Saturday, February 27, 2010
Story: Catching The Last Train
LICENSING.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License:
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
* * *
CATCHING THE LAST TRAIN
By googlism2008
* * *
Despite his busy work schedule, Keith decided to take time off to attend his best friend’s graduation ceremony. It was a very hot and sweaty morning, and the ceremony was held in an open space in the university grounds with the guests all seated under the sun, but seeing George proudly going on stage and collecting his degree scroll was definitely worth it. After all, George also had to persuade his boss to allow him some time off his newly-landed job to attend Keith’s ceremony two barely two days earlier. Right after George’s ceremony, the duo together with some friends piled into a bar to celebrate their hard-earned degrees. While Keith managed to get a pretty average overall grade point, George managed to score distinctions for almost all his courses, and he had been head-hunted by several companies even before he formally graduated despite the gloomy economic climate. Keith thought to himself, “If only I had half of his intellect and yet so sociable!” Nevertheless, he was very happy to see his best friend having such a remarkable achievement.
The lunch at the bar was followed by a few beers. Having sweated loads, Keith was feeling really thirsty and had downed more than his usual amount. Hours quickly flew at the bar, and it was time to leave. They parted their ways, and Keith and George agreed to meet again during the weekend. Keith had a good stomach for beer and never ever seemed to get drunk, but he had another problem: once he has broken his seal in the bar, he needed to go very regularly for quite a few hours. Luckily, this city maintains lots of public facilities, and Keith had to use every one of them along the way back home. Otherwise, Keith had a really good bladder. Upon reaching home, Keith dumped his smelly and sticky clothes into the wash basket and took a much needed shower. After a short rest, he decided that he was sober enough to go back to his workplace, and work till the late evening to make up for lost time. He packed a sandwich dinner, threw on a t-shirt and put on his newest pair of jeans and his newest belt, and headed out to the train station which was just a short flight of stairs below his apartment.
* * *
“Ahhh…” Keith had a very satisfying pee at the urinal. He stuffed his member into his tight briefs, and held in his stomach slightly to zip up his low-waist crotch-tight skinny jeans. He fumbled with his new belt, and thought, “How do I actually buckle this belt?” Even though cotton belts with no belt holes have existed in the market for several years, he had never worn one until today. He found that earlier attempts to merely push the vertical metal bar in were futile; the buckle simply loosened by itself in no time. Suddenly he had an idea: he pushed the bar in, and pulled the belt hard, and – nope, the buckle is tight, but the belt sat too loose. He tried again: he pulled the belt tight in the waist, pushed the bar in, and pulled the belt really hard in the opposite direction – perfect. After washing his hands, he admired himself at a full-length mirror near the toilet entrance: a skin-tight white t-shirt that was a tad too short to be tucked in, with a pair of faded light blue non-stretchable skin-tight jeans that showed absolutely no wrinkles in both the thighs and the lower legs, flaunting his beautiful body, butts and all. While he doesn’t work out in the gym, he regularly jogged and exercised, and he had the kind of lean body everybody else wished to have. Satisfied with his looks, he refilled his large water bottle from the water cooler and went back to work.
It was 8:30 pm and there was absolutely nobody else in the office. Keith pulled out the next scheduling task from the heap of bus routes that were assigned to him. While this job did not demand fixed working hours, his temporary work contract demanded that he finish every single scheduling task that was assigned to him, otherwise he will be docked one day’s pay for each unfinished task. Keith had applied for this temporary job while waiting for better job opportunities to open up, thinking that scheduling bus routes should be easy money, but it turned up to be really difficult given the large number of operational constraints imposed by the bus company itself, the work unions, as well as the Ministry of Transport. In fact, the Ministry of Transport demands that the bus company review its bus schedules every half-yearly, and this is when the bus company hires a number of temporary workers to tweak the bus schedules of the nearly two hundred bus routes to the satisfaction of the Ministry. As there are separate schedules for weekday, Saturdays, and Sundays, and also schedules for special occasions such as graduation ceremonies and concerts which draw huge one-time crowds, the different combinations of these caused the actual number of different scheduling tasks to be a multiple of the number of bus routes operated by the company. Unfortunately, regular changes to the bus fleet, union agreements, and Ministry regulations meant that little of the bus schedules planned six months ago can be reused, so everybody simply planned the bus schedules from scratch. And then, there is the really tight deadline imposed by the Ministry for the review to be completed, which is exactly why he needed to do work overtime whenever he took time off from this work.
Keith started to concentrate hard to perform the scheduling task on hand. He soon realized that this route is really long and is a bitch to schedule, so he needed even more concentration power. As always, intense concentration always makes his body feel hot, so he started to drink from his water bottle. Drinking lots of water, especially during tasks that required a lot of brain power, is one of Keith’s peculiar habits. By now his need to pee every fifteen minutes or so has disappeared, but the huge outflow of water caused him to be dehydrated and nursing a mild headache. His solution is to drink more water to hydrate himself for curing his headache. Just that this time, his headache never really went away despite all the fluid intake, and he found his concentration faltering from time to time. Half an hour later, he suddenly realized that he made a mistake: he focused too much on the service standards and the mandatory crew rest times, and have neglected the maximum number of work hours the crew can put in. He had planned the schedule way too far to simply correct the error and continue, and said to himself, “Heck, scratch it.” Keith then reluctantly decided to pop a second painkiller pill. He refilled his empty bottle, and then gulped several mouthfuls of water into an already bloated stomach to get the pill down and to wash away its taste from his mouth. He sat down to restart this scheduling task, and immediately had a very mild but familiar sensation down there. He thought, “So fast?” Instinctively, he crossed his right leg over his left leg, and he was comfortable again.
The headache soon subsided and Keith was again able to make good progress on his scheduling task, with his other need hardly bugging him. He carefully entered the complete schedule into the computer, and sighed a breath of relief as his computer shuts down. He looked at his watch: 10:57 pm. “Shit, the last bus to the connecting train to the last train leaves in three minutes!” He stood up from his double-crossed legs and picked up his bag. “Good riddance I am on the first floor and the bus stop is just outside the building, but I better get there fast.” He cast a longing look at the Gents sign on the door as he walked by it, and then briskly walked out through the entrance and saw an empty bus parked at the bus stop. Feeling slightly thirsty again, Keith asked the bus driver to wait for a minute as he bought a bottle of isotonic drink from the vending machine, and then the bus promptly departed after he boarded this bus.
Keith’s bladder was feeling pretty full, but he is very confident of being able to making the twenty minute journey to the train station, where public toilets will be available. He had drunk a lot of plain water at work and it would be good to restore the sodium lost from his body, so he simply finished his isotonic drink in no time. As he finished the ice-cold drink, he felt another mild urge. However, the bus seats do not give enough legroom for him to cross his legs, so he can only squeeze his legs together, and endure a fairly uncomfortable trip as the bus rumbled slowly on. Although his job scope is to produce bus schedules, he resented the fact that Ministry regulations and union agreements forced the bus company to schedule the buses to run at such speeds. In fact, there is a direct bus route from his workplace to his home, but this route is extremely circuitous and requires almost ninety minutes of travelling time. Besides, he always preferred to have the option to have a mid-route toilet break.
The bus arrived on-time at the train station. Keith alighted from the bus, and threw his isotonic drink bottle into the trash bin. He knew the layout of this train station very well, so he knew the shortest route to the toilets without having to ask passers-by. He rounded the corner and started to mentally prepare for a release, and then “Wham!” “Ouch!” He pushed the door again, but it won’t bulge. Then he saw a small sign below the large Gents sign that reads, 7:00 am – 11:00 pm. Suddenly a wave of panic went over Keith, as he faced the prospect of having to hold it all the way home. He regretted drinking so much water without paying attention to the time, and he regretted drinking the isotonic drink on the bus. As the panic subsided, he strolled through the turnstiles, and slowly paced up and down the platform while waiting for the connecting train to come.
It was train jam-packed with people returning from the shopping district as the shops start to shutter up its doors, and Keith was getting desperate with a bladder that was rapidly filling up. He could not really stand still; his sphincter muscles are working really hard. He tried to discretely grab his member by putting one hand into his pocket, but his very tight pants meant that it only added pressure to his swollen bladder, and he quickly jerked his hand out. He was sweating beads in the cool and pleasant weather. And he began to fear that he would not be able to make it home dry. “No! Unlike some of my mates, I have never wet my pants in all these drinking sessions, and I will not wet myself here. I have survived three-hour final exams without going to the toilet, and I will survive today.” Suddenly a scary memory hit him. There was this two-and-a-half hour exam he nearly did not make it. He had a quick lunch with a large cup of strong coffee to keep himself awake, and entered the classroom with his large bottle of plain water without peeing because he peed before lunch. The exam questions were extremely tedious and he feared that if he asked for a toilet break, he would lose his concentration and not finish the paper. He ended up absolutely desperate while the exam scripts were collected, and when he finally ran to the toilets, he struggled for a very long time to open his button flies in front the urinal. He made it, but not before he squirted once into his underwear just before the buttons came free. Fortunately, the damage was confined largely in his underwear and did not show on his black Levis, but it left an unforgettable shock as he never remembered letting out any pee in his pants since the age of five. Since then, he resolved never to wear button fly jeans, and he always peed before taking an exam. He assured himself, the jeans he wearing now is zipper fly, so there should be no problems when he finally reached the toilet.
What seemed like an eternity was only ten minutes, and the train started to slow down at the connecting station. Now Keith had a bigger challenge: he only has two minutes or so to catch the last train in the underground platform. He cursed at the unnecessarily early last train. Normally he is a good runner, and he had always successfully sprinted through the escalators to catch the last train, but he has never sprinted before with such a full bladder. He muttered to himself, “I can do it.” With that, he clenched his sphincter muscles as tightly as he could, and immediately dashed out as the train doors opened. As he ran, his tight jeans were alternating between compressing his overfull bladder on the left side and the right side, and the urge become almost intolerable. He jammed his left hand into his crotch as he ran, which made his sprinting awkward; and he used his other hand pushing slow moving people aside at the same time, he simply did not care. As he went down the escalators, he thought he saw people casually entering an open toilet. Oh, the tortures… He did it – the train doors closed behind him just as he stepped into the train, and he sank down into a seat of the empty train panting heavily.
Suddenly Keith felt a sense of wetness at the tip of his member, and he was frightened: “Is it sweat… or am I… starting to… wet myself?” This triggered another huge wave, which Keith instinctively sat up and crossed his legs, only to find that the waist and crotch of his jeans was putting too much pressure; he immediately uncrossed his legs and jammed both hands into his crotch, squeezing his legs tightly. The wave subsided, and nothing seemed to have escaped. He looked down, he saw nothing. “Phew…” To ease the constant pressure, he slouched slightly. He was getting more and more desperate, but sitting with his legs tightly closed together is quite a bit more comfortable than standing up. He looked around; luckily his train car and the adjacent two cars were totally empty. He placed one hand on top of his crotch, and he could massage his member whenever the urges came without the embarrassment of onlookers. However, it didn’t help that the cool air was freely rushing through in the empty train cars, making Keith feeling cold as the sweat from his sprint started to evaporate. He checked his crotch – nothing was visible. But his fingers felt… a bit damp. He lifted his finger and sniffed at it, and there was the familiar smell – oh horrors of horrors – it is pee!
The train emerged from the long tunnel into the dark blue night sky, signifying that the train is approaching the terminal station. Keith was constantly shifting himself in his seat, his legs constantly jiggling. His heart was racing, ah… the toilet at home! But first he has to stand up. He tried to, but the urge was too great. A second time, and he could not do it. What is he to do? He has to stand up or pee himself sitting there. No! Finally, he took a deep breath, both hands squeezed his member hard, sphincter muscles working hard, and stood up in one motion. The urge was overwhelming, and he felt a small amount of urine escape, he clamped it hard, and after a few seconds it subsided a bit. He looked down and saw a one-inch wet spot on the bottom of his crotch. Going out of the train into the platform, he could not walk straight, and pushing through the turnstiles seemed like a major obstacle course.
The last obstacle before his home was the flight of stairs of only twenty steps, but it was an excruciating climb as his very tight skinny jeans was pressing on his bladder during each step, so he had to stop after each step, bending slightly forwards, grabbing the railing in one hand and grabbing his member in the other. Luckily, it was already past midnight, so nobody was there to see Keith’s predicament. With superhuman powers, Keith finally managed to overcome the stairs and arrived at his home, which was so conveniently located on the first floor. With the toilet getting nearer and nearer, the signal beckoning for the bladder’s release became stronger and stronger. Keith struggled to unlock his door with one hand jammed into his crotch. As the door opened, the urgency increased many fold, and he kicked off his shoes and he made a beeline to the toilet without bothering to close the door.
“Woo, I made it just in time, and I’ll just unzip, and – no!” The new belt, which was made even tighter from the bulging bladder, just won’t seem to release. Suddenly a huge wave came, his sphincter muscles momentarily gave way; both his hands flew down and managed to stem the flow after two seconds. “Oh no, not here!” Keith exclaimed, just as he witnessed his wet spot increasing in size. In his panic, he tried yanking his belt outwards, but it only made the vertical metal bar jam more tightly in the fabric of the belt. Another massive wave came, and he felt two strong spurts, and then the wetness moving further down his legs. Keith was cursing and swearing, and made another feeble attempt at loosing the vertical bar, but it won’t bulge. An even larger massive wave causing several spurts came, and this time the wave took a very long time to subside. He is now at a stage where he could not quite remove his hands away from his member. To free his hand, he tried to cross his right leg over his left, but the tight belt and tight crotch of his jeans merely pressed against his overfull bladder, causing yet another spurt. Soon Keith found himself making large frequent releases, and despite that the waves only got bigger and more frequent, and his skin-tight jeans was now soaked to the knees. Not being able to free his belt, the pulsating waves finally merged into one single unstoppable enormous pressure, and Keith’s much weakened sphincter muscles totally gave way. He gave up and slowly let his hands go, and the powerful jet shot a stream of pee out from the saturated crotch of his jeans. The faded light blue skinny jeans became dark blue, and a huge pool formed on the toilet floor as he peed for a full minute. Keith had totally pissed himself in the toilet, in front of the toilet bowl.
It was an indescribable feeling of simultaneous shock and bliss. Humiliated, Keith leaned into the wall and slowly got back to his senses. The accident is real, and not a bad dream. Now he needs to change out of his sopping wet jeans, but how? As he was contemplating a solution to this problem, he absent-mindedly tugged the loose end of his belt in the direction of tightening it. To his bewilderment, he felt his belt come loose, with the vertical metal bar becoming unstuck. However, it was already too late to prevent the damage. Still, the major consolation Keith had was that he had the apartment all to his own, saving himself from further embarrassment.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 3.0 License:
http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-sa/3.0/
* * *
CATCHING THE LAST TRAIN
By googlism2008
* * *
Despite his busy work schedule, Keith decided to take time off to attend his best friend’s graduation ceremony. It was a very hot and sweaty morning, and the ceremony was held in an open space in the university grounds with the guests all seated under the sun, but seeing George proudly going on stage and collecting his degree scroll was definitely worth it. After all, George also had to persuade his boss to allow him some time off his newly-landed job to attend Keith’s ceremony two barely two days earlier. Right after George’s ceremony, the duo together with some friends piled into a bar to celebrate their hard-earned degrees. While Keith managed to get a pretty average overall grade point, George managed to score distinctions for almost all his courses, and he had been head-hunted by several companies even before he formally graduated despite the gloomy economic climate. Keith thought to himself, “If only I had half of his intellect and yet so sociable!” Nevertheless, he was very happy to see his best friend having such a remarkable achievement.
The lunch at the bar was followed by a few beers. Having sweated loads, Keith was feeling really thirsty and had downed more than his usual amount. Hours quickly flew at the bar, and it was time to leave. They parted their ways, and Keith and George agreed to meet again during the weekend. Keith had a good stomach for beer and never ever seemed to get drunk, but he had another problem: once he has broken his seal in the bar, he needed to go very regularly for quite a few hours. Luckily, this city maintains lots of public facilities, and Keith had to use every one of them along the way back home. Otherwise, Keith had a really good bladder. Upon reaching home, Keith dumped his smelly and sticky clothes into the wash basket and took a much needed shower. After a short rest, he decided that he was sober enough to go back to his workplace, and work till the late evening to make up for lost time. He packed a sandwich dinner, threw on a t-shirt and put on his newest pair of jeans and his newest belt, and headed out to the train station which was just a short flight of stairs below his apartment.
* * *
“Ahhh…” Keith had a very satisfying pee at the urinal. He stuffed his member into his tight briefs, and held in his stomach slightly to zip up his low-waist crotch-tight skinny jeans. He fumbled with his new belt, and thought, “How do I actually buckle this belt?” Even though cotton belts with no belt holes have existed in the market for several years, he had never worn one until today. He found that earlier attempts to merely push the vertical metal bar in were futile; the buckle simply loosened by itself in no time. Suddenly he had an idea: he pushed the bar in, and pulled the belt hard, and – nope, the buckle is tight, but the belt sat too loose. He tried again: he pulled the belt tight in the waist, pushed the bar in, and pulled the belt really hard in the opposite direction – perfect. After washing his hands, he admired himself at a full-length mirror near the toilet entrance: a skin-tight white t-shirt that was a tad too short to be tucked in, with a pair of faded light blue non-stretchable skin-tight jeans that showed absolutely no wrinkles in both the thighs and the lower legs, flaunting his beautiful body, butts and all. While he doesn’t work out in the gym, he regularly jogged and exercised, and he had the kind of lean body everybody else wished to have. Satisfied with his looks, he refilled his large water bottle from the water cooler and went back to work.
It was 8:30 pm and there was absolutely nobody else in the office. Keith pulled out the next scheduling task from the heap of bus routes that were assigned to him. While this job did not demand fixed working hours, his temporary work contract demanded that he finish every single scheduling task that was assigned to him, otherwise he will be docked one day’s pay for each unfinished task. Keith had applied for this temporary job while waiting for better job opportunities to open up, thinking that scheduling bus routes should be easy money, but it turned up to be really difficult given the large number of operational constraints imposed by the bus company itself, the work unions, as well as the Ministry of Transport. In fact, the Ministry of Transport demands that the bus company review its bus schedules every half-yearly, and this is when the bus company hires a number of temporary workers to tweak the bus schedules of the nearly two hundred bus routes to the satisfaction of the Ministry. As there are separate schedules for weekday, Saturdays, and Sundays, and also schedules for special occasions such as graduation ceremonies and concerts which draw huge one-time crowds, the different combinations of these caused the actual number of different scheduling tasks to be a multiple of the number of bus routes operated by the company. Unfortunately, regular changes to the bus fleet, union agreements, and Ministry regulations meant that little of the bus schedules planned six months ago can be reused, so everybody simply planned the bus schedules from scratch. And then, there is the really tight deadline imposed by the Ministry for the review to be completed, which is exactly why he needed to do work overtime whenever he took time off from this work.
Keith started to concentrate hard to perform the scheduling task on hand. He soon realized that this route is really long and is a bitch to schedule, so he needed even more concentration power. As always, intense concentration always makes his body feel hot, so he started to drink from his water bottle. Drinking lots of water, especially during tasks that required a lot of brain power, is one of Keith’s peculiar habits. By now his need to pee every fifteen minutes or so has disappeared, but the huge outflow of water caused him to be dehydrated and nursing a mild headache. His solution is to drink more water to hydrate himself for curing his headache. Just that this time, his headache never really went away despite all the fluid intake, and he found his concentration faltering from time to time. Half an hour later, he suddenly realized that he made a mistake: he focused too much on the service standards and the mandatory crew rest times, and have neglected the maximum number of work hours the crew can put in. He had planned the schedule way too far to simply correct the error and continue, and said to himself, “Heck, scratch it.” Keith then reluctantly decided to pop a second painkiller pill. He refilled his empty bottle, and then gulped several mouthfuls of water into an already bloated stomach to get the pill down and to wash away its taste from his mouth. He sat down to restart this scheduling task, and immediately had a very mild but familiar sensation down there. He thought, “So fast?” Instinctively, he crossed his right leg over his left leg, and he was comfortable again.
The headache soon subsided and Keith was again able to make good progress on his scheduling task, with his other need hardly bugging him. He carefully entered the complete schedule into the computer, and sighed a breath of relief as his computer shuts down. He looked at his watch: 10:57 pm. “Shit, the last bus to the connecting train to the last train leaves in three minutes!” He stood up from his double-crossed legs and picked up his bag. “Good riddance I am on the first floor and the bus stop is just outside the building, but I better get there fast.” He cast a longing look at the Gents sign on the door as he walked by it, and then briskly walked out through the entrance and saw an empty bus parked at the bus stop. Feeling slightly thirsty again, Keith asked the bus driver to wait for a minute as he bought a bottle of isotonic drink from the vending machine, and then the bus promptly departed after he boarded this bus.
Keith’s bladder was feeling pretty full, but he is very confident of being able to making the twenty minute journey to the train station, where public toilets will be available. He had drunk a lot of plain water at work and it would be good to restore the sodium lost from his body, so he simply finished his isotonic drink in no time. As he finished the ice-cold drink, he felt another mild urge. However, the bus seats do not give enough legroom for him to cross his legs, so he can only squeeze his legs together, and endure a fairly uncomfortable trip as the bus rumbled slowly on. Although his job scope is to produce bus schedules, he resented the fact that Ministry regulations and union agreements forced the bus company to schedule the buses to run at such speeds. In fact, there is a direct bus route from his workplace to his home, but this route is extremely circuitous and requires almost ninety minutes of travelling time. Besides, he always preferred to have the option to have a mid-route toilet break.
The bus arrived on-time at the train station. Keith alighted from the bus, and threw his isotonic drink bottle into the trash bin. He knew the layout of this train station very well, so he knew the shortest route to the toilets without having to ask passers-by. He rounded the corner and started to mentally prepare for a release, and then “Wham!” “Ouch!” He pushed the door again, but it won’t bulge. Then he saw a small sign below the large Gents sign that reads, 7:00 am – 11:00 pm. Suddenly a wave of panic went over Keith, as he faced the prospect of having to hold it all the way home. He regretted drinking so much water without paying attention to the time, and he regretted drinking the isotonic drink on the bus. As the panic subsided, he strolled through the turnstiles, and slowly paced up and down the platform while waiting for the connecting train to come.
It was train jam-packed with people returning from the shopping district as the shops start to shutter up its doors, and Keith was getting desperate with a bladder that was rapidly filling up. He could not really stand still; his sphincter muscles are working really hard. He tried to discretely grab his member by putting one hand into his pocket, but his very tight pants meant that it only added pressure to his swollen bladder, and he quickly jerked his hand out. He was sweating beads in the cool and pleasant weather. And he began to fear that he would not be able to make it home dry. “No! Unlike some of my mates, I have never wet my pants in all these drinking sessions, and I will not wet myself here. I have survived three-hour final exams without going to the toilet, and I will survive today.” Suddenly a scary memory hit him. There was this two-and-a-half hour exam he nearly did not make it. He had a quick lunch with a large cup of strong coffee to keep himself awake, and entered the classroom with his large bottle of plain water without peeing because he peed before lunch. The exam questions were extremely tedious and he feared that if he asked for a toilet break, he would lose his concentration and not finish the paper. He ended up absolutely desperate while the exam scripts were collected, and when he finally ran to the toilets, he struggled for a very long time to open his button flies in front the urinal. He made it, but not before he squirted once into his underwear just before the buttons came free. Fortunately, the damage was confined largely in his underwear and did not show on his black Levis, but it left an unforgettable shock as he never remembered letting out any pee in his pants since the age of five. Since then, he resolved never to wear button fly jeans, and he always peed before taking an exam. He assured himself, the jeans he wearing now is zipper fly, so there should be no problems when he finally reached the toilet.
What seemed like an eternity was only ten minutes, and the train started to slow down at the connecting station. Now Keith had a bigger challenge: he only has two minutes or so to catch the last train in the underground platform. He cursed at the unnecessarily early last train. Normally he is a good runner, and he had always successfully sprinted through the escalators to catch the last train, but he has never sprinted before with such a full bladder. He muttered to himself, “I can do it.” With that, he clenched his sphincter muscles as tightly as he could, and immediately dashed out as the train doors opened. As he ran, his tight jeans were alternating between compressing his overfull bladder on the left side and the right side, and the urge become almost intolerable. He jammed his left hand into his crotch as he ran, which made his sprinting awkward; and he used his other hand pushing slow moving people aside at the same time, he simply did not care. As he went down the escalators, he thought he saw people casually entering an open toilet. Oh, the tortures… He did it – the train doors closed behind him just as he stepped into the train, and he sank down into a seat of the empty train panting heavily.
Suddenly Keith felt a sense of wetness at the tip of his member, and he was frightened: “Is it sweat… or am I… starting to… wet myself?” This triggered another huge wave, which Keith instinctively sat up and crossed his legs, only to find that the waist and crotch of his jeans was putting too much pressure; he immediately uncrossed his legs and jammed both hands into his crotch, squeezing his legs tightly. The wave subsided, and nothing seemed to have escaped. He looked down, he saw nothing. “Phew…” To ease the constant pressure, he slouched slightly. He was getting more and more desperate, but sitting with his legs tightly closed together is quite a bit more comfortable than standing up. He looked around; luckily his train car and the adjacent two cars were totally empty. He placed one hand on top of his crotch, and he could massage his member whenever the urges came without the embarrassment of onlookers. However, it didn’t help that the cool air was freely rushing through in the empty train cars, making Keith feeling cold as the sweat from his sprint started to evaporate. He checked his crotch – nothing was visible. But his fingers felt… a bit damp. He lifted his finger and sniffed at it, and there was the familiar smell – oh horrors of horrors – it is pee!
The train emerged from the long tunnel into the dark blue night sky, signifying that the train is approaching the terminal station. Keith was constantly shifting himself in his seat, his legs constantly jiggling. His heart was racing, ah… the toilet at home! But first he has to stand up. He tried to, but the urge was too great. A second time, and he could not do it. What is he to do? He has to stand up or pee himself sitting there. No! Finally, he took a deep breath, both hands squeezed his member hard, sphincter muscles working hard, and stood up in one motion. The urge was overwhelming, and he felt a small amount of urine escape, he clamped it hard, and after a few seconds it subsided a bit. He looked down and saw a one-inch wet spot on the bottom of his crotch. Going out of the train into the platform, he could not walk straight, and pushing through the turnstiles seemed like a major obstacle course.
The last obstacle before his home was the flight of stairs of only twenty steps, but it was an excruciating climb as his very tight skinny jeans was pressing on his bladder during each step, so he had to stop after each step, bending slightly forwards, grabbing the railing in one hand and grabbing his member in the other. Luckily, it was already past midnight, so nobody was there to see Keith’s predicament. With superhuman powers, Keith finally managed to overcome the stairs and arrived at his home, which was so conveniently located on the first floor. With the toilet getting nearer and nearer, the signal beckoning for the bladder’s release became stronger and stronger. Keith struggled to unlock his door with one hand jammed into his crotch. As the door opened, the urgency increased many fold, and he kicked off his shoes and he made a beeline to the toilet without bothering to close the door.
“Woo, I made it just in time, and I’ll just unzip, and – no!” The new belt, which was made even tighter from the bulging bladder, just won’t seem to release. Suddenly a huge wave came, his sphincter muscles momentarily gave way; both his hands flew down and managed to stem the flow after two seconds. “Oh no, not here!” Keith exclaimed, just as he witnessed his wet spot increasing in size. In his panic, he tried yanking his belt outwards, but it only made the vertical metal bar jam more tightly in the fabric of the belt. Another massive wave came, and he felt two strong spurts, and then the wetness moving further down his legs. Keith was cursing and swearing, and made another feeble attempt at loosing the vertical bar, but it won’t bulge. An even larger massive wave causing several spurts came, and this time the wave took a very long time to subside. He is now at a stage where he could not quite remove his hands away from his member. To free his hand, he tried to cross his right leg over his left, but the tight belt and tight crotch of his jeans merely pressed against his overfull bladder, causing yet another spurt. Soon Keith found himself making large frequent releases, and despite that the waves only got bigger and more frequent, and his skin-tight jeans was now soaked to the knees. Not being able to free his belt, the pulsating waves finally merged into one single unstoppable enormous pressure, and Keith’s much weakened sphincter muscles totally gave way. He gave up and slowly let his hands go, and the powerful jet shot a stream of pee out from the saturated crotch of his jeans. The faded light blue skinny jeans became dark blue, and a huge pool formed on the toilet floor as he peed for a full minute. Keith had totally pissed himself in the toilet, in front of the toilet bowl.
It was an indescribable feeling of simultaneous shock and bliss. Humiliated, Keith leaned into the wall and slowly got back to his senses. The accident is real, and not a bad dream. Now he needs to change out of his sopping wet jeans, but how? As he was contemplating a solution to this problem, he absent-mindedly tugged the loose end of his belt in the direction of tightening it. To his bewilderment, he felt his belt come loose, with the vertical metal bar becoming unstuck. However, it was already too late to prevent the damage. Still, the major consolation Keith had was that he had the apartment all to his own, saving himself from further embarrassment.
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Welcome to this blog!
Welcome to this blog! This blog will mainly contain pictures of male desperation, peeing, and wetting that are found on the web. Hope you enjoy them!
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