Caught Out and Caught Short

Caught out and Caught Short
When we are at home and May is going to be there alone in the evening I suggest that she locks the door after about 7 in the evening because we have had a spate of conmen trying gain entry. The summer had ended and it had turned cool with rain almost every day. I had to go to a meeting that finished after 9 and would not be back till after half past. In order to be linked we had a meal together as well as a large bottle of fizzy orange. My meeting would end with a cup of tea so she promised to have one at the same time. We would wait till I got back to let it out.
Well, the meeting lasted a bit longer than expected, as did the tea drinking so both of us had an extra cup. On the way home I gripped the steering wheel and clenched all of my muscles. The relief at seeing our front door always has a relaxing effect on my bladder. May smiled at me through the window as I locked the car. She came to open the door and it would not move. Something in the lock had given way so I waddled round to the back of the house to use my spare key. I fumbled with it and the thing dropped onto the doorstep and bounced neatly into the drain.
May saw what had happened and grinning, mouthed hurry up. By frantic sign language I showed that I no longer had a key. On her side of the back door was the other key that always gives trouble if used from the inside. This time it not only gave trouble but also jammed half way.
We were both in a bit of a state. I mimed holding myself desperately and she nodded vigorously. The answer to the problem was for me to climb in through the kitchen window. It opened satisfactorily and I hoisted myself onto the window ledge swinging one leg over and into the sink–––––––– where the cat had come to see what was going on.
I stood on her tail. She squalled and leapt out. I slid and slumped against the window frame, May started laughing and I overbalanced. Instead of catching me, she had grabbed first for the cat and then, as she lost control, for her crotch. As she bent forward so my foot rode up the side of the sink and I kicked her under the chin. To stop myself from falling onto the kitchen floor I reached for the tap, missed it and fell sideways onto May who was now crouched below me.
As I fell, she lost control again and began to pee. When I dropped on top of her my knees were still in the sink and I’d have been brained if it hadn’t been for striking my head on the middle of her back as I came down. Sliding head first down her back wasn’t elegant but it caused no injury. However we both ended up on the floor lying on our sides.
There was something else we had in common. We both lost it and peed there where we lay. Being anxious about the fierce clout to her chin I quickly turned to find out if she was damaged. Luckily the damage seems to have been mainly to the cat’s pride for it was now sitting outside on the shed roof having left through the flap. May sat on the floor in a pool of pee while I stood beside her with dribbles down my left leg.
“Welcome home dear,” she said.
There was a moment’s silence while we assessed the situation. I was wondering what sort of apology to offer and she was trying to think of a way to let me know I was already forgiven. She’s like that. We’ve put ourselves in some ludicrous situations before when playing our games but this is the first real accident where we could not help peeing.
A sequel to the event occurred the following morning when we were packing the van ready for our next trip on the boat. The lady who lives in the house that overlooks our back door came out to tell us that our cat had spent the night in her garden shed. What she actually said was, “Your cat has been in my shed and she looks quite pissed off at something”. We thought it would have been inappropriate to make any comment so we just asked her to feed the little darling for the two days we were to be away.
The trip was not part of our long journey around the country but just a visit to move the boat a mile or two for some work to be done on it in the next week. Our plan had been to move it and spend the night there and returning the following day. We had already taken our long leisurely breakfast and downed several cups of tea and a glass of orange. As the van was already loaded we bade her goodbye and set off straight away.
We always stop at a roadside cafe on the way for a mid morning pot of tea, so as to arrive in time to enjoy another round of “hold it.” Thus it was that neither of us had any time to spare for a pee break till after midday. As we approached our mooring we found that the forward rope had come adrift and the craft was swinging across the canal. Taking this as an emergency we set to immediately and retrieved it, which took our minds temporarily off of our bodily needs.
No sooner had we done that than a man on the towpath came to tell us that he had watched another boat go by a little while earlier and cause the rope to pull its mooring. Then he went on to give the whole story again and follow it with an account of a similar occasion when he had nobly rescued the drifting boat.
Now, there have been other times when an innocent bystander has taken a part in our games unwittingly. On those occasions we have been able to hide our predicament till the party left. This time we stood on the deck waiting and waiting, willing him to stop. He wasn’t to be foiled of his captive audience. He’d been a seafarer and wanted to tell us of his experiences on the seven seas. It did not take him an hour to tell the tale but it seemed like it.
As he spoke May edged round behind me towards the cabin door and the talker sensed that part of his audience was getting away so he began to address his remarks to her. Standing there in the cabin hatchway with her lower half hidden from view I could hear what she was doing. The slight splish splash on the steps meant that she would be able to stand several more episodes of the tale. How she was able to look him in the eye while she peed I cannot say but she’s done it before and it’s a skill I never had the opportunity to cultivate not being a skirt wearer.
With an aching bladder I listened to him for a few more minutes till I threw caution to the winds, interrupted him and said “May, could you get my medicine I think I’m about to have a funny turn again”. The man halted and said, “are you all right?” I told him I would be OK with my pills but without them I tended to have violent fits. Strangely his nautical tales came to an abrupt end.
He turned to go and I breathed a sigh of relief. That was a mistake. A momentary lapse of concentration and I began to pee. May giggled, “Dirty boy.”
So there you are– caught out and caught short in twenty–four hours.
As I reread these accounts of our time together I feel a bit guilty that I treat May so badly. With her being a forgiving type of person I ought to examine my conscience more carefully especially as I’m so much older than her. Surely, I think, it’s my duty to set a more mature example. With this in mind we took a trip out to see the countryside in winter the other week. The plan was to take a packet of sandwiches and walk several miles across the fields to a piece of woodland where we would sit quietly and appreciate the beauties of the scene and listen to the birds.
We always take our large flask on such occasions. This time we had stopped at a pub for a pint or two on the way so when it came time for the sandwiches we had already taken on most of the days’ fluids.
Sitting there I thought, “This is more the way to treat such a lovely woman.” She expressed a desire to see more of the wood so we plunged into the thickets admiring the growth of fungi, startling some rabbits and a small deer. There was a glade with more signs of wild life in the mulch so we decided to hide and watch to see what might transpire.
Within a few minutes the bird song began again. Two birch trees grew close together; hidden behind them leaning into the crook of a branch we remained completely still and were rewarded with the sight of a fox sniffing its way across the open space. It moved off a bit to our left and May leaned forward to see where it went. Her hand slid off the branch and she lurched forward more than she had intended. The sudden noise startled the fox and it trotted away. May was wedged at her waist with her head out in the glade and her behind beside me.
In order to free her I eased off the branch and came round to face her. However my weight on the branch had been enough to prevent it trapping her completely. Without the weight she could not move even when I bent before her to give her something to push on.
So there we are. If I lean on the branch she gets relief from the pressure that is most noticeable in the bladder region. If I move to her front she can use me to push herself up but the pain increases and she is still not free. Caught fast.
I suppose I am a bit sensitive about all this since it was meant to be a pleasant day out to make up for some of the more testing exploits I’ve put her through. She really has no sense of self–preservation and will give in when faced with a crisis; it’s part of why I find her so endearing and it also allows me to play the white knight.
This time she found her own solution. On the third attempt to push herself up against my cupped hands she had the idea that it would be easier to tumble forwards than to lever herself backwards. I was instructed to stand on the branch to reduce its pinching effect as much as possible and she would try to push up and forwards on to her toes so that she rolled out into the glade. The first attempt failed because her feet were too low to complete the forward roll. With a precarious balance on the large flask she heaved up and over. Coming down head first clear of the tree her skirt inverted to show the favorite abused pink panties with their split seam and feeble elastic.
Struggling on her hands and scrabbling with her feet she managed to escape the tree’s embrace. For a moment she was poised there doing an impressive handstand. Her panties darkened. Her elbows bent and she came down to earth in flurry of skirt and shoes and wee.
In a trice I leapt from the branch to kneel beside her. Hair all over her face, eyes wide and watery, she waved her hands in the helpless gesture that is so typical of her. Anybody else would have been angry or perhaps inconsolable. She seemed to be trying to hold back her tears as though what she had just done were somehow shameful. Sitting with her legs out in front of her, her arms flapping slightly she said, “Sorry.”
As if it had been her fault! That reaction is one of the mysteries about her that I never understood. She didn’t hold out arms for comfort nor did she sit and sob. She just sat there looking wretched. If she did it to make me feel the same she succeeded, yet I know she is not so devious.
In due course she got to her feet and looked at me sorrowfully saying “I always spoil things for you.” I could have mouthed off about “Not at all etc. etc.” I could have enveloped her in my arms the way you would a child who had fallen over. Instead I took her hand and led her slowly back through the wood. I’ve said before that she humbles me with some of her doings and on this occasion she said, as we set off back over the fields, “We’ve forgotten the flask.”
For once my initial intuition was correct and I told her it would wait till another time and we would now go straight back home. What’s more I would treat us to a taxi. The firm was a bit perplexed about picking us up “by the pine tree at the end of the long straight” but was there within ten minutes. The final incident of the day as we were about to get in the back seat of the cab also surprised the driver as his female passenger took off her panties before getting in. Neither of us knew she was going to do this so we both gaped and I said nothing so he kept quiet as well.
I hope that any reader can begin to appreciate why I am so fond of May. So there it ends, caught out, caught short and caught fast.
Yours, Robert
Robert and May