Jenny

It was a rather nice day, with the only threat being a couple of sprinkles threatening to fall from the sky, and it also happened to be the day that one of my friends and I had to go to a camp that we attend every year. And this year, I got my license and a pretty nice car and offered one of my ex–girlfriends who now is one of my good friends a ride to the camp, in which she gladly accepted. The flyers we each received told us to arrive at the camp no later than noon, so I began to hurry as it was already 10:45 and it takes about 45 min. to get there, not including picking Jenny up. I called her back and told her that I would be there with absolutely NO time to spare so she should have breakfast and be waiting for me outside of her house by the time I got there. “And by the way” I threw in, “Have some coffee to wake up!” By the time I was finished getting ready, it was about 11:00. I got to her house at about 11:13, leaving us 2 min. to get the hell out of here. I pulled up, and she wasn’t outside, so I hurriedly walked in her house, forgetting to knock and saw her downing a cup of coffee. I told her we had to go and asked her if she was ready. She asked me why I was so uptight, and I then informed her of our tardiness. She too then began to hurry up. I repeated myself, “Are you ready?” I said. She replied, “Almost, I just have to use the bathroom real quick” I looked at my watch and told her we didn’t have time and it was11:20. I took her by the arm and she followed, with one bag in her hand and the rest of her luggage in my other hand ready to be put in the trunk. And if this could possibly get any worse, there way moderate traffic preventing us from going the speed limit for more than a couple minuets. Out of frustration, I turned the radio up loud on my favorite rap station. I quickly noticed that Jenny was apparently enjoying the music, because she was keeping the beat with her legs. After about 15 minutes, I noticed she was no longer keeping the beat, just bouncing her legs up and down, with her hands resting comfortably on top of the duffel bag she had laying on her lap. She motioned for me to turn down the radio and gave me a look of discomfort. I did as she asked, and asked what was the matter? She kindly asked if we could stop somewhere so she could go to the bathroom. And for that reason I had a hard time declining to do so, and then I informed her that it was mostly her fault for not going before I got there. By now, the traffic was almost unnoticeably letting up, but none the less, it was. I turned and looked at her occasionally jiggling her legs in a rhythmic pattern. After about 15 more minuets, Jenny turned and looked at me and pleaded that we stop somewhere, otherwise she was going to pee her pants. I was mildly turned on by that thought, but thought nothing more of it, and simply said that we didn’t have the time. “Because if we stop, we surely would not be admitted to the camp” I said. One part of me didn’t quite believe she actually had to go, and thought it was just nervousness. I did away with that thought by asking her what she had for breakfast. She said she had two tall cups of coffee, a glass of milk and a bowl of cereal. Now I believed her. A few minutes later I glanced over at her and saw that one hand had crept under her bag and onto her lap. Relieved that she didn’t see me looking at her, I turned away and kept my eyes on the road. A few minuets later I couldn’t help but notice that both of her hands had slid under the bag, and that there was some movement under the bag. This time she saw me looking at her and replied by telling me that her hands were cold and it was warmer under the bag. This was an strange experience for me, because I have never witnessed anyone having to relieve themselves so badly, and was probably just as strange for her, probably never having to go so badly, because we were only 20 and always had the resources there for us. By now there was a lot of movement going on under the bag, and at this point she was playing with herself wildly trying to keep the piss from seeping out, not even caring that I was watching. At this point the bag fell off, but Jenny didn’t seem to care. She looked as if she were struggling to play with herself through her skin tight pair of designer jeans. They were so tight I am amazed she could even get a grip on anything! We now had about 15 or 20 minuets to go until arrival the way this traffic was going, and it didn’t appear that Jenny was gonna make it. I then commented on her struggle to do anything through those thick jeans. I then through the suggestion of un–buttoning and un–zipping them. She asked if I were serious, and I reassured her I was. She agreed, and before I knew it, I looked over and saw the bag back on her lap and heard the sound of first a button, then a zipper. I looked over at her for a few seconds at the momentary expression of relief on Jenny’s face. No sooner than I looked back at the road, I had to hit my brakes to prevent an accident, hoping not to start one inside my car. I did not hit my brakes real hard, but hard enough to make the bag fall off of Jenny’s lap and to make Jenny stop playing with herself with both hands and use one to firmly press on her hole, trying not to piss. She informed me that a drop managed to find it’s way out during the excitement. I had excitement of my own happening, trying to conceal my hard–on. Now we were driving up the camps seemingly endless driveway. I told her that when we pull up to receive our cabin assignments, she would have to have her pants up and hands off of them. She looked at me with fear in her eyes, as she slowly began to do up her pants, still pressing her probably swollen hole, with her free hand. She placed the bag back on her lap and began helplessly playing with herself again. Though it was hardly noticeable, I felt like giving her a little payback for not going to the bathroom before I got to her house. I removed the bag from her lap and said no. She stoped playing with herself and began figiting wildly. As soon as we got through, I droped her off at a bathroom. A second or two later I read the sign on the door that read the word BOYS. I quickly ran in the bathroom after her and behind me was the male supervisor of the camp. He walked over to Jenny’s open stall right as she was un–ziping her pants and said “Are you aware that this is a mens restroom?”
Jenny bent over and crossed her legs even tighter than before and let out a moan and replied “no” as she made a desperate grab for her crotch to stop the urine from flowing, but it was to late, as a large wet spot had travelled from her crotch to her knee in a matter of seconds.
PhatZilla.