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THE FINAL TEST
I still remember the midterm exam that I gave one summer semester 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 each day.
There were four guys in the class and six girls. Lynne 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 Lynne came into class in a white T-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, light colored 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. She inserted a straw through the lid and started to suck the contents.
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 my teaching assistant might have missed. Lynne 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 could hardly take my eyes of Lynne, her long dark hair, her long perfectly shaped tanned legs and thighs, accentuated by her short tight light colored khaki shorts. It seemed she sensed my gaze, for as I sat at my desk facing the students, she bent over her desk, lowering her face a little, but looking directly at me for a few seconds, then smiling slightly and dropping her eyes down.
“Is she trying to flirt with me ?” I asked myself.
I actually only ever had one fantasy about this lovely co-ed girl in my class. I thought about being with her when she was in a desperate situation, squirming around and fidgeting in absolute panic trying not to wet herself, but loosing control and wetting her pants as I looked on. I wished I was younger.
Little did I know that fantasy was going to come true!
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 semester 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.
“You won’t be allowed to leave the room during the exam”. I said, “So, if you have to take a bathroom break, now is the time.”
I couldn’t help but glance at Lynne as I was saying this. She smiled back at me as she continued to slosh the contents of the cup and suck at the straw.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing Lynne’ I said to myself, hoping that she didn’t. It was a large soft drink, and I suspected maybe larger than her bladder, and judging from the sound the cup was making, there was only a little ice left.
‘What goes in must come out’ I thought, becoming aroused as I contemplated this.
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 looked 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 Lynne and one or two of the other girls in the class.
After about twenty five minutes, I noticed that Lynne 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.
Suddenly Lynne sat up straight, grimaced slightly and pressed her palm against her lower tummy, as if she was having cramps. I wondered maybe if it was her bladder which was fast filling, but perhaps she had another 'problem'. This would not be as visibly stimulating for me, but nonetheless even more embarrassing and messy for Lynne.
The way she was moving a bit restlessly, shifting her weight from time to time, indicated to me that the soda she had drunk was causing the 'problem'. 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 Lynne 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, Lynne 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 restroom?"
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.
Lynne suddenly closed her eyes, bent her knees sightly and quickly pressed her hand against her crotch for a moment. As she turned away from me to walk back to her desk, I saw a little dark patch about 2 inches across, right at the center bottom of her shorts. She had spurted briefly into her panties!
‘Interesting’ I said to myself ‘She didn’t turn away from me before that little wetting!’ There was no way, now, that I was going to let this girl go to the bathroom during the exam.
This is definitely going to be better than reading the horoscopes for the rest of the exam, I thought.
I got up to stretch my legs, and walked around the room a bit. I stopped for a side view of Lynne. 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, Lynne's discomfort increased significantly. With about an hour left Lynne 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 Lynne 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 Lynne's body language, it was clear that she was in a bad way. I kept thinking about what she must be experiencing as her situation became more and more desperate. She knew that her bladder capacity was soon going to be exceeded.
I wondered – when she “lost the battle”. would she:
A) Hold on, fighting every moment to clench her muscles shut, until her muscles simply 'gave way' leading to an uncontrolled gush into her pants?
Or,
B) Would she hold on until the pain became so excruciating that she would deliberately have to let go?
Or
C) would she slowly and deliberately leak just enough to ease her discomfort a little, but perhaps not enough to show?
And I wondered if A) was the path she decided to take, would the “burst” be a sudden gush, or would it be a steady, slow leak, seeping gradually into her pants, until they were saturated and oozing through into her shorts?
I actually hoped she would go follow C, resulting in an inevitable slow release. That would mean that when she eventually stood up to hand in her paper, the resulting damage would be much more dramatic.
Anyway, I concluded that Lynne 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 Lynne 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 Lynne 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.
Lynne 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.
Lynne bit down her pencil, and pressed both hands down into her crotch. She 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. Lynne 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 Lynne 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, and disaster would strike!
I was mesmerized, staring at her crotch, expecting the tell-tail dark patch to appear. I had often imagined seeing a girl as attractive as Lynne in a situation when she was struggling to stop herself wetting, and finally loosing the battle. My heart began to pound, because I realised that I might just see that happen!
Lynne leaned forwards and pressed both palms against her crotch as she squeezed her legs together. She looked up and saw me staring at her. Her face flushed as she leaned forwards, looking down at the desk, her long dark hair falling over her face. She glanced up at me again, biting her lip and grimacing as she pushed both hands palm up under her thighs.
I was so fascinated by watching her desperate predicament, and so aroused, that my left hand was resting on my crotch. It must have been clear to Lynne that I was in the midst of a massive erection, because I just HAD to press my hand more tightly against myself.
I was sure that lovely Lynne was just seconds away from wetting her panties, and that it probably would not be just another little spurt.
She bent her face down, still looking at me with those alluring eyes. She placed her hands under her thighs, and as she looked at me, slowly spread her knees apart, so I could see her crotch.
She bit her lower lip, and as I watched a thin dark line appeared along the inner edges of her shorts where they touched the chair bottom. A second or two later her crotch was glistening.
I was seeing this lovely 20 year old girl wetting herself! I could not help but get even more aroused when I thought about how it felt for Lynne to feel her pants becoming warm and wet! And to make it even more arousing, if that were possible, she was deliberately showing me what was happening.
The dark wetness spread slowly up her shorts from the chair bottom, the upper margin becoming fuzzy and indistinct as her crotch stopped glistening. Obviously she had been able to stop before the flood worked its way in front of her crotch and dribbled onto the floor.
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 the 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.
Lynne’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 Lynne 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”.
Lynne 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.
“Lynne” I whispered “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 Lynne’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 only a little – but she had responded positively to my gentle touch on her shoulder. As I passed Lynne I risked looking down at her shorts. Sure enough, the damp patch had grown in size, and was still glistening at the centre.
It was very clear that a slow, seeping leak was in progress !
There were now 50 minutes remaining in the class period, and I noticed that Lynne 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. Lynne 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 Lynne 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, Lynne 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 chair 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 Lynne” 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 pants 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 pants 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 pants, on a warm, squishy towel which was completely saturated.
Continued in Part 2
I still remember the midterm exam that I gave one summer semester 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 each day.
There were four guys in the class and six girls. Lynne 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 Lynne came into class in a white T-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, light colored 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. She inserted a straw through the lid and started to suck the contents.
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 my teaching assistant might have missed. Lynne 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 could hardly take my eyes of Lynne, her long dark hair, her long perfectly shaped tanned legs and thighs, accentuated by her short tight light colored khaki shorts. It seemed she sensed my gaze, for as I sat at my desk facing the students, she bent over her desk, lowering her face a little, but looking directly at me for a few seconds, then smiling slightly and dropping her eyes down.
“Is she trying to flirt with me ?” I asked myself.
I actually only ever had one fantasy about this lovely co-ed girl in my class. I thought about being with her when she was in a desperate situation, squirming around and fidgeting in absolute panic trying not to wet herself, but loosing control and wetting her pants as I looked on. I wished I was younger.
Little did I know that fantasy was going to come true!
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 semester 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.
“You won’t be allowed to leave the room during the exam”. I said, “So, if you have to take a bathroom break, now is the time.”
I couldn’t help but glance at Lynne as I was saying this. She smiled back at me as she continued to slosh the contents of the cup and suck at the straw.
‘I hope you know what you’re doing Lynne’ I said to myself, hoping that she didn’t. It was a large soft drink, and I suspected maybe larger than her bladder, and judging from the sound the cup was making, there was only a little ice left.
‘What goes in must come out’ I thought, becoming aroused as I contemplated this.
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 looked 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 Lynne and one or two of the other girls in the class.
After about twenty five minutes, I noticed that Lynne 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.
Suddenly Lynne sat up straight, grimaced slightly and pressed her palm against her lower tummy, as if she was having cramps. I wondered maybe if it was her bladder which was fast filling, but perhaps she had another 'problem'. This would not be as visibly stimulating for me, but nonetheless even more embarrassing and messy for Lynne.
The way she was moving a bit restlessly, shifting her weight from time to time, indicated to me that the soda she had drunk was causing the 'problem'. 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 Lynne 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, Lynne 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 restroom?"
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.
Lynne suddenly closed her eyes, bent her knees sightly and quickly pressed her hand against her crotch for a moment. As she turned away from me to walk back to her desk, I saw a little dark patch about 2 inches across, right at the center bottom of her shorts. She had spurted briefly into her panties!
‘Interesting’ I said to myself ‘She didn’t turn away from me before that little wetting!’ There was no way, now, that I was going to let this girl go to the bathroom during the exam.
This is definitely going to be better than reading the horoscopes for the rest of the exam, I thought.
I got up to stretch my legs, and walked around the room a bit. I stopped for a side view of Lynne. 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, Lynne's discomfort increased significantly. With about an hour left Lynne 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 Lynne 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 Lynne's body language, it was clear that she was in a bad way. I kept thinking about what she must be experiencing as her situation became more and more desperate. She knew that her bladder capacity was soon going to be exceeded.
I wondered – when she “lost the battle”. would she:
A) Hold on, fighting every moment to clench her muscles shut, until her muscles simply 'gave way' leading to an uncontrolled gush into her pants?
Or,
B) Would she hold on until the pain became so excruciating that she would deliberately have to let go?
Or
C) would she slowly and deliberately leak just enough to ease her discomfort a little, but perhaps not enough to show?
And I wondered if A) was the path she decided to take, would the “burst” be a sudden gush, or would it be a steady, slow leak, seeping gradually into her pants, until they were saturated and oozing through into her shorts?
I actually hoped she would go follow C, resulting in an inevitable slow release. That would mean that when she eventually stood up to hand in her paper, the resulting damage would be much more dramatic.
Anyway, I concluded that Lynne 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 Lynne 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 Lynne 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.
Lynne 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.
Lynne bit down her pencil, and pressed both hands down into her crotch. She 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. Lynne 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 Lynne 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, and disaster would strike!
I was mesmerized, staring at her crotch, expecting the tell-tail dark patch to appear. I had often imagined seeing a girl as attractive as Lynne in a situation when she was struggling to stop herself wetting, and finally loosing the battle. My heart began to pound, because I realised that I might just see that happen!
Lynne leaned forwards and pressed both palms against her crotch as she squeezed her legs together. She looked up and saw me staring at her. Her face flushed as she leaned forwards, looking down at the desk, her long dark hair falling over her face. She glanced up at me again, biting her lip and grimacing as she pushed both hands palm up under her thighs.
I was so fascinated by watching her desperate predicament, and so aroused, that my left hand was resting on my crotch. It must have been clear to Lynne that I was in the midst of a massive erection, because I just HAD to press my hand more tightly against myself.
I was sure that lovely Lynne was just seconds away from wetting her panties, and that it probably would not be just another little spurt.
She bent her face down, still looking at me with those alluring eyes. She placed her hands under her thighs, and as she looked at me, slowly spread her knees apart, so I could see her crotch.
She bit her lower lip, and as I watched a thin dark line appeared along the inner edges of her shorts where they touched the chair bottom. A second or two later her crotch was glistening.
I was seeing this lovely 20 year old girl wetting herself! I could not help but get even more aroused when I thought about how it felt for Lynne to feel her pants becoming warm and wet! And to make it even more arousing, if that were possible, she was deliberately showing me what was happening.
The dark wetness spread slowly up her shorts from the chair bottom, the upper margin becoming fuzzy and indistinct as her crotch stopped glistening. Obviously she had been able to stop before the flood worked its way in front of her crotch and dribbled onto the floor.
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 the 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.
Lynne’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 Lynne 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”.
Lynne 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.
“Lynne” I whispered “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 Lynne’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 only a little – but she had responded positively to my gentle touch on her shoulder. As I passed Lynne I risked looking down at her shorts. Sure enough, the damp patch had grown in size, and was still glistening at the centre.
It was very clear that a slow, seeping leak was in progress !
There were now 50 minutes remaining in the class period, and I noticed that Lynne 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. Lynne 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 Lynne 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, Lynne 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 chair 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 Lynne” 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 pants 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 pants 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 pants, on a warm, squishy towel which was completely saturated.
Continued in Part 2