"That dreaded moment has come Bron, I need a wee wee, we'll have to stop somewhere soon. Not desperado, but soonish OK?" queried Tina, gazing at the heavily wooded landscape either side of the E80 not long after the Gradina border crossing.
"It'll be the first tree we've...you've - had since we started Teen. Good going old gal OK we'll stop as soon as we find a suitable spot."
"Looks like there's a lay-by up ahead," replied Christina Kerridge-Reynolds, still, as always, pissed off by her buddies misuse of her name, but knowing there was nothing she could do to get Bron to change her ways. "There was a sign just back there, two K."
"It's a good job we decided to use the old road like this alongside the highway, the verges are easy on here, they're shit on the main busy roads," said Bron, overtaking a very slow, beat up, old farm vehicle pulling a trailer full of wood and a man perched up top. Enormous trucks of all nations roared past on the adjacent highway in both direction.
As the Ford overtook, Tina noticed how the man on top of the wood stared down into the smart foreign car and she was concerned she had chosen a loose knee length denim skirt which exposed more than half of her thighs. 'Oh dear what had he seen.'
Bron had picked out a skirt too, a loose, flowing, grey and red patterned cotton garment that hemmed mid calf, both ladies knowing that jeans and slacks could bind up too much in the hot weather aggravating their elderly crotches, whilst seated for long periods driving or not. The paper knickers tended to lose their initial stiffness early and mould to the private contours of their cunts.
Bron pulled the car in to a rest area, midway along it, totally deserted, thickly forested but with several likely suitable tracks inwards. She ignored a track far down the rest area and the three crude timber seats provided at intervals along the lay-by for rest were empty. What the ladies had found so far on the continent was the lack of litter compared to UK and in this remote area, it was just as clean. Tina eased out of the car taking a wadge of tissues and hurriedly walked round the vehicle scanning for the easiest and swiftest route, knowing her bladder pressure had built up in the short time since mentioning her wee need. Her buddy decided to relieve herself as well, so Bron followed Tina into the scrubby undergrowth.
It was soon obvious to the pair of them that this was a regular place for relief as the powerful odour of piss permeated the quiet wooded glade they found them selves in, which was littered with many discarded pieces of paper and tissues. Looking constantly around, they each found a spot to piss, back to a tree and reasonably devoid of rubbish -- but they were now desperate.
"Not the most salubrious toilet stop we've known Bron," giggled Tina, still anxiously checking their surroundings and feeling for the zip in her skirt. She pulled it down, then her skirt, put the now divided bunch of tissues in her mouth and squatted, glancing over at Bron, always the quickest, who was already swilling the forest floor with a powerful gush of hot urine. Bron, squatted, feet apart, knees together, holding up the bunch of skirt material away from the earth, in fear of it getting soaked, aware that flies and other insects buzzed around. Her other hand grasped a branch to help her squat. She couldn't get as low and unaided as her fit friend Tina.
Tina took the decision-- she had to, that was the reason she was there, to squat and piss, but unsure of the surrounds.
"Good job that farm truck veered off just after we passed it," she chuckled, spitting the tissue away and letting her bladder open. "Oh bugger!" she exclaimed, alerting Bron two feet to her right. She had to adjust her position as her twat had opened without her usual swipe through her thick, long labia which had diverted the flow onto her buttocks. Tina had decided not to take her usual precautions, because it was a private thing and maybe Bron would notice. While the fun loving, close friendship ladies were completely at home with ribald humour, toilet issues apart from Tina's weak bladder problems were things one kept to ones self.
* * * * *
"That was fun Cyril, old Fluffy's in good form yes?" chuckled Fin, patting Cyril's shoulder as they set off to where they parted to make their own way home from The Boot Inn.
"Not so old, I think she's what...early forties. Lovely lass, does all the work and the way she fusses round that dog, she really loves it," Cyril replied, referring to Randy the black Labrador which had had free roaming round the bar.
"He was living up to his name wasn't he...Randy, sniffing round ladies legs with his todger out heh heh." The two elderly men chuckled as they tottered a little more unsteadily than two hours before, along the rough dirt path.
"Yes, anyway back to my idea...you know the cleaners at my cottage?" Fin reminded his friend. "It would be very easy to set something, a small camera, in the changing room. You know we...well just me, insist they change into proper cleaning gear, never know where their own clothes have been Urghhh!" he shuddered.
"They have a spare room...plenty of those heh, to change every day. I mean there's lots of places, nooks and crannies we could hide a mini camera and see...their nooks and crannies eh" he burst into laughter, leaning forward and peering up at Cyril's face.
"What you think?"
Cyril had told Finley about other videos he watched where cameras were concealed in spa changing rooms, store changing rooms, beach cabins and private bedrooms. They agreed that Cyril would pop up to Fin's "cottage" - that's a modern house Cyril mused, ours is a cottage, he thought -- without commenting and vet the place and maybe they would embark on their own voyeurism adventure. They went separate ways.
* * * * *
Bron didn't query Tina's comments, surprised at how long her own pissing was taking plus the force of it and she was on edge. She had noticed a glimmer of something bright, moving, opposite, deep in the undergrowth, across the clearing. It was merely a twinkle of light -- must be some litter she thought, but it wasn't there when she squatted, but maybe she was too busy with her long skirt and Tina's caution. Anyway there's no one around, we would have heard.
"Bron?" murmured Tina quietly.
"What?"
"Tell me I'm daft but there's something in the bushes over there...I'm sure it moved."
Bron tensed her muscles, the urine had virtually ceased and she stood, hoisted up her paper knickers letting her skirt fall round her legs and carefully stepped over the puddle and stream she had created and marched three strides across the partly sun dappled glade. "You're not daft Teen, look what we've got here, a fucking peeper and with a camera." Bron declared, boldly reaching in amongst the ferns and grabbing a handful of black tee-shirt, which as she heaved, contained a slender, pasty spotted faced young chap who squeaked "Papa" as he was hauled out to where Tina, stood up, startled, struggling to get her skirt up over her ample hips. Against her better judgement, having seen and heard something else behind a furious Bron, she ignored the skirt zipper and dived into the ferns to find another man, older this time, unshaven, scruffy, fearfully crouching low.