Stacy Sneezes

Stacy was only 18, 5’ 9” tall with a curvy yet slim looking figure, shoulder length blonde hair, but her best assets by a mile were her eyes. Amazing dazzling blue eyes that seemed to sparkle whenever she smiled. It was on a college archaeology weekend and we paired up to find some old roman remains on a site in west Yorkshire that I can’t remember the name of. She looked amazing in her light blue denim pedal–pushers and I remember the way she got embarrassed when she realized that compared to the rest of the people she wasn’t appropriately dressed to go digging!
It was about 2.30pm and we were due back at camp at 5.00pm. She turned to me and asked: “Are there any loos around here? I’m bursting.”
I said that I hadn’t seen any, as I hadn’t, but suggested we took a walk back to the camp (about a mile away) if she was really desperate. She said that she’d could hold on for a bit and then we got talking about going out that night for a few beers and laughing at the last time we went out when her mate Alex fell off the table and broke his finger. It was during this that I noticed that when she laughed really hard, she crossed her legs.
This went on for a few minutes when she whispered (and I’ll never forget the words) “Oooooooh stop it…. you’re gonna make me wee!” She then declared that she was going to have to walk back to the camp to use the toilet otherwise she’d wet herself. We packed up our things and began the walk back, chatting away when she stopped dead in her tracks. I asked what was the matter and she had the most unusual vacant expression on her face. Her eyes began to close and her face contorted and I realized she was about to sneeze. Her gorgeous face screwed up and her head tilted back ever so slightly and then a pause…. “Aah..MPHch!”
Her sneeze was almost silent but as she sneezed her legs bowed at the knees. “Bless you,” I said and we started to walk on in silence when she stopped again and gave the same expression on her face. She began to sneeze, a few sneezes and all stifled and almost silent with the occasional “Mpff” at the end but as she sneezed she had one hand on her nose and the other pressing her crotch as again her knees bowed.
She said: “It’s my hayfeve…hayfe…hayf…MMPHcho…oo!” She began to sneeze violently and each sneeze caused her to push her hand harder against her crotch and her knees bow even more. After four or so sneezes she crossed her feet and actually said to me, in a state of delusion and mid–sneeze: “Paul, I’m… aaahha.. aa.. HESHOoo!” She didn’t stifle this sneeze as it took her by surprise and her knees gave way. “Paul, I’m…weee… eeeeeEEIIINNG… MPPHFch!” I looked at the bit of crotch I could see behind her hand and the denim looked black not blue. She carried on sneezing rooted to the spot in complete agony as the wet patch slowly made its way down her thighs.
After a few minutes, the sneezing became less frequent and she sat down on the grass. “Don’t you ever tell anyone about this, it’s happened three times since I left school, if I sneeze and I need a wee then I wee!”
She seemed to show humor to cover her obvious embarrassment and we used my two cans of Sprite to throw over my self and down her top and the rest of her trousers and told everyone back at camp that we’d had a water fight on the way back. Nobody batted an eyelid. I’ll never forget that day for as long as I live.
Paul