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Here's the second part to the story I posted last week. I hope you like this one even more. Please let me know what you think. Should I write about Jenn or Mary next? I have some ideas, but I'm open to suggestions.
Here is the first part.
__________________________________________________ ___
These stories aren't going to be in chronological order. I just have a bunch of stories to tell and they'll end up as a sort of collection. Part 2 revolves around an experience I had with Chelsea...
Chelsea and I surprisingly shared a class together the first semester I was there. I quickly became good friends with her and started doing more stuff with her. The class sucked - it was probably our least favorite. It was a class that we had to take to fulfill a requirement. We had to do well to graduate. Our professor, Mr. Hucker, was a real asshole who made the class much harder than it had to be. By the time mid-term came around, Chelsea and I were frantically preparing for the test.
It was the day before the test and we still had a lot of studying to do (and that's saying something for Chelsea). She convinced me to work out with her - she insisted it helped her study better. So after breakfast, some studying, and a lot of coffee, we made our way onto campus and into the gym. As we walked over (a 10 minute walk), I could tell Chelsea needed to pee. She was taking tiny steps even for her and her knees pressed together every now and then.
"Chelsea, do you need to to to the bathroom?" I felt like a father who was potty training a child.
"Yeah, Mike, I do pretty badly," Chelsea replied as we crossed a street.
"Well there's a bathroom at the gym I assume..."
"No, we are on a strict schedule! I don't have a bathroom break until after our workout." Chelsea shot back at me.
She really stuck to her schedule - no matter how much strain it put on her tiny bladder. This really excited me since I'd seen her come home with a damp crotch on more than one occasion. We arrived and went our separate ways, although I kept a close eye on her. Exercise and a full bladder just didn't mix well. I used free weights, worked on my core, and jumped rope for about an hour. I finished ahead of schedule, so I went to coach Chelsea through her last workout.
I found her as she was climbing onto a leg press machine (I didn't know the real name). It was a machine in which the person is in a sitting position with their legs far apart. The goal is to bring the legs together in a closed position - and then repeat several times. It was a machine that I knew would be hell for Chelsea. I watched her take her hand out of her crotch so she could sit correctly and start her workout. I was surprised her black leggings were still dry (although it's hard to tell if they're wet).
She didn't respond to my conversation, so I watched her fight through the four sets and tried to encourage her. After her first set, her hand shot back to her crotch and she had a pained look on her face. She wanted to take a break, but had to keep going to remain on schedule. Almost immediately upon starting the second set, I saw a spurt of pee shoot out of her leggings and onto the seat. The black fabric around her crotch - her legs spread wide for me to see - became damp and so did the cushioned seat. One more squirt escaped as she ended the set and the liquid collected on the seat in front of her crotch.
I knew she wouldn't be able to finish. The third set brought more disaster for her as I saw a golden jet come from between her legs no less than four times. The stretchy leggings became slightly transparent and I could see some wet, white panties underneath. The pool of pee on her seat puddled and ran under her ass. Every movement was accompanied by a very soft squelch. I could hear her whimpering, so I offered her encouragement.
"C'mon, one more set! You can do it!"
Half way through the fourth set, she had a major leak. The weights were becoming too heavy for her and her legs remained open for about five seconds. With this, the floodgates momentarily opened and a stream seeped out of her leggings, onto the seat, and spilled onto the ground surrounding the machine. She was lucky the gym was relatively empty because nobody noticed. The aroma of urine, however, filled my nostrils as I looked straight into her sodden crotch.
Chelsea found the willpower to finish the workout without another leak and dismounted quickly. Drips fell from her crotch as she went to grab some paper towels. They were normally used for wiping sweat off the machines, but that wasn't the case here. She wiped the huge puddle off the seat, wiped down the metal which got hit by the splash, and dabbed the ground before finally using a towel to steal the excess urine away from her leggings.
I was sporting a boner that I could only half conceal by my water bottle, but she was distracted too much to notice. Not a word was said about the incident and Chelsea was cheery after lessening the load on her bladder. When we got back to the house, she went to the bathroom and cleaned up, this time wearing a billowy skirt.
We eventually shut ourselves up in the library and remained there for rest of the night. Chelsea took a scheduled bathroom break around 1AM (she was bursting by that point) and we continued on studying. The test was at 10AM and we still had more material to cover. Chelsea's little body couldn't take the all-nighter by itself, so coffee gave her the extra energy she needed.
As the test drew closer, our studying became more frantic. I didn't even give myself time to use the bathroom - so you can bet Chelsea was holding on for dear life. As 9:45 hit, we decided we had done all we could and headed over to the classroom for the exam.
"You think you're ready?" I asked.
"I feel as prepared as I'll be for the test. I'm actually not worried about it now because I've studied as hard as I could've," she replied.
"Yeah I feel the same."
"The part that worries me is that I haven't gone to the bathroom since 1 and I've had about five coffees! I don't know how I'll be able to concentrate on the test," Chelsea whined.
As we filed into the auditorium with the other students - who also zombie eyes - Chelsea and I took seats next to each other. The seats were cushioned, which made me sleepy during normal classes. I was wide awake now, though. The information for the test was running through my head. The fact that Chelsea was sitting next to me with her hand in her crotch really started to distract me, though. Would I even be able to concentrate on the test?
I was able to start the test rather confidently and got through a good deal of it, but Chelsea struggled. She was only moving half as fast as I was. Her hand was shoved up her skirt, exposing her thin thighs and she was whimpering (much to my annoyance).
About 20 minutes into the test, I heard Chelsea say "fuck it" and she moved her skirt out from beneath her ass. I knew what she was doing, yet I couldn't believe it. Her hand was gone from between her legs, too.
Almost immediately, I heard a loud hiss coming from under her skirt and I heard her exhale a large sigh. I looked up to find a look of bliss on her face as she closed her eyes and did her business. I wasn't the only one who heard the hissing as a few people surrounding us looked curiously at Chelsea. The difficult test drew them back in, thankfully, and not much attention was drawn to her accident.
Surprisingly, the seat seemed to take all of her urine. I saw a few trickles of pee running down into the rows ahead of us, but everything else was soaked by the cushion. After this, Chelsea started flying through her test. She was able to concentrate and seemed to know what she was doing.
Now I was the one distracted. I was sporting a massive boner under my desktop and the aroma of Chelsea's pee was making ym crazy. Chelsea finished ahead of me and I could smell piss on her as she walked by me. I looked at her seat to find it much darker than the others. Somehow, I managed to finish everything on time. As I exited, Chelsea was waiting for me to talk about the test.
"What did you put for number 7 and number 9? I put B for both of them," she said. She was relatively unphased by her accident and didn't even mention the fact that she was soaked under her skirt. I eventually brought it up.
""You seemed to relax a lot after you had your accident, huh?"
"What? Oh, yeah. I couldn't concentrate and figured it was pointless to keep fighting it. It was such a relief.," she replied.
"But what about your panties? Don't you care that you peed yourself? I'm sure people noticed," I persisted.
"I'll wash them just like I always do when I have an accident. It's not really a big deal, Mike. It happens to everybody. And no one can notice now - good thing I wore a skirt."
Later that night, I took some laundry into the basement with an ulterior motive - I wanted to see her panties (both pairs). I rummaged through their huge pile of clothes (and a soaked pair of Jenn's panties) and was only able to find one pair of Chelsea's panties that had been peed in. They were white and cotton and heavily stained in the crotch and ass. They were completely dry by now. Upon close examination, I saw a darker, smaller pee stain in her crotch. I couldn't believe what I was seeing - Chelsea never changed her panties after working out! She cleaned herself up and changed into a skirt, but she must have kept the soiled panties on.
Maybe she anticipated another accident - I wasn't sure. But I was for sure taking those panties back to my room for the night. It was my turn to do laundry tomorrow, so they wouldn't be missed at all...
Here is the first part.
__________________________________________________ ___
These stories aren't going to be in chronological order. I just have a bunch of stories to tell and they'll end up as a sort of collection. Part 2 revolves around an experience I had with Chelsea...
Chelsea and I surprisingly shared a class together the first semester I was there. I quickly became good friends with her and started doing more stuff with her. The class sucked - it was probably our least favorite. It was a class that we had to take to fulfill a requirement. We had to do well to graduate. Our professor, Mr. Hucker, was a real asshole who made the class much harder than it had to be. By the time mid-term came around, Chelsea and I were frantically preparing for the test.
It was the day before the test and we still had a lot of studying to do (and that's saying something for Chelsea). She convinced me to work out with her - she insisted it helped her study better. So after breakfast, some studying, and a lot of coffee, we made our way onto campus and into the gym. As we walked over (a 10 minute walk), I could tell Chelsea needed to pee. She was taking tiny steps even for her and her knees pressed together every now and then.
"Chelsea, do you need to to to the bathroom?" I felt like a father who was potty training a child.
"Yeah, Mike, I do pretty badly," Chelsea replied as we crossed a street.
"Well there's a bathroom at the gym I assume..."
"No, we are on a strict schedule! I don't have a bathroom break until after our workout." Chelsea shot back at me.
She really stuck to her schedule - no matter how much strain it put on her tiny bladder. This really excited me since I'd seen her come home with a damp crotch on more than one occasion. We arrived and went our separate ways, although I kept a close eye on her. Exercise and a full bladder just didn't mix well. I used free weights, worked on my core, and jumped rope for about an hour. I finished ahead of schedule, so I went to coach Chelsea through her last workout.
I found her as she was climbing onto a leg press machine (I didn't know the real name). It was a machine in which the person is in a sitting position with their legs far apart. The goal is to bring the legs together in a closed position - and then repeat several times. It was a machine that I knew would be hell for Chelsea. I watched her take her hand out of her crotch so she could sit correctly and start her workout. I was surprised her black leggings were still dry (although it's hard to tell if they're wet).
She didn't respond to my conversation, so I watched her fight through the four sets and tried to encourage her. After her first set, her hand shot back to her crotch and she had a pained look on her face. She wanted to take a break, but had to keep going to remain on schedule. Almost immediately upon starting the second set, I saw a spurt of pee shoot out of her leggings and onto the seat. The black fabric around her crotch - her legs spread wide for me to see - became damp and so did the cushioned seat. One more squirt escaped as she ended the set and the liquid collected on the seat in front of her crotch.
I knew she wouldn't be able to finish. The third set brought more disaster for her as I saw a golden jet come from between her legs no less than four times. The stretchy leggings became slightly transparent and I could see some wet, white panties underneath. The pool of pee on her seat puddled and ran under her ass. Every movement was accompanied by a very soft squelch. I could hear her whimpering, so I offered her encouragement.
"C'mon, one more set! You can do it!"
Half way through the fourth set, she had a major leak. The weights were becoming too heavy for her and her legs remained open for about five seconds. With this, the floodgates momentarily opened and a stream seeped out of her leggings, onto the seat, and spilled onto the ground surrounding the machine. She was lucky the gym was relatively empty because nobody noticed. The aroma of urine, however, filled my nostrils as I looked straight into her sodden crotch.
Chelsea found the willpower to finish the workout without another leak and dismounted quickly. Drips fell from her crotch as she went to grab some paper towels. They were normally used for wiping sweat off the machines, but that wasn't the case here. She wiped the huge puddle off the seat, wiped down the metal which got hit by the splash, and dabbed the ground before finally using a towel to steal the excess urine away from her leggings.
I was sporting a boner that I could only half conceal by my water bottle, but she was distracted too much to notice. Not a word was said about the incident and Chelsea was cheery after lessening the load on her bladder. When we got back to the house, she went to the bathroom and cleaned up, this time wearing a billowy skirt.
We eventually shut ourselves up in the library and remained there for rest of the night. Chelsea took a scheduled bathroom break around 1AM (she was bursting by that point) and we continued on studying. The test was at 10AM and we still had more material to cover. Chelsea's little body couldn't take the all-nighter by itself, so coffee gave her the extra energy she needed.
As the test drew closer, our studying became more frantic. I didn't even give myself time to use the bathroom - so you can bet Chelsea was holding on for dear life. As 9:45 hit, we decided we had done all we could and headed over to the classroom for the exam.
"You think you're ready?" I asked.
"I feel as prepared as I'll be for the test. I'm actually not worried about it now because I've studied as hard as I could've," she replied.
"Yeah I feel the same."
"The part that worries me is that I haven't gone to the bathroom since 1 and I've had about five coffees! I don't know how I'll be able to concentrate on the test," Chelsea whined.
As we filed into the auditorium with the other students - who also zombie eyes - Chelsea and I took seats next to each other. The seats were cushioned, which made me sleepy during normal classes. I was wide awake now, though. The information for the test was running through my head. The fact that Chelsea was sitting next to me with her hand in her crotch really started to distract me, though. Would I even be able to concentrate on the test?
I was able to start the test rather confidently and got through a good deal of it, but Chelsea struggled. She was only moving half as fast as I was. Her hand was shoved up her skirt, exposing her thin thighs and she was whimpering (much to my annoyance).
About 20 minutes into the test, I heard Chelsea say "fuck it" and she moved her skirt out from beneath her ass. I knew what she was doing, yet I couldn't believe it. Her hand was gone from between her legs, too.
Almost immediately, I heard a loud hiss coming from under her skirt and I heard her exhale a large sigh. I looked up to find a look of bliss on her face as she closed her eyes and did her business. I wasn't the only one who heard the hissing as a few people surrounding us looked curiously at Chelsea. The difficult test drew them back in, thankfully, and not much attention was drawn to her accident.
Surprisingly, the seat seemed to take all of her urine. I saw a few trickles of pee running down into the rows ahead of us, but everything else was soaked by the cushion. After this, Chelsea started flying through her test. She was able to concentrate and seemed to know what she was doing.
Now I was the one distracted. I was sporting a massive boner under my desktop and the aroma of Chelsea's pee was making ym crazy. Chelsea finished ahead of me and I could smell piss on her as she walked by me. I looked at her seat to find it much darker than the others. Somehow, I managed to finish everything on time. As I exited, Chelsea was waiting for me to talk about the test.
"What did you put for number 7 and number 9? I put B for both of them," she said. She was relatively unphased by her accident and didn't even mention the fact that she was soaked under her skirt. I eventually brought it up.
""You seemed to relax a lot after you had your accident, huh?"
"What? Oh, yeah. I couldn't concentrate and figured it was pointless to keep fighting it. It was such a relief.," she replied.
"But what about your panties? Don't you care that you peed yourself? I'm sure people noticed," I persisted.
"I'll wash them just like I always do when I have an accident. It's not really a big deal, Mike. It happens to everybody. And no one can notice now - good thing I wore a skirt."
Later that night, I took some laundry into the basement with an ulterior motive - I wanted to see her panties (both pairs). I rummaged through their huge pile of clothes (and a soaked pair of Jenn's panties) and was only able to find one pair of Chelsea's panties that had been peed in. They were white and cotton and heavily stained in the crotch and ass. They were completely dry by now. Upon close examination, I saw a darker, smaller pee stain in her crotch. I couldn't believe what I was seeing - Chelsea never changed her panties after working out! She cleaned herself up and changed into a skirt, but she must have kept the soiled panties on.
Maybe she anticipated another accident - I wasn't sure. But I was for sure taking those panties back to my room for the night. It was my turn to do laundry tomorrow, so they wouldn't be missed at all...
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