This is the continuation of a story which begins here: http://www.wetpantsboy.com/stories/bens-wet-evening/
“Hey, better drink up quick then!” said Marcus. “It’s not far and there’s
at least three cans each here!”
Ring-pulls were popped and all the rowing team in the back knocked back
their drinks gratefully. “Go on, there’s enough for you three too,” said
Matthew to Rob, Ferris and Ben who were waiting politely. “Don’t listen
to Rodge, the club budget’s fine for extending to a few good friends.”
“Thanks a lot,” smiled Rob and chose a beer. “Cheers,” said Ferris, picking
the same and raising the can in Matthew’s direction before pulling the ring.
Ben was sitting right next to Matthew but out of reach of the trays of
cans at the moment. “What would you like, Ben?” asked Matthew, resting his
hand on Ben’s knee for a moment.
“Shandy please,” smiled Ben. The two of them held eye-contact for a moment.
“Hope this is a great birthday party for you,” Ben added shyly.
“Thanks, man,” said Matthew, smiling back. He passed Ben a can of shandy.
The conversation slowed a little as the guys drank. Marcus looked out of the
window. “Hey we’ll be there in a minute. Quick, drink up!”
More cans were grabbed and popped open in the back. The club-house was just
beyond the next roundabout. Twyford’s rowing stars threw back their
heads and gulped down the cool liquids. The taxi-bus approached the roundabout
and waited at the lights.
Matthew passed a can forward to his cox in the front. “Drink up Rodge!” he
urged, keeping the team camaradie going.
“Nah, let it last the journey,” replied Rodge absently. He had been quietly
studying a map of where they were going, oblivious to the hurried drinking-up
operation which was going on behind him. Matthew looked puzzled.
The lights changed to green and the minibus started forward onto the
roundabout. “Here’s the club-house, yeah!” said Brad. “Thank the lord, I’m
gagging for a piss!” he added.
“You’re not the only one!” agreed Marcus. “Me too,” said Jonathan. Wai-Chan
touched his crotch too in anticipation of the needed toilet break.
But the minibus omitted the expected turn-off and took the next roundabout
exit, the M4 motorway. Marcus gaped at the familiar blue “no stopping” sign
as they passed it and the minibus started to gather speed. “Hey, where are we
going?” he called to the front. “That was the club back there, wasn’t it?”
“You burke!” said Rodge. “Did you think we were celebrating our esteemed
captain’s birthday in our own little shit-hole clubhouse? The Chippenham
club is hosting us! They’re open all night and they’ve got proper
“Chippenham!?” echoed Marcus.
“Hey, that’s a nice club there,” said Matthew enthusiastically. “Sorry guys,
slow down the drinking,” he added to his team mates. “We’ve got to make it
last for an hour or so after all!”
“Sounds good,” agreed Rob. “Yeah, sounds an interesting journey,” said
The minibus pulled out into the stream of M4 traffic.
There was a short silence.
Matthew nodded his head. “That’s right,” he replied to Ferris’ remark about
it being an interesting journey without particularly reading anything into
his comment. “We can talk about team tactics and such, maybe get to know
about these three guys who’ve joined us, and whatever. Who knows, maybe they’d
be interested in helping us out with strong arms when we’re a man short in
the boat?” he prattled lightly to the whole minibus generally. He seemed at
pains to keep everyone light-hearted and was in any case evidently still on
a high over this unexpected birthday party for him. “Everyone alright here?”
he continued. “All looking forward to the party?”
He was casting his eyes round his friends and team-mates and smiling
brightly. As his eyes rested on Brad, the dark-haired lad in white shorts,
Matthew’s mind suddenly registered what his team-mate had said a minute or
so before on the roundabout. “Hey, Brad,” he said with a sudden look of
concern, “did you just say you were gagging for a piss, man?”
Rodge turned round to face everyone from the front seat before Brad could
answer. “I hope he didn’t! I warned everyone to use the gents before we left
the Golden Jug and I thought you all did. You don’t really have to piss again
already, do you Brad?” he asked in a slightly accusing tone.
Everyone in the minibus turned to look at Brad. It seemed that all of them
were keen to know the answer to this question.
Brad seemed to flush and his answer came back defensively. “Of course I
don’t! I’m not a kid you know. I was only joking.”
Various faces seem to fall as he said that. Everyone looked back at Rodge who
continued in an emphatic, challenging tone: “Does anyone in this minibus need
There was complete silence. Everyone looked across at everyone else all
hoping that someone else would speak up. No-one did.
“Good, that’s alright then. We’ll be there in an hour or so, they’re expecting
us at midnight so hopefully we shouldn’t be too late…” (it was about eleven-
fifteen) “…and they’ve laid on all the food, drink and entertainment for
you all. Enjoy!” And he turned back round in his seat and continued looking
at the street map of Chippenham which he was studying using a torch-light
in the front.
Matthew looked at his other team-mates. “You were all in the Golden Jug?”
he asked to no-one in particular. There was a bit of nodding. No-one except
Matthew seemed particularly talkative at the moment. “What were you doing
there?” He looked at Marcus for a response.
“Having a drink before we went on to pick you up,” Marcus replied. “What do
you think we were doing in a pub?” he added with a slight touch of testiness
which, Ben thought, did not seem quite appropriate considering that Matthew
was obviously only trying to keep the atmosphere light.
Matthew was silent for a moment but Rodge filled the gap by remarking, “Yeah,
I thought the funds would extend to a few beers for your lads, Matthew.
Sorry we left you out of that bit, but you were at that party.”
“Oh yeah, no problem!” said Matthew. He gave up trying to engage his team-mates
in chat and turned to Ben sitting next to him. “You OK, Ben?”
“Yeah.” Ben tried to smile at Matthew again – he had really taken to this
lad – but he felt the smile appearing a little strained on his face. Ben
was inwardly worrying a little. He could feel a bit of pressure in his
bladder which he had only noticed as they had unexpectedly joined this
motorway when he and most of the others had expected that they were arriving.
And he had just downed two cans of shandy in quick succession. He looked
at the empty cans, frowned, then tested his bladder again. The message he
got back was the type where you would normally get up and go to the toilet
if you were at home, either right now or in the next few minutes or so. He
touched himself on the crotch gently. His palm felt a little damp from sweat.
His motion with his hand seemed to draw Matthew’s attention to the jeans
that Ben was wearing, incidentally a pair which had been borrowed from
Rob earlier that evening. Embarrassed, he moved his hand back off his
crotch. Matthew started complimenting Ben on the style of his clothes, and
Ben smiled weakly and nodded his thanks, avoiding Rob’s eye. Matthew prattled
on to Ben about where he bought his own clothes, and Ben half-listened in
silence, nodding occasionally. Hardly anyone else was saying anything much.
Meanwhile Ferris was casting a surreptitious eye over Jonathan and staring
at this guy’s crotch without being too obvious. Jonathan was the blond
haired guy who also had a touch of blond fuzz around his chin which gave him
an erotically masculine image. Ferris had already checked out Brad and
Wai-Chan who he could see easily by looking forwards: both of them were
sitting quietly though neither was making any obvious motion in their seats,
though Wai-Chan had one of his black-trousered legs crossed over the other.
Jonathan however, seated with Ferris at the back of the minibus but on the
other side of the vehicle, was giving Ferris an intense hard-on. He was
sitting slightly sideways in the seat facing inwards – which helped Ferris
observe him because it put his crotch in full view and Ferris could watch
while apparently looking forwards – and his posture seemed slightly twisted
and rather uncomfortable. He was making occasional very subtle motions which
his pelvis, lifting his weight slightly off the seat each time and
simultaneously moving his legs slightly inwards and back out again as he did
so, seeming to strain his buttocks and thigh muscles each time. His crotch
was beautiful, thought Ferris. The white shorts of the rowing kit were
stretched across the protruberance where his privates were and this bulge
was accentuated each time Jonathan seemed to strain. Ferris watched in
fascination and felt tingling in his own groin as he thought what Jonathan’s
bulge would look like if some piss would suddenly ooze through. He watched
as Jonathan looked at the watch on his wrist, touching a button to activate
its light to look at the time. Ferris looked at his own watch: just after
eleven-thirty, so there was a good 45 minutes to go. He continued to watch
the spectacle which was engrossing him: plenty of time left to enjoy.
Rob’s attention meanwhile was on Marcus, sitting in full view on his left.
This guy was somewhat perched forwards on his seat, his elbows resting on the
back of the seat in front of him, and he was continually looking out of the
side window as if checking up on where they were all the time. Rob watched his
bare legs, covered in a light dusting of hair, knocking rhythmically in and
out, on and on. Just as Rob was about to shift his gaze to some of the
other guys he was suddenly rewarded when Marcus seemed to tense up suddenly,
stopped his leg-knocking for a moment, and grabbed himself between his
legs, holding for about five seconds before releasing his dick again and
returning to the rhythmic leg-motions.
At this point the traffic on the road seemed to become heavier, the driver
slowed down, and everyone could see the brake-lights of vehicles in front
activate. Warning signs about road-works were on the side of the road as they
passed and a temporary speed limit was in force. According to the signs two
of the three lanes were blocked off ahead and a contra-flow system was in
operation whereby some of the traffic would use a temporary lane on the
other carriageway. As the minibus gradually slowed to a crawl and changed
lanes there was the sound of some quiet groans from a few of the guys.
“Traffic’s heavy for a saturday isn’t it?” remarked Rodge to the driver.
“Yes. It’s all the party revellers like you on their night out boogying,”
said the driver lightly. It was clear he wanted to seem friendly to the
younger guys and on their level, but his use of a seventies’ expression for
dancing sounded vaguely comical and rather emphasised the age difference.
No-one commented on this, however. Instead the silence which greeted the
driver’s statement bordered on the oppressive.
The silence was broken by Brad. At this point they were at a crawl, all
drivers being forced to let other vehicles pull over across the lanes as
the roadworks were approached. Brad had not spoken since Rodge had accusingly
asked him if he really needed a piss and he had dismissed that. Now he
seemed to gulp and stammer slightly as he made what, on the face of it, was
simply a conversational question. “Um… isn’t the… isn’t the Membury
service station coming up somewhere around here?” he asked.
Various lads looked up at once, some looking out of the window, others at
Rodge who was evidently the route planner in the minibus as well as the
one who determined which direction their boat took when they were in action.
“Yeah, why do you ask?” said Rodge.
“Um… could we get out and stretch our legs for a short time at Membury?
It’s a bit cramped in this minibus,” said Brad.
Immediately there was a clamour of agreement from others. “Yeah, let’s have
a walk around,” and “I wanna get a sandwich at the shop” said two of the
“Sandwich?” echoed Rodge. “There’s a banquet laid on at the club! And we’re
a bit late, we’re not going to make it for midnight, so we need to press
on” he added.
But the pleas about leg-cramp and hunger continued, so Rodge turned to
the driver. “Alright. Could you pull in at Membury then please, Mr. Vernon,
just for a few minutes?” he asked.
Membury was a general 24-hour service-area with fuel, food and toilets.
The atmosphere in the bus seemed to leap up a few notches as various lads
strained forward to hear Mr. Vernon’s reply.
“But it’s shut because of the roadworks,” said the driver. “It’s only open
on the other side.”
Sure enough, the minibus was just approaching a temporary yellow sign
positioned next to the works area which they were passing at a crawl. It
read: “Membury services Westbound closed. Access to Eastbound services at
“It’s alright, look!” piped up Marcus. “You can get to the Eastbound side!”
“Yes,” said the driver, but that means joining the motorway going the other
way. Then afterwards we have to turn again and get back through this
contraflow yet again.”
That was enough for Rodge. “Well, we’re certainly not doing that! We’ll be
on the road all night if we do! Just stretch your legs out inside the bus,
for goodness sake. We’ll be arriving soon,” he added with an air of
finality, though the continued stop-start crawl as the minibus picked its
way through the dense traffic next to the dug-up, cordoned off section
of road did nothing to encourage anyone in the minibus about the truth of
his last sentence. An air of tense moodiness returned and sounds of
uncomfortable shiftings of position filled the air. Even Matthew had gone
Ferris pushed on his aching erection and looked back over at Jonathan. The
bulge on the blond fuzzed bloke’s white shorts still looked bone-dry but
the tension of his subtle pelvic and leg movements seemed more desperate
than before. Ferris felt his heart quicken. Then he noticed that Jonathan
was fingering one of the two empty cider cans in front of him and touching
the zipper of the shorts with a furtive but somehow purposeful air, as if
he was on the point of deciding on something. In a moment Ferris realised
what the lad was thinking about.
“Hey Rob,” he called forward to his new friend, breaking the silence in the
bus. “Collect the empty cans up will you, let’s make this minibus a bit
“Yes please, son,” said Mr. Vernon at once. “Saves me the trouble when you’re
all enjoying yourselves at the club.”
Rob, aroused from his further ogling of Marcus who was now combining the
continued rhythmic leg-knocking with a newly adopted posture whereby his
hands were nestled up between his legs instead of resting on the seat-back
in front, suddenly realised what Ferris was getting at. “Sure!” he said,
“Pass us your empties everyone!”, and reached over to confiscate each lad’s
last hope of relieving himself before they got out of the minibus.
Ferris reached across to take the two cider cans from Jonathan before he
could do anything to stop him and started to efficiently crush them in his
hands. “Flatten them so that they don’t take up rubbish space,” he called
“Thanks lads, there’s a plastic bag for rubbish down behind my seat,” said
Matthew handed his own two beer cans and Ben’s shandy ones to Rob who
crushed them and placed them with the others in the rubbish. Then he
looked at his new friend once again, the one who had helped him so intimately
back at the party and who seemed to stir feelings in him which he didn’t
fully understand but which made him want more of Ben’s company in a way
he hadn’t experienced before with a mate. Somehow Ben did not seem to be
returning the friendliness in the same way as he had done earlier on.
Matthew looked at him sadly, then started a little as he noticed that his
friend seemed to be looking distressed.
He immediately touched Ben on the leg, and some hidden sense warned him to
whisper his next question out of earshot of anyone else. “Ben, are you OK?
What’s the matter?”
Ben did not respond for a moment. Matthew’s concern grew to alarm. He stared
at Ben wondering if he was ill for a moment. Then Ben moved to whisper into
“Matthew, I’m absolutely dying to go to the toilet. I think I’m about to piss
Matthew stared back at him, not knowing what to say. Ben covered his crotch
with his hands, leant slightly forward in his seat and looked out of the
window. The minibus was picking its way along the temporary opposite-direction
lane of the other carriageway. They were just passing the Membury service area
with its longed for toilets, unreachable as they drove through the mess of
Matthew rested his hand on his distraught friend’s arm, still unable to come
with a helpful response.
In the back, Jonathan watched aghast as his two cider cans disappeared,
crushed flat into the rubbish bag. For the first time since Ferris had
started watching him, he suddenly pushed both his hands down on the front
of the shorts whose every little hillock had been, unbeknown to him, closely
studied by the unfamiliar bloke on the other side of the bus. Ferris drew
his own breath and held it as he watched Jonathan strain in that crotch-
holding position to the extent of rising slightly out of his seat. Then
Jonathan’s whole body seemed to shake slightly.
But the next voice that anyone heard was Brad’s.
“Um… ummm…” he began. A few heads turned to look in Brad’s direction.
“Guys, I’m sorry but I’ve got a big problem here. Mr. Vernon, could you
possibly pull over somewhere. I… umm… I need a quick toilet stop. It’s
very very urgent.”
No-one laughed. Everyone turned towards the driver and listened for his
Mr. Vernon replied in a matter-of-fact and professional tone as he continued
to concentrate on steering the bus as it followed a long line of other
vehicles through the narrowed single lane on the “wrong” side of the
“Obviously we can’t stop right now,” he said. The nearest point where we can
leave the M4 is the Swindon junction, about five minutes further on. That’s
where we can turn to get back to Membury Eastbound, or I guess I can just find
somewhere to stop at the junction and let you out for a minute if it’s safe.
But you know, Chippenham is not that far now, maybe thirty minutes. And the
traffic’s speeded up now, we’ll get through without problems I think. Can you
just hold on till Chippenham, perhaps, son?” There was no trace of irritation
in the driver’s voice. He was evidently used to this sort of situation from
his profession of driving people around and he was in any case being paid
well for a night’s work. It did not matter to him how much of the night he
This attitude was clearly not shared by Rodge in the seat next to the driver.
He looked round in exasperation at Brad, who was sitting very still on the
edge of his seat with his legs pressed tightly together and with a panicked
expression on his face. Glaring at Brad, Rodge waited for the lad to answer
the driver’s question about holding till Chippenham. It was after all the
same question he would have asked Brad too.
Everyone in the minibus looked back at Brad, waiting for the long-standing
team-mate to respond. He looked stricken.
“Can you stop and let me out at the Swindon turn please?” he just said
quietly. “I can’t wait.”
“I can take that exit and we can see if there is a safe spot to let you out
there,” said Mr. Vernon. “Probably I’ll have to drive along the road towards
Swindon town a little way first because it’s not safe to wait on the
roundabout. Then come back to the M4 after you’ve done what you have to.”
Rodge lost his temper at this point. “Oh, then we’ll be fine and late!” he
said in frustration. “You really are a nuisance!” he said to Brad. “You’re
the only one. Everyone else sorted themselves out before the journey. Why
Brad avoided Rodge’s question. The situation he was in demanded prioritising
matters. “Mr. Vernon, could you just stop on the hard shoulder as soon as
we’re back on the other carriageway?” he said desperately. “I don’t actually
think I can wait till the junction.”
“Sorry, that’s illegal and very dangerous,” said the driver.
“Yes it is,” agreed Rodge, “and of course you can wait a few minutes till
the junction. Don’t be ridiculous. You can wait five minutes, can’t you?”
Brad simply said: “Please just stop as soon as possible,” and continued to
sit with his legs tightly pressed together and his fists clenched in
Rodge sighed heavily then addressed the other guys. “I don’t know, it seems
ridiculous to go out of our way now just for Brad when we’re nearly there.
No-one else needs a stop do they?”
“Can I get out for a wank?” said Ferris in reply. Rob and Matthew both
tittered at this but no-one else seemed in the mood for jokes. And no-one
else indicated any genuine need.
“No, there’s a time and a place for that,” replied Rodge humourlessly. “Well
since no-one else needs the toilet Brad can just wait until…” he began.
But Matthew immediately leaned forward and said to Rodge in a low voice:
“Um, Rodge, Ben’s got to pee very badly as well. He’s just too scared to say.
We really are going to have to stop.”
Rodge nodded wearily without giving the same hard time to Ben as he had given
to Brad. “Alright then,” he muttered back. Then he addressed the driver:
“Sorry, Mr. Vernon, it seems that two people are desperate for the toilet.
Can you come off and stop at the next junction?”
Matthew turned to Ben and murmured quietly: “We’re stopping at the Swindon
turn in five minutes. Jump out and pee then. Is five minutes OK?”
Ben smiled and nodded in Matthew’s direction. The panic, which had been
building up during the last ten to fifteen minutes as he had felt the
shandy steadily moving down through him and filling his bladder leading him
to the conclusion that he would probably have to ask them to stop the minibus
before Chippenham, had now receded as it seemed that they would stop for Brad.
Ben knew he needed to pee very badly and could not last the rest of the
journey, but he also felt that five minutes, or maybe seven if they had to
drive a little way from the junction, was manageable. The feeling of relief
that they would stop and he could pee in a few minutes was almost orgasmic.
No-one spoke for the next few minutes. With no further hold-ups they
left the road-works behind them and soon the signs announcing imminent
arrival at the Swindon turn-off came into view. As the minibus prepared
to leave the motorway Rodge quietly indicated to Ben that he should leave
his seat and go to crouch next to Brad, who was positioned by the side
door, ready to get out quickly with him. Ben did so, feeling ready to burst
but knowing he was going to make it and still in a state of thanking his
lucky stars that it would be alright after all. Marcus, Wai-Chan and
Jonathan were all poised to spring up out of their seats as well, though in
their cases it was in a more subtle way since none of them had admitted
their extreme desperation. All three were intending to make use of the
pit-stop with a “might as well go too” attitude.
The minibus took the exit, slowed down and entered the roundabout. The
driver chose the town by-pass road which turned out to be another major
highway on which stopping was illegal. Brad, with Ben now hovering next
to him, suddenly called out again: “Stop, please stop! I can’t hold on
anymore. I’ll do it on the seat if you don’t stop now!”
“It’s extremely dangerous to stop here,” said the driver. “Look,” he said
braking sharply, “get out here quickly. I’ll stop to let you out then drive
on and turn back as soon as I can. You jump out sharp, do what you have to
do, then cross the road and wait for us to come back. Stand somewhere where
you can get back in quickly. If you aren’t ready to jump straight back in,
you’ll be spending the night here on the road. Understood?”
Five guys poised themselves to leap out of their seats and exit. The minibus
slowed down and pulled to the side as another vehicle overtook with a blast
of its horn. Rodge called out: “Just Brad and Ben, as quick as you can!”
Immediately Jonathan, Wai-Chan and Marcus started clamouring: “I need to
pee as well!” and “Hey, I want to get out too!”
“No!” said Rodge firmly. “Too dangerous, it’s the emergency cases only.
Rob, help them with the door please,” he added as the bus shuddered to a
stop and the driver prepared to accelerate away again. Rob hauled the
side door open, Brad and Ben jumped out, and before Marcus could dart
round and join them he was flinging the door back shut again. Jonathan jumped
up and attempted to open the two back doors, but the unfamiliar guy sitting
at the back with him got in his way, saying “Hey, sit down, there’s no
time for that!”. The driver brought the clutch up with a jerk and the minibus
accelerated away again without Brad and Ben.
As Ben felt the cool night air blast in his face and chill his body, his
bladder nearly gave way. Staggering forwards to the far side of the grass
verge he struggled with the unfamiliar zipper of Rob’s jeans and managed
to extract his cock before releasing his torrent. Before his cock was out
he could hear Brad behind him going “Unnnnggghhhh!! Aaaagggh!!” and the
sound of Brad’s explosive piss hitting the ground. Brad had not even tried
to move forward away from the traffic on the road. Both lads blasted their
piss-streams onto the ground, on and on.
Finally Ben finished pissing, zipped up and turned round. Brad was still
going strong, a thick stream cascading onto the ground in front of him.
Gradually Brad’s piss dwindled and stopped, but by then it was well over a
minute since they’d got out for their much-needed leaks. “Quick, we need to
get across the road before they get back here!” said Ben urgently.
Brad nodded, hastily tucked his still dripping cock back in his shorts and
underwear, and the two of them trotted across to the other side. Ben picked
a spot under a street light where they could be seen easily and the two
guys then looked at each other properly for the first time.
“Oh Christ, what a relief,” said Brad faintly.
“Yeah, me too,” agreed Ben. “I thought I was going to piss myself in the
bus. Thank God you had to go as well.”
Brad nodded. But he still seemed rather upset which was a contrast to Ben’s
own feelings of profound relief and exuberance that the disaster which he
had feared had been averted. There was a silence.
“Hey, Brad, you didn’t really make it, did you?” said Ben suddenly. He was
looking at Brad’s white team shorts in the light from the street lamp. They
were soaking wet down the left side at the front. Ben glanced round to look
at Brad’s backside and that was wet too in an even larger area underneath
and round his buttocks. As Ben watched a couple of drips of piss fell
from Brad’s shorts onto the ground.
Brad looked down at himself as well. “I couldn’t help it,” he said quietly.
“I couldn’t wait any longer when we left the motorway and I started doing
it before we stopped. I’m worried I’ve wet the seat of the minibus too. Oh
hell, I’m in a terrible mess.”
He seemed so upset about it that Ben reached out and rubbed the lad gently
on his back. “Look, don’t worry, it happens to all guys sometimes,” he said.
“Would you believe it, I wet myself this evening too. At the party. Rob
had to lend me some spare jeans. These are Rob’s clothes,” he added,
indicating the stylish jeans and shirt he was wearing.
Brad seemed to cheer up a little at this surprising admission from the
guy that Matthew was friendly with. He looked at Ben. “Really? You wet
yourself too?” Ben nodded. “How did it happen?” asked Brad.
Ben started to explain, but at this moment a horn sounded from an approaching
vehicle. It was the minibus. It screeched to a halt beside the two waiting
lads and the side door opened. Ben and Brad jumped back in, Rob slammed the
door shut, and they were off again back towards the M4 motorway.
Meanwhile there was a heated argument taking place between Rodge and three of
the other team members…
Ben took his seat next to Matthew in the rapidly accelerating vehicle taking
no notice for the moment of Rodge in the front who was berating an apparently
almost tearful Jonathan who was right at the back next to Ferris. Ben’s
immediate feelings were firstly of thankfulness that the arrival of the
minibus had excused him from continuing the convoluted account of his
embarassing accident at the party to Brad (who he had only been trying to
make feel better), and secondly of a strong desire to chat to Matthew and
get to know him better now that he could concentrate on that once again.
He smiled broadly at Matthew as he sat down.
Matthew’s friendly greeting “Alright, Ben” and the arm he wrapped round Ben
sent warm waves through Ben’s body as he felt the relief once again of his
emptied bladder and the pleasurable prospect of spending the rest of the
night in Matthew’s company at the latter’s birthday party. As he nestled
next to Matthew he found himself remembering the way he had helped Matthew
balance on the windowsill and pee through the small opening of the air vent
earlier that evening. Ben’s awareness that these thoughts plus the sheer
proximity of Matthew next to him were causing him a major hard-on in his
jeans was sounding a vague alarm-bell in the back of his mind, but he was
pushing this back down again as something he did not want to deal with
right now. He simply rubbed Matthew’s knee in a friendly fashion, murmured
“hey, Matthew”, and further enjoyed the feeling of Matthew’s warm body
sitting next to him.
Rodge was apparently finishing a lengthy, irritable tirade about how late
they were already, mainly directed at the blond-haired guy at the back with
the equally blond fuzz round his chin. Ben turned round to look at
Jonathan who was evidently at the centre of attention. He saw that Ferris
had moved across to the previously empty seat so that he was now seated
right next to the blond team-member and apparently talking to him in earnest,
maybe encouraging him about something. Ben turned back to look at Matthew
with a questioning expression.
“They all need to piss,” said Matthew to Ben. “Jonathan, Marcus and Wai-Chan.
They wanted to get out with you. Now they’ve got to wait till we get there.”
Ben nodded. He felt his heart beat faster as he thought about this. Matthew
continued quietly: “I want to pee rather badly as well actually but I’ll just
have to wait because Rodge really isn’t going to let us stop again.”
Ben’s erection pushed hard against the inside of the jeans. He found himself
saying “well, let me know if I can help again,” then flushed furiously and
wished he hadn’t as Matthew was silent for a few seconds. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t
mean to…” began Ben, but Matthew smiled and interrupted: “It’s okay, no
problem. You won’t have to hold me against the window this time, I can wait
the half hour till we arrive. I hope so anyway. I don’t know about the others
They had arrived back at the roundabout and the driver had stopped to give
way. The roar of the non-stop traffic could be heard on the M4 which they
were preparing to join again. It was Wai-Chan who spoke next. “Sorry, I’ve
got to get out, just let me out, I’ll be one minute,” he spoke out in a
quavery voice. No-one answered him: Rodge had used up all the sarcasm in his
arsenal and the subject appeared to be definitively closed. The minibus moved
off again almost at once, took the Bristol exit and passed the no-stopping
sign. No-one needed to say it because everyone knew: you held your piss for
half an hour or you… no, you held your piss, the alternative was unthinkable.
As the minibus joined the stream of motorway traffic once more with Chippenham
sports club as its next stop, Ferris realised that the words of encouragement,
which he was muttering to this gorgeous blond lad who had been squirming and
trembling in his seat next to him, were about to become superfluous. Jonathan
had given up trying to hide his desperation, which Ferris had noticed long
before on this journey, at the point when Brad and Ben were let out for their
piss. He had then been the most vocal in his argument with Rodge about
needing a leak and had only stopped when Rodge had become positively
threatening in his refusal to make the driver stop again. Now, with the
possibility of another stop completely banished, it appeared that for this
guy it was too late now. He had stopped squirming, was now sitting rigidly
in a slightly bent-forward position and was looking down at his lap. Ferris
could smell the sharp, familiar aroma of fresh hot piss and he could hear
the soft, steady hissing sound as it filled Jonathan’s shorts and soaked
into the seat. “Is it too late, man?” he asked the blond guy quietly. As
Jonathan gave no answer, he gently touched the guy at the top of his thigh
and felt the hot pee running around his fingers as Jonathan continued
soaking himself. Meekly submitting to being felt like that, Jonathan gave in
to his unstoppable urge. Gradually he managed to regain control, but most
of his bladder-contents was now all over himself and in the seat.
No-one commented directly on the acrid smell in the minibus as they approached
the Chippenham turn-off. Both Rodge and the driver did, however, open their
windows to let in fresh air, and the driver remarked as tactfully as possible
that the rowing club would be billed for the steam-cleaning that would be
needed for any of the seats. Rodge and Matthew groaned at this but were
hardly in any position to argue.
At around half-past twelve the minibus entered Chippenham town centre and
headed for the sports complex with Rodge navigating. Ben could feel Matthew
tensing up and squirming next to him. Despite the now obvious fact that
certain occupants of the vehicle had wet themselves, Matthew was clearly
not allowing this to affect his own struggle to avoid soaking his smart
beige trousers. “You okay, Matthew?” asked Ben quietly. “I’m absolutely
bursting, man,” came the reply. “I’ve got to run for it as soon as we get
out,” Matthew added.
Rob was in earshot. He added, for Matthew’s benefit, “You’re not the only
one Matthew. I’m almost doing it in my jeans. You’ll have to show me where
the gents is there before it’s too late.”
“Just shut up about it, will you?” came Marcus’ irritable voice from the
other side of the vehicle. He had, under Rob’s close scrutiny, lost the
battle some ten minutes earlier and completely pissed his pants. Unlike
Jonathan’s less obvious accident before, Marcus had been sitting forward
so that his pee had poured straight through his briefs and shorts and splattered
loudly onto the floor of the minibus. The head-turns that this had attracted
had made his humiliation complete.
The inquisitive observers of Wai-Chan, too, had been rewarded when, with
some fifteen minutes still to go in the journey, he had suddenly stopped
his bouncing on the seat, opened his black trouser-clad legs wide, and
wet himself with an involuntary sigh that was apparent to everyone. His
pee had audibly hissed into his trousers and had continued to do so for
a full embarrassing minute.
Meanwhile Rodge was making a telephone call on his mobile. “Mike, it’s
Rodge. We’re arriving in a few minutes. Can you get everyone ready outside?”
After a pause he continued, “No, that’s fine, get them all out there now
ready. We’ll go straight ahead with the ceremonial stuff and all that. See
you in a couple of minutes. Bye.”
“Ceremonial stuff?” echoed Matthew as he struggled to hold his pee in. Ben
felt Matthew’s legs knocking back and forth. “What’s happening?” Matthew asked.
“You’ll see soon, birthday boy,” said Rodge, turning round to wink at him.
“Matthew, which way do I go to get to the toilet when we’re there?” said
Rob to Matthew urgently. “Is it obvious when we’re in the building?”
“Yeah, just follow me when we’re there,” replied Matthew. “I’m heading
straight that way!”
“Nearly there, Matthew,” said Ben softly to him. He could sense his new
friend’s anxious urgency. Once more the incredible memory came back to him
of the way he had supported Matthew on the window ledge and held his cock
for him while he peed the living daylights out of himself through the air
vent in Rob’s room. Ben could not understand why he was so aroused by this
memory and by Matthew’s desperation sitting next to him now, but his erection
was as rock-hard as it had been for the last half hour and he simply couldn’t
banish the powerful images from his mind. He gazed at Matthew’s beige-trousered
crotch now, dimly visible from the street lights, and found himself longing
to grasp Matthew there and squeeze his cock for him to help him hold back
his pee now.
A minute later they rolled up at a large sports hall. Entering the car-park
the Twyford team and its new hangers-on were treated to a surprising
spectacle. Lined up ready to greet the newcomers was another team of lads
all dressed in identical teeshirts of an orange colour in contrast to
the Twyford team’s white. Some of the five or six lads were wearing blue
shorts to go with the outfit, others were in ordinary jeans or trousers.
All the lads had beer bottles from which they were swigging freely, and
all were gesturing towards the arriving minibus with a manner which was
both welcoming and in rivalry at the same time. Meanwhile a man in a suit
who was clearly the manager of the sports club was directing the orange-shirted
guys into an area in front of another man with a camera.
“Hey, it’s the Avon rowing team! They’re here too! Our biggest rivals!” said
Matthew in awe despite his urgent need to relieve himself.
“Yep,” said Rodge. “They’re here to celebrate your birthday too! It’s all
gonna be one big party!”
The minibus stopped right next to the greeting throng and everyone opened the
doors. “Welcome, welcome!” said the man in the suit who had walked forward
to greet everyone. He had a booming voice and was addressing the newcomers
and the Avon team alike. “Your photographer is ready! Twyford team please join
the Avon team and have your photograph taken! Captains together at the front
please, especially for the Twyford captain who is celebrating his birthday
today! Congratulations, and many happy returns!”
Cheers sounded from the Avon rowing team who raised their beer bottles in
salute. The minibus occupants alighted uncertainly.