It felt like hours since you were back at your place, pre-gaming the superbowl with your buddies, before your girlfriend took you on a "quick" trip to the grocery store, you should have known better since it was midday on superbowl sunday, just before the game would start.
You were already tipsy when you left with her, and it hadn't occurred to you to use the restroom before leaving. When you arrived at the store, you noticed that the restrooms were out of service.
You trail along behind her slowly, trying to focus on literally anything other than how close you were to exploding. You eventually lose sight of her as she disappears down another aisle.
You stop in place, knowing that relaxing your thighs even the slightest bit from compressing your crotch will release a yellow flood. It feels like an hour has passed, or maybe like time has come to a crawl. The pain of holding it has become unbearable. You release for only a moment, and that was all your body needed to signal a figurative breaking of the dams.
All the colors and sounds of the world begin to slip away from theforeground of your mind as the euphoric sensation of released tension and build-up overwhelmed you, relaxing yourself, warmth spreading over your crotch, thighs, ass, and legs as you begin wetting your pants during the crowded grocery midday Superbowl Sunday rush. The overwhelming sense of relief gives way to embarrassment as you hear a voice on the intercom snaps you back to reality
"Clean up, Aisle 7"
