That's just about it.

It only lasted a few seconds longer at that point, and eventually my bladder had completely emptied, leaving only a trickle forming tiny little puddles on the tile floor.

“All finished?” Mrs. Kunt asked, shaking me off considerately, before she continued wanking.

I took a moment to survey the damage. People all around me were soaked to varying degrees. The girl Karen, sitting in front of me, had particularly taken on a lot of liquid during my urination. She wrung out the bottom of her pink low cut tee shirt as if it were a towel, every now and then brushing away a wet lock of hair that kept falling into her eye.

The Asian girl, Nao, (I only knew her name because we had been in student government together in middle school, but even then we had been merely acquaintances) had taken out a compact mirror to diagnose any problems with her always elaborate makeup, of which there were many, as I mentioned earlier. She wiped away a streak of mascara on one cheek, one streak of at least half a dozen, then apparently deemed the situation beyond repair and put the beauty kit away, apparently content with the now almost goth-like appearance of her makeup.

I saw a few girls holding out sheets of their note’s or homework worksheets, now yellow with pee, letting the excess moisture drip onto the floor with the other urine puddles. One girl a row in front of me and to my right continued writing on a completely soaked paper, until her # 2 pencil made a tear in the wet, delicate paper. I heard her curse under her breath as she tried to smooth out the ripped section with a long, delicate thumb.

Even the front row hadn’t been spared from their unwitting golden shower. A girl with dark brown hair, made almost black from the dampness, took her hairpins out, leaning forward and letting her long wet hair fall and drip on the floor. She shook it out, almost as a dog would, except far more gracefully than any animal, sending tiny yellow beads of water in a mist onto the students behind her.