Heavy Traffic and a Water Bottle

My boyfriend and I were driving back from Portland to Seattle. And I really had to pee.

He was driving. I'd been cavalierly drinking from a huge water bottle filled with iced tea. My bladder had been getting correspondingly fuller, of course, but I hadn't said anything as we sailed past the most recent rest stop. I could hold it till we reached Seattle. It was maybe half an hour now, was all. I was a tall guy and had a big enough bladder and all that. Hadn't pissed myself yet in life. Shouldn't be a problem.

Then, right as I was swigging the last of the tea from the bottle—and thinking it was a good thing I'd get to pee very soon, because my need was starting to get urgent—we hit the heavy traffic. We slowed to a complete stop, on I-5 in Tacoma. In the center of the five lanes.

"Um," I said. "Uh-oh."

"This happens." He sighed. "Tacoma is like this a lot."

I got out my phone and looked up the traffic map and felt a pang of dread—mostly in the region of my straining bladder. "Um," I repeated. The interstate was marked up with red and black—stop and go traffic for the next twenty miles. Estimated time to Seattle was now 85 minutes. "I cannot wait eighty-five minutes," I said, a bit panicky.

He glanced at me. "You have to pee or something?"

"Yes." I clenched my thighs together. "Like, really bad. Really seriously bad."

"Dude, you should've said."

"I didn't know the traffic was going to do this!"

"Well. Maybe it'll be faster than they think." But he sounded dubious.

I reached between my legs to pinch at the head of my cock, trying to discourage it from doing anything like leaking. "Yeah. Let's hope."

Fifteen minutes later it was clear the traffic was not getting better. We had inched along, barely scooting ahead a mile in all that time. I was dying.

I groaned, jamming both hands between my legs. "Oh my God, why."

He shot me a sympathetic smile. "I've had that happen to me before. That's why I wasn't drinking much on this drive. But hey, you've got that bottle if worst comes to worst, right?"

"Yes," I said, teeth clenched as if that was going to keep my bladder muscles clenched shut too. "But it's broad daylight." I glanced resentfully at the tall trucks idling in the lanes next to us.

"There's also a towel back there. You could cover your lap." His glance at me and my crotch was more avid now.

I looked at his crotch too and thought I spied a boner bulging out his sage-green pants.

"You just want me to take my dick out for you," I said. Might as well make it a teasing matter if we could. Less pathetic that way.

"Course I do." He smiled. Definitely arousal there.

It made my cock harden too, which didn't exactly bother me, since an erection might make it a little more difficult to accidentally piss myself. Which was becoming a serious and imminent threat. "Fuck I have to go so bad," I said, all in one breath. I was even breathing faster now from the herculean effort of holding my piss.

"I actually peed in my pants a little the time I got caught in traffic," he confessed. "Like, on purpose, to let some out and let the pressure off."

"Did it work?" I gasped.

"Kinda. I still had to go super bad. Mostly it just made my ass all wet and I had to sit in it till I got home." He grinned. "Can't believe I made it inside. I was like a fire hose when I got to the bathroom and whipped it out."

The mental image unfortunately had the effect that hearing running water would have had on me at that moment. The idea of being in fire-hose mode brought a sympathetic surge of pee out of my bladder, down the length of my stiff cock, and—oh no—out the tip. I hissed in a breath and squeezed the head of my dick tight, through my jeans, stopping the flow. "Shit, shit, shit. You're making me piss myself."

"All right. Bottle time. You've got no choice."

I didn't stop to argue or even answer. With my hands moving as fast as they possibly could, I grabbed the towel from the back seat, covered my lap with it, undid my jeans and shoved them down around my knees. My hard dick popped out, the tip wet with piss, pushing up the towel between my thighs. I grabbed the water bottle, pushed it under the towel, stuck my cock in it, and let go.

The torrent began. It sounded like turning on a faucet full blast, and I was so embarrassed I was blushing hot all over my body, but it also felt like absolute heaven.

"Uhhhh," I moaned as I pissed into the bottle. "Oh my God, this is better than sex."

He was breathing faster now, glancing frequently at me, at the expanse of towel in particular. Definitely a hard-on poking his pants up there. He adjusted it with one hand. "Not going to give me a peek?"

Still peeing with complete abandon, lost in the bliss of the relief, I clamped the bottle between my knees so I could free one hand, and lifted the towel a little bit on the side facing him so he could glimpse the scene underneath it: my dick, hard and wet with piss-spray, shooting its endless stream into the water bottle.

He started panting harder and gave his crotch a subtle rub again. "Shit. I could come watching that. Who knew."

"I could come doing this. Mmm, I had to go so bad. This feels amazing." I was somehow still pissing, though the water bottle was almost ninety percent full now. I chuckled breathlessly. "If I have any more I'm going to have to stop and save it for later. I'm going to overflow this thing."

"Don't put the towel down." He was panting and lifting his hips subtly in his seat, as if masturbating just by squeezing his thighs together. "I want to keep watching."

I was completely turned on now too. "Yeah?" I caressed my hard dick as the flow began to weaken at last. "I think I got a little more for you." I lifted my hips too, to push my dick up into view, and held my breath as I pissed the last strong gush into the bottle. It plinked and splashed and echoed. I stroked myself again, gathering up drops from the tip. "Mmm. Fuck, that feels good."

His eyelids fluttered shut for a moment and he jolted. His thighs clamped together. He gasped, breathed hard, and then blinked forward at the jammed freeway. "Okay. Shit. You just made me come in my pants."

"There's a little room in this bottle. Maybe I should add to it with something." I was jerking myself now, totally hot at the knowledge that he had just blown his wad inside his underwear—all from looking at my cock.

"Yeah, do that." He was breathing easier now, afterglow spreading pink through his face. A bashful smile sprawled on his lips.

He flicked glances aside at me as I subtly stroked my hard cock, squeezing firmer, moving faster, my balls tensing in need until—until—

"Ahhh," I grunted, and tried not to jolt too hard as my orgasm slammed me. The bottle of piss gained a few little audible splashes as my come squirted into it.

After milking myself empty, I slumped down, carefully screwed the lid back onto the water bottle, and did up my pants under the towel.

We grinned at each other.

"I kinda like heavy traffic," I remarked.

"Yeah, some days it's actually pretty good."