idea: someone who decided to take a long self care afternoon, had a bath, a lil drink, got all pampered and comfortable, and settled on their bed, a soft blanket under their naked body, as they slowly begin teasing themselves with the intent to drag this out and edge themselves mad with pleasure. they didn’t intent to start needing to use the bathroom at any point, but, by the time they think they should’ve gone before starting this, they’re already aroused and flustered, comfortable, and quite busy. it would be a hassle to stop when they feel so good and have been slowly building up the feelings, to wipe their hands, make their way to another room, walk on cold tiles naked, sit on a cold seat, only to relieve themselves, having to wipe away some lube and oils their poured on themselves in the end. not to mention… they’re quite turned on, who knows if they would even be able to go at all, how long it would take for them to relax. so they decide they can ignore this one unexpected element in their otherwise perfect self-care leisure time.
they won’t change their plans either: they are taking their time with this, all the time they need to built up pleasure and expectations, to bring themselves higher and higher, and then they intend to keep themselves there for as long as they can bear. they won’t let themselves finish too soon, they won’t allow it. only when they can’t take it anymore will they find release.
as pleasure rises, so does their need for another kind of release. they end up shaking from desperation, their sex twitching under their touch, begging for relief, as their body pleads to allow it to orgasm and to empty itself.
by the time they’re nearing their breaking point in terms of edging, it’s hard to keep their hands off themselves to not finish too soon, because they might piss themselves if they can’t hold.
when they let go on the brink and nearly have a ruined orgasm, they squirt pee with every desperate twitch to come.
the thought of “I’m gonna piss myself if I don’t hold” forces itself at the forefront of their mind, and it takes all of their self control to not grind into their palm as they squeeze, because if they did, they’d come.
when they come for the first time, they didn’t mean to. they were struggling to keep a wave of desperation at bay, a hand firmly planted between their squeezed together thighs, when a particular squirming movement undoes it all. recognizing the feeling about to hit them, they retract their hand and spread their legs, but it’s all for nothing. they gasp, struggling to keep climax at bay. their pelvic muscles fail them, a dribble escapes them, followed by a squirt of pee, and then their orgasm takes over, ruined. it leaves them twitching all over, small spurts forcing themselves out through the contractions.
they still haven’t fully lost control, not over their bladder at least. delirious with need, and needing the full pleasure that was just robbed from them, their hand goes back between their thighs, and it doesn’t go away even when the overstimulation makes them squirt and dribble a nearly uninterrupted stream.
it doesn’t take long for them to be on the edge again, and, this time, they don’t try to stop it. they all but scream as, finally, pleasure reaches its apex and they vigorously stroke themselves through it, adding on to the mess on the blanket. they keep rubbing until the last remnant of pleasure is gone, and then some more, for good measure.
as they fall back onto the bed, their body going limp after the release of so much tension all once, they feel warmth wetting their fingers again. they are powerless to stop it this time, and lack the will too. they slowly empty themselves while they reel from the high of it all, basking in the afterglow and shivering from the pleasure of finally letting go.
