I was doing some geological field work, and as assistant I had got a young female geology student. Her name was Rebecca, and she was a very good-looking chocolate-coloured afro girl a bit above twenty, so I was not disappointed.
We had left quite early in the morning, I picked her up by car, and we drove for a couple of hours to the field area. We then worked outdoors the whole day, having a picnic lunch with tea or coffee and sandwiches midway through the work.
A couple of times, I went aside by myself to take a leak in the bushes, but I noticed that throughout the whole day, Rebecca did not do that. I figured that either she had a very big bladder capacity, and did not need to go for a whole day, or she was too shy and embarrassed to go out in the free, although there were plenty of bushes to hide behind, and simply tried to hold on as best she could. Since I had noticed that she had drunk very little tea for lunch, just sipped a bit on the mug, and drunk nothing after that, it could be the latter case.
Towards the end of the afternoon, I noticed that she had started to look rather distressed, as if she needed to go to the toilet quite badly, but was too shy to ask or to excuse herself and go behind the trees. I decided that it was time to finish the work and head for the place where we were supposed to stay overnight, which was a kind of youth hostel. Luckily for Rebecca, it was only a short and smooth drive there.
However, when we got there, it was still about half an hour before the reception was going to open at five o’clock. Everything was closed, and we had to wait outside at some park benches. By now, Rebecca was looking very distressed, but there was no toilet around outside the building. She sat down at the picnic bench opposite me, but she kept fidgeting and changing positions all the time, occasionally with some groaning. Now and then, she looked longingly towards the trees and bushes at the other side of the front yard, as if she was contemplating going there to relieve herself. There was also an old outhouse there, and she could have gone behind that outhouse to be completely out of sight when doing her business, if she wanted to. However, she was apparently feeling too shy and embarrassed to do that, particularly now when some more people had turned up and were waiting, and when there were only a few minutes left before the reception should open. And as she did not say anyt
hing, I did not want to embarrass her by asking any questions and bring up the subject.
Finally, the reception opened, and we went there first. An elderly woman was in charge of the simple hostel. I had booked separate rooms for me and Rebecca, but apparently there had been a misunderstanding and we had been given a double room. I explained to the woman that we were not a couple, and wanted separate rooms. But the hostel was quite heavily booked, and she was not sure there were two separate rooms available. In either case, we would have to wait until she had arranged for the other guests before she could see.
Rebecca had been listening to this discussion with a desperate look at her face. She was standing and squirming, apparently in urgent need of a toilet, but there was no toilet in the reception area. Suddenly, she said in a desperate tone:
“Please, let’s take this room, and get there quickly. I need to go to the bathroom very badly”.
So I got the keys to the double room from the reception lady, and got hold of both my own and Rebecca’s bags, as she rushed ahead of me to the staircase leading to the second floor where our room was located. As I walked behind her up the staircase, I noticed a small wet spot that had started to spread at the back of her jeans. For each step up the stairs, it seemed she released a small squirt into her pants, making the wet spot grow slowly. Well up the stairs, she hurried along the corridor to our room.
“Please, hurry up with the keys, I have to get into the bathroom immediately!” she screamed at me, as she stood fidgeting outside the locked door to our room, her legs half crossed, with her left hand stuck in between, desperately trying to hold back her flow.
I came after, and somewhat nervously fumbled with the key to open the door. We got in, and she immediately rushed into the bathroom and, without locking or even closing the bathroom door fully behind her, slammed open the toilet cover and sat down on the toilet seat.
I could hear a sigh of relief as the flood started. I kept listening to the sound of her flood going on almost forever, after having holding it back for such a long time. However, as I also could catch a glimpse of her sitting on the toilet through the bathroom mirror and the half-open door, I noticed that she had not had time to pull down her pants, but was sitting and peeing through her jeans and underwear.
Finally, as her flow subsided, she called out for some help in an embarrassed voice:
“Please, help me, I have peed my pants, they are all wet. Can you get me a pair of new jeans and underpants from my bag?”
I searched through her bag and found a pair of dry jeans and underpants, which I brought to her while she was still sitting on the toilet. As a true gentleman, I then offered to help her undress and clean up herself, before putting on her new clothes. Somewhat reluctantly, she accepted. I then led her to the shower, helped her to unbutton her wet jeans and pull them down, followed by her equally wet small white underpants. Then I helped her to shower and wipe her lower parts. As I did that, one thing led to another, and we got rather intimate in the shower before I finally helped her on with her dry clothes.
This had the consequence that she did not have to feel so shy about sharing room with me for the night, and after that night she continued as my girlfriend. However, each time I reminded her about the circumstances when we first got together, she would be very embarrassed and blush.