Posted by Gil26 on January 01, 19100 at 13:21
I was fortunate enough, early last fall, to get a ticket to a Tennessee Titans football game, one of the first in their beautiful new stadium in Nashville. It was a warm day, and the beer was tasting mighty fine, although they don't exactly give it away--$5 for a domestic. Mindful of stadium prices, I downed three cold ones at a tailgate picnic just before kickoff. Those beers, combined with two more I had inside the stadium, meant that by the second quarter, I was less concerned with the course of the game than I was with my urgent need to piss.
I decided to head for the men's room two minutes before halftime, in an effort to beat the crowd. However, it became obvious that I hadn't been the only one with that thought. By the time I pushed my way through the mob to the restroom, I saw that the lines for the urinals were 10 to 12 guys long. For the first time, I began to doubt my ability to "go the distance." I put my hand in the right pocket of my jeans so I could squeeze my dick--easy to do, as I was wearing no underwear. I realized, however, that this lack of underwear, combined with my soft, old, faded grey jeans, would make even the smallest squirt visible, something I was determined to prevent.
As I waited in line, I realized that the guy beside me in the next line was in worse shape than was I. He was, I guessed, a couple of years younger than me, maybe 21 to 24, a cleancut preppie type. Not only did he have his hand thrust deeply into the pocket of his khakis, he was also intemittently bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet. Once in a while, he would stop this motion, cross his legs tightly (not so easy to do while standing), and bend over slightly at his waist. I decided that watching this show might be fun; at least it would take my mind off my own problem.
Our gazes happened to meet as we both fidgited, and I muttered to him that the line had better start moving faster, or I would be in trouble. He responded with a tight little nervous smile...or was it a grimace? I could see real fear in his big hazel eyes.
About two minutes later, when we were both in 6th position in our respective lines (and believe me, I was counting!), I heard him moan something. He quickly took his hand out of his pocket, and grabbed the front of his trousers, no longer giving a damn if others were aware of his plight, and clamped down hard. Had anything happened? I couldn't tell with his fist in the way. A few seconds passed before he murmured "oh, no," and I looked at his face. He was on the verge of tears. I looked down at his crotch. Piss was seeping out between his clenched fingers. A dark shiny stain blossomed on the front of his khakis and began spreading down his left leg.
I was in heaven. I hadn't seen a guy piss his pants close up since my best 6th-grade bud did it in daily chapel at our parochial school. It was the hottest thing I've ever seen. The guy beside me was wetting his pants, and I could almost feel the warmth myself, and feel the blessed sense of relief. It was like an out of body experience. It took maybe 15 seconds for me to realize what was happening. The sense of warmth I was feeling was all too real, it suddenly dawned on me. I looked down at my own jeans, now wet to my knees. I looked back up at my new friend. "I'm right there with you, buddy," I said.
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