Where I live in northern Virginia, there are lots of little public parks. Many have places to park in them (for others, it’s street parking), and they have nice park benches along the many paths. Maryland also has nice park layouts, too. If I am driving around and feel the need to pee, I of course first drink some more water from one of the water bottles in my car, to help speed things along, then I scout for a park, not close to where I live but say within just a very few miles. One park is right across the street from a high school, and a perfect place to sit and watch all the cute boys leaving school at the end of the day! Recently, on one of the first really warm days, I was on a wooden park bench, some distance from the actual school building, along a popular path that kids used to cut through to a new development. I was wearing skintight faded black levi cutoffs, and the buildup of pee was getting worse and worse. When I got out of my car, an average, almost “junker” car that I keep for these forays, I almost had to clutch my crotch to prevent the pee from spurting out–that is how bad I had to go. I walked down a path about 100 feet from my car to a nice park bench, off the trail maybe 15 feet, and took out of a little satchel a tablet and an iPhone, what just about everyone else around carries! Even though I am an older guy, I am often mistaken for a student, since I am thin and keep in shape.
Besides the skintight faded black levis, I had on sandals and colorful blue and white striped jersey, with broad horizontal blue and white stripes, about 3 inches wide. I have two or three like that which I like a lot, and they’re not too big. One is almost too short to stay tucked in, which I like.
Anyway, I got to this bench, pulled out my iPad to look like I was doing something on it, while trying desperately not to pee, although it was going to happen within a very few minutes. I looked around and everything looked so peaceful, serene. Then down the path I saw a tall youth, probably a senior, slinking down the path, almost dressed like me: jersey, tight levi shorts, and sandals! He had a beautiful head of blond hair (I am sooo envious of blond guys!) and a very boyish face, and was wearing a knapsack/bookbag. Unlike many students, he didn’t have on headphones and an iPad. He sauntered down the path, and when he passed me, he nodded and mumbled “Hi.” I instinctively grabbed my crotch as I said hi, too, and then he paused. He looked down the path in the direction he was going and then turned back toward me to ask something, but by that point, I had to pee so bad that I just cut loose and pee bubbled out of my crotch and started almost flowing out and down onto the grass. It doesn’t take long for this to happen!
I mumbled “Oops!” and grabbed myself and rose from the bench a little, legs spread. “Gosh, I didn’t know this was going to happen,” I said, half sincerely, and I could feel my face getting really red, honestly!
The kid was entranced. He just stood there, staring, and then said, “Hey, guy, let it out if you have to go that bad!” So I stood there, not intending to wet myself this way (I wanted to do it sitting on the bench, without a lot of fanfare), but let the pee gush out, making most of the front of my levis very dark compared to the rest of the cutoffs. It took maybe 2 minutes, then I sat back down. Fortunately, I peed on grass, so the ground absorbed all the wetness. When I sat back down, I sighed visibly and put my head in my hands. “Oh God, I didn’t mean to do this!” I moaned, and actually started to cry a little. It surprised even me.
The kid was unsure what to do next, but this did look like an honest accident, and it was, really. I looked up at him, standing about 15 feet away, and said again, “I’m sorry.” He replied that it was okay and then he came over closer, to the opposite end of the bench, and put one foot up on it. I could see he had a huge hardon in his own tight cutoffs.
I tried to “compose” myself best I could, wiping my tears away, smoothing my hair, and then sitting crosslegged so that no one could see the big wet spot on my crotch.
“You live around here?” the kid asked, and I replied, “No, I was going to the Western Shopping Mall,” gesturing over to where the mall was, maybe 300 yards down the road. “I had to pee as I was going to my car, and figured I could drive on home, about 3 miles away, and realized I wouldn’t make it, so I pulled into this little park to figure out what to do next, and there you were!” And that was God’s truth! Then I said, “I’m Brian,” and stuck out my hand. The kid, still somewhat cautious, took a couple of steps toward me and mumbled, “I’m Bobby.”
“Bobby, you look really nervous. I’m sorry I upset you. I really didn’t mean to.”
He blushed. “I’m not really sure who you are. Sometimes we get the police patrolling these paths. I need to be careful!”
“Of course!” I said, nodding my head. “I do, too!” Then I added, “You could be a cop, for all I know. But trust me if you can–I am definitely not!” Then I added, “Does this look like I’m a cop?” I said, gesturing toward my wet crotch under my folded arms and iPad, that I had put on top of my lap. Then I pulled out an ID, which I had made to look like a driver’s license. It had the name I use for watersports, Brian Larsen, a nice picture of me, and an innocuous-looking address that was fake, but looked real.
“Wow!” Bobby said. “Thanks for showing me that. You do seem honest.” And he smiled.
I replied, “Look, I need to get on down the road to home and change. Could I maybe meet you another time? Say, a Starbucks, like the one in the mall?”
Bobby looked pensive, then looked in his notebook, then said, “Okay, how about tomorrow, Thursday, at this time, about 3:30 pm. But don’t show up in wet jeans, okay?” Then he laughed, somewhat nervously.
“Okay,” I said. “I think I can make it.” Then I said, “I will tell what, why don’t I give you my cell phone number? If I have a problem, I will leave a message if you call the number, if I am running late.” It was a risky move, somewhat, but the phone number was registered to a “Not Available” and had other protections, so I would be okay if someone started snooping. I found a piece of paper, scribbled the number down, and handed it to Bobby. “See you, tomorrow!” I smiled, then I got up. I could feel urine running down my legs, and I’m sure Bobby noticed. I wonder if he noticed my hardon. I stuck out my hand to shake his, and he reached out and hugged me (!) and said, “I look forward to it!”
Then I turned, stunned at his overture, and walked briskly to my car, not looking back. I got to the car, got in, and as I turned around to leave the lot, he was still standing there, and waved to me.
TO BE CONTINUED