A few weeks ago I made the trip to New Orleans to attend a week long seminar and the following 'desperation' story happened to me.
The seminar was lasting a full week and after 3 days of classes and sessions most of us were ready to get out and enjoy the local flavor of Bourbon Street. As a 28 year old male, this is the place to be for fun, so 3 of us took of in the early evening. To take advantage of the nightlife and blend in with the locals I put on a pair of super-tight Levis 512's ( and nothing comes between me and my Levis).
As we walked Bourbon Street we stopped by a number of the Jazz pubs and consumed a large amount of beer and liquid refreshments. As the night grew later we hit a number of the other night life entertainment establishments. As a willing and able male and seeing the Bourbon Street entertainment, things were showing right through my jeans, which even under normal situations left little to the imagination.
We continued on and began taking advantage of the 'beverage on the street vendors' - these are beer vendors who will sell you beer as you walk. By late in the evening we were all feeling pretty loose. The 2 other guys has made a 'pit' stop along the way at the last bar we stopped at. I did not and was in need of a pee stop soon. I stopped in at a bar (which had, as most do as sign - Restrooms for customer use only) and asked the bartender the way to the restroom. He had no sense of humor and reminded me that I had not purchased any thing therefore I was not a customer. We left and walked further.
By this time the need to pee was critical, and the tight jeans pressing on my bladder and other parts was getting difficult to overcome. I relaxed just a bit and a small wet spot appeared on the front of my jeans. At first I was embarrassed, but with the tightly packed crowds, figured no one would notice. I stopped by the next bar and asked the waitress (Great looking - young 20's) for the way to the restroom. She looked at me and I saw her eyes drop down to my jeans. She said in a sexy voice that it looked like it was too late. With this, I relaxed a bit again and the wet spot grew. She looked down, then reached down and grabbed me and gave me a brief rub. She told me that I had to purchase at least a drink in order to use the washroom. At this time I was going to go along with anything.
The other two guys I was with went on down the street so I was alone. She showed me to a table a bit away from the rest of the crowd and said she would be back. As she turned away I noticed that she too had a wet spot between her legs and a couple of inches down her thighs. Seeing this made me relax a bit more and I let go enough to soak those tight Levis 512's from front to back. She returned in a couple of minutes, with a large beer, a larger wet spot and another waitress, also blond and in her early 20's. They both noticed what I had done and told me that I should now be thirsty for that beer. Both girls sat down on my knees, reached down to my wet jeans and began to rub and caress. In a minute I was pushing to get out of the jeans and was about to come, but no place to go. Just then, I began to feel a warm flow over both knees.
They had both peed their jeans. There was quite a puddle forming on the floor. All this is happening while the other bar patrons are milling around, paying us no attention. At this point I let go the rest and added to the puddle. Shortly they both got up and told me that if I still needed the washroom that it was around the corner. I said no, and decided that I might as well finish the beer and head back to the hotel. The 2 waitresses were back to work like nothing had happened - and no one paid a bit of attention to their wet jeans.
At this point I got up and left and continued to walk down Bourbon Street. I noticed a few looks towards me but I figured I'll never see them again. I later caught up with my 2 friends but never told them the story.