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The Perils of Putting Off Potty Breaks
🕑 Added 2023-07-28 23:00:02 +0000 UTC"Country roads, take me home…" "To the place I be- LONG!"
Laughter rang through the little car above the wzhizzz of the tires and the staticky crackle of the radio. "Hey, I never said I was a good singer," the woman in the passenger seat chuckled, her dark eyes merry as she glanced over at her husband behind the wheel. "It's just such a good tune for a road trip, you know?"
Corey just smiled and shrugged, not daring to take his eyes off the road before him for more than a moment. "Sure – absolutely! I'm guessing John Denver didn't have the wilds of Ontario in mind when he was writing it, but that doesn't really matter, huh?" "Nope," his wife Lisa agreed, and now she was glancing out her window in lively interest, her nearly empty red cup held to her lips. "Works for pretty much any road trip, in my book."
She upended the cup into her mouth, then lowered it with a happy little sigh. "Ah, that mocha was amazing, babe. Though I gotta say, it's also running through me pretty quick. I think we'd better pull over at the next exit, if it's not too much trouble?"
"Not a problem," he responded reflexively, reaching to turn off the radio that had dissolved into static – but then amended his statement a second later. "Well, I mean… I'll be happy to. Though exits out here aren't exactly super common, are they?" He gestured out the window at the vast expanse of green woodland enclosing the thin ribbon of asphalt that had become their singular link with civilization. "Honestly, there are probably more bears than people around here. But… hmm, I think that sign back there said something like 80 kilometers to Margo Lake. You should be able to wait until then, right? If we don't find something before then, that is…"
"Speak for yourself, baby," Lisa chuckled – a trifle uncomfortably, with a sidelong, pointed glance down at her husband's visibly puffy crotch. "You're not exactly an authority on holding it, are you?" Her hand slid over and patted knowingly at the bulky swell of his diaper. "I bet you're already soaked, aren't you? Hmm?"
"Umm… a bit?" Corey may have been the responsible adult driver, but the upward slide of his voice and the tiny blush that crept up his cheeks bore testimony to the way her touch and mocking words were propelling him into half-embarrassed Little space. "But- but you made me put one on this morning! An- and you didn't let me go back at that Tim Horton's-"
"Of course I didn't," Lisa giggled, shifting in place and shaking her head in mock dismay. "Cute little diaper boys-in-training don't need the potty, silly! Who ever expects a baby like you to waddle off to the bathroom – and on your own, too? It just makes so much more sense to keep my leaky little hubbie all safely padded up on long car rides." She leaned closer, her voice lowering into a confidential whisper. "Besides, baby – you know you like it. And I know it, too."
"Well…" Corey blushed and lasped into shyly smiling, embarrassed silence, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Damn, he loved this woman! She'd been the farthest thing imaginable from a kinkster when they'd first met. But somehow, little by little – and with every bit of his blushy secret that he had revealed – she had come not only to understand and accept, but to play along eagerly in his little games. And now, after six years of marriage…
Well, here they were: taking a lovely road trip together as Mommy-wife and Hubby-baby. Under his pants was a booster-stuffed MegaMax, while back in the trunk, hidden away in the innocent-looking luggage, were two more stacks of diapers. Boosters. Wipes. An oversized pacifier. A few onesies. And the most important thing of all for both of them: a lovely, vibrating magic wand.
What was not to love?
"Are we getting close?" Lisa asked after what to her had felt like a half-hour, but which somehow was in fact only twelve minutes. "I'm really needing to go pretty badly…" In response, Corey glanced over at the GPS screen, then the road, and then quickly over at his wife. "Um, kinda? It's still a good- hmm, let's see. It's 90 kilometers per hour here, so that means… hmm… over a half-hour to go, I think? At least. Oh, and it's Sunday, too, so it might take awhile to find something open…"
"Frick," she breathed, shifting once more and crossing her long legs in ill-concealed urgency. "That's- well, that's pretty far-"
Corey grinned, a devious smile creeping over his unshaven face as he adopted the lilting tone she so often used on him. "Oh, what's the matter? Is this great big girl having trouble holding it? Does she need to go pee-pee?" He chortled as she glared back at him, his smile broadening with playful mirth. "Does my wittle Wisa need to take a tinkle? Aww, is she gonna made a puddle in her panties?"
She let out a snort that came perilously close to a moan. "No-o! I just- Hey, you're the one in the freaking diaper, mister!" "Exactly," he smiled, leaning further into his new teasing role. "I know better than to think I can handle big kid pants. Such a shame we didn't put you in a diaper too, huh? You know, to keep that seat dry in case of any piddly little accidents?"
And so it began: one of the most intense teasing sessions they'd yet had. "Hey, cut that out! I- I'm not gonna pee myself!" "Hah. She said, sitting there crossing her legs and doing the potty dance the entire time." "Look: just focus on driving, okay?" "Sure thing… little girl." "Am not!" "Are too." "Am not!" "Are too. And when you pee your pants everyone's gonna know exactly what a little pee-pee princess you are!" "No-o! Corey!" "What? I'm not the one about make a mess everywhere…"
Finally, Lisa had had enough. "Corey, I'm sorry. But for real – pull over right now! There's no one around to see, and I- I really can't wait any longer-"
As the little car slowed and drifted onto the shoulder, Corey was still grinning silently. "Okay, then, little girl," he teased, switching off the ignition and glancing back into the empty rearview mirror. "Go on. Go make a tinkle in the woods, honey!"
"No." Her words were clipped, her voice hoarse with urgency. "No, you come out, too. Now!"
He wasn't exactly sure why, of course. But if the past six years had taught him anything, it was that when Lisa's voice sounded like that, the only thing to do was obey. And so he stepped from the car and made his way around to where she was frantically scrabbling through her purse. "Ah, thank god!" she breathed, frantically fumbling a bubble-gum pink, rubbery funnel from its depths. "Now, honey, please- can you squat down here? So no one sees…"
Obligingly, he squatted, tiny bits of gravel crunching under his feet as he did so. A clank of a belt buckle sounded behind him, and the sssshh of denim being tugged frantically down, and then…
The strangest sensation: of his own elastic-waisted shorts being tugged open. Of a rush of cool air against the skin of his lower back and buttocks. And a sudden, sharp thrust of something thin… tubular… rubbery…
A thin, echoing hiss reached his ears. "Ahhh…" Lisa breathed in wordless relief. And with a sudden jerk and shudder, he realized what was happening – even as the first hot trickles of his wife's urine began streaming down into the already moist depths of his own diaper.
How long they stood there – two ordinary people in the midst of the Canadian woods, pressed strangely close to one another beside their little car – he had no idea. All he knew was that with every second that dragged by, the wet heat flooded further into his thickening pants. Lisa's hands were clenched on his shoulders, and over the hissing of her streaming urine he could hear her sighs of ardent relief verging into shaky, condescending giggles. And when at last she stepped back, retracting the funnel and quickly tugging her own panties and jeans back into place, he hardly knew what to do.
Except to straighten sheepishly up. Turn around with flaming cheeks. And open his mouth to protest… even as she giggled and laid a firm finger on his lips.
"What were you saying about me not being an adult? Seems like there's only one person here with puddles in their pants, honey!" She leaned in and planted a kiss full on his parted lips, then gave a knowing pat to his heavily sagging crotch. "Now then – let's get moving, shall we? We've got a long way to go, after all. And honestly…"
"…Well, I'm not sure how much more than poor diaper can take!"
Comments
Paul Bennett
That was hot af. Who knew that using a 'she-wee' on the side of a highway could make babies boush and squirm like that.
