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     This happened in 1974. That's when I was in high school. I'm not going to preach about 'things were different', or 'it was a different time', because it really wasn't. We didn't have a lot of the 'toys', that are common today, but people were pretty much the same. 

     The first thing you need to know, is that in high school, I had a big, super major, mega crush, on Mrs. Jones. She was the English teacher. I . every class she ever taught. Not just the 4 years of basic, and advanced, English classes, but also, Creative Writing, Poetry, Drama, [of course] and, for some reason, Greek and Roman Mythology. I'm not sure how that fit into the English department, but apparently it did. It wasn't enough to just take the classes. I had to get a straight A, in all of them. There was no way I was ever going to look bad in front of my super major mega crush.  At least that was the plan. Of course, at some point, Mrs. Jones had the 'crush' thing all figured out, and took advantage of it, every chance she got. Not in a bad way,[where are all the female pedeofiles, when you need them?] but in an anything she needed done, sort of way. Chalkboards need erased? I'm on it. Erasers clapped? Consider it done. Paperwork that needs to go to the office? It's on the way to my next class, Mrs. Jones. She knew I was lying, but it didn't matter. There's no way the office could be on the way to my next class, for 4 years in a row, twice a day. That's not even possible, but it didn't matter. She wasn't about to spoil a good thing. Her classroom was on the third floor. It didn't. matter that some of the other kids made those kissy noises at me, or called me 'teachers pet'. I was already what today's society calls a geek, anyways. In those days, we were called dorks. Same thing. Dork just sounds worse.

      Anyway, drama class. We were going on a field trip, to see a play, down in Seattle. That's about a two-and-a-half hour bus ride, from where we were. Anybody that's read any of my previous stuff Knows that amount of time puts me in a serious, but not critical situation. I'm not going to do the whole time line thing, again, but three hours, tops. That's the limit for my teeny tiny bladder. I made it there ok, but I'm glad there weren't any hangups. 

     When we got to the theater, after the bathroom break, all the kids were hitting the snack bar for snacks, and drinks. The 32 ouncer seemed to be the going thing, so I got one too. That may have been my first mistake. I wanted to get a smaller one, but I didn't want to 'wuss out' in front of the other kids. Damn peer pressure. 

     This next little bit has nothing to do with Omo, but it's germaine to the story, so I have to include it. The theater we went to was an architectual masterpiece. Beautiful. I was a navy brat, growing up, so I had been pretty much everywhere. When I was 7, we went to Ford Theater, where President Lincoln was assassinated, in 1865. Whomever had designed this theater, whether by design, or just chance, had done a really good job of duplicating it. I was impressed.

     The play we were seeing was "The Vagabond". There was a point, early in the play, where there was an offstage shotgun blast, which I, of course, didn't know was coming. As we all took our seats, and I swear, I didn't plan this, I ended up sitting next to Mrs. Jones. If I was to have a plan, that would have been it, but I swear, no plan. I just figured the fates had smiled on me. So the play starts. I was still thinking about Ford Theater. I was actually paying attention to the play, and what was going on, but at the same time, I was drifting back to 1865, and trying to decide just where Lincoln would have been sitting, on that fateful night. Right about THERE. That's right when the shotgun blast went off. I flew out of my seat. "OH MY GOD THEY'VE SHOT THE PRESIDENT!!". As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I wanted them back, but it was too late. Everything stopped. As in, the world stopped turning kind of stopped. The whole theater was looking at me. Even the actors on the stage stopped, and looked at me, with 'what the... looks on their faces. I don't know how long it was like that. Too long. Finally, one of the cast members, turned back to his castmates, and recited his next line, and the world started rotating again. I sank back down into my seat, and tried to disappear. I couldn't, but I tried. Then it got worse. Mrs. Jones leaned over, and asked " What was that all about? " That's when I realized, not only had I just embarrassed myself, right in front of everybody, not my first time, for that, but I was sitting right next to my super major mega crush, Mrs. Jones, when I did it. It couldn't get any worse than that. And then it did. 

     As the play went on, I began to realize just how big a mistake that 32 ouncer was. I don't know how long the play lasted. It didn't matter. The soda was accelerating the rapi, dly deteriorating situation, and I was sitting next to Mrs. Jones. I had already embarrassed myself once, and now this? I'm wearing faded blue jeans. Any leakage was going to show, and with me, any leakage, as I've explained in previous stories, isn't leakage. It's a total loss situation. As soon as that first droplet hits the exit ramp, they're all coming. There's no stopping it. I was sitting there, trying not to squirm, any more than necessary, and hoping she wouldn't notice. At first, I think she didn't, but at some point, I could tell that she had. She was sitting there, with her lips curled in, where you couldn't even see them, and pressed tightly together, with an evil grin tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her eyes were all lit up. She was actually getting a kick out of my 'discomfort'. Fortunately, the play ended shortly after that. We still had to sit through each and every cast member, taking their bows, one at a fucking time, but being that close to the end, really helped. Finally was over. As soon as Mrs. Jones got out of the way, I went charging past her. She already knew, so I didn't see any point in trying to act nonchalaunt. I couldn't risk there being a line, for the bathroom. She actually started to ask, "David. What was that abou..." " Later " I cut her off, as I charged up the aisle. When I got to the bathroom, all the urinals were busy, and the stalls were filling up quick. I dove into one of the last ones, slamming the door shut with one hand, and tearing at my zipper with the other. I almost made it. By the time I got it out, the flow had already started. I got the walls, the floor, the tp rolls, and the seat, before I finally got my aim settled down. 

     When I was finished, I didn't even care, much, about the stall. I was more concerned with 'personal' damage. Besides really wet hands, my tighty whities were also soaked. Fortunately, they had taken the worst of it. My jeans had a few sprinkles, on the legs, from the flinging pee, but the crotch area was ok. With a dry crotch, sprinkles on the legs wouldn't matter. I just had to make sure the crotch stayed dry. With that in mind, I decided to off the undies. I left them on the floor, behind the throne, and went 'commando' for the first time. That's what they have janitors for, right? I rather enjoyed the freedom, and switched to boxers, after that. Plus, it's easy to free 'myself' when I'm in a hurry. 

     I had been in the bathroom so long, that when I came out, it was mostly empty. I was the last one to get back out to the bus. As I approached, I could see Mrs. Jones 'checking' to see if I had 'made it'. I was glad I had offed the undies. I had already 'checked' a couple of times myself. I don't know what I would of done if there was any 'evidence'. I'm just glad there wasn't.  So we got on the bus, and headed out. The bus we had for this trip was a 54 passenger bus, and we only had about 20 students in the class, so everybody had their own seat, all to them self. There were even a couple of empties. That was nice, until Mrs. Jones came and sat next to me. She had her own seat, in the front, so I was kind of surprised. Not for long. Turns out, she had a purpose. 

     Her: "Is it later enough yet?"

     Me: "Later enough for what?"     I really didn't know.

     Her: "Later enough to tell me about who shot the president." 

     Me: "Do I have to?"

     Her: "Oh yeah."

     Since there was no escaping it, I decided that as long I was going to have to embarrass myself anyway, I might as well give it the full treatment. So I told her the whole story. All of it.  Ford Theater, the Lincoln assassination, the drifting back in time to 1865, and picking out Lincoln's seat, just as the shotgun blast went off. When I got to that part, she burst out laughing, after listening intently, up to then. Literally burst out. After about one second of that, one hand shot to her mouth, and the other to her crotch. She leaned forward, and arched her back. Her legs were shaking, and her eyes were scrunched tightly shut, lips pressed together. 'Oh my god, she's going to pee herself ", I thought. I could see the intensity in her face, as she battled for control. Somehow she won. I saw her start breathing again. As she gradually relaxed, I saw her check behind the hand she had been holding herself with, just to make sure she was still dry. Yeah. I checked too. Then she stood up, faced the other kids, and informed them that I was about to explain the 'shot the president thing', so I had to relive that disaster for a third time. You'd think this might damage the whole 'crush' thing. It didn't. Crushes defy all attempts to damage them. Then it got worse.

     By the time we had gotten going from the theater, we were in rush hour traffic. That turned a two-and-a-half hour bus ride into just over three hours. 3:06, to be exact. I know. By the end of the ride, I was counting every minute. Desperately. At first it wasn't too bad, but time, and the last of that damn 32 ouncer, was making the situation worse, by the minute. At first, I was trying to be cool, and not squirm too much. The longer it went on, the less I cared about the 'not' part. The only saving grace, was Marybeth. She was sitting directly across the aisle from me, and was in as desperate straits, as I was. I looked around the bus, several times. A few of the kids had slightly concerned looks on their faces, but Marybeth and I were way past 'slightly concerned'. At one point, she leaned over and asked how much longer we had. When I told her, her 'Ohhh gawd' response said everything. By the time we reached our home town, Marybeth was full on holding herself, with both hands, and not even being shy about it. I was only using one hand, but that's only because guys hold themselves differently than girls, or at least I do. I was every bit as bad off as she was.

     As we rolled into the parking lot, Mrs. Jones stood up, and announced, that after a short break, we were all expected in the classroom, for a short discussion, before we were free to go home. By this time, school had been over for hours, so there were more than a few groans. I didn't care. I was all about the 'break'. When the bus came to a stop, I fired out of my seat, determined to be the first one off the bus. Problem was, Marybeth had the same plan. Now I'm just a little guy. I know every 'short' joke there ever was, whether I want to, or not. All the insults, all the smartass remarks. Marybeth was not a 'little' girl. She's what you would call a 'big' girl. You would call her that, even if she wasn't overweight, which she was. She was the kind of girl, that if she was a guy, people would call her bubba, or ox, or moose, or some similar name. She was really a nice girl, but pretty was not her forte. She had a real bad case of not pretty, but this is about how big she was. She was several inches taller than me, and about twice my weight, so when we met, head on, at the aisle, I went flying. How I managed to not piss myself right then, I'm not sure. I bounced back up, intent on being next, but that was not to be. The kids were making record time in getting off the bus. I ended up being the last one off. While I was waiting my turn, I looked out the window to see how Marybeth was doing. She ran to the school building, still holding herself with one hand, and jerking on the door handle with the other, hoping to get it open. She couldn't. It was locked. Mrs. Jones had the key, and she was counting heads, as we got off the bus. That's when I realized being the last one off, did have its benefits. Nobody was getting in the building anyway, until Mrs. Jones got there, and she was counting heads, and being last off meant there was nobody behind me. That meant I could press my thighs together, and just move the bottom part of my legs. In my condition, that really helped. At least it helped keep the pee in. Then it got worse.

     I got down the aisle ok, but as soon as I took the first step down toward the exit door, that whole keeping my thighs together thing went all to hell. I had not considered that. As soon as my thighs parted, The piss started to flow, and there was nothing I could do about it. I tried, but like always, once it starts, there's no stopping it. In about one second, the kid in front of me, was going to step off the bus, and I was going to be right there, halfway down the stairs, full on pissing myself, in plain view of Mrs. Jones. My super major mega crush, Mrs. Jones. And there was nothing I could do, to prevent it from happening. It doesn't get any worse than this. I needed a miracle. Then I realized, I had a miracle. A miracle named Marybeth. 

     "Marybeth needs help!!" I hollared, pointing at the school, just as the kid in front of me stepped off. Hearing the desperation in my voice, [I didn't even have to fake it] Mrs. Jones head spun around to look at Marybeth. Marybeth, at this point, was still hanging onto the building door with one hand, with the other still jammed in her crotch, only now, she was slowly sinking to her knees, with a puddle forming beneath her, and all the other kids backing away. Mrs. Jones went, "Oh fuck" , and then "Hang on Marybeth!! I'm coming!", as she took off on a dead sprint, digging the keys out of her pocket, as she went. That was the first, and last, time I ever heard Mrs. Jones swear. Kinda hot, but I couldn't worry about that right then. I had my own problems. I also couldn't stand there and watch Mrs. Jones run, even though I did for a couple of seconds. She had a nice ass, and I'm a 'bottom' enthusiast, but my own situation became more pressing, as she got further away, since my situation, was dribbling down my legs. I took off around the front of the bus, and headed out into the parking lot.

     I stood on the far side of my car, and just let go. I didn't even bother trying to get it out. It was much too late for that. I just stood there, breathing in the cool night air, and enjoying the moment. I had escaped. It was kind of like Winston Churchills', "being shot at, and missed" moment. Then it got worse. I saw Mrs. Jones, and Marybeth, coming out into the parking lot. Mrs. Jones was consoling her. " It's ok Marybeth, Nobody's going to laugh at you."  I was pretty sure they would.  "It was a long bus ride, and a lot of the kids were really desperate. We should have  stopped somewhere. That was my fault. It's not your fault. It's mine." Don't you just love her, taking the blame like that. Somehow, my crush got even bigger. Ok. It really was her fault, but still.... Then I realized my predicament. I was about to be seen. I couldn't flee. I'd be spotted for sure. I froze. Like a wild animal, hoping I wouldn't get spotted. Marybeth was parked two spaces closer to the building, than me, one row over. I was about to escape again! Then, just as she was getting in her car, Marybeth saw me. She gave me a real quizical look. Mrs. Jones who had her back to me, saw the look on her face, and turned to see what she was looking at. Me. Then she looked at me real quizically too.  "David?" She asked. I was trying to formulate a response, when I saw it happen. Maybe it was the look on my face, or the way I was standing, or something else all together. In any case, I saw her mood darken. 

      Her: Sounding really pissed, no pun intended, "David!! In the parking lot!?"

     Me: "I couldn't help it."

     Her: "Why didn't you go inside, like everybody else?"

     Me: "There wasn't time. I was as bad off as Marybeth."   Marybeth got a real kick out of that.

     Her: "Ok. Fine. Whatever,  Let's go."

     Me: "Huh?"

     Her: "Marybeth is excused from the classroom discussion. You're not. Now come on."   My heart skipped a beat. Silver lining. She didn't know everything. Sure, she knew I had just pissed in the parking lot, but she DIDN'T know that I had just pissed MYSELF, in the parking lot. Problem was, now she wanted me to walk back into the building with her. Not gonna happen.

     Me: " I can't"

     Her: "And why not?"

     Me: "I'm not finished."   My pant legs were still dripping, so technically, not a lie.

     Her:  Big sigh. "Ok. Fine. But as soon as you're done, I expect you in the classroom."

     Me: "Yes maam."  She turned on her heel, and stormed off. I hated disappointing her, twice, counting the not going in part, but I really had no choice. All I could do was let go a big sigh of relief that it wasn.t any worse. I could make amends tomorrow, for ditching tonight. Then it got worse. 

     I heard laughter. My head jerked around to find the source. It was Marybeth. She was standing next to me, laughing, at me , standing in my puddle. Through the laughter, she gasped, "This is so great! I'm not the only one! I'm gonna tell everybody!" 

     Me: "No, no Marybeth. You can't."

     Her: "Oh yeah. I'm telling EVERYBODY. If they're gonna laugh at me, they're gonna be laughing at you too."

     Me: "No, don't Marybeth. I'll do anything."

     Her: "Oh no. I'm telling everybody."

     Me: "I'll do all your homework, for the rest of the year."

     Her: "I don't need my homework done. I'm not one of the stupid kids." 

     Me: "I'll do anything you want."

     Her: "Anything?" Just the change in the tone of her voice, was a red flag. Anything was about to jump up, and bite me in the ass, but how bad could it be? Worse than this?

     Me: "Anything you want."

     Her:  "Junior prom."

     Me: "Junior Prom? And you won't tell?" 

     Her: "Cross my heart."  Doing the motion. 

     So that's how I ended up going to the Junior Prom, with a girl who was several inches taller then me, about twice my body weight, and ugly as sin. It wasn't all bad. Silver lining. At least she was nice. And she gave good head. Tasted good too. Ok. Now maybe I'm bragging a little, if you can call admitting to an exchange of head for face, with a girl like Marybeth, bragging. But maybe it is. It was the Junior prom. She had kept her part of the bargain, so it was incumbent on me to keep mine. The Junior Prom is supposed to be a night she'll remember for the rest of her life. I did my best.

         

Edited by sednarb1 (see edit history)
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