The Contest

It was late (past ten) one warm Saturday evening. My three friends and I had been out, strolling along the darkened streets of our quiet little town. Streetlights cast a pale yellow glow across the concrete that outshone the meager light of the moon. The song of the nocturnal city wildlife, you know annoying bugs and birds, was drowned out by our constant chatter and peals of laughter.
Oh, but maybe I should tell you a little about my friends and myself first; and since I’m the one telling the story, it’s only fair that I get first description. My name is Emily Armstrong and at the time of this story I was eighteen and a recent High school grad. I had long blonde hair that dropped to the middle of my back and a great smile. My face was smooth and my skin soft, if a little pale. My figure, while not hourglass, was pretty good and in my opinion I looked pretty good. I was wearing a blue tee shirt and some faded blue jeans that hugged my legs tightly.
Blair, that’s one of my friends, was the same age and educational status as myself. She was dressed in a white tee Shirt and similar jeans. Her hair, dark brown and long enough to touch her shoulders, was pulled into a tight ponytail. She was beautiful, nice figure and face but who am I to judge, I’m just a girl. Between the three of us, Blair was probably the best looking.
And then there was Amanda, or Mandy as we called her. She was a year older than Blair and I, but she had just graduated as well. Her hair was black and had the tiniest curl to it. She wore glasses and patches of freckles dotted her face, just under the eyes on either side of the nose. She was good looking, but not as good looking as Blair or even myself. She was wearing a short skirt and a black top and was the only one of us that lived alone at the time, and we were on our way to hang out at her apartment.
Well, now that I’ve given you an idea of how we looked, I can get on with the story. Our night had been spent doing typical teen things; after all we were on summer vacation and had already secured spots in college, so why not have a little fun? We strolled the streets, hollering at people we didn’t like and flirting with the good–looking guys we came across. During our walk, we had each downed a liter of Dr. Pepper and before we headed for Mandy’s apartment we stopped at a local McDonald’s and each got Super–Sized lemonades. We had those finished halfway to the complex she lived in and by the time we were two blocks away we were all starting to feel a burning fullness between our legs.
“When we get to the place,” Blair said with a hint of desperation in her voice, “I get first crack at the pisser.”
“Like hell you do,” I said jokingly. “I’m about to have a serious problem in my panties.” I wasn’t lying. My bladder was full and the flood of urine was pressing to get out.
“It’s my place, so I get to go first.” That, of course, was Mandy. And naturally we broke into a torrent of friendly jibes and threats, each of us offering reasons why we should get first turn on the john. Our games continued until we reached the door to Mandy’s apartment, by which time the three of us were in dire situations, we had made no progress on choosing who got to use the toilet first. That’s when Blair proposed a crazy idea.
“I have a crazy idea,” she said as we walked into the apartment. Mandy flipped the switch and the yellow light chased away the darkness revealing a decently furnished apartment. “How about we have a contest to see who gets to use the bathroom. Whoever can hold it the longest gets to pee in the toilet.”
Caught a little off guard, I blinked in confusion and Mandy was probably doing the same. “You want to have a ‘hold it’ contest,” I asked.
“Well, yeah,” Blair replied.
I shrugged. “Sure, I’m game. We won’t tell anyone about this, right?”
“No, never,” Blair said. It took a little doing, but we managed to talk Mandy into joining us. We also added a rule, the first person to lose would be responsible for cleaning the mess up, the second person would be responsible for paying to have the jeans washed and dried. We headed to the kitchen, where the floor was white tile so our puddles wouldn’t stain the carpet and we sat crossed legged on the floor.
The first minutes of the contest were simple enough and we spent that talking and only making minor adjustments to our posture to relieve pressure. But as time wore on the talk died away as each of us went into our own silent battles against to needs and urges of our bodies. Blair seemed to be having the most trouble, rocking back and forth and frantically grabbing herself. Mandy’s legs were squeezed tightly together, but overall she seemed fine. As for myself, I was sitting on my knees with my thighs closed together and one hand pressing on my crotch.
We sat for another few minutes, struggling to keep our floodgates closed, before our first contestant was eliminated. It was Blair. I could tell it was going to happen a few seconds before it did. Her breathing became heavy and she gave few pained moans. Her rocking back and forth began to slowly until finally she swore and gave into the needs of nature.
Seeing the wet spot grow across the crotch of her jeans did little to help my situation, which had become desperate indeed. As a stream of yellow began running from Blair’s leg holes, I could feel the burning in my own bladder growing steadily. I glanced at Mandy and silently groaned. Aside from some occasional fidgeting she seemed in total control of herself. I knew I was losing it.
My final moments were spent in agony. I was raised on my knees both hands between my legs squeezing tightly. I was rubbing my thighs together in a vain attempt to relieve the mounting pressure and I was dancing wildly as I could on my knees. At this point Blair, who had taken a shower, returned with no pants to watch how our battle would end.
“Looks like Mandy’s going to have this one,” she said as she sat down on a chair. I glanced at Amanda and groaned. She still seemed to be in total control. I went back to my routine, but it did little good. I felt a squirt escape into my panties followed by another and one more. Finally, with a defeated moan, I relaxed my muscles and let nature run its course.
A torrent of hot piss poured freely into my jeans. Wet warmth spread quickly around my crotch and inside of my thighs, soaking the seat of my pants as well. I could feel my panties becoming soggy and a puddle forming around my buttocks. For several minutes I peed myself, and despite the wetness and discomfort loved the relief. I wasn’t so embarrassed since Blair and Mandy were my best friends, so I just let fly. The pee continued to run down my legs until finally I finished. My pants were drenched from my ass to my socks, but I was laughing madly as Mandy, who acted so calm and collected dashed desperately for the toilet, just barely making it.
After I had cleaned myself up and started the laundry and Blair had finished mopping the floor, we sat around telling pee stories. I re–told one that had happened just after my birthday the summer before where I wet my bed at a camp, but that is another story.
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