Louis drums his fingers against his thigh restlessly. This meeting better be over soon. It had already been going on for an hour. He was heading to the bathroom when his boss called an emergency mandatory meeting and dragged him away. Although, what the meeting was about, Louis couldn't tell you. He was too focused on his increasingly urgent need to pay attention.

Finally, Louis thinks as he leaves the meeting room two hours later, now I can go. He squeezes his thighs together before heading in the direction of the mens' room. When he gets there, however, he's met with an unwelcome sight. CLOSED FOR REPAIR, the sign read. Sighing, Louis gives himself a squeeze through his pants and heads out to his car.

Plopping down in his seat, he winces as his bladder jostles. Why did I have to drink so much? he thinks as he remembers the two bottles of soda he drank beforehand, plus the cup of water he had during the meeting. He presses his legs together as he prepares for the 45 minute drive home.

20 minutes in, he can't stop squirming. Louis leans forward, gripping his crotch for just a second and- "ohh" -gasps at the relief. He doesn't want to let go of himself, but he knows he should use both hands to drive. He carefully pulls his hand away, grimacing as he nudges his bladder.

Just 15 minutes. Hold on for 15 more minutes, then you can go. At least, that was the plan... before he ends up in bumper-to-bumper traffic. "No..." he whimpers, pressing a hand to his crotch.

20 minutes later, his face is contorted in agony with one hand in his pants to hold himself better. I should have been home by now!

He feels a hot jet against his hand. "Fuck..." Louis frantically looks around while trying to stem the flow. The cars are still barely moving. Maybe he could... Louis bites his lip. No. He's not a child. He can hold it. Can I though? He sighs. He honestly doesn't think so. Even if by some miracle he made it home, he definitely wouldn't make it to the toilet before soaking his work pants.

The seatbelt is pressing into him too much. He shakes as he unbuckles it, gasping at the slight release of pressure. It isn't enough though.

"Oh God," he groans, curling into himself as he clutches his crotch. I can't hold it. he realizes. At that, he starts spurting in his pants. "Fuck! Fuckfuckfuck-" and he has it under control, but just barely, and he needs to go now.

Panting, Louis searches through the trash in his car with his free hand. A couple minutes later, he comes up with a soda bottle. Normally, he would never do a thing like this... Fuck it, he thinks. He's desperate.

He hastily unscrews the cap, holding the bottle with his arm so he can keep a hand in between his shaking legs. He takes a deep breath before removing his hand from his crotch. "Shit!" he yells as he immediately starts leaking. His shaky hands fumble to undo his pants. Finally, he does it.

He puts the tip of his dick to the bottle and finally lets loose. "Oh my God..." he moans. When he's finished, the bottle is nearly full and his pants are... pretty wet. Louis is too caught up in his daze of relief to care about that though. Sweat drips from his forehead ans his face blushes hot. He simply recaps the bottle, sets it in the cupholder, and turns his attention back to traffic.

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