Electric Yellow

Chapter 1: The Wheels Go Round. 
It was early, too early, 6 am and I was out for the bus, dressed, doused in cheap cologne, and filled with a bowl of fruit loops that I had finished only minutes before. 
One of the great things about living in the country, was that no matter what time I was waiting for the bus, it always showed up inexplicably late. At least though, it gave me time to stand out in the cold and freeze to death in the October morning.
I hated the wait, and on today’s morning, the air was bitter and tasted like gravel dust that the big trucks had kicked up into the air; Our neighbors about a mile down the road owned a Sanitation business and their trucks ran all day, and all night.
The wait, as it often did, began to get to me. I paced around, danced about…. thought about even taking out one of my ill-used schoolbooks and pretending to read it. My legs chattered together and my teeth rattled in my mouth. It was nearing 6:30, and still, there had been no sign of the large yellow transport…
“Damn it’, I thought, ‘I have to pee’.
It had happened. I had crossed the line between having enough time left to go back in and pee, and having to wait until school to lose it. I resigned myself to squirm around a bit for temporary relief from my whiny bladder. 
About fifteen minutes later, I was almost dancing, now pretty pissed that the bus would be this late… again. 
It was 6:50 before I saw the hallowed vehicle barreling down the old country road where I lived. I saw it turn the corner near the edge of my family’s property, and roll to a slow stop in front of my house.
Frantically, I shuffled onto the bus, taking one of the seats toward, but not quite directly, in the back of the bus. 
Because my family lived so far out, the bus was always empty, but for the stragglers who lived even further out than me, so, usually about three others. None of them were my friends, and for all the years we had ridden the same buses, we had never even spoken. 
It might be worth mentioning now, that I was, although athletic, and smart, and really quite good looking at fifteen, I was unbearably shy. so much so that if I had to talk to people I didn’t already know, I found myself in near panic.
However, the bus being the bus, it didn’t bother me so much, it was part of the forced morning ritual that all parents put their children through. 
As I sat down in my seat, I noticed that someone had graffiti’d blobs of color on the torn up, plastic-like upholstery. 
Also, I noticed, that my hand was firmly clenching my penis from around the jeans I was wearing….
“damn,’ I thought again, ‘ This is getting ridiculous”
Silently, I began to chide myself; swearing that from now on I simply wouldn’t drink anything at breakfast. This, was misery. 
About 20 minutes into the hour and a half ride ( I told you, I live wayyyy into the country), I began to feel really warm and sweaty… I could barely keep my hand from squeezing my dick off as I tried to stop from vacating my urine everywhere… It was torture. 
Finally, once another ten minutes had passed, I gave up holding it in. I closed my eyes, slipped my hand into my pants, and while the bus was still relatively empty; I began to piss for all it was worth; masturbating, almost by nature, my newly developed adolescent dick as the flow came and went. 
It lasted for what seemed like ten minutes at least…the stream coursed down my underwear and around my hand as I jacked… finally settling beneath my ass and trickling down my legs…I was ready to cream…I worked it harder and let the remnants of my bladder fill my jeans.Suddenly, I spasmed; In the course of wetting myself, I had also blown a massive load all over the inside of my underwear.
Exhausted by the event, I quickly sank back into reality. 
‘Fuck’, I thought rapidly, ‘ I’m soaked to the bone, and covered in jizz.. what the fuck am I supposed to do?’
I moved my hand from the inside of my pants, and wiped off the cum onto the seat beside me. 
‘gym clothes!’ I realized, ‘I can change into my gym clothes when I get in.’
So, I settled down, realizing that I had only to make it to my locker and then, I was safe. 
I began to think, now at ease from my momentary panic, that it really was quite easy, if I would want to, to do this every morning. 
I smiled at the evil little thought, tickled at how rebellious I had become since I had entered high school.. My life had always been the PG standard.. times certainly had changed,
I thought to myself that it was actually quite fun, having wet myself and then pleasured my tool while I was doing it. I wondered to myself if others had ever done it… If possibly kids at my school had done it. I vowed to myself, to spend a good bit of time trying to find out this year. 
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If you like it, let me know, I’ll write more ^^

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Responses

  1. I love your description of the emotions felt during this experience. Please do write more when you have time because this is very good.

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