The Graduation Party

I was at a cocktail party to say goodbye to the graduating seniors, as I am a sophomore history major. All of my professors were there and it was really important to make a good impression, as they would be writing my recommendation letters in the future. I dressed in a conservative blouse with tight gray matching pants and jacket. It looked conservative but good. On the way there I drank a bottle of water, as it was quite hot. I didn’t worry about having to go to the bathroom, as I knew I could go there. When I got there I began talking to one of my Profs. He offered me a glass of apple juice and I didn’t want to refuse, so I took it and drank it while we talked. As I walked around the room, one of my best friends and graduating seniors insisted I drink a glass of champagne with him, as this was a celebration. So I did, and as I finished my bladder came calling. I was about to go to the little girls’ room, when another of my Profs took me aside and began introducing me to people. All the liquid was coming on STRONG. I began shifting uncomfortably and crossing one leg in front of the other. I had to get to the bathroom fast. But they kept talking and talking and talking. There was no way I could excuse myself, as these people were all faculty. I sat nodding and smiling, the whole time in a panic, as I could feel the urine pushing to escape. I thought it couldn’t get any worse when they announced, “everyone take your seats it’s time for speeches!” My professor asked me to sit with him. Worse, he was sitting right at the front! I sat down and immediately crossed my legs as tight as I could, placing my hand under the table for a quick squeeze. When the first speech began I was almost in tears, it hurt so bad. My legs were shaking and twitching and people began to give me funny looks. There’s no way I could get up in the middle of the speech I thought, but if I could just wait it out I could then go in between speeches. My palms were sweating and I was wringing my hands together desperately, trying everything to hold on. Just as the speech was winding down and I thought I might make it, someone at the table poured water into a glass. The sound of that water splashing into the glass caused me to momentarily lose control, squirting for three seconds into my tight gray pants. I whispered, “shit” and grabbed my crotch under the table, feeling the moistness in my pants. I was now sitting with my thighs pressed against each other, and both hands under the table pressing up against my crotch. Finally the speech ended, and I quickly got up to sprint to the bathroom. But as I got up my bladder momentarily weakened, causing another 3–second spurt into my pants, making a very noticeable mark down my inner thigh. Everyone at the table looked at me, and all I could say was “I really must go to the bathroom, now!” No one said anything and I sprinted toward the restroom, with one hand still in my crotch. I had to run through the whole room, and everyone saw me. I thought my desperation would finally come to an end and then I saw a three–person line to get into the women’s bathroom. I hopped from foot to foot while crossing and uncrossing my legs, doing anything to avoid totally peeing my pants. The person in front of me went in and stayed in there for what seemed like an eternity. I was completely panicking, tears streaming down my face as I held onto my pussy for dear life. What was she doing in there? As I heard the water faucet come on, the mixture of excitement that she was almost done and hearing water splashing caused me to totally lose control. There I was, at a cocktail party, urine streaming down my pants. I finally gained control after about 10 seconds, but it didn’t matter. My pants were completely soaked. I went in and peed the rest out. I looked in the mirror at my soaked pants. Wet stains extending from the crotch down both thighs and soaking my socks. “Great, now what am I going to do?” I thought. As I walked out of the bathroom, two other sophomores with whom I didn’t get along began pointing and laughing hysterically. All I could do was walk quickly out of the room and to my car. I let out some more in the car, soaking my ass. No one spoke of that day again, at least to me, but everyone surely remembers.
Jessica