But I know my body, and getting to these rhythmic spasms after already having had a little spurting means I'm coming up on some big, long, uncontrollable spurts. The GPS was saying I had 20 or so minutes until we reached our destination, but I knew traffic on the FDR was rarely that smooth. It was going to be at least 30 minutes, and I was very unsure I could make it that long.
I tried to calm my body as we pulled up to the toll booth at the bridge to Manhattan, and as I rolled down the window and handed the toll taker a 20, my bladder gave a huge push. If I hadn't been trying to act normal, I would have doubled over to hold it, but as it was I just gritted my teeth, and then felt piss rush out into my pants. I glanced down as casually as I could and saw a spreading wet spot on my pants. Natalie's eyes were fixed on my crotch, but the toll taker didn't seem to notice. I clenched myself shut after a good 3 second spurt, and then almost immediately felt another push and another, shorter spurt as I took my change.
At this point I just wasn't sure what to do. I was wearing khakis, and the spot would be obvious to anyone at the garage, on the street, and on the train on the way home. Maybe I could change in the bathroom if I pulled over before the garage. But then I'd have to circle around and find a place to park...
Natalie was worried about the car, though. I felt another spasm and felt my pants grow warm again, just a little spurt, but then there was another, and another. I was releasing pee a half teaspoon at time every five seconds or so, comepletely against my will. Fortunately the suitcase was in the back seat, and Natalie pulled out my extra pair of jeans to sit on, to hopefully absorb some of the liquid.
By the time we had crossed the bridge and gotten on the FDR, taking us down the East side of Manhattan, the spurts had increased to about every second. My cock was sitting in a warm, slippery bath that was slowly but constantly being refreshed. And then we hit traffic. Bringing all my will to bear, I managed to clamp myself shut and stop the spurts for a few moments, and we sat there, barely moving for a good ten minutes.
We crawled our way into the tunnel under the UN building, and then it happened. I felt another great cramp in my abdomen, and I bore down hard involuntarily. I felt my muscles that were clamped shut quiver and grow numb, and then I flooded myself. Natalie could hear it, and I looked at her watching my lap as the piss pooled between my legs and slowly got absorbed by my pants and the jeans I was siting in. Then her eyes moved to my face, and I was worried she might be angry. But instead, she grinned. "Well. I guess we're not returning the car tonight," she said matter-of-factly.
After maybe thirty seconds of emptying myself, I felt a lot better, though I still had to go quite badly, and could easily have kept pissing for another few minutes. Still, at this point I was clear-headed enough to pay better attention to Natalie, and I could tell she was getting close to losing it herself.
"Do you think you can make it until we get home?" I asked. She looked thoughtful, and then shook her head. "Well, you're going to have to try. We don't have another pair of jeans for you to pee into, since you're wearing the only pair you brought."
She grinned sheepishly, "Well, technically I won't have made it even if I don't pee any more. I leaked a tiny bit while you were letting loose there. I guess you just pushed me over the edge." I reached down and felt between her legs, and sure enough there was an ever-so-slight wet patch.
We got off the highway, and took the bridge to Brooklyn. We had maybe 20 minutes before we got home, and Natalie was about where I had been half an hour before. She narrated for me as she felt herself slowly lose control: "Oh god, there came another spurt, that was sooner than the last one! I can feel it starting to soak through my undies."
I told her to lift herself off the seat to avoid making a puddle, and she obliged, but almost immediately I heard a light patter of droplet falling onto the seat below her, and she dropped back down. "That was not working!" she gasped. The effort of holding herself up had made it impossible for her to keep control. She was able to stop once she was seated again, but there was a small wet patch on her butt and the seat below her now.
Always resourceful, Natalie figured out another way to get her butt off the seat. She unbuckled, put the seat as far back as it would go, and got on all fours. "Just don't get in an accident," she said, and we both laughed -- we had already both had accidents.
The side effect of her new position was that I had a great view of Natalie's ass as it got progressively more wet. I think at this point she wasn't really trying to hold back. The stain gradually covered her butt and slowly made its way down her legs as she moaned in pain and pleasure. It was just reaching her knees when I pulled onto our street. We had a lucky parking space just down the block, only a few buildings down from our apartment. I parked the car and ordered Natalie to stop peeing. I saw her shake a little, but she got herself under control, and we left the car as quickly as we could. The unpacking could wait.
As we climbed the stairs, Natalie ahead of me, I saw her pants grow wetter again at the crotch, and she stopped and bent her knees to squirm. I slapped her butt and ordered to her stop peeing, and keep climbing.
We got inside the apartment, and I pushed her to the bathroom and into the shower. Her lip quivered and she begged me to let her go, but I shook my head, pulled down her pants, and made her watch as I finished wetting myself in the shower. It felt so, so good. I can't remember having to go so badly in a very long time.
When I was done, I saw her shaking with need, but her eyes were on the bulge in the front of my pants. I stripped down, spread her legs and lifted her slightly, putting her back against the shower wall. Her thighs were slippery, but I managed to hold on, and entered her soaking wet pussy. As we fucked, I whispered in her ear, "Now you can go," and I felt her abs relax as her piss flooded over both of us and pooled at our feet.
Around the halfway point, we stopped because my girlfriend, we'll call her Natalie, really had to pee. She knows about my fetish and indulges on occasion, but she seemed like she didn't feel like "going all the way" this time, plus it was a rental, so heaven forbid we dirty the seats. Still, she had been making comments about just how badly she had to go for the last hour. She does this sometimes because she knows it turns me on, but watching her jiggle up and down, it didn't look like she was exaggerating. I was sort of hoping she wouldn't quite make it, but once we pulled into the gas station parking lot, and I watched her hop from one foot to the other for a moment pleading with me to let her go, I finally assented.
Watching her run to the bathroom, and feeling my erection straining against my pants, and then feeling my bladder complain just a little, I decided we were going to play. I went in the ministore while she was in the toilet, and got two large bottles of water. Then I sat in the driver's seat and waited for her to come out.
Natalie has a rapacious sex drive, so I guess I should not have been surprised that she noticed my hard on before she saw the water bottles. She commented on the one, and then saw the other and knew what was happening. She said, "it's a rental," but I assured her we would find a rest stop before it got to the point of making a mess.
I told her we each had to finish one of the bottles by the end of the next hour, to which she agreed. That would leave a good hour of desperation, and then we could stop right before we hit the city.
I'll skip the next part. Suffice it to say we both drank the amount agreed upon in slightly less than the appointed time limit. Natalie had to pee already less than 15 minutes after we had stopped before, and by the time the water was gone she was bouncing her knees. I, on the other hand, hadn't peed before, and I was desperate as hell. I also had been hard pretty much constantly for the last hour, and I had leaked so much pre-come that it had stained the front of my pants with a wet patch the size of a silver dollar.
Natalie eyed the spot and said, "wait, did you pee?" I explained the situation to her, and how badly I needed to go, and she said, "well, you're not allowed to go until you come."
I was not expecting this, but I welcomed it when she started rubbing my cock through my pants. The inside of my underwear was slippery enough that my penis slid easily as she massaged. At the same time, I had to pee so badly that I wondered if I would be able to come, not to mention the distraction of actually having to drive.
Still, a command was a command, and I rocked my pelvis as she tried to nonchalantly stimulate me without neighboring cars noticing.
She kept going and I kept driving, the wet patch on the front of my pants growing as I got closer and closer to orgasm. Still, every time I thought I was almost there, something on the road would distract me, a turn or a merge or an exit. At one point, I felt a spurt of a different kind. I was close to losing it, but I wasn't going to say anything. Natalie at this point was desperate too, and we were getting close to the city. She was bouncing frantically while she rubbed me, and at one point she said, "Ok, you have two minutes to come, because we need to stop at this next rest stop."
I didn't quite make it, but I came shortly after, my come squirting into my pants, seemingly forever, as wave after wave of orgasm shook me. "Shit," she said, "that was the last stop before the Bronx."
I hand't quite been paying attention to where we were, but now that I knew, I instantly regretted taking so long. After orgasm, having to wait until we had returned the car in order to use a bathroom seemed pretty unappealing. It would be about 40 minutes or so, and I had already spurted once without meaning to, which meant there was more to come.
Natalie, too, was worried about making it. She wasn't in quite as bad shape as I was, but I could tell she was worried when we started to make plans for finding a bathroom as quickly as possible once we delivered the car. I confessed I was about to lose it completely, and she offered to let me hop out of the car at the garage and run to the Starbucks while she returned the car. "But you have to do it quickly and come back, because I'm going to need a bathroom right away too."
As we drove through the Bronx, I kept checking on either side of the highway. Surely there was a McDonald's or some obvious place to stop somewhere? But it was all Bronxian wasteland -- housing projects and closed big box stores. Getting off the highway at this point would involve a lot of wandering trying to find someplace to pee.
As we neared the bridge to Manhattan, I could feel the pressure building again, and I was getting waves of spasms in my bladder. It's been quite a while since I was this desperate. Honestly, usually even when I do a big hold I end up giving up and wetting myself long before I get to this point. But I know my body, and getting to these rhythmic spasms after already having had a little spurting means I'm coming up on some big, long, uncontrollable spurts. The GPS was saying I had 20 or so minutes until we reached our destination, but I knew traffic on the FDR was rarely that smooth. It was going to be at least 30 minutes, and I was very unsure I could make it that long.
I tried to calm my body as we pulled up to the toll booth at the bridge to Manhattan, and as I rolled down the window and handed the toll taker a 20, my bladder gave a huge push. If I hadn't been trying to act normal, I would have doubled over to hold it, but as it was I just gritted my teeth, and then felt piss rush out into my pants. I glanced down as casually as I could and saw a spreading wet spot on my pants. Natalie's eyes were fixed on my crotch, but the toll taker didn't seem to notice. I clenched myself shut after a good 3 second spurt, and then almost immediately felt another push and another, shorter spurt as I took my change.
At this point I just wasn't sure what to do. I was wearing khakis, and the spot would be obvious to anyone at the garage, on the street, and on the train on the way home. Maybe I could change in the bathroom if I pulled over before the garage. But then I'd have to circle around and find a place to park...
Natalie was worried about the car, though. I felt another spasm and felt my pants grow warm again, just a little spurt, but then there was another, and another. I was releasing pee a half teaspoon at time every five seconds or so, comepletely against my will. Fortunately the suitcase was in the back seat, and Natalie pulled out my extra pair of jeans to sit on, to hopefully absorb some of the liquid.
By the time we had crossed the bridge and gotten on the FDR, taking us down the East side of Manhattan, the spurts had increased to about every second. My cock was sitting in a warm, slippery bath that was slowly but constantly being refreshed. And then we hit traffic. Bringing all my will to bear, I managed to clamp myself shut and stop the spurts for a few moments, and we sat there, barely moving for a good ten minutes.
We crawled our way into the tunnel under the UN building, and then it happened. I felt another great cramp in my abdomen, and I bore down hard involuntarily. I felt my muscles that were clamped shut quiver and grow numb, and then I flooded myself. Natalie could hear it, and I looked at her watching my lap as the piss pooled between my legs and slowly got absorbed by my pants and the jeans I was siting in. Then her eyes moved to my face, and I was worried she might be angry. But instead, she grinned. "Well. I guess we're not returning the car tonight," she said matter-of-factly.
After maybe thirty seconds of emptying myself, I felt a lot better, though I still had to go quite badly, and could easily have kept pissing for another few minutes. Still, at this point I was clear-headed enough to pay better attention to Natalie, and I could tell she was getting close to losing it herself.
"Do you think you can make it until we get home?" I asked. She looked thoughtful, and then shook her head. "Well, you're going to have to try. We don't have another pair of jeans for you to pee into, since you're wearing the only pair you brought."
She grinned sheepishly, "Well, technically I won't have made it even if I don't pee any more. I leaked a tiny bit while you were letting loose there. I guess you just pushed me over the edge." I reached down and felt between her legs, and sure enough there was an ever-so-slight wet patch.
We got off the highway, and took the bridge to Brooklyn. We had maybe 20 minutes before we got home, and Natalie was about where I had been half an hour before. She narrated for me as she felt herself slowly lose control: "Oh god, there came another spurt, that was sooner than the last one! I can feel it starting to soak through my undies."
I told her to lift herself off the seat to avoid making a puddle, and she obliged, but almost immediately I heard a light patter of droplet falling onto the seat below her, and she dropped back down. "That was not working!" she gasped. The effort of holding herself up had made it impossible for her to keep control. She was able to stop once she was seated again, but there was a small wet patch on her butt and the seat below her now.
Always resourceful, Natalie figured out another way to get her butt off the seat. She unbuckled, put the seat as far back as it would go, and got on all fours. "Just don't get in an accident," she said, and we both laughed -- we had already both had accidents.
The side effect of her new position was that I had a great view of Natalie's ass as it got progressively more wet. I think at this point she wasn't really trying to hold back. The stain gradually covered her butt and slowly made its way down her legs as she moaned in pain and pleasure. It was just reaching her knees when I pulled onto our street. We had a lucky parking space just down the block, only a few buildings down from our apartment. I parked the car and ordered Natalie to stop peeing. I saw her shake a little, but she got herself under control, and we left the car as quickly as we could. The unpacking could wait.
As we climbed the stairs, Natalie ahead of me, I saw her pants grow wetter again at the crotch, and she stopped and bent her knees to squirm. I slapped her butt and ordered to her stop peeing, and keep climbing.
We got inside the apartment, and I pushed her to the bathroom and into the shower. Her lip quivered and she begged me to let her go, but I shook my head, pulled down her pants, and made her watch as I finished wetting myself in the shower. It felt so, so good. I can't remember having to go so badly in a very long time.
When I was done, I saw her shaking with need, but her eyes were on the bulge in the front of my pants. I stripped down, spread her legs and lifted her slightly, putting her back against the shower wall. Her thighs were slippery, but I managed to hold on, and entered her soaking wet pussy. As we fucked, I whispered in her ear, "Now you can go," and I felt her abs relax as her piss flooded over both of us and pooled at our feet.
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