The Long Drive


Written by David North

      After an interesting Christmas stay with my girlfriend Julia's parents, or at least with her mother since her father was away in the States on business, we decided to head back to my home in Wycliffe, a small village about fifteen miles from Canterbury, in time for the New Year. The journey was only about 130 miles by road, but it takes the better part of three hours even on a good day. We therefore decided to set off early in the morning in the hope of missing the worst of the traffic.

      I was gratified to note that Julia had decided on a pair of jeans today. She possessed wonderful legs and a pert little backside, and the way the denim hugged her contours was really quite mesmerising. Not for the first time, I counted myself fortunate to have such an attractive girlfriend, and one with such an attractive personality. It became a little rough around the edges when she found herself with a full bladder with no hope of a loo in sight, but then most people get cranky undere those conditions.

      I had just finished loading the suitcases into the boot of the Volvo and was just reaching in to retrieve a bag I had tucked away with the footpump when, standing behind me, Julia asked, "Want me to drive?"

      "No. I'll do it," My reply was prompt because I was anxious not to let her take the wheel; that would really have messed up my plans for the trip.

      "Okay," she agreed, and went to the passenger's side of the car. I breathed a sigh of relief, closed the boot and climbed in behind the wheel.

      As I secured my safety belt, I saw Julia notice the bag I had placed on the floor at my feet. An inquisitive frown flitted across her brow as she regarded me, waiting for an answer to her unspoken question. I decided to plunge in before I lost my nerve, even though Julia had been a good sport about my little perversions in the four months since I had revealed them to her. More than that, she seemed to get something out of it too.

      "Um, I was wondering...um...if...um...?" I began.

      "Uh-oh," she said, making a playful grimace. "Three ums in one unfinished sentence. Let me guess." She paused, and rather than stammer on, I waited to see what she was going to say. "This wouldn't involve my bladder getting uncomfortably full on this trip, would it?"

      "Well, um..." I answered meekly.

      "Hmm indeed. What a surprise, David. And how long will I have to wait, always assuming I agree to be tortured?"

      I picked up the bag from the floor and pulled out two pairs of handcuffs. Julia eyed them warily. "I see your policeman friend has been supplying you with more equipment," she observed. "The last I knew, you only had one pair."

      "Which you put to such good use on my account that wonderful weekend back in--."

      "Don't remind me," she interrupted. "You haven't answered my question."

      "Well, um..."

      "David, you really need to work on your communications skills."

      "All right. I want to make you wait until you get home."

      "You're kidding?"

      "No."

      "But that's three hours or more. I can't go that long without a loo, not after drinking coffee at breakfast."

      "How do you know until you try?"

      She sighed, and for a moment I thought she was going to refuse. Then she smiled. "I'm only doing this because I like how big Mr. Wiggly gets on these occasions. And I fully expect to have unlimited access to him for the rest of the day."

      "It's a deal," I agreed excitedly. "You're a gem,"

      "Don't you mean a jewel?" she corrected, brushing my cheek with her lips.

      "Exactly."

      "So, how do you want to do this?"

      "Well, I thought I would handcuff each wrist to the frame of the seat."

      "By my sides, you mean?" When I nodded, she went on, "Good. At least I won't have to sit with my arms pulled round the back of the seat. That would ache too much."

      "Right," I agreed.

      "Alright then. Let's say goodbye to much and drive up the road a little way, then you can put them on me. I'd rather she didn't see."

      "Of course."

      We said our goodbyes and, after driving for about ten minutes, I pulled into a Services area on the outskirts of Winchester. I parked well away from the other cars and switched off then engine. I took the two pairs of bracelets from under my seat and, looking at Julia, waggled my eyebrows suggestively. She looked through the windscreen, and following her gaze I found that she was eyeing the cafeteria. "I was wondering if I ought to go to the loo first, before you lock my wrists and I'm trapped in here."

      "No, no, no," I answered playfully. "You don't need to do that."

      "Hmm, easy for you to say."

      "Come on. You'll be fine."

      As I said this, I took hold of her right arm and closed one of the bracelets around her wrist. She watched me do it without offering any resistance, so I closed the other bracelet around the metal frame of the seat at the back, right corner of her seat. She flexed the cuffs until the short chain was taut, and I noticed that she could only reach up as far as her hip. She wouldn't be able to reach round to her front to unbutton or unzip her jeans once I had both wrists secured. I went hard just thinking about what was to come.

      I leaned over her and she willingly held out her left hand. I locked one bracelet of the other pair of cuffs around her wrist, then asked her to put her arm down by her side. I reached around the back of the chair, groping for the free bracelet. After some seconds of stretching and waggling my fingers, I managed to retrieve it and hook it around the back left corner of the chair frame.

      As it closed with an audible click, a thrill of excitement rippled through me, because I knew I had her. She was now anchored her seat, and no matter how desperately she ended up wanting to get out of the car, she wouldn't be able to do so unless I released it. The strength of my sexual response to this knowledge was overpowering, and as soon as I was sitting up again, I leaned over and kissed Julia full on the mouth. As her lips pressed back against mine, I felt a sudden, urgent desire to ejaculate in my pants. As if reading my mind, Julia said, "Well, looks like I'm in trouble now."

      I lowered my right hand to her thigh and squeezed it just above the knee. She spasmed and grunted, ending the kiss. "Don't," she protested. "You know it makes me squeal."

      "Yep," I said, "and there's not a thing you can do about it."

      "Oh, this was a mistake," she declared as I squeezed her thigh again. She yelped and giggled and did her best to pull her leg free of my grip, but of course she couldn't.

      "So, Jooles, how much coffee did you have this morning."

      "Two cups," she supplied readily.

      "Good."

      "I did go to the loo though."

      "Before or after?"

      "Well, before," she admitted.

      "Double good."

      "Pervert," she teased.

      "Before you start calling me names, remember that there are lots of places to stop en route and buy drinks."

      "You can if you like. I won't drink any of them."

      "Oh, I think after I've tickled your knees for a few minutes, you'll soon change your mind."

      "Git."

      "Yep. Right from birth."

      We got underway again and made good progress along the M3, reaching the junction leading to the M25 in less than an hour. We chatted for a while about the skiing holiday we planned to take in Switzerland at the end of February before Julia moved on to the subject of her father's infidelity which had been troubling her all over Christmas. "I can't believe he can do that to my mother. I mean, why wouldn't he be satisfied with her/ She looks great for her age. Actually, I'd give my hind teeth to look like her when I reach middle age. I mean Chris, what makes a man sleep around when he's got a beautiful wife? What is it about men that makes them do that?"

      "I don't know, love," I said.

      "Do you ever get tempted by other women?" she asked me directly. I thought for a moment about how close I had come to seducing her mother, then shook my head. "But you did hesitate," she said. She rarely missed those little clues and nuances which betrayed a lie.

      "I'm trying to concentrate on my driving," I said, not actually lying. When she remained silent, I added, "I think there is always temptation, but if you really love someone, you don't really want someone else. I mean, I look at pretty girls, but that doesn't mean I want to jump into bed with them. It's just a natural thing to do, like admiring a beautiful work or art."

      "Beautiful work of art," she echoed sardonically. "Just let me catch you."

      "You won't," I teased and reached over to grab her knee again. As I squeezed her thigh she sucked in air between clenched teeth.

      "Don't," she protested, and it didn't sound playful. I hoped that meant what I wanted it to mean.

      "Why not?" I asked.

      She drew a deep breath, swelling her breasts for a moment before she released it and said, "As if you didn't know."

      "Bladder problems?"

      "Mm-mm," she nodded.

      "Oh, good," I said again.

      "Yes, I thought you'd be pleased."

      "I certainly am. In fact, I need to take a leak myself, so what about if I stop at the next Services to go, and while I'm at it I'll buy us something to drink?"

      "There's no chance that you'll let me go to the loo as well, I suppose?"

      "Not even a glimmer of a hope," I said with relish.

      "Didn't think so," she said in a defeated little voice.

      "A deal's a deal."

      "I'm really just not sure I want to go on holding this for another couple of hours. It's really going to hurt."

      "Don't even think about peeing on that seat,' I warned her.

      "Oh, I see. It's all right for my mother to do so, but not me?"

      "You know very well it come over a hundred quid to get it cleaned so that it didn't smell anymore. I don't want my car stinking of piss for weeks on end."

      "How odd, for someone who likes to see women wet themselves."

      "Well, odd it may be, but that's how it is."

      We fell silent for a minute, during which I thought about her mood and wondered if I had correctly guessed its source. "Jooles," I said finally.

      "What?"

      "Are you jealous about me doing stuff with your mum over Christmas?"

      "No, of course not."

      "It's just that something's wrong, and that's all I can think of to explain it."

      "Oh," she began, then hesitated. "I...I suppose I am a bit."

      "But you were the one who tied her up in her bedroom for me to find," I pointed out. Under the circumstances, I thought I showed considerable restraint."

      "True," she conceded, "but what about the next time?"

      "What next time?"

      She regarded me with eyes which sparkled a little, as if tears might not be far below the surface. "She's got a taste for it now."

      "Jooles. Come on," I soothed, reached over to touch her cheek. "You surely know me better than that?"

      "I'd like to think I do," she said, "but it scares me a bit."

      "Well, stop it. You've got nothing to be scared about. It's you and me forever."

      "Do you really mean that?"

      "You know I do. I've never felt this way about anyone else, and I'm certainly not about to throw that away. Like it or not, you're stuck with me...unless you pee all over my car seat, that is. Then I might have to reconsider."

      She laughed then, a relaxed laugh which conveyed the relief she was feeling. "Thanks Dave. I love you."

      "Ditto, as they say in the movies."

      Just then, we passed a sign announcing that the Services were only one mile. "Almost there," I said, grinning across at her. "So, shall I get you a large coke?"

      "No," she said, smiling back at me. "I'd rather have a bottle spring water."

      "You got it," I said. "In fact, I'll buy you two."

      "Pig," she said, and I went on grinning like an idiot because things were all right between us again.

      As I entered the gents at the Services, I could not help but think of poor Julia trapped in the car and nursing an aching bladder. I felt a moment of compunction, and wondered if perhaps I should free her to use to loo after all. But then I stiffened my resolve: She had agreed to wait until she got home, and had not really protested at my treatment of her. In fact, I was fairly sure she derived some pleasure from it too, even when she was bursting to pee. I pushed away any idea of relenting and went into the shop to buy a coke for me and two bottles of spring water for Julia, as promised.

      When I got back to the car, I found her sitting there with her legs crossed. As I sank into the driver's seat, she said, "I thought I was going to have some trouble a few minutes ago."

      "How's that?"

      "Some bloke came over and started asking me for directions to some place I'd never heard of. Of course, I couldn't wind down the window or anything, and I had to keep my hands out of sight to hide the handcuffs, otherwise he might have called the police."

      "Christ. Where is he now?"

      "Oh, he's gone. Someone passing by heard him and seemed to know where he wanted to go, so they walked off together."

      "There's always one, isn't there."

      "Always, my darling. So, ready to torture me with water?"

      "Absolutely." I glanced down at her crossed thighs. "Getting a bit desperate?"

      "A bit, but I expect I'll manage."

      I unscrewed the cap on one of the bottles and held it to her lips. She wrapped her lips around it and tipped her head back as I raised the bottom of the bottle. She drank greedily for perhaps five seconds, then made a noise through her nose to signal me to lower the bottle. I complied, and she drew in a breath. "Oh, it's cold," she said.

      "Straight from the fridge," I said.

      "Oh. Why is it that cold water makes me want to pee even more than when it's at room temperature?"

      "All psychological, I expect," I offered.

      "Suppose so."

      "More?"

      "Do I have a choice?"

      "No."

      "No," she said, rolling her eyes as I again raised the lip of the bottle to her mouth. She took several deep gulps, then paused to draw in a breath through her nose, then resumed drinking. To my surprised, she kept going like this until the bottle was empty. She'd consumed half a litre.

      "Wow," I said when she had finished. "You're living dangerously."

      "Just don't hang about on the rest of the journey," she said. "I'm fast approaching the point where I won't be able to sit still, so I don't know what I'm going to do after another hour."

      "I'm looking forward to find out."

      "You're really are such a pervert," she teased me again.

      "One-hundred and ten percent," I informed her, tossing the empty bottle onto the back seat and opening the coke. I drank about half of it, taking the opportunity to run my free hand up and down Julia's right thigh. She groaned at my touch, sensually rather out of the desire to do something about her tightening bladder. It made me think about the bedroom delights awaiting me--awaiting us--that evening.

      After a minute or so, Julia said, "Let's get going Dave."

      "Okay," I agreed, and a few minutes later we were back on the M25 and heading for the point where we could join the M26 which would take us most of the way to Canterbury. I estimated that it would take about another ninety minutes to get home, and I was hopeful that Julia could last that long. Of course, I was reckoning without encountering one of the M25's notorious traffic jams.

      As we approached the solid wall of motionless cars blocking the way ahead, stretching off into the distance for as far as the eye could see, Julia said, "Oh no. Oh pleased no."

      "Oh dear," I said, but without much feeling.

      Under normal circumstances, traffic jams were a total pain in the arse, but the circumstances were far from normal. I had a desperate young woman chained up in the car beside me, which meant I had something to keep me from getting board. Of course, poor Julia was not able to look at this way. She would have given a lot just then to be comfortable and bored, but it was not to be.

      "Oh Dave, what am I going to do. I'm starting to get desperate for the loo." As if to reinforce this statement, she uncrossed her legs and began bouncing both knees up and down as she tapped her heels on the floor. She even made a futile attempt to reach up to her abdomen, but the handcuffs stopped her short. I guessed that she was experiencing a strong desire to put a hand between her legs and press on her crotch to remove a little of the strain from her muscles. "Oh, damn," she said in frustration. "Unlock these things. I need to do something to help me hold on."

      I knew she would be furious, but the temptation to keep her chained up and unable to use her hands to help her wait was too strong for me to deny.

      As we waited for the traffic to move, Julia returned to her favourite topic of her father's infidelity, more or less repeating everything she'd said earlier. She didn't really have anything new to add, but I think the act of talking about it help to take her mind off her predicament for a while. As we chatted, I watched her knees bobbing up and down, and could even hear her heels making contact with the carpeted floor, which meant she was wiggling more vigorously than before.

      Finally, she stretched out her legs and pushed her feet hard down against the floor of the footwell, and even through the denim sheathing her legs, I could see her thigh muscles flexing. She quickly resorting to banging her knees together, a movement which caused her body to bounce up and down slightly. The situation with her bladder was clearly growing serious, and my penis stiffened to the point where it literally ached.

      After a further ten minutes of fidgeting, Julia finally released a low, protracted moan, then said in a sharp tone, "Oh come on you wankers, for Christ's sake!"

      I looked at the way ahead, and thought that I could see movement in the distance. "I think something's happening up ahead," I pointed out. Julia looked too and nodded.

      "At last. I can't sit here like this much longer."

      "You don't really have any choice," I said, reasonably enough.

      "If I have to, I'll get out and pee on the verge. Anything's better than sitting here in agony."

      "That might be difficult," I said, "since you're handcuffed to your seat."

      "Then you'll just have to un-handcuff me, won't you," she snapped.

      "Jooles, you can't get out there and pull your jeans and knickers down in front of hundreds of people."

      "And I can't pee on the seat either, can I. So what do you suggest?"

      "Hey. Calm down."

      "How the hell can I calm down Dave? I'm dying to go to the loo and some idiot had blocked the road and delayed me from getting home. I can hardly go on holding it forever, can I."

      "Well, you won't have to. The traffic's definitely moving up there, so we should be on our way in a couple of minutes."

      "We'd better be, otherwise you're going to take these handcuffs off and let me get out of the car for a piss. All right?"

      I knew it was only the pain of her full bladder that was making her angry, but I still didn't like it when she got peevish like this. Then again, I could hardly blame her. Experiencing an odd mixture of guilt and sympathy for her condition, I reached over with my left hand and tried to slide my fingers down between her thighs. She had her legs squeezed together so tightly that I really couldn't gain access. "Let me help," I said gently.

      Her eyes flashed with momentary annoyance, and then she gave a curt nod and relaxed her muscles just enough to let my fingers in between her thighs. I moved my hand up a inch until I made contact with her crotch, and then I pushed against it as hard as I could. "Come forward a little," she instructed in a strained voice. I moved my fingers up towards her public bone and resumed pressure. "Ooohhh," she gasped in relief. "Ohhh. Oohhhh."

      "Helping?" I asked.

      She nodded, and sat there with her eyes closed and head slightly tipped back. I redoubled my efforts and pressed even harder, and she groaned even more.

      We stayed like this for several minutes, towards the end of which I began rubbing my hand up and down as well as maintain pressure against her groin. She squirmed as I massaged her, and I could tell that the rhythmic motion of my fingers was starting to arouse her, despite the appalling pressure on her bladder. Finally, she gasped in a hoarse whisper, "Don't make me cum or I'll wet myself."

      "Okay," I agreed, and went on applying pressure without moving my fingers.

      Then, finally, we were underway again. I kept my hand in place for a while, helping her to suppress her ever-mounting desire to urinate, but as we gathered speed I was forced to put both hands on the wheel. As the journey progressed, Julia's squirming and leg-wiggling grew increasingly frantic, and she began chanting about holding on, punctuated only by the occasional intake of breath between her teeth. She was literally bouncing up and down on her seat by this time, and glancing down from time to time, I noticed that she was maintaining a tight grip on the frame where the handcuffs were secured. I imagined she was gripping hard with both hands, and that it was somehow helping to keep her from losing control of what had to be a massively over-filled bladder.

      Conversation became increasingly sporadic as we continued and her restricted gyrations became more jerky. At one point, I almost suggested that she might care to drink some more water, but a look at the irritable expression on her face made me abandon that idea. The problem for me was that, as we lapsed into longer and longer bouts of silence, my thoughts increasingly strayed to my bulging penis and my own desire to ejaculate. Finally, unable to resist the urge any longer, I gripped my swollen penis and began squeezing it so hard that it hurt. I felt a rush of pleasure and pain which combined to bring me to the edge of shooting my load.

      In the middle of all this, I glanced across at Julia's wiggling legs and then noticed her watching what I was doing. Without smiling, she said, "God, I wish I could do that."

      "What?" I gasped breathlessly. "Squeeze my dick?"

      She shook her head. "Squeeze myself down there. Shit, if I could reach I'd squeeze myself so hard it would be like ramming a cork back into a bottle of champagne. Cork myself up. Stop it coming out. Oh God, I really need to reach myself down there. Please take these cuffs off Dave. Please."

      Her pleas only contributed to my mounting urge until, like a burning freight train, semen burst through the tunnel of my penis and collided with the wall of my pants. Surge after surge followed until my penis was literally trapped inside the sticky soup. While this was going on, I fought to keep at least some of my concentration on the road ahead, praying that a situation requiring a fast reaction would not develop, because I was in absolutely no condition to deal with it.

      Gradually, my body sagged with relief. As my breathing began to settle down, Julia said acidly, "I'm glad one of us is feeling relaxed. I can't, of course, can't relax because if I do I'll flood the seat, not to mention my new jeans, with about a gallon of piss, and all because my vindictive boyfriend won't let me go!"

      "Jooles," I began, but she interrupted me.

      "Can it. I'm breaking my bloody neck and I'm in no mood to listen to anything you've got to say." Her words really stung, and I looked at her in mild shock. I must have taken my eyes off the road for longer than I thought, because she suddenly screamed, "Watch out!"

      Looking back through the windscreen, I found that I was rapidly gaining on an articulated lorry. Surprise of surprises, the driver was actually indicating that he was about to take an exit, and was therefore slowing down. I braked hard, making the Volvo veer towards the hard shoulder for a second before I recovered control. It was very close, and I immediately lowered my cruising speed. A brush was death was always a good reminder of one's mortality, however fleeting.

      "I'm sorry Dave," Julia said after a minute. "I didn't mean what I said. I'm just..."

      "Ratty," I finished for her. "Because I'm in pain. By bladder is really, really swollen and it hurts like hell. I can't cope with it much longer, Dave. Honestly I can't."

      "We should be home in about forty-five minutes," I said hopefully, but she shook her head.

      "You're not listening. I'm about to burst. I can't possibly hold it in for another forty-five minutes. My bladder would just explode."

      "Okay," I conceded. "So what do you want to do?"

      "Apart from having a minute-long piss? Well, for a start, I want you to undo the button on my jeans, and lower the zip. That should take a bit of pressure off and buy me a little time, but I'm warning you, it won't be long."

      "Okay," I said again, and reached over to release the button. The heel of my palm pressing on Julia's abdomen as I wrestled to push the button through the hole. Where she was so swollen, however, her waistband was tight and it was quite a struggle. She gasped as I accidentally twisted my hand and applied more pressure, raising her knees and bending forward to compensate. Just as she did so, the button popped free. "Straighten up and I'll undo the zip," I said.

      "Ohhhh! I can't. I'm so close to wetting myself."

      "Just give me a few seconds."

      With obvious reluctance, she partially straightened her body, but she kept her knees raised. I took hold of the zip and tried to slide it down, but again her bulging abdomen was impeding progress. It wouldn't budge, and I did my best to work it down while keeping my eyes on the road ahead.

      "Stop," Julia ordered as she bent over again, this time rocking back and forth on her seat, the handcuffs clinking against the frame of the seat as she involuntarily tried to raise her hands. "Oh God. It's starting to come out."

      "Hold it," I commanded, desperate not to let her give way now.

      "I can't!" she half-moaned, half-shouted, then in a softer, almost despairing voice, repeated, "I can't. Ohhh. Ohhh no. Nooo."

      "Jooles?"

      "I'm sorry," she said, her voice suddenly taut as if she were doing the last of a hundred press-ups. "I can't...hold...I'm wetting myself."

      I could just hear it. A muffled hiss was coming from between her legs. Again, she tugged futilely at the handcuffs, but all she could do was sit there and wet her knickers and jeans. She continued to shake and squirm, however, and after perhaps ten seconds she sat up, head back and eyes closed in that characteristic way she had. I looked down at her crotch and saw that she had indeed peed herself. There was a wet patch between her legs which had spread some of the way down her thighs, and up onto the tops of her legs. Clearly, she had not let it all go, and must still be holding the bulk of her pee.

      "Oh Jooles," I said in an awed whisper.

      Without opening her eyes, she said, "Enjoying yourself?" I felt relieved that it didn't sound sarcastic.

      "Yeah," I said, still whispering. "It's marvellous. You're marvellous.

      "Now don't go over the top." After a few moments, she added, "I'm still desperate to go."

      "I know."

      "Mmm, I'm sure you do," she said, opening her eyes at last and turning her head towards me. "Well, not that I've started to wet myself for your delight, I may as well have that other bottle of water."

      "Really?"

      "Oh yes. I might as well make the rest of the ride interesting for you."

      "That would be very nice," I said. It sounded lame but I meant it. "We're just coming up on our exist. I'll feed you the water once we get onto a quieter road."

      "Good idea."

      As I took us off the motorway and onto the A-road which would take us close to Canterbury, and then on to Wycliffe where my house was, I noticed Julia crossing her legs again and tapping her foot on the floor, making her knees bounce. This wiggling motion never failed to excite me, and I couldn't help but reach over and rub her upper thigh.

      "My knickers are soaked," she said. I wondered why she had chosen to comment on it now, and then realized that crossing her legs must have brought more of her skin into contact with her wet clothing, and it no doubt felt cold to the touch.

      "Good," I said, my voice light and cheerful. "Sounds like it's time for that second bottle of water."

      "Sadist," she said, and watched me struggling to unscrew the cap with one hand. I got it after a while and then raised the bottle to her lips. The maneuvre was not quite as simple as last time when I wasn't driving, but Julia managed to drink most of it, with only a little running from the corners of her mouth and down her front. She downed the entire contents in under a minute, then leaned back and laid her head on the headrest.

      "Okay, now don't dawdle or you'll have a serious flood all over your car seat and floor."

      "Gotcha,' I said.

      Rattling the chains of the handcuffs, Julia said, "You certainly have. Ohhh! Now go very fast."

      "Yes ma'am."

      I sped up until we were running at around fifteen miles over the speed limit, and then quickly slowed down again. Julia squirmed and asked, "What are you doing?"

      "It just occurred to me how awkward it would be if we got pulled over for speeding," I pointed out.

      "Oh God. You're right. Okay then, but for God's sake keep as close to the limit as you can. The bit of relief I got from peeing my jeans isn't going to last long after drinking that other bottle of water. There's still a hell of a lot more to come."

      Music to my ears. I did as she asked and tried to keep up a steady sixty outside of the low speed-limit zones, and after twenty minutes we were passing the outskirts of Canterbury. Wycliffe was about another fifteen miles, which probably equated to twenty or twenty five minutes on the smaller roads we'd now be using.

      Besides me, Julia was wiggling around incessantly, her breaths both noisy and ragged as she fought the incredible pressure stretching the walls of her bladder to bursting point. She was squirming so frantically that I didn't think she could possibly hold it until I got her home, but she was making a valiant effort, and I loved her for that.

      "Ohhh!" Julia gasped for about the twentieth time. "I really don't think I can hold it any longer Dave. I'm really straining at the leash."

      "You have to," I insisted.

      "What part of can't don't you understand?"

      "I understand it perfectly. You can't go."

      "Ohhh. Then for God's sake help me. Put your hand back between my legs."

      I was happy to oblige. I pressed against her crotch with the edge of my hand, pushing as hard as I could while driving. The wetness of her jeans made the experience even more pleasurably than before. She continued wiggling her legs by tapping her heels and banging her knees together. All this movement was transmitted to my pleasure centres through my contact with her thighs, and it was driving me wild. I already ached to ejaculate again.

      After what seems a short time to me, and I'm sure an eternity for Julia, we passed the sign demarcating the town limits of Wycliffe. "Oh no!" Julia yelled as we approached the end of the road leading to my house. I felt a surge of warm pee against my hand as she lost control.

      "Stop," I ordered her, and renewed my efforts to plug her up.

      "I can't."

      "Please. You have to wait Jooles."

      "How can I? My bladder is literally about to burst. It's never hurt so much before."

      I began rubbing her crotch vigorously, each stroke of my hand in time with her wiggling and bouncing. She was tugging at the bracelets once more, trying to yank her hands free, but of course she couldn't.

      The house came up on our right and I swung into the driveway. "Unlock me!" Julia shrieked. "I have to get out right away."

      I pulled on the handbrake and began rummaging in my jeans for the keys to the handcuffs. It wasn't easy with a bulging penis obstructing my pocket, but after a few seconds I managed to tug them free. "Hurry!" Julia shouted again, her knees raised almost to her chin in a last desperate bid to hold back the rest of the flood.

      I unlocked her right wrist and, even before I could lean over her to reach the left, she had her hand between her legs and pressing hard into her crotch. Leaning across her thighs, I could feel that her entire body was trembling. "Ohhh! Ohhh! Hurry up! You're squashing me, Dave. Oh, please hurry up!"

      I fumbled for some seconds to work the key into the lock because I couldn't actually see it. After wrestling with it for a bit, I realized I had inserted the wrong key and switched to its partner. Julia was quivering like a bow string, futilely trying to wiggle her legs while I was leaning on her thighs. "Oh no! It's too late," she squealed just as the second bracelet came free.

      She didn't waste a second in pushing open the door and tumbling out. The hissing sound from around her groin betrayed the fact that she was pissing herself again. She struggled to her feet, walked a couple of steps, and then stopped. Her shoulders sagged a little as she resigned herself to peeing herself again.

      She just went on standing there, and I watched the wet patch on the seat of her jeans darken as it renewed itself. The dark patch quickly grew and extended down her inner thighs to her knees where some of it broke through the material and splattered onto the concrete at her feet. The rest continued its journey down the inside of her jeans, drenching her calves and finally seeping into her shoes. I knew I would be buying her a new pair after this, but I didn't mind a bit. I would gladly have bought her an entire wardrobe for the pleasure of seeing her wet herself after hours of desperate struggling to hold on.

      I sat there watching her until she had released it all. Then, moving gingerly in her wet jeans and shoes, she turned and leaned in through the doorway. "Right, you. Sex. Now."

      I almost fell over my dick climbing out of the car.