You’re only moments away, you can feel it.
He knows it too, if that sly look on his face is anything to go by. You shuffle from foot to foot under his gaze and look down at the living room carpet.
You hope he won’t mind when you inevitably leave it soaked.
“Princess,” he says quietly, his eyes trailing down your core to your trembling legs, “do you need something?”
You shake your head willfully, and yeah, maybe you’re being a little stubborn. But you know he’s only asking so he can say no, watch your wide eyes sparkle with embarrassment and you can’t bring yourself to ask. Your heart is racing and you can barely focus on anything but the full feeling that’s breaking you down.
God, you can’t do this. There’s no way. You’re one breath too deep away from losing what little, miniscule control you have left. You can’t even meet his eyes anymore, not when his gaze is that heavy and you’re already carrying the weight of what feels like the entire world on your bladder.
“I can’t-” you whine, you try to speak, but it’s cut off by the need to clasp your legs shut just a little tighter as a wave of something washes over you. Both of your hands fly down to clutch at yourself, and the television remote you held in your hand clatters to the ground.
He walks over to you with a soft laugh that’s both taunting and fond. His fingers touch your cheek and you blink up at him.
“Please, if you just let me use the-”
“No, I don’t think so,” he coos softly. You let out a small whine, grip yourself a little harder. You knew it. You knew he’d say no tonight, and until now, the idea was thrilling. But now you’re coming to the end of the road and the impending humiliation is sinking in.
Your breathing is a little shallow, and your cheeks feel hot. He’s waiting, and you’re waiting, and you feel an urge coming that you don’t think you’ll be able to stop this time.
“Please-” you start, you plead, but then that urge, that undeniable urge, it’s here and you aren’t paying enough attention and you miss it.
You gasp at the first leak, although it feels good. You resent the fact that you squeeze your legs back together. You want to let it all go. But something is holding you back.
His hand on your cheek drifts down your body, along the curve of your side, and you shiver. You know where that hand is going, but you don’t stop it.
A single finger runs along the small wet spot on your panties poking from between your closed legs.
He tsks at you. “And here I thought you were a big girl.”
You whimper at his touch. You want him to touch you more, but you know you can’t take it. So instead, you groan in protest when his hand slips further between your legs.
You know this is it. You can’t hold it anymore. You’re going to burst, there’s no doubt about that, and now his hand is keeping you from holding it like you need to.
“Go on, princess,” he coaxes, “it’s fine.”
And then with a hand much stronger than your will to stop it, he gently pushes your leg away from the other, just a couple of inches, and now you stand spread and trembling for one final millisecond, and then it’s over.
As the wet warmth seeps through your panties and travels down your legs, your hands lift up to cover your face. You can’t watch. For a couple seconds it’s a light stream, as if the residual shame is having it’s last battle.
And then you can’t stop as it comes out in a flood, no longer just running along your skin, but also pouring from the center of your panties and straight to the carpet. The carpet that’s soaked at your feet. You can feel it.
And you know he must feel it too. He’s standing so close, and you wonder if he’s okay with standing in your mess.
“That’s it,” he encourages, and you whimper again. He’s watching you. You can’t see him, but you can feel his eyes on you. You were never brave, never one to like being the center of attention, but there’s something about the cocktail of this moment that makes you feel something close to elated.
Your heart is still pounding, but you feel…euphoric.
Like it’s the first day of warm sunshine on your skin after weeks of cold, bitter air. Like you just won a lottery you never purchased a ticket for. Like you just ran a race and broke the ribbon at the finishing line.
Like you just drank four too many glasses of wine and pissed yourself in front of the man you love.
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