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  1. Hello, everyone. Here's part 7 of the Gentleman series -- on a Friday morning, no less! Let's hear it for three-day weekends. Getting close to the end of the story now. And yes, the tags are correct; while as usual this is mostly about desperation, I decided to include something for the wetting fans. Bonus points if you get the title reference... or remember the ad that Dacy mentions. I saw it when I was in high school on the cross-country team, and I was electrified. My usual links to all the prior chapters: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 5 1/2 Part 6 We pick up right where Part 6 left off. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “So I was about to go for a run. But I’d just gotten back from class, like today, and I had to pee,” Dacy began. Parker realized what he was in for. And a little voice in the back of his head whispered, Well, you can feel guilty and uncomfortable the whole time, or you can sit back and enjoy it… ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Dacy was so glad to get up and moving. She loved learning, but she did not love sitting in lectures for hours on end. She’d been craving a run for hours. All she had to do was pee and she’d be on her way. She tucked her ID card and her room key into the little pouch inside her shorts, grabbed her running shirt, and pulled it on as she left her room. For a second she was blinded as she tried to pull the shirt down. Just at that second, hands grabbed her wrists and held them in place, keeping her from getting her shirt off her eyes. Other hands grabbed her ankles and swept her up off the ground. For a moment she was utterly terrified. And then she heard the giggle. She knew that giggle. It was Trina, one of her best friends. She also realized how incredibly unlikely that she would be kidnapped by sex slavers from the middle of her dorm at 4pm in the afternoon, when everyone was coming and going from class. And then she remembered. How often had she made that boast? Hundreds of times. She always bragged that she knew the back roads around campus so well by now, even as a freshman, that she could get plopped down blindfolded in the middle of the country and she could work her way back to campus, no problem. It seemed that some of her friends were calling her bluff. By the time they got to the door of the dorm, she was laughing too. She was still laughing when they dropped her into the trunk of the car and closed the lid—although it was still a little scary to be locked in the dark, even knowing she was in friendly hands. But she was less scared than ticked off that they’d grabbed her on the way of her dorm room and not, say, on her way out of the bathroom. She wasn’t about to pee her pants or anything, but she was definitely way more full than she liked to be at the start of a run. Involuntarily her mind flicked back over a few times she’d been in this situation back in high school. And she thought of the Adidas ad with the girl runner popping a squat behind a tree. “Runners. Yeah, We’re Different.” Well, that was true enough. And maybe she was about to act out that ad for the first time in several years. When she stopped thinking about peeing for a second, she realized that she should have been keeping track of which way the car was turning. She’d probably have been able to sort out what streets they were on. But soon enough she realized that her friends had thought of that too, and were taking extra turns—totally uselessly, since she’d lost track before they’d gotten out of the parking lot. Besides, she didn’t want to spoil the joke… and she wanted to test out if her big brag really was true. Mainly she just wanted them to get to where they were going, so she could get going herself. In more way than one. After what seemed like quite a long time, the car came to a stop and abruptly popped the trunk. Dacy scrambled out, naturally enough—she wasn’t about stay cooped up a second longer!—but as soon as she turned around, the car started to pull away, trunk lid still up. She recognized the car—Trina’s, naturally—so that little effort to hide their identity was pretty useless. She sprinted after the car and slammed down the trunk for them. No need for them to be driving dangerously. Trina accelerated a lot more as soon as the trunk slammed, and Dacy was left in the dust, literally. She looked around. Well shoot, she thought. So much for doing the Adidas ad thing… It was nothing but cornfields as far as her eye could see—mid-spring cornfields. The only way she could pop a squat in the cover of these cornfields would be if she were six inches tall. On the other hand, there wasn’t much else, either: she could see a couple farmhouses in the distance, and that was it. She wondered if she could just squat down, even out in the open, with nobody to see. But she was still on the road, and anyone could come along. Better to get moving so she could get back to campus. Which way, though? Well, she couldn’t tell where she was—north, south, east, or west of home. The only way she could think of to find her way back was to run until she saw something she recognized. She started off. Uh-oh. Just as soon as she started running, the jolts of her shoes hitting pavement shot right up her legs and into her bladder. Running was going to be hard, hard, hard. But what else could she do? She wanted to get back to campus before dinner, and she didn’t think she’d be able to pull that off walking. Besides, if she didn’t want to drop her shorts and give the whole world a free show, she had to get back to campus, ASAP. So she clamped down and kept running… a little more gingerly than usual. Besides, she wasn’t sure how far she had to go: better to conserve energy. The country was starting to look familiar. She thought she was south of campus and the main highway. But how far south, and on what road? There weren’t any street signs. There weren’t any other streets! She decided she was probably heading east, but what did that mean? Was she getting closer or farther from school? A couple times she almost stopped, second-guessing herself, before deciding that she had to keep going or all the ground she’d covered would be totally wasted if she’d been right the first time. A couple of times she had to stop for real, for other reasons. Peeing in a cornfield was starting to sound really good, free show or not. But then she saw a farmhouse, shaded by a couple trees. The road was taking her straight for it, so she kept going. She wasn’t sure she wanted to knock on a stranger’s door and ask to use the bathroom, but it was probably a lot better than getting caught by a stranger in their cornfield with her shorts around her ankles. She was about a hundred yards from the house when a sudden thought crossed her mind. She was an 18-year-old girl wearing a thin white t-shirt with the school name plastered right over her boobs, and she was wearing a hot pink sports bra underneath that shirt, and underneath the bra were her boobs. Those boobs meant she’d had to beat off boys with a stick in high school. More than once she’d had to kick a guy who got way too handsy. Between that and the back pain, the only time she was ever grateful for being so big up front was when she had a boyfriend (or wanted one), because the boys were always ecstatic. The point was, she had no idea how the local guys would react to her. Growing up in Minneapolis, she’d never had much experience with “Red-State” folks. She wasn’t sure she wanted to find out here and now, far from home and with absolutely nobody knowing where she was. I mean, this is how the horror movies always start… She knew she was probably being unfair, but she was nervous enough that she couldn’t make up her mind… and then the dog started barking. She must have jumped a foot in the air. And when she came down, she felt a sudden spurt of pee. She crossed her legs and squeezed tight, and got it back under control. Dacy did not do dogs. She’d never liked them, and when she was out running she always hated it when they started barking at her and surprised her. She hated off-leash dogs even more. And this dog was not only not on a leash, it wasn’t even behind a fence. As soon as she could move without leaking, she scurried to the other side of the road and ran as quickly as she dared past the house. Thankfully the dog seemed well-trained, and didn’t cross the road to chase her. But she was definitely not asking for a bathroom at that house. Once the dog was well behind her, she stopped and inspected the damage to her shorts. It wasn’t too bad… but she sure wished she’d worn her black shorts and not her light blue ones. The wet patch was clear enough if someone looked straight at her. If she kept running, though, probably nobody would notice. Which meant she definitely wasn’t going to stop at any farmhouses now. So all she had to do was run back to campus… which she still didn’t know how to do… without completely pissing herself. I got this. That dog just scared me, that’s all. She coasted down a gentle hill and came, at last, to the first crossroads. She looked at the street signs. The name of the road she’d just run into sounded vaguely familiar, so she turned on it. After a short way she nearly cheered. A much larger road was up ahead. She was sure she’d recognize the name. She ran the last few hundred yards eagerly, almost forgetting the pressure in her crotch. Oh no! It was a classic good-news, bad-news situation. Good news: she knew where she was now. She even recognized the place, now that she was looking at it from a more familiar angle. And her navigation problems were now totally over: the road was the Cartersburg Road, which would take her almost straight back to campus. Bad news: she’d been running the wrong way. She guessed Trina and whoever else had helped had dropped her off almost due south of campus. She’d been running away from campus, and now she had to jog four more miles on the Cartersburg Road to make up that distance. Four more miles… well, four and a half, really, since the road didn’t go directly back. She still had to cut across the fields behind campus. Four and a half miles was nothing to her, she could jog that easily, but it meant four and a half miles to the nearest bathroom. Eep! As soon as she’d thought that, her bladder leaked again. She squeezed it off and looked down. A bigger patch this time. Zero chance of stopping anywhere or hitching a ride. She wasn’t shy at all with her friends, but going up to some stranger with a big ol’ wet patch between her legs? Plus the boobs? Nope. Well… nothing for it but to start running, so she did. It was getting harder and harder to do that, though. She had to balance it out: if she ran at her usual cruising pace, eight minutes to the mile, she’d be home in half an hour. Not good, but probably the best she could do—she could run a lot faster than that, but not over four miles, not after already having jogged probably close to three, and definitely not when she was bursting with pee. But that bursting part was becoming a real problem: she tried to get to her usual pace but she constantly felt like she was about to spring a leak. If she slowed down to jogging pace again, ten minutes to the mile, she wouldn’t get back for forty minutes, maybe more. She wasn’t sure she could last that long. She decided to alternate faster and slower as best she could, and tried to pretend she was doing interval work. The other problem with the Cartersburg Road was that it was really boring. She’d run it too many times last fall with the cross country team. But she wasn’t about to go exploring today: the road was a straight shot for home and the nearest safe toilet. About fifteen minutes later, so not quite two miles up the road, she had to stop again to squeeze off another leak. The wet patch had grown a bit again. She stood, cross-legged and bent slightly over, blushing furiously; she was aware of the view she was giving the passing cars. Darn her boobs! They were so useful for getting attention when she wanted it (and she often did) but she couldn’t turn them off. But there was nothing else to do. If she let go she thought she would explode. She hadn’t needed to pee so much ever in her entire life, she was sure of it. After a minute or so she felt she was back under control. She kept running. As she crested the hill that told her she had a mile to go on the Cartersburg Road, she decided to risk going a little faster on the downhill. It backfired almost immediately: she felt another squirt. She couldn’t squeeze it off fast enough—nor stop running fast enough, and she felt three more squirts as she slowed down to look at herself. The wet patch in her crotch was now quite large—no way to pass it off as anything else. And in fact she was going to still have this big wet patch when she got back to the dorm… that would be a big problem. Could she take off her t-shirt, hide it somehow? No good, the shirt wouldn’t wrap around her waist… and besides, that would mean she’d come running back into campus in nothing but a hot-pink sports bra and she did not want that kind of attention right now. She kept jogging. What else could she do? She’d have to deal with getting into her dorm undetected somehow, but first she had to get there. She crested the next gentle hill and saw the college’s woods spread out before her. Yes! She didn’t have to get all the way back to campus after all! All she had to do was get to the woods! She could hide behind a tree and re-enact the Adidas ad after all. That wouldn’t solve the wet patch problem, but it would solve the problem that right now her bladder was just screaming to pee. In all honesty, she might not be able to make it the last half-mile to campus anyway. She had to go so bad! She turned off the Cartersburg Road at last, and good riddance. Just another few hundred yards across this field, then across one last narrow country road, and she’d reach the woods. Then she could go a little into the woods, find a tree or a bush big enough to hide behind, and pee pee pee… No wait, she wasn’t even going to go that far. She was going to go behind the very first tree she got to, whether it was wide enough or not. She could let go and it would feel so good… Um, she’d settle for the drainage ditch on the far side of the road. If she crouched down enough she could be hidden and PEEEEEEE The next leak felt like a crack in the dam. She tried to speed up. Just another fifty yards! At most! Thirty, even! But that acceleration was all her poor worn-out crotch muscles could take. It was by far the biggest spurt yet. She slowed to a halt, crossed her legs… felt another two huge spurts, felt the pee not stopping at all but instead trickling down her crossed legs… she dropped into a squat almost unconsciously, tried sitting on her heel… the fourth spurt dwarfed the others… In one quick jerk she got her butt off her heel and got her shorts off her butt and peeeeeeeeeeed and oh wow it was like coming it felt so good to let go… But she was squatting bare-assed in a field that was not very big and had roads on all three sides of it and there were cars coming and going. She tried to squeeze it off. It took a lot longer than she’d expected. Oh her bladder did not like that, did not like it at all. Slowly, shakily, like she’d just finished a 8k at high speed, she stood up and pulled her shorts up again. She tried to jog and stopped after three steps as she spurted still more into her shorts. She got it back under control—how, she didn’t really know—and carefully walked the last few yards (two small squirts), crossed the road without stopping to see if anyone was coming, crossed the ditch (another squirt, bigger), walked in among the trees, squatted down with her back against the first one she’d laid eyes on (squirt), pulled her shorts down again, and let it all go. She heard somebody call out and opened her eyes. Nobody in sight. It wasn’t until she’d checked over both shoulders that she realized it had been her, gasping with the pleasure of pissing. Oh, wow, how much was I holding? Finally it trickled off. Waves of relief were still flooding through her, but she had to inspect the damage. Her shorts were totally soaked, crotch and butt, all the way up to the tag in the back waistband. It looked like when she’d squatted in the field, she hadn’t gotten them all the way down. There was zero question of hiding it. There was pee all over her legs, too. Now that she’d taken care of the peeing part, she really really wanted to go to the bathroom for the shower part. She thought about wiping off her legs with her shirt, thought better of it, and stepped out of her shorts. Okay, now she was naked from her waist to her ankles, so she moved fast, using the still-dry parts to wipe off a little of the pee from her legs. At this point, what was a little more? Then she pulled her shorts back on—that wasn’t fun at all—and took the card key out of her pocket. She jogged back out of the woods and through the fields. As she got close to the parking lot, though, she picked up speed and started sprinting for all she was worth. This overpowered her sports bra and she was aware she was bouncing like mad and probably catching ever hetero guy’s eye in a hundred-yard radius, but it looked as if she was finishing some brutally intense workout and nobody was going to stop her to talk to her. And if anyone noticed that the backside of her shorts was a much darker blue than the sides, well, by the time they did she was already ten yards away and moving fast. She got into sight of her dorm. Not many people around—was it dinner time? Could she be that lucky? But still some. She didn’t even start to slow down until she was at the south end of the building, and had to brake quicklyat the door. Up the five steps, unlock the door… and then once she was through the lobby she could run down the hall to the room she shared with Meagan, fling the door open, and get safely inside. Meagan would know but she’d understand. And maybe, just maybe, nobody else would know. She stepped through the door into the lobby and came face to face with Trina, Dan, Meagan, and at least a third of the cross-country team. They stared. For a second, Dacy stared back. And then she burst out laughing. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Oh shit, Parker thought, I am so turned on right now. Dacy was still giggling. “Can’t you just see it? My shorts were so soaked it looked like I’d been running in the rain!” Yeah, I’m picturing it rather a lot right now. How can I get out of this room without her noticing my hard-on? I bet it’ll be just as obvious as her shorts were… “Oh, hey, Meagan! How long have you been standing there?” Dacy said. Meagan was standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame, arms folded. It looked like a casual pose, but her face was absolutely expressionless. And with that clue, it was obvious that Meagan’s relaxed pose was nothing of the sort. She looked as tight as a guitar string. “Hey,” Parker said, a little weakly. Meagan straightened up, turned, and walked away without saying a word. Oh. Shit. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Stay tuned for the final installment, probably posted over Thanksgiving weekend (that's in two weeks for non-Americans).
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