A second meeting

The main events in this story are true. The names, locations and some details of the story have been changed to protect the guilty.

It’s a follow-up to my story ‘A ride home’, which appears about 12 pages back. Read that one first if you can.
The next day David was thinking about the bizarre incident during the drive home, when both he and his passenger had had almost simultaneous accidents when they’d stopped to look for a toilet late at night. He remembered 20-year-old Richard’s name and, of course, he knew where he was studying, so it didn’t take him long to locate him on Facebook. David sent him a friendship request.
That evening David received Richard’s reply. “Hi – thanks for the friends request and for your understanding last night. Hope you’re OK. I felt very embarrassed at the time. My flat mates were in bed when I got home, so I got away with it.”
David had been OK too. He lived alone, so there was no-one to ask awkward questions. He was intrigued by Richard’s message. Firstly, there was no real need to bring the subject up again, and the use of the words “got away with it” implied he must have felt he’d done something mischievous rather than just plain embarrasing. He could almost imagine a twinkle in Richard’s eye as he read the words again.
He thought back to the time when he and his schoolmates were about eight years old, and used to play in the woods. Sometimes they would dare each other to let a bit of wee come out into their pants. They though it was very rude at the time – but fun! They had become quite skilled at letting just enough out for a drip or two to fall from their shorts, but at the same time “getting away with it”. But now he was 49, and had assumed that adults didn’t indulge in that sort of fun, so his accident brought back all sorts of memories. He also had to admit to himself that the feeling of actually letting go in his trousers was amazing.
He’d remembered how freely Richard had talked about it before he dropped him off. He checked Facebook ‘Chat’, and saw a little green spot against Richard’s name, so he plucked up the courage to raise the subject. “You sorted yourself out OK did you?”, he typed.
“Yeah, fine now, thanks,” came the reply. “I’d always dreaded doing something like that. I thought it would be really humiliating, but now I feel quite relaxed about the fact that it happened and I got away with it.”
“Me too. It was an interesting experience, and I didn’t have to worry about what happened when I got home,” was David’s reply.
Richard then came back with a comment. “I wouldn’t say this to anyone else, but I’m almost tempted to let it happen again. I like the idea of trying to get away with it.”
To cut a long story short, the two of them ended up arranging to meet on evening for a further chat. Wetherspoons in Hatbridge was the venue. David didn’t know whether the plan was to actually do anything that evening or just chat about it, but he had come prepared with a half-full bladder and was wearing his black jeans. He bought a cola, and after a few minutes Richard appeared. He bought himself a cola too, and the two of them started chatting. David told Richard that it reminded him of the tricks he and his mates got up to his younger days. Richard told David that he’d never had an accident after the age of about five, but sometimes sat on the toilet and weed through his briefs when he was a small boy.
The drinks finished, they both decided to go for a walk so that they could chat without being overheard. They talked about all sorts of things, but the topic of wet pants cropped up several times as each of them remembered incidents from the past – accidents they’d seen at school or in the recreation ground. David’s bladder was bursting by now, and he still didn’t know whether he was supposed to do anything. He noticed Richard was also wearing black jeans, so he took a risk.
“I’m sorry, I’m going to have to let some out now,” he exclaimed, and a moment later a think streak appeared on the left leg of David jeans.
Richard looked surprised and said, a bit awkwardly, “There’s someone walking his dog just over there. I think he saw you.”
David didn’t think he had been seen, but nevertheless felt he’s made a wrong move, so he said no more. They walked back to David’s car, and David was just about to get in when Richard said, “Why don’t we drive out of the town centre a bit – I know this place well.”
Richard had left his bike chained to a fence, so David set off following Richard’s instructions. After about 10 minutes Richard told him to stop, and guided him through a hole in the roadside hedge. They found themselves in a playing field. It was dark, but a faint glow from the street light in the town made it possible to see where they were going.
Suddenly Richard stopped, and turned to face David. He didn’t say anything, but David noticed a round glistening spot on the front of Richard’s jeans. It slowly grew as Richard let out squirt after squirt of piss until it was the size of a watermelon, completely enveloping his zip-fly. That set David going, and he just let the lot go straight through his white M&S slip briefs and down his legs. It felt sensational – much better than the time before when it had been accidental. He felt relaxed about it now.
“Right, better get back,” Richard said. They walked back through the hedge to the car, and drove in silence to the place where Richard had left his bike. They both felt slightly awkward about what they’d done. David said goodbye to Richard, and as he got on his bike he noticed that Richard’s wet patch wasn’t really visible on his black jeans any more. When he got home his jeans felt almost dry, but he had a quick shower and put some clean ones on.
David switched on his computer and logged on to Facebook. Richard was on line, but David didn’t know whether to contact him – he felt perhaps they he’d gone a but too far, especially as there was such an age difference and they hardly knew each other. Bu the chat box suddenly popped up.
“Hi David, everything OK?” came the message from Richard.
“Yeah, fine thanks – hope you’re OK too.”
“Well, I didn’t know quite what would happen this evening, but like you, I came prepared.”
“Yes, I guessed that.”
“I didn’t say much afterwards because I was so excited by what I’d done. I got half way home on my bike, and I just stopped, stood astride the bike and let the rest go in my jeans. I felt exhilarated.”
David couldn’t believe what he was reading, since he had felt the same. He had a suspicion that it might not be that last time the two of them got together.

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