gotta go

But then that first real wave hits you. Just for that moment, no matter what else you have going on, all your thoughts are suddenly on your bladder, as it squeezes down. Your mind is blank, except for the sensation; tight, aching, urgent, out of nowhere– maybe you make a noise, or cross your legs, or grab at yourself, maybe without even meaning to. It's hit you– that sudden jolt of need, when you know– if you carry on trying to hold it like this, it's going to come out anyway.

trying to find a good angle on the bike seat to press your urethra shut

not being able to squirm because you’re in public and others would see

every little shake and bump jostles your full bladder

you need to focus on the road for safety, and it’s really testing your ability to focus on holding as well

a few drops escaping you while negotiating an intersection with other people

slowly leaking when you go uphill because you can’t squeeze your thighs around the bike seat

feeling your underwear dampen as little drops and spurts escape you. with the pressure of the bike seat on your crotch, it has most certainly leaked through to your pants

daring to grind on the seat a little when there’s no one in view, not that you can do much when you’re pedalling anyways

daring to let go of the handle with one hand to grab yourself for a few moments

hitting a pothole, you barely manage to hold back a yelp, but not the spurt it forces out of you

sweating through the effort, and being unsure how wet your thighs really are and how much is just sweat

hot drops rolling down your thighs excruciatingly slowly

there comes a point where you genuinely consider just letting go, because this is unsafe and you’re basically wetting yourself already

the pressure inside you is so strong you fear that you wouldn’t be able to slowly let it out and be subtle, so you decide against it

every leak is becoming bigger and harder to regain control of, your seat is fully wet now, and you’re certain you must be leaving a small trail of drops behind you

when you’re on the last stretch and see your home from afar, and the desperation only intensifies at the thought of relief being so close

you’re extra concerned about being seen struggling by your neighbours, so all you can do is clench as hard as you can while piss slowly runs further and further down your legs despite your efforts

you finally pull into the side alley where you lock your bike, and you can’t take it a moment longer

you take advantage of the semi secluded area to fully grind on your bike seat, hoping it will give you just enough momentary relief to dismount and rush inside to the bathroom (you can come back to lock your bike after)

it’s futile. the stream doesn’t stop, it grows, until you’re pissing yourself full force

wetness spitters on the ground below, tho the sound is quickly obscured by the loud hissing of piss hitting your biking shorts

he’s had so much to drink, so he’s definitely feeling it on the walk/ride back home. his mind is hazy due to the alcohol and he’s losing any of his typical reserved nature. usually, he wouldn’t be so open about his needs, but he can’t stop whining and fidgeting throughout the entire journey home. he’s constantly asking his partner when they’ll be home, how much longer it’ll take, and pleading if they can find somewhere to stop.

unfortunately, since it’s so late, there’s not many choices for him. his partner is trying to get him to retain at least a little bit of his dignity, reassuring him that they really don’t have that much longer until they’re home, but the poor thing is basically on the verge of tears from just how dire his need is.

he’s stuck with two choices: the alleyway, which is already risky, or trying to hold on until they’re home. who knows if he’ll actually make it..