You go home

"Eager to flee the store and reeking of urine, you declare, 'Time to get outta here! Don't fancy shopping around stinking of piss.'"

Amy nods in agreement, completing their purchases swiftly before making haste towards the parking lot where her vehicle awaits.

Upon arriving at the vehicle, Amy takes one glance at your urine-soaked leggings and declares firmly, "We're not letting those soaked things touch my seats!"

Realizing the logic behind her statement, you nod in agreement. Emptying the contents of one shopping bag into another, you slip off your dampened leggings and deposit them inside the now-empty container. "Alright, done!" you announce, climbing into the passenger side sans pants.

As you settle into your seat, Amy, still naked, takes her place behind the wheel. As you begin your journey home, the heavy flow of traffic catches your attention. Noticing the congestion ahead, you turn to Amy and express concern: "Are you sure you can navigate through all these cars?"

Undeterred by the prospect, Amy reassures you confidently, "Of course, I deal with this daily commute regularly. Yes, there's a sea of vehicles, but everyone drives steadily, making progress albeit gradually. One needs to exercise caution changing lanes, though."

Feeling immense relief wash over you knowing that you will be arriving home soon as you feel your bladder starting to fill back up. You believe this is likely due to you bladder being weakened after being stretched to it's limits. Furthermore, your kidneys remain hard at work diligently processing the copious amounts of fluids consumed during your morning jog.

Just as your thoughts turn inward, a gruesome sight materializes ahead: a colossal accident involving a large cargo truck blocking nearly three-quarters of the road, leaving but two narrow pathways for the sea of trapped motorists to navigate through. A sudden jolt of anxiety causes a lone droplet to slip past your defenses, dripping onto the passenger seat beside you. The mere thought of being stranded here for potentially hours fills you with dread, especially given the fragile state of your urinary control...

"Oh no," you groan miserably, clutching your groin area protectively.

"Well, looks like we're stuck for quite some time," Amy comments matter-of-factly.

The sight of the accident compounds your distress. "It's not just the delay... after drinking so much during our jog earlier today, nature calls again. And given my current predicament, I doubt I can last half an hour..."

Amy furrows her brow sympathetically. "Just hang tight, Riley. We might need to improvise if necessary."

Twenty minutes pass, filled with fidgety discomfort. Suddenly, a spurt of liquid shoots forth from your erect penis, splashing against the dashboard. Despite your best efforts, a steady stream follows suit, pooling around your thighs. Amy glances over, noting the expanding stain spreading across your lap.

"Hmm, seems like sealing that particular orifice proves challenging for you," she remarks dryly. Leaning closer, she commences gently stroking your shaft. "Clara mentioned that maintaining an erection helps prevent leaks."

You question her actions initially, but soon realize the effectiveness of her technique as your swelling organ ceases its relentless dripping. "Thanks, but what about my pussy? It feels ready to burst too..." No sooner do you finish speaking than a warm sensation spreads along your bottom, indicating another mishap.

The resulting hissing draws Amy's attention, prompting her to remark wryly, "Guess your pussy burst, huh?"

She gestures toward the rear compartment. "There should be something back there you could use. Go grab it while I stay put at the wheel in case traffic decides to move."

Squeezing past the front seats, you awkwardly position yourself in the cramped space between rows. Your exposed derrière faces both Amy and potential observers outside. As you reach for the requested item, Amy quips, "This is payback for pissing on my seat!" You feel a playful smack on your ass which shocks you bladder and causes a momentary loss of control. This time, a lengthy stream arcs out of your vagina, drenching Amy squarely in the face.

Regaining partial composure, you apologize profusely even as Amy wipes away the offending fluid. "Sorry, sorry! That was totally unintentional, but it is entirely your fault for smacking me!"

Amy shakes her head good-naturedly, chuckling despite herself. "Fair enough. Find something fast, please, before any more accidents occur."

With renewed urgency, you rummage through the storage space, **** to locate anything suitable for containing your overflow.

As you rummage through the rear compartment, you manage to find an old square plastic container capable of holding around half a liter. Not ideal for containing a floodgate such as yours, but **** times call for makeshift measures. With one hand clutching your vulva, you struggle to twist off the lid. Reluctantly, you let go of your pussy to use two hands. Immediately, a sudden spasm seizes your bladder and breaks the last bit of control you had. Piss begins spraying onto the upholstery beneath you. Panicked, you hastily bring yourself forward to sit on the edge of the seat so that at the very least your pussy is hanging over the edge and spraying the floor instead of the seat while you handle the container. Finally managing to pry open the container, you place it directly underneath just in time to catch most of the rest of the torrent.

"Oh, sweet relief," you breathe heavily, grateful yet embarrassed by the spectacle unfolding within the confines of Amy's vehicle.

Amy glances sympathetically into the rearview mirror. "Seems like you really needed that release."

A few moments later, however, the container nears its capacity limit. Clenching every muscle available, you attempt to stem the tide once more. Two final spurts escape before you successfully regain control, sealing the full vessel shut and placing it gingerly upon the floorboards.

"Amy, it's completely full...and I still need to go," you plead plaintively, hoping for any solution short of additional calamities.

"I think there might be an old soda bottle somewhere in here," Amy offers tentatively. "The opening will be quite narrow though, so you'll have to use your penis. And you'll need to lose the boner first..."

With trepidation, you locate the proffered beverage receptacle and await the subsidence of your erection. Once sufficiently flaccid, you carefully align your member with the tiny orifice. As urine begins to flow, your anxiety dissipates - initially. Soon you take notice of another stream coming simultaneously from your slit and drenching the floor anew. A startled yelp escapes your lips as you frantically clamp both openings shut.

"Did you end up soaking my floor even more?" Amy asks dryly, shaking her head in amusement.

Mortified, you apologize profusely: "Sorry, sorry! It seems controlling multiple streams isn't exactly second nature to me..."

"Well, since traffic is moving slower than molasses, I suppose I can spare a minute to help." She shifts the transmission into park and joins you in the cramped backseat space. "Let me see your pussy real quick."

Complying nervously, you withdraw your shielding hand. Amy deftly spreads your labia apart and applies firm pressure to your urethral opening using her middle finger. "I've got this covered; give it a shot now."

Your arousal intensifies somewhat due to her intimate touch, causing a slight stiffening of your cock which goes unremarked upon. Taking a deep breath, you begin releasing a slow trickle of urine from your engorged member. The technique proves effective thus far, directing all flow away from your vulva.

"Now focus on distinguishing between pissing from your dick versus your pussy," Amy instructs calmly. Concentrating intently, you work to close off your vaginal passageway while maintaining the steady dribble emanating from your penis. Feeling confident in your newfound skill, you signal for Amy to remove her finger. To your great relief, only a small amount that was already in your passage trickles forth. No further leakage ensues beyond the controlled stream issuing from your rod.

"Thanks again, Amy. I don't know how I can repay you..." You trail off sheepishly.

"You're welcome. How about cleaning my car spotless afterward?"

"Absolutely, it's the least I could do considering the mess I made today!"

Satisfied with your progress, Amy returns to the driver's seat. After finishing your business mere seconds shy of overflowing the bottle, you join her upfront once more.

"Woah, looks like you had an entire reservoir stored up!" she remarks incredulously.

"And not long after our previous stop either. Guess those jogger's drinks caught up with me sooner rather than later..."

Finally arriving at the sorority house, you haul the shopping bags inside amidst the eerie silence left behind by the absent residents. Thirsty despite recent events, you down a glass of water without fully realizing the potential consequences. Your mind then turns to deciding whether to prioritize personal hygiene via a refreshing shower or tackle the daunting task of scrubbing Amy's vehicle free of pee before stains and smells start to set in.