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In retrospect, having a Gatorade chugging competition with the cute boy down the street was probably not a good idea. Yeah, he won , but it’s only a short walk back to the new apartment, and in that time, Sean’s bladder is already about to burst. He can hardly make it up the stairs without grabbing himself. But his jeans are still dry when he makes it to the door, which is good.
But the door won’t open, which is bad.
It’s only been about a week since they moved in. As such, Dad is the only one with a set of keys until he can get over to the keysmith to make a copy for him and Daniel. This hasn’t been a problem yet, because it’s still early summer, so usually somebody is home. But when somebody’s home, the door’s usually unlocked. Sean knocks on the door and waits for an answer. He tries to stand still, but can’t help but shift his weight from foot to foot. It’s getting really bad now. The urge has transformed from a strong desire to an outright need .
Sean knocks again. “Dad, it’s me. Open up.” Still no response. Fuck. A wave of desperation courses through him, and he doubles over, grabbing his dick through his jeans. Soon, though, it passes, and he’s able to stand upright again.
All that Gatorade just keeps hitting him. His bladder is still steadily filling from the afternoon’s game, and Sean is really, really regretting being too shy to ask to use the bathroom at Jacob’s place.
The worst part is the not knowing. He has no clue how long Dad will be, where he’s gone, when he’ll be back. He pulls out his phone and tries to call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. “Fuck,” he gasps under his breath, hands starting to shake as he punches in his twin brother’s number instead.
“Yeah?” Daniel says.
“Dude, are you home?”
“No, I’m out with Noah. What’s up?”
“Do you know where Dad might have gone?”
“Why?”
“Because…” Sean hesitates. Okay, so Daniel knows that Sean’s bladder is the size of a pea (gah, don’t say pea), but he likes to tease him about it, which Sean does not appreciate. “Nothing. I just wanted to know when he’d be home. I’m locked out.”
“You have to pee, don’t you?”
“Shut up.”
“HA! You totally do. Sucks to sucks, bro. Best find a potted plant to go in or something.”
“I hate you.”
“Love you too, bro. Stay dry!”
“Go to hell.”
Sean hangs up the phone, and now he really can’t stop dancing. What is he going to do? He could just wait for Dad, maybe try calling him again, but it’s really starting to hit him now. He’s not going to be able to wait for much longer. No, he should find somewhere to pee, but where?
It sucks that he doesn’t even know any of the neighbors yet. If he knew anybody who lived here, he could potentially just knock on their door and ask to use their bathroom. But as it stands, he’s not comfortable just asking a stranger to let him pee.
But god , he has to. He’s had six full bottles of Glacier Freeze, and all of that is begging to be let out now. It’s like each millilitre is a battering ram, pounding at the gates of his urethra. Pretty soon, they’re going to bust through and storm into battle.
Well, he’s not going to find anywhere to pee up here. There’s nothing on the fourth floor besides doors, any of which could open at any moment and catch him taking a leak on the carpet. But, at the bottom of the stairwell, there’s a bit of cover, a small opening underneath the stairs. That’s probably the most private place he’ll be able to find.
Each step down the stairs is like pins pressing into his bladder, but he knows he won’t be able to sit through an entire elevator ride—he also considered peeing in the elevator, but figured there would be an even greater possibility of him getting caught. Finally he reaches the bottom of the stairs, and ducks into the little alcove underneath. He can see through the gaps in the stairs, so maybe it’s not as private as he thought, but right now, he doesn’t care. He has to pee. But no sooner can he unzip that he hears the door open on the second floor, and footsteps as somebody makes their way downstairs.
God. Damn. It. Sean cusses under his breath as he hikes his zip back up and walks stiffly out of the stairwell door and outside. He frantically glances around, looking for somewhere to go. There are plenty of corners, and a number of bushes, but in the broad daylight, he would get caught for sure. In the apartment courtyard, families are barbecuing, kids are playing frisbee and flying kites. There’s way too many people here that could see him. Like, maybe it would be okay if some of the neighbor’s kids caught him, but he doesn’t trust them not to snitch on him.
So that’s just it, then. There’s nowhere to pee. Sean could always try and make a dash for the gas station down the block, but there is no way he would make it there in time, and what if it’s for paying customers only? He doesn’t even have his wallet on him.
So he’s just got to wait for Dad to get back, then. That’s the only option. But god , he’d better be back soon. Sean really can’t hold it for very much longer. His need for a piss is quickly reaching emergency status, code yellow.
Sean wadles over to one of the benches and tries to sit down, hoping it will relieve some of the pressure in his bladder. It doesn’t, and in fact, only serves to make things worse. Not aided by the fact that the walkway surrounding the courtyard is littered with puddles from last night’s rain. And then, of course, because the universe hates him, it starts to rain. Just a drizzle, not enough to corral everybody back inside so he could use the bushes, but enough that the puddles start rippling. Each drop is torture for his bladder. It’s like it’s screaming, “I wanna do that! I want to make droplets! I want to make ripples in the puddle!” And it pains Sean greatly to tell it no, like a puppy that wants to follow him home.
Oh god, it’s happening. It’s gonna happen. Sean charges back inside for a second shot at the stairwell, when the battering rams finally break through. The floodgates crash open, unleashing a fury on his jeans.
And Sean knows he should be embarrassed, he knows how much this is going to suck when his stream finally finishes, but at the moment, he can’t help but revel in just how fucking awesome it feels. Like, Sean has plenty of experience with orgasms—he’s basically been having one a day since he was thirteen—but not a single one of them could ever compare to the sheer ecstasy flooding his brain right now, like the never-ending piss flooding his pants. He doesn’t even care who might find him as he tosses his head back and lets out a moan so wrought with pleasure you’d think he was coming. The denim sticks to him as piss runs down his leg and into his sneakers.
When finally, finally he feels empty, he loses all feelings in his legs and collapses into his own puddle. And all at once reality comes crushing down on him. He just pissed himself. Like, a lot . In the stairwell of his apartment. And he has no way of hiding this fact, no way of getting back inside to change before anybody notices, no way of avoiding the teasing from Daniel, or the disappointed look of his father.
So Sean elects not to think about that for just a little while longer. Instead he sits there, his puddle completely soaking the butt of his jeans, and recalls the incredible relief. He feels so pleasantly empty now, and that is all that matters to him at the moment.
Within minutes, he has to pee again, and since he’s already wet, he decides to just let go again.
No point in hiding it anymore, right?