The Gentleman's First Encounter

Let me first explain why I’m writing these stories. I’ve got kind of a dilemma. I really enjoy desperation stories, but whenever I encounter such situations in real life, I’m far too much of a nice guy to try and prolong a girl’s need. In fact, on the most notable occasions, I’ve felt extremely bad for them, and even worse at the simple idea that I’d enjoy such a situation.
So I’ve concocted Parker. Parker isn’t really me; most of the stories I’m telling here are entirely fictional. But Parker’s got my approach: when a girl needs to pee around him, he tries to help her as much as he can. He doesn’t get off on it until later (and I don’t do that, not if the girl in question is a friend of mine; it would be way too weird). Parker’s also much better looking. Most important thing about Parker, though, is that he is first and foremost a gentleman. He was raised to help women out, and he’ll always do that, no matter what might result from him messing around with them.
“All right, enough with the explanations!” you say. “Get to the good stuff.”
Fine, fine… let us begin with Parker’s first real–life encounter with a desperate girl. This is very loosely based on a real incident in my life. I made the suggestion Parker makes, but in reality, the girl in question had enough time to act on it.
Parker couldn’t remember a time when girls who needed to pee hadn’t turned him on; his first fantasies revolved around a bursting girl even before he hit puberty. Finding his parent’s Nancy Friday books tucked away had thrown plenty of fuel on the fire, to the point that he could almost recite a few stories out of those books from memory. But in all his dreams of desperation he never once put a familiar face on the girl in question. Part of this was because he’d never seen any of the girls he knew get desperate, not until a certain incident on the bus when he was eighteen and a first year freshman. Parker and Jenna weren’t close friends, but she was the only person on the bus ride home who was worth talking to, really, and they got off at the same stop; so they chatted now and then. And she was cute enough, in a sort of reserved, elegant way; she usually wore her brunette hair down and wore fairly conservative clothing, blouses and skirts or slacks. She was either the kind of girl who never had any fun, or kept it very well hidden. She played violin in the college orchestra.
Jenna was late for the bus ride home that Monday, and in fact Parker had almost decided that she hadn’t come to school at all when suddenly she came up the steps in a hurry and threw herself, her bags, and her violin into the seat in front of Parker. She leaned across the seat back and said, in a low voice, “I have to pee so bad.”
Parker could see the desperation in her eyes, and thought frantically. What could she do? Their bus route went all over town; fortunately they got off at the fifth stop, but it would still be a twenty or twenty–five minute trip there; and then they’d have to walk a bit. It wouldn’t be fun for Jenna at all… “The locker room,” he said suddenly, pointing to the nearest building, which happened to contain the gymnasium. “The door’s right around the corner, I bet you could go real fast.”
“Will it be unlocked?” Jenna asked, hope suddenly blossoming.
“It should be,” Parker said, “and there should be people in there right now anyway, they’ll let you in.”
But just then the bus driver fired up the engine, closed the door, and pulled away from the curb –– and Jenna groaned with frustration. Parker now suddenly found himself in a decidedly awkward position. He had too much sympathy for Jenna, and was too much of a gentleman to take advantage of a damsel’s distress in such a way, to really enjoy her plight –– but on the flip side, it was like one of his secret late–night fantasies unfolding in front of his eyes. Despite his moral reservations, he was quickly developing a hard–on, and every time Jenna bounced up and down or bit her lip, he got that much harder.
“What am I going to do, Parker?” Jenna asked –– quietly. She trusted him, but she wasn’t about to start broadcasting her predicament through the whole bus.
“Try to think about something else, I guess,” Parker said –– but he knew just how hollow that advice sounded. Especially since he couldn’t think about anything else himself. The first hold–up was simply getting out of the parking lot; there were too many buses and cars trying to fit through the driveway, and too many students strolling across that driveway as if they owned it, holding up traffic even more. Trying to figure out how long the ride would be, Parker thought ahead to the ride. There were five stoplights between them and the first bus stop. Then there would be two stops on the next road, each stop followed by a stop sign; after that there would be a long road with several speed bumps, and two more bus stops before they’d finally be able to get off. At that point Parker had no idea how far Jenna would have to walk to get to her apartment. He lived in the opposite direction. Suffice it to say, she was not going to enjoy the next half–hour at all.
Apparently trying to take Parker’s advice, Jenna said, “Okay. I can look over that new piece we’re playing,” and got out her violin music. But this couldn’t hold her attention for very long, and just seconds later she put her music aside again. “If the professor had just given this to us tomorrow,” she moaned. “He held us after class to hand out the parts, and that’s why I was late and didn’t get a chance to go pee…”
“But that was five minutes ago,” Parker said without thinking. “How’d you get so desperate before that?”
He could have slapped himself. Talking about the situation wouldn’t help Jenna at all. He just really, really wanted to know. “Well,” Jenna said, mentally reviewing, “I couldn’t go before Orchestra because I had to go get my violin out of my the shop. And I couldn’t go before Trig because my Trigonometry class is on the far side of the school from the chemistry class lab. And I couldn’t go during lunch because I was making up a test that I missed last week, and I needed every last second… and before that I didn’t really need to, not much.”
“You haven’t peed since this morning?”
Jenna flapped her hands. “I thought we were going to talk about something else,” she said, her eyes clearly growing frantic. They were at the first stoplight, trying to get out onto the main street. Parker wracked his brains, trying to come up with a better topic of conversation. But they had no classes together, and very few common interests, and he couldn’t even remember what they’d talked about last week, so he drew a complete blank until the light turned green and they turned the corner.
“What chemistry class are you in?” he tried, by now growing as desperate for another topic as she was for a toilet. His hard–on had come at a bad time. From the right angle it would be incredibly obvious, and adjusting himself would simply draw attention to it. Moreover, the way it was nestled in his clothes, the simple pressure was making him harder. If they didn’t get off the subject of her bladder soon, he’d be in as much trouble as she was, if for a completely different reason. Jenna said a few, clearly distracted words about her class, words which he instantly forgot.
The bus crested the first hill (theirs was a very hilly route) and suddenly slowed to a halt at the long line of brake lights meeting them. The stoplight below was a long one, and traffic was heavy on this road. Jenna slid forward as the bus slowed sharply on the steep incline. The jerk of the halt made her grab towards her crotch, reflexively, although she pulled her hand back before she did anything so childish. Her butt slid into the gap between her seat and the back of the seat before it, pressing her legs together, and she seemed content to stay there. Parker had gotten thrown forward by the halt as well, and was thrust up against the green Naugahyde of Jenna’s cushioned seat–back. He seized the opportunity to surreptitiously adjust his throbbing member into a (slightly) more comfortable position.
Fortunately for Jenna, the light turned green a few moments later, and once through the light –– still a matter of some time, what with all the cars ahead of them –– they started to forge their way up the next hill, pushing Parker back into his seat and out of Jenna’s view. She stayed down where the seats added pressure. This spared him from making conversation, but it also allowed his imagination to run rampant. Another three stoplights, another two stop signs, another four bus stops –– eight more pauses, some lengthy, some brief, before they could even get off the bus. He checked his watch, tried to do some math in his head. If she was like him and had gotten a ride to school, she would have left the house at 7:20 or so to get to school at about 7:45. It was about 3:30 now. More than eight hours. Jenna’s head appeared above the seat back ahead of him, but she was facing away from him. She seemed to be fidgeting uncontrollably, and couldn’t get comfortable anywhere. Parker was hardly surprised, with her bladder that full.
The next stoplight turned yellow as they approached it, and Parker thought he heard Jenna groan a little at the sight. She shifted position again, and looked at him with eyes that were just as frantic as ever. He tried doing the multiplication table in his head to stave off his excitement, but when he got to “pee times pee equals…” he knew it would be no salvation this time. The light turned green after what seemed like an eternity, and the bus rolled on. The next stoplight was red but as the bus slowed down it turned green again; the last was not so forgiving, turning yellow as they approached, but it was the quickest of all of them, and Jenna seemed a little more confident as they made the turn and began to head towards the first stop.
But off the main road they had to go more slowly, and there were nearly a dozen people who got off at the first stop, including some who sat at the very far back and didn’t bother to collect their belongings until the bus came to a halt. Then, once off the bus, they were reluctant to give up their conversations as they drifted away, hollering at each other before turning to go, and two of them walked backwards across the street, slowly, making their goodbyes. Parker heard Jenna say, “Get out of the way, fuckers,” very quietly, and he was shocked –– she never swore. As the bus came to a four–way stop and waited for other cars to go through it, Jenna turned to Parker again and whispered, “Parker?”
“Yeah?”
“I can’t hold it any more. I think I’m about to pee my pants.”
Given this sentence and at most two strokes of his rampant dick, Parker would have cum right there on the bus seat. But somehow he kept his hands away from his crotch, and from somewhere within him he mustered up the most calm and reassuring voice he could. “No, you’re not,” he said. “Just a little longer, okay? You’re doing fine.”
“No, I’m not,” Jenna said.
“You’re going to be okay, all right? Try sitting on your heel.” Whether it was his soothing tone or his practical advice, somehow Jenna got control of her bladder and survived the next bus stop. Fewer people got off this time, and they were less talkative. Then at the next stop sign they only had to wait for one car. But then there were the speed bumps.
The bus driver, knowing how much of a bump they could produce, slowed down. This made the process easier on Jenna’s agonized peehole, but also delayed them –– and easier didn’t mean easy. After the first jolt, Parker heard the bursting girl whimper, and again reassured her, not quite understanding how he managed to be so calm. Another bus stop, but only one person left, and he had been sitting near the front. Then another speed bump, taken more slowly still. One more stop –– three people, including a slowpoke from the back, then another speed bump, and another. To survive these last hurdles Jenna was not only sitting on her heel, but also pressing the heels of both her hands into her crotch.
“Easy,” Parker said. “Just be glad we’re not sitting in the way back; they’re going flying back there.”
Jenna managed a weak smile, and sniffed back some unshed tears. They made it over the last speed bump, climbed the last hill, turned… and then it was time for their stop. Parker rose easily; his erection had subsided slightly, enough for his jeans to contain without trouble. Jenna, however, was in trouble. Standing up was maybe more than she could manage.
“I’ll take your violin,” Parker said gallantly, and grabbed it; Jenna threw a thank–you at him, mostly concentrating on standing up without soaking herself. After a few seconds, in which the bus driver began to realize that something was wrong, Jenna gathered enough courage and walked forward along the corridor, a little stiffly.
“Are you all right?” the driver asked as Jenna gingerly descended the stairs.
Eager to avoid further delays, but unable to think of a clever excuse in time, Parker simply lied blatantly and said, “She’s fine.” At last they were off the bus, at last the bus had stormed off in a cloud of diesel exhaust, and now Jenna was obviously crying, one leg twisted around the other. She looked down the street in the direction she would have to walk, obviously not happy.
“How far do you have to go?” Parker asked.
“Four blocks, and I have to cross North Street,” she answered, her voice catching. North Street was another main road, and usually busy. Parker knew full well that it would be tricky to get across in a hurry.
“Come to my house,” he said suddenly. “It’s just around the corner.” Now he wasn’t entirely sure if his sudden suggestion was really motivated by chivalry, or by a desire to prolong this fascinating afternoon… but coming to his place would be shorter. Even if “just around the corner” was stretching the truth a bit.
“Really?” she said.
“Really, come on,” and with that Parker set off, her violin in hand. She followed a moment later.
They got around the corner and she asked, “Which house is yours?”
“The blue and white one at the end,” Parker said.
Jenna moaned, stopped in her tracks, and, apparently heedless if anyone was watching, openly grabbed her crotch through her long skirt. “I can’t make it, it’s too far,” she said. “I have to pee right now.”
“Can you let just a little bit out, to let off the pressure?” Parker asked.
“If I start, I can’t stop,” she said, a little breathlessly.
“Okay, don’t start then,” Parker said. “But you can make it. We’re almost there. Just eight houses in.”
After a little encouragement and a chance to regain control, Jenna set out. She walked as quickly as she could without flooding her panties. After five houses, Parker began fishing for his keys. He knew they were in his backpack somewhere, but for some reason he couldn’t find them. Trying to walk while rummaging through the depths of his bag didn’t help, but he wanted to be able to let Jenna in right away. No luck; as they drew level with his house he still hadn’t found them.
Not wishing to panic her further, even though she almost certainly could see he wasn’t finding the critical key, Parker said, “Let’s go around back, the patio door will be open.” They ducked through the side gate into the back yard, which was well sheltered from the neighbouring houses by tall fences and plants. As soon as Parker latched the gate behind them, Jenna’s hand leaped for her crotch. Then, whimpering at this apparently insufficient relief, she hiked up her skirt a bit, and then jammed one hand under its long hem and up to her crotch. Parker had never seen so much of her legs, but, still a gentleman, he pushed past her after only a half–second’s pause to stare and led the way up the patio steps. The sliding glass patio door was unlocked. But, unfortunately, Parker’s paranoid roommate had left the dowel rod in the track, keeping anyone from opening it more than a quarter–inch. Parker dropped his backpack and began rifling through it frantically, looking for the front–door keys again, but Jenna simply moaned, “Parker, I can’t hold it any more, it’s coming out.”
Parker looked around frantically, and said, “Go down there!”
“What?”
“Go down on the grass. Pull down your panties and just pee.”
Jenna hesitated. “I can’t.”
“Nobody can see you, and I won’t look, I promise!” Parker said, turning to face the house. “It’s better than wetting yourself.”
With a sort of sobbing gasp, Jenna hurried back down the stairs, gathering her skirt up around her waist. She yanked her panties down, pulled up her skirt again, and dropped into a crouch. She was peeing a river before she even squatted. Parker could hear the hot hiss of her pee, and –– as he realized guiltily, he could see her, too, reflected in the plate glass of the sliding door. He took in her facial expression –– a moan of relief that had her mouth wide open and her eyes mostly shut –– and stole one, extremely furtive glance at her crotch. He couldn’t see much with the odd shadows and the poor quality of the reflected image. He squeezed his eyes shut regardless. He had no choice but to listen to her, though, and the rush of her pee went on a long, long time.
At last it trailed off, at last he heard the rustle of cloth, and then Jenna came back up the steps to where he stood. He opened his eyes and looked at her uncertainly.
“Thanks so much for helping me,” she said. “You really saved my life, I never would have made it home.”
Parker shrugged. “I just didn’t want to see you embarrassed.”
“This’ll be our secret, then?”
“Absolutely.”
She kissed him on the cheek, lightly. “You’re such a nice guy,” she said. “See you tomorrow, Parker.” She picked up her violin and left the yard.
Two seconds after he heard the latch of the gate click behind her and was certain she was gone, he sprang down to the wet patch she’d left on the grass, undid his belt, and took care of his desperate problem in about two seconds.
Yeah, he thought, I’m a great person.
By: Weasel