there's something so endearing about a person who doesn't realize they're horny for piss at first.
like imagine someone stuck in traffic with a full bladder, desperately trying not to think about how badly they want to let it all out. they're hot and flushed and squirming, and their hips keep bucking up against the tight denim of their jeans. every movement sends a thrill down their spine, but they attribute it to the ache in their bladder and don't assume anything beyond that.
but finally, they can't stand it anymore and stick a hand between their legs. the pressure feels good, so good that they let out a choked whimper and grind against their hand. again, they chalk the bodily reaction up to how badly they need to relieve themselves, not even realizing how their cock/pussy throbs with every pang from their overfilled bladder. it's torture, yet they just gasp and moan and whine, brain too fuzzy to distinguish between all the different sensations.
when the dam finally breaks and piss gushes through their jeans, their eyes roll back and they shiver in ecstasy. the pee is wet and warm and somehow feels extra good, even though they can't figure out why. their accident creates a puddle in the seat, a reminder of their shame that simultaneously feels exhilarating. it takes a while for the person to calm down afterwards, breathing heavily and wondering why the hell they're missing the fullness of their bladder as the traffic clears up on the road ahead.
surely they're not a pervert who likes piss, right?
literally how I found out btw
