Returning from the Zoo

Here we are, returning from the Zoo, located some miles away from our city. Travelling in the car is my wife Michele and I, and a couple of friends: Max and Barbara. Max is driving (it’s his car) and Barbara is sitting beside him, while I’m behind her and by my side is Michele. Well, “travelling” is really just an expression, because we left the Zoo an hour ago and we’re still half way from home, stuck on the highway in the middle of a traffic jam. For Max and I it’s just an inconvenience, but for the ladies it’s much worse. They’re both dying for a pee, and they can’t do anything about it but try to hold on.
All of this started when we were at the Zoo. As it was a Monday on a holiday weekend and also happened to be the day when the new arrivals were presented to the public, “everybody” was there. The facilities were overloaded and there was a line for everything you wanted to do, including the bathrooms and the porta–potties they had added for the occasion. The girls had used the toilets before lunch, and we men at different times of the afternoon, just a short while before we had to leave.
It was almost sunset when went to see the deer. In the entrance Michele tells me “I hope it doesn’t takes too long, I have to use the toilet.” “Don’t worry” I replied, “The tour lasts less than 20 minutes.” So we four entered, thinking about letting the girls join the queue for the toilets before we left. But while we were making the tour, the weather (that hadn’t been so nice before) began to worsen rapidly, and by the time the tour ended the keepers were putting the small cages inside because of the storm that was coming. Seeing the state of things, we walked as fast as we could to the car, and completely forgot about Michele’s situation (and if she remembered it, she said nothing), we just hopped into the car and took a place in the queue to exit, because everybody was leaving at the same time.
Half and hour later Michele leaned over to me and whispered: “Gus, how long do you calculate ‘till we get home? I still need to pee.”
Then I remembered her predicament, and looking at her I could see that she had her legs tightly together and her hands placed over them (she was wearing grey brownish pants). By that time there were plenty of cars, but we were still moving, so I replied, also whispering: “I think that in half and hour or three quarters we will be there, can you hold it or I should ask Max to stop in a gas station?”
“No, it’s ok, I can hold it.”
So we kept on moving, progressively slower while more cars joined us on the highway towards the city. Meanwhile, I was thinking how about Barbara’s state, because she hadn’t gone to the bathroom after lunch, and we had drank al least one can of soda each after that. She hadn’t said anything about it yet, but I could tell that in the front seat she was having problems staying still. I could feel the back of her seat moving every once in a while when she was switching positions, and she was obviously less comfortable every minute. Fifteen minutes after Michele whispered her question, Barbara finally asked hers: “Maxi, do you believe that you can stop in a gas station, since I need to use the toilet?”
“And how I supposed to do that? We are barely moving and there’s no gas station anywhere in sight!”
“But I need to pee! With the queues that were in front the toilets at the zoo I couldn’t go since this morning, and I really have to go!”
“Ok, but you’ll have to hold it, because this will take a while.”
Then Michele joined in too, saying that she didn’t want to leave and also didn’t think that she could hold it much longer.
“I need to pee too, Max. Can you try to get to the station as soon as possible?”
“Another one? What’s this, the peers club? Gus, don’t you need to go too?”
I decided to stay neutral and ignore his question.
Finally Max relaxed: “Ok. I’ll do what I can, but don’t expect too much, this is moving way too slow and I can’t tell how long we’ll have to wait until the next exit.”
“Thanks, Maxi” answers Barbara, “But please don’t take too long, I don’t know how long I can hold it.”
That was fifteen minutes ago. The storm hasn’t showed its face, but since then we haven’t moved too much either and the girls are getting really desperate. Michele has her legs crossed with one hand between them and a finger putting pressure in her pee hole through the fabric, her head hanging down, eyes closed, and lips tightly closed to maintain concentration. Barbara can’t stay sitting still, moving in the front seat changing positions now and then, with sometimes one hand, sometimes both (as far as I can tell from the position of her shoulders) holding the crotch of her jeans. Now I hear her moaning under her breath and see her turning to my friend: “Oh, Maxi, I can’t hold it anymore, if we don’t stop NOW I’ll pee myself!”
“Barb, I can’t do anything, we’re stuck in the traffic and barely moving, what do you want me to do?”
“I don’t know, invent something, stop on the shoulder and we’ll go beside the car, whatever but now!!”
“I can’t stop on the shoulder, it’s forbidden!” he tries to reason.
“Look Max! If you don’t want me to leave a pool in the seat you had better park on that shoulder and let me out!” she answers, pointing to the side of the highway, three rows of cars over.
“Ok, but you’ll have to hold it a little longer while I change lanes, can you?”
“I don’t know, I hope so, but hurry!!”
“And you Michele, how are you doing?” he asks, looking through the rear–view mirror, but without seeing her.
“Hhmmm…” is the only answer out of Michele, but I can see that she’s shaking from the tension of holding it inside. I put an arm around her shoulders and place the other hand over her thigh to calm her down, but she doesn’t pay any attention to me, all her focus is in not having an accident in the back seat of our friend’s car.
Max begins to change lanes, but the minutes pass and we are only one lane closer to the shoulder.
“Oh, this takes forever, I’ll pee myself, I’ll pee myself” the voice of Barbara is heard, more high–pitched than usual.
We are moving to the next lane when we hear Barbara saying “Oooohh.. OOHHH!!” and I see her bend while holding her crotch with both hands. Max looks at her and asks: “Are you ok?”
“No! I’m losing it, I can’t hold it, I’ll gonna pee my pants!” she replies between breaths.
“No, you’ll hold it, you’ll see, everything’s gonna be…” he’s interrupted by the red lights of the car in front of us. He pushes the brake and the inertia that makes shakes us. Barbara screams “OH! OH! OOOOHH!” and throws herself against the back of the seat while crossing her legs trying not to let go right there. But I can tell that she doesn’t quite make it, because I can see that Max looks at her crotch with shock and says: “Barbara, please, hold it a little longer, don’t pee all over the seat, we’re almost there!” and while he tries to move to the next lane, the last one before the shoulder, I picture the circle of wetness that my friend surely saw in his girlfriend’s crotch and can’t avoid getting a boner just thinking about it.
Meanwhile, I can feel that Michele is still trembling under my hands. During the braking, her thigh tensed against my fingers, and now she seems more relaxed, until a quick shake and an “aahh!!!” tells me that she’s also losing the battle.
But Barbara is getting all the attention, screaming “Ah, Ah, Maxi, I’m peeing, I can’t make it, I’ll pee my pants, I can’t hold it any longer!” while she twists in front of me. Then I have an idea, I look inside the bag beside me and tell her “here, take this and sit over it, so if you pee at least you don’t get the seat wet” while I shove a plastic bag between the front seats.
“Good thought, Gus,” agrees Max, and talking to his girlfriend “come on Barb, put this under you, so if you can’t hold it all in, this will hold it”
“I can’t, I can’t!!… If I let go I’ll pee! You put it!”
“I can’t either, I’m driving…” and he looks at me through the rear–view mirror, “Gus, can you help her?”
“Ok” I reply, and lean forward. I say to her “Barbara, I’ll release the seat belt so you can stand up and I can put the bag beneath you, ok?” while I battle with the lock of the front seat belt, my hands shaking with the excitement.
“There you are, now stand up a little!” I tell her while leaning forward to reach the side of her seat with the bag spread in the left hand. She moves up, still holding herself with one hand while holding on to the front panel with the other. I place the bag under her ass, pulling it between the seat and her body. I feel in the back of my hand her ass cheek through her jeans, and then the tips of her wet fingers that are holding the crotch of her pants, also wet as I’m covering the center of her seat. I’m finishing placing the bag over the seat when I hear Barbara scream “OOHHHHH!! NOOOOOO!!! I’M… LOOSING… IT!! I’M… PEEING!!!” and then I hear the splashing over the plastic and my shirtsleeve is getting very wet, while she begins to cry helplessly.
I can’t believe it; my friend’s girlfriend is peeing all over my hand! Holding my excitement (I almost cum there and then) I remove my hand while trying not to take the bag out of place and I hear Max beside me screaming “BARBARA, HOLD IT!!!” and she replies crying “I CAN’T! I CAN’T! I WAS DYING! I’M SORRYYY!!” while the splashing of liquid against plastic increases. She’s still leaning forward, holding onto the dashboard, while her bladder empties and the pee flows between her legs and falls in streams from her jeans to the plastic bag. I stand there, holding onto the back of her seat and watching the pee pooling into the bag and then running to the back of the seat and disappearing beneath it.
I sit again and can now see rivulets of pee falling from the back of Barbara’s seat to the floor at my feet. Then I hear Michele fighting her own desperation, knowing that the splashing of Barbara’s pee isn’t helping, and looking at her I see that the crotch of her pants is now much darker than the rest of it. I scream to my friend: “Come on Max, get in the shoulder or Michele will pee her pants too!”
He moves the car and suddenly has to push the brake, making Barbara, who is still pissing, fall over the seat with a “splash.” That spatters some of the pee that the bag is holding, and making the remainder of her pee make a pool between her legs.
At last my friend gets the car onto the shoulder and parks, and some of the pee pooled in front of Barbara falls in front of her seat when he brakes. He turns around and says to my wife: “Come on, get out!”
At first Michele doesn’t react, but then she looks at me with shiny eyes and says: “Gus, the belt!” So I release my seat belt and hers, and then open the door and move out of the car so she can get out too, because on her side there are the lanes of the highway.
“Come on, honey, you can get out now,” I tell her and she looks at me with a desperate plea, “I can’t, if I move I’ll lose it!”
“Come on, you can do it, let me help you” and I reach inside the car to grab her urine wet hand and pull her out. She moves a little in her seat and gives me the other hand also, so I can see the big wet spot between her legs and the dark circle she left on the seat.
I pull her out the car completely and she stands up. I think that she is going try to unbutton her pants, but it seems that she’s already beyond that point. She takes a step, holds onto the frame of the door with both hands, and with an “OH! aaaahhhhhh!” she lets go. The dark spot that covers half her butt and goes down to half her thigh spreads rapidly down her left leg, leaving behind her knee and reaching the bottom of her pants, from where a stream of pee falls to the asphalt below. She seems to keep peeing forever, with the pee flowing down her pants reflecting the lights of the highway, standing still and with her head over her hands, she leaned against the car’s door.
Meanwhile, Barbara has recovered from the shock of having peed herself. She opens the door and gets out, trying not to spill the pee that remains on top of the plastic bag. She stands up slowly and looks at me with teary eyes, standing with her legs apart and a little bend. Looking at her face to face I can’t see much of her accident, just a darker spot between her legs that can be barely seen spreading down to her knees. But when she turns around and leans over her seat to throw away the pee containing plastic bag, the size of it becomes obvious: her ass is completely wet, as well as all the back of her legs to the knees, and lines of wetness go down to her feet where the pee held up in her jeans went down when she stood.
Michele has finished peeing and is standing in a pool of pee that slowly spreads to the side of the shoulder. There is another pool below the front door, where Barbara threw the contents of the bag, even though most of her pee fell behind her seat or on her feet when Max braked. He is cursing from inside the car, seeing that both the front seat and the back seat ended up getting wet. I approach Michele and hug her, and then she puts her head on my shoulder. I see that Barbara is still sobbing and the cursing of my friend isn’t helping her, so I tell her with my free hand to come closer. She comes to me, walking with her legs slightly apart due to the rubbing of her wet pants. I hug her too, and she begins to cry again over my other shoulder, while I caress her hear to comfort her.
Standing there, beside the highway, hugging two wet girls that have just peed themselves, feeling their wet pants brushing against mine, hearing the last drops of pee falling from Michele’s pants and splashing on the ground, I feel like I can’t hold it either, and explode in my pants without even touching myself.
By: Gus74