Desperate in Long Johns

It started out as a normal night, that evening a friend and I had pitched a tent in our back yard and were preparing for a sleepover/campout. Little did we know we would enter the tent as innocent girls and leave completely changed.
Early in the evening we busied ourselves with making s’mores and popcorn, watching a movie or two, and gossiping about all kinds of things that interest teenagers. After calling up a few of our friends to chat we were getting pretty tired. It was only ten o’ clock though, so we decided to stay up a while longer. “Well, we can start pitching the tent,” I told my friend. Once that was done we set up our sleeping bags and got ready for a good, “warm” night. After staying in the tent for a few minutes we realized that it was quite cold. So, we decided to go inside and put on long johns. After dawning a pair myself, looking good with the tight–fitting, body–hugging long johns on, I dug through my drawers and got a pair for my friend. Now we were prepared and ready to have some fun.
As we entered the tent my friend said she had to use the bathroom and would be right back. I told her to wait a while because I had something important to tell her. She said ok and joined me inside the tent. Once inside I noticed that she did have to go quite desperately, what with all of her rocking and foot shaking. You’d think she was at a crazy dance party or something. Then I received a little message from my bladder that I needed to go myself. An idea popped into my head. I decided to challenge her to a hold–it contest. After talking a bit longer, I made my move. “I bet you pee your pants before I do!” I blurted out. “What,” she stammered, her voice a bit shaky. “I bet that you pee your pants before I do!” I told her again. “You are on,” she retorted. So for about thirty more minutes we went on gabbing about boys; each pretending we didn’t have to go to the bathroom at all, knowing full well we were bursting at the seams. I could tell though, that my friend had to go worse than I did. This excited me. After a few more minutes we couldn’t hide it anymore. I began rocking back and forth and she started with the foot shaking again. After about 5 more minutes we both had our hand between our legs squeezing our crotches as tight as we could, trying to hold back the warm torrent of urine begging to come out. Our bladders were at the breaking point. “If she doesn’t go soon I’m going to go all over myself,” I thought. Just about that time she let out a little peep and squeezed even tighter. She stood up, eyes closed, trying her best to hold it in, but it was too late. Her muscles, tired of holding back her pee for so long, finally let go. As the first few golden drops ran out from between her hand and to the floor she began to sob. “You won!” She said dismayed, “I can’t stop.” I was too interested with the now gushing torrent of pee emanating from between her legs to really take notice of her statement. Her hand was now soaked. Oddly she stood still, like she was paralyzed, her hand between her legs as if she could somehow stop peeing. Her skin–tight long johns were getting wetter and wetter. They were now very yellow instead of white. And they had turned almost transparent. Her black g–string thong was now in plain sight. It offered little protection against the flood of pee, but that was fine with me. The puddle at her feet was growing as well. All of this intrigued me. As the warm pee streamed down her legs I realized my legs felt a little bit warmer. As I looked down, to my horror, I realized that I was peeing too. In all of the excitement I had forgotten to keep holding back. A warm river of pee began to stream down my legs now. The warm pee made me look even better in my skin–tight long johns. I was a bit disappointed, but hey, what’s the point of a hold–it contest anyway? After her river began to trickle and dry out I was still going strong. I loved the feel of the wet, skin–tight long johns now sticking to my legs. My blue thong was worse for the wear, however. With little material to absorb my pee I was dying. As my friend started to notice something was going on, I tried to hide the fact that I too was peeing, but it was no use. She began to laugh and I did too.
After going inside and cleaning up we raided my underwear drawer and dawned new, dry thongs. After sleeping through the night without incident we went off to school the next day. We laughed and talked about the night before and the next day, my friend told me how when she got home she had peed herself again. We both kept peeing our pants pretty regularly and remained friends. We are still friends, and lets just say I keep an extra pair of long johns around the house.
Grim Reaper