No title available
@theartofmadeline
ojovivo
titsay
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
d e v o n
sheepfilms
occasionally subtle
noise dept.
No title available
No title available
TVSTRANGERTHINGS
"I'm Dorothy Gale from Kansas"
❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
Sade Olutola
shark vs the universe
oozey mess
Alisa U Zemlji Chuda
Product Placement
cherry valley forever
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
seen from India
seen from Greece
seen from United States
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Türkiye
seen from Poland
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Germany
seen from Malaysia
@razzberrimango
what if you sat in my lap and we made out all sloppy and you needed to pee really badly and I started jerking you off to help you distract yourself but you couldn't hold it and kept letting out little spurts of piss all over my hand and made everything even wetter and both of us hornier
I used to use an eyedropper or medicine syringe to make my barbies piss themselves and then would hide the wet barbie clothes in case anyone found them and questioned it. I think where I’ve ended up since then is just a natural progression.
there’s actually no better feeling than involuntary release of my full bladder. my muscles desperately clenching, quivering and aching. but piss is hissing out of me no matter how hard I try to stop it
Being so achingly full and desperate with your bladder hard as a rock, unable to stop squirming and panting, if you move your hands from holding you will lose it. So your partner lifts the water up to your lips, tilts your head back and asks you to drink more.
Am I just too omo-brained, or is it crazy that vanilla people can pee in the shower and feel totally normal about it?
What possible reasons do you have for feeling hot pee run down your legs, or watch a stream messily hit a tiled floor? What vanilla explanation do you have for feeling splashes on the top of your feet, and not being able to tell for certain how much of it is water from the shower, and how much is your own piss?
How can you stand there, way too upright and not on a toilet to be peeing, do it anyways, and not feel a little turned on about it? :D
lol guy friend was over today and he gets embarrassed when other people know he needs to pee. so, naturally, when he asks if anyone is in the bathroom (i live with family) i dramatically bang on the bathroom door then let him stand there awkwardly before walking in. [honestly i didnt even mean to embarrass him..at First. i just thought it was silly he didnt want to knock] as i walked away i even heard two family members that were muttering downstairs go "what was that noise??? oh its just [friend]". silly things like being perverted AND annoying about boys peeing is the reason i was put on this earth.
having to ask for permission to pee is romantic
being super Dom leaning but occasionally sub is So Gah bc it makes being submissive Extra Vulnerable to me idk like 🥹 wow im just getting really emotional over wanting a girl to tell me im good rn
love how many different aspects of piss people are into. the dynamic it creates in a bathroom control scenario, the sensation of holding and releasing, the whines and squirminess. hell, being defiled with it or claimed with it, or the thrill of going somewhere you normally wouldn’t. humiliation and degradation, voluntary/involuntary loss of control, relief, objectification. it’s infinitely interesting to me
shameless repost of my chart. If you will pls consult the charte.,
wow this is fucking beautiful
Cleansing Flame
A name on the community organizing screen stopped my casual scrolling– Weston Meers. Holy shit. I clicked his name, and with a little bit of stalking, found out he had come out as gay years ago. That’s what he was doing in the queer meetup group, apparently.
Why was any of that significant? I bullied him in middle school. Not so much the scary “take your lunch money and shove you in a locker” -type bullying, but teased him over a decently long term for the fact that on a few occasions, he had wet his pants.
The memory came rushing back at me upon seeing his name. I didn’t process it at the time, but the reason I bullied him was because in no world could I have accepted the risk of being nice to him after that. Equally as important was my understanding that liking boys, and specifically liking watching boys hold their pee (and lose it!) was unfathomable depravity. Pants-peeing was for babies– gross, funny at best, and for those not already invincible in their coolness, social suicide. No one could know. No one could be allowed to even suspect that I believed differently. And so even though I thought Weston was perfectly likable, cute, and even my crush ever since his first accident, I started calling him “Wet-son” and performed my obligation of making his class hours hell until we went to separate high schools and never saw each other again.
The wetting was all I remembered at first, and now I had a separate realization that he was also gay, for real. Of course he got homophobic comments along with the pee stuff. Many gave as well as they took in that respect, and no one who had a problem with it at first was listened to. It turned out they were wise, or we were stupid.
Ten years later, now I was left to grapple with all that came with his name appearing in the “Going” column of the LGBT+ bonfire night. I had wanted to go, but if he was going to be there, perhaps I shouldn’t.
No. Part of the reason for going to queer-focused events was to be accepted. Everyone had flaws, big ones even, but mutual love and understanding were the only way forward. I did not want Weston’s forgiveness. Deep down I wanted him not to show. Deeper down I just wanted to apologize. I put on my band-T, mildly tattered flannel over it, skinny jeans with a rainbow belt that I never believed I’d deserve to wear, did my eyeliner (even though it would be dark) and committed to the evening.
It was dusk when I arrived at the campground where the fire was being held. Some organizers were already hard at work unloading snacks and drinks. I felt ridiculous being so nervous, even if it were expected of someone fairly new to being visibly “out.” I actually delighted in strangers’ judgment the last few years. Good or bad, it meant they saw me, and not the paper doll I thought they wanted to see. The nerves were from anticipating the one person’s judgment I knew would be for my actions, not looks.
I took a spiked seltzer, exchanged smiles with a few strangers and acquaintances, and sat down by the firepit. As the stars came out and the drinks flowed, the fire grew to a welcoming embrace. In spite of myself I started to relax.
On my way back to the cooler, I saw him. The anxiety hit me like a cold plunge. He must have recognized me too, as his brow twitched when we made eye contact. His eyes were as gentle as I remembered, reaching me from a more chiseled face. “Weston?” I said. He turned away.
I sighed. Not believing myself, I pursued. “Hey,” I said, keeping my voice low to avoid causing a scene, “It’s Jace. I know I treated you like dogshit in school and needed you to know I’m sorry. That’s it.”
He actually stopped and turned around, his posture that of a dog unsure of whether he was going to be beaten. “You mean it?”
“Yes,” I said, taking another step forward for emphasis, “It’s all I’ve thought about this whole time. I was scared and stupid, and you didn’t deserve that. At all. We don’t have to hang out tonight but I’m just glad I got to say so in person.” The confession raced out of me as if under pressure.
He stood silent, letting my words percolate. “I appreciate your saying so,” he replied, the barest hint of a grin darkening his cheek in the firelight, “‘Wet-son’ was pretty fuckin’ funny though.”
I let out a chuckle more in astonishment than anything. Was he rubbing in my shame right now, or what? “I just said that to hurt you and score points with my douchebag friends.”
His grin turned into a full, genuine smile, looking only mildly devilish in the orange glow. He gestured towards the fire. We dragged our chairs a distance away from the others. They must have thought we were hitting it off. Weston agreed, “It hurt a little at the time because I was scared and stupid too. But while you’re being nice to me, can I tell you a secret? He scooted closer to me and cupped his hands to my ear, giving me goosebumps. “I peed my pants on purpose.”
I stared at him, jaw hanging open. At least I didn’t laugh or tease him this time. Back in the day, I might have found that admission devastating. As if it would have made a difference compared to having accidents. “May I ask why?”
“Stop me if this is TMI,” he said, “But we’re both at a gay event so I feel like it’s probably okay.” We were out of earshot of others already, but I still leaned close for him to tell another secret. “I just liked it. I guess the first time it happened in school was an actual accident, but all the rest of the times it felt good. And believe it or not, the teasing was actually kind of part of it. Like I got to be the center of attention until I went to the nurse. I could apologize to you guys for including you all in my kink.”
“Bro,” I said, entirely out of character for myself, “That’s actually pretty hot.” It must have been the drinks talking when I said, “Believe it or not I’m actually into it too. And as you probably guessed, more than a little bit gay myself. Half the reason I made such a big deal of it back then was because it made me feel things.”
His lower lip curled. “I made Jace Proctor feel things.”
He had earned the shot or two at me and more. “Yes, you did,” I yielded, holding my arms out in surrender, “I had a crush on you. Kind of still do.”
“You’re drunk,” he said, chuckling, “No one else apologizes to their bully magnet and then flirts with them.”
“I’m not that drunk,” I said, suddenly self-conscious of my buzz, “I’ve had… a few. Enough to make me have to pee, since you might like to know.”
“I do like to know,” he replied. “You said you’re into ‘it,’ talking about me. You ever partake yourself?”
“You’re asking if I’ve peed myself on purpose?” I clarified, stalling for time.
He nodded. “Or had an accident and liked it.”
The momentum of the conversation had been so fast and inexorable I just told the truth. “Yeah.”
“You’re fucking with me,” he said, never losing his grin. Maybe part of him believed I was, but I think he knew in the way I said it that it was real.
“I swear I’m not,” I said anyway, “I’ve been into it since before I ever saw you do it. And you looked so fucking cute being all shy in your wet pants. I’m serious.”
“Well you got to see me wet a few times,” he said, “But I’ve never seen you wet, so I’m not sure I believe you.”
I did not know why I was flirting with him– the alcohol, the temptation of his good graces, my old crush, the thrill of the chase– but I persisted. “What, you want me to pee myself right here?”
He clamped his hand over his mouth in stifling his laughter. “Aah, I almost peed first. But yes. If I see you pee yourself before saying goodbye to everyone, I’m willing to call us even.”
“Wait, do you have to go too?” I said, calling out his comment with the hope of stalling yet again. “A little,” he said, suddenly making a show out of kneading his crotch for me, “But this is your moment.”
I tapped the armrest of my chair. “I have no idea whose chair this is, I’m not gonna pee in it.” That much was true also.
He shrugged. “So go standing up. It’s better that way anyway. But I bet you know that.”
I rubbed the bridge of my nose. “Yeah it is.” The seltzers I had been drinking swirled in my bladder at the thought of letting it out. “I dunno though, I’m not sure I’m drunk enough to wet myself in front of people. Even as penance.”
“It’s honestly okay if you don’t want to,” he reassured. On some level that answer disappointed me. “But… I do recall hearing you say you still had a crush on me.”
“Yep,” I said. No sense trying to weasel out of it now. “What does that have to do with anything?” “Would you do it for a kiss?”
My face burned, and not because I was too close to the fire. “You serious?” I said, catching myself shortly after at how harsh that sounded. “I mean would you really want that?”
“I dunno,” he said, bringing his shoulders up around his ears like he did all that time ago, “I’d try it.”
My pulse thudded in my ears. The foregone conclusion loomed large. “I wanna do it.”
He drew his feet out of his sandals to sit cross-legged in the camp chair, and wiggled his hips in anticipation. “I’m waiting.”
I had not worn sandals, but cold feet struck me. “...I can’t do it here,” I said, my expression falling, “It would be too obvious.”
He chewed his lip in thought. “On the way to the bathroom then?” he posited, “Then you have an excuse.”
“Fuck,” I said, laughing at myself, “I’m not getting out of this am I.”
He shook his head, adorable curls bouncing as they always had.
“Okay,” I breathed, mostly to myself, “I’m going to have one more drink and then get up to go. You come with me, and I’ll let it out on the way there.”
He grinned with something between childish glee and sinister victory, but reassured me again. “Just so you know you really don’t have to if you don’t want.” He was being too damn sweet for his own good. Or maybe he knew I would not chicken out now.
“A little more liquid courage, and regular old liquid, and it’ll be easier.” I got up for my last drink. The need to pee hit me harder once I was standing. I actually felt the need to squeeze my crotch here and there as the urine pried at my bladder. At one point I would have denied that being desperate to pee, and even scared to wet, was a universal human experience. In trying to be smart I was dumber than I had to be. And now, in the midst of doing something dumb, I felt like my inner child needed to see this.
Having returned to his side, I sipped my drink (a bit more slowly than necessary) and ceremoniously crushed the can. “To my doom,” I said.
Weston twisted towards the restrooms– a cement-block shack with a pair of floodlights over the doors over by the treeline. “Recycling is over there too.” He stood up and offered his hand to help me up. “No littering allowed.”
I took his hand and laughed at his obvious misdirection. I also took a moment longer than necessary to let his hand go. “I’m guessing piss doesn’t count.”
“Ugh, I’m fucking drunk too,” he said, staggering into me and nearly knocking us both over. “Don’t do that or you won’t get your wish to see me pee standing up.” We ended up clinging to each other for stability, knowing that we were both relishing the touching.
He asked me as we drew near, “You think you’re gonna make it?” He elbowed me as he said it.
I got the message; now was the time. “Ah, I don’t think so,” I said, stopping and bending forward. I let my bladder go. The previous times I had wet myself, it took a few seconds to get going. Even as he held my arm, my stream battered my zipper, burbling in my tight jeans. My groin instantly filled with heat.
Weston moved in front of me and pulled me in by the small of my back, feeling my pouring crotch with his other hand. I think he wanted to say something, but was too rapt in the moment. So was I.
“Apologies,” his singsong voice rang out, “You totally would have made it if I didn’t stop to kiss you.” Before I could answer, he stretched onto his tiptoes and touched his lips to mine.
My pee stream was still fading as he did so. “You’re getting pee on you,” I said between kisses, immediately aware of how prosaic my concerns were. He pressed our hips together harder, only saying “Yours or mine?” My stream had stopped, but the pulsing warmth continued. He had intertwined our legs and started peeing too.
I kept my eyes closed as his liquids coated my thigh. “It’s so warm,” I said, “I wish we got to do this sooner.”
He continued nibbling at my lip and pushing the last spurts out. “I did do this sooner. You could have joined.” I sighed again, nestling my head into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”
“I know,” he said, stroking the nape of my neck, “It’s okay.”
The two of us together were a sopping, pissy mess. We gave clipped goodbyes in the dark to those nearest us on the way to the parking lot. We stopped between our cars, holding both hands rather than part. I had never dared imagine getting to touch Weston so tenderly as he was drenched and smelling of pee, or that he would want to touch me while I did too.
“I, uh, didn’t think this far ahead,” I said, shaking a few drops from my legs.
“Hang on,” he said, quickly making for his car. He pulled a towel out of the trunk. “I don’t need it, I do this all the time.”
“That’s hot,” I said, carelessly letting another dribble go in my pants, “I guess I’ll have to see you again to give it back.”
“I guess so.”
We parted after one more very wet kiss. Whether or not that night had been a dream, it did plenty to knock me out of my painful past, and revel in the euphoria of the present.
one hand is holding a cigarette, the other hand is holding in my pee 🚬
guy who needs to piss sooo bad he’s been grabbing at himself and squeezing his dick, and now it’s half hard, stuck upright in his pants, sensitive head just under his waistband, and every time he squirms it feels like he’s dry humping, and he doesn’t even know anymore if he’s grinding in his pants because he needs to go or because he’s started getting off. is this anything
oh my fgod im wettijng mysf it all came out so fast fuck og my god i just peed everywhere oh my god
i was trying so hard to keep it in and i was doing so well i thought I had several minutes before i started LEAKING again but i squeezed as tight as i could and it just fucking emptied all at once and I was squeezing so tight so it sprayed out all over my legs and around me :0
When men whimper or make little noises while struggling to hold it>>>>>>
It's scary to be transgender in the world right now but if you're transgender I love you and we have to stick together and keep fighting and keep living and keep loving
I LOVE VERBAL OMORASHI, LIKE- YES PLEASE KEEP THAT HIGH PITCHED TONE WHILE YOU'RE SAYING YOU'RE HAVING AN ACCIDENT AND THAT YOU CAN'T HOLD IT, APOLOGIZE, ALL OF IT DAMNNNN I FREAKING LOVE VERBAL OMO
is piss still semi niche... are there people larping having a piss kink???? is there a chance in 2026 that im gonna meet someone who likes pee preformatively
