tagFetishDousing the Fireworks

Dousing the Fireworks


I have this thing about peeing, both me and other women. I sit in the stall in the ladies room and I hear another woman come into the next one. She rucks up her skirt and I hear the rustle as she manages to yank down her panties and let fly As that first splash hits the water I get a flash of excitement right through me but I quietly massage myself down there where it feels good. Her stream peters out and I hear her roll off some toilet paper and wipe perfunctorily before she pulls up her panties and puts herself back together.

All this time I've been sitting there holding it in. I love to do this, until I start to feel I can't control it. I want to be made to lose control, to pee in spite of myself. It goes back to Miss Heath, of course, so demure as my high school English teacher, and clearly, from my view now, so wickedly depraved. She was so young and so severe in her white blouses and grey flannel skirts. I remember when she flipped her fiery red hair and told us that she was tired of interruptions so we should all take care of our needs before her class. In other words, there would be no passes to the girls room.

Inevitably I was late leaving my other class so I barely got to hers in time. I felt the stirrings down there that meant I would need to use the toilet soon. It got more and more urgent all during class. She must have had a sixth sense and realized what was happening because she called on me. She kept asking me more and more questions about the day's text and my answers kept getting less and less coherent. Finally I was summoned to her desk.

"Is there a problem today, Anne?" she inquired with a tight little smile.

"No, Miss Heath," I managed to answer as I stood there, trying not to show the tell-tale motions of a girl who now was becoming close to desperation in my need.

Her smile widened and raising her voice, she asked, "Anne, I think you may have neglected to take care of your needs before you came to class?"

My face turned crimson, betraying my effort to maintain control. And I felt a horrid burst…a splash of urine I had just released into my panties. Oh, no, I thought, this will be the talk of the whole school if I have an accident here.

"I could let you go to the girls room because I don't want to be cruel," she smiled. "But I'm afraid you will have to take an F for the day for your lack of control."

Oh my God, I thought, she's going to ruin my term grade all for this. I gasped as I watch her sit down and carefully take out her little grade book from the top right-hand drawer. I thought of everything going down the drain, all because I forgot to stop and pee, forgot to stop and pee.

"Well, Anne, what is it to be? Take the F and use the girls room…or stay here and participate as I know you are capable of doing?" she almost grinned at me.

"Miss….Miss Heath, I will stay here. I can manage myself, thank you." I focused on her last question, amazed that I could even remember it.

"Joyce was enjoying his contrasting of the fireworks on the beach in the Nausicaa scene, Miss, with Mr. Bloom's…er…causing his own little explosion," I smiled.

"And how do you conclude that that was what he intended?" she asked, with a gleam in her eye. "Did he really mean to imply that his leading character was doing such a … shameful thing?"

"Well," I answered, gaining confidence and feeling that the problem was under control at least for now if I tried to concentrate on the class discussion, "we do know from Joyce's letters that he had an inordinate interest in those kinds of things."

She could see that I was managing to keep my chin up and I think she respected me. I also think she was still hoping I would have an accident. She wouldn't get to give me an F but if it was noticeable she might be able to give me a bad mark in Conduct for the day.

"I don't think Joyce actually meant to imply that Bloom was abusing himself," a rather righteous girl named Sandy chimed in. "Maybe Joyce is teasing us with that idea but there is nothing in the text that confirms that interpretation. I for one would say that maybe Bloom was thinking about what he saw but Joyce just uses the fireworks to tease us."

"Well, Anne, what do you think about Sandy's view?" Miss Heath rejoined with a smile. "Was Joyce as dirty a young man as you have suggested?"

Now she was really trying to get me to lose it. "I can only say, Miss, that he was surely capable of what I've proposed. After all, his letters to Nora talk about the skidmarks in her drawers, to use his words."

The boys in the room giggled at that. But now Miss Heath zeroed in for the kill and I never saw it coming.

"Well, Anne, you seem to having a little problem with your own drawers today," she grinned with an indulgent look on her lovely clear face. "Do come up here again so we can see if you need some assistance."

All of my urgent need returned, when I had been so lucky to have managed to think about the class and keep it controlled that way. I glanced at the clock and saw we were almost at the noon bell. Could I make it, especially since who knew now what the diabolical Miss Heath might have planned or unplanned to undo me?

"Anne, I hadn't planned on having us perform a practical exercise on this particular section of Ulysses," she began, "but when you brought up the evidence cited in Joyce's letters, I began to think we might engage in a bit of-shall we say-investigation?"

All eyes were on me. "Anne, you've been wriggling for some time here now and I'm certain you failed to attend to your needs before class. Joyce, as you've told us, enjoyed inspecting his wife Nora's underwear for stains, and I thought we might find it educational to have a look at yours."

I blanched as I realized I was to be put to the supreme test. This woman would make me expose myself, lower my panties, and I only could pray I didn't disgrace myself in front of everyone. Thank the lord I had put on clean white cotton undies that morning. They did still let teachers do this at my school, all part of the whole drug deal, you had no privacy left.

I was going from being ashen-faced to crimson as she bade me lift my short skirt and then she expertly inserted her thumbs in my waistband to pull my panties down to my knees, reminding me with a sharp look to hold my skirt up. She bent forward to pull my panty crotch up so all could see it, but the boys were much more interested in my hair-covered split. I was merely thankful for my nice thick dark hair down there that shielded me to the tiniest degree but I just froze my mind to make this too pass, because if I let myself think that those boys are staring at…right, they are staring at my cunt, that is exactly what they are doing.

Then her eyes gleamed and she announced to the class that Anne was a true Joycean because there were wet spots in my panties. I grimaced and almost began to cry. She bent again and embarrassingly, for me, sniffed at the crotch. "No, Anne, I'm happy to say that you were not orgasming in those panties because it is clear you were having trouble controlling your bladder. But you managed to avoid losing control and I want to give you extra credit for that. You may pull up your panties and return to your seat."

I don't know how I managed not to spurt her right on her hand when she bent down and touched the panty crotch to check for what she must have assumed were cum stains. I wobbled back to my seat and just said to myself that I would hold on that I would hold on and that I would not let her win this one.

As the bell rang, everyone rose to leave and she smiled at me. I picked up my books and prepared to leave as well and she looked at me and said, "Anne, you're quite a girl. Most of your classmates would have lost control and peed if they'd been put through what I put you through. I'm giving you an A for the day."

I was dumbfounded as I smiled and tried to be very calm and nice and thank her and get out of there before I peed on her foot. "Oh thank you, Miss Heath, I'm so happy I was able to please you," I said, a shade too rapidly for my own confidence. I started to feel like I was about to lose control down there again and had to let a tiny dribble out. Somehow I closed the muscle again, somehow.

The demure, severe-smiling teacher put her hand around my shoulder and letting her own auburn hair flip past my face, said very quietly, "Come with me so we can take care of your little problem."

I was once again caught unprepared as she escorted me out of the classroom and into the oaken door I had always wondered about, labeled "Women Teachers Only" which opened into a comfortable sitting room where a few teachers whom I recognized were sitting on couches and smoking. We moved efficiently past them with a few nodding and saying hello to "Heather" as Miss Heath passed with me in tow. I guess it figured that a young woman so hard would have a pretty little name like Heather.

We were now in a rather smartly equipped ladies room-it was no big deal but compared to the wretched state of all the girls rooms in the school-and she showed me the way into a large stall. Then she stood there facing me, motion me to sit and do what was necessary. Miss Heath was going to stand there and watch me pee. I managed to lift my skirt and totally surprised by the turn of events yet again, slid my panties back down as my cheeks hit the seat and before I knew it, the loud ping of my pee hit the water in the bowl. It poured out from between my legs and her eyes were fastened on me down there.

Finally, it slowed and ended and when I reached for the tissue, I found her holding a soft cloth and bending…to wipe me between my legs and with enough force so it was definitely between my lips. I was getting very hot but then she motioned me to pull up my panties and get up. Without flushing she sat down herself as she rolled her flannel skirt up and pulled down the cutest little pale blue hicuts. Then as I gazed admiringly, my severe teacher let her stream go and like mine, it was no little tinkle but a gusher.

As it stopped, she smiled at me and said she knew we would be even better friends. "Anne, would you like to wipe me now?"

I took a deep breath and I don't know what made me do what I did. I bent down and kissed those thin tight little lips and tasted a mix of her salty urine and her sweet sweet woman taste. She didn't try to stop me and finally held my head down there as I licked and licked at her core. She began to move her bottom around on the seat until I felt a spurt more-one that had a rich feminine flavor-emerge deep from within her into my open mouth.

"Anne, I want you to write your next theme on the Nausicaa episode-but let's imagine that this time it's Gertie walking along the beach watching Molly? Do you get my drift?" she grinned.

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