Brandon's bladder throbbed, pressing heavily down between his legs. He clenched his muscles to strengthen his resistance as he gazed forward out the windshield. "Damn," he murmured. "I really drank a lot of water before we left."
"You really did." His boyfriend Andre sounded calmly amused. This pretense was all part of the exciting charade. "You're very well hydrated."
"Can we stop? I...no, never mind, it's okay." He squirmed, trying to find a position that would make his bulging bladder ache less.
Andre sent him a wicked glance. "Why? What's wrong?"
"Nothing. Only I..." Brandon felt the heat of a genuine blush in his face. He lowered his glance as if flustered (because the shyness was part of the game too), and pressed his thighs together. "I'd like to...to take a break, is all."
"Are you trying to tell me you need to pee?"
"A man would say he needed to 'piss'," Brandon returned, because he always had to include a little bit of attitude.
"Well. A man could hold it longer, then." Smiling, Andre continued driving the lovely coastline road.
"But...please, I...look, I've actually had to go ever since we set out an hour ago. I'm..." Blushing deeper, Brandon bit his lower lip a moment. "I'm kind of getting desperate," he said in almost a whisper. "I might...um..."
"Pee in your pants? I doubt it. You're a fine, strong grown man."
"Even a grown man will piss his pants if he doesn't have the chance to stop and piss outside them," Brandon pointed out.
"You'd better sit on that towel, then. Won't have you doing that to my seats, and I'm not stopping for at least another twenty minutes." Andre nodded toward the large green towel in the back seat.
"But - oh, fine." Brandon fetched it, folded it till it was a thick bundle large enough to cover the whole seat, and stuffed it under his rear. "Though if I completely lose control, I bet it'll soak directly through this."
"Then you'd better not. The towel's just for any little leaks that might happen. You'll have to wait to let out the rest."
"I - all right, I can wait. I'll try."
The asking permission and the denial of it were also part of the erotic thrill, and Brandon's cock was already hard. Not that this would keep back the accident that was inevitable any minute now, given how desperately he had to pee.
Indeed, barely another minute had passed before the urge swept down, overpowered his muscles, and pushed a few drops of pee all the way out of his cock. He inhaled swiftly and clutched himself, with both hands between his legs. There, he had stopped the flow. The drop had only wet his underwear. Andre didn't have to know.
"Move your hands," Andre said in suspicion.
Brandon lifted them to show his dry crotch. "See? It's fine."
Then the car hit a bump that jostled his bladder beyond help, and he had to grip his groin again in utter desperation. To no avail this time: oh God, he was pissing, only for a few seconds before he stopped again, but far more leaked out of him than it had the first time. He felt the wet warmth seep through the fabric of his pants, against his palms. The material was light tan and would show the stain easily. He kept his hands placed to hide the wet patch, mortified (yet aroused) that he hadn't been able to hold on longer. He tried to breathe normally while struggling to hold back the rest of his urine.
"Ah-ah," Andre chastised. "Hands away. Let me see."
"Having my hands here helps me hold it," Brandon tried - which wasn't a lie.
"Let me see. Hands on the sides of your seat and no moving them anymore. They stay there till I say so."
