Desperate in the car

When I travel, I’m pretty particular about where and how often I stop and I like to get to my destination as quickly as possible.  I’m a pretty good judge of my bathroom capabilities so this method has been successful for me so far, however, it also means at times that there is little margin for error if something unforeseen comes up.

Today I was driving across the state back home after a nice holiday weekend with friends.  I had two cups of coffee with breakfast, peed, and hit the road.   On an average day I was facing a 2.5 hour drive, one that I’d normally do without stopping – but knowing that coffee hits me pretty hard and fast I knew this trip would need a piss break at some point.  The first hour of the drive was smooth sailing.  There was a fair amount of traffic but no delays, and as I approached the first rest stop, I assessed my situation.  The coffee was definitely filling up my bladder as was the water I had been sipping on; I was uncomfortable but not yet urgent.  There was another rest stop about 30 miles down the road and that would put me over the halfway point and really, I’m a 26-year old guy, I could hold it more than an hour.  I decided to wait.

I passed the rest stop and proceeded into a mountainous area of the drive, still on the interstate though.  About 5 minutes after the rest stop, traffic came to a sudden halt.  The interstate became a parking lot and I could see lines and lines of cars and RV’s stopped ahead of me.  This was not as I had planned.  I thought that maybe it was a minor slow down and soon I’d be on my way, but as we inched along 5 minutes grew to 10, and then 25 minutes…and I’d only gone 3 miles.  At this point my bladder was rapidly filling up as I processed the last of the coffee through my system, and I was starting to become desperate.  What had started as a little fullness and pain when I clenched my muscles or pushed on my abdomen half an hour ago was now becoming a sharp fullness with every movement.  If traffic started moving again, I was only 20 minutes from the rest stop, still a doable scenario.

Another 20 minutes passed with very little movement, and I found myself unconsciously grabbing at my crotch “adjusting” every couple of minutes.  The sharp fullness had turned into a dull pain, and the waistband of my boxer briefs combined with the seat belt was making it difficult for me to find a position where my mind wasn’t solely focused on my bladder.  After 10 more minutes of driving less than 5 miles per hour, I started to consider backup options.  There were no exits in sight, and stopping on the side of the road wasn’t a possibility as I was surrounded by other vehicles.  The water bottle in the car was nowhere near big enough; and the advice that an old friend had given after an accident a few years ago rang through my head – “I always use the bathroom when I have a chance.”  I wish I had stopped at the first rest area but wishing wasn’t getting me any closer to relief.

Another 20 minutes went by and it was now over an hour since I had passed the previous rest stop, and half an hour after I should have had sweet relief at the next one.  Here I was, though, still 20 minutes away from the next toilet if traffic started moving that instant.  As the possibility of peeing my pants in my car started to become more and more real, I sheepishly considered grabbing a towel out of my suitcase and pissing into it.  I could discard of it at the rest area and nobody would be the wiser.  Anything to relief my aching bladder which was now in constant pain, with waves starting to hit.  Crap.  I knew that feeling, I was getting close to having an accident.  I started sweating and could feel my cheeks get red, embarrassed to be desperate even though nobody was in the car with me. 

Then, like my internal pleas to keep my car seat dry had been heard, traffic started moving.  It wasn’t full speed, but significantly faster than it had been.  I could still make it!  I stepped on the gas and as I adjusted my body in the seat, I dribbled.  Not a lot, but enough that I could feel the dampness in my boxer briefs and knew my body was telling me that I better find relief or it wouldn’t be my choice.  After another 5 minutes, I dribbled again and this time I could feel the pee on my abdomen and running down towards my balls before it was absorbed into my underwear.  I inspected my olive green cargo shorts and there was no wetness visible, and I was only 10 minutes away so I pressed forward knowing that I’d likely make it, but may need to change my underwear when I got there.

I drove a few more miles and I was hit by a sharp pain in my bladder, only it wasn’t just a sharp pain this — it was followed by a strong jet of piss that lasted about 2 seconds before I could get control again.  The smell of the urine that had just been released hit my nostrils, and I could feel that my underwear was getting pretty soaked although to be honest, I couldn’t tell what was sweat and what was pee.  I could see a quarter sized wet spot on the front of my shorts and based by how wet my underwear was in the area of my balls, I was afraid of what my butt would look like.  Another spurt like that and it would all be over, I needed to pee and I couldn’t hold it for 10 more miles.

I stuck one hand down my shorts grabbing myself, in an effort to prevent my shorts from getting too wet.  It was too later for the dark patterned boxer briefs, but I could maintain some dignity by not totally pissing my shorts.  I saw an exit for a forest service trailhead and knew it was now or never, so I pulled off and desperately drove down the gravel road looking for the parking lot and corresponding bathroom.  The road got bumpier and I knew this was it.  I stopped in the road, took a few steps until the the trees, pulled out my dick, and immediately started peeing…and peeing…and peeing.  A few cars drove by and they were probably wondering why this young guy was pissing fiercely on the side of the road when a bathroom was likely not far ahead.  I didn’t care, I had made it…almost.  When I got done, I inspected the damage, finding a baseball size stain right where the legs meet on my shorts where the pee had saturated my underwear while I was sitting in the car.  My boxer briefs were wet in the entire front of the crotch, and the last jet had run down soaking the left leg to my butt.  Seeing nowhere private to change, I pulled my pants up, got back in my car, and started driving the final hour home.

As I finished the trip, the pee-soaked underwear went through the stages of drying — from being warm and wet to cold and clammy, finally starting to dry out with a steady dampness and slight smell of pee in the air.  Luckily, my shorts dried even more quickly and by time I got home, there was no outwardly signs that I had nearly completely pissed my pants and had in fact, had a little accident while driving.  Lesson learned.

Has anybody else been desperate or had an accident in the car? 

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Responses

  1. Asomeone whoi has untrained his bladder to hold on I either have to use a bottle of wet myself – this fetish has turned me incontinent – not complaining but on the way to work or buisiness trips – l;ike you i try to use toliet stops wisely – at times i have been caught in traffic – used a bottle and overflowed it causing more mess than if i had just gone in my trousers – but as has been said before thank god for dark coloured trousers

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