In June 2002, most people in Britain were celebrating the Queen’s Golden Jubilee. She has been our ruling monarch for fifty years (I don’t like that, because I’m a closet republican, but that’s enough politics from me). That meant the country had a four-day Bank Holiday weekend.
Some of my friends asked me if I wanted to go down to Buckingham Palace to greet Her Majesty in her finest hour. I didn’t want to go at first, but soon, I changed my mind. I wasn’t busy that holiday and it was better than getting bored at home. One of my friends even tried to get tickets to the open-air concert that was being held inside the palace grounds, but they were sold out quicker than I could wet myself!
There were four of us, and we decided to make a day of it. We got out of the Underground station at Hyde Park Corner, so we could avoid the worst crowds. I felt that familiar twinge in my bladder. In fact, I needed to wee since I left home with the boys, but I decided to hold it. We were laughing, cheering to each other, and generally enjoying ourselves.
As the day wore on, I felt myself becoming more desperate. I was tempted to pinch my penis, but I knew I couldn’t do it with my friends about, so I resorted to just squeezing my legs together and tightening my bladder muscles. I wanted to find a toilet, but I couldn’t find any. The organisers probably needed all the space for people to fill The Mall, the long road from Admiralty Arch that leads to the palace itself.
Later, the crowds lined up to greet the Royal car containing the Queen and the Duke Of Edinburgh being driven slowly towards the palace to get to the concert. Afterwards, we decided to disappear to the pub for a while to have a few drinks. By this time, I was now really desperate, literally at bursting point. I didn’t know how long I could last without leaking into my trousers. I tried not to show any signs of discomfort in front of my friends. I crossed my legs on a stool I was sitting on and squeezed them more tighter than before.
I looked around the pub to find the directions to the toilet, but there weren’t any…. and I didn’t want to lose my seat. The pub was full of people having a drink and enjoying the celebrations. I continued to suffer in silence (!) until I had the chance to relieve myself.
A few hours later, the concert ended, and the crowds gathered again to see the Royal Car being slowly driven towards Charing Cross. While this was happening, I felt a little pee spurt into my underpants. I panicked and rushed through the crowds, not caring whether my friends would see me.
Soon, I found this large tree in a relatively quiet part of the park. I quickly unzipped the fly of my trousers, took out my penis, and let go a huge gusher. My stream looked like that it was coming form a fire engine. It must’ve lasted for sixty seconds because of all the pee I held in. My stream then turned to a trickle before emptying and then I put my penis back inside my trousers and zipped up my fly. Suddenly, I heard a deep voice coming towards me.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” said the voice.
I turned around to see a burly man in a security uniform looking at me. I bet he thought I looked suspicious! I made my excuses and left to rejoin my friends. That was close! I had trouble holding my pee all day…. and nearly ended up in prison!