City Market

[Tytn]

He’d arrived at the stall before 5am, it was dark and quiet, and as he stood there in the cold morning, wrapped up with his fleece and coat on drinking a cup of steaming hot black coffee he waited. It was a clear sky right now, a blue tint that was getting lighter in the corner but that was it, and then the engines started up. Distant yet near both large and small, some coughing into life and the others just droning into hearing range, then headlights after headlights pulled into the wide pathway area. He turned away from the bright lights and checked his still was ready and tidy. It was, he always left it overnight clean and tidy and although today was only his third he was getting more into it now.

Other people were wondering through now in singles and doubles, some groups of three but not many. Most dressed in dull workwear type clothes, large coats, hats, gloves. Some carried backpacks or carrier bags with whatever they needed but most seemed to just moved past in a hurry and head down rather than talking quietly as the groups did.

The small Bedford Rascal van turned up, creaking and low on it’s springs. The driver got out and they uttered a greeting before the back and side doors opened and the produce, green, orange, purple and some shining yellows; fresh fruit and vegetables, were lined up and stacked on the racks. He already knew the order and as they were stacked and loaded onto his stall he stuck in the double sided labels with their name tags so he could identify what they were and the prices to go with it. Best way for him, the boss had said. Of course, the boss knew all of them by heart anyway, but he was new and had to learn.

It was hard work leaning and lifting, then carrying. He had learnt not to lift and twist, had been told but knew he always slipped up at some point but tried to remember this. He paused for a breather and then went back to the van for the large sacks of potatoes and other things. He hadn’t fully identified all of these vegetables but he’d soon get the hang of it.

It was gone 5.40 when the final piece was in place and already a few shoppers were wondering through the market. He had a stretch and the loader offered up a silver flask
“oh why not” he replied and held out his now empty coffee cup. Normally he’d have just the one but he was feeling a bit more tired today so accepted another black steaming cup of coffee, and after handing over the change float the driver bid his farewell and drove off slowly, orange corner lights winking and giving patterns off. He couldn’t understand why you needed hazard lights on as if they would magically help if people didn’t see the small van with headlights on and a loud rumbling diesel.

He examined his wares and then glanced around. The semi indoor market would be heaving later and already the other stalls were setup and ready, Most were double manned, but his wasn’t. It didn’t need to be, it was always pretty quiet.

His duty was on until 12 noon! He didn’t even want to think how long that would be but was glad he’d had a bite to eat earlier. Last year he’d been in College doing business studies and this year he’d landed this slot of ‘work experience’ and ‘real business experience’, and here he was. Cold and stiff, tired and brain fazed at some silly time in the morning, but it was, he knew, valuable experience!

The stalls on either side had other vegetables, more exotic ones and the other side of the passage were fish; he could smell them from here, and was glad he’d eaten ages ago.

The first customer broke him from his daydreaming and he bagged up the items she had selected in brown paper bags, and made a note of each sale as he’d been shown, just a shorthand with the time in the corner as she chose various things. The total amount came to just over £20 and after paying he stuck the note on the spike off to one side and cash into the ‘money belt’ he had been issued. Well, he had an apron on and change sat in the front of that that jangled on his belly and notes went in his pocket. He had been advised to do it this way just in case some wind caught it, and also it was easy to fall out. He hadn’t found out how yet but knew he’d get the chance eventually to screw it up!

Before long the flow of customers wanting their fresh veggies were flowing quite well. He’d had a few note pages that all it listed was the price they’d paid before going on the spike, and he had already made a note of the float figure when he’d started. He didn’t even think of thinking about the cash he carried in his pockets, it wasn’t his money anyway but even so, just keep it safe was his thoughts.

When he had quiet moments he’d slip it out and keep fifty pounds ‘available’ and the rest in his deeper zipped up pocket. Change was varied but he kept the two pound coins back too.

It slowed at about 8am and he had the chance to finish off the dregs of his cold coffee, then leaned back against the stall for a moment to relax, only a minute mind, then he was grabbing more produce from the racks under the table to stock those on top.

As he bent over he felt a twinge in his gut and just figured that he’d twisted and lifted or something so remembered to take more care, he didn’t want to put his back out. By the time he’d done that, the flow had picked up again. This batch were smarter looking and carried trolleys on wheels as they asked for particular orders of things and as each were bagged up and put in the trolleys, a divider was placed over them. He had already got talking to one earlier who revealed that they did the shopping for their street, visiting the markets on different days to get what was needed, spending hundreds of pounds and spending their time looking after their street for food needs, and then delivering them later in the day when they got home from work. It sounded a novel idea, and the second day they’d chatted he found out this guy was married to a ‘high flyer’ in ‘the city’ and didn’t need to even work they got paid so much, but he liked that kinda thing.

By 9am things slowed again and that twinge returned, but it wasn’t his back. He glanced guiltily at the coffee mug, empty and cold now and knew he shouldn’t have had that extra mug from the delivery guy. He’d already had a fresh coffee when he got up that morning at oh dark o’clock then another coffee when he got here… and that third from the delivery guy! He’d not had 3 cups in one morning before, no wonder he’d had that twinge. He’d never seen the toilets around here before, he wasn’t even sure they existed!!! But he had work to do, the boss would be in at noon and they’d change over and he could go and…. Well, he already knew take a leak and berate himself for being a dolt. He was sure he could wait, it was only another 3 hours.

Three hours! What was he thinking! Even after one coffee when he was younger he couldn’t wait after ONE coffee for that long, and now as the clock in the hall over the entrance clicked on he tried to ignore the building pressure in his gut, the low down sting, the upper ache. The dry lips, the urge not to move anywhere but then, later, when it got worse, the urge to clench his legs together, to lean forwards and back to try to ease the ache. The stubborn persistent ache of his full bladder, and the pain still growing, the contents still being added too and a thought in his mind, just starting, asking how long could he… what would happen if… could he use the cup? That thought was banquished immediately, as he knew he’d be spotted. The stalls weren't that secluded and people could see all the way into his ‘pit’ and would even know if he’d stopped to use the cup like that, and then he’d be out of the job!

No, he had to hold it and he could. He was a man now, granted a young man, but he was in his late teens and despite being strong enough to hump these bags and boxes around, 25kgs not really a problem, he’d not tested himself in other ways for a long time.

Shafts of warm sunlight poured in between the stalls, and from the gaps up above, and they felt nice and warm and settling, despite his troubles, and then almost as if on queue, he spotted a few younger members of shoppers. They weren’t as closely dressed as other shoppers were, and revealed more, his gaze lingering where it shouldn't.

It was at this moment his other troubles were forgotten as his morning wood popped up and, like an awkward teenager, he spent a bit of time trying to hide his bodies natural reaction as he served them as if nothing was wrong. He could hide that, he’d had experience and planning for that, but, well, his bladder was insistent. Full and aching, he had to empty it… but couldn’t. He recalled occasional trips out in the car, a pub stop then after a couple of drinks a nice drive that always ended up back at the house with an urgent sprint to the house or a nearby bush on the quiet lane they lived to empty his aching bladder, and he always thought he was ‘stronger’ and more adept than others needing to go ‘every 5 minutes’.

Right now that didn’t matter as he gritted his teeth, squirmed his hips and legs around and generally tried to keep himself occupied away from ‘the problem’.

It took an age to reach 10am and by then he had slipped off his coat and his fleece, it was too hot, but he still couldn’t get cool. He felt his face warm and despite his pacing and frequent chances to clench himself, close his legs and internally squeeze to hold himself back, moving the heavy change away from his belly he felt quite unsteady, weak and infirm. The one pulsating incredible agony above his legs was incredible and he really considered the cup now! Perhaps he could kneel down and pretend to be… well, doing something other than what he wanted to do so much. But he couldn’t and wouldn’t, he knew the boss would find out, but the boss would find out as well if he wet himself. That thought terrified him, he’d be mortified but at the same time would probably lose the job and the position, get slung out of college or at least get demerits for it! Even occasional reaches down under the money pile for a squeeze on his aching cock, urging for use and growing hard and soft on it's own whim made him want to dash out and find a place to go but he held back, and tried not to think about it.

The customers were backing off now, it was getting quieter and he recalled being told there was going to be a rush at 11am too, and then the boss would take over! But that was still… over an hour and a half, and he was getting close to thinking that even 15 minutes was too long. Face flushed, and feeling sick and one big giant ball of piss he tried to stand still and that didn’t help either

“So you’re new here then” came the voice, he glanced up, broken from his revere
“Yeah, mornings for Mr Tu…”
“Old Alf” we call him and the lad smiled, he was his age, light brown almost blond hair, a few freckles, pudgy face and shorter than he was, a dark green fleece with hands stuffed in pockets and an apron poking out under his fleece covering his groin, then dark coloured jeans under that down to black work boots
“Yeah, well, he’s in at noon, and so I’m covering the morning for him… Did he used to do it or had someone else in?”
“His lass I think, she runs this place now” he grinned
“Hard worker then?”
“Alice? Hell no, always the prankster but knew how to improve this place and thrust herself into the limelight with the bosses and got in there, the good girl that she was”
“You say that with a smile, was it something a bit ‘ooh er’ then?
“Nah, she just cornered the boss near the loo’s one morning and got an appointment to see him then” he blanched, just thinking about such things, he felt almost faint and knew he’d have to find those loo’s”
“So, there are toilets here then?”
“Nah, not for us, we’ve gotta wait”
“Huh? How is that fair?”
“The old ones got torn down, they’ve not built the new ones yet, but, er, I take it…” he nodded
“Yes!” he cried out
“What?”
“We’ve been watching you from the fish side, your dancing, we figured…” he grinned, a nod was returned
“Gotta go” he hissed quietly
“Righto, so, er, you gonna… or wait for Old Alf?”
“What do you think?” he asked sarcastically
“Wait then”
“Bollocks no, I can’t, I’m busting” he groaned “Sure there isn’t…”
“I’ll get some cover for you and we’ll go for a walk” he quickly fumbled through his pockets and bought out a small pile of change, and sticking it on the counter just as another guy came over. Older guy, wearing a storemans coat and had a notebook
“Right then, so you need a wander, and that’s…”
“Twenty in change there, and if you make a sale…”
“….aye, note it on there and slip it under the spike. Done it before, so away with you and I’ll be here when you return…” he blushed and nodded and slipping the change from his own bib into his fleece pockets, the fleece slipped on top he painfully staggered out from behind the stall. He desperately wanted to hold himself but couldn’t so tried to ignore it but every footfall sent a jarring agony up through his body, his bladder spasming with every jolt and pain. He followed the lad along the path then behind some stalls and out into an alley. He wasn’t sure if it was cold sweat but he was sure his underwear felt damper, the top of his legs felt warmer, the horrified thought slipped through him but he tried to ignore it. He saw heaven.

There was a trough, a slated dip and it ran along to a drain. Already there were a pair of older guys there, who merely touched the brims of their cloth caps with one hand whilst revealing their tackle dangling and leaking in the other hand.

He slipped up to the wall near the door and his new mate stepped up next to him. His flies, fumbled with, and then they were down and his tackle out. he felt the cool air, then heard than anything else, it start.

The pressure lance that it was gushed out and after a moment he let out a groan. The lad next to him looked surprised

"Wow, you really had to go, didn’t you!"
yeah" he moaned in exquisite relief. On and on, it gushed. It didn’t seem to end, to even slow, and the pain just ceased to be a problem, but still it gushed out. Splattering hard enough against the far wall he had to guide it so it didn’t splashback.

The older guys left, grinning, and slapped him friendly on the back. He was still in heaven

[Brian]

One of my favourite photos ever, unfortunately no longer available to my knowledge because it was posted on a WS site which closed down a few years ago, was of a fruit and veg market with this guy in his twenties serving behind the tomatoes, looking anxious and holding himself. You could see that desperation in his eyes and the obvious thought going through his mind that he wasn't going to be able to hold on for the rest of his shift. If anyone remembers this photo and knows of any site where it's currently posted, I'd love to know.

This story captures the nervous desperation so well. I bet this happens more often than we know to guys who are stuck there selling the market wares!

[bodgyuk]

I remember the photograph you are thinking of. The site was taken over and became a paywalled site, I think it is still around - ***peepants is the lady who took it over.

[Brian]

I remember the photograph you are thinking of. The site was taken over and became a paywalled site, I think it is still around - ***peepants is the lady who took it over.

Oh yes, you're right, I remember now too, it was indeed taken over. And it's amazing you remember that photo too out of the thousands that were there! The really good ones stick in our collective minds, don't they? And stories like Tytn's one above evoke the memories.

[googlism2008]

Finally got round to read this story. Great one, Tytn!
(There's still a huge backlog of stories on this site to be read, sorry guys!)

By the way, I think you guys are talking about this photo:

[Fred]

Splendid photo for this splendid story! He does look worried, and his hand shows us why.

[Brian]

Yes, that's the photo I meant! Thanks!!

[Malepee]

Great story, great picture!

[evergreen]

That picture is amazing, It says everything!

[BottleBlaze]

Great story!! Love the visual of all the men uaing the trough with the new guy releasing all that hes got.

Thanks for sharing.