Don't Forget to Bring a Towel

I'm sure by now that most of you are familiar with the song, "Jizz in my Pants" by the Lonely Island.  I'm also sure that many of you hopeless virgins have probably at one time or another actually jizzed in your pants or had one of those totally awesome (not) "wet dreams".  Well last week I had done just that.

I was flying back to my home in Connecticut, after spending a week being a counselor at a camp in San Diego.  I had been out there roughly a week and a half, and between being busy nearly every one of those days and being around kids all the time, I just didn't have the time to give ol' Lyndon B. Johnson a little tug.

Now for what I expect to be most of you, I'm sure you know that going two or three days without launching the hand shuttle can make for a large load build up.  Well then, I guess you can imagine that going from spanking it almost everyday to going without it for 10+ days just how many tadpoles are accumulating down there.

So anyway, I'm flying back, the first part of my flight is to Chicago, then later, a transfer to Bradley.  The flight is going well and I decide to take a nap since I have a few hours and just hadn't got the sleep I needed in the past week.

Jump forward a couple hours and we're landing.  Just as we're about to touch down, I wake up.  Still kinda disoriented though, I start to move around and stretch.  The guy sitting next to me ate my sandwich (which I didn't even realize til later in the terminal, douche), the stewardess took both my drinks (the one provided to me on my flight, as well as the one I purchased before boarding the plane), and to top it off I feel something awry in my pants.

At first I thought I pissed a little, maybe even the chance of a wet fart (when you've got both Crohn's Disease and Ulcerative Colitis, these things tend to happen more often than not).  But after a quick rub of my thighs together I realized instantly what it was.  Yes, I had in fact Jizzed in my Pants.

But here's the kicker, during my nap (5 hours by the way) I didn't dream at all.  I woke up and realized this so quickly, that I was able to recall what I dreamed about, and it was absolutely nothing.

What had happened was that the pressure inside the plane, caused by the swift rise in elevation, had caused my dick to drop my load (which I was planning to use on my girlfriend back home, FUUUUCCCCKKKKK MEEEEEE!!!) inside my briefs.  To make matters worse, because there was so much, the smell was very noticeable and I had no idea at what point I had actually ejaculated during the flight.

I couldn't get up to use the bathroom because we were just landing, but also because I was stuck in the middle seat, between a very heavy set person on the window side (I say person because I could not, for the life of me, tell what gender they were) and a young girl (maybe 12 or 13) sitting in the aisle across from her parents.

As I waited for the plane to empty (I had time being in the 24th row), I grabbed my things and as soon as I had room to get up, I rushed through the line of people.  Moving as quickly as I could, not knowing just how much cum was actually dangling in my boxer briefs, I headed straight for the men's room.

I go to the last stall, you know, that awesome, massively huge handicapped one, where you could setup camp if you really wanted to?  I had put my things down, carefully dropped my pants, and started to peer inside.  What I saw, amazed the shit outta me (literally, I took quite a large dump after I got myself "cleaned" up).

Hanging in the bottom of my boxers, is what can only be described as a cup of semen.  As in a measuring cup, as in 8 ounces, just swaying back and forth in my boxers, like a kid whose balls had just dropped.  I removed them, and as I started emptying it into the toilet, it just made a very loud plop.

There was still one very large problem though, I didn't have a spare pair of underwear with me, my suitcase was checked and what I had on me were only a jacket, my computer and phone, and bottles of oxys and valiums.

I decided that there's only one way to do this, We're gonna go COMMANDO!... in a terminal, with many families, made up of mostly young children, butt-loads of security, which can just up and decide to throw you on a "no-fly list", as well as real clothing stores that cost a fortune.

I finished cleaning myself up, pulled up my shorts, and headed back out into the terminal.

Now if you've ever gone commando before, you know that it's an exhuberant and free-feeling experience, and being in public just ups the anti.  But as I'm walking around though, looking at store after store, getting some ideas for lunch, a thought flashes through my mind. 

"What if that was just the start?  What if I'm due for another expedition in the land down under?  Then I'm gonna splooge all over my shorts and I'll be really fucked."

With just over $45 on my bank card, I get a map for the terminal directory and start browsing the different stores and kiosks in the terminal.  The selection of stores is large, it is O'Hare, but the ones that sell actual clothing, not just sundries, the places where you can get socks, shoes, and in my case, some kind of underwear are far and few between.  My flight was set to leave in just over half an hour, so I still needed to grab something to eat as well as fix the situation at hand.

I eventually ended up at a higher end, men's clothing store, not dissimilar to Men's Warehouse.  I start browsing, seeing if I can find the briefs myself or at least get something else with my purchase,  as not to draw attention to the fact that I needed just one pair of underwear.  But no, I had to ask the creepy old guy behind the counter, who had a very noticeable boner as soon as he came around and started leading me to the undergarments section.

He brought me to the small rack of underwear.  The selection isn't all that bad, but most of it wasn't my size.  I did have another option, to get a man thong, but let's be honest, I'm wasn't that desperate.  There was one pair that did catch my eye though.  They were red boxers, satin even, that were on sale for $15. Sure, a little more than I was looking to spend, but what choices did I have and they had a funny phrase saying, "I'd Fuck You" in large font.

I brought them to the counter, and the old man let out a chuckle, I didn't even think anything of it at the time.  I was in such a rush to change and catch my flight, that  I paid for them, threw those new bad boys on, grabbed a bite to eat, and boarded my plane.

Fast forward 8 hours.

I'm in bed later that night, showered and all, getting ready to bang my girl, when suddenly she starts laughing hysterically.  So I ask her, "What?  What's so funny?"

"Your boxers," she replies, "they're hysterical."

I look down, no longer do they say "I'd Fuck You", but they've also added "...Like When I Spent That Night in Prison".  Apparently these satin boxers are heat sensitive, and when the moment's right, the rest of the hidden phrase pops up.  Upon closer inspection of the attached inner tag, the boxers are for pranking your buddies.

Needless to say, I still got laid that night, and there was a part two of my week long buildup.

The moral of the story, if a creepy old guy, with a boner, is behind the counter of a men's clothing store and you're just buying a pair of boxers, ask him what's so funny.  Because either you failed on your choice of clothing or he wants to bone you in the dressing room.
Uploaded 08/09/2011
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