It’s not over till it’s over

guy who is a heavy sleeper being woken up by his bladder. sleepy and comfy, he just ignores it and tries to go back to sleep. as he drifts in and out of sleep, his need gets progressively more urgent, but so does his resolve to actually catch more solid sleep. subconsciously, he goes to hug his comforter between his legs, eventually ending up with it bunched up high between his thighs, his ankles crossed to help. he starts to squirm and rock back and forth, trying to suppress the need for a bit longer. the motions have his soft dick slowly drag inside his loose pyjama pants, providing a gentle friction that toon have him not so soft anymore. he ends squeezing his thighs and grinding, now not only as a way to hold back his need to relieve himself but also because it just feels good. having an erection does help him hold, so much so that he manages to fall back asleep for a while… until he awakes again, now positively desperate. he finds himself already humping the bunched up comforter, softly panting, when he comes to realize his predicament. he needs to go now. he’s still sleepy tho, sluggish from waking up, and also finding it hard to think, because of his pressing need, and also the jolts of pleasure coursing through his groin with every shift. he’s fully hard, hard and leaking precum in his pyjama pants. the urgency of the situation means he can’t just stop grinding or he fears he’ll lose control. if he was more awake, he’d trust himself to make it to the bathroom quickly, but he isn’t, and he also can’t deny his slightly delirious self that this feels good. unable to reason, all he can do is hold onto the comforter tighter so it’s pulled taught between his thighs, providing both much needed pressure to help his bladder, and pleasure that makes his eyes roll back behind his closed eyelids. he desperately humps the blanket, feeling his desperation heighten and his muscles weaken—he has no idea how ling he’s been holding like this, but it must’ve been a while for how tired he feels already. pissing the bed isn’t an option tho, so he continues and can only moan in pleasure at the friction on his hard, leaking dick. a particularly good thrust sends him twitching in near overstimulation, and he has to halt his motions for a moment. doing so is what makes him leak for the first time. the feeling of warmth blooming on his dick head makes him frantic, he immediately resumes his humping with urgency. his pyjamas are too rough on his sensitive skin now, threatening his very control, but he he does dare stop or slow slow. he yelps and his hips stutter when another leak escapes him, and then another, and then another. feeling the limits of his ability to approach, he starts humping with desperate and renewed vigour, only speeding up every time his muscles spasm and another spurts escapes him. through it all, the pulses of warmth make his precum-slick pyjamas feel good like nothing else on his throbbing erection. unable yo think of getting up and making mad dash for the toilet—unable to think at all—the guy only moans and gasps as he begins losing control, though he never stops trying to hold it. he’s not done having an accident, and trying not to, when the pleasure in his stomach reaches a peak. he leaks forcefully, gasps, twitches, and then ruts against the blanket in short little trusts, until he forgets everything about holding and can only chase his imminent orgasm. he comes like that, hot and intense, inside his pyjama pants. for a brief moment, he forgets all about his desperate need to piss and just lays there, grinding, milking it out, until the pleasure begins to recede and his desperation comes back all at once. he leaks, a strong spurt that hisses, and immediately doubles down on his frantic grinding, only, this time, the movement is nothing but overstimulating his sensitive dick, so soon after coming. it has the opposite intended affect, as the sensation makes him twitch and his exhausted muscles spasm, allowing more piss to escape him. he tries to cling to control, he really does, but it’s futile.