Just My Luck
This story is © The Little Pervert.
I remember when I was in 5th grade, my parents where talking about sending me to a catholic high school when I was old enough grades 9-12. This was like 40 years ago and we lived in a big city, so there were at least fifteen high schools to choose from. The only Catholic school was located downtown in a bad section of town.
The school itself, some 40 or 50 years old, was a total eye-sore, a blot on download. Only 300 students attended it, and being catholic, it meant my parents had to pay about $1,200 a year for my tuition. Not so very many people could afford to send their kids there, and those who could had more sense and re-located to better neighborhoods.
The local authorities made the decision to demolish the old school and replace it with a modern building. Before taking the plunge, they wanted to get some estimate of how many students it would need to accommodate. Surveys were conducted, but that didn't really tell anyone anything useful.
The new school was built, and despite runnings ads in the newspapers and on local radio, the number of students only rose to 375. The school had been built to accommodate 600. Over time, things improved and students numbers steadily climbed until the school was at capacity.
The main oversight while planning the school was with the number of bathrooms: there was one for the boys and one for the girls on each of the two floors. In the boys room, there were seven urinals and five toilets, while in each of the girls rooms there were only 8 cubicles, making 16 in all to share between 400 girls.
Classes at the school ran for 55 minutes with only a 5-minute break to get to one's locker, visit the bathroom if necessary and get to the next class on time. It was tight if one didn't need to pee; it was disastrous if one did!
After 1st period, it was normal to find about 25 girls who needed to use the toilet, and it typically took about a minute to reach the bathroom. This left a total of 25 girls only 3 minutes to get the job done. Maybe 2 girls got to use each toilet in each bathroom during that 3-minute period, so that only 8 went on to their next class in a state of relief, while each of the other 17 girls had to go on with an uncomfortably-full bladder.
This scenario would be repeated after the second period, raising the number of Uncomfortable female students to 34, some of them holding it since the first perios and getting pretty desperate to pee. After every period, this number increased until the whole school seemed to be full of desperate girls going from class to class without being able to relieve themselves.
During the lessons, some of the girls would ask the teacher in class if they could go to the bathroom, and if they were lucky enough to have an understanding teacher, they would be able to run off to the bathroom and let it all go. Not all of the teachers were that understanding, so every day there would be a few unfortunate girls who would be denied a bathroom break who would just have to go on holding it.
As the day wore on, the problem would get worse and worse with more and more girls dying to pee, and more and more of them would ask - almost beg - their teachers to let them go. The number asking would sometimes reach 4 or 5 in each class. At best, the more strict among the teachers would let one or two of the girls go, but then they would grow impatient with the repeated requests and would make the remaining girls wait until after class.
So, this is how it plays out everyday at the school. From the ranks of the 9th-to-12 graders, there were probably 3 or 4 girls each year who actually wet their pants in class. Most frequently, this humiliation would fall to the freshman and sophmores, but every once in a while a junior or senior would get caught out. To my knowledge, two seniors ended up in this situation. One of them was Barb, whose dilemma was described in the story Getting Even; the other was named Jill, and this is her story.
Jill's embarrassing accident took place around about the middle of our senior year. We lunched in the cafateria, and afterwards one either stayed put or went outside; roaming the halls of the school during the lunch hour was not permitted. Usually, we would go outside and talk. On a few of those occasions, the conversation would turn to having to go to the bathroom and the fact that there just isn't enough time between classes, especially for the girls. Some of the girls would talk about occasions when they ended up pissing themselves because they simply could hold it any longer. The guys would be all ears.
You might be thinking, fuck it, just get up and go to the bathroom whatever the teacher said. But there was a lot at stake. Some teachers would actually block the doorway to prevent students leaving, but that didn't happen too often. The real threat was the fact that defying a teacher usually got one a detention. Three detentions meant suspension from school; three suspentions added up to expulsion, for good. As said at the beginning of this story, it was a Catholic school and man, were they ever strict! So, you walked the straight and narrow, and if you did that, the teachers would generally leave you alone.
I have a sneaking suspicion that some of the teachers enjoyed watching the girls squirm in desperation. I knew exactly how they felt, although I would never dared to admit it.
Back to Jill: she was 5 feet 5 inches tall and about 120lbs in weight, very shy and modest, and rumored to be a virgin. She was a really sweet girl, very easy on the eye if you know what I mean. She did her best to conform, never wearing her skirt too long or to short; always well-poised - some would describe it as lady-like.
One particular lunch time when we were outside chatting. Her boyfriend usually went out of the school to get something to eat, and on this day he brought back a 64-ounce drink for her to share with him. They took turns sipping out of the cup, and when Jill's boyfriend got up to talk to some other people, he left her there with the big cup still three-quarters full of liquid. Jill stood there sipping absently at it as she chatted, drinking more or less the entire 45 minutes we were out there. Suddenly realizing that it was time for class again, we started for the entrance to the school. The cup was almost empty, and when Jill's boyfriend joined her again, he complained that she'd finished most of his drink.
If she'd realized the time, I'm certain Jill would have planned a visit to the bathroom before class, but as we entered the school we found several teachers watching the halls and the doors, urging us all to class. Even so, Jill did make a dash into the bathroom, but she emerged almost at once saying it was too crowded. She didn't seem to be worried because we were heading for a class where the teacher was one of the more lenient types who always let students out to use the bathroom when they asked. All the same, I couldn't help wondering how quickly Jill's desire to pee would grow after drinking almost three pinks of soda over lunch.
When we reached the classroom, we were all surprised to find a different teacher taking the lesson, one of the less accommodating ones who might just as easily deny as grant a bathroom visit.
The unspoken rule about asking to use the bathroom during class was to wait for at least 20 minutes so that the teacher didn't think we were messing about and deliberately wasting lesson time. I noticed that Jill didn't say anything, not even after twenty minutes had passed. She actually managed to hold on for 35 minutes before her hand went up and she made the inevitable request. I couldn't believe my ears when the teacher said no, she would have to wait until after class. I knew Jill's bladder hadf to be close to bursting, and I started to watch her more closely to see how she was coping with her situation.
I thought there was a chance that Jill might wet herself, but with a lot of leg crossing and squirming in her seat, she managed to last the full 55 minutes without an accident. I made sure I was close behind her and her friend as they left the classroom, close enough to hear Jill say that she was about to piss her pants. The bathrooms were a minute away at a fast walk, and as she hurried and hobbled along the corridor, Jill was saying that she hoped she would be able to use the bathroom because the next period was a double one, a 90-minute lesson with a real asshole for a teacher who never, NEVER let anyone go during class. And it was a big class, 150 students. That's a lot of potential embarrassment.
Jill's friend suggested that, if necessary, she just use the bathroom and arrive a bit late for the class, but Jill didn't want to break the rules, especially not in ther asshole's class. I couldn't follow her al the way to the girls toilets without it being pretty obvious what I was doing, so I joined the line outside the classroom and hoped that the bathroom would be busy. My prayer must have been answered, because about a minute later, Jill and her friend joined the line a few places behind me. I could tell from her anxious expression that she had not been able to pee, and suddenly, I found myself looking forward to the asshole's class more than I'd ever done in my life before.
Jill must have been seriously desperate to piss as went filed into the lecture room because she went straight up to the asshole and, while I couldn't hear what she said to him, I was positive she was asking his permission to go back and use the toilet. His voice was a lot louder than hers, and I clearly heard him tell her no, that she should have gone before coming to class, and that she had better sit down.
Poor Jill lowered her head in embarrasssment, and without another word, walked to a seat not far away from me, a very worried look on her face. Spotting an empty seat on one side of her, I quickly got up and moved to sit bedise her. I had to be right there for this; it was too good an opportunity to risk having some oversize bozo blocking my view. I couldn't stop thinking about the size of the soda cup from which Jill had spent almost the entire lunch break sipping. As class got underway, I saw that she was just sitting still with her legs together, showing no signs of desperation at all, other than a worried frown on her normally unlined face.
Looking around, I saw that there were actually two teachers present, one giving the lecture and the other standing by the door as if to make sure none of the 150-strong class slipped away unnoticed. There didn't seem to be any hope of escape for Jill.
As the lecture progressed, I kept stealing glances at Jill, waiting for the telltale signs that she was in trouble. She managed to maintain her composure for the first thirty minutes, glancing up at the clock at regular intervals as if counting the minutes until her ordeal would be over. Thirty-five minutes; forty, forty-five. That was when it happened: Jill very discreetly put her hand between her legs for a quick squeeze, her body squirming just for a moment. The lapse in her composure lasted only about two seconds and I might easily have missed it if I had not been watching out for it. She abrupted removed her hand from her crotch and sat looking normal again, except for her eyes. When she glanced my way and gave me a fleeting smile, I noticed that her eyes had a glazed look to them, as if she were not really seeing the room at all. Perhaps she was seeing the bathroom in her mind, or maybe she was trying to concentrate on something that would take her mind off what had to be a very urgent desire to piss.
The time crawled on... 50 minutes; 55, 56, 57...
With 33 minutes still to go in this interminably boring lesson, Jill glanced quickly around to see if anyone was watching her, then for the second time, she plunged her hand between her thighs, this time wrapping her legs around the legs of the desk. She sat up very stiffly in her seat and slowly started rocking back and forth. In a momentary lull in the lecture, I caught the sound of a slight moan as it escaped from her closed mouth.
Jill was obviously making a monumental effort to sit still again, but she couldn't stop her body from struggling now. A few minutes later, her right leg started bouncing up and down while she just stared at the clock, seemingly willing the time to move faster. It didn't.
Jill was now in serious trouble. Her composure was slipping as, still with 25 minutes of the lesson still to go, she raised her hand to ask the teacher by the door this time if she could go to the bathroom. He shook his head no. Jill began to pleasd with him, saying she was really desperate and couldn't wait much longer, but still the guard on the door refused to release her from her torture. Some of the nearby students had overheard Jill's words and some of them started giggling and spreading the word that Jill she ha to pee real bad.
I watched her overtly, noticing how quickly she was losing her composure now, and I knew there was a very good chance that I was going to witness her pee her pants. I was all excited, but at the same time I couldn't help feeling pity for her. That's the conflict I always felt when a girl was suffering, but I still couldn't help watching with excitement, part of me willing her not to make it.
With 20 minutes left in class, the loud speaker burted out that I was wanted in the admin. Office. I cursed as I ran all the way there, anxious to hurry back so that I didn't miss the show. When I arrived in the office, I was informed that I owed the cafeteria $5 from some credit they'd extended me the week before. Fuming at the pettiness of the whole thing (calling me out of class just for this), I paid the money I owed and literally ran back to class. Everone was pouring out as I approached, and I swore bitterly at the turn of fate that had deprived me of watching Jill wet herself.
Then, in the middle of my silent rage, I spotted Jill literally running toward me and the bathroom located behind me. She was only about ten feet away from me when she reached the door to the toilers and slammed her hip into it, forcing it open. She darted inside, and sighing in resignation, I continued walking towards the classroom, thinking the teacher must have finally relented and let Jill go to the bathroom. As I walk, I can't help but notice a drip here and a drop There on the floor, and I realized that she had started to piss her pants as she was running.
Back in the class, I hear some of the other students talking and looking around. When I took my seat, I looked down to see a huge puddle under Jill's desk. She had pissed an entire lake on the floor. Just my luck.
Suddenly inspired, I stood up again and told the teacher the the office staff were sending me home. The teaher begrudingly agreed to let me leave, and pausing to pick up Jill's books and purse, I went back into the corridor and went to the door of the girl's bathroom. I pushed it open and called hello. Jill asked who it was, so I explained that I had her stuff to save her from going back into the classroom to retrieve them. She thanked me, and I asked her if there was anything I could do. She asked me to call her brother to come and pick her up in his car, and when I agreed she gave me her phone number. Throughout our exchange, she stayed in hiding, unwilling to let me see her. If only she could have known how badly I wanted to see the wetness on her clothes, although with hindsight I know it was best that she didn't know.
Reluctantly, I set her books and purse down just inside the door of the bathroom. I was just heading for the office and the only phone I could use to make the call to Jill's brother, when it struck me that I could offer her a ride home myself. I went back and proposed my idea. To my surprise and relief, she said yes, would I please. I told her to hurry since the bell would soon ring to signal the next change of class. Afriad to face a whole corridor full of laughing students, Jill came out then. Her face was bright red with embarrassment, tears streaming down her face, and my heart went out to her. That didn't stop me walking behind her so that I could get a good look at her wet butt. The wet patch was about the size of a dinner plate, maybe a little bigger.
As we climb into my car, she thanks for taking her home, adding that she'd actually dreaded the thought of having to call her brother to pick her up because he would certainly have made fun of her for weeks.
When we reached her house, she actually invited me in. Inside the front door, there were seven steps that led up to the living room, and I couldn't stop myself leaning forward enough to take a peek up her skirt in the hope of glimpsing her wet panties. I don't know if she knew what I was doing, but she dashed off, calling over her shoulder that she had to clean up and change her clothes, and would be right back.
I waited a few minutes, and when she reappeared she was wearing a pair of pink and a white t-shirt. She came straight up to me and gave me a big hug, thanking me again for bringing her home. A little ruefully, she said it was bad enough to pissed her pants in class, but it would have been far worse to have her older brother find out.
I stayed for maybe an hour, and was just getting ready to leave when Jill thaked me yet again, this time holding my hand as she did so. I left feeling vaguely guilty for the thril I'd got out of the poor girl's humiliation, and almost wished that it didn't turn me on so much. After all, Jill was a real sweetheart.
Soon after I got home, a girl friend who had been in the same class called me to tell me that, right after I left for the office, Jill had raised her hand again and asked to be allowed to use the bathroom. When permission was denied once more, she had sat rocking with both hands between her legs and squiming in agony, looking around the room and at the clock. Then, all of a sudden, she had frozen in her seat, her eyes getting real wide as her face went red. The girl said that Jill held her breath for the longest time until she must have been about to suffocate, then tried to suck in more air without letting any out. Her cheeks had turned scarlet from the strain of holding on, and her body was visible shaking. Unable to hold it any more, she let all the air out in an explosive gasp which turned into a sigh of relief as a loud hissing sound filled the room. Jill began to cry as her pee spilled over the edges of her seat and splattered noisily on the floor. Unable to bear sitting there any longer, she had jumped up and run from the classroom, still peeing herself as she went.
I'd missed it all, but the pay off was that I got to drive Jill home and spend time with her. I think it all turned out for the best in the end.
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