You're not my Mummy, are you?

?
The story that I am about to tell you is from twelve years ago (give or take one) when I was working as a driver for a mini–cab company (private taxi) in North West London, near Kilburn.
Our customers were a wide range of people, many of them were regulars, and being Kilburn there were quite a lot of pubs and bars in the area, so a lot of our work in the evenings was taking customers to and from these various watering holes.
This particular evening started out just like many others, and about 7:30 I got a job over the radio to go to an address in Willesden Green which I knew very well because it was the home of one of our regular customers, an extremely attractive girl in her early twenties with long blonde hair, whom I will call Angie for the purposes of this story.
When I arrived in front of Angie’s address I tooted the horn and waited for her to come out. The house where Angie lived was an old Victorian or Edwardian house, which had been converted into flats, with a big arched open porch and a half glazed front door.
Anyway, after a couple of minutes Angie came out of the front door, together with three friends, all girls of about the same age, and the other three got into the back of the car while Angie got in the front passenger seat and explained that they wanted to go to one of the very popular bars in Kilburn for the evening to celebrate because it was apparently her birthday.
It was springtime, so not particularly warm but not cold either, and I noticed that Angie was wearing a short–ish light blue patterned dress, which was probably a summer dress, but she was also wearing a dark blue jacket over the dress. Two of the other girls also had dresses and jackets, and the third girl was wearing denim jeans and a short leather jacket.
As we drove down to Kilburn all four girls were laughing and joking, and it was quite clear that they had already had a good few drinks at Angie’s flat before I had arrived to pick them up, and that they were obviously determined to have a really good time.
When we arrived at the bar, Angie asked me if I would still be working when the bar closed down at 11:00, and I said that I would, so she asked me if I would come back and pick them up after drinking–up time at about 11:15, so I said that I would and off they went into the bar.
As usual when we got jobs like that, I called in the 11:15 pick–up to the office so that they could log it, make sure not to send me on a long run just before the agreed pick–up time, and also remind me when it was time to go and pick them up.
Anyway, it was a fairly busy evening so I didn’t think much more about it until about 11:00 when I got the reminder call over the radio to go back to the bar to pick up Angie and her friends. When I arrived in front of the bar they weren’t outside, so I parked the car a little way down the road and went into the bar to find them.
I found them soon enough, sitting round a table in a corner laughing and joking even more enthusiastically than they had been earlier. When they saw me come through the door they called me over and I saw that they all still had full glasses in front of them, plus a couple of them also had half full ones as well, so they asked me to sit down for a few minutes until they had finished their drinks.
They were still laughing and joking a lot, and it was obvious that they had all had far too much to drink already, and were all really very drunk indeed. Anyway, we sat there for a few minutes and they all finished their drinks, Angie and two of the others appeared to be drinking lager and the girl in the jeans had what looked like Coke, but judging by her condition it must have had something fairly strong in it as well.
After about ten minutes they had all completely drained their glasses and were ready to leave, so they started to get up but it was obvious that they were all so drunk that it was going to be a bit of a problem to get them all outside and into the car, but slowly they all got to their feet, holding on to each other for support (that was a laugh) and swaying all over the place.
We slowly made our way out of the bar and down the road to the car, all the girls were really very drunk indeed and were walking very un–straight lines. I was in the middle with Angie holding onto my right arm for support, one of the other girls holding on to my left arm, and the other two holding on to them in turn.
Eventually we got to the car, but not before the girl who was holding on to Angie stumbled very badly and almost fell over, but she just managed to stop herself from falling over completely and stood up again, but she stopped walking and just stood still for a few moments, as if to get her breath back.
When we got to the car, they all leant against it for support and I managed to get all the doors open and slowly ‘pour’ Angie’s three friends into the back seat, and her into the front seat again. I should add that I had an Audi 100 so there was plenty of room, and also that the other drivers and I quite were used to this sort of situation because, working in that area, we often had to pick up passengers who were very drunk when the pubs, bars, and clubs closed, so this was nothing out of the ordinary for me.
Having gotten them all into the car, I asked them if I was taking them all back to Angie’s flat, or dropping some of the others off on the way, and after a lot of drunken discussion and friendly arguing it was decided that I would take two of Angie’s friends to their homes in Wembley first, then the other one to Edgware and finally I would drop Angie off back at home in Willesden Green, since she had agreed to pay the fare.
We set off up towards Wembley, and the girls were all chatting animatedly about all sorts of ‘girlie’ things, oblivious to the fact that I was there, but with their slurred speech I sometimes couldn’t make out what they were saying anyway, but one thing I did hear was one of the girls in the back, the one who had almost stumbled over, whispering to Angie (loudly– as drunks do) that she really needed a pee, so could she ask me to stop somewhere.
Angie sort of ignored her at first and just told her that she should be able to wait until she got home, but her friend kept pleading with her and then she said “Please, Angie, I’m going to piss my pants again if we don’t stop somewhere”, so my ears picked that up and I wondered what she meant by ‘again’, but then the girl in the jeans also leaned over to Angie and said she needed to ‘go’ really badly as well, so could we pleeeease find somewhere quickly.
So now Angie turned to me, obviously not realizing that I had heard all their loud whispering anyway, and told me that Katie and Sarah needed to go to the loo urgently, so was there anywhere we could stop, and then these two also started pleading with me to find somewhere, anywhere, because they were both really desperate.
I knew there were no public loos anywhere on the way which would be open at that time of the evening, and all the pubs and bars would now be closed, so the only thing I could think of was the car park of a big shop which was only a slight detour, and not only would it be deserted at that time of the evening, but I had also taken other passengers there in the past to ‘use the facilities’, and there were usually some rubbish skips round by the goods entrance which would give them some cover.
I suggested to the girls that we could go to this shop car park, and they both agreed, and one of them said that I had better be quick though, otherwise I might end up with a wet car, so I made a detour off the normal route and we headed for the shop, turned off the main road and into the shop’s deserted car park.
By now Katie and Sarah were obviously really desperate and pleading with me to hurry, so I headed for the skips by the goods entrance and as we arrived I said I would just turn the car round to give them some privacy, but they both shrieked “No, no, just stop now,” so I just stopped right in front of one of the skips, the one furthest away from the road.
Almost before I had stopped the car, the back door behind me was opening and first Katie, the girl with the jeans, and then Sarah got out, and although Katie walked quite quickly over to the right hand side of the skip, swaying a bit on the way, Sarah was really having a lot of trouble, and she staggered very slowly towards where Katie had gone, taking very short steps with her legs gripped tightly together.
I had accidentally left the headlights on, but that didn’t seem to worry either of the girls because Katie had already started urgently undoing her jeans while she was still walking and didn’t even bother to go right round the side of the skip out of sight, she just got past the corner of it about seven or eight feet in front of the car and quickly pulled her jeans and knickers down in one move, then squatted down, giving me a very nice view of her bare bum as torrents of pee poured out from between her legs and splashed forcefully on the tarmac.
By this time Sarah had managed to join Katie, and much to my surprise she just turned round and using her right hand she quickly grabbed hold of one of the skip’s lifting brackets for support, lifted up the back of her dress with her other hand to keep it off the ground and squatted straight down. Katie finished first and pulled up her knickers and then her jeans, and then she just stood there, open mouthed, looking at Sarah who was by now squatting down facing the car and in full view of everybody was peeing furiously through her red knickers.
When Sarah had finished peeing she got up very slowly, and then went a little further round the side of the skip, just out of sight and Katie turned a bit to see where she was going. A few seconds later Sarah reappeared and the two of them staggered back towards the car, with Katie very drunkenly singing “Sarah’s got no knicks, Sarah’s got no knicks”, and with Sarah telling her to be quiet.
When they got back to the car, Katie leaned through my window and excitedly explained to everyone that Sarah had taken her wet knickers off and thrown them in the skip, and Sarah then asked if anyone had any tissues so that she could wipe herself, so I opened up the glove compartment and handed Sarah a couple of handfuls of tissues from the box I kept in there, and she quite unashamedly lifted up the front of her dress and wiped herself between her legs, and then wiped down her legs and finally her feet and shoes.
It turned out that when Sarah had nearly stumbled over earlier, and had then stood absolutely still for a few seconds, she had actually lost control a bit and had squirted in her knickers for a second or two, and had then stood still to regain control, and that was obviously what she meant when she had said in the car later that she would piss her pants ‘again’ if we didn’t stop somewhere.
Afterwards, when she had got out of the car in the shop car park and was walking slowly towards the skip she had actually been peeing slowly all the way, which was why she didn’t bother to pull her knickers down when she squatted, because they were already soaked anyway.
Anyway, the two girls finally got back into the car and we set off for Wembley, and the rest of the journey was fairly uneventful, we dropped Katie and the other girl, whose name I never did find out, at their homes in Wembley, and then we took the knickerless Sarah to Edgware, who was by now drunkenly singing along with Angie “Sarah’s got no knickers, Sarah’s got a bare arse.”
After we had dropped Sarah off, I turned the car round and headed back towards Willesden Green, and at first Angie couldn’t stop talking about the ‘show’ that Katie and Sarah had put on, and apologizing for them because they were so drunk that they hadn’t realized that I had seen everything in the headlights of the car, but neither did she realize that she was also still very drunk and was slurring all her words.
After a while Angie just went very quiet and kept staring straight out through the front window, and then she seemed to fall asleep. When we got back to her street I managed to find an empty space not too far away from her house and parked the car, at which point Angie suddenly woke up with a loud gasp, but didn’t say anything, so I asked her if she was OK, but she still didn’t say anything, she just kept staring straight ahead and didn’t attempt to get out of the car, so I got out and went round to her side of the car and opened the door.
At first Angie didn’t want to move at all, but then I took hold of her left arm and with a few words of encouragement I managed to persuade her to start getting out of the car. I helped her swing her left leg out and as she leaned back slightly to lift her right leg out she gave another loud gasp, and I couldn’t help seeing right up between her open legs and got a really good view of her white knickers.
I finally managed to help Angie get up out of the car, very slowly, and then I turned round and offered her my right arm for support and she hooked her left arm round my arm and we set off to walk to her house, although progress was very slow because she was so drunk that she almost couldn’t put one foot in front of the other.
Eventually we got to her house and walked up the path towards the front door, and she stopped just before we got to the porch to look for her front door key in her handbag, which was quite a large bag with long straps, which allowed her to carry it over her shoulder. There was plenty of light coming from the lights in the porch outside and from the hallway inside the house, and Angie started rummaging through her handbag to find her front door key.
It never ceases to amaze me how much stuff women keep in their handbags, and Angie was certainly no exception, but she did seem to be having a great deal of difficulty finding her key. After a few minutes rummaging around in her bag she started getting extremely agitated because she couldn’t find her key, cursing a lot and saying to herself things like “Come on you bastard, you must be in here somewhere,” and the more she looked without finding it, the more frantic she got, rummaging around more quickly and more furiously.
Suddenly she stopped, let the handbag drop back onto her shoulder, grabbed my right arm really tightly with both her hands, looked up at me (I’m over 6 feet 3 inches, about 191 cm) and said to me in a very, very slurred voice “You’re not my Mummy, are you?”
Well, I really didn’t know quite what to say to that, so I just said, “No, I’m not your Mummy, but why are you asking me that?”
She then replied with something that made even less sense to me, she said, “Because I don’t like having my bottom smacked.”
Now I was really puzzled, so I just said, “Why are you telling me now that you don’t like having your bottom smacked?”
She then looked up at me again and started crying and said, “Well, when I was a little girl and I wet my knickers, my Mummy used to smack my bottom very hard, and I didn’t like it because it hurt a lot.”
Now it was getting interesting, so I just looked down at her and said “So what?” and she started sobbing even more and said “Because I’m wetting my knickers now – look.”
As she was saying this, she lifted the front of her dress right up so that I could see in the light from the porch that, sure enough, she was wetting her knickers. In fact her pee was now absolutely gushing out from between her legs, through her knickers, and was cascading down both her legs and into her open–toed shoes and forming an ever–increasing puddle around her feet.
Although I had already had a good view of Angie’s white knickers when she was getting out of the car, all I had seen in the dimly lit street was that they were white, but I could now see that they were actually very brief lacy ones, very sheer and almost transparent, and they were getting even more transparent as they became soaked with her pee.
Well, I didn’t really know what to do or say, here was this extremely attractive girl hanging onto my arm with one hand, holding the front of her dress up with the other and sobbing uncontrollably while she thoroughly peed herself, so I just said quietly “Well, never mind, it can happen to anyone, especially when you’ve been out and had a really good time, and anyway it already happened to Sarah, didn’t it?”
She just stood there and, still sobbing, she said “Yes, but Sarah is always wetting her knickers and I don’t do that, so please promise that you won’t smack my bottom even though I’ve been a very naughty girl,” so I said that of course I wouldn’t, and she just sighed and realizing that she had now stopped peeing, she let go of the front of her dress and it dropped back down.
However, as her dress dropped it got caught up between us where she had been leaning into me and hanging onto my arm so tightly, so she used her free had to smooth it down, and as she was doing this her hand accidentally brushed the front of my trousers, which sent a bit of a shock through me as my cock was by now rock hard, but I didn’t think that she had noticed.
I then said to her that we would still have to find her front door key, and she started looking in her handbag again, but still couldn’t find it, and then she suddenly seemed to remember something and put her right hand in her jacket pocket, and pulled out the key, which had obviously never been in her handbag at all, she must have just absent–mindedly slipped it into her jacket pocket when they were leaving the house earlier.
Angie then bent down, with me supporting her, and took off her shoes, shook the pee off them and wiped her feet as best she could on the grass at the side of the path, and then I helped her to the front door and unlocked it for her.
I then asked her if she would be OK to get to her flat on her own, or did she want me to go with her, but she said there was a handrail so she would be OK, then thanked me for being so understanding and put her arm up, pulled my head towards her and gave me a big kiss on the cheek, said “Thank you” and then went inside and closed the door.
I walked back to the car, still thinking about the events of the last hour, and as I was driving away I realized that I hadn’t asked Angie for the fare, but in view of all the ‘entertainment’ that Angie and her friends had provided for me, I really wasn’t worried, so I didn’t think any more about it.
However, a few days later I was working in the evening as usual and got a call over the radio asking me to go to Angie’s address again to pick her up. When I arrived outside her house she was already standing outside and got into the car with a broad smile and we set off. She said that she was glad I was working tonight, she had apparently asked the office specifically to send me if I was working.
She then asked me if I remembered when I took her and her friends home on her birthday a few nights earlier (how could I ever forget?), so I said “Yes, I hope you got into your flat OK,” and she replied “Yes I got in OK, but I think there must have been quite a few dribbles on the carpet in the hallway and on the stairs,” and then she giggled really mischievously.
Angie then said that she had realized the next day that she hadn’t given me the fare for taking them home that evening, and asked me how much it was. I told her how much the fare was and she paid me, with a good tip, and when she had put her purse back in her handbag she pulled out a little gift–wrapped package, opened up the glove compartment and put it in, saying that this was a little present for me and that I should open it later.
I thanked her very much, and after I had dropped her off where she was going I carried on working for the rest of the evening and I didn’t really give Angie’s present much thought until I had finished work and got home, and I then decided to open the package.
When I opened up the package, I found a neatly folded pair of sheer lacy white knickers (washed) and a note which said: “Dear Peter, Thanks so much for being helpful and sympathetic the other evening, Katie and Sarah send their thanks too. We really shouldn’t have got as drunk as we did, disgracing ourselves like that. Even though I was so drunk, I promise you I can still remember all that happened, and I did notice something stiff in your trousers after I wet my knickers in front of you, so you had obviously got turned on by that and I thought you might like to have them as a little memento of the occasion. Angie”.
PeeSpy (email welcome)