You? You can’t help but start to rub yourself through your jeans. It’s the most erotic sight you’ve ever seen, me undone completely in a puddle of my own piss, my jeans damp, my knickers soaked through. You’re so aroused you know you’ll cum if you keep touching but you can’t help it anyway

I’m so deeply scarlet that my face matches my hair. The pee seems to go on forever, thundering out of me and puddling on the floor. I’m grabbing onto the bar for support as though it’s taken away my ability to stand upright, like a strong orgasm.

All of a sudden, my eyes spring open. “Oh fuck it’s coming out! I’m so sorry I can’t hold it!” I wail. I’m scrabbling at my jeans, unzipping them, tugging them down (red panties beneath, you notice, satin), half-bent over, half-crouching, as a loud hissing announces my failure to hold.

“God,” I’m moaning softly to myself, “God I have to pee so bad!”

Every muscle in my face is set tight. My eyes shut. There is clearly only one thing on my mind and that is not wetting my pants in front of you.

TEN MINUTES LATER

I’m hopping from foot to foot, my hand still wedged in my crotch. You’re trying not to watch too closely. You’re very grateful that your coat a long one, and you’re not at all inclined to remove it, even though it’s quite warm.

Of course, I don’t know what that news has done to you. A throb of arousal hums through you. You try to ignore it and politely say, “I’m sure you can hold it. They won’t be long.”

My response is to push my hand into my crotch and groan.

“Don’t worry. Are you scared of lifts?” you ask me, but I shake my head hard and then blush a deep crimson.

“It’s not that! It’s just…I really have to pee! That’s why I was rushing to get in the lift in the first place!” My hands are in fists, and you notice that my thighs are pushed together.

“Oh my God!” I yelp, in genuine panic.

“It’s okay,” you say soothingly. You press the alarm button and speak to the operator, who tells you help is on its way.

“It should be here in an hour. Just sit tight,” her tinny voice says through the speakers.

You notice that I look horrified.

The elevator begins to rise, the floor numbers ticking up. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

And then we stop.

Suddenly.

The doors do not open.

We’re stuck.

Just for a second, you fantasise about kissing me, about pushing me up against the wall of the elevator, about unzipping those tight jeans and pulling them down to my thighs so you can see the wet warm secret parts of me while I moan and tremble at your touch.

But that’s just fantasy.

“oh, thank you!” I gasp. “Floor 14, please!”

You press the button and surreptitiously eye me. I look a bit dishevelled, my red hair disordered. I’m wearing skinny blue jeans so tight they’re almost obscene, and boots with an evil-looking spike heel.

NARRATOR: It was not, in fact, a little leak

ok it was only a little leak

fuck fuck fuck

Oh God it’s going to come out

God I have to pee so bad I don’t know how much longer I can hold it 🥺

Got my hand pressed against my crotch now holding it in. This is getting tough.

Okay so I’m starting to really feel it now. Muscles tense. Rocking back and forth slightly helps.

Maybe make that a 7.5 😳