The Traffic Jam

I was driving home from the office. I was alone in the car, and suddenly the traffic slowed and came to an abrupt halt. For the next half hour we started, crawled, and stopped, covering about half a mile. Up ahead there was a bus stop and about twenty folk waiting. I glanced in the mirrors and could see no bus behind me. I felt sorry for them because I guessed they’d got a fair wait ahead of them. As I looked at them I noticed one, a dark haired lady in her twenties jogging up and down. Suddenly her hand went between her legs and she bent forwards at the waist, bending her knees. Slowly she straightened up and seemed to regain control, but then she went into a pee dance, hopping rapidly from one foot to the other, bouncing up and down, leaning forwards and straightening up again. It seemed to work for she slowed, stopped and regained her composure. Just then the traffic moved again and I stopped right next to her. I looked at her and realised I knew her. It was Donna who lived just round the corner from me. I rolled down the passenger window and called out to her.
“Hey Donna, can I offer you a lift?” I asked.
“Thanks,” she said, opening the door and with a look of relief on her face she sat in the seat & shut the car door. The traffic started moving again and kept moving, albeit slowly, but we’d not gone more than half a mile before she gasped, wriggled and her hands both shot between her legs again.
“Are you OK?” I asked, not wishing to let on that I’d noticed her dancing earlier.
“ OOOoooh,” she moaned. “Look I’m terribly sorry but I’m desperate. I’m nearly pissing my pants. OOOhhhh. Ooooh. Erm, look, I’m sorry but I’m afraid I am in ss sssevere danger of messing up your car here. I’m so sorry.”
“Erm, well, don’t worry, I’m sure I’ll be able to clean it up,” I replied. Just then I had an inspiration. “Hey, look, this may be a bit embarrassing for you but if you look in the glove box there’s my empty lunch box in there. Perhaps you could manage to slide to the edge of the seat and use that.”
Donna opened the glove box, and took it out. Her hands shot between her legs to try to ward off another bad spasm. Gradually she slid to the edge of the seat and removed the lid of the sandwich box. Her hand reached up her skirt and ripped down her knickers and the distinct aroma told me she’d already leaked some. She spread her legs and positioned the sandwich box just as she started to pee. It hissed, squirted, and splashed, and after a short while it stopped. She breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m so embarrassed” she said, “but thanks. I’d surely have pissed my pants there at the bus stop if you hadn’t offered me a lift.” She looked at me, smiled and added, “but judging by your trouser tent you’ve enjoyed it.”
I blushed, and said, “Now it’s my turn to be embarrassed.”
“No need” said Donna, her hand resting on the tent pole. She had a good feel round, smiled at me and said, “I think you’d better come inside when we get there, so I can express my gratitude.”
I smiled back and drove on. About 10 minutes later we pulled up in her drive. We both got out of the car and she led me inside. I went through to the lounge and sat on the sofa while she poured us both a drink.
“So how come you got so desperate then?” I asked.
“Well, I know I should have gone before I left the office but I er, well, you know, I erm didn’t. I guessed I’d have got home OK if the traffic hadn’t snarled up making the damned bus late. Thank you for being so kind and picking me up,” she said.
“That’s OK,” I responded. “Good job it doesn’t happen to you often.”
“Well actually,” Donna began, and then stopped, having realised what she’d started to say and just looked embarrassed.
I could hardly believe my ears and my luck. “Yes, do go on,” I said, now conscious of the bulge in my trousers.
Donna looked down at the bulge, smiled and said, “Aha so I see that desperate ladies do excite you. Well, you are in luck tonight because in your car I only just let enough out to take the pressure off. I still need a wee. And actually that has happened to me quite a few times. You see, I love the feeling of having a very full bladder and I always try to put off going until the last minute. Sometimes I misjudge it and have to find somewhere to let some out, and sometimes I don’t manage to. I’ve let some out on the bus seat two or three times. Not enough to pool on the floor but enough to soak in the seat and relieve my pressure. The other thing is, of course, that it makes me feel quite randy and I usually end up getting home and giving myself a good seeing to. You must think me quite weird.”
“Erm, no,” I responded, my penis now throbbing and wanting some release. “Actually this is a big turn on for me. I’ve always been interested in water sports but only ever indulged on the Internet. You’re the first person I’ve met who does it. Or at least admits that she does it.”
“Well, that’s something then. We may be in for a good evening then. Tell me, do you ever hold it?”
“Erm yes, sometimes. Feels good too.”
“Doesn’t it. Look how’s your bladder now?”
“Pretty full,” I admitted.
“Good, me too. Look, why don’t we just wait and see who can hang on the longest? When one of us has gone beyond the point of self–control the other can let go as well. Then we’ll see about dealing with the other desperate urges afterwards.”
“Sounds like fun to me” I said, and with that she poured us both another drink. We sat chatting for about half an hour and then Donna began fidgeting. “Starting to feel like it?” I asked.
“Yes. I’ll probably last about 10 minutes or so. How about you?” she asked, noticing me keep squeezing my cock through my jeans.
“Probably about the same.” I said. “Look, given a choice, which would you prefer; for me to wait and let you do it first or do you want to see me do it first? You see, I’ve never done it before in front of anybody.”
“Don’t worry, “said Donna, “Just try and hang on till it’s impossible for you to hold it in any longer, unless I’ve already passed that stage. If I do it first you can just let go.”
“OK. This does sound like fun.”
So there we sat chatting, wriggling and holding on, and suddenly Donna let out a gasp, jumped up and did a pee–pee dance, ramming her fist up into her crotch, just like she’d done at the bus stop. “OOOh, can’t hang on much longer,” she said. She danced and pushed her fist up harder, then sighed and sat down again.
This was all too much for me and I felt as though I wasn’t going to be able to hold it either. I shoved my hands in my jeans and squeezed my cock for all it was worth.
I just about managed to regain control when Donna started her pee–pee dance once more. This time she doubled over, and straightened up, then doubled over again. She’d still got her fist there and kept ramming it into her crotch. “Can’t hang on much more,” She squeaked. “Nearly bursting throoooooooough.”
“Me too,” I said, getting up and doing my own pee–pee dance, my rock hard cock squeezed firmly in my fist.
“Tell you what” said Donna suddenly, “Come here. We’re both on the verge of doing it. Let’s hold each other and let go together.” With that we grabbed each other, and held each other tight. Then she put her hand down my jeans and put her palm over the end of my cock. “I want to feel you doing it,” she said, so with that I followed her lead and gently placed my hand on her pussy lips. We both stopped holding it but she started peeing first by a couple of seconds. I had to overcome the erection that I had but we soon both were peeing together.
We stood there for what seemed an age, soaked in pee and in a close embrace. Then we both headed for the bathroom and got in a nice warm shower just as we were, clothes and all. One garment at a time we undressed each other till we were both starkers. We soaped and washed each other; dried each other off and what followed was the steamiest sex session I had ever experienced.
I now give Donna a lift home from the office regularly, and you know what? She never goes to the loo before leaving work. Sometimes she makes it home. Sometimes she doesn’t.
By: Gopher