“We’re not five-year-olds, you know,” muttered Richard to the Real Ale club’s
president Tom in response to Tom’s final patronising warning about no stops
on the way back, but he nonetheless heeded it by heading for the mens’
toilets along with the others. There were five minutes to go before the
agreed rendez-vous time which would mark the end of their outing.
“No, I know, but I’m only trying to avoid the problems we had after last
year’s trip,” replied Tom, as he also headed for a final pee with the others
before they boarded the bus back to their college. “This time we really
aren’t stopping and anyone who needs a leak because they haven’t sorted
themselves out can just sit there and suffer. I’m serious.”
Tom was referring to the previous year’s student society outing to this same
brewery for its annual open day allowing enthusiasts to observe its operation
and, with appropriate moderation, sample its products. This latter privelege
had been rather freely indulged by the lads, appropriately enough since it
was considered the highlight of the visit, but its effects on the bladders of
some of the guys in the all-male group had become so acute on the journey back
that some of them could not wait any longer and had grouped together to insist
that the driver stop the bus on the highway with just 20 minutes of the
journey to go.
“I assume that applies to you too if the beer goes straight through your
system, Tom?” enquired Jonathan pointedly, holding the door of the men’s
room open for him. Jonathan could recall the previous year’s return journey
too: while Tom had not been amongst the worst of the slightly drunk, loutish
lads haranguing the driver to stop because they all needed to piss so badly,
Jonathan had noticed that Tom too had availed himself of the opportunity to
jump out and let it all go when the bus had finally pulled up in the middle of
nowhere at the side of the road.
“Last year we all forgot the time and had to run straight for the bus when
the driver threatened to leave without us, remember?” replied Tom. “No-one had
time to pee first. I’m just making sure that doesn’t happen this time. You
can’t insist on a stop in a journey which only lasts an hour and a quarter.”
All the urinals were now in use by members of the Real Ale club, and Tom
waited patiently behind Jonathan who was sighing slightly as he blasted a
stream of clear beer-piss into the trough.
Within a few minutes all the lads had finished their last-minute pee and were
assembling in the carpark outside as the bus approached and pulled up next
to them. Tom, the last out of the toilets, joined them and did a quick
head-count. “We’re two short!” he announced. “Who’s not here?”
“Those two Chemistry second-years,” replied Richard.
“Yeah, Steve and Danny,” agreed another student, Mark. “Remember, Tom? They
thought the beer we got at the tasting was too miserly so they tagged along
with another group of people who went round after us so they could drink
more. That was twenty minutes ago, I guess they’re still with that group.”
“Or maybe they’ve started on a third round by now,” suggested another
student, Adrian, drily.
Steve and Danny were both newcomers to the club, and for both this was their
first time on this particular club activity. They had been as enthusiastic as
everyone else about the opportunity to sample stout, mild, porter and related
products at the place where it was being produced.
“Coh!” snorted Tom. “We’re supposed to be real ale connaisseurs, not lager
louts. Why didn’t they join the rugby club instead? That would be more their
scene. Any chance you could go and find them, Mark? The driver’s ready.”
Mark scurried off to round up the errant pair and Tom and the others all
filed into the hired bus, Tom asking the driver to wait just the few minutes
it would take for the stragglers to arrive. Everyone settled into their
seats and the bus was filled with the hum of conversation as the lads
relaxed and waited till they could get going.
A short time later Mark, Steve and Danny were observed trotting briskly out
of the building towards the bus, but under the eyes of the clubmates Danny
was seen to stop suddenly and say something which caused the other two to
turn and protest with him. A brief, slightly heated, exchange was followed
by the sight of Danny sprinting back into the building while Mark and Steve
continued to the bus, shaking their heads to each other in shared
“He’s not coming back with us, then?” asked Tom, referring to Danny, as
Steve and Mark climbed on board.
“He suddenly decided he needed a piss first,” replied Mark. “I told him the
bus was leaving but he insisted he wouldn’t be able to hold it till we got
“He’d really better hurry!” This was the driver whose patience appeared to
be wearing thin. Tom instantly apologised to him on behalf of the late
arrivals, pointedly looking Steve in the eye as he did so. Steve flushed
slightly, looked away and headed through the nearly full bus in search of
a free seat. There were no free twin seats left so he and his mate Danny
would be sitting apart for this journey.
Steve found a free seat towards the rear next to Jonathan and settled down
in it, relaxing for the first time since he and Danny were called abruptly
away from the beer tasting by Mark and called upon to run for the imminently
Jonathan looked up at the chemistry student benignly as Steve took his place
next to him. Steve was a handsome looking lad of about 22. Jonathan noticed
the stylish sky-blue denim jeans which Steve was wearing: lots of guys from
the chemistry department seemed to be wearing that colour this year instead
of the more traditional darker blue denim that the majority of students wore.
It was funny how unusual styles sometimes became fashionable within a single
college department, Jonathan thought. It was as if the guys wanted to show
what they were studying by wearing a sort of uniform.
Jonathan raised his eyebrows at Steve in greeting as Steve sat down next to him
and spread his light-blue clad legs comfortably over the seat. “Hi, it’s
Steve isn’t it? I’m Jonathan, third year History.”
“Hi Jonathan,” answered Steve. “Yes, I’ve seen you around the place before.”
“Is your friend alright?” asked Jonathan, referring to Danny as the reason why
they were still parked outside the brewery.
“I guess so,” answered Steve. “He just suddenly decided he needed the toilet.
Perhaps I really should have gone for a quick pee myself too. We didn’t
realise it was already time to go until that other guy rushed in and got us
out of the beer tasting room. I guess I’ll have to wait till we’re back now.
What have you got there?” he added, nodding towards a shopping bag which
Jonathan had with him.
Jonathan showed Steve the six-pack of stout which he had purchased at the
brewery shop when they had completed their tour. The two guys started
chatting about their obvious mutual interest which marked them out as
members of the Real Ale club. Shortly afterwards a slightly red-faced
Danny jumped through the doors of the bus muttering “sorry” to those within
earshot and settled down in a vacant seat near the front, and without further
ado they were off.
Jonathan was glad to have someone to chat to on the journey back. He was
the only history student on this outing and it was easy to feel a bit
isolated when all the others seemed to be amongst guys they already knew well.
Steve seemed to have plenty of knowledge about keg beer, too, and was
commending Jonathan on his choice of purchase.
“Yes, that’s very rich stuff,” Steve was saying. “You should drink that
slowly and enjoy it. Not with a meal or anything, it’s too good for that,
just by itself. I was having something very similar with Danny back at the
tasting just now: I think it might have been what you’ve got there. We were
knocking it back of course because it was free, but you’ll be able to
savour it back home. It’s just as good from the bottle as straight from the
“You two must be pretty tipsy then,” said Jonathan. “The rest of us just went
round the tasting once.” He started talking about the other types which he
and the others had tried during the outing and it turned out that Steve had
freely drunk from these samples too. The two lads chatted on, moving the
conversation to their respective studies when they had exhausted the subject
of beer. The bus trundled along and the minutes ticked by.
“How long have we been on the road?” said Steve suddenly when Jonathan came
to a natural pause after talking about the essays and assignments he was
required to hand in. Jonathan looked at his watch.
“Twenty, twenty-five minutes,” he replied. “Should be just under an hour left
till we’re back, I guess. What are you doing tonight, Steve? Do you fancy
sharing one of these bottles with me back at my flat? I could use some
company this evening.”
Steve looked back at him and nodded. “That would be nice, yeah,” he answered.
“Great,” said Jonathan. “I’m just five minutes walk from the campus where the
bus will drop us. We can walk from there together. Or will you need to go home
Steve hesitated. “I’ll definitely need to let all the beer I’ve drunk out
the other end pretty quickly, whatever we do,” he replied. He squirmed
slightly on the seat.
“You need a piss, you mean?” asked Jonathan.
“Yeah, I do. I wish this bus would go a bit faster,” replied Steve. “Don’t
you need to go as well?” he added, looking at Jonathan.
“No. Well a bit maybe. But I peed with everyone else before we left. Why
didn’t you run back when Danny did?” added Jonathan.
“I didn’t think I needed to go then,” sighed Steve. He adjusted himself with
one hand through his light blue jeans and looked out of the window, trying to
work out where they were. “Damn, I wish I had gone when he did. I should have
thought about all that beer we’d just had.”
Jonathan mumbled a sympathetic noise and changed the subject, asking Steve
about where he lived and who he lived with. Steve was much less talkative
than he had been and kept fidgeting anxiously in his seat as he watched
their progress back to their college town, but from his answers to Jonathan’s
questions it turned out that he lived in a rented house shared with four other
students, two males and two females, out in the suburbs of the town. “It’s
a half hour bus ride home from the campus,” he said. “You can bet I’m not
getting on that next bus before going for a piss first. I’d never make it
“Well, come straight back to my place then and pee there,” said Jonathan.
“Thanks, man, but I’m peeing the moment we’re off this bus. If it drops us
by the union building I’ll dash in there, otherwise it might have to be in
the nearest alleyway. How much longer do you think it’s going to be?”
Jonathan saw that Steve’s face was awash with concern as he asked this last
question, and he started to realise that Steve was in some serious discomfort
as he sat there, trapped on this bus and forced to hold his pee in until
they arrived. As Jonathan observed the subtle squirming and occasional
shifting of position in this lad’s struggle, he almost felt his own bladder
twitch in sympathy.
“Only forty minutes or so, we’ll be there before you know it,” Jonathan
replied. This was a distinct underestimate as he well knew, but he felt that
Steve could use a bit of encouragement here.
“Not that long, surely,” said Steve. “Oh come on, what are we waiting for now?”
The bus was stopped at traffic lights.
“Relax, Steve, cross your legs if that helps,” said Jonathan in an attempt
to calm him down since during the last few minutes Steve had seemed to become
distinctly agitated. “You’ll be okay, I’m sure of it. Hey, did you hear about
our head-of-department’s latest brush up with the police last week…?” And
Jonathan launched into an amusing account of the professor’s escapade
which had been a minor scandal in the History department. Steve crossed one
leg over the other, turning towards Jonathan to listen, and kept the pressure
at bay with one hand wedged in between the crossed legs so that his thumb
was able to press down on the crotch of his light blue jeans. He listened
to the history student’s lengthy account with some amusement since Jonathan
made an entertaining story of it. Some ten minutes passed as Steve listened.
“…The best part was when he then tried to pass off this twenty-one-year-old
girl as his wife,” Jonathan was recounting, reaching the crux of the tale,
and Steve burst out laughing, then immediately winced and squeezed his dick
shut between his crossed legs as he fought the pee back. Desperately he
uncrossed his legs again and squirmed in his seat, his hands kneading in
his groin as he tried to regain control. The smile on his face vanished and
was replaced by a troubled expression.
Jonathan paused in his story and asked “You okay, Steve?”
“Not really, are we almost there?” Steve answered in a low voice.
“Yeah, we’ll be arriving before you know it,” replied Jonathan, avoiding an
exact estimate since something in the tone of Steve’s question told him that
the prospect of waiting another half hour would be impossible for Steve to
cope with. “Hang in there man, you’re doing fine. Soon you can let it all
“But how long have I got to wait?” persisted Steve. “Oh, I’m busting myself,
I’ve got to go,” he continued. “I think I might have to ask them to stop.”
He was looking upset and rather panicked, so Jonathan reassured him as best
he could: “Look, Steve, you can hold it a lot longer than you think you can.
I promise you, it feels worse than it is. Just stop thinking about it and the
journey will go by quicker. Hey, tell me more about the difference between
porter and stout. What are their alcohol contents?”
Steve told him what he knew but quickly came to a halt, complaining: “I can’t
think about beer without thinking I’m about to wet my pants ‘cos of all I’ve
just drunk. Can’t we talk about something else?”
“Oh, sorry, tell me about your studying then,” said Jonathan, “and you’re not
going to wet your pants, you’re holding on just fine,” he added. “Okay, what
were your exam results like?”
Steve started explaining that he was going to have to retake one of them
because of a mix-up with the material that he should have studied. Jonathan
expressed astonishment that such a blunder could have occurred, and this got
Steve talking for the next five minutes about the background to this incident
and how many of his classmates were in the same situation. Jonathan followed
up with an account of a similar cock-up when some History essays had been
unaccountably mislaid by someone and never reached the examiner, but he
stopped short when he saw Steve look away, ram his hands desperately into
the crotch of his light blue jeans, and strain: he was clearly no longer paying
any attention to Jonathan’s story.
“You’re doing fine, man, hang in there,” said Jonathan lamely, as if the
evidence before his eyes indicated any such thing.
“I can’t wait any longer. I’ll have to ask them to stop,” said Steve when
the spasm had passed.
“No, they’re not stopping, mate,” said Jonathan gently. “Tom made that
perfectly clear before we left. And you CAN wait, it’s just a matter of
being confident about it.”
“No, I can’t wait,” said Steve quietly. “I’m serious, I’ve got to get off,”
Jonathan looked at his face, ascertaining that the situation was indeed
critical, and dropped his eyes to look at Steve’s jeans. These were bulging
slightly on one side where Steve had been rubbing frantically on his knob a
moment earlier, and extending around this area was a small but unmistakable
wet area where Steve had clearly leaked.
Jonathan touched Steve on the shoulder. “Okay, Steve, hold on while I get
the driver to stop for you,” he said and started to get up to move to the
“He won’t stop, you know that,” said Adrian to Jonathan. Adrian was sitting
on the seat opposite and had been listening to the conversation. “You’ll only
get an earful from Tom if you ask. Steve, you’ve GOT to hold it till we
Jonathan hesitated, then looked back at Steve. “Adrian’s right. You’ve got
to hold on. It’s really not long now and you can, you know.”
Steve answered this by exhaling suddenly as if he’d been holding his breath,
opening his light blue clad legs very wide so that one trembling limb was
actually pushing into Jonathan’s knee, and shuddering with his whole body
as the tension passed its breaking point and his bladder gave way. Under
the astonished gaze of various lads around them who had been listening to
the latter stages of the conversation and had been fully aware of Steve’s
plight, Steve let go and his jeans rapidly darkened in colour, beginning
to one side of his crotch and spreading out over his whole lap in a matter
of seconds. Steve drew another breath and groaned audibly as the piss
continued to bubble up visibly through his crotch and run over his lap,
simultaneously collecting underneath and soaking into the seat of the bus.
A buzz went round their area of the bus as various others became aware of
what was happening, and several guys stood up and crained their heads to
see the evidence. Jonathan instantly signalled to them with a finger on his
lips, warning them not to alert the bus driver or anyone else who might give
Steve hell for this. Fortunately everyone appeared to understand and the
glances that Steve was getting were largely sympathetic: possibly some of
the guys around were reminded about the previous year when they too had almost
pissed their pants before they had got the bus to stop, and they could
certainly appreciate the horrible experience that Steve was now enduring.
Jonathan, thinking quickly, removed his six-pack of beer from the plastic
bag ready to give this to Steve whose trembling, rapidly wettening leg was
still pushed against him, and passed it to him. “Sit on the bag, man, quick,
so you don’t get the seat wet,” he hissed, and when Steve failed to react at
once Jonathan actually grabbed him between the legs with one hand and pulled
his warm, soaking butt up off the chair while he simultaneously slipped the
bag under Steve’s bottom as he let his body flop back down on the protective
plastic bag. This meant that Steve was now sitting down on Jonathan’s hand
which Jonathan now extracted as carefully as possible from between Steve’s
legs, avoiding pressurising Steve’s balls but still feeling the hot piss
gushing from his cock and continuing to soak through Steve’s jeans. With the
bag protecting the seat, the pee was now running off onto the floor of the bus,
additionally wettening the backs of Steve’s legs as it did so.
Steve’s breathing gradually returned to normal as the piss flow subsided.
Under the admonishing eye of Jonathan, the other onlookers turned back in
their seats with as little comment as possible. Incredibly, only a small
number of the occupants of the bus had any idea of what had just happened.
“Sorry Steve, didn’t mean to grab you in the balls,” said Jonathan. “I just
didn’t want you to soak the seat.”
Steve remained silent, not really looking at anyone and not acknowledging
what Jonathan had said, so Jonathan continued: “It’s okay, don’t worry about
it. You couldn’t help it. It happens.”
There was another short silence but then Steve suddenly spoke in a low
voice: “Danny mustn’t see this. I don’t want it all round the Chemistry
“I’ll hold him off if he comes to talk to you,” said Jonathan.
“And I can’t go home like this. I can’t let my housemates see.” He had
started to cry.
Jonathan put his arm round Steve’s shoulders. “Then come home with me like
we agreed. We’ll put your wet things through the washer-dryer while we
watch a film together. I’ve got my own room and no-one will disturb us, I
Steve nodded gratefully and blinked back the tears. “Thanks,” he said
“We’ll just have a five minute walk through the streets to get to my flat,”
continued Jonathan, “but they’re quiet streets and it’s not likely anyone
you know will see you. Just walk behind me, you’ll be fine.” He grinned
supportively at the stricken lad.
The two guys talked quietly for the next thirty minutes as the bus approached
the town and headed for the campus on its final leg of the journey. Steve
gradually cheered up despite the unpleasant sensation of sitting in cold,
soaking underpants and jeans, warming further to the friendly lad who was
going to get his clothes washed and dried and with whom he was going to
spend the evening. Gradually the anguish he felt at having had such a
spectacular accident in front of other students subsided, and he started
telling himself that it wasn’t as bad as all that.
However, Steve voiced his major concern once more as the bus turned towards
the college buildings and people around them started to collect their things
in preparation for getting out of the vehicle. “I’m really worried Danny’s
going to come over and say goodbye,” he said. “We spent the day at the brewery
together, so it would be natural for him to do that. If he sees this he’ll
really spread it around.”
In fact he need not have worried. Jonathan and Steve exited by the rear doors
under the largely sympathetic glances of other club members who had witnessed
Steve’s accident, but Danny was seen to bolt out through the front door the
moment it was open, sprint over to a tree at the side of the road, extract
his dick and spray a huge load of pee against it. “Wow, you two really did
have a lot to drink, didn’t you?” said Jonathan, nodding in Danny’s direction
as he and Steve made their get-away. “Looks like he almost didn’t make it.”
“Yes, we drank too much,” agreed Steve. “I’ll know better next time.”
“Come on then,” said Jonathan. “We’ve got a six-pack of stout here.” Jonathan
had left the piss-covered shopping bag on the seat and was carrying his
purchase loose in his hand. “And a whole stack of DVD’s back in my room.
Let’s make a nice lazy evening of it. We’ll be there in a few minutes.” He
led the way through some quiet side streets.
Back at his flat they slipped inside without alerting Jonathan’s flatmates.
The bathroom was free and Jonathan handed Steve his dressing gown to change
into as Steve gratefully peeled off his soaking wet jeans and underwear for
Jonathan to put into the machine before going to release the next load
of piss which had accumulated in his bladder since his mishap in the bus
and then took a shower.
The evening’s beer drinking with his new friend in front of the DVD player
was the highlight of Steve’s day.