A view of college freshmen from a neat vantage point–a condo balcony on a cul-de-sac!

I live fairly close to a small men’s college that has a number of commuting students. Especially at the beginning of the school year, as young men begin to adjust to a whole new way of approaching the world, I see a surprisingly fair number of guys who end up going to the bathroom in their jeans! They’re either on their way home as commuters, or they find they can’t handle liquor as they attend various “frat” parties. When I moved here, I couldn’t believe the sights I saw!

Bathrooms aren’t always right around the corner, and the bus stops are further apart, and take longer to get to where they’re going. Some guys are lucky to have cars, but that doesn’t mean that they can get to a toilet faster than a walker. Some junker cars become toilets, but not by design! And the guys that hang around the cars are the types that don’t always dress the best or are the smartest all around.

Believe it or not, I saw one interesting incident yesterday afternoon! A couple of freshmen, I guess on their way home, were cutting through my condo complex with one in an obvious hurry. Both were clad in the typical “college uniform” that sees increasingly tighter jeans, dark tight t-shirts, white sneakers, a backpack, in this one guy’s case, a darker color blue around his crotch, and he was walking like he had something in his briefs, something that prevented his legs from moving normally in a forward direction. Plus when he passed by my viewing area, jeans that were tight all over weren’t tight in his butt–he looked like he had a couple of baseballs in his underpants! Poor guy! His pal seemed somewhat amused, and resigned to just trying to be a friend–trying to shield his friend from prying eyes while looking for a place where the guy could dump some of those “baseballs” in his briefs out. But not around my place!

My condo is a corner unit with a patio, at the end of one building at the end of a cul-de-sac, with woods beyond. It’s very sheltered. Occasionally I hear a car drive to the edge of the woods, a door slam, and sometimes, some arguing, followed by a string of profanities, and then an exclamation of incredible relief, then quiet. The condo management keeps the place well-washed, otherwise the smell of pee would become overwhelming! Usually it’s a group of two or three guys, with one in absolute desperation. I guess they think they’re gonna just whip it out and pee at the edge of the woods, but this is a place where people live!

Sometimes at the end of a school day I join a friend on the 3rd floor with similar prurient interests. His balcony looks out over the parking lot, right where the guys park to do their thing. Then, when they realize it “ain’t gonna happen” according to their plans, the guy (or guys) that has to pee real bad, says something like “Oh, SH**” then spreads his legs wide and either looks down or has a faraway gaze as Bobby and I watch light-colored levis turn a darker color in almost an instant. A dark round spot appears right in the fly area, sometimes with pee shooting out through the denim material. The spot becomes a patch, ever-growing, usually down one leg to the knee. The cloth is always tighter in the lower thigh, so the pee usually drips down straight onto the ground in a constant, steady stream, into a growing yellow puddle. His pals look on in amazement, with words like “Holy Je-*-*-*!” as their buddy totally wets his pants, right out there in public! Sometimes, one guy looks up, and sees Bobby and me leaning over the railing, staring at the sight! We wave at them, and Bobby likes to grab the crotch of his own tight faded jeans, indicating he could use a piss, too! Bobby is something of a renegade, with longish blond curls, and usually a choker on his neck, made prominent by a tight white polo shirt, open wide at his neck.

Usually, at this point, the guys hustle the wetter into the car, and drive off quickly, leaving the tires to make wet streaks on the asphalt as they run through the little yellow puddle that was between the wetter’s legs. Bobby and I end up laughing hysterically, sometimes to the point where either of us, if not both, end up peeing in our own tight faded denim!

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