Posted by Juan on December 16, 1998 at 16:15
Some time back in the last archive, someone challanged any and all readers of this board to simply walk into a store during business hours, wet their pants, and write about it. It sounded reasonable. A local shopping mall with its throngs of holiday shoppers offered plenty of opportunity, but seemed kind of intimidating. I hadn't wet my jeans in public in quite awhile - better start small and work up to it. My thoughts turned to a fuel stop in a nearby town and the daytime cashier, a plump pretty pleasent lady who always greets me by name although I've never known hers. That should do it!
While nothing that's planned can really be called an accident, I wanted this to be as "natural" as possible - a spontaneous and genuine loss of control. This would take planning and careful timing. I skipped my usual wetting ensemble of briefs and skin-tight 501s in favor of flannel boxers and an old faded sloppy pair of Lee boot cut jeans. Drinking several cups of coffee and a large glass of water, I could feel my bladder starting to fill. I truely do have a rather weak bladder - a handy thing for a ws fan - and when I've had a lot to drink the urge to pee moves quickly from demanding to undeniable. It was time to go.
Driving to my destination, sipping more coffee I could feel the authority of a tightening bladder telling me I'd best find relief soon. I planned a couple of errands, then would stop for gas before going home. First, the bank where I stood in the world's longest teller line, squirming slightly now and then as the urge to pee became greater. Next an auto parts store where the clerk had to search every catalog to find the part I wanted. Funny how everything takes longer when ya gotta go! At one point a wave of need engulfed me and I thought I would lose control right there. I bent slightly at the knees and grabbed at my crotch, got things back under control, but attracted the attention of the clerk who looked up from his books and frowned.
Getting back in my truck was painful to my now-distended bladder, but also made the immediate need for relief subside somewhat. I knew from experience that when things reached this point I could continue to hold it for quite a long time as long as I remained seated, but could not stand upright for long without losing control. I bought a large soda for the cross-town drive back to the fuel stop, knowing this would put me past the point of no return and knowing too that the place had no public restrooms. An accident would be inevitable.
Pulling up to the pumps, the need to pee by now strong enough to make my eyes water, I had a brief moment of panic but knowing that I might be tempted to back out at the last moment I had left myself no choice. My gas gauge was on empty, I didn't have enough left to drive home even if I wanted to, and I was going to wet my pants any second. I was the only customer, and I could see my friendly cashier watching from her little window. Perfect! I stepped out of the truck and began to fill the first tank. The act of standing brought me to the verge and I felt a couple of drops seep out and soak into my boxers. I clamped down and prolonged the inevitable - my truck has two large gas tanks and takes a long time to fill.
Oh-oh. Another car pulled up to the pumps. An older gentleman got out and began to leisurly fill his tank and a funny thing happened. Although I had primed myself to have an accident that the cashier would notice, I was scared to death of wetting my pants in front of this old man! I began to do a pee dance in earnest hoping he would finish his business quickly and drive away. I switched over and started filling the second tank, standing cross-legged and slightly bent at the waist when the old man finished and went into the store. I could see him through the cashier's window chatting with the manager. He'd just have to get an eyeful then, because critical mass had been reached. I straightened slightly and, so quickly it was almost suprising, I felt a huge warm gush as I lost control and began to wet my pants. The hot flood surged through my crotch soaking the inside of my thighs and all across the front of my left leg, then pouring down over my work boots and forming an ever-increasing puddle around my feet. At some point it became voluntary - I could have stopped if I'd wanted to - but it seemed kind of pointless by that time and anyway it felt so good. The deluge died to a trickle finally, about the time the tank was full. I put the nozzel back on the stand and sneaked a look at the plump pretty cashier framed in her little window. She had to have observed the whole thing, and even if she didn't notice the huge puddle there was no way she could miss the massive soaking glistening stain all down the front of my jeans as I walked toward her across the empty lot. As I squished up to the window and fished my billfold from my soaking jeans, she greeted me with her usual, friendly "HI, Juan". I hung my head in embarassment and mumbled "I can't believe I did that - just standing there pumping gas and I wet my pants!" She leaned foreward for a better look, then gave me a sympathetic smile and said "Well, that happens sometimes" Then she said "here, maybe this will make you feel better" and handed me the company's promotional calender. I thanked her, then walked back to my truck and drove soggily home.
Now, a couple of hours later I'm sitting here in my still-damp jeans having finished writing the story, it doesn't look like all that much beside some of the adventures that are posted here, but it's the first time I've done it like that, in front of someone who knows me and whom I'll undoubtedly see again. I keep thinking about that cute, kind lady at the fuel stop and the way she smiled as she stared at my wet jeans. There was sympathy there, to be sure, but something more too - perhaps a trace of lust? Can't be sure, but I think maybe that was it. Anyhow, I'm looking foreward to the next time I see her, maybe the subject will come up again. And I can't stop thinking about the mall and all those holiday shoppers.........
I'll keep y'all posted
Stay wet;
Juan
Email: wetjuan@aol.com