Jim and Betsy were college freshmen in Missoula, Montana; they met each
other in Chemistry class, where they had been assigned each other as lab
partners. Betsy was tall, dark and slender, a very pretty girl, but she
seemed quite shy and reserved. As the weeks went by, Jim found himself
thinking about her more and more, but she didn't seem to be warming up to
him, not that she was unfriendly either.
What finally broke the ice was a small mishap in lab. That day Betsy had
worn a blouse with loose flowing sleeves. As she and Jim worked side by
side, she turned to reach for something on the bench behind her. Her sleeve
brushed against a graduated cylinder filled with concentrated nitric acid,
knocking it over and splashing most of the acid onto Jim's pants leg. Betsy
was horrified at what she'd done.
After Jim realized what had happened, he hurried to the lab's emergency
shower and pulled the cord, managing to keep most of himself other than the
pants leg dry. Betsy stood next to him, feeling helpless, and apologizing
over and over. She offered to walk Jim over to the student health services
to have his badly blistered knee looked at, for that's where the acid had
done most of its damage. Jim could easily have taken himself -- the mishap
wasn't life-threatening -- but he had no inclination to turn Betsy down.
And so that's when they had begun to talk, and realized their many common
interests, including their interest in seeing more of each other.
They went out to movies a couple of times, and then a dinner; after dinner
and a couple of glasses of wine they found themselves holding each other
tight as Jim walked her back to her dorm room, and kissing in darkened shop
doorways. Two more dates and Betsy told Jim that she wanted to sleep with
him. The next weekend Betsy's roommate went home for the weekend, and Jim
and Betsy made love for the first time on her narrow dorm room bed. Jim was happier than he'd ever been in his life. The winter semester was ending and he suggested they go backpacking for a few days in Glacier National Park.
. . .
On this particular morning, early in June, Betsy woke up at the crack of
dawn. She was lying in her sleeping bag next to Jim, dressed in a set of
long johns. She needed to pee but she was just too warm and cozy in the
tent, especially after looking out the tent door and seeing the frost on
the meadow. She could wait a while, till it got lighter and warmed up a
bit. She lay back down, but her movement in the tent had awakened Jim, who
popped his head out of his bag, and kissed her.
"Good morning, beautiful," he said, kissing her again. She felt her lips
melt into his; he felt his morning erection begin to grow. He murmured as
they softly broke off a long kiss, "You know, there's room in my sleeping
bag for two."
She smiled at him conspiratorially, and wriggled out of her bag and into
his. There was room in his bag for two, but just barely. Lying on her right
side, her body pressed against him. Her nipples were erect, due partly to
the chill air, and could clearly be seen poking up through the thermal
material of her long john top. As they rubbed against his chest through the
long underwear top, Betsy's kisses became more insistent. "How are we going
to get out of our clothes in here?" she whispered.
"Mmmm, good question," replied Jim distractedly.
"Jim, I need to pee first," Betsy said, pushing him away. But just then
they heard a snuffle and a loud grunt, right outside the tent! They both
froze. Whatever it was, and they both knew it was possibly a bear, was
lumbering around very close indeed.
They waited what seemed an eternity, and finally the thing could be heard
moving off. Quietly Jim maneuvered himself into a postion where he could
peek under the tent door, but he couldn't see anything more than the tips
of grasses in the meadow. Just then a huge brown shape moved into his field
of vision. He quickly dropped the tent door and looked at Betsy, eyes wide.
"Is it a bear?" she asked under her breath.
"Uh-huh," Jim whispered even more softly, if that was possible.
"Is it a *black* bear?"
"Nope," Jim whispered. "It's a grizzly."
"Oh, shit!" Betsy gasped. The slight sound seemed to affect the bear, who
suddenly roared and began to move closer. Betsy and Jim froze again, their
arms around each other; they both knew that black bears were likely to raid
the camp for food, leaving the tent occupants alone, but that grizzlies
were far more unpredictable and dangerous. The previous year a young couple
had been badly mauled and their tent ripped to shreds by a grizzly, not far
from where Jim and Betsy were now camped.
In her long johns, pinned against Jim, growing warmer and scarcely less
petrified, Betsy became more and more conscious of the pressure in her
bladder. She cursed herself for not having gone out earlier, but then she
reasoned that she may well have run into the bear outside the false but
psychologically critical safety of the tent. Moving her head slightly, she
could see from her wristwatch that it was 5:50 in the morning. There was
nothing she could do but wait for the bear to go away. . . .
6:45 am: The bear hadn't moved; it was no longer snuffling around the camp,
but Jim and Betsy could still hear it breathing, incredibly close. They
could even smell the faint mustiness of its coat.
Betsy's bladder was approaching a crisis point now. Over the past ten
minutes she had felt hot flashes, and spasms and rushes of pressure, and
had felt several times as urine entered her urethra and threatened to
trickle out into her long john bottoms.
She was running her tongue rapidly back and forth against her teeth as she
concentrated on controlling her bladder, and tried to think about other
things. She and Jim hadn't spoken for a long time, both frozen in fear.
Suddenly the bear gave a snuffle and another grunt. They heard it moving
around. The sound took Betsy's mind off her pressing need to pee, but
suddenly it returned, stronger than ever, and she felt a few drops (at
least she hoped it was only a few) leak out into her pants. "Oh," she
gasped audibly.
But to her relief, the sudden sound provoked no more reaction from the
bear, whose shuffling sounds seemed to be getting farther away. Jim dared
to whisper, "I think it's leaving."
"Oh God, I hope so," Betsy replied. "I have to pee sooo bad."
"Well, I wouldn't go out there just yet," Jim hastened to reply.
"You just need to hold it a little longer."
"I don't know if I can!" Betsy whimpered. She was having trouble keeping
her voice down, and she felt another leakage, this time a little bigger
than the first. She tightened her groin muscles as best she could. To try
to make the time go by faster, she began counting silently.
She guessed that another three or four minutes had gone by. They had heard
no sound from the bear in that time. Betsy felt another spasm, and a rapid
building of pressure in her crotch, and she knew she had very little time
to avoid an accident. She gasped to Jim, "Oh Jesus, I've gotta go NOW," and
fumbled for the zipper of the sleeping bag.
But it was too late. The pressure was unrelenting and grew and grew, her
groin felt hotter and hotter, and she felt a steady trickle begin, and
become a stream and then a torrent. "OH GOD!" she cried out, as the piss
flooded out of her crotch, instantly soaking the right leg of her long john
bottoms. A noticeable hissing sound could be heard even through the fabric
of the sleeping bag, as the urine began to pool around her hip, rapidly
forming a puddle. She looked over Jim's shoulder and saw the yellow puddle
forming outside the sleeping bag on the floor of the tent. And still she
was pissing uncontrollably. She continued to pee for what seemed like a
couple of minutes, and even before she had finished she burst into tears.
It took Jim a few seconds before he realized what had happened.
He had felt Betsy tense in his arms, and heard her cry out, but it wasn't
until a few seconds had passed that he suddenly noticed a spreading warmth
on his left side. The warmth felt good, and Betsy was moaning and
whimpering a little -- for a moment he imagined that she was having an
orgasm and he felt his erection begin to return. Then suddenly she began to
sob, and the warmth on his side began to feel like wetness too, and it
struck him that Betsy had peed in her long johns, soaking the sleeping bag,
and that she in fact was still peeing! He moved his hand under the covers
to confirm his suspicion. The crotch of her long john bottoms were
drenched, and his long johns were also now soaking.
He accidentally touched her crotch, and she stiffened.
"Don't," she whimpered, and then began to cry harder. "Oh my god, I wet my
pants! Oh, I peed in my pants, and all over your sleeping bag! Oh I'm so
sorry! I'm so embarrassed!"
"Aw, sweetie, it's OK, it's OK," Jim crooned. "It's not the end of the
world." He hugged her tightly and was surprised to feel his erection begin
to grow, nurtured in the warm damp environment that was their piss-drenched
clothing and sleeping bag.
And Betsy, for her part, was surprised to find that the moment after she
told him not to touch her genitals through the pee- soaked fabric of her
long john bottoms, she wished that she hadn't said anything. She returned
his hug, squeezing him tightly, and felt his leg move against her clitoris,
and felt his growing erection against her leg. She buried her face in his
neck and moaned again, but this time her moan wasn't one of humiliation and
embarassment, but rather one of growing excitement. Now Jim's hand found
its way to her breast, and he was fingering her nipple through the still
dry fabric of her top, and now he was pulling the top up, exposing her bare
breast to the palm of his hand. "Oh," gasped Betsy again, and although this
was exactly what she had said a few minutes earlier, its meaning this time
was entirely different. She felt Jim's hands now yank her sopping long john
bottoms down; she kicked and tugged at them to try to help him remove them;
she stretched a little too hard and they heard the zipper of his sleeping
bag separate, but they didn't care, and now her long john bottoms were
around only one leg and she freed his cock, and as she pulled it through
the fly of his drenched bottoms it sprang up erect and hard, and she
wrapped her legs around him as he drove his penis deep inside her and
stroked perhaps only three or four times before they both cried out in
unison as his semen pumped into her and her vagina rippled in orgasm and
milked every last bit of semen out of him and they collapsed, spent.
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