Camp White Lake Part 4

Eleven-and-a-half-year-old Nick Lacrosse sat at the very back of the bus, by himself. His mother had packed far too much survival gear for one week’s worth of camping and it took up the majority of the seat beside him. Nick’s mother, Ellen, had been overprotective of him since his father had passed away and though it cramped his style and kept him inside a lot of the time, he understood. This was the first summer that Nick had been trusted to be on his own, and at nearly twelve, Nick felt he was ready. After all, he was due to start middle school in a month and he felt this was part of his journey into adulthood.

Nick stared out the window of the bus. His mother told him it was only about an hour to White Lake, but after only a short while, he was getting antsy. Having nobody to talk to didn’t help. He thought about reading his book for a little while, but worried he might make himself carsick and feared the embarrassment of throwing up in front of strangers. He took a long drink from one of the many water bottles his mother had packed and stared out the window at the cars racing down the highway in the opposite direction. He wondered where they were in such a rush to get to.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, he felt the indisputable urge to go. Nick looked around to see if there was a bathroom on the school bus. No such luck – he knew that. “Jeez Nick. Get a grip,” he thought to himself and slowly changed position.

It was only an hour to White Lake. How much longer could it possibly be? He would be fine.

Nick kept looking out the window and then looking back at the empty bottle of water. “Why did I drink all that water?” he kept asking himself, drawing no conclusions.

He checked his watch, then looked back at the traffic, then back at his watch. “Why does time go so slow when I need to…” he jiggled his legs, crossing and uncrossing. His bladder didn’t seem to like either. He looked around again to see if there were any authority figures on the bus. Maybe he could ask them to stop at a gas station… He stood up, one leg crossed over the other, dancing from foot to foot, and looked around.

An older leader sitting in front of him turned around. “I need you to sit down when we’re moving. We don’t want to have any unfortunate accidents,” the older, moustached man said.

“B-but-” Nick stammered.

“No buts. Sit your butt back down and I don’t want to hear any arguments.”

“But I have to-”

“We’re going to be there in ten minutes, whatever you have to do can wait until then.”

Nick gave up. The urge to go was getting stronger. He winced and scrunched himself up, but that didn’t help either. He tried crossing his legs or sitting on one leg, but neither made him feel any better. His heart was pounding and his stomach felt like it was being pushed outward from his growing bladder.

He stuck his big backpack over his crotch and, for fear nothing else would work, unzipped his jeans and held onto his private under the cover of his overstuffed luggage.

Nick had never been in such a dire situation before. His legs kept jiggling and he held his breath while his grip tightened. He closed his eyes. “Please don’t let me pee,” he thought to himself.

All of a sudden, the urge let up and Nick felt really strange. He felt as if he still needed to go to the bathroom, but he wasn’t able to. The grip around his penis felt different as well – it was harder. Nick was worried, but at the same time relieved. He pulled his underwear over his hard penis and zipped his jeans over it. In a weird way it felt good, but he wasn’t sure why. He closed his eyes and his hand was wedged between his tight legs. “Please, please, please don’t let me pee,” he prayed.

It was then that the bus stopped. Nick grabbed all of his things and tried to put on his backpack so he could be the first one off the bus. He had no such luck, and as the kid at the back of the bus, he would have to wait. He stood up and waited impatiently, pee-pee dancing desperately. The funny feeling he felt in his penis hadn’t gone away yet and it felt a lot better when he rubbed his crotch. He hopped from foot to foot and gripped his bursting penis in his hand. The second he was able to move off that bus, he wobbled as quick as he could down the aisle and out the door.

He approached the moustached man and asked, “Please – where is the bathroom?”

The moustached man pointed to a large, white-painted mess hall. “Over that way, you can’t miss ’em.”

Nick tried to run but the pressure was too much. He wobbled along as fast as he could. He could feel himself losing control. He felt it seep out a bit, but kept holding on. He knew he could make it.

He burst open the door of the bathroom and unzipped his pants. He was holding so tight he didn’t think he could pull down his briefs without peeing his pants, so he stuck his hand down his underwear and held on. But it was strange and sticky… he pulled down his underwear to find a mucus-like substance all over the inside of his underwear. Nick was so shocked he almost lost control, but he regained focus and let loose into the urinal. He sighed deeply. Nick was so relieved that he had made it in time. When he was done, he wiped out his underwear with a paper towel and pulled them back on. They were cold and still sticky, but they would have to do. Nick washed his hands and looked at himself in the mirror, making sure his wet underwear weren’t visible. He noticed a small, damp, speck near the bottom of the crotch, but it was only the size of a dime. Nobody would notice.