Barbie does the Dew

Barbie was a great partner for lots of reasons, good sex being among them. In fact, she thoroughly enjoyed a variety of sexual experiences and positions.She thought nothing of parading naked in front of others and sometimes me. In fact, she was open and natural in everything except her bathroom habits, where she was a real prude.
“Peeing is NOT a spectator sport,” she’d say emphatically as she closed the bathroom door. In several years of going together, I’d never seen her on a toilet or squatting in the woods or anywhere else. Unlike other women I’ve known, who thought nothing of squatting behind a bush or beside the car when nature called, Barbie always closed the bathroom door and managed to hold it everywhere else. And that was to be her downfall. Barbie was a tall woman, almost my height at six feet. She was attractive, with a nice body and a beautiful ass. We had been going together for more two years when the Mountain Dew incident occurred.
It was a beautiful warm September day in the Upper Midwest, where we lived at the time. Due to variable schedules, we both had that Tuesday off from work and decided to enjoy a short hike and picnic in the parkland that stretched for miles along the river. A paved bike and walking trail paralleled the river and gave us and others access to many small parks, picnic groves, playgrounds, ball fields, etc. along the river. We walked for maybe a mile in the 75–degree sunshine, enjoying the sounds and the fresh air. A few walkers and bicyclists passed on the trail, but traffic was light. Soon we set up in a small field near a playground about 150 feet off the main trail. There was no one around, since it was a school day.
It was about 1 p.m., so we got out the sandwiches, chips, cookies and, for Barbie, the diet Mountain Dew. Ah, yes, the Mountain Dew! If Barbie had an obsession, it was for diet Mountain Dew. She loved the stuff and drank it daily. Dew had on at least on one previous occasion caused a problem, resulting in her slightly wetting her jeans in a theater near the end of a movie. She had never admitted it to me and had hid the result with her sweatshirt, but I saw and knew what happened. I had never mentioned it, being wise enough to stay away from the topic.
In any case, I had brought a six–pack of the stuff, since sharing the same drink made picnic lunches much easier. The time passed quickly as we sat there in the sun, talking and kissing and enjoying ourselves– and drinking Dew. Lots of Mountain Dew. By 3 o’clock, she had drunk three cans of the stuff to my one and a half – and I had to pee. But she was getting antsy and changing positions and moving in a way I knew from previous experience meant she had to pee, too
We gathered our things, folded up the blanket and started towards the trail. I decided not to wait and said, “I gotta pee. I’m going over here in the trees.”
“Is there a restroom back at the parking area?” she asked as I was peeing in the woods. I knew that if she was asking, she was already pretty desperate, although she’d never admit it.
“I don’t know,” I said, finishing up. “I think there is because there’s a little building with a water fountain. It must be there.” I glanced at her and she didn’t look happy. We were still almost 100 feet off the trail in a grove of trees, so I made a bold offer. “Why don’t you go here? No one can see us, and the trail is empty now, anyway. I’ll act as lookout,” I said.
She hesitated for a moment, making me think she might actually do it, a first! But then she said, “No, I’ll wait.” So we got to the trail and headed back. It was obvious from her gait that she was in bad shape. I’d seen that strange walk before, the one where a woman tries to walk quickly to the restroom while keeping her thighs together. Soon we were back at the parking area and Barbie made it to the building where I thought there might be a restroom. Instead, it was storage building with a water fountain. I could see Barbie was starting to panic. We quickly got into my car and headed out of the park. “OK,” I said as we pulled out of the parking lot. “If we go east, there’s a small shopping center about a mile from here. I assume there are restrooms there, but I don’t know where. Or we can go directly to your house, which is about 3 miles.” “My house,” she quickly replied and I knew she was afraid she wouldn’t make it and embarrass herself at a store or service station.
I should explain here that we were in an area that was rapidly developing from what had been farmland just a few years before. Housing subdivisions and schools and convenience stores were popping up among the open fields. But the roads were all 2–lane ones, built for an earlier era and not really adequate anymore.
“Just don’t wet my new car,” I said with a laugh. Barbie didn’t think it was funny, glared at me and said nothing. I shut up. As we sped over the roads, some of them quite bumpy, I could she was in agony. She crossed and re–crossed her legs, always keeping her thighs pressed together.
We were only a half–mile or so from her place when the incident began to unfold. As we approached a busy railroad grade crossing, I noticed off to the south an approaching coal train. The gates for crossing started coming down while we were still 4 or 5 cars away. We were stuck. There’s a slight grade in the area, so the trains move very slowly here, maybe 3 or 4 mile per hour. We’d be here for at least 10 minutes, maybe longer.
“Oh no, oh shit, oh shit, shit,” Barbie cried. “What am I going to do?” Then she rammed her right hand into her crotch. “You’re going to have to hold it,” I said, knowing that was unlikely in her state.
The area along the road was wide open, with a school on the left and a housing development on the right. There was not a tree or bush nearby and the road itself was just wide enough for the two traffic lanes, one of which was filling with stopped cars. I turned off the engine, as had others, and opened the windows to enjoy the fresh, warm air. An endless string of railroad coal cars rumbled across the road a 100 feet ahead of us. There was no alternative, no way out.
After a few more minutes of moans and thigh tightening, Barbie gave a gasp, grabbed the handle and opened the door. As she swung her legs out of the car and stood up, I could see the dark shiny stain spreading through the crotch of her jeans. She stood up beside the car, the door partly open, and turned towards me. Other people were out of their cars on this beautiful day, so she didn’t seem out of place. But as she turned toward, me I could she the shiny wetness spreading darkly across the front of her jeans. I couldn’t see her shoulders or face, since they were above the top of the doorframe. And I couldn’t see her feet, which were below the doorframe. But at my seated height, I stared directly at the dark wet stain spreading across the front of her jeans.
For the first 10 to 15 seconds, she kept her thighs tightly together, which forced most of the pee upward, where it spread in a widening arc towards her belt. Another strong stream spread left and downward, quickly enveloping her left front thigh. Suddenly she seemed to relax, perhaps sensing the futility of trying halting the flood, and slightly spreading her legs. This now allowed the shiny stain to surge down the inside of both her thighs. It also allowed the pee trickle directly from her crotch downward, where I could hear it splatter on the pavement.
By now I was thoroughly aroused, my cock straining to break out of my jeans. I wanted desperately to grab it and explode all over her, but dared not. Instead, I gripped the steering wheel with both hands in a death grip, staring lustfully at the scene as Barbie peed her jeans. After about 45 seconds, the wetting slowed, then ended. Barbie’s jeans were totally soaked down the insides of her thighs, down the left front thigh and all the way up to her belt. I managed to calm myself down enough to grab a newspaper off the rear seat and spread it on the passenger seat. Off to the left, I could see the end of the train. Some drivers were getting back into their cars and starting their engines. Barbie stood there motionless, her jeans shimmering in their wetness. Finally, Barbie slid back into the seat.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I just couldn’t hold it anymore.”
“I don’t mind,” I said “Accidents happen.”
The crossing gates went up and within minutes we were at her house.
“Can I come in,” I asked as I turned off the car. “I’ll help you clean up.”
She looked at me a bit embarrassed, then said, “Sure, why not.” And as she got out of the car and walked toward the door, I saw that the back of her jeans were soaked all the way from her ass to her shoes. And I became aroused again.
By: R.D. Winston