Motorway Desperation

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briefs
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Motorway Desperation

Post by briefs »

Morning all, I recently posted an account of an 18-year old's mate experience on the motorway. I posted in the writers' workshop section, but thought I'd post it here too.

Hope you enjoy, and feel free to comment:)

This is a true story, and is what kick started my enjoyment of seeing guys busting for a piss, well into the realms of distress. The only things I've changed are the names. everything else is a true account.

My name is Rob. It was the Summer of 1995. I was a student and I was enjoying the long Summer break. I suppose I was a typical 20- year old student. Longish brown hair, Converse trainers, Levi 501s, that sort of thing.

I'd had a big interest in underwear for as long as I could remember - the mid 90s were a cross over period where some lads still wore briefs, some had graduated to baggy boxers. For instance, my room mate at university wore briefs, as did I.

My mum had always bought me briefs, and I continued wearing briefs throughout my time at university. Nothing branded, just generic briefs: blue, purple, grey, white, some with swirly patterns, polka dots etc!

I'd met Ryan in my home- town a year previously but had never really associated with him. However, this summer, we seemed to click and met up most days. Sometimes we'd go for aimless, random drives; other times we'd go go for drinks. He was a couple of years younger than me, and he was straight. I was in the closet at the time, and I must admit that gradually, I fell head over heels in love with him.

Ryan was gorgeous, just gorgeous: brown hair in the curtain style, slim, brown eyes, and a beautiful smile. I'd seen him with his top off - not muscly, just a nice body, with a trail of hair leading down his belly. I loved his style of clothes - light blue jeans, nylon trackie bottoms (dark blue Adidas and light blue Kappa) and trainers. He lived at home, and I'm guessing his mum still bought his clothes.

What I noticed early on was that Ryan always seemed to need a piss. If we were out in town, often he'd need to head home for the toilet. If we were out driving (I drove, but he didn't), he'd often ask me to pull over for a piss. And that was without alcohol!

Now, one thing I noticed when he wore the trackie bottoms was the most amazing brieflines when he bent over. They were so clear to see - sometimes you could see where one side of his briefs had 'ridden' up a bit; sometimes the brieflines were equally evident either side of his cute bum. The first time I noticed this was when we were sitting in his lounge. He knelt down on the floor and bent over to adjust the video. The brieflines were just perfect. I nearly fainted with excitement.

Now, you may think that the following admission makes me not a very nice person! But I made it my business to find out what colour briefs he wore. So, whenever I was at his house, I'd sneak a peek in his underwear drawer. I also looked in his dirty laundry basket, and I must say that his underwear just had the most amazing smells - but that's perhaps another story!

Anyway, my summary of his briefs is as follows: pale blue; dark blue; white with blue stripes; white with small blue stars; dark blue with white spots; plain white.

Amazingly, he also had tanga briefs. One pair was white; the other grey. I knew when he wore these, as they spent all day riding up, and he continually seemed to picking them out of his bum.

One weekend, we were visiting friends in Nottingham. We had a few beers in town on Saturday.

Owing to a hangover, I decided not to drive home to Cardiff on the Sunday morning. instead, I left it until Sunday teatime.

Ryan and I had quarreled about something, so the atmosphere in the car was quite frosty. He was wearing dark blue track suit bottoms, t shirt and trainers. I knew that he was wearing pale blue briefs.

He'd bought a few cans of lager and started to drink them as soon as we'd left our friends' house. Soon, we were on the motorway heading South. After he'd drunk 3 cans of the Carling, I noticed him become a little tense and he broke the silence by saying,

"Rob, can you pull over? I need a piss."

I replied,
"No Ryan, we're on the motorway. I'm not allowed to pull over unless it's an emergency." I was still annoyed with him to be honest, as he'd caused problems the night before when he was drunk.
"What about the hard shoulder? I really need a piss!"
"Tough," I replied. "Wait until the services."
"How long until the services?" he asked.
"I've no idea. I don't know why you wanted a drink, anyway." I snapped.

I carried on driving, and being Sunday teatime, the motorway traffic was busy. I was in the third lane, but the traffic was stop-start.

"Rob, I really need a piss!" Ryan blurted out. I noticed that he was starting to grab his crotch through his tracksuit bottoms, and he was turning his feet inwards, as if he was trying to relieve pressure. "Pull over, please!"

I merely repeated that I was not prepared to risk my license because he'd insisted on drinking. Secretly, I was starting to enjoy his discomfort, which was growing steadily worse by the moment.

Another five minutes or so elapsed and I could see that Ryan was becoming very uncomfortable indeed. I'd seen him dying for a piss on plenty of occasions, but this was turning out to be a bad experience for him.

"Rob, you've got to pull over. You don't understand, I've had three cans, I really need a piss. Please, pull over!" There was an urgency in the way he said the 'please' that I really enjoyed. I was determined to punish him for having been such an idiot the night before. No way was I going to pull over.

As if by magic, we approached a motorway services sign. I can't remember the exact distance that was written on it, but 17 miles (or thereabouts) is in my mind. Well, his reaction was priceless. His handsome face crumpled up and his legs started to scissor backwards and forwards, with increasing urgency.

"Pllleeeaaaase, I can't wait 17 miles. I'm about to piss my pants. I'm busting." I could tell that this was turning into an emergency situation for him and I started to worry that I might end up with a wet seat. Luckily, the traffic had cleared, and I was able to put my foot down a little.

As I was driving, I kept a close eye on Ryan's reactions. He was suffering. His legs were shaking. He was grabbing his crotch. His feet were nearly touching, and he had one hand grabbing his dick, as if he was trying to hold it closed. He was rocking backwards and forwards. His distress was intense and his breathing was heavy.

I was enjoying his pain. I can't explain why, but I enjoyed it all the more because I knew he was wearing briefs (can any psychologists explain this??)

He was in agony. I could tell that he was close to losing control.

He begged,
"How much longer Rob, I'm about to piss my pants. I can't hold it in. Seriously! Ooooh." With that, he bent forward and exhaled deeply, before sitting upright in his seat with his legs scissoring again.
I replied that it would be about another ten minutes.

"F**k! I'm seriously busting Rob, please hurry up. I'm nearly going in my pants mate."

Eventually, we pulled into the services' car park. Ryan had his hand on the door handle in readiness for the car to stop. I parked as close as I could. As soon as I stopped, he jumped out, doubled over in agony for a second, and then ran towards the building. As quickly as possible, I locked the door and followed him to the toilets.

As I walked in, Ryan was standing in front of a urinal, his head bent upwards, and I could see a torrent of clear piss hit the urinal with the greatest force I've ever seen. The look of relief on his face was palpable. After a few sighs and a very long piss, he finished off with a few final spurts, shook himself and adjusted himself inside his pants.

"F**k, oh God, I needed that piss like you wouldn't believe!"

That concludes my recount of the event that started my interest in piss desperation.

As a final point, I called to his house the following day. I'd wondered all night if he'd leaked into his blue briefs, and so I made it my business to check his dirty laundry basket. Lo and behold, the briefs were at the top, inside out, having been casually discarded the night before, along with a pair of white socks.

Sure enough, there were some yellow spots in the front. Were these usual post-piss dribbles, or had he leaked? I will never know!
Fred
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Re: Motorway Desperation

Post by Fred »

In my wild youth I have been the driver with beer-drinking passengers, and there's a very vague line between enjoying someone's urgent need to pee and causing them serious distress. In this case, if Ryan had no hard feelings about the experience the next day, you hopefully didn't cross the line, and it could have been a valuable learning experience for him.
Brian
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Re: Motorway Desperation

Post by Brian »

Yes, I bet Ryan learned from this too.

Now if Rob had "accidentally" missed the turn off for the services, that would have crossed the line in my book. :shock: As it was, Ryan had no-one but himself to blame.

Cracking account, super-hot.
ryan1990
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Re: Motorway Desperation

Post by ryan1990 »

Absolutely fantastic account. I loved every minute of this even though it didn’t culminate in an accident. The clothing, the fascination with underwear (especially briefs) and intense pleasure from having someone on the verge of going to the toilet, I can relate to it all. And as for looking and smelling undies in lads washing baskets, I think this is harmless. They will never find out and nothing bad is going to happen as a result. One question, did Ryan always continue to wear briefs or did he eventually swap to boxers?
Sam70
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Re: Motorway Desperation

Post by Sam70 »

I really loved this story. It was very well written. I understand your (briefs) position. Had the police been within view and you stopped, you could have had a big fine to pay.

Do you suspect that he has a small bladder? Or perhaps he had urgency issues and it feels like he is going to pee within minutes, but can hold on for a while if there is no place to pee.

The end of the story indicates that your friendship survived the emergency!
bearshel
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Re: Motorway Desperation

Post by bearshel »

Really hot story, are you still mates?
briefs
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Re: Motorway Desperation

Post by briefs »

Afternoon all, thank you so much for the nice comments. Glad you enjoyed the account.

To answer some of the replies...

We're no longer friends - the argument we'd had re-occurred several times. If it hadn't been for the fact I fancied him, we'd have drifted apart sooner.

I think he had a small bladder - he always seemed to need a piss!

He later progressed to boxers unfortunately - black or white Levi button fronts are the ones I remember.

Maybe not something to go into detail with here, but he was destined not to wear the blue briefs again because I swiped them (and still have them to this day)! They smelled amazing - musky, stale piss etc. Right up my street!

I do have a couple more experiences with him, but nothing on the same scale as the motorway. Just general day-to-day busting for a piss.

One last detail - if he pissed into a toilet or urinal, it was akin to a fire hose going off!
Brian
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Re: Motorway Desperation

Post by Brian »

Sounds like he was an interesting guy to hang out with.

I wonder if he guessed what happened to his missing blue briefs.
briefs
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Re: Motorway Desperation

Post by briefs »

I wonder, Brian? I just couldn't resist it!
Sam70
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Re: Motorway Desperation

Post by Sam70 »

Did you both go to the same college or university,? If so , was he always busting to go before the lesson was over? Did he have to leave the lesson to go to the toilet? Secondary school may have been a real challenge for him!

What I really turned me on about this story is that it is a true story without spicing it up!
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