Desperate Piss

  Last night I went out with my friends (and my boyfriend) for some drinks. I hate using the bathrooms at bars because they always make me feel uncomfortable, so I knew I’d have to watch how much I drank so I didn’t have any issues. But, as many know an intoxicated brain cannot think that logically. So, I didn’t stop drinking when my brain started sending me warning signals of my filling bladder. I continued drinking as my bladder continued filling. The perfect equation for an accident. By midnight my I was dancing with my thighs pressed together and the occasional crotch grab. By this time my boyfriend (who I had found out also taken an interest in this fetish) noticed this and started dancing with me, keeping me close to him. Not even an hour later I had to stop dancing to stop from spurting in my lacey panties. My boyfriend sat down with me and put me on his lap, almost constantly bouncing me on his knee — teasing my over flowing bladder. By 2 am I whispered into my boyfriend’s ear that I wanted to go home, and so he paid our tab and carried me outside.

  Walking back to his flat was the worst. I was drunk and stumbling around hunched over with my hand between my legs. He kept grinning at me and walking slowly, dragging the walk home out as much as he possibly could. He had the key to his flat so unless he hurried, I had almost no chance of making it back to his place with dry jeans. During that torching stroll I had to stop once or twice to stop the constant spurts from becoming a full on stream. I eventually stopped and just held my hands between my legs and collapsed on the sidewalk. I looked up into his smug eyes for the first time since we had left the bar.
“I… I can’t move or I’ll pee.” I whimpered. He laughed loudly at me and picked me up. He started to walk briskly. His rough gate once again torchering my poor bladder. I started to spurt again and just moaned and held my hands between my legs. By now there was a baseball size wet patch between my legs. We started up his sidewalk to his flat and he stopped to let me down. I got up and started walking slowly behind him with my head down, my legs pressed together, and my hands between them. I didn’t care anymore about being seen. I just cared about making it. We got into his flat and I started off towards the bathroom while he went into another room. I reached the bathroom to find it locked. Groaning loudly I crossed my legs and screamed his name. 
“Anthony!! The door’s f***ing locked! I can’t hold it!” I looked towards the stairs to see him look over the railing without a shirt on. He smiled and walked down the stairs and slowly towards me. He wrapped his arms around me and whispered; “Let it go Taylor.. nobody’s here to say. Common baby. I don’t like to see you struggle like this..” I whimpered and looked into his eyes. He gave me a stern look and pressed his finger against my bulging bladder. I let out a soft cry as my bladder forcefully emptied itself into my skin tight jeans. I couldn’t do anything but just stare at my legs as I pissed myself in front of him. The piss streaming between my fingers and over my hands, a pool of hot piss gathered at my toes.  As I looked up his body towards his face I noticed his cock stiff and pressed against the zipper of his jeans. 
I might write a second part to this, it will be slightly fictional just to keep the interest of this website. Let me know if you want more and give me some suggestions. 🙂

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Responses

  1. Oohh yeahhh… in such a situation, sure enough my cock would also have been very hard and pressing against the zipper of my (probably pooped !) jeans !

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