Sam's unlucky morning – Part One

Sam’s unlucky morning – Part One

 

As the alarm went off for a third time that morning at what was now 6:45am, Sam lay still with his eyes closed, wishing it was the weekend. He always set his alarm early, so he knew he had plenty of time for a few more minutes rest.

Except he didn’t. As he became more awake the memory of last night resurfaced. He hadn’t just stayed for one pint – did anyone ever? he’d had six. And while he was hardly drunk, and this was hardly a hangover, he would be well over the drink-drive limit. So that meant getting a bus to the train station for the 7:30 to Newcastle, so that meant getting up right now.

Gone was the relaxing morning routine as he cursed his inability to refuse one more drink and tried to make himself look as presentable as he could as quick as he could. He raced around the flat from one task to another: a quick blob of hair gel to style his short, blond hair as best he could, lynx to hide the tell-tale smell of booze, and his favourite slightly-too-tight grey CK boxers with matching slightly-too-tight grey suit trousers which he always used when meeting this particular female client.

He got to the door just as the bus was turning round the corner of his street so he quickly locked the door, ran to the bus stop to make it just in time, and then for the first time since getting out of bed relaxed for a moment. As the bus bounced down the old, uneven road Sam quickly realised he not made time for a piss this morning. He always drank a full pint of water after a few beers in the pub and now it was wanting out.

The nearer the got to the station, the greater his need got. It seemed to be getting worse with every passing minute; when he first noticed it, it didn’t seem that bad but before long he was starting to get quite uncomfortable.

The morning traffic was slow, and gradually Sam become concerned he was going to miss his train – and today was the most important meeting of his career. No way could he be late. Normally calm and composed, he became irritable; every time the bus stopped to let people on, he started intently as people seemed to take an eternity to find the money to pay their fare.

After what seemed like an eternity, the bus pulled up at the station and he walked quickly to towards the toilet. As he approached the door his need intensified and he gripped his cock with his right hand. When he reached the door, a wave of frustration came over him. “Closed for cleaning – please use disabled toilet” read the sign.

“Fucking typical!” Sam muttered under his breath. He walked along to the disabled toilet further down the platform, hand still clamped. This one read: “occupied”. He swore under his breath again and waited. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other to try to take his mind of his increasing need to urinate.

The minutes ticked away. “What the fuck are they doing in there?” Sam thought. 7:28 came, and he knew he’d have to head towards his train now. He was livid, but not worried as he knew he could go on the train toilet, even though he hated those small, smelly train toilets.

His bladder ached as he reached to put his bag on the luggage rack and moved to sit down on the train. He grabbed his cock once again and jiggled his feet up and down as he waited for the train to set off so he could use the toilet.

Finally, the train pulled out of the station and he immediately headed for the toilet, his bladder aching with each step. Again as he approached the door he felt his need intensify, and despite wanting to come across as normal couldn’t stop grabbing his cock as though he was five again. He pulled down on the lever, but again it was locked. “What the fuck!” he muttered, although evidently not as quietly as last time as an elderly lady peered over the top of her book to shoot him a disapproving glance. He chose to ignore it.

At this point the conductor was making his way down the almost empty carriage. Sam hated this sort of conversation, but knew he had to. “Mate, the toilet’s locked.” He said as the conductor passed him.
“Sorry pal, it’s out of order.” Came the reply.
“Is there another one?”
“Not on this train, no.”
Sam couldn’t think of a reply, so just walked off back to his seat.

As he sat an inner monologue began in his head.
Shit shit shit shit shit. I genuinely don’t think I can hold it an hour and a half. What the fuck am I going to do?

 

Hope you enjoyed – let me know if you want part two and I’ll write it; I already have the ending!!

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