Flight of Fancy

Andy looked at Helen in amazement. “Surely you’re not wearing that for the flight home?” he asked.
“Why not?” she replied. “It’s practical, isn’t it?”
“Practical?” Andy snorted. “It’s so short you’ll flash your knickers to the whole plane every time you sit down, and you’ll freeze when we arrive back at Luton. It’s about five degrees in England at the moment, you know. Now, just run this past me again will you: where’s the practicality in that?”
“It’s short enough that nobody will notice if I pull it out from under my bum when I sit down. That’s what’s practical about it.”
“Ah!” said Andy, shaking his head in bewilderment. “It’s obvious once you say it.”
“So if I should have an accident, it hopefully won’t get wet. And on top of that it’s dark blue, so if it does get wet it shouldn’t show very much.”
“You’ll still flash your knickers.”
“Perhaps,” Helen conceded. “But I’m wearing the dark blue ones which are an almost perfect match for the dress, so with any luck most people won’t even notice.”
“Yeah right.”
“Tell you what, though. I was thinking of giving you a special flash all to yourself. But since you’d obviously rather I got some practice at keeping my knickers covered … “
“Go on then,” Andy cajoled her. “Give me a quick flash.”
“No. Shan’t.” And she stuck her tongue out at him.
“Alright then. I’ll just have to come and get you!”
Helen tried to scramble away across the double bed, which they’d made such good use of during their week in Alicante, but Andy was too quick for her. Springing after her, he grabbed hold of one ankle, then the other, and dragged her back across the bed until the tops of her thighs were at its very edge. Then, in one deft motion, he twisted her legs and rolled her over so that she was lying face up with the front of her dress trucked up around her chest and her dark blue knickers exposed to view from crotch to waist band.
“By Jove!” he exclaimed. “They do match, don’t they?” Then he leaned forward and kissed her belly button.
“That tickles,” Helen giggled.
“Shall I do it again then?” Andy grinned. “Shall I keep tickling you until you wet yourself?”
“Not a good idea,” said Helen. “The only knickers I’ve got left to change into are light blue, or white with little blue flowers on them. They’d be much more obvious under this dress, if I should accidentally expose them to view; and you wouldn’t like that, would you?”
“I guess not,” Andy mused. “Which means there’s only one thing for it, doesn’t it? They’re coming off!”
He slid his hands down inside the waist band of Helen’s dark blue knickers, and she lifted her hips to enable him to slip them down over her warm, soft thighs. Then she sat up on the edge of the bed, and they undressed each other. Andy looked at Helen’s well–formed breasts, and she looked down at his bulging red cock, which was standing stiff and tall and very evidently aroused.
“Race you to the en suite?” he suggested.
“You’re on!” she replied; and the two naked nineteen year–olds scrambled for the door of the little shower room attached to their hotel room. They arrived more or less together and Andy stood aside to let Helen in first; then he pounced on her and started tickling her mercilessly.
“No, Andy, NO!” she shrieked in delight, laughing uncontrollably and struggling for breath as she did so. “You’ll make me wet myself if you don’t stop!”
“So why should I stop?” Andy grinned, and redoubled his efforts. His reward came almost instantly as Helen suddenly gasped “Oh” Oh” Stop it Andy! Oh, too late!” and collapsed in a heaving, giggling heap. Andy looked down to where she was sitting on the cold tile floor, legs akimbo, her back propped up against the door of the shower cubicle. She was peeing uncontrollably, and a huge golden puddle had already formed between her thighs and was rapidly spreading down between her legs and outwards from them.
“Okay,” he nodded. “I’ll stop tickling you now.”
Helen stuck her tongue out at him again, and gradually regained control over her breathing. She didn’t try to regain control over her bladder, however: she simply let it all pour out. Then, when she had finished, she looked up at Andy and pouted. She fluttered her eyelashes and tilted her head to one side slightly. Then, in her best “little girl” voice, she said: “Helen wet.”
“Oh dear,” said Andy, in his best attempt at a “concerned grown–up” voice. “Did Helen have a little accident?”
“No,” Helen replied, grumpily. “Helen had a big accident. Helen all wet. Helen need shower.”
“Then Helen should take a shower,” Andy soothed.
“Will Andy shower with Helen?”
“You bet,” he replied, perhaps a little over–enthusiastically, and with that they both climbed into the little cubicle. Helen stood facing the showerhead, with Andy behind her; and as the warm water caressed her body from in front, he caressed it from behind. Gently at first, then more firmly, he cupped her breasts and circled her nipples with his fingertips. Then he dropped one hand to her belly, and lower still, as he began to kiss the nape of her neck and her shoulders. Meanwhile she reached back and stroked up his thigh to his cock, which she grasped in one hand and gently stroked up – down – and up again – and down again.
“Helen?” he whispered in her ear.
“Mmm?”
“There’s one more condom in the packet, you know.”
Helen shut off the water and turned to look at Andy. She grinned. “Race you to the bed?”
When they were done they lay for a while, on top of the sheets, gently embracing each other.
“Helen?” Andy asked at length.
“Mmm?”
“Are you really planning to wear that dress for the flight home? And those knickers?”
“Yes.”
“For the reasons you said?”
“Yes.”
“So you really are afraid you might wet yourself on the ‘plane?”
“I did on the way here, didn’t I?”
“Well, yes,” Andy conceded. “But the circumstances were rather exceptional, weren’t they?”
The flight out had been the first time Helen had ever flown in an aeroplane; and when they got to the airport she had started to become very, VERY anxious. She had not expected to have any trouble flying; but she knew terror when she experienced it, and as the time to board their flight approached she had realised that she was, unaccountably, absolutely terrified of doing so. Eventually Andy had declared that there was only one thing for it, and taken her to the airport bar where he bought her drink after drink after drink. With half a dozen double Bacardi and cokes inside her she had felt much less anxious; and much less stable on her feet, too, so that Andy had had to put an arm firmly around her waist to help support her weight as they walked to their ‘plane. She’d enjoyed that.
Once aboard, Andy had turned to her and said “There! That wasn’t so difficult now, was it?” And Helen had replied “No, but going to the loo will be. And I’ll need to go soon.”
Three times during the flight Helen had tapped Andy on the shoulder and said “Loo. Now.” Andy had understood that it was his task to help her get there, and quickly; and each time they’d come back from the toilet and sat back in their seats with Helen’s knickers still dry. Then came the fourth time– Helen poked Andy in the ribs and was just about to speak when the intercom went “Bing! Bong!” and a light flashed on above each of their seats saying “Fasten Seat Belts”. Helen and Andy had duly complied, although Helen had looked pretty distressed about it, and two minutes later they had run into some pretty major turbulence. They flew through the turbulence for ten minutes, with Helen fidgeting and wriggling and writhing in her seat while the ‘plane shuddered and juddered on its way. And then they had hit the air pocket. It was, quite simply, the most enormous air pocket Andy had ever experienced. For Helen, it was her first air pocket, and as the ‘plane seemed to go into freefall she shrieked in terror. Then she sobbed “Oh no, oh no, oh nooooo!” and Andy, looking across, saw a huge dark stain spreading across her lap. She was wearing light grey slacks and the wet patch was going to show, big time. Andy put his arm around his girlfriend’s shoulder and tried to console her, but there wasn’t a lot he could do for her. When they finally arrived in Alicante, as they stood to get off the ‘plane, Andy noticed that Helen wasn’t the only one with wet clothes: but he didn’t think that it would help to point that out to her, so he didn’t.
When they got to their hotel Helen took herself straight to bed without having any supper. She insisted that Andy go and have a meal, however, and he had half expected her to be fast asleep when he came back up to their room. At first he thought she was. She was lying in bed in the foetal position, sucking her thumb, and Andy sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her hair tenderly. So he was a bit surprised when she sat up abruptly; and he didn’t sit back out of her way quickly enough to avoid a painful clunking of heads.
“Ow!” he said.
“Sorry,” she said. Then “Andy?”
“Mmm?”
“You know those plastic pants you wear at night in case you wet the bed?”
“I believe I do, yes.”
“Did you bring just the one pair, or do you carry spares?”
“I carry spares,” he replied. “Don’t want to have to wear the same ones again if I should have an accident one night, do I?”
“Thank goodness for that,” said Helen. “Can I borrow a pair? It’s just, I can’t get to sleep because I’m lying here in a muck sweat for fear I’ll be the one who wets the bed tonight.”
“Just because you had an accident in the ‘plane when you were strapped in and terrified,” Andy sighed, “that doesn’t mean you’re suddenly going to become a bed–wetter as well, does it now?”
“I wet the bed when we went camping at Wells.”
“On the last night, when you were drunk, as I recall, and it was pissing with rain so you didn’t want to venture out of the tent.”
“I’m drunk now.”
“Helen!” Andy sounded exasperated. “The en–suite toilet is, at most, five metres away from the bed, and it’s hardly going to start raining in the bedroom. I really don’t think it’s necessary, you know.”
“Humour me?”
Looking down at his anxious girlfriend, Andy’s resistance collapsed, and he relented. “Alright,” he said. “Let me get ready for bed, and we can put them on together.”
Helen watched as Andy stripped to his underpants and went to his suitcase. He extracted two pairs of plastic pants and held them up, and Helen took that as her signal to come and join him. She was naked except for a pair of coral pink knickers.
“Why are you wearing your bikini bottoms, Helen?”
“It’s not a bikini,” Helen confessed. “Never was.”
“But you said … “
“I know what I said. I lied, okay?”
“Okay.”
Helen took a pair of plastic pants from Andy and pulled them up over her knickers. They felt funny, but they were strangely comforting. Reassuring.
“Thanks,” she said. “Look, Andy, there’s something I ought to tell you about all this. But not now– in the morning, okay?”
“Okay,” said Andy, and they went to bed.
Next morning Helen woke to find Andy gently nuzzling her neck. She sighed contentedly, and stroked his arm.
“Helen?”
“Mmm?”
“Did you sleep okay?”
“Yes.”
“Are you dry this morning?”
“Yes.”
“Well, I’m not. So I’m just going for a shower, okay? See you in a minute or two.”
“Okay.”
Helen lay back and listened as Andy padded softly through to the little en suite shower room and turned on the water. She heard him close the little cubicle door behind him, and noticed how the note of the running water changed as it began to splash onto his manly torso. The sound of running water also made her realise that, actually, although she had woken up dry, she was really quite desperately in need of a pee. She remembered the other times she’d been badly in need of a pee in Andy’s company. The times she hadn’t quite made it and had wet her knickers. The accidental discovery that wetting herself was actually a very sensuous, erotic thing to do. She thought guiltily of all the times that she’d wet herself deliberately since then, to recapture the sensuous pleasure of it all; and she wondered how it would feel to wet herself with plastic protective pants over her knickers, so her wee would have nowhere to escape to.
As these thoughts ran through her mind, her hand had found its way down between her legs, and she had started stroking herself very gently. Stimulating. Caressing. Arousing. And she thought about Andy. Poor Andy! He had been so embarrassed about his bed wetting; and yet when she had wet her bed in the tent at Wells and was so upset about it, he had admitted everything to her, and had even wet himself to keep her company so she wouldn’t feel so bad about it. Bless him! And surely, she mused, one good turn deserved another. Well, didn’t it?
And so she turned back the cover, and checked that no part of her knickers was protruding beyond the tight elasticised cuffs at the legs and waist of the plastic protective pants. Then she had spread her legs wide and relaxed, watching in fascination as the dark stain spread rapidly up the front of her knickers, feeling at the same time its warm progress across her bottom. When she was done she reached down to “finish off”, as she always called it; but then she stopped herself. Andy was still showering in the next room, was he not? And she had a better idea. She got up and followed him into the en suite. When she felt the cold tiles under her bare feet she sighed, and pulled the leg cuff of the plastic pants aside a bit to allow a little trickle of pee to run down the inside of her thigh, her knee, her calf, her ankle and her heel until finally it formed a little puddle on the floor. Mmmm. That felt good. But to have Andy caressing her thigh would feel so much better. So she gently stripped off her plastic pants and soggy knickers, and climbed into the shower with him.
“Hi,” he grinned.
“Hi,” she replied. “I, er, need a shower too now. My knickers aren’t dry any more.”
“You wet yourself?”
“Mmm hmm”
“But Helen, you hardly had any distance to walk to get to the loo. And you were dry when you woke up. So how come you had an accident?”
“I didn’t,” she replied simply. “I had a deliberate. Same as you, in the tent at Wells.”
And then she’d told him about her accidents when they’d gone punting. And how the second time, at Byron’s Pool, as she fought a losing battle to control the little dribbles that were dampening her knickers and trickling down her leg she’d decided that she actually enjoyed the sensation, finding it remarkably sensuous. And then she’d told him about all the times he’d not been there to hold her and caress her, so she’d wet herself on purpose and imagined that the dribbles of pee running down the inside of her thighs had been his fingers caressing her most sensitive parts. And then she had said “Andy, does all this disgust you?” And he hadn’t replied. He’d just taken her hand in his and guided it gently down to his crotch, so she could feel he had the most incredible hard on. Then he’d said “There’s some condoms in my suitcase.” She’d fetched one, and they’d had the most incredible sex they’d ever experienced, right there, standing in the shower. Afterwards she’d towelled herself off, then went and lay on the bed. Andy had followed her out shortly afterwards, and she grinned up at him goofily.
“Andy?”
“Mmm?”
“What would you have done if you’d found out about my accidents when we were punting?”
“I’d have cursed,” Andy said, “because I didn’t have any condoms with me on either occasion.”
“You mean, you really do get turned on if I wet my knickers?”
“Incredibly.”
“So would you like me to wet myself for you again some time?”
“Does the Pope shit in the woods?”
“Eh?”
“It’s just a mixed metaphor,” Andy shrugged.
“Meaning?”
“Meaning yes. Now, shall we get dressed or what?”
“Does what involve a condom?”
“It might do.”
“Then let’s what first; and get dressed after.”
“You’re impossible,” Andy grinned, as he rolled off the bed and fetched another condom from his suitcase.
After that, they’d had some sort of pee fun as part of their sex play every day of the holiday. Sometimes Helen had wet herself for him deliberately, and other times she’d let him engineer a situation in which she’d got caught short with nowhere to go. And once, on the third day, she’d had a genuine accident, although of course she hadn’t exactly been trying all that hard to avoid having one. They’d taken a hire car for the day and driven out to a remote little fishing village, where they spent a long lazy afternoon lying on the beach, soaking up the sun and drinking the local wine. Or rather, Andy had done the driving, and Helen had done the drinking– out of necessity. Although Andy had sworn that he’s have been gallant and let her do the drinking even if she could have driven.
They’d both passed their driving tests about six months previously, Helen at her first attempt and Andy at his third, and they’d put all their money together and bought a little old Fiesta which they’d called “Princess Fiona” after the character in Shrek, on account of it’s being green. Not having to rely on their parents for transport had made life a lot easier; but about a month after they had bought the car Helen had had a bit of a bump. Princess Fiona wasn’t too badly hurt, and Helen and Andy agreed that they could live with a dented wing; but the other car was rather more badly damaged and there was no way they could pay for the repairs it needed without claiming on their insurance. So when they tried to hire a car in Spain, they found that the Spanish insurers were happy to let Andy drive it, but they drew the line at the nineteen–year–old English girl who had only had a full driving licence for six months and already had an insurance claim history.
So Andy drove, and Helen drank a whole bottle of wine during the course of the afternoon as she lay on the beach pretending that her black knickers and bra was a black bikini. Andy wasn’t fooled, of course. But she no longer cared if Andy saw her in her knickers and bra. Their relationship had progressed well beyond that stage. Eventually, as the sun was dipping towards the western horizon, Andy had said, “I reckon it’s about time we headed back to the hotel, don’t you?”
Helen had rolled onto her tummy and pouted up at him. “Make love to me?”
“What, now?”
“Why not?”
“Because this is rural Spain and they’re all good Catholics, and you don’t just go round shagging on their beaches. Wait ‘til we get back to the hotel.”
“Okay then,” said Helen, leaping to her feet. “Race you to the car.” So saying, she had run across the beach towards the path which led up to the car park, while Andy stopped to pick up her little cotton sun dress, towels and tanning lotion, and followed on behind. When he reached the car she was standing beside the passenger door, arms folded, tapping her foot impatiently.
“Come on then,” she urged him. “Chop! Chop!”
“Don’t you want to go to the toilet first or anything?”
“I’ll be alright,” Helen insisted.
“You sure? It’s a long drive back, you know.”
“Of course I’m sure,” Helen had said, so he didn’t press the point. Unfortunately, however, Andy had got hopelessly lost and the drive back had taken far longer than the drive out. Darkness fell, and Helen didn’t want to distract Andy from the all–important task of finding his way back toe the hotel again. So she tried to hold on. And as she sat there wriggling and fidgeting and squirming, Andy eventually said “Helen, have you any idea how distracting that is?”
“What?” she asked. “What?”
“Fidgeting about like that as though you’re about to wet yourself.”
“But I am about to wet myself,” Helen protested.
“Now THAT knowledge is even more distracting,” said Andy. “You won’t believe how hard I am here. But I think we’re only about ten miles from the hotel now. Do you think you can manage to hold on for just fifteen minutes longer?”
The only answer Andy got to this was a faint hissing noise from somewhere deep down in Helen’s lap.
“I’ll take that as a no,” he said. And then he burst out laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Helen demanded.
“The car hire people,” Andy spluttered between guffaws.
“What about them?”
“Well,” Andy explained, “they wouldn’t let you drive because they didn’t want you to have an accident in their car. But you’ve just had one anyway.”
“Humph!” said Helen, and pretended to be annoyed. But she couldn’t keep up the pretence for long, and by the time they got back to the hotel not only had she forgiven Andy for laughing at her accident, but she was feeling so incredibly horny that she practically dragged him up to their room and positively tore off his clothes as soon as the door had closed behind them. The sex they had that night had undoubtedly been the best of the whole holiday. But the other nights had all been pretty wonderful, too, Helen reflected as she dreamily pulled up her dark blue cotton knickers, and fastened the buttons up the front of her little matching dark blue dress.
“There,” she said when she was fully clothed. “I’m dressed and ready for the flight. My last two pairs of clean knickers are in my hand luggage just in case. And you’re the one that’s running late, as ever.”
“I’m the one,” said Andy, emerging from the en suite with a double armful of toiletries, “that remembered to check you hadn’t left all your expensive lotions and potions behind.”
“Oh,” said Helen. And then “Well, I’ll just have a wee before we set off. Don’t want to risk an accident on the way to the airport.”
“Try to think about something else,” Andy said to his girlfriend’s back as she disappeared into the little en suite. He listened as she locked the door and then, a moment or two later, he heard the soft tinkling sound of her pee splashing into the toilet bowl. Then the toilet flushing, the door opening, and Helen came back out into the bedroom. Her dress was unbuttoned and gaping open, revealing her tits and her dark blue knickers.
“Helen…” he began.
“I though you might appreciate one last little peek,” Helen grinned.
“Come here!” He held out his arms, and she rushed eagerly forward into his embrace, pressing the front of her knickers up against the bulge in the front of Andy’s jeans. He kissed her tenderly on the forehead, then the tip of her nose, the point of her chin, each of her nipples in turn, her belly button, and finally the front of her knickers. He knelt on the floor in front of her, his hands gently stroking the backs of her thighs, and pressed his nose against the soft fabric between her legs. He nodded his head, which had the effect of pressing his nose hard against her mound, burrowing and furrowing deeper and deeper in. And then it was pressing the fabric against her clitoris, and she gasped in surprise at how sensuous it felt. Gasped, too, as she realised that despite having been to the toilet just a moment ago, her bladder wasn’t quite empty. Andy’s nose brought her to an almost instant orgasm, and as she shuddered in ecstasy she also peed just a little in her knicks. It was just enough to make a little wet spot the size of a two–pound coin– a little uncomfortable, perhaps, but nothing too serious.
“Mmm,” said Andy, whose nose was still pressed hard against the front of her knickers. “That smells divine.”
He stood again and kissed her with intensity she had never known before, and as he did she felt the rhythmic pulsating of his cock pumping out semen as he, too, reached orgasm.
They separated, and Andy looked down at the front of his jeans. “Bugger!” he said.
Helen looked too, and saw a large, dark spot where Andy had come in his pants. She giggled. “Looks like you’re the one who needs to get changed for once.”
“Yes,” he said. “Fortunately I’ve got one pair of clean pants left, and I can put my other jeans on, but they won’t be as comfortable to travel in.”
“It’s your own fault,” said Helen. “You’re the one who chose to get us both all sexually excited.”
“You encouraged me.”
“You didn’t exactly need much encouragement, as I recall.”
“I could have given you an orgasm and not come myself, if only you hadn’t wet yourself.”
“I hardly wet myself,” Helen protested. “It was just a little dribble.”
“A dribble of what?”
“Of pee.”
“Exactly,” said Andy. “You peed– in your knickers. In other words, you wet yourself.”
“Okay,” said Helen. “So I wet myself. But it wasn’t exactly deliberate. Hopefully I won’t be doing it again today. But I think maybe I’d better go to the loo now just to make sure.”
“Again?”
“Yes. Again. And while I’m there you can get changed. Take a last look at my knickers if you want. It’s the last you’ll see of them today. I’m going to button my dress up again before I come out of the loo.”
Fifteen minutes later, along with fifty other British holidaymakers, they boarded the coach which would take them to the airport. Andy, ever the gentleman, let Helen board the coach ahead of him, hanging back a little as she climbed the steps in order to satisfy himself that she’d been wrong when she told him that he wouldn’t be seeing her knickers again today. Noting that she hadn’t changed and was still wearing the dark blue knickers that she’d wet slightly in their hotel room, he clambered aboard behind her and they settled down to a long afternoon of delays. First the incoming jet was late, and just got later and later. Helen got more and more nervous, and Andy bought her drink after drink to keep her calm. They were just spritzers, this time, rather than spirits, in the hope that she wouldn’t get too drunk. And Helen, for her part, trotted off to the loo every half hour or so because she was determined that, this time, she wouldn’t wet her knickers on the ‘plane even if they had to keep their seat belts fastened for the entire flight.
Eventually the incoming flight arrived and they were able to board their ‘plane. Once again Andy let Helen go first as they climbed the steps, enjoying the view up her dress and shaking his head in disbelief at just how good a match it was for those dark blue knickers of hers. They found their seats, and Helen took the one by the window. The light came on instructing them to fasten their seat belts, and the big jet slowly rolled across the tarmac towards the runway. Then it came to a stop, and they stood motionless for what seemed like an eternity. Helen was growing uncomfortable and crossed her legs. Then she pulled her skirt out from underneath her bottom at the back. Andy, noticing what she was doing, ran his hand up her thigh until it found her knickers, then moved it deftly across her bum and finally slipped a finger down inside her waist band. He gently caressed the warm skin on her hip.
“That’s a bit defeatist, isn’t it?” he said.
“What?” said Helen.
“The skirt thing.”
“Sensible precaution, that’s all.”
And then the engines started to roar and whine, and the aeroplane laboured out to the end of the runway to take its turn at flinging itself into the sky. A little child somewhere behind them suddenly declared “Mummy, I need a wee wee,” and Helen thought “you and me both”. And then the pitch of the engines changed again, and the ‘plane seemed to be turning; and looking out of the window, Helen saw they were facing across the runway rather than along it.
“Bing! Bong!” went the intercom service, and then a voice came on. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We seem to have a problem with the starboard engine, and I have advised the control tower that I am aborting this take off. We’re going to be delayed by a couple of hours while an engineer has a look at it. Please be patient, and we should be on our way before too long.”
They trundled across the tarmac and came to a stand. An aerial platform truck drove across the airfield and lifted a man in overalls up to the engine cowling, where he peered at it and started prodding things with a screwdriver. The “fasten seatbelts” sign stayed on, and Helen sat on her hands trying desperately to make herself comfortable. After about twenty minutes a stewardess wandered down the aisle dispensing smiles and reassurance. She passed Helen and Andy; and a moment later a shrill voice somewhere behind them boomed out “Excuse me, miss. Is it really necessary for us to keep our seat belts fastened all this time? My daughter here is desperate for the toilet, and I really can’t see why we shouldn’t be able to get up and walk about a little while the mechanic is working on the ‘plane.” The stewardess said “I’ll see what I can do, madam,” and hurried forward into the cockpit. A moment later the “fasten seatbelts” lights went off, and Helen jumped up to run to the toilet. She was third in line, behind the lady and her little daughter; and was pleased to note that when the little girl emerged from the cubicles she showed no signs of having had an accident.
“Okay?” she smiled at the little girl.
“I am now,” the girl replied.
And so am I, thought Helen as she closed the door behind her and pulled her knickers down. They were completely dry now, the evidence of her little accident when Andy had frotted her with his nose having long since dried up, and that was how she intended to keep them.
Helen returned to her seat and watched the engineer at work through the little window. After another half an hour or so he spoke into a radio handset, and the aerial platform was lowered to the ground. Then the captain came on the intercom again.
“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m afraid the problem is worse than we thought, and it cannot be fixed without some parts which will have to be flown in from Britain. This ‘plane will have to be taken out of service. You will all be offered overnight hotel accommodation at our expense, and we will try to get another ‘plane out to fly you back first thing tomorrow morning.”
The hotel that they were taken to was pleasant enough, but nothing special. They were, however, given a decent evening meal; after which Helen and Andy hit the bar. They spent something approaching two hours knocking back whatever took their fancy, and then returned to their bedroom.
“Sex, please” said Helen, as Andy closed the door behind him.
“No condoms,” said Andy.
“I can’t believe you didn’t bring enough to have a spare packet or two,” said Helen reproachfully. “You’re useless, you are.”
“No I’m not,” Andy protested. “I brought several packets more than I thought we’d need, and have at least two left over. But they’re all in my suitcase.”
“So get them out.”
“I can’t,” said Andy. “The suitcase is still in the ‘plane. We’ve only got our cabin baggage with us, remember; and as I didn’t think we’d be likely to indulge in in–flight sex, it never occurred to me to put the condoms in my cabin baggage.”
“Ah,” said Helen. “I see.”
“But if you’d like to take your dress off and climb into bed in your knickers,” Andy continued, “I’m sure I can find something to do that you’ll enjoy nearly as much.”
Two hours later, when they had tried every form of sexual stimulation they could think of which didn’t involve removing their underwear; they lay in each other’s arms, sweaty and exhausted.
“Andy?” said Helen.
“Mmm?”
“I’ll sleep well tonight.”
“Good.”
“And I’m drunk.”
“Good.”
“Maybe not.”
“Why’s that?”
“Plastic pants? Just in case.”
“Sorry.”
“Please? Humour me – like the first night?”
“I’d love to Helen,” said Andy, “and if I could, believe me I would. But I can’t. I packed them all in my suitcase, too. So we’re both going to have to sleep without protection tonight.”
“Oh,” said Helen, “But what if one of us wets the bed?”
“I’m sure the other will understand.”
“That’s not what I meant. What about the sheets?”
“They’ll get wet.”
“Yes, but … “
“It can’t be helped, Helen. So lets just get some sleep, and hope to wake up dry.”
They didn’t. Wake up dry, that is. Helen woke first, feeling cold and damp, and lay there for a moment or two before realising what the problem was. Then she slipped a hand down under her bottom to make sure. The back of her knickers was wet, and so was the sheet underneath her. She thought about waking Andy, but he was still sleeping peacefully. So she got up and showered, then dressed herself. She chose to wear the light blue knickers under her dark blue dress. She’d have to be extra careful not to flash her knickers today, she realised, because there was no way anybody could be in any doubt that the flash of light blue they had seen was indeed her knickers. But she wasn’t too worried, because she had always been very good at not flashing her knickers – unless she wanted to, of course.
When Helen wandered back through into the bedroom Andy was awake and up, naked, busily stripping the sheets from the bed.
“Looks like you were right,” he said. “I could have done with a pair of plastic pants last night.”
“Eh?”
“I wet the bed.”
“I thought it was me.”
“Well, one of us did– or both of us, perhaps. Who knows? It doesn’t really matter anyway, does it?”
“Doesn’t it?”
“Why should it?”
“Pride, mostly,” Helen admitted. “I’d like to think it wasn’t me who wet the bed.”
“I see,” said Andy. “So you’d like it to have been me?”
“That’s not what I said.”
“It’s what it amounts to.”
“Yes, but … “
“Let’s not argue about this, Helen. It happened, whoever it was, and that’s that. We need to strip the bed, and I need to borrow one of your spare pairs of knickers because I’ve no dry pants to put on.”
“I’ll let you borrow a pair of my knickers on one condition,” said Helen.
“What’s that?”
“You admit it was you who wet the bed last night.”
“Okay,” said Andy, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I admit I wet the bed last night, regardless which of us really did it.”
“Hmmm,” said Helen.
“Knickers now? Please?”
“You’ll have to have the ones with flowers on.”
“Can’t I have the light blue ones?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m already wearing them.”
Helen gave Andy her last dry pair of knickers, and laughed as he struggled to put them on. She may have been a little on the chubby side, but they were nevertheless a tight fit on Andy.
“Hey!” he protested. “That’s not fair!”
“Yes it is. You laughed at me when I had an accident in the hire car, after all.”
“Hmm.”
The tour company bus returned them to the airport, and this time their ‘plane took off without a hitch. Helen was anxious, naturally enough; but this time she declined Andy’s offer of something to drink to calm her down because she was uncomfortably aware of the fact that she was wearing her last dry pair of knickers, and had absolutely nothing to change into if she should have an accident. Not that she need have worried. It was perfect flying weather, and the “fasten seatbelts” sign stayed off throughout. Nevertheless, Helen was taking no chances: she got up to go to the toilet practically every fifteen minutes; and Andy couldn’t help but notice with a wry smile that though Helen evidently thought her dress was long enough to keep her light blue knickers covered, the fact was that it wasn’t – and every time she got up to go to the toilet half a dozen heads turned to enjoy the view.
As Helen drove Princess Fiona home from Luton airport, Andy turned to her and grinned.
“No wet knickers today, then?”
“Give me time,” she replied. “The day’s still young. And it’s a long drive home with few places to stop.”
“But you’ll be able to make it, won’t you?”
“I don’t quite know,” she confessed, a slightly anxious note creeping into her voice. “I was up and down so often on the ‘plane that my bladder seems to have got the idea that it’s going to be allowed to wee every quarter of an hour or so. It’s already half an hour since we left the airport terminal building, and I’ve not had another chance to wee since.”
“And?”
“And I’ve never had an accident in Princess Fiona. Well … not that sort of accident. But … “ her voice trailed off and she bit her lip.
“But there’s a first time for everything?” suggested Andy.
“Quite so,” said Helen.
By: Indigo