Chapter 1

I had an adventure on Saturday. I had offered to drive a friend to Brussels to catch the Eurostar to UK, as train service from here where we live is disrupted halfway due to floods. It would have meant some buses and diverted local trains and would have taken 6 or 7 hours for a two hour journey.

One of her friends offered to come along to keep me company, and to see a bit of Brussels.

It rained a little on the way, and I discovered/re-remembered that while motorway service stations have toilets, these are quite far apart. There are picnic/rest stops along the way that are more frequent, but they have NO TOILETS.

As we approached a picnic area, friend’s friend (FF) asked if we could make a pit stop. The sign indicated picnic tables, no toilets, so I asked her if she could wait. She couldn’t. We stopped, and off she ran to find the nonexistent toilet. When she saw people coming back from behind bushes, she nearly turned back, but needs must, so she too went behind a bush.

In her rush, she did not take anything. I always have tissues and wet wipes in the car, so I got them and went to give them to her. There she was, her jeans down to her knees, her thong pulled to one side, as I approached from the back. I called out that I was bringing her supplies. She was startled, but not enough to stop, and I had a lovely view of a backside as nice as any I have seen.

After she finished and cleaned up, she pulled her clothes together. That’s when I told her, “What a lovely view.” She blushed like mad.

We made it to the station in good time, saw my friend off, then I offered FF to go into a nearby shopping area to eat. Parked the car and walked down the streets, just browsing and talking. Stopped for lunch, then walked some more until she saw a clothes shop with a lovely window. She asked if I wouldn’t mind if she went in. I went with her, and she picked out a very nice mid-thigh skirt and a white blouse. She bought them, and I asked her to leave them on. She asked me why, and I said, with a wink, “First, they look good on you, second, easier to hike up a skirt than to pull down jeans when you have to squat to pee.”

She blushed again but kept them on. We started to head back, and carried on talking. As we neared a service station, I asked if she wanted a pit stop and she said no. A few km down the road, she started to fidget a bit and said she needed to go.

I pulled into the next picnic area, and told her to run, and I would bring her the supplies. When I got there, she had finished, and was still squatting, her back to me. She had dropped the back of her skirt to cover her bum. I gave her the paper, and as she cleaned up, I said, “What a pity, the view at this stop is not as pretty.” She turned her head, looked at me, blushed, and turned her head forward again. I chanced it, telling her, “Show me.” She looked at me again, blushed redder, and slowly raised the back of her skirt to uncover herself.

I waited a good few seconds, maybe even half a minute, then said, “Thank you. Very nice. Shall we go?” I helped her up, and we returned to the car hand in hand.

In the car, as we drove, I asked her how she felt about my asking her to expose herself to me. She said, “It felt ever so naughty, showing myself in public, and you were so naughty making me be naughty.” I told her I made her do nothing, it was a polite request, and she replied, “Yes, but the way you said it, I felt I HAD to do it.”

I asked her if obeying me did anything to her. She hid her face in her hands. A quick look showed me she was very red again, perhaps more than before. I said, “Tell me.” She hemmed and hawed then said, whispered actually, “It made me wet, down there.” I told her to show me.