It's Christmas Time - and it's Danny again!

[Lee]

He does seem to have a tendency to pee like a racehorse when he's desperate. Have a look back to when he couldn't wait in the passport control queue at the airport!!

[Lee]

Also, if you read the build up to his previous accidents, on both occasions he talked about the effect that 'breaking the seal' has on him.

Watch this space!

[Wombat48]

Oooh sounds interesting!!!

[Adrian6970]

Lee , that's another fantastic Danny story after so long. Well done. I'm enjoying it enormously. He's had rather a dry year by all accounts so another wetting was well due. The fact that most of his work mates are also close to weeing themselves adds to the interest too.

[Lee]

Joe laughed out loud at the suggestion, “You must be joking, mate! Me piss myself? Not a chance, mate! I’ve got to go home and face my missus. You reckon I’m going turn up in a pair of pissy pants? Not if I can help it!”

“You might not have a choice if you can’t find anywhere to go!” mocked Will.

“I’ll walk all the way home with my legs crossed rather than tiddle my pants, believe me!” replied a grinning Joe.

“Go on, then!” said Jack suddenly. “I’ll do it. Piss myself I mean. If that hundred quid’s still up for offer, I’ll wet myself for it!”

“It’s alright for you, you’ve got shorts on!” Joe announced. “You’ll be dry by time you get home.”

“And I’ve got a pair of dry jeans in my bag!” revealed Jack, gesturing at the small pack he had strapped on his back.

“You selfish git!” Jay suddenly intercepted. “Danny here’s soaking wet and has got to try and get home and you’ve got a pair of spare jeans! Lend them to him, why don’t you?”

“Because I don’t want his pissy pants and his pissy legs inside my jeans!” retorted Jack.

“Oh go on, mate, give him your dry jeans” urged a suddenly sympathetic Will. “You can’t let him struggle home in the state he’s in.”

The banter continued for a good few minutes before Jack relented.

“Oh alright, alright, Dan can borrow the jeans. Don’t piss them though, will you…?” he called out as he extracted the rolled-up trousers from his small backpack and handed them to Jay to give to Danny.

“But I’ll tell you what. I’m literally about to burst standing here. Give us twenty and I’ll piss my pants, but not my shorts though!”

“What!” Will laughed heartily.

“Twenty? Okay?” Jack confirmed, as Will shrugged and nodded.

With that Jack opened his legs, stuck his hand down the front of his shorts, fiddled for a moment and then very precisely pulled the leg of his shorts out slightly before wriggling slightly and all of a sudden, a trickle of pee began to run down his thigh, emerging from inside his shorts. As the dribble turned into a steady stream, he continued to hold the cuff of his shorts away from his leg, allowing the stream to pour directly all down his left leg, making a clear pathway through the fair hairs on his thigh, streaming past his knee and running all down his calf into his light blue, rolled-down sock and over his dark blue training shoe.

Will was in hysterics as the puddle formed all round Jack’s foot. “Are you doing it in your pants, mate?” he managed to ask through his laughter.

Jack nodded, “Shit! But it’s getting tricky not to piss my shorts!”

Will continued to laugh heartily as the puddle bubbled and frothed on the pavement all round Jack’s trainer, running away into the kerb leaving a stream weaving its way across the concrete flooring, with Jack moaning audibly in pleasurable relief.

“You watching this, boys?” he called out, but Joe had disappeared into the gated area in front of a closed shop and, at the risk of being seen, he started to pee like a racehorse through the metal gate. “Sorry lads” he said quietly, “It’s this or I just do it and wet myself. Oh God, do I need this!”

Slightly to left of where Joe was relieving himself, Jay had prompted Danny to go down a small alleyway which led to the back door of a house. Not knowing whether was watching or even standing the other side of the small gate, Jay was anxious to help Danny in resolving his awful dilemma. As Danny stood still on a solitary paving stone, Jay offered his assistance.

“Come on mate, take your trackies off and get these on.”

Without saying anything, Danny pulled the still-tied soaking wet tracksuit bottoms down as far as he could and then painstakingly manoeuvred the sodden material over his thighs until eventually he had succeeded in dragging the trousers down as far as his calves. He wriggled his feet until he had extracted them from his wet trainers and stepped out of his trousers before pulling them away from his feet, although unable to avoid taking his socks, into which his trousers had been tucked, with them.

“And your pants, mate” urged Jay, leaving Danny to comply passively as he removed his drenched tight-fitting white briefs.

Jay handed Danny the jeans and left his mate to pull the tight-fitting and far-too-small replacement trousers on, whilst he picked up Danny’s discarded tracksuit bottoms and saturated underpants, pulled the white football socks free, stretching each one in turn to return it to some sort of shape, and then handed over both of the socks. They were so wet that Danny had difficulty in putting them back on but when he had done so, and refitted his trainers, the extent of the mis-matched trousers became very apparent. Jack was about two sizes smaller than Danny and the jeans looked skin-tight and hardly reached below his ankles so that even with his socks rolled right down, the cuff of the jeans barely reached the tops of the socks.

Danny was normally pristinely confident about how he looked and presented himself, even for work purposes, but this time it hardly mattered. At least his dignity had been somewhat preserved as far as getting home was concerned.


Fifteen minutes later, Danny was climbing into a taxi having left the others to make their own ways home. Will, who had also seen the scaffolding mishap 16 months ago had given him a friendly hug as he had seen him into the cab, saying, “Mate, to piss yourself once is embarrassing. To do it twice is, well… fucking hilarious!”

As Danny settled into the front passenger seat, he was less concerned about his appearance making him look ridiculous and more anxious not to let the driver see that the rolled-up bundle of trousers and pants he had in his hand were soaking wet.

The driver chatted endlessly, making small-talk about nothing of significance, with Danny in little mood to respond other than with nods of agreement. But as they hit queues of snarled up traffic with everyone heading home from the major Christmas party night of the year, Danny was increasingly worried about the state of his bladder, once again!

He knew full well that, from previous painful experience, when he ‘broke the seal’ he found it incredibly difficult to prevent himself from very rapidly getting to the stage where he just couldn’t hold it any more. It’s what had happened after he’d been for a wee on the plane to Portugal and then again, when he had peed in the bar toilets whilst out with Dawn a few days later. On both occasions he hadn’t been able to wait and had embarrassed himself and he could recall plenty of other times when he’d had to race back to the toilet just minutes after having a much-needed piss. It was an affliction that affected many men but Danny really suffered in as much that that second wee was unbelievably urgent and uncontainable.

Seven or eight minutes later and still crawling along in the traffic, Danny was in agony and hardly able to sit still in his seat. His bladder was pulsating and the discomfort was getting worse by the minute. He was sitting with his legs tensed and scarcely able to shift about on his seat for fear of a spurt escaping and as the driver turned into the left-hand lane in an attempt to seek out a potential short-cut, Danny knew it was a case of now or never.

“Pull over somewhere, mate, please anywhere will do!”

The driver looked at him in some surprise.

“Just pull over mate, please. Now, please! I’m not joking!”

“What’s the matter? Are you not feeling well?”

“PLEASE! I’m about to wet myself, mate! Just stop here, I’m going to piss myself otherwise!”

“There’s nowhere for you to go!”

“Just STOP! I’m almost doing it!”

The driver pulled over as best as he could and as Danny clambered out, he heard a few car horns blasting at their inconvenient stopping place, but he had no time to spare and looking around frantically, he could see only a wooden fence next to a small parking bay where there were a couple of parked vehicles, one of which had its lights on. It was impossible to look elsewhere though. Danny was literally seconds away from starting to urinate and as he stumbled towards the fence, he was desperately undoing the fly of the tight-fitting jeans.

No sooner had he reached the proximity of the fence and started to struggle to extract himself from the confines of the skin-tight denim than a voice bellowed.

“Not here you don’t, lad!”

Danny spun around and as his eyes adjusted to the glare of the light, he was confronted by a uniformed police officer who had leapt out of the unmarked parked car.

“Put it away and move on, mate!” announced the officer.

“I can’t!” blurted Danny, “Please, I can’t!”

“Do it! Now! Do yourself up this instance!”

“Please!” wailed Danny in despair, “I’ve started doing it. Please!”

“Put it away unless you want to spend a night in the cells. Do it, now, or else!”

“Oh, you…” Danny’s words trailed off as he fumbled with the flies of the jeans. It was not so much a matter of ‘putting it away’ as actually ‘getting it out’ as he had hardly been able to complete the task of extracting himself from the incredible tightness. As he stood motionless he felt his right leg getting hot and the intense heat quickly became a scorching wet sensation which spread all down his thigh and right down the extent of his leg.

“I’m pissing myself!” he whimpered to the totally unconcerned officer who just watched with total disinterest as the shimmering wetness darkened all down Danny’s leg as far as his ankle and Danny felt his cold and clammy sock become warm again as the piss ran hotly into his trainer.

A few seconds later, with a monumental effort, Danny managed to stop himself doing any more but the damage was well and truly done. The crotch and leg of his jeans, or rather Jack’s jeans, was dark-coloured and saturated and there was a little pool glimmering on the floor around his training shoe. With no underpants to contain any of the liquid, there were still dribbles and trickles streaming down his legs, although he could still fee that his bladder was fairly full.

“You bastard!” he swore at the police officer, “You’ve made me wet myself!”

“I haven’t made you wet yourself, mate! You’ve done that yourself. You should have used a toilet somewhere.”

Cursing and muttering under his breath, Danny walked uncomfortably and bow-legged back to the waiting taxi, attracting a barrage of cheering and shouting from a car-load of youths who were driving past and could see his pissed-in jeans.

The taxi-driver looked in disbelief. “You’re not getting back in like that, mate!”

“Please” begged Danny, “it’s only another couple of miles. I couldn’t help it and how else am I going to get home? Come on, mate!”

“Turn around” said the driver, inspecting Danny’s backside for wetness. “Alright, but you sit right on the edge of the seat and preferably try and squat in front of the seat so your jeans don’t touch it, okay?”

Danny nodded and carefully clambered in, complying with the driver’s request and squatting down with the cold and wet denim chaffing his damp legs. In the absence of any underwear, the discomfort was extremely unpleasant.

Around 20 minutes later, Danny was at home. He crept in quietly knowing that Dawn would be in bed and in the hallway, he kicked off his trainers and took his cold wet socks off, dropping them on top of his discarded shoes. In the kitchen of the small flat, he shoved his tracksuit bottoms and pants straight into the washing machine and peeled the saturated jeans down his legs and threw those into the machine as well. He was just getting out of the shower when Dawn called out to him and several minutes later, he climbed into bed alongside her, although she barely roused from her deep sleep.


When he awoke, Dawn was already up and in the kitchen making coffee and as Danny tried to assimilate the events of the previous night, piecing together what he could remember, his chest suddenly thumped and his heart pounded as Dawn called out,

“Did you have a good time last night? Mum text me about midnight. She and Dad went to the theatre, she said they saw you and your mates outside the station as they were on the bus going home.”

‘Oh No!’ Danny panicked. ‘What did they see? Before or after? Please don’t let them have seen me wetting myself!’ Or even afterwards! Oh Christ!’

Suddenly, Dawn called out again.

“Why are your trousers and pants all wet in the washing machine?”

“And whose wet jeans are these too?”

Danny’s heart sank further!!

[Adrian6970]

This is incredible, Lee. It just gets better!

[Lee]

This is incredible, Lee. It just gets better!

Thanks!

[Brian]

I guess wetting your workmate's jeans is even more embarrassing and awkward than wetting your own. But will Jack find out what Danny did in the jeans he lent him? And just who has seen what happened?

Love the taxi scene. One of my favourite scenarios!

[Wombat48]

This is so hot!!!!

[Adrian6970]

The question is, how long will he manage to stay dry in 2018, especially if we have an extended cold snap? I bet the recent cold weather has made him want to go a lot more than normal.