Tag Archives: wee

Where are the toilets?

17 Jul

My old primary school used to open up its outdoor swimming pool for pupils to use during the school holidays. It was simply a case of registering and then you were put on a rota which showed the days and times you were allowed to use the pool. Although the pool was always freezing cold and contained approximately 50 dead flies per square metre, I normally put my name down to use the pool as it was free. Not only this, you were allowed to bring a friend with you and the person supervising (normally parents of children at the school) didn’t give a toss what you got up to. It was not unusual to see a number of kids attempting to run the length of the pool over its cover, and inevitably nearly drowning when their legs got caught amongst the polythene as it began to sink below the surface of the water.

 When I was in year 7, I was on the pool rota during the Summer holidays. One particular day, my brother and I decided to make use of the free facilities as it was particularly warm, and we thought it would be an ideal way to cool down. Our cousin Jake was also with us, and he is the star of this story, for reasons that you will soon find out. We arrived at the pool early in the afternoon to find it pretty much empty; from memory I think that there were only a couple of other children in the pool.  We quickly got changed in the run down changing rooms; for once it wasn’t worth trying to peer through the cracks in the wall which looked directly in the girl’s changing room, as it was vacant.

 The time we spent in the pool was brief. It was rather boring to be honest and after half an hour or so we were already cold and fed up and talking about what else we could be getting up to. A decision was made to get out of the pool, get changed, and go and play some football in the park. In the changing rooms, we all wrapped our towels round our shivering bodies. The sunny weather did nothing to heat up the chilly water and so all three of us were very cold, goose-pimpled from head to toe. One thing I miss about being young was the fact that a towel would easily cover my body like a huge duvet, and I could get snug and warmed up I no time. I was enclosed in my towel and wriggling free of my swim shorts; even though we were family, there was no way that we wanted to see each other’s knobs.  I noticed Jake struggling somewhat in his corner of the changing room, with a concerned look on his face.

 “Are you alright, Jake?” I asked, “Get dressed and you’ll be warm in no time”.

 Jake just looked back at me with a blank expression on his face. He was completely naked, holding his towel out in front of him to protect his modesty. He reminded me of a matador holding up a red rag to a bull, and I smirked at the thought of my brother charging at him, sending them both crashing through the wall of the changing rooms.

 “Erm, lads…where are the…” Jake stopped momentarily and I speculated at what the next word would be. I didn’t have to wait long.

 “TOOOIIIIIIILLLLETTTTTTTSSSSSSSS?!”

 As Jake said the word ‘toilets’, the pitch of his voice went up a few octaves.  He began pissing instantly, his frantic hands clambering to control his penis which was snaking in the air in a frenzied manner; such was the force of his release. The power and ferocity with which he was urinating meant that he couldn’t get a proper grip of his member and so instead he picked up his towel and held it in front of him, soaking up his salty spray. Still he pissed, a torrent of liquid soaking the towel that Jake held in his outstretched arms. My brother and I were pissing ourselves too, only with laughter as we watched in amazement at the amount of piss that Jake was spraying around the place; his chipolata flapping around like a fireman’s hose with no one holding the end. I swear I saw his stomach shrink inwards as his bladder emptied, and I saw all life and energy drain from Jake’s body

 Eventually he stopped and his tired, naked body stumbled backwards against the wall of the changing room before sliding down it so that he was sitting on a bench that ran all the way around the inside wall. I was struggling to breathe as I was laughing so much, and my brother was on the floor holding his sides which were aching.  Jake’s sodden towel, which he had dropped as he staggered backwards, was in a pile on the floor, and the urine that had missed the towel had formed a large damp patch on the carpet. We all looked at each other and then at the mess on the floor and exploded into laughter in synchronisation.  My brother was the first to start speaking,

 “Ha-ha-ha! You’ve pissed everywhere! HAAAAA!”

 Yes, he’d stated the obvious, but what else was there to possibly say in this situation? Jake was grinning,

 “I just couldn’t hold it in”

 “You’d need a cork to keep that in”, I retorted.

 After a good hearty laugh, we eventually managed to get ourselves dressed, being careful not to tread in the spillage. Jake had to pack his smelly towel in to a plastic bag before putting it in his rucksack. We laughed about the incident all the way home that afternoon. Never before, nor since, have a seen a piss like it.

Train Piss

23 Dec

Going for a piss on a train is never easy. The gentle sway of the carriage makes aiming difficult and it can be hard to choose between using a hand to steady yourself or to hold your nose to alleviate the stench of the often rancid surroundings. Attempting to urinate on a train whilst drunk, into an empty can of beer however, is even more of a challenge, and it is a position I found myself in not too long ago after a night out.

Rowley and I had a carriage to ourselves. It was 1 o’clock in the morning and so there weren’t too many passengers, especially as we were travelling from High Wycombe to Princes Risborough. We were both drunk, but in good spirits, laughing about the nights events and looking forward to getting off the train for a well deserved cigarette. The journey itself is only about 15 minutes long, but halfway through, I felt my bladder expanding rapidly, pushing against my trousers.

Everyone knows what it’s like once you’ve broken the seal after a few alcoholic drinks; you need to go to the toilet all the time. Unfortunately, I hadn’t been for a while and I felt as if I could actually wet myself for the first time in years.

“Fuck me, I’m desperate for a piss, where are the toilets?” I asked Rowley, too lazy to look for them myself. Rowley looked up from his phone and along the carriage.

“Just down there, look” he said, pointing.

 I walked out of the carriage in which we were sat, and into the next one, which was only occupied by one old man. Fit to burst, I began to think about the warm tingly feeling I’d get after releasing such a buildup of urine. As always, things were not that simple.

Before I had even reached the toilet door, the reek of a freshly deposited turd hit me, making me gag instantly. The air was a foggy haze, and the thought of inhaling somebody else’s airborne poo particles made me retch again. I daren’t even open the toilet door. If the smell was this bad outside, what monstrosity would I face inside? Images of skid-marked porcelain flashed before my eyes and I only just managed to keep down a small amount of vomit which had crept up my throat. How the old bloke sat in this carriage could put up with the smell, I wasn’t sure, unless it was him that had committed this heinous crime.

Turning around quickly, I made my way back to where Rowley was sat; now jiggling around on my feet like a toddler, desperately trying not to wet myself.

“I’m not going it there, it’s fucking disgusting” I said to a now rather amused Rowley.

Scanning the carriage, I spotted equipment that I felt I could use in such an emergency. By one set of seats there sat two empty beer cans, and a large coffee cup. I picked up the coffee cup and pulled off the plastic lid, grateful that the items I had spotted were not some sort of mirage brought on by the fact I needed to urinate immediately.  The relief I felt as I finally let all pent up fluid out was sensational, and I let out a sigh to signify such a feeling.

The cup was soon almost full, so I tensed and held my bladder whilst I quickly put the cup down and picked up one of the beer cans. This time, aiming was not as easy as I didn’t have much of a hole to aim at. Instead I had to let my piss trickle out slowly but at least it was coming out. I had another disadvantage whereby I couldn’t see how much of the can I had filled, but this was solved when I felt the metal go warm around my fingers. It was time to swap cans.

By now I had built up a bit more confidence and was peeing at a more normal speed into my last available receptacle. Rowley was sat a few seats back, chuckling to himself, all the while calling me a dirty bastard. I had to tell him to stop laughing because in turn it was making me laugh, thus adding to the difficulty of my challenge.

“Are there any more cans up by you”, I asked Rowley, mid-piss.

“Nope”

“Oh, shit. This one is nearly full as well”. I was starting to worry. Rowley just laughed once more.

 I was holding the final can at the top waiting for the metal to go warm, but it was now heavy and I knew that I’d almost reached its capacity. For a second time, I held my bladder and placed the can down by the other full one. We were still a couple of minutes from our stop and there was no way that I could keep the last of this piss inside me, especially not now I was over half way through. It wanted out.

There was only one thing for it. Not wanting to go all over the floor, I waddled over to a bin near one of the carriage doors. It was only about 2 foot off the ground, so I had to squat whilst I finished off my business. Once done, I zipped up and returned to my seat, exhausted but content. I felt ashamed and also had a pang of guilt because I knew some poor soul would have to clear the bin out the following day. Then I remembered why I had to piss in the bin in the first place and thought that cleaning the bin would be nothing compared to what lay in store in the actual toilet.

“Are you ok now?” asked Rowley

“I really needed that” I replied.

%d bloggers like this: