I was 16 and my girlfriend, Katie, was 17. We went ice skating at a nearby park pond many years ago, on a frigid January day. I wore tight-fitting, faded tan courdury pants. She was beautiful with dark hair, a pretty smile, and great figure. I stood six feet, slim, with reddish brown hair. We'd been drinking hot chocolate. It was a sunny day despite the cold. We left the pond for her mom's house after a couple hours. I had wanted to stop in the warming house bathroom first. There was a line. With a playful, teasing smile, she asked if I'd wait. We do have a bathroom at home, you know. She always had a reason for doing anything, and wasa planner. I liked her and her more dominant personality. We walked, talked, and laughed. I felt a steady expansion of my bladder, but put the growing urge aside. I didn't want to show that need to her. In those days, people weren't as open about functions. The temperature was falling and felt like ten below. She turned away for a minute to do something and I sneaked a cupped hand over my crotch, and involuntarily pranced, shifting my feet, somehow keeping this childlike motion out of her sight. I had time to test the zipper and snap on my pants, wanting to loosen them, ease some pressure, and get a head-start on the process once I was in her bathroom. They were frozen stuck, like my mittenless hands. An interminable time later we reached her home, where some younger kids, ages 8 to 12 or so, mostly girls, were playing in the front yard. My gf stopped to say hello with them, and they seemed oblivious to the cold. They watched us, finding the dating thing interesting and funny. She took out her keys, a welcome sight! But the key worked hard in the cold and the door stayed closed. She was working on it, but not fast enough. Her back was to me as another bladder surge hit, and I thought of leaving, back to the gas station, and then I could come back. It wasn't far, and if a bush, presented itself on the way...The kids eyed me while Katie eyed the lock and keyhole. They whispered and I heard giggling. I told Katie through chattering teeth thatI would try the back door. I did that, walking funny, and holding myself, cupping a red hand against the pressure, stopping once to clamp my legs together. I decided I would leave, walk away to...anywhere else. I strained my inner muscles, thinking of anything else...her hair, her kisses, her... A couple of kids had followed me. They watched agape at the big boy with crossed legs. Then, there was a backing off, a reprieve, but I knew I had to get inside soon, or just leave. I walked toward the side walk to leave. Then I heard my gf yelling to me, saying she thought she was almost in. She said just trust her, that it will be OK. I went to the porch to her. This moment, she said later, was about the sweetest of her life, that I would put faith, blind faith, in her. That I would trust her that it would be OK, that however the details turned out, she would make it OK. She still struggled with the lock. I then tried it, to no avail. She tried again. She was apologetic, cold, straining, as I was, in a sense, in shared desperation. She was beautiful. Then...the key snapped off. She gasped, then sighed, and slowly turned to me, a few feet away, with a sympathetic smile, looking me in the eyes, and said, "Oh, goodness, now what else can happen today? And that is when I wet my pants. She watched my eyes unfocus, go into shock, and lose contact with her, despite my lingering thoughts on how nicely her blond hair spilled onto her sweater. I was numb, reality slid away. I felt like a bird above, outside the porch, with the curious children, looking down at myself. I distantly felt an explosion, then hotness, sudden contrastwith the frigid air, spreading out from my center. I watched her eyes flicker with a knowing, yet startled, guilty realization. The focus of her pretty blue eyes moved downward to my middle. This was not happening. I'm dreaming this. My disbelief was literal. I would wake up. I felt helpless, total surrender of my stressed bladder inner muscles, and thought the unthinkable....that my beautiful girlfriend was now watching me wet my pants. No, it couldn't happen to me! I am a big boy. This is a nightmare, Oh, please God. My eyes had followed hers, downward. We watched, frozen, in morbid facsination, as the baseball-sized, dark circle of wetness spread out and out, dark, glistening circle, almost symetrical, spread and burneded, a jetting firehose invasion of cotton underpants and courduroys. And I couldn't stop it if my life depended on it. I watched and prayed itwas a dream. I wondered how much there would be, if she were still watching as intently as I was, (she was) or had turned away in embarrassment, and if she would tell her girlfriend about this (she did, but only her) and if she would shun me. (she didn't). The dark wet spot exploded out to basketball sized, and at that point my shock turned to panic. I high-stepped my knees, prancing, cupped myself tightly, pressuring several yellow guysers shooting out between my fingers, cascading to the wooden floor, splattering in loud waterfalls amidst the otherwise quiet. I saw her watching this Niagra falls with rapt attention, unable to look away, and yet with sympathy, an it's-ok air, already wanting me to be alright, despite knowing I was enduring a teenageboy's worst nightmare with his girlfriend. She was still, but seemed to move around in my vision becauseof my frenzied jerks of motion in my busy but futile effort to block the flood. I was a parody of a young child having an accident, except I wasn't a young child. This wasn't supposed to happen to me. It lasted approximately forever. After frenzied prancing, I resorted to clamp my knees hard together, my right hand buried between my legs. We all watched the sheeting tide of darkness streak down my thighs and legs, leaving light tan dark and glistening, and splashing to the floor from the Vee between my knees. It was the classic posture of desperation, legs together, fingers cupped, feet apart, yellow waterfalls tinkling down to the widening lake at my feet. After hours that was probably two minutes, there was silence. I just studied the floor, noting the streams of my urine breaking from the main pool, going off on their own. Silent tears broke out, my eyes giving out as my bladder had. I thought of the should-haves. In the back yard, when I could have still left. Anytime, really. Before now. Then, in the reflection given off in my pool, I saw her. She smiled, and moved toward me, after giving me a moment for realization to sink in. She put her hand to my red, wet cheek. And, finally, she spoke. With velvet soft words. "It's okay. No one is hurt. It's an accident. No injuries and noproblem." She added, "You are not the first boy to wet his pants. You won't be the last. It could have happened to me. No car accident, no skating. No healing needed, even, just a little laundry time, and we have time." She went on, with a smile, covering for my embarrassment and trying not to stare too much at my newly sodden, darkened pants, wet from top to bottom, the only dry areas on the sides of the legs, sying, "And there is a good side to everything. This was meant to happen, David." I actually smiled at that. She said thatabout other seemingly "bad things." She said good is despised as bad, and sometimes the other way around." To the giggling, pointing children, who watched my awkward walking withmy knees still clamped together, she said, "Please, you all, give us privacy, and you know, I'll bet some of you have had an accident, too. It was my fault, not David's, becausehe was just too nice to tell me at skating that he really needed to go. I should have been more patient. And I was the one who couldn't get this stupid door open. Even teenage boys and girls have accidents. Please don't tease the poor guyover wetting his pants out here. Let's keep it our secret." I was afraid that wouldn'thappen. She looked at me with an even bigger smile and said, "Now lets get inside. Because now I get to take care of you." And she did. I don't know we got inside, but the door wasopen. I never asked and she didn't say. She led me by the hand to the laundry room. My pants, and steps, were heavy. I was crying softly. I stood in front of her, shivering a bit,but my legs still felt the hotness of my pee. And embarrassment. She looked me up and down, seeing the spectacle of a teenage boy who, except for size, had wet his pants exactly as a five year old boy would have. By now I didn't mind it, because.....because...I somehow sensed that she didn't mind it, and in fact, looked upon our situation as a kind ofproject to attack, a challenge borne of a weakness that could, with the right touch, become astrength. She said, "David, I'm just glad I was the one with you. Thank you for staying hereand trusting me. I was afraid you might leave. But I promised you out there that it would be okay, and it will. You probably thought I meant I would get us inside before you couldn'twait any longer. Well, that didn't happen, ha ha....sorry (grin)...but I will keep my promisethat you counted on, to make it all right." The smell...I smelled like a diaper, but it wasso fresh, it was not over-powering or awful at all. She told me I smelled like a little baby she had changed while child sitting, and that she liked it. She made a couple more little jokes. She laughed throatily that she might be the only girl in school lucky enough to see her boyfriend so vulnerable, without any manlyveneer. "I'm sorry, but I sort of...enjoyed...watching you desperate for a while, and thenhaving an accident. I don't mean it to be mean, I just like it that maybe you need me totakecare of you a little, like you take care of me, watch over me and keep me safe. I'm soglad you stayed here, instead of going off alone. I knew you might not make it, and I suredidn't want you to be all alone if it happened. I wanted to be right there with you. I wish it could have been just us two. I'm sorry you had to have the extra audience to seeyour accident happen, but it was probably a thrill for those kids to see it happen to anolder boy," she giggled. They will talk about it for a day and then be on to another subject.I don't care at all abouit your tears and wet pants, David. I just care about you, and us,It broke her heart to think of you alone. I thought you might leave because of the children, but as I said, you did them a favor, giving them something to laugh about. And you did me afavor too. She looked me up and down again. I looked down at myself. Only two corners of mypants, up around the hip side of the pockets, were not soaked dark. She began to unbucklemy belt, and then unsnap my pants, slowly pulling off my soaked pants, leaving only my partially transparent brief underpants that were new, out of the package, that morning, by chance.. I was letting her take control because I knew that was what she wanted. I began babbling for some reason, wanting a distraction. She was sitting on a chair in front of me, setting my pants aside and staring at my wet underpants. She seemed to hear nothing I wassaying. She was looking at her boy, and wanted now to see me all. She looked up at my face now, asking me with an arched eyebrow, if she could pull down my underwear. I wanted to delay it. I looked down and could think of nothing to say, wanting a delay and not wanting it at the same time. I actually told her about them being brand new, and for some reason, shefound this funny, and said it was a karma in reverse, that together we found a way to break them in, and again that it was meant to be. She held a mysterious look on her face, one of a child learning something brand new, discovering a hidden woods outside the neighborhood and determinedly venturing forward, around the treesalong the new path. I'd seen the look before, and loved it. She was always wanting to learn,to explore new things. I'd seen it in her studies, in areas of science, math, music, and politics. This was just a variation of that look, altered because of this extremely personal dance between us. I was overwhelmed by all the sensations, newly in deeper love, humiliation that she was coaxing toward...titilation, exhibitionism...or...how to find the right word? Itwas such an overload of exposure, between my near nakedness and my loss of control, that I just....surrndered it all...like aI was choosing to be okay with it by dropping any pretense of pride. Forget my pride, forget my shame at a childlike accident, forget about coyness atmy bare skin and involuntary arousal, but instead embrace the gateway they were now erecting, a gateway to....my musing broke as I went back to our last spoken words, which were aboutmy formerly fresh underpants. We both twinkled a bit, looking into each other's eyes, silent communication, and then broke into laughter, deep, heartfelt laughter, even as tears still streaked my cheeks. I was hers, then, completely. I asked her to just take care of me. Just like that. She gently pulled down my underpants, easing the new elastic gingerly over my penis. She looked at me there with curiosity and wonder, honestly, without faking not looking at me. I looked down at her face examining me, wondering how she could possibly be turning this....all okay. My embarrassment from peeing my pants wassuddenly forgotten and replaced with realizing that I was becoming fully, painfully erect,and that she was witnessing this transformation. When she first exposed me, I was flacidfrom wetness and embarrassment. But with her eyes, and then fingers, on my teenage penis,the response was immediate. She touched the head of it, and kissed it, with a nervous littlelaugh. Then I noticed my pubic hair, redder thanthe hair on my head, and shuddered with a wave of shame. It reminded me I was a teenage, "big boy" who was just not supposed to wet his pants, and certainly not in front of a girl. She got a cloth and washed me there, firmly and softly both, my thighs, knees, shins, ankles, feet, and turned me around to get the back of my legs and my behind,between and under my cheeks, and then back around to my front, continuing to stare unabashedly. She surprised me by saying, "I've wanted to see you, like this, for a while,now, and I think you are gorgeous. I hope its okay. I just need you to know that even ifyou are not glad this happened, I am." She put my clothes in the washer, and led me to the shower. She soaped and washed me everywhere, the impact of nurturing, true caring, was overwhelming. My tears came again, from another source...one of gratitude, and the unconditional love I received from this remarkable young woman. She held me to her breastsitting on a couch, me still naked out of the shower, she still clothed. I touched her breasts and she sighed, asking me if she could slip into her birthday suit as well. She told me all this would be our secret, except for her best friend with whom she shared everything. We made love, the first time for us each. That tied it all together, and the worst of moments became the best. It was giving, nurturing and sensuous. She was, and is, amazing. Was it an accident? To me, that day, yes. To her, no. To the Gods of fate,I think not. I drive by that house, that porch, once in a while. And smile.