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Continuation! Do not interact with me or this tweet if you are not 18 or older.
Exhibitionism, extreme desperation, sexual undertones. https://twitter.com/AQUAPHILlA/status/1291936961842876416">https://twitter.com/AQUAPHILl...
Exhibitionism, extreme desperation, sexual undertones. https://twitter.com/AQUAPHILlA/status/1291936961842876416">https://twitter.com/AQUAPHILl...
...about the weight of her bladder bearing down on her throbbing piss hole. You wonder if she& #39;s aroused by this at all... You& #39;re certain she knows that you& #39;re turned on, after the way she looked at you when she begged. You feel TV-staticky, like you& #39;re in a dream.
You can feel dampness in your underwear and you know if you had thirty seconds alone you& #39;d cum almost immediately. & #39;What if she did this on purpose?& #39; Your brain interrupts. & #39;What if she picked up on your fetish somehow and avoided the bathroom intentionally?& #39;
A shiver runs down your spine. As enjoyable as watching her plight is, the thought of her doing it to seduce you is infinitely better. Her bladder must be decently big given how much it was bulging and how long she& #39;s lasted, how much she drank. Maybe she did have to go earlier.
As if emboldened by the mere concept of her playing games with you, you decide to simply ask her. "There& #39;s no way you didn& #39;t have to go at the last stop. We left, like, seven hours ago," you say, smacking her on the knee in gentle reprimand. She moans, loud.
"I didn& #39;t, I swear! It snuck up on me, I wasn& #39;t even thinking about it.... I just didn& #39;t have to go." She sniffles and pouts, but you catch the tiniest smile in the corner of her mouth. & #39;No way....& #39; your breath catches in your chest. She& #39;s toying with you.
Finally, the other friend in the back wakes up, grumbling. "Are we there yet?" He slurs, covering his eyes to block the sun. The driver tilts the rear view mirror down to look at him. "About ten minutes. But leaky back there might not make it that far."
Everyone laughs except her. She just gasps quietly and curls into herself, then looks up in a panic. "I leaked again, guess that was my cue or something. But I seriously am gonna piss all over your car, PLEASE let me out! It hurts!"
The driver shakes his head. "Fuckin& #39; where?! Look outside, it& #39;s just open farmland. No cover if a cop shows up and I am NOT getting arrested or put on the sex offender registry today. You& #39;re gonna hold it until we get there like a grown-up." She& #39;s in tears.
"I really, really, cannot do that," she sobs, and your friend in the back shifts away. "If you piss yourself it& #39;ll get all over me!" He realizes aloud. "Do we have anything she could put down? A towel or something?" You pass him your sweatshirt with a smirk. "This has—
"—sentimental value, so maybe that& #39;ll help her hold it in." It doesn& #39;t, but she doesn& #39;t know that. She snatches it and glares at you, not sure whether she should accept the risk or not, but decides it& #39;s better than getting pee on her friend and the car.
She lifts herself up to sit on the sweatshirt and you can see that the seat underneath her is visibly damp. For a second you& #39;re certain there& #39;s a string of wetness dripping down from her pussy, and the arousal crashes over you and makes you moan softly. Quickly, you stretch.
Hopefully nobody noticed that. Your desperate friend is bouncing again, and you swear you can hear the hissing of short, steady bursts every time she lands in her seat. "It hurts so BAD, please, please let me out! Stop the car! PLEASE!" She& #39;s nearly screaming now, still crying.
"I keep leaking, I can& #39;t stop it, there& #39;s literally nothing I can do—" she cuts herself off with a moan and shoves her hand into her shorts, opening her legs to do so. She& #39;s soaked. You can& #39;t tell if her hand is under her panties but she squirms and holds herself tightly.
The driver seems to understand that waiting is not an option and puts on his turn signal, moving onto the right shoulder and slowing to a stop. "Okay, I stopped the car, ten minutes away from home. Now what?" He demands, clearly irritated. "We don& #39;t have anything you can pee in."
The friend behind you opens his door and scrambles out. "I& #39;m not getting peed on," he says, laughing. You open your door as well and get in the back seat, reaching your arms out. "Come on, let& #39;s get out this way so you don& #39;t get hit by a car," you say as gently as you can manage.
She shakes her head. "If I move I& #39;m gonna piss myself. I& #39;m serious." She leans back to show you how hard she& #39;s holding herself, and the swell of her bladder catches your eye again. It& #39;s so unbearably full. Again, you feel possessed by the urge to reach out and touch it.
The driver is scrolling on his phone, pretending not to be angry, and a quick glance outside tells you that your other friend isn& #39;t paying attention. You turn back and lock eyes with her, then look down at her bladder, then back up. She sees the question in your gaze.
Slowly, she pulls her hand away. She& #39;s shaking with the effort of keeping back the flood of piss, but she looks up at you through eyelashes glistening with tears and nods, the most subtle of indicators. You lose the ability to process thoughts, and as if from outside your —
— body, you see yourself extend your hand and rest it on her abdomen. She screws her eyes shut and looks away, hands fidgeting at her sides. You press down, hard. She sobs. The hissing sound returns louder than before. Five seconds go by, and you& #39;re captivated, watching her —
— shorts darken as the wet spot spreads over her thighs. The pee runs in rivulets down her legs, getting caught in the fine hair, a few drops pattering onto the floor. The driver perks up and says, "Please tell me that wasn& #39;t pee." The spell breaks and you pull your hand away.
"Yep," you announce matter-of-factly, then turn to her and meet her eyes with a serious expression. "Stop," you say in a dangerously soft tone. Her eyes get wide and she shivers, but the flow cuts off. & #39;Good girl,& #39; you think, but all you say out loud is, "Come on."
You get out of the car and lean back in, and with one arm around her shoulders and the other pulling the sweatshirt along, you scoot her into the other rear seat, and then lift her onto her feet. Her hands are back in her crotch, and the friend outside is laughing as he watches.
"Holy shit, you weren& #39;t kidding! You& #39;re soaked!" She sniffles. "I& #39;m not even close to done yet." You nudge her. "You& #39;re gonna have to take those off," you remind her, and she wiggles. "I can& #39;t, what if there& #39;s a cop?" The driver leans over from his seat. "Don& #39;t risk it."
There will be a part three! This will feature the final release and a "happy" ending. 75 retweets on the first post of this thread for that.
