My Trip to Indiana

It’s a long–assed way from the nation’s armpit to its belly button. We were driving all the way from home (NE, US) to southern Indiana, where we planned to ride our bikes (along with 250 other bike nuts) hundreds of miles through the hill country. We decided to split the drive into 2 days and play along the way. Early on the morning of day 2 we stopped in Wal–Mart to pick up another camp chair so there would be someplace to sit at the end of the day…just in case. After we found the perfect chair, and restocked the cooler with water and soft drinks, I started for the checkout line.
But OSO headed me off, herding me instead to the pharmacy section. He’d never been in this town before in his life, but he steered me straight to the wall full of adult diapers like he had a map.
I know I was bright red.
He sorted through the lot and finally picked a package he thought looked suitable, took everything else from my arms, and handed the briefs to me. Then he told me to go to the check out line and pay for them. Once I was through the line he told me to take them to the ladies’ room and pull on a pair before getting back in the car.
What a strange sensation. I never wear underwear, and these were huge. They came all the way up to my belly button and completely covered my ass. The texture was quilted and I could feel them, all bumpy and stretchy under the thin fabric of my skirt when I smoothed my hand over my rump before going out.
Meek and submissive is not my usual style, but I gotta admit, this made me weak in the knees. Particularly when I came out with my new briefs on, feeling for all the world like I had a kitten between my thighs, and he handed me a huge bottle of water.
We had a looong way to go, and we were in my brand new car.
Oh, oh.
I was driving.
He was tormenting.
He had me put on a t–shirt that had holes cut in it directly over my nipples, which he played with without mercy. I had on a short, straight black skirt, sandals, and of course the thick, warm pad nestled between my legs, pressing ever so lightly against my swollen, throbbing clit.
Just feeling the pressure of the brief’s fabric over my bum and around my waist, being so aware of the elastic cutting into the creases of my thighs was making me nuts. It was all so different. My pussy felt really warm and insulated. There was no cool breeze. Whether my knees were together or apart made no difference. I was warm, with a finger of soft, absorbent cotton pressed against my most tender place. And I was starting to really have to go.
I guess I must have gotten to the squirming stage. I confess I wasn’t really aware at that point. I was on fire. All I know is that he told me to exit the interstate and find a place to stop.
The exit was particularly rural so I pulled into the long, curving drive of a trucking company and pulled off the road. He told me he wanted me to wet my panty.
I said I couldn’t.
It was my brand new car, you see, and I’d never done anything like this. I didn’t know if this thick pad pressing into me would work or not. What if it didn’t? What if I wound up peeing on my brand new car seat? I didn’t have a towel with me. And I’d wet my skirt. Surely he didn’t want to travel with me in a soggy skirt, did he?
He said to wet my panty. Well, actually what he said was “Pee. Now.”
I tried, but as bad as I had to go I was all frozen up. I must have looked pathetic because he took pity on me– Sort of. He started counting down from ten, reeaaall slow. And between every number he told me that when he got to one he wanted me to pee myself for him. Just a little, but I had to do it.
The countdown was agonizingly slow. At first I thought he was a bit crazy. It was all so silly. But when he got to seven, I felt myself start to relax. The tension in my belly eased. At six, I settled more deeply into my seat. All the muscles in my ass relaxed. When I heard “five” I felt my legs loosen and start to spread. Not much, but enough.
When he got to four I sank back in my seat and felt my pelvis tip up, easing the pressure on my urethra, opening myself more and more. I couldn’t believe how willing I was to pee, for him, on my brand new car seat.
By the time he got to three it was all I could do to NOT pee. I was holding on for dear life. It was that wonderful / horrible feeling where it aches so badly. I knew I could clamp down harder and the hurt would stop, but if I could just hang on, just a little longer…
He was counting so slowly. I was going insane. I wanted to pee so badly and I had to hold it. I had to stay dry for two more numbers. But I wanted to go now. God, I NEEDED to go now. How was I ever gonna hold back for one more number. Would he never ever get to…
ONE
It started. It wasn’t a flood. It was flowing, not gushing. As bad as I needed to pee, it was a long, slow spurt that took me right off the edge of the world. I could feel it teasing me, pooling, running forward first, up between my labia, warming my mound before it disappeared like a stream in to the desert sand of my warm, pad.
I peed more and it ran back. I could feel it tickling through the canyon of my crack to swell and spread across my cheeks before it disappeared. I was terrified it would leak out the legs or overrun the elastic, but it felt too good to stop. I just kept peeing. And peeing– that slow, steady stream. OSO watched my face with fascination – and a massive erection. Then he told me to stop.
He told me to get out of the car and come around to his side. The brief that had been so soft and dry before was now hot and very heavy. I could feel the weight of it pulling down from my hips. I could feel it silently squish as I walked, though my legs stayed dry.
When I got to his open door he had me stand before him and spread my legs. Then on his word I let everything go. Pee flowed out of me in a torrent. I could feel it overwhelming the pad and gathering against the elastics until suddenly everything broke loose. Pee gushed down my legs splashing into the dust beside the road. My legs were soaked. My sandals were soaked. And still I peed.
I have no idea how long it was before I was empty. It might have been a month for all I know. My brief was sodden and bulky between my legs. Every small movement brought another trickle down my thighs. How my skirt stayed dry I have no idea, but it did.
OSO had me take the panty off and kick it into the soybean field behind me, then he took a sun–warmed bottle of water and rinsed off my legs, drying me with a t–shirt from the back of the car. He even washed out my shoes. Then he tucked me into the passenger seat, got behind the wheel of the car (the seat had stayed dry) and we took off back up the road.
Minutes later, with my skirt at my hips and his hand high between my legs, he marveled at how wet I was. Not that crisp pee wet; the other one. The slick wet that comes from the other place.
The rest of the trip was a blur.
~~~ That was the trip out to Indiana. Just wait until I have time to tell you what happened on the trip back home!
By: Sweet T ( email welcome, just click on the name )