Mickey

Established Member
  • Content Count

    144
  • Joined

  • Last visited

Community Reputation

219 Ally

About Mickey

  • Rank
    Desperate

Personal Information

  • My pronouns are..
    they/them

Recent Profile Visitors

3,368 profile views
  1. Mickey

    A New Chapter

    I am with the suggestion to offer Amanda solution (A) but have her refuse on the grounds of it stinks/no one will use it. [Then maybe she will reach a stage where she understands her mistake?] Personally I would like to see (C) as the accepted solution. You would have to be pretty desperate to go over to the building opposite and ask to use their loos - especially if Amanda announces they are meant to be used only in case of an extreme emergency. And if the building opposite turns out to be a small family owned milk shake parlor with just one unisex toilet, with plenty of their own customers queuing up to use it, wellllllll, that would be fun! Also, I think option (E) is always open - I mean everyone will always find their own solutions if they want to. But we can't not have an 'official' solution, can we?
  2. Mickey

    If you had to choose.........

    I think I will take #1 - not a fan of wet pants at all. Would you rather - 1. Never pee in a public loo (you can only pee in a toilet at home. Outside? Well, the world is your restroom my friend) 2. Never pee in your home toilet (there's always the kitchen sink I guess. Though if you have a room mate/family living in *shrug*)
  3. Mickey

    A Game To Remember

    Scene-5: Game Over! Paul could feel all the soda pushing down against his spinchter, begging for release. His legs were crossed tight, but that was hardly any relief. He squirmed around, trying to find a more comfortable position but that only jolted his bladder. All the liquids sloshed inside him, making his urge even worse. Fuck. The pitcher was taking his time to walk up to the mound. Paul wanted to scream at him to hurry the fuck up. He would piss himself if he had to wait much longer. He looked around surreptitiously, looking for ways to escape his torture. He could just walk away, couldn't he? I mean, not like Greg was his dom or something. (Though he wouldn't mind that at all now, would he?) His bladder spasmed, urging him to make a run for it. But no, he did promise Greg he'll watch a match with him. He owed Greg. No, he must suffer through this. Finally the pitcher threw the ball. The batter didn't even bother swinging. Ugh! Just great. As another wave of desperation washed over him, he put a hand through his pocket, and squeezed his dick shut. That just about kept it all in. He had never been this desperate in his life! He crossed his legs the other way - not like that helped, but it was something. The pitcher threw again. Strike one. They took their own sweet time getting ready, fielders being repositioned. Paul was really freaking out now. A spurt had almost escaped his death grip. He bent forward at the waist and ground his crotch against the seat. He looked longingly at the soda cup. It was one of those monstrous ones. It would hold the flood inside him. Oh what wouldn't he give to just aim in to that, and let it all go! But there were so many people watching h! He drew his legs up to his chest and hunched forward, rocking back and forth very gently. He was beyond desperate, and beyond humiliated. He was doing a pee pee dance in front of a whole baseball stadium. Ok, so may be a mostly empty baseball stadium - but it was still a whole lot of people. As another wave rocked his spinchter, he decided he would just get up and fucking go. The match was apparently delicately poised - Greg would surely not notice him slipping out! As he put his feet down again, he caught Greg's eyes, looking at him with uncontrolled lust. Fuck. Was Greg actually enjoying this!? His dick twitched at the thought. Greg quickly looked away towards the field where the batter had just striked out again. However Paul was sure he was watching him from the corner of his eyes. A sharp ache brought him out of his thoughts. He cradled his bladder - it was rock hard, packed tight with all the piss. The waistband of his short was digging in to his overfull organ. He tried pulling it up - but the pressure just shifted to a different region in his bladder. Shit, he was just about to burst. Just the thought of not being able to hold his urges brought a flush of color to his cheek. So what if he had been practically desperate to piss for an hour? He could do this! The game was just about to end! He decided to concentrate on Greg, try and forget the other people probably watching his little pee pee dance. Paul closed his eyes, focusing on the memory of Greg's lust filled eyes. Heat pooled in his stomach, inspite of the sharp cramps and the dull ache that was his bursting bladder. He palmed his crotch, putting pressure directly on the base of his cock. Ah, that felt good. He leaned back to give his bladder room to expand and shamelessly pressed his groin against the seat, massaging it, hoping and praying for the match to end soon. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* If Greg hadn't been so busy staring at Paul, he would have noticed the home run that won the match in dramatic fashion. But he was far more interested in the drama beside him. Paul was leaning back in his seat and crushing his dick against the chair, in an utterly desperate pee dance. His toes were curled inwards - the blue flip flops showing them clearly. It like like even his toes were trying to hold on to the edges of control. His red t-shirt had ridden up a little as he leant back, revealing the outline of his bursting bladder. Greg couldn't even imagine how badly Paul must need to relieve himself. His entire body was taut, at bursting point. Greg imagined Paul's black shorts getting soaked with pee, a little at first, a lot more later! He was becoming semi-hard just thinking about it. Fuck. As the deafening cheers (and groans) went out around the stadium, Paul opened his eyes. You could tell he was in real pain, but he didn't immediately make a run for it. He squeezed his dick, declaring in a strangled voice "Finally! Can I fucking piss now?" Was he asking for permission? This wasn't helping Little Greg's composure. "I almost burst here while they took their time with the final play. I need to piss. Right now, or I'll be peeing all over these stands" Paul stood up, and immediately bent double. He regained his composure with a few well placed squeezes and started waddling his way to the end of the empty row, towards salvation. Dick firmly clutched. He looked on the edge of despair, but about to make it. There was relief clearly written over his face, obvious how much he was looking forward to finally pissing. No, Greg couldn't let him go so easily - his bladder wasn't full enough to deserve relief just yet! Greg reached out and pulled him in to a hug instead, with an arm around Paul's waist. He was screaming "We won, we won!" pretending like he hadn't heard a word Paul said. His fingertips were right over Paul's rock hard bladder - he could feel the tight little mound. He was tempted to press down on the bulge and hear Paul moan, but he resisted the urge - that would give the game away. Paul was squirming deliciously in his arms - that was enough. For a first time at least! And Paul's bladder was being tortured enough without any intervention. He would enjoy they the show ... *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Author's Note - The next few scenes might not turn up for a while. Real life is gonna get pretty busy, and it doesn't help that the next few scenes are even more out of my comfort zone than this has already been πŸ™‚ So apologies, if I keep you waiting (so to speak) ...
  4. Mickey

    A Game To Remember

    Scene-4: The limits of the human bladder Paul had no choice but admit just how badly he needs to pee. His bladder was starting to really hurt. He couldn't possibly wait another minute, let alone another full innings! He would be pissing uncontrollably in his shorts any second now - his spinchter was just so tired of the wait, forced to hold back the weight of so much soda! He would beg Greg if that got him relief. He needed relief, right now. "Oh don't be a baby! Just wait till the game ends. It's just one more innings" He felt his bladder throb and pulse, telling him one more innings would be too much, he really needed to pee NOW. "I am dying here Greg. I have never needed to pee so badly in my life. I can't wait" he stuttered. His overwhelming need was still managing to increase in urgency each passing second. He ground his thighs together, searching for some relief. But Greg was holding on to him tight. "Oh come on! It's just one more innings. Just cross your legs and wait - you can surely hold on if you just try!" "I have done that for the last two innings! I can't anymore" - his legs were shaking from being crossed so tight and fuck he really was on the verge of pissing himself. "The human bladder is larger than you think! Did you know we experience the urge to pee when our bladders are only a quarter full? You're nowhere full enough to pee yourself involuntarily. Your bladder has plenty of room still - you're just not aware of it. So just sit back down, cross your legs and wait." "I have needed to pee for a long time Greg. Please let me go pee?". The desperation was clear in his voice, his whole body shaking from the effort of holding on. He was definitely more than a quarter full. He was probably a quarter full back in the second innings! Just thinking about his bladder made him shudder. He clutched at his dick, trying to physically lock the doors of escape for his pent up pee. Paul was definitely past the phase where he could hide his need - no point in being ashamed now. His legs were crossed together, body bent forwards. He was embarrassed by his need, but he knew pissing himself would be worse. "How old are you again!? Who can't wait for just 20 minutes unless like they're 3 year old?" Greg sounded annoyed now. Paul's cheeks were bright red. Yes, he was being a baby. But he needed to pee so so badly! Just then the sprinklers went on in the neighbouring soccer field. Fuck. Watching all that water being released was just too much for him. His legs started trembling uncontrollably from the sheer desperation of his situation. He quickly sat down and used both his hands to give his cock a good squeeze. 20 mins. 20 mins. He could do this. He must do this. Though he felt like his bladder had no more room, but surely it could accommodate a bit more? His poor swollen bladder spasmed violently, sending him desperate signals to void. But he held on. He would see this game through. He has to. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Greg couldn't believe his luck! Paul was clearly bursting! He was sitting on the edge of his seat, grinding his dick down. He must have needed to pee really really badly because he had used both hands to clutch at his long suffering dick - completely oblivious to the fact that Greg's hand was still on his wrist. Greg had finally left his wrist when he realized Paul intended to keep his hands firmly on his lap, pushing down against the base of his dick, near at hand to crush his dick whenever the urge to pee became particularly bad. He was squirming with abandon now, as if his need outweighed any sense of decorum. He was holding his entire body stiffly, as if every ounce of concentration was required to keep that one door closed. "I need to pee too, okay? I have needed to from the fourth innings. We can run to the loos as soon as the match ends, okay?" Greg rubbed his hand over Paul's tense shoulders trying to get him to relax. It was half true anyway - he did need to pee quite a bit. Normally he would have paid a visit to the men's room long ago - but he was enjoying Paul's predicament way too much to give in to his own needs. There would be no running to the loos if he could help it, but Paul didn't need to know that. "I really can't wait Greg! Please let me go pee now. I have to pee so bad" "Just a few more minutes! Come on, the game has heated up so much! Just concentrate on that" A whimper of pain escaped Paul's lips as he slammed his thighs closer together. He was clearly in need of a massive piss. Greg was impressed by his bulging bladder. He had never seen anyone sport such a bulge in real life. "I need to pee" Paul was whimpering, but Greg had no intention of letting him find relief. He kept his hands around Paul's shoulders, making sure there would be no further escape attempts. He had a once in a lifetime chance of making Paul pee himself. He wouldn't let it go.
  5. Mickey

    A Game To Remember

    Thanks! * Blush Blush * Let's see how long he manages to wait!
  6. Mickey

    A Game To Remember

    Glad to know you're enjoy this! He is a big boy, isn't he? πŸ˜„ He's gonna be waiting for a while I think ...
  7. Mickey

    A Game To Remember

    Scene-3: Desperation Greg had enjoyed watching Paul fidget in his peripheral vision. He hadn't dared to stare, but just knowing his friend was desperate to use the loo was enough. He noticed Paul getting up - damn, Paul must be making his way to the urinals. Knowing he'll probably never manage to make Paul bursting to wee again, he decided to push his luck. "Oi! Where do you think you're going? No running away from the game", he kept his voice light as he pulled Paul by the wrist. "Oh come on! You know I won't leave without you" Paul almost whined, while stepping from foot to foot. "Oh yeah? You're telling me you haven't been thinking of it for the last six innings?" "Well, ok, maybe a bit" he laughed, and immediately winced. Laughing on a full bladder is never a good idea, Greg thought wryly. Greg liked his laugh. He loved how Paul had his thighs pressed together even more, knees bent slightly inwards. Biting his lower lip. Still not telling Greg how badly he needs to piss. Well, there were still two innings to go! "Come on, sit back down. You're a big boy, you can certainly wait out the two remaining innings." Greg pulled him down to the seat "No one's leaving till the match is won" "Not like your team's gonna win" Paul actually stuck out his tongue at him, while his eyes showed how troubled he was about the pressure on his bladder. Greg laughed out loud at how ridiculously cute Paul looked and their conversation changed in to pure banter. Greg was gonna keep a close eye on Paul though - if he had anything to say about this, Paul won't find relief for a very very long time. He kept his hold on Paul's wrist. No, that did not count as holding hands. ***************** Paul couldn't believe he had let Greg pull him back down. He fucking needed to piss! Sure he was a big boy with a big bladder, but he also had drank 3 litres of soda. In 2 hours. Surely he deserves some relief? But no, Greg was still holding on to his wrist (did it count as holding hands?) and it was nice, and he couldn't possibly need to pee so badly that he can't wait for 40mins? He crossed his bare legs tight, moving his left leg roughly over his right. The friction felt nice against his crotch. Well, he'll just have to cross his legs and hold it through the last two innings - what choice did he have? His bladder will have to take it. Surely you can always wait if you have no other choice? As the seventh innings wore on, Paul became more and more uncomfortable. His bladder was stretched, trying to push its way out of his abdomen, the waistband digging in to the bulge. He can barely think of anything else other than how good a piss would feel. He crosses his legs a little tighter, and pulls the shorts up. No relief. Dammit. He is starting to doubt if his bladder is big enough for this flood - he is already past the point where he would water the trees on a road trip. And there was still 30 mins to go. A kid in the row in front is slurping his drink, the sound loud and clear in the lull of play. A sharp pang washed over him, the three litres of soda insisting on leaving. He ground his crotch against the seat, trying to get it to press against the base of his dick. As the kid slurrped loudly, again, another jolt went through him. His toes curled inside the blue slippers from the effort of waiting. He needed to make a run for the loos right now. He scissorred his crossed legs, trying to gain some traction. He needed to pee so badly, he was afraid he would go all over his pants if he stood up suddenly. He bent forwards as a wave of desperation washed over him. He could feel the hard ball of rocks that was his bladder when he bent forwards. The black shorts were digging painfully in to his bulging bladder, but his bladder was so full it wouldn't give way. Everytime he moved there was a jolt through him and he could feel the liquid slosh inside him, trying to force their way out. As the seventh innings came to a close, he stood up. He pulled at Greg, trying to force him to unhand him. His hand was balled in to fists, clutching his red t-shirt, as if if only he could hold his shirt tightly enough his spinchter would hold too. But Greg refused to let him go, yanking him down instead. "Greg, I really really need to pee. I can't wait any more!" "Oh come on man, surely you can wait the last innings out" "No, I can't. I must pee now" he said through gritted teeth. He was utterly humiliated about admitting it, but the thought of wetting his pants was worse. His bladder was rock hard now, filled to the brim with the 3 litres of soda he had consumed. And even his bladder had it's limits. He couldn't imagine waiting another second with this ball of piss inside him. It HAD to go.
  8. Mickey

    A Game To Remember

    Scene-2: I don't want that soda! "Here, you can stop sucking at that empty cup now" Damn. Greg had bought him another king size soda. With two litres of heavily caffeinated monster soda already inside him and just half the game gone, he had not planned on drinking any more liquids. Much less yet another huge cup of heavily diuretic soda. His bladder was already uncomfortably full - nothing urgent yet, on the higher side of 5/10. His legs were still on top of the chairs in front of him, but they were no longer just casually crossed. He distinctly needed to press his legs together. Normally he would just get up and take a piss - but he really didn't want to leave Greg alone. Also, he knew Greg would whine about him missing the game - he had already said "no pee breaks", if not in so many words. Though of course, he could take a pee break if he really needed to. But then, which 26 year old wants to admit they really need to pee, in front of their crush? Just admitting to a full bladder is bad enough at any time, as if he's a little boy. But admitting he needs to pee so badly he can't see out a 3 hour game? Hell no. He crossed his legs a little bit tighter. He'll be fine. Half the game was over anyway. But it was getting more difficult to ignore his bladder. He had quite a large one, and he had peed just before leaving. He was sure he could wait this out. But he could really feel his bladder now, the urine trickling in slowly - if only he were interested in baseball! At least the game would have distracted him from his steadily filling bladder. Instead he was acutely aware of how it had been filling up, the urge to tinkle gradually becoming more and more insistent as the game wore on. "Earth to Paul, earth to Paul" Paul jolted out of his reverie. Greg was shaking the soda in front of him, the liquids sloshing about. Dammit. He squirmed a little to find a more comfortable position - he had always been proud of his mammoth bladder, but 2 litres of soda in less than 2 hours can be a bit much for anybody. He pulled his legs down and sat up straight - there, that reduced the pressure on his bladder. He took the soda and dragged Greg in to a conversation about some mad things they had got up to in college. He needed to ignore his rising need to pee. Somehow. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Greg was happy enough to be drawn in to a conversation. The intensity of the game had fallen bit, and the intensity of his "make Paul desperate for relief" game had picked up. He noticed Paul sit up straight and lean backwards, his body relaxing a bit, as if giving his bladder room felt good. He uncrossed his legs and took a tiny sip from his cup. They chit chatted for a while, Paul seemingly oblivious to his filling bladder. Around the midpoint of fifth innings Greg noticed Paul touching his abdomen, probably unconsciously, gently stroking it. May be he was starting to feel all the liquids finally? He was measuring his gulps now, like he really didn't want to put more soda in, without letting some come out. When he crossed his legs, one over the other, tight, with a rather panicky expression on his face, Greg knew. The plan was working. Taking advantage of a lull in their conversation, while Paul crossed his legs the other way, Greg decided to change the topic to something more, interesting. "You know, we should do a trip to Niagra Falls sometimes" "What!? So random!?" "No, I was just remembering my visit there. I went there when I was a little kid you know, with my parents. But I still remember the gush of the water. The sound it makes, as it rushes free - there is just so much flowing water. And when we went it was raining heavily, the spray from the falls mixing with the rain. Water was dripping all over us, split splat. It was just so nice" "Uh huh" - there was a definite hitch to Paul's voice now as he gulped down a big mouthful of soda, and tried to find a more comfortable position. Greg could tell he was trying to be inconspicuous, but it was quite obvious - Paul was uncomfortably full now. And the images of water falls wasn't helping. "Yeah, I really love water you know. Just splashing around in it. Or swimming in a river, while the water rushes all around you. But the best thing is a waterfall. Imagine so much water being held back, and then forcing it's way out. Such beauty! Such freedom too, finally getting to make it's way out of the rocks ..." Paul distinctly groaned. Greg's attentive eyes caught the shiver that ran over his body, and the blush that spread over his cheeks, as he 'casually' pressed the soda cup against his crotch. For a moment Greg thought he would come right out and say he needed to pee, now. But he seemed to reconsider it, gulp a few times and then determinedly changed the subject. Greg let him. That soda he had drank was making it's own way down. All that water talk wasn't exactly comforting for him either. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* By the beginning of the sixth innings, Paul knew he was in trouble. Serious trouble. He was still sipping on his drink, and he could feel each sip make it's way right through him and to his bladder. He could swear he felt the drink dribbling in to his bladder, and packing it up with the liquids. He wasn't in a crisis, not yet. He wouldn't be looking for a bush just yet if he were on a road trip alone - but he wasn't far from the point. 7/10 you could say. Paul tugged the hem of his shirt nervously. A slight curve was developing on his abdomen, his bladder swelling out. He looked down at the half liter of soda still left and immediately pretzeled his legs, crossing them at the ankles too. He would hate pissing himself in front of so many people - mostly jocks that too. But he really didn't want to admit to a desperate need for relief. No, he wasn't that desperate yet. And he definitely did not want to talk to his crush about needing "the little boys' room". He decided to wait out the innings, and finish his drink. He'll see whether his bladder or his heart wins out after that. Throughout the innings, he had to fidget in his seat, trying to get comfy. Halfway through, he couldn't afford to uncross his legs any longer - they needed to stay permanently closed, like his spinchter. He really really didn't want the rest of the soda, but Greg was encouraging him to finish and making jokes about people who wouldn't drink their soda for fear of needing to pee. That just brought out Paul's competitive streak, and made him down the soda. He regretted it the very next moment as a surge of need ravished his poor bladder. He could no longer deny it - he needed to pee. Thankfully the innings was just about to end. Perfect time to excuse himself to the bathroom. He thought of all the ways he could say "I need to pee" and found each deeply embarrassing. But the pressure down there told him he really needed to excuse himself, and now. He pressed his things together, as he went through his excuses in his head. "Hey Greg, I am very stiff - I need to take a walk". Nope. He would probably buy him another soda and take him on a walk in the opposite direction. "Greg, I need a tinkle". Nope. Too embarrassing. "Excuse me for a sec Greg. I'll just run to the men's room." Greg had already said he wouldn't let them miss anything! What if he just says "Nope, wait like a big boy?" "Greg, I am bursting for a piss". Too damn close to the truth. Thinking of all the ways to excuse himself was just making the urge worse. He sneaked a hand inside his pocket and gave himself a good squeeze. He really needed to take a piss, right now. He will just have to make a run for it. Never mind excusing himself from Greg. He wants to pee, and NOW! His bladder was way too full.
  9. Mickey

    The Omorashi Experience

    C2 is my first choice, Emma in a city environment. But A1 (Sarah in a rural environment) is good too!
  10. Mickey

    Eaks-2: A Man's Needs

    Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it ... I had initially planned a wet ending, but decided a sneaky piss was hotter. Glad to know you liked it! * Blush blush * Why thank you! This is the best compliment ever! Thank you! I am really grateful for your long comments! You have no idea how inspiring they are! πŸ™‚ I have never really written a toilet-queue story before, though it is such a common omorashi theme. I was planning to remedy that in this universe, though the plan was to have only the other men in the queue. Now, I am thinking I'll add Jordan too - I didn't think of "bladder fatigue", but now that you mention it, I know exactly how to work that in πŸ˜„ So yeah, no epilogue, but my next Eaks story will probably be Jordan waiting in a queue for the men's room, pee dancing. Thanks for the idea! I do think I'll write more stories in this universe πŸ˜„ It's been a lot of fun! Any specific situations you would like to read?
  11. Author's Note - I am writing this as part of a story trade with @Mad Bladder. They provided a detailed outline - so this fic will be somewhat different from my usual jam. I will post short chapters, scenes, as they get done. The first few scenes don't really have much desperation, but I promise the good stuff will come πŸ˜‰ PS - The story is set against the backdrop of a baseball game. I know zilch about baseball. So if you're a baseball fan, I beg your pardon. Scene-1: I Need That Soda! "Must we?" Paul whined, as Greg stood in his living room giving him a stern glance. Paul loved the man and all, but really, baseball!? "We had a deal. I watch A Walk To Remember with you, you come to a baseball game with me." Well, yes, there was that. But a local park baseball? With only hardcore baseball fanatics around? Ugh! "I kept my end of the bargain." - Greg's voice was so deep and firm. Compelling. How could Paul ever say no to that? "Fine, I'll go to the stupid game with you. Let me get dressed!" Greg had that rakish smile on his face, the one Paul really really liked. Well, ok, he could deal with a little baseball for that smile. "Hurry up, wouldn't wanna miss anything". Paul hurried to his bedroom - what do people even wear to baseball games? Greg was in a light blue jeans and a white T-shirt, but it was too hot for a jeans in Paul's opinion. He put on his black shorts instead, the one which cutely accentuated his butt. May be that'll get Greg's attention! They had been friends since freshman year in college - though they were as different as any two students could be. They had met at a gay bar, probably the only common attribute they had, and become fast friends. Quite a few moons later, they were twenty somethings with jobs in the same city, and still best mates. And somewhere along the line Paul had fallen hard for his friend. Neither of them had boyfriends at the moment, so why not? Well, if only Paul could tell Greg that. Shaking his long mane of brown hair, he woke himself out of his reverie. He threw on his bright red t-shirt and slipped his feet in to his favorite blue flip flops, and then admired his lanky frame in the mirror. Well, that'll do. A quick visit to the en-suite bathroom, and he was ready to roll. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* "I want that", Paul was whiny again. Greg nearly rolled his eyes. "You sound like a child" "I don't care. If I have to watch a baseball game, I need that" "Really? A monster soda?" "Yup. One for me, one for you." Paul was pouting now. Greg almost laughed at how cute he looked. He really should just go ask the guy out - but dating your best friend, well, it came with complications. He sighed and bought the king size monster sodas as they entered the park and settled down near the top of the bleachers. The park was semi-empty today, may be a hundred people at most, they could see the houses on the left and the soccer field on the right. The players weren't out yet, so Greg looked around to see if there was anyone they knew. "See, none of our friends watch these stupid matches!" "Baseball isn't stupid Paul! It's actually fun, if you would just stop complaining and watch!?" Paul was pouting again. Did he even know how cute he looked when he did that? *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Paul settled down, still pouting. No, he wasn't going to "give baseball a chance" thank you very much. But he had Greg all to himself for the next three hours, and his favorite soda, so life wouldn't be too bad. As the players entered the field, Paul was already enjoying the outing, chugging down the soda. By the end of the first innings, Paul had finished his monster soda and made Greg buy him another from the lone vendor moving around the bleachers. He was watching baseball for him. He surely owed him some sodas! They continued their chit chat, as he stretched his skinny legs up on the empty seat below them. He could feel the soda trickling into his bladder, but he had a large enough one to not worry. He slurrped his drink noisily as Greg jumped up and down at some "particularly good bit of play". As the second innings ended, Paul became aware of the growing pressure in his lower abdomen. His bladder was becoming really full. Well over a litre of soda would do that to a man. But unwilling to end his conversation with Greg, he decided to ignore it. He was barely aware of the need to pee, a 4/10 - he would pee at this stage if he were alone, but he could wait. He would be fine. He casually crossed his long legs and continued sipping the remnants of his second king-size soda occasionally. No more chugging it. *-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-* Greg noticed Paul's legs - crossed casually ahead of him. He looked pretty relaxed, but an hour after chugging that king size drink Greg's own bladder was pretty full. Paul had chugged two - could the leg crossing mean something more? "Ugh! That soda is going right through me" Greg commented casually, hoping to draw a reaction from Paul. "I wish the toilets weren't all the way out near the gates. I wouldn't mind running out for a quick whizz, but we are not missing this game!" "Yeah I know. I have to pay for my rom-com, right? Ugh! I know you actually enjoyed A Walk To Remember! Be a man and 'fess up" Paul wasn't biting. "Yeah, like I know you're enjoying this match. Isn't it awesome? Though I wish it were less eventful - I would be rushing to a loo right about now" Greg baited the trap further. He wanted to know! "How 'bout you?" "I am bored. This is sports you remember?" Paul smirked Greg rolled his eyes. Clearly, Paul wasn't biting. Which also meant he probably didn't need to pee at all. Paul did always have a large bladder. He decided to just enjoy their time together - they really hadn't found too much time to meet up lately. But as the vendor came by again after the end of the fourth innings, Greg decided to give his luck a shove in the right direction ...
  12. Mickey

    Eaks-2: A Man's Needs

    Episode-4: Bliss"Baby, I'm gonna ask the driver to stop. You need to pee. These roads are deserted - we haven't seen another vehicle in since forever!", Di cajoled. She could see how much pain Jordan was in. He needed relief, now. Societal niceties be damned! "You know I can't do that". The welled up in his eyes - the pain in his bladder was unbearable. It really hurt. He wanted to pee right now, he so badly wanted to, but men can't just pull their flies down, whenever and wherever. It just wasn't done. Yes he needed to piss, the sharp pangs from his abdomen hurt, bad. But to shamelessly pull out his dick, and just let it loose? Not even a bush to cower behind? Oh, he couldn't. He just couldn't. No matter how badly he needed to. He shook his head a little more firmly, as a tear rolled down his cheeks. He didn't dare move his hands from his dick to wipe it away, so he let it roll down. Even that tiny bit of water rolling on his cheek was torture for the gallons of piss inside his bladder, waiting to roll out it's own waters. He couldn't stifle a sob as a large spurt leaked past his strong grip, rolled along the length of his dick, and landed in his undies. Another followed, and another, till even his absorbent cotton undies were soaked through, there was a tiny wet spot in his pants. He managed to stop then, but he knew it wouldn't last long. But he must wait. He just must.Di was gently stroking his hair, murmuring soothing words. That's when he realized he was actually sobbing, kneading his dick, left hand inside jeans, and undies. He blushed deeply but he didn't dare stop. He was in pain, his urethra burning, his kidneys and bladder screaming in protest. But what could he do, other than bear it through gnashing teeth and pray his muscles last three trip? Gripping the base of his dick and stroking the length with a long finger was helping. Miniscule help, but help. It felt too good, and he tried to hold on to the feeling as another drop of pee entered his length, inspite of his efforts."Babe, you can't possibly mean that. You're in pain. You will hurt yourself. Please let me ask the driver" she whispered. But he was adamant. Wetting his pants was a better option than putting on a show for anyone to see. Just then a car passed them, underlining his point that a man simply doesn't have the privacy to brazenly pee on a roadside. But his sobs were drawing attention, people were turning back to look at them - the men with sympathy and understanding, the women with curiosity writ large on their faces. He tried to sit up straight, compose his face, but the pressure and pain was just too great for anything else to hold his attention.Di's death glare turned them all away anyway. Oh, how he loved this woman! Here he was, acting like a little boy who couldn't control his bladder, and she was fighting for him. Her brows were drawn together in concentration, as Jordan's pants developed a tennis ball size patch. His low moan-turn-sob apparently made up Di's mind for her."Ok, fine, no roadside. But I have a different idea."She pulled out her oversized scarf from her bag and quickly tied it to the window bar and the handle in front of Jordan's seat and hers. She looked around, before deciding the rod between their seats was where she wanted to tie the other end. There was effectively a tent over Jordan's lap now - the scarf hanging down on the ailse side. He wondered what she was up to, as an extremely urgent wave of desperation almost undid him. He slipped his right hand inside his jeans too, the cover of the 'tent' and the force of his desperation making him less shy."Lean back and look out of the window, and do as I say. No one can see anything but the scarf." Di instructed as she rooted around her bag. Jordan had no idea how this was supposed to help him endure 50 more minutes of torture, when his body was already giving up, but he was too desperate to think. Every bit of mental strength had to be concentrated on that single muscle, valiantly holding back the flood. He looked out of the window, as another spurt made it's way past his exhausted spinchter. The leaks were coming fast now, he really didn't know if he could last the next 50 seconds, let alone 50 minutes. He was well and truly fucked. Why did they ever agree for a bathroom less coach, when going to a beer festival!? Suddenly his bladder had room to expand, bulging out of the confines of his jeans. It reduced the pressure a bit, teeny tiny but oh so wonderful bit. He was so immersed in the tiny reprieve that he didn't start wondering how it had arrived till he felt Di's soft fingers on the waistband of his undies. What. The. Fuck?Di's body was guarding the view for anyone on the ailse side, and the tent hid his own view but he was sure Di had unzipped his jeans and was now unlacing his undies. "What are you doing!?" It came out as a strangled whisper."Well, you can't wait and you won't pee on the roadside because people may see. This way no one sees ""What! I am not peeing on the floor of some bus! Wetting myself would be less embarrassing!" Jordan was shocked, and annoyed. How could she!?"Not asking you to. I have a bottle. We'll just throw it away later. Come on, men have needs too, and we all must do what we must do.""But people will hear!" And smell. And know what he had done. And talk!"Not if we are quiet. And they'll know if you wet your pants too, and they'll talk worse. Come on, quit torturing yourself"Di had managed to tug his undies off, and he could feel the cool lips of a plastic bottle on his tip. A long spurt escaped his death grip, but this time instead of his jeans, a bottle caught it. With the rattling of the bus, the sound wasn't very audible anyway. The tell tale smell of beer-filled piss coated the air. He stopped, but Di was whispering encouragement, telling him how much he deserves a piss after waiting so long, how relieved he would be, and soon he has no control as he pisses a strong stream in to the bottle, audible even over the rattle of the old coach.He stops himself after 30 seconds of strong, hard pissing, cuts off the stream to a trickle and then just a drip, trying to regain control. He has some room in his bladder now, surely he can hold on, not embarrass himself further? He tries, he really does, but the aborted relief has left him desperate, bladder pulsating, insisting on more. He can't wait. He just can't. Having tasted relief, his body refuses to go back.He is peeing, peeing with abandon, fucking finally! He leans in to the pleasure, biting back a moan as the pee shudders out of his body, Di still gently murmuring loving words. He is so totally lost in the pleasure that it takes a while before Di's urgent whispers reach his addled brain. "You need to stop. Now!". Shit, how small was the bottle?He stops easily this time, bladder deflated, comfort restored. He isn't completely empty, but it feels so so good! He knows he can wait for the college restrooms now, easily. Actually, he'll just go at home - his friends would need that loo far more. He was ecstatic from relief as he laced his underwear back on, and zipped his pants back under the scarf. Ah, no pressure at all on his abdomen. This felt so so good!"Should I look for another bottle?" Di was half joking, half serious, half awed."No, I am good. Thanks. Thanks, really. I love you!" The relief was clear in his voice, as Di capped the bottle under their makeshift tent. "Could have used that two litre soda bottle though" he half jokes."I did. And you nearly made it overflow"Shit, he had really needed that piss! Author's Note -- And, the end! So what did you guys think of the ending? I was toying around with the idea of writing an epilogue, when Jordan finally empties his whole bladder, but then decided against it. He has little pee left in him - so he'll make it home just fine, may be legs pressed together, but just fine, and enjoy his long awaited meeting with the toilet bowl. Instead of writing his epilogue I will probably write another story in this universe. Any particular character/situation you would like to see in that, let me know!
  13. Mickey

    Eaks-2: A Man's Needs

    And the wait is almost over :-D The next chapter will be up in 15mins or so! Thank you for letting me know you're enjoying Jordan's predicament!
  14. Mickey

    Eaks-2: A Man's Needs

    Episode-3: AgonyIt takes a lot of will power to hold on to litres of beers sloshing around in your bladder, pulsing, throbbing, trying to force their way out. It takes even more will power when you have already broken your seal, and still have to hold on to 3.5 hours of golden urine. You can feel the piss pushing against your spinchter, trying to pry their way out in to the world. You can feel a drop slide down your urethra, gliding down your length and glistening at the tip. You can feel your undies soak it in, and the temptation to just get it all go. But you can't. Not for another hour. Which might just as well be another day, or another year, because from the sheer pressure on that one tiny muscle tells you both are equally impossible. Yet a man must garner the will power from somewhere. He must grit his teeth and wait, even when his eyeballs are floating in a sea of golden liquids. Jordan was well aware of the need to maintain dignity. Butt watching a group of women, some of his closest friends no less, brazenly relieving themselves on the side of the road, while he had to cross his legs and wait? That required impossible reserves of will power. Jordan's bladder was radiating wave after wave of pressure, trying to force his spinchter in to opening up, giving in to the long suppressed desire for relief. He couldn't stop the first spurt leaking in to his undies. It was a tiny spurt, but he knew it would be the beginning of the end. He had to make it to the college somehow. He just didn't know how. He gripped his penis tight, trying to squeeze the opening shut. It was just 60 minutes. He would do it. Looking out the window, he could clearly see the golden streams flow out from underneath the women's skirts, smell the pee in the air, hear the hiss of strong streams, the splash of the first burst of pee hitting the asphalt, expelled out of stressed bladders with force - everything, everything was calculated to notch his desperation beyond the bearable. As woman after woman moaned in blissful relief, Jordan whimpered pitifully. Oh if only he could be pissing like that! But there was absolutely no cover! Open fields on either side of the highway - not even a barn in sight. If there was a farmhouse he would go beg them to let him use their loo. But no, there was absolutely no possibility of relief for another hour, till they reached the college. Just the thought of holding on for another hour made the ache in his abdomen worse. Taking advantage of the lack of women in the coach, he gripped his dick hard with both hands and kneaded at the base, hoping to soothe the tired muscles. Each second the bus was stopped, was one more second his much needed relief would be delayed! Why can't the girls hurry up? They have surely peed enough? Jordan was scissoring his legs, rocking back and forth, trying to settle his bladder down before the women got back on. All the boys were, in their own ways, using the brief privacy to compose themselves for another hour of waiting. There were some murmurs of discomfort, but mostly everyone was too embarrassed to do anything other than squeeze their legs shut."Kyle, I, I really can't wait. What should I do?" he sputtered out loud, as a drop of pee leaked past his death grip on his dick. Kyle, in the seat before him, turned around. "I just can't wait Kyle. I need to pee so bad. It hurts. We are an hour away from college. I can't" he was nearly in tears now. He had vowed to wait, but what if he failed!? A grown ass man couldn't possibly wet his pants, could he? If you have no choice, you surely must be able to wait? But the drop of pee forcing it's way out in to his urethra begged to differ. He squeezed himself tighter as he wondered at Kyle's composure. That man must have a bladder the size of the Atlantic!"What other choice do we have?" Kyle was saying, in a matter of fact voice. "I don't know! Oh I wish I hadn't chosen these super skinny jeans today. My bladder can't even expand!""You could unzip them, probably give some room for expansion you know.""I couldn't, I won't be able to zip them back up again!" he whispered in embarrassment. Even under this incredible pain, he couldn't give up on decorum - he would not expose his undergarments to random women passing by his seat. "Oh, why didn't we pay for a coach with a restroom?""Because the girls made the decisions. And needing to pee, but having nowhere to go, just doesn't enter their heads" for once, Kyle sounded distinctly frustrated. Jordan had never heard Kyle complain about needing to pee in his life, but may be now even he needed to? "Kyle, will you be able to wait? For an hour?" he didn't know why he was asking, may be he wanted reassurance that he wasn't the only one on the verge of wetting himself? But he only got a typical stoic-Kyle "I'll just have to" as the girls made their way back to the coach, their sprightly gaits much different from the tiny steps they had taken on the way out.Di took her seat beside him, looking distinctly happier, as the other girls settled down and the bus finally started again. Jordan couldn't have hid his need now even if he had wanted to. He continued rocking back and forth, hand crushed against his lap (oh no, a decent man doesn't hold his pee pee in public, even if he is almost peeing himself) as Di gently moved her hands over his lower back, trying to comfort him."You're doing great baby! Just an hour more""I, I" Jordan was sputtering. "I don't think I can wait a few minutes, let alone an hour" he finally got out, past his barriers of shame. "I am bursting. Now.""Oh poor baby!" Di had one hand on his stomach, gently supporting his bulging bladder. She was still making encouraging noises, telling him he will make it. But Jordan's dick was on fire. His bladder was throbbing and aching. Every part of his body was twisted together, toes curled inwards, hands balled in to fists, in an effort to hold on. He felt every movement of the bus as a jolt through the gallons of piss waiting in his poor bladder. He leaned backwards, giving his bladder as much room to expand as he could. It was pushing against his tight jeans, a bulge clearly visible even through the inflexible material of his skinny jeans. Oh if only he had worn something looser may be the pressure would have been bearable. (It wouldn't, but a man must hope!)He was shaking from utter desperation now, his body racked by wave after wave of need. He leant forward and rubbed his dick as shivers ran through his body, propriety forgotten in the urgency of his need. Di was still muttering encouraging words, words which weren't helping."You will get to go soon" said Di. His brain screamed "Not soon enough! If any woman needed to pee half as bad she would have made the driver stop and released the waterfall". And the image of the waterfall almost made him burst then and there. He allowed his right hand to remain firmly on his lap, gripping the base of his dick, the picture of unsubtelty - praying he can hold on."You have done so great! It's just 50 odd minutes (it was 57). There is a men's room right at the parking area - you'll be empty in no time". His brain 'helpfully' supplied the image of 10 desperate boys, in a queue for the two stalls. No time, Di says! If, if, he made it through these 50 minutes, he would be last in line, the boys rushing in, while he can only wobble forward with his heavy piss filled bladder pulling him down, slowing his walk to the tiniest of steps, taken bent double. He would be last in line, as friend after friend pissed up a storm. He would hear them piss. He would hear them flush. He would hear them wash their hands. He would surely pee in his pants.A mangled scream escaped his throat, as his bladder continued to throb and pulse, a constant sharp ache accentuating his desperation. His valiant efforts to not wet his pants was definitely doomed. He let his left hand sneak inside his jeans, and cup his dick properly, his face twisted in to the picture of grim determination, as he tried to stave off the inevitable.
  15. Mickey

    Eaks-2: A Man's Needs

    I think this is your first comment on a male-only story of mine. Thank you for giving this a chance, and I am really glad to know you enjoyed it! That's the best compliment an erotica write can get! Thank you! There is one more (short) chapter of desperation, and then we shall have the inevitable flood πŸ™‚ I hope you enjoy them!