My Trip To Palm Springs

Yesterday I was asked by an LA client to do some work at a house he just purchased in Palm Springs. It was late July, and I knew that the weather would be dry and hot. Driving South, I began to feel the need to pee. I wanted to beat the traffic, by making no pee stops. Two and a half hours later I pulled up my client’s driveway in Palm Springs. The thermometer read 115 degrees. My client met me at the door, and wanted me to quickly start working on the pool’s equipment. I was instructed to replace the pool’s motor, water blast the exterior of the house, and rock clean the pool’s tile. All I asked my client was; “Is there a quite place to pee?” My client told me that he and his extended family were preparing to head back to LA. “All the bathrooms are being used. Just find a spot by the pool equipment, or behind the house” he said.

Feeling a little angry, and with a burning need to pee I walked back to the pool equipment. Members of the owner’s family were conversing in the yard around the swimming pool and pool equipment. To make things worse, the back of the yard was in full view of the neighbors, who happen to be lounging about in their backyard watching all of us. Frustrated, and filled with pressurized pee right to the tip, I knelt down, and started working on the pool’s motor. There were guests sitting directly in front of me. While opening a supply line, a bit of water splashed on to my black cotton jeans. I noticed that the black color of my jeans hid the fact that my thigh was now damp with pool water. The cool dampness made me begin to dribble bits of warm pee uncontrollably into my underwear. Burning to just let it go, I had to somehow release at least some of the pressure, There was just no time left! Straining to hold back, I carefully squeezed out a little spurt of warm pee into my cotton briefs. That little wet pressurized spurt pushed it’s way to the surface of my jeans. A little glossy shinny spot became momentarily exposed, before the warm wetness soaked back into my jeans. Looking down at my black jeans, there was no visible evidence that I had just squeezed off a small pressure spurt of pee. My heart pounded as that warm pee soaked deep into my crotch. Clearly, today was going to be a day when I was going to be “Bad.” The question was; “Will I get caught?”

In the hot Palm Springs air, my damp shaft quickly cooled. The cool wetness felt great against the blasting heat. It felt so good I threw caution to the wind. I figured F_ _ _ _ all of them, I squatted down behind the pool filter as I installed the new motor. With guests sitting directly in front of me talking, I released a nice pressure relieving spurt. I watched as shinny warm pee pushed to the surface of my jeans, and flowed down my shaft to my crotch. With no where to go, I felt warm pee begin to spread across my backside. As wetness started to drip from my pee saturated crotch, I stood back up. That warm pee that had flooded my crotch, now seeped down the inner and backside of my thighs. I momentarily stood up behind the pool’s filter to let the warm pee seep down to my knees. I squatted back down to finish hooking up the motor. Once finished, I released my second pressure relieving spurt before standing up again. That second spurt finally gave me some momentary relief. It took only moments for the shinnyness of my pee soaked jeans to turn flat black again. Walking back to the truck, I past the owner’s guests as warm pee slowly seeped down the front and back of my thighs. No one noticed.

I next unloaded the water blaster, and started to clean the desert dust off the residence. My client and his family were now packing up. They were continuously walking past me. I knew if I let go now, and saturated my jeans with pee, someone was bound to take notice. I could only strain to hold my pee back. I watched with re-leaf as my client and his family finally locked up his house, jumped into their cars, and drove off. I was now finally alone. As I cleaned the house’s exterior, the fine mist of the high pressure water spray was engulfing me in a wet mist. In the blasting Palm Springs heat the wet mist was refreshing. It was not long before the mist started to soak threw my clothing. As I sprayed off the last side of the house, I could simply hold no longer. It started when I again began leaking bits of warm pee uncontrollably into my damp underwear. I again watched as the area around my shaft became shinny with warm wet pee. My shinny spot instantly spread as I began to let go, flooding my underwear with a full pressurized stream of warm wet pee. It was euphoric. Walking back to the truck, I continued to flood my jeans with pee. Shinny wetness flowed down the front of my thighs. I looked behind me to see a trail of wet pee that was beginning to drip from my jeans. By the time the water blaster was loaded, I my jeans were continuously dripping with wet pee.

Finally peed out, I walked back to the pool to start cleaning the pool’s tile. As I walked, my pee saturated jeans flapped against my legs. To clean the pool tile I had brought a bathing suite from LA, but then thought; “Why?” Standing at the steps I kicked off my shoes and stepped in. Cool pool water rushed up my jeans to my knees. Moving to the next step, the sensation of cool water touching my crotch was erotic. There was simply no turning back, fully clothed I submerged my body, and swam underwater across the pool. I spent two hours wading in the pool, cleaning the tile.

My work finally finished, I stripped off my wet jeans and shirt, slipped on my dry bathing suite, and headed for the long drive home. I left my damp underwear on to remind me of the “Bad Boy” fun I experienced in Palm Springs.

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Responses

  1. Great story… but next time you get suck a job, my advise would be to use a diaper under your jeans. Just think of what would have happened it someone had spotted out what you were doing in your undies !

  2. Wearing a diaper takes the fun out of doing something the prudes say is bad. There are many (on UTube) that find pleasure peeing in the privacy of their shower or tub. For 50 years I have experienced the satisfaction re-leaving myself in places where most would not dare. In most cases I was fully clothed. The fun is in not getting caught.

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