It was my Mother's fault really, poor Mum got the blame for many things, but I can honestly lay the blame for my phobia of public toilets on her. It wasn't a phobia as such, Mum had just made me so paranoid about the lack of hygiene in them that I found it next to impossible to use them in later life. It was alright for men, all they had to do was to fish it out, point it and pee, no need to touch anything really. Us poor ladies had to sit on the seat, well I know we could hover, then there were the taps, the dryer, the door handle, all of which just made me shudder. Take me to the Ritz, and I had actually been a couple of times, and I was fine. When it came to the average pub or restaurant I was panicking before we even set off from home.
So when my boyfriend/partner/fiancé (all he had to do was ask and the last one would be true!) suggested we went on a camping holiday in France I shuddered at the thought of not only public toilets with their smells and noises, but public showers as well!
"But you said you used to love the holidays you had with your parents when you went camping in the South of France?" he encouraged.
"That was before I knew better, anyway I did love the holidays, but I was never keen on the other bits."
"Well how about glamping?"
"Glamping? What's that?"
"Well it's glamour camping. Instead of a tent you have a proper building with walls, they can be all sorts of shapes and sizes, from huts to chalets, even old traveller type caravans, and more to the point, they have their own proper toilets and showers. Look." He produced his phone showing me some of the glamping sites, and I had to admit I was pretty impressed with the quality of some of the accommodation.
"That one looks nice," I found myself saying, and before I knew it we had booked, two weeks in the south of France in July. We had no kids, enough money to be able to enjoy such a holiday, and despite myself I began to look forward to it. There was something about getting up out of bed and in a few paces being outside.
This place looked ideal, it was a regular campsite, with pitches for the DIY camper, mobile homes and established tents, and, it said, a few glamping huts for the 'discerning camper'. I liked the idea of being a 'discerning camper' and I began to plan my wardrobe. Rob, my boyfriend said all he'd need was a posing pouch for the daytime, and a sparkly one for the evening, but he was joking, well I hoped he was joking.
None of this came cheap, we were driving down, and by the time we'd added on breakdown cover, motorway tolls, and fuel, Rob was joking that we'd be going to Benidorm next year. If he wasn't joking he could forget about me saying 'yes' when he finally popped the question. The only thing that worried me slightly was, where was I going to have a pee on the way down? We weren't going to stop overnight in a hotel, and I knew I was going to have to brave the motorway service areas.
Now even when I was a kid some of them were excellent, the bigger ones even had automatically flushing toilets, and wash basins and dryers that you didn't even have to touch, and that was a dozen or so years ago, so I was quietly talking myself into being relaxed about the whole thing.
So I steeled myself for a quick wee at the Eurotunnel building, because I knew that the one place you did not want to go was on the Shuttle itself, then we were through and bowling down the excellent French motorway system. We'd put one of those tag things in the windscreen which meant we could go through the automatic gates and we'd just get charged later and I was beginning to really enjoy the whole thing. Rob of course knew about my fastidiousness, and he showed me a good deal of tolerance, and every time he saw a sign for 'Services' he'd ask if I was OK. We did stop once at a big service area and they were fine, just as I'd hoped and imagined, clean and sparkling, just very crowded. We refuelled and set off again.
The problem was that although the air con was working fine, it was still quite hot with the sun streaming through the windscreen, and I was keeping well hydrated. We approached another big service area and I said I was OK, then about twenty minutes later regretted that decision as I realised I did need to pee.
We consulted the GPS and the next ones were going to be at least an hour away, so Rob said we'd stop at the next 'aire'. Now the 'aires' vary considerably, there are plenty of them, but some were pretty basic, just a parking area and some toilets, others had shops and a much grander aspect. Unfortunately the next one was a basic one.
We pulled in and parked and I looked with horror at the building enclosing the toilets, not only did it look a bit like a shed, but there were queues. He looked sympathetically at me, but I knew I was just going to have to go. He locked the car and we split up, I joined the queue and he went straight in to the gents. Well he was out minutes later and my queue had barely moved, and judging by the expression on the faces of people coming out, what was inside was not going to be good.
And so it proved, the minute I got to the doorway I knew I wouldn't be able to go, I turned on my heel and went back to the car where Rob was waiting patiently. "OK?" he asked, "Been?"
I shook my head, "I'm just going to have to do a nature wee," I told him. Strangely enough I had no problems peeing outdoors, it was hygiene that was the problem, not exposing myself to the elements.
He looked around and said, "Where?"
He was right, there was no cover, just some picnic benches. "By the benches," I replied, "you'll have to come with me as a look out and for cover." We got out of the car and he sat at one of the benches, I sat facing him, and looking straight at him as though we were having a conversation I wiggled down my shorts and panties, pulling them right off. I opened my legs and saw his eyes go wide as my pussy was exposed to him, then I focussed hard.
First came a dribble, then a squirt, then a flow and I could feel the pressure on my bladder easing. Rob's face was a picture, he'd seen me weeing before, we didn't make a habit of going to the bathroom together, but we would occasionally walk in on the other, and by and large it didn't bother us. But sitting demurely on the toilet and sitting here with my legs wide apart was a bit different, and judging by the way his hand went to his crotch and adjusted the bulge growing there, he was finding it a bit arousing.
I could hear my pee spattering down, and could see that he was staring at my pussy. Mischievously I decided to ham it up a bit and when my stream stopped I grabbed a couple of tissues and wiped myself, deliberately spreading my lips wide and giving him a really good look. I put my panties and shorts back on and we got up and walked back to the car, Rob walking awkwardly to try to hide the bulge in his shorts.
