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THE FINAL TEST
By Watcher
(Based on the original document April 1996 “TEST ANXIETY” by LAWRENCE MORGAN. Retitled, edited, restructured, and enhanced by WATCHER March 2012)
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I still remember the midterm exam that I gave in the summer semester of '94 like it was yesterday. I was teaching a 4th year Biochemistry course, and had only ten students in the class; Biochemistry. was not a popular course during summer term, because it met five days a week for two solid hours.
There were four guys in the class and six girls. Lyn was the prettiest. She was about twenty-one years old, and just finishing her final year in college. She was also one of my brightest, most attentive students. She was rarely absent, always prepared for class, and usually sat in the front row.
It was a hot day in late May, and Lyn came into class in a white tee shirt with some sort of environmental message on it (I think it was something to do with Earth Day) and a pair of fairly tight khaki shorts. She was barefoot, her sneakers tied to the straps of her backpack.
She had a large soft drink with her, and I could hear the ice sloshing around as she took her seat in the front row. It was about eight minutes before the hour. Other students filed into the room slowly, chatting idly about the exam, the weather, and other things. I looked over the exam one last time, searching for any errors that my teaching assistant might have missed. Lynn took a long drag on the straw of the paper soft drink cup, and I heard the ice protest once again. It sounded like the cup was empty. She searched through her backpack, lines of frustration crossing her face, and finally produced two pencils and an eraser.
I studied her long dark hair, her long tanned legs and her bare feet. I often had trouble taking my eyes off this girl during class. I wished I was younger.
With four minutes to go, I asked the class if there were any last minute questions. Tom, the guy who had been absent most of the quarter, wanted to know about the latest in DNA sequencing technology. A few of the other students groaned. If he hadn't mastered that by now, it was unlikely he would pass this test.
The bell rang. To an observer from another planet, we must have looked like rats in some of sort of operant conditioning experiment. I picked up the stack of exams, and my students cleared their books off their desks. I distributed the exams. Some students began working on the first page immediately while others leafed through the exam to get a general idea of what was involved.
"You should have three sheets with five pages of text," I announced. "Make sure you aren't missing any pages." I then informed the class that they had the whole two hour class period for the exam.
The room was warm, so I went over to the thermostat and adjusted the air conditioning. Then I sat down to read the paper. Exams like this can be incredibly boring for professors. My students were seated far enough apart that I really didn't have to worry too much about cheating. But I had to stay in the room, otherwise the temptation would be too great, especially for someone like Tom. I leafed through the paper, occasionally glancing up to see if anyone was trying to get my attention to ask a question. And of course I would take a peek at Lynn and one or two of the other girls in the class.
After about twenty five minutes, I noticed that Lyn seemed to be shifting her weight and adjusting herself quite a bit. Once she dropped her pencil, and it rolled under another desk. She looked up and leaned forward, but couldn't reach it. So she sat back a bit and retrieved it by grabbing it with her toes. She looked at me briefly and smiled.
She continued to shift her weight from time to time, and it occurred to me that perhaps the soda she had drunk was beginning to catch up with her. If this was the case, I thought to myself, this may well become the most interesting exam I have ever given. Normally my students get a five minute break in the middle of the period; but today no one was permitted to leave the room until they turned in the exam. And I expected even my best students to need most or all of the period for this test. I couldn’t help wondering what Lyn was feeling and thinking at this time. I guessed she was becoming increasingly aware of the mounting pressure, and realising that she would not be able to hold on for the length of the exam.
Some fifteen minutes later, Lyn proved me right. She got up slowly and approached my desk. She leaned toward me, and said in a whisper, "Can I go to the bathroom?" I had to struggle to keep from smiling too broadly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You can't leave the room during the exam," I said gently. She looked down, disappointed.
"Okay," she said quietly.
Well, I thought, this is definitely going to be better than reading the horoscopes for the rest of the exam. I got up to stretch my legs, and walked around the room a bit. I stopped for a side view of Lyn. She now had one leg crossed under the other; the bottom of her right foot was lightly covered with dirt from running around barefoot. One hand held her pencil, while the other rested on her forehead, giving her a look of intense concentration. I wondered if my hard-on was noticeable. But no one in the class was looking at me, of course; everyone was wrapped up in the test.
As the time passed, Lyn's discomfort increased significantly. With about an hour left to the period, Lyn now had her legs crossed with one on top of the other, in the more traditional female style. But after another five minutes, she shifted her position again, this time placing her left leg under her right leg. She looked up at the clock. I was back at my desk now, and she looked at me briefly. I smiled, and she smiled back. She returned to her exam, uncrossing her legs and placing one hand in her lap. A few more minutes went by, and Lyn crossed both her legs in a yoga style.
By this time I was sure that she was feeling very, very desperate. Even though she had smiled at me, I was sure she was frantically trying to hold on. But with just under an hour to go – she must have realised the hopelessness of her situation, her bladder becoming more and more taut as all the liquid she had drunk at the start of the exam percolated its way through her incredible body and ending up, temporarily, in her bladder.
From Lyn's body language, it was clear that she was in a bad way. She knew that her bladder capacity was soon going to be exceeded, and that she was going to have to make a choice between enduring increasingly excruciating pain, or ‘cutting her losses’! I wondered whether she would let go in a desperately controlled spurt, or try to hold on in spite of her agony, while the inevitable slow leakage slowly saturated her panties and showed in the crotch of her shorts.
I actually hoped she would go for the inevitable slow release. That would mean that when she eventually stood up to hand in her paper, the resulting torrent would be much more dramatic.
Anyway, I concluded that Lyn would wet herself before the end of the exam, probably in a controlled manner – at least the first time! And I was very, very aroused in anticipation of what was going to happen!
I got up to walk around again. As I circled the perimeter of the room, I saw Lyn bite her lower lip. She uncrossed her legs once again, this time squeezing them together. I returned to my desk and pretended to look at the paper again.
I was trying to make sure that Lyn did not notice me watching her intently, resting my forehead on my hand as I looked through my fingers at her, hoping that it looked like I was reading the paper on my desk.
Lyn looked incredibly vulnerable, and so alluring. Her body was taught, as she tried to hang on. She wasn't able to squirm around, or jiggle her thighs up and down because that would make it obvious to others what she was going through. All she could do was tighten her muscles to the point where there was a little shake in her thighs from the strain.
Lyn placed the pencil between her teeth and bit down on it. She pressed both hands down into her crotch, leaned back a little, and stretched out her long legs in front of her. Then she seemed to slowly relax, pressing her bare feet on the floor to raise her butt a little off the chair. Then she just closed her eyes and clenched the front edge of the chair with her hands. She crossed her legs once more, looked around nervously. Lyn had long dark shoulder length hair, and I could see some of the hair had ‘slicked’ on her forehead. The exam hall had cooled off a bit with the air-conditioning, so I assumed she was perspiring with the effort of holding on, coupled with the natural anxiety of a girl caught in this situation. I saw her wipe her hand across her forehead, which she then dried off by pressing against her shorts.
From the way Lyn was shifting her position, I was sure this was going to be a deliberate release. I expected the discomfort from her over-stretched bladder was getting too much to tolerate, so she had decided to ‘cut her losses’, letting go and wetting herself for a few seconds to relieve the pressure, without a ‘game over’ scenario. She was probably realising that if she tried to hold on for much longer she would not be able to control the flow.
I was mesmerized, staring at her crotch, expecting the tell-tail dark patch to appear. Lyn looked right at me, and caught me staring at her. She took the pencil from between her teeth and set it on the table. She blushed deep, deep red, flung herself forwards burying her face in her hands and bending down almost touching the desk with her face.
I got up and walked towards her. She saw me coming and immediately placed her hands on the desk and picked up her pencil. As I descended the steps from the platform, she spread her thighs slightly and I saw her crotch glisten darkly as a wet patch spread out for several inches. Just as I reached her, she flung her hands down and pressed them hard over her crotch as she snapped her thighs tightly together.
Lynn’s head was still bent right over the desk, her long dark hair hanging down over her shoulders onto the desk. She was wearing a T-shirt, and I could see the back of her neck was bright red from her blush. The back of her T-shirt was clinging to her skin because of the perspiration.
She looked up at me, and I was sure there were tears in her eyes. “I’m so embarrassed” she whispered, softly so no one else would hear. I had to lean over close to her to hear that she was whispering “I’m so sorry” as she looked down at her paper.
Now of course we faculty had always been reminded that it could be very inappropriate to make physical contact with a student. But I knew that Lyn was in real distress, and very embarrassed, so I just laid my hand gently on her left shoulder and whispered back ‘Don’t worry, just concentrate on your paper for the remaining hour”.
Lyn pressed her damp palm down firmly on the back of my hand which was resting on her left shoulder for two or three seconds, and as she did so she raised her thighs off the seat a little and leaned back.“Thanks” she whispered softly. I had the distinct impression from the way she gently undulated her thighs, that she was wetting herself a little more while clasping her hand over mine.
“Oh no! I’m sorry, my hand is . . . wet . . . .” she gasped breathlessly.
“Lyn” I said softly “You can go to the bathroom if you hand in your paper, and I’ll pro-rate your marks to allow for the shorter time you used.”
“I can’t” she whispered. “As soon as I stand up I’ll – you know, loose it completely in front of everyone. I’ll just have to finish the paper – you understand ?”
I nodded. I understood very well the predicament she was in. As I walked towards the back of the hall, just to check on the other students, I felt the coolness on the back of my hand from Lyn’s moist touch..
I walked back to my desk. I was incredibly aroused. Not only had I seen such a lovely girl wet herself – even if a little – but she had responded positively to my gentle touch on her shoulder. As I passed Lyn I risked looking down at her shorts. Sure enough, the damp patch had grown in size, and was still glistening at the centre.
There were now 50 minutes remaining in the class period, and I noticed that Lyn had just started the fourth page of my five page exam. I walked to the back of the room and looked over the entire class, while reaching into my pocket to adjust my hard-on. Lyn was definitely going to need the remaining class time in order to finish the exam. Her little wetting would have released some of the pressure, but given the amount she had been drinking, I was sure this was only a temporary respite. I was certain that Lyn knew this also, and was dreading the moment when she would either release another flow, or lose control and soak herself. I mentally gave her 10 more minutes of agony before the inevitable happened!
Well, ten minutes came and went. Five minutes later, Lyn drew in a sharp breath, and snapped her mouth shut quickly. She leant over sideways and reached her left hand into her pack. She fussed around with her hand for a few seconds, and then pulled out a small, neatly folded towel. Pressing down on the desk with her right hand, she raised herself of the char just enough to quickly slip the towel under her. She sat down, and looked up at me, blushed again and looked down at her desk.
“Good thinking Lyn” I said to myself. I reckoned she could probably wet at least one more spurt for a few seconds without risking noisy drips falling onto the floor.
Her legs were not crossed at this point; she squeezed her legs together tightly, but a large damp patch quickly spread across the front of her shorts and began to stretch toward her knees. I looked right at her now, unable to resist this visual treat. She was staring at her lap in horror. Up to this she had she had probably wet herself for maybe only 4 or 5 seconds each time, but this time it was a different story! The speed with which the patch grew in size and spread down her thighs told me that she wasn’t able to stop the gush for maybe 10 seconds or so. And of course her panties would have been soaked from her first wetting. Or, perhaps, her discomfort was so great that she just gave up, and let herself wet into her panties for a longer time. After all, she had already wet herself noticeably the first time, so what had she to lose ??
Once again she stopped wetting, but this time it was definitely showing, although nothing was dripping onto the floor. From the speed with which the glistening damp patch spread down her shorts, I was sure that the little towel was probably saturated. I couldn't help but try to imagine what it must have felt like for her to be sitting in soaking warm panties, on a warm, squishy towel which was completely saturated.
Another ten minutes passed. Lyn placed both hands under her butt and leant forwards. As she did so, I heard a 'drip drip' as she flooded her panties, and it spilled out over her chair onto the floor. Lyn's humiliation was complete! But she managed to stop again, and after a few more dipping sounds the flow must have stopped.
Anyone looking directly at her, or at the floor under her chair, could tell that she had just wet her pants! Fortunately for her, there was only one other student sitting in the front row today, and he was five seats away from her. So no one except me had a frontal view. She looked up from her crotch and stared at me. A soon as she saw I was looking at her, she immediately clasped her hands over her wet crotch and deeply, deeply blushed while still staring at me. I had never seen such a pretty girl blushing like that, and the fact that she had wet her panties so completely made me almost explode! I gave her a half-smile, not knowing how else to react. After a few seconds she bent over and started to doodle with her pencil, not knowing what to do, or how to hide her predicament.
No-one else seemed to notice the dripping.
Certainly she didn't want me to say anything. I simply couldn't let her leave the room. Besides, at this point, getting up would attract attention to her situation and let other people see her condition.
Lyn looked down at her backpack, and then went back to the exam. I began to feel sorry for her. She lived in an apartment off campus, probably with a couple of roommates. Did she have a change of clothes in her backpack? It seemed unlikely, unless she had athletic clothes for a workout or something. She was going to have a hard time getting home without everyone seeing that she had wet herself.
I wondered what would happen if other students noticed what was going on. This seemed inevitable, since they would eventually approach my desk to turn in the exam. Because of the weather, no one had sweaters or jackets of any kind; Lyn had only her backpack and her shoes, and these weren't going to be very effective at covering up her mess. She looked wet enough that I was pretty sure it wouldn't dry before class was over; in fact, if she wet her panties again, it would immediately start dripping onto the floor. I wondered if she was wearing a pad or feminine napkin. Probably not. If she was, it had soaked through quite a while ago. There was even a possibility that she had only a bikini bathing suit on under her shorts. Sunbathing was a popular way to pass the time between classes at this time of year, and judging from her tan, it was something she did on a fairly regular basis.
With twenty minutes left to the class period, the first two students got up to turn in their exams. One walked right past Lyn, handed me the exam, and went back to his seat, passing her again. If he noticed anything, I couldn't tell from his behavior or facial expressions. He picked up his backpack and left without crossing the front of the room.
Since I already had a full view of Lyn's accident, it seemed like her best bet for avoiding some major embarrassment was to wait until everyone else had left the room. She had apparently come to the same conclusion, because she was indeed the last one to turn in her exam. As the others handed their papers in and left, I saw some of them looking back at Lyn as they opened the door to the room. But no one actually said anything because others were still taking the test. When the last two girls left the room, I heard excited voices out in the hall, which slowly receded into the distance.
Finally, Lyn was the only one left in the room. She looked up at me, her face turning a bright shade of pink again. She looked incredibly alluring and sexy – her flushed face adding to her appeal. She stood up slowly, and I noticed a dark stain on the fabric of the chair underneath her. I realised that she must have wet her panties quite a bit more. At least the soft absorbent cushioned fabric of the chair and the towel had prevented a noisy deluge hitting the floot.
I remained sitting at my desk, watching her. I suppose I should have gotten up and walked towards her to collect the paper, and left her to pick up her pack and leave the room. But all the other students had come to my desk and handed their papers to me, so I thought Lyn should do the same.
We stared at each other for a few seconds, then I nodded and motioned for her to bring me her paper.
She got up slowly and started to walk towards me, with little, short quick steps. After a few steps she pressed her hand firmly against her crotch, and biting her lip approached my desk.
Lyn must have been aware of my gazing at her hand covering her crotch. She came right up to the desk to hand me the paper. She was only a couple of feet away when she gasped out “Oh God – NO!!” she flung the paper on my desk and grabbed her crotch with both hands.
Lyn lost complete control. Her face blushed again as the torrent streamed out and gushed down her thighs. She turned sideways and I could see the cascades running down the insides of her thighs and the backs of her legs.
I had never imagined seeing such a wonderful girl as Lyn wetting herself like that. She continued to wet for about 20 seconds, then the flow eased with only little drips dribbling off her soaked shorts and wet panties.
She turned towards me and leaned her hands on the table. “Oh my God” she whispered, looking at me with tear filled eyes. “I am so embarrassed.”
“But you must feel better now!” I said gently.
I stood up and walked around the table towards her. She held out her hands to me. I took her wet hands in mine as she whispered again:
“I’m so, so sorry to have embarrassed you. Well I guess next time I'll know to go to the bathroom before the test."
I relaxed my grip on her hands, but she kept holding mine. I wasn't sure how to respond. She was perhaps 21, and I was 28. The age difference was not a problem, it was just that I was in a position of academic authority, which made her ‘vulnerable’ in the eyes of the college, and in the eyes of the law in our jurisdiction. I really didn't want to embarrass her any further. If she had simply handed me the exam and left, I never would have said a word about the matter to her or anyone else. Well... OK, maybe I would tell a few friends about it, but I wouldn't mention her name. I counted myself lucky just to have seen it.
But her comment caught me off guard. It sounded like she wanted me to acknowledge what had happened. She seemed to want to get it out in the open. Did she want me to apologize for not letting her leave the room? She looked at me.
"You couldn't quite hold it, huh?" I finally said.
"I shouldn't have had all that soda right before the exam," she said. "We usually get a break during class." She squeezed my hands, and I made no effort to pull away
"I'm sorry I couldn't let you go," I stammered. "But we can't have people going in and out during a test. It would create a lot of problems with cheating."
"I know. Don't worry about it." She seemed more comfortable with the whole episode now. “By the way, I have really enjoyed your classes. And” she smiled shyly “I think you are a really neat guy. I’ll be sorry not to have any more classes with you ?”
There was a hint of a question in her voice. “Well” I said slowly, “I believe you are on the college swim team ?”
“Yes” she said, “and I’m taking the evening course for Life Guarding over the summer. This is my final year you know, just one more exam before I have my degree!”
“And I’m one of the instructors in the Lifeguarding course” I said quietly.
“Lyn” I said, squeezing her hands slightly, ‘After the exams are all over – would it be OK if I called you?”
“I’d like that very much” she said, smiling at me, gripping my hands and blushing slightly.
She collected her things and picked up her backpack, and glanced at the little flood on the floor in front of my desk. “I have a couple of towels in my pack” she said “guess I won’t be going swimming tonight!”
She mopped up the mess, put the towels in a plastic bag and stuffed it into her pack.
A final thought struck me. "Can I give you a ride home or something?"
"Would you?" She asked. Her face lit up. "This is pretty embarrassing." She managed a nervous laugh. I agreed, and we headed toward the door.
We headed down the hallway. "Uhm... I still have to go," she said quietly. I waited patiently while she disappeared into the ladies' room.
On the way to my car, she stopped and bought a newspaper, which she carried in front of her to cover the wetness on her shorts. But she still couldn't do much to hide the backside. Then she sat on the paper in my car, trying not to get the seat wet. As I drove her home, she wondered aloud what she would tell her roommates. But by the time we arrived, her shorts were almost dry from the sun and the heat. If you knew what you were looking at, it was still obvious that she had wet her panties; but her roommate probably wouldn't notice it if she disappeared straight into her room.
She thanked me for driving her home, and then looked over her shoulder and smiled as she went up the steps to her apartment.
Needless to say, she got an A on test.
TO BE CONTINUED
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By Watcher
(Based on the original document April 1996 “TEST ANXIETY” by LAWRENCE MORGAN. Retitled, edited, restructured, and enhanced by WATCHER March 2012)
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I still remember the midterm exam that I gave in the summer semester of '94 like it was yesterday. I was teaching a 4th year Biochemistry course, and had only ten students in the class; Biochemistry. was not a popular course during summer term, because it met five days a week for two solid hours.
There were four guys in the class and six girls. Lyn was the prettiest. She was about twenty-one years old, and just finishing her final year in college. She was also one of my brightest, most attentive students. She was rarely absent, always prepared for class, and usually sat in the front row.
It was a hot day in late May, and Lyn came into class in a white tee shirt with some sort of environmental message on it (I think it was something to do with Earth Day) and a pair of fairly tight khaki shorts. She was barefoot, her sneakers tied to the straps of her backpack.
She had a large soft drink with her, and I could hear the ice sloshing around as she took her seat in the front row. It was about eight minutes before the hour. Other students filed into the room slowly, chatting idly about the exam, the weather, and other things. I looked over the exam one last time, searching for any errors that my teaching assistant might have missed. Lynn took a long drag on the straw of the paper soft drink cup, and I heard the ice protest once again. It sounded like the cup was empty. She searched through her backpack, lines of frustration crossing her face, and finally produced two pencils and an eraser.
I studied her long dark hair, her long tanned legs and her bare feet. I often had trouble taking my eyes off this girl during class. I wished I was younger.
With four minutes to go, I asked the class if there were any last minute questions. Tom, the guy who had been absent most of the quarter, wanted to know about the latest in DNA sequencing technology. A few of the other students groaned. If he hadn't mastered that by now, it was unlikely he would pass this test.
The bell rang. To an observer from another planet, we must have looked like rats in some of sort of operant conditioning experiment. I picked up the stack of exams, and my students cleared their books off their desks. I distributed the exams. Some students began working on the first page immediately while others leafed through the exam to get a general idea of what was involved.
"You should have three sheets with five pages of text," I announced. "Make sure you aren't missing any pages." I then informed the class that they had the whole two hour class period for the exam.
The room was warm, so I went over to the thermostat and adjusted the air conditioning. Then I sat down to read the paper. Exams like this can be incredibly boring for professors. My students were seated far enough apart that I really didn't have to worry too much about cheating. But I had to stay in the room, otherwise the temptation would be too great, especially for someone like Tom. I leafed through the paper, occasionally glancing up to see if anyone was trying to get my attention to ask a question. And of course I would take a peek at Lynn and one or two of the other girls in the class.
After about twenty five minutes, I noticed that Lyn seemed to be shifting her weight and adjusting herself quite a bit. Once she dropped her pencil, and it rolled under another desk. She looked up and leaned forward, but couldn't reach it. So she sat back a bit and retrieved it by grabbing it with her toes. She looked at me briefly and smiled.
She continued to shift her weight from time to time, and it occurred to me that perhaps the soda she had drunk was beginning to catch up with her. If this was the case, I thought to myself, this may well become the most interesting exam I have ever given. Normally my students get a five minute break in the middle of the period; but today no one was permitted to leave the room until they turned in the exam. And I expected even my best students to need most or all of the period for this test. I couldn’t help wondering what Lyn was feeling and thinking at this time. I guessed she was becoming increasingly aware of the mounting pressure, and realising that she would not be able to hold on for the length of the exam.
Some fifteen minutes later, Lyn proved me right. She got up slowly and approached my desk. She leaned toward me, and said in a whisper, "Can I go to the bathroom?" I had to struggle to keep from smiling too broadly. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "You can't leave the room during the exam," I said gently. She looked down, disappointed.
"Okay," she said quietly.
Well, I thought, this is definitely going to be better than reading the horoscopes for the rest of the exam. I got up to stretch my legs, and walked around the room a bit. I stopped for a side view of Lyn. She now had one leg crossed under the other; the bottom of her right foot was lightly covered with dirt from running around barefoot. One hand held her pencil, while the other rested on her forehead, giving her a look of intense concentration. I wondered if my hard-on was noticeable. But no one in the class was looking at me, of course; everyone was wrapped up in the test.
As the time passed, Lyn's discomfort increased significantly. With about an hour left to the period, Lyn now had her legs crossed with one on top of the other, in the more traditional female style. But after another five minutes, she shifted her position again, this time placing her left leg under her right leg. She looked up at the clock. I was back at my desk now, and she looked at me briefly. I smiled, and she smiled back. She returned to her exam, uncrossing her legs and placing one hand in her lap. A few more minutes went by, and Lyn crossed both her legs in a yoga style.
By this time I was sure that she was feeling very, very desperate. Even though she had smiled at me, I was sure she was frantically trying to hold on. But with just under an hour to go – she must have realised the hopelessness of her situation, her bladder becoming more and more taut as all the liquid she had drunk at the start of the exam percolated its way through her incredible body and ending up, temporarily, in her bladder.
From Lyn's body language, it was clear that she was in a bad way. She knew that her bladder capacity was soon going to be exceeded, and that she was going to have to make a choice between enduring increasingly excruciating pain, or ‘cutting her losses’! I wondered whether she would let go in a desperately controlled spurt, or try to hold on in spite of her agony, while the inevitable slow leakage slowly saturated her panties and showed in the crotch of her shorts.
I actually hoped she would go for the inevitable slow release. That would mean that when she eventually stood up to hand in her paper, the resulting torrent would be much more dramatic.
Anyway, I concluded that Lyn would wet herself before the end of the exam, probably in a controlled manner – at least the first time! And I was very, very aroused in anticipation of what was going to happen!
I got up to walk around again. As I circled the perimeter of the room, I saw Lyn bite her lower lip. She uncrossed her legs once again, this time squeezing them together. I returned to my desk and pretended to look at the paper again.
I was trying to make sure that Lyn did not notice me watching her intently, resting my forehead on my hand as I looked through my fingers at her, hoping that it looked like I was reading the paper on my desk.
Lyn looked incredibly vulnerable, and so alluring. Her body was taught, as she tried to hang on. She wasn't able to squirm around, or jiggle her thighs up and down because that would make it obvious to others what she was going through. All she could do was tighten her muscles to the point where there was a little shake in her thighs from the strain.
Lyn placed the pencil between her teeth and bit down on it. She pressed both hands down into her crotch, leaned back a little, and stretched out her long legs in front of her. Then she seemed to slowly relax, pressing her bare feet on the floor to raise her butt a little off the chair. Then she just closed her eyes and clenched the front edge of the chair with her hands. She crossed her legs once more, looked around nervously. Lyn had long dark shoulder length hair, and I could see some of the hair had ‘slicked’ on her forehead. The exam hall had cooled off a bit with the air-conditioning, so I assumed she was perspiring with the effort of holding on, coupled with the natural anxiety of a girl caught in this situation. I saw her wipe her hand across her forehead, which she then dried off by pressing against her shorts.
From the way Lyn was shifting her position, I was sure this was going to be a deliberate release. I expected the discomfort from her over-stretched bladder was getting too much to tolerate, so she had decided to ‘cut her losses’, letting go and wetting herself for a few seconds to relieve the pressure, without a ‘game over’ scenario. She was probably realising that if she tried to hold on for much longer she would not be able to control the flow.
I was mesmerized, staring at her crotch, expecting the tell-tail dark patch to appear. Lyn looked right at me, and caught me staring at her. She took the pencil from between her teeth and set it on the table. She blushed deep, deep red, flung herself forwards burying her face in her hands and bending down almost touching the desk with her face.
I got up and walked towards her. She saw me coming and immediately placed her hands on the desk and picked up her pencil. As I descended the steps from the platform, she spread her thighs slightly and I saw her crotch glisten darkly as a wet patch spread out for several inches. Just as I reached her, she flung her hands down and pressed them hard over her crotch as she snapped her thighs tightly together.
Lynn’s head was still bent right over the desk, her long dark hair hanging down over her shoulders onto the desk. She was wearing a T-shirt, and I could see the back of her neck was bright red from her blush. The back of her T-shirt was clinging to her skin because of the perspiration.
She looked up at me, and I was sure there were tears in her eyes. “I’m so embarrassed” she whispered, softly so no one else would hear. I had to lean over close to her to hear that she was whispering “I’m so sorry” as she looked down at her paper.
Now of course we faculty had always been reminded that it could be very inappropriate to make physical contact with a student. But I knew that Lyn was in real distress, and very embarrassed, so I just laid my hand gently on her left shoulder and whispered back ‘Don’t worry, just concentrate on your paper for the remaining hour”.
Lyn pressed her damp palm down firmly on the back of my hand which was resting on her left shoulder for two or three seconds, and as she did so she raised her thighs off the seat a little and leaned back.“Thanks” she whispered softly. I had the distinct impression from the way she gently undulated her thighs, that she was wetting herself a little more while clasping her hand over mine.
“Oh no! I’m sorry, my hand is . . . wet . . . .” she gasped breathlessly.
“Lyn” I said softly “You can go to the bathroom if you hand in your paper, and I’ll pro-rate your marks to allow for the shorter time you used.”
“I can’t” she whispered. “As soon as I stand up I’ll – you know, loose it completely in front of everyone. I’ll just have to finish the paper – you understand ?”
I nodded. I understood very well the predicament she was in. As I walked towards the back of the hall, just to check on the other students, I felt the coolness on the back of my hand from Lyn’s moist touch..
I walked back to my desk. I was incredibly aroused. Not only had I seen such a lovely girl wet herself – even if a little – but she had responded positively to my gentle touch on her shoulder. As I passed Lyn I risked looking down at her shorts. Sure enough, the damp patch had grown in size, and was still glistening at the centre.
There were now 50 minutes remaining in the class period, and I noticed that Lyn had just started the fourth page of my five page exam. I walked to the back of the room and looked over the entire class, while reaching into my pocket to adjust my hard-on. Lyn was definitely going to need the remaining class time in order to finish the exam. Her little wetting would have released some of the pressure, but given the amount she had been drinking, I was sure this was only a temporary respite. I was certain that Lyn knew this also, and was dreading the moment when she would either release another flow, or lose control and soak herself. I mentally gave her 10 more minutes of agony before the inevitable happened!
Well, ten minutes came and went. Five minutes later, Lyn drew in a sharp breath, and snapped her mouth shut quickly. She leant over sideways and reached her left hand into her pack. She fussed around with her hand for a few seconds, and then pulled out a small, neatly folded towel. Pressing down on the desk with her right hand, she raised herself of the char just enough to quickly slip the towel under her. She sat down, and looked up at me, blushed again and looked down at her desk.
“Good thinking Lyn” I said to myself. I reckoned she could probably wet at least one more spurt for a few seconds without risking noisy drips falling onto the floor.
Her legs were not crossed at this point; she squeezed her legs together tightly, but a large damp patch quickly spread across the front of her shorts and began to stretch toward her knees. I looked right at her now, unable to resist this visual treat. She was staring at her lap in horror. Up to this she had she had probably wet herself for maybe only 4 or 5 seconds each time, but this time it was a different story! The speed with which the patch grew in size and spread down her thighs told me that she wasn’t able to stop the gush for maybe 10 seconds or so. And of course her panties would have been soaked from her first wetting. Or, perhaps, her discomfort was so great that she just gave up, and let herself wet into her panties for a longer time. After all, she had already wet herself noticeably the first time, so what had she to lose ??
Once again she stopped wetting, but this time it was definitely showing, although nothing was dripping onto the floor. From the speed with which the glistening damp patch spread down her shorts, I was sure that the little towel was probably saturated. I couldn't help but try to imagine what it must have felt like for her to be sitting in soaking warm panties, on a warm, squishy towel which was completely saturated.
Another ten minutes passed. Lyn placed both hands under her butt and leant forwards. As she did so, I heard a 'drip drip' as she flooded her panties, and it spilled out over her chair onto the floor. Lyn's humiliation was complete! But she managed to stop again, and after a few more dipping sounds the flow must have stopped.
Anyone looking directly at her, or at the floor under her chair, could tell that she had just wet her pants! Fortunately for her, there was only one other student sitting in the front row today, and he was five seats away from her. So no one except me had a frontal view. She looked up from her crotch and stared at me. A soon as she saw I was looking at her, she immediately clasped her hands over her wet crotch and deeply, deeply blushed while still staring at me. I had never seen such a pretty girl blushing like that, and the fact that she had wet her panties so completely made me almost explode! I gave her a half-smile, not knowing how else to react. After a few seconds she bent over and started to doodle with her pencil, not knowing what to do, or how to hide her predicament.
No-one else seemed to notice the dripping.
Certainly she didn't want me to say anything. I simply couldn't let her leave the room. Besides, at this point, getting up would attract attention to her situation and let other people see her condition.
Lyn looked down at her backpack, and then went back to the exam. I began to feel sorry for her. She lived in an apartment off campus, probably with a couple of roommates. Did she have a change of clothes in her backpack? It seemed unlikely, unless she had athletic clothes for a workout or something. She was going to have a hard time getting home without everyone seeing that she had wet herself.
I wondered what would happen if other students noticed what was going on. This seemed inevitable, since they would eventually approach my desk to turn in the exam. Because of the weather, no one had sweaters or jackets of any kind; Lyn had only her backpack and her shoes, and these weren't going to be very effective at covering up her mess. She looked wet enough that I was pretty sure it wouldn't dry before class was over; in fact, if she wet her panties again, it would immediately start dripping onto the floor. I wondered if she was wearing a pad or feminine napkin. Probably not. If she was, it had soaked through quite a while ago. There was even a possibility that she had only a bikini bathing suit on under her shorts. Sunbathing was a popular way to pass the time between classes at this time of year, and judging from her tan, it was something she did on a fairly regular basis.
With twenty minutes left to the class period, the first two students got up to turn in their exams. One walked right past Lyn, handed me the exam, and went back to his seat, passing her again. If he noticed anything, I couldn't tell from his behavior or facial expressions. He picked up his backpack and left without crossing the front of the room.
Since I already had a full view of Lyn's accident, it seemed like her best bet for avoiding some major embarrassment was to wait until everyone else had left the room. She had apparently come to the same conclusion, because she was indeed the last one to turn in her exam. As the others handed their papers in and left, I saw some of them looking back at Lyn as they opened the door to the room. But no one actually said anything because others were still taking the test. When the last two girls left the room, I heard excited voices out in the hall, which slowly receded into the distance.
Finally, Lyn was the only one left in the room. She looked up at me, her face turning a bright shade of pink again. She looked incredibly alluring and sexy – her flushed face adding to her appeal. She stood up slowly, and I noticed a dark stain on the fabric of the chair underneath her. I realised that she must have wet her panties quite a bit more. At least the soft absorbent cushioned fabric of the chair and the towel had prevented a noisy deluge hitting the floot.
I remained sitting at my desk, watching her. I suppose I should have gotten up and walked towards her to collect the paper, and left her to pick up her pack and leave the room. But all the other students had come to my desk and handed their papers to me, so I thought Lyn should do the same.
We stared at each other for a few seconds, then I nodded and motioned for her to bring me her paper.
She got up slowly and started to walk towards me, with little, short quick steps. After a few steps she pressed her hand firmly against her crotch, and biting her lip approached my desk.
Lyn must have been aware of my gazing at her hand covering her crotch. She came right up to the desk to hand me the paper. She was only a couple of feet away when she gasped out “Oh God – NO!!” she flung the paper on my desk and grabbed her crotch with both hands.
Lyn lost complete control. Her face blushed again as the torrent streamed out and gushed down her thighs. She turned sideways and I could see the cascades running down the insides of her thighs and the backs of her legs.
I had never imagined seeing such a wonderful girl as Lyn wetting herself like that. She continued to wet for about 20 seconds, then the flow eased with only little drips dribbling off her soaked shorts and wet panties.
She turned towards me and leaned her hands on the table. “Oh my God” she whispered, looking at me with tear filled eyes. “I am so embarrassed.”
“But you must feel better now!” I said gently.
I stood up and walked around the table towards her. She held out her hands to me. I took her wet hands in mine as she whispered again:
“I’m so, so sorry to have embarrassed you. Well I guess next time I'll know to go to the bathroom before the test."
I relaxed my grip on her hands, but she kept holding mine. I wasn't sure how to respond. She was perhaps 21, and I was 28. The age difference was not a problem, it was just that I was in a position of academic authority, which made her ‘vulnerable’ in the eyes of the college, and in the eyes of the law in our jurisdiction. I really didn't want to embarrass her any further. If she had simply handed me the exam and left, I never would have said a word about the matter to her or anyone else. Well... OK, maybe I would tell a few friends about it, but I wouldn't mention her name. I counted myself lucky just to have seen it.
But her comment caught me off guard. It sounded like she wanted me to acknowledge what had happened. She seemed to want to get it out in the open. Did she want me to apologize for not letting her leave the room? She looked at me.
"You couldn't quite hold it, huh?" I finally said.
"I shouldn't have had all that soda right before the exam," she said. "We usually get a break during class." She squeezed my hands, and I made no effort to pull away
"I'm sorry I couldn't let you go," I stammered. "But we can't have people going in and out during a test. It would create a lot of problems with cheating."
"I know. Don't worry about it." She seemed more comfortable with the whole episode now. “By the way, I have really enjoyed your classes. And” she smiled shyly “I think you are a really neat guy. I’ll be sorry not to have any more classes with you ?”
There was a hint of a question in her voice. “Well” I said slowly, “I believe you are on the college swim team ?”
“Yes” she said, “and I’m taking the evening course for Life Guarding over the summer. This is my final year you know, just one more exam before I have my degree!”
“And I’m one of the instructors in the Lifeguarding course” I said quietly.
“Lyn” I said, squeezing her hands slightly, ‘After the exams are all over – would it be OK if I called you?”
“I’d like that very much” she said, smiling at me, gripping my hands and blushing slightly.
She collected her things and picked up her backpack, and glanced at the little flood on the floor in front of my desk. “I have a couple of towels in my pack” she said “guess I won’t be going swimming tonight!”
She mopped up the mess, put the towels in a plastic bag and stuffed it into her pack.
A final thought struck me. "Can I give you a ride home or something?"
"Would you?" She asked. Her face lit up. "This is pretty embarrassing." She managed a nervous laugh. I agreed, and we headed toward the door.
We headed down the hallway. "Uhm... I still have to go," she said quietly. I waited patiently while she disappeared into the ladies' room.
On the way to my car, she stopped and bought a newspaper, which she carried in front of her to cover the wetness on her shorts. But she still couldn't do much to hide the backside. Then she sat on the paper in my car, trying not to get the seat wet. As I drove her home, she wondered aloud what she would tell her roommates. But by the time we arrived, her shorts were almost dry from the sun and the heat. If you knew what you were looking at, it was still obvious that she had wet her panties; but her roommate probably wouldn't notice it if she disappeared straight into her room.
She thanked me for driving her home, and then looked over her shoulder and smiled as she went up the steps to her apartment.
Needless to say, she got an A on test.
TO BE CONTINUED
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