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Tucker Max, The pee blame
The pee blame 
by: Tucker Max

Tucker Max Home / Vices ChannelEntertainment Channel / Bullz-Eye Home

Want to read more of Tucker Max's tales of belligerence & debauchery? Visit!


When I lived in Austin, I met some of the guys in a frat at the University of Texas. They were pretty cool (read: they worshiped me), so one weekend I accepted an invite to a party they were throwing.

Let me pause here for a moment to explain something to all of you out there who didn’t go to college. The easiest place to get laid on earth (without paying) is an American college campus. And the easiest place on a college campus to get laid is a frat party. You don’t need ANY game to get laid at a frat party. You generally don’t need much game to pick up 18-21 year old girls anyway, but college frat parties are ridiculous. It’s like a clearance sale in the pussy aisle at the hook-up store; Everything Must Go! No Reasonable Offer Refused!

One girl in particular drove this point home for me. Towards the end of the night, I was walking to the bathroom to urinate, when I saw a girl I had been talking to earlier. I called her over to me and explained my problem, “I’m drunk and can’t undo my jeans. I need to get them off or I’ll pee in my pants.”

I fully expected her to look at me like I had just told her to kick a kitten into a wood chipper. I mean, come on—who would buy that stupid line?

A drunk college girl at a frat party, that’s who.

She laughed, remembered my name from earlier, told me I was cute, and undid my jeans for me. Well…fuck me, it’s time to push it. After all, the only way to see how far she’ll go is to ask, “Will you hold it for me; I’m going to pee on my hands if I try to do it.”

She laughed again, led me into the bathroom, and though she declined to actually hold my penis while I pissed, she did stand behind me, hold my hips and say, “I’ll stand here and be a spotter for you.”

Tucker being Tucker, I decide to test her spotter skills. I pissed on the wall to the right side of the urinal, and she laughed and said, “Move left.” I shifted all the way to the left, and pissed on the wall to the left of the urinal. She giggled and kind of nudged my hips so that I peed in the urinal. Meanwhile, she checked out my package the whole time; I guess this was her idea of foreplay.

She then zipped my jeans back up, being considerate and observant enough to make sure not to catch my penis in the zipper, and we got another beer together. I honestly don’t remember what I said to her over the next ten minutes, but it ended with, “Let’s get out of here,” and her following me home. I only lived like a block away from the frat house, so this worked out well, as my driving skills at this point would have been about equivalent to a narcoleptic chimpanzee with palsy.

At my place, clothes come off and fucking starts. I am completely shit-housed drunk AND wearing a condom…yeeeah, Tucker is not coming tonight. I had a hard-on, but Jenna Jamison on prison quality crystal meth wouldn’t have had enough energy and skill to get me off.

I started to slow down because I wasn’t going to come and I was tired and drunk, but she was into it, and told me to keep going. What? Fine, I go for another five minutes, get bored and stop…and AGAIN she tells me to keep going because she is close.

Well, thanks bitch -- I’M NOT.

I start pumping again, but the situation quickly becomes intolerable: I can’t feel anything, the latex is chafing, and I am so drunk I am about to vomit. Without anymore options, I do something I have never done before, and honestly didn’t even think guys could do:

I faked it.

I swear to all I find holy (i.e. open bars, hot women and money I don’t have to work for), I pumped real hard for 10 seconds and then collapsed. She kind of let out a sigh, and said she wished I had kept going because she was almost there. I started laughing, "Yeah, well my penis has a mind of its own." We both pass out, me giggling to myself about how sneaky I am.

Fast forward to the next morning:

I wake up completely covered in urine. I know it’s urine because it SMELLS. I know it’s me because my side of the bed is soaked, and she is on the other side of the bed and only slightly wet on her side, not her crotch.

The irony of this is revolting. Not even two months earlier, a girl did this to my bed, and I made fun of her ruthlessly for it. Yes, the gods of alcohol obviously have a sense of humor, and yes, they are using it to mock at me.

My bed is completely fucked up. There is piss everywhere. What do I do? Do I just accept that fact that I am some sort of incontinent buffoon who wets his bed?

No. I decide to stand against the gods, to deny them their pleasure at my expense and to change their bankrupt prophecy. Tucker Max does not bow to fate.

I get up and change my clothes, throwing my piss stained t-shirt into the washer. I delicately roll her onto my side of the bed, the urine-soaked side, and then pour some lukewarm water on her crotch. As I do this, she starts waking up, so I shake her to confuse her and yell, "Wake up. WAKE UP!”

She slowly wakes up, looks around, and is obviously still drunk. Before she can even process what is going on I tell her to look down. She sees the massive dark stain and feels her wet shirt (Ed note: We both had shirts on, as we were too drunk/horny to fully disrobe before fucking). I help her out in case she is still confused:

Tucker "You fucking pissed my bed. You PISSED in my BED.”
Girl "What?” She reached down and touched the sheets, “OH MY GOD!”
Tucker "Why would you do this? Could you not find the toilet?”
Girl "No...I...this never...I've never -- oh dear god!”
Tucker "God is not going to clean this piss up.”
Girl "I’m so sorry, I’ve never...I can’t believe I was that drunk. I am so embarrassed.”
Tucker "No shit. I’d be embarrassed too if I pissed in someone’s bed.”

I got up and went to the bathroom because I just couldn’t hold in my laughter anymore. I came back to my bedroom and she was standing there, in utter disbelief, staring at the bed, nearly in tears. She turns to me and says,

"I can’t believe I drank that much last night…I still have to pee right now! How could I pee all that out in my sleep and still need to pee more in the morning???”

I almost lost it again. I had to leave the room, pretending to be in anger but nearly biting through my hand to suppress the laughter. I got into the shower and laughed for a good ten minutes while in there.

When I got out she had already stripped the sheets and put them in the washer, on top of my piss clothes that she didn’t notice. She apologized about 100 times, wrote me a check for a new mattress, and then got out of my place as soon as she could. Predictably, she did not leave a number.

I nearly framed the check. I didn’t cash it because even I have limits on how much I will exploit someone. I took all her dignity; I don’t need her money too.

To get in touch with Tucker, visit!


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