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My first story, featuring a long-term m/m relationship where one partner introduces his secret bladder control kink and the other decides to humor him for their anniversary, but finds he enjoys it more than he thought. I liked playing with these characters and trying to make sure they were plausible as fem-leaning middle class millennial guys. This is an endurance story, with all the delicious drawn-out suffering that entails. I chose a hold length of 9-12 hours that would be agonizing for an untrained person, but also within the realm of reality. There is some sex in this, but it's not described as vividly as the desperation. ______ As promised, the LGBTQIA+ art history exhibit at the Newsome Gallery was unsuitable for visitors under the age of 18. “I feel like we’re the least kinky gays who ever lived,” Jack mused as he looked up at the Tom of Finland print on the wall, which depicted beefy park rangers having a four-way at a highway rest area. Jack was slender guy, just past 30. He had warm brown eyes and a debonair hairstyle with a side part. His nose was long for his face and crooked, which made him look gawky, but his smile more than made up for it in the eyes of his husband, Leo, who stood beside him. Leo was a little older, a little stouter, and a lot blonder. He had a mustache. “I see it as my mission in life to bring them back,” he would tell people with regard to the mustache, to Jack’s good-natured annoyance. “Nonsense. You can’t compare us to,” Leo gestured at the beefiest and most generously endowed park ranger, “the seventies!” “I’m not talking about the seventies. I’m talking about our friends. Bo and Tim just opened their relationship and started going to steam rooms, and they won’t shut up about it. They’re probably laughing at us behind our backs for being so vanilla. We have zero kinks put together.” “Well, I wouldn’t say zero kinks,” Leo mumbled, low, and then stopped himself. Jack turned to him, eyes wide, mouth open: “oh my God, do you have a kink?” he whispered, teasing. Leo stammered. “Oh my God, you have a kink. You totally have a kink. I can see the kinkiness in your eyes.” “It was a joke. I was kidding.” “Don’t lie to me, kinkster! What is it? Bondage, spanking, 1970s park rangers?” “Honey, we’re in public.” “Yeah, in public looking at porn.” “Did you ever think Tom of Finland helped promote unrealistic male body standards that plague the gay community to this day?” “Don’t change the subject.” They heard a yelp behind them: “Leo, it’s you! And you brought Jack!” It was Ramona, Leo’s mohawked friend from the upholstery studio where he worked. She promptly swept them up in an arty conversation about the unique ways various lesbian painters utilized space, which Jack, a CPA by trade, couldn’t quite follow. She would end up luring them to a remarkable tiny Jamaican restaurant between a boxing gym and a rail yard, where she regaled them with funny stories about her ex-girlfriend who tried to keep koi in the bathtub. The strange conversation under the Tom of Finland print receded to the back of Jack and Leo’s minds as they dug into escabeche and basked in Ramona’s boisterous energy. It was dark before they started for home. ____ As Jack was driving home along back roads that evening, something nagged at him. He turned to Leo in the passenger’s seat. “What was that kink you mentioned at the gallery? I’m still dying to know.” Silence. “Come on, just between you and me.” “I told you that was a joke.” “It doubt it. You had a weaselly look on your face.” “Uh…” “Well? Spill it, Jill. We’re married!” he couldn’t help but laugh. “I do have a kink. A secret kink. It’s my deepest, darkest secret. I let it slip. You got me,” Leo confessed. “Is this kink, whatever it is, really your deepest, darkest secret?” Jack was becoming concerned. What could this possibly be about? “Kind of.” “What is it? What on earth are you into that it’s your deepest, darkest secret?” Jack’s mind crowded with alarming possibilities. Nazi uniforms. Bugchasing. Whatever it was called when people liked car crashes. “Well…um…it’s called omorashi.” Omorashi. It sounded Japanese. What kind of depravity was Leo into that had a Japanese name? Jack didn’t want to stereotype, but when it came to fetishes, everyone knew about the Japanese. “What’s omorashi?” he asked, with increasing trepidation. “Well, it has to do with…bladder control.” “Watersports?” Watersports was Leo’s deepest, darkest secret? Really? That was one of the most basic fetishes out there. “Not really. Watersports is about, you know, pissing on people. What I like is seeing a man, a grown man, desperate to pee. Like, he has to hold his pee as long as he can for some reason, and I get to watch him, you know, try to hold it in. Sometimes just knowing he has a full bladder. Knowing he’s been holding it for a long time, or drank a lot, or both, and he’s bursting.” He paused. “I really like the squirming.” “The pee dance is your kink?” Jack tried not to sound judgmental, and in truth he wasn’t. Leo got off on seeing a guy do the pee dance. It was eccentric, certainly, even a little funny, but there were so many worse things people were into. “Basically, yes.” “Do you like to watch guys actually, you know, pee?” “If they really need to go, yeah. Last Christmas, I was in the bathroom at the airport and I could hear a guy at the next urinal, behind the partition, who maybe didn’t get to go on the plane and had a lot to drink. He…took a long time and had a strong stream and I couldn’t stop thinking about…” he trailed off. “What if they don’t make it and wet their pants? Does that ruin it for you?” “No. That can be fun, too. Wetting, I mean. I was at a straight bar in college one time with Samantha - you remember Samantha? The place was full of frat guys. It was game day and I saw…” he trailed off again. Jack could sense that it wasn’t just embarrassment that made him clam up. He couldn’t even talk about this omorashi thing without getting turned on. He had a personal spank bank full of memories of random guys he’d seen in public who needed a piss. After three years together and a year of marriage, Jack was only now finding this out. Jack was silent for a moment. “I bet you think I’m disgusting. I should have never told you,” Leo said. “No, not at all, sweetie! It’s not, like, a bad kink, unless you’re kidnapping people and forcing them to wet their pants for you in your basement or something. It’s just different. It’s different enough that I have to think about it, you know. I’m not mad at you for having a little kink,” Jack replied. “You’re really not mad?” “No.” Leo visibly relaxed in his seat. “Maybe if I’d known, I wouldn’t have ducked into that smelly cubbyhole of a bathroom before I left the restaurant. Maybe I would have given you a little show on the way home.” “Really?” “Maaaaaaaybe.” Leo laughed, but there was an edge to it. Anxiety, or desire. Later that night, Leo overcame his embarrassment enough to show Jack some videos. They were cell phone videos of men in nondescript apartments, testing the limits of their bladders and then wetting their underwear. Jack observed how much Leo’s eyes focused on the stuff before the actual pissing. He got off on seeing guys do the pee dance, all right. “It’s slim pickings if you’re into male desperation more than female. If you want to see women wet their pants, there’s a big studio in Japan that makes professional videos. Japanese businessmen love nothing better than seeing a 25-year-old actress wet a schoolgirl uniform,” Leo said. “How did you even find this?” “I’ve…always liked it, since I was a kid. Since before I knew what it was.” “Wow.” “I know, I know.” “Can I ask you something?” “Okay.” “Remember the time when we were first dating and we went to Vegas? I drank a ton of coke because it was hot, remember? And when we got out on the interstate and I had to pee really bad and there wasn’t a rest stop for miles?” “Yeah,” Leo averted his eyes and blushed bright red. “I had to take a risk and piss on the side of the road while you watched for the highway patrol…” “Yeah.” “And when we got to the hotel you were so horny you practically tackled me? And we almost missed Alexis Mateo? Was that because…” “…Yeah.” “I had no idea.” “I’m sorry. I wasn’t about to turn to you in the car and say, ‘could you hold on a little longer? Your awkward situation is really getting my motor running.’ I was so embarrassed.” “I forgive you.” “Thanks for being understanding.” “Would you like it if I held my pee for you sometime? On purpose?” “You would do that?” “It’s not a problem for me. Our anniversary is in a few days, after all. It’ll be like an anniversary present.” An anniversary present for $0.00. Jack felt like a genius. “That would be,” Leo swallowed hard, “incredible. Just incredible.” “Is there any particular fantasy you have for me and my, um, bladder?” Leo’s eyes lit up. _______ Leo made a note of the time. It was 8:29 on the morning of their anniversary when Jack finished his before-work pee. Well, this is the last time I’m allowed to go before I get home from work, he thought. He’d had a cup of coffee and an 8 oz. glass of orange juice with toast for breakfast. He hoped that fluid had had time to make it through him in the past 45 minutes. Leo wanted him to hold it all day at work, drinking the normal amount of fluids, and come home to him with a nice full bladder. The time aspect seemed to excite him. “Just thinking about you slowly getting desperate at work, having to act professional when you’ve been holding it for hours and hours, not being able to sit still at your desk,” he had rhapsodized. Leo himself would be at home all day, having rearranged his schedule at the upholstery studio. When Jack got home, he would be given permission to go to the bathroom, but only if Leo could watch. Needless to say, neither of their mothers would be hearing about this particular anniversary gift. Jack would have to say he got Leo a tie or something. “Are you sure you want to do this?” Leo asked as Jack stepped out the door in his slim fit pressed khakis, brown oxfords and belt, light blue button-down shirt, and tasteful dark blue linen sport coat. “I’m a big boy,” Jack said, kissing him goodbye, “I can hold it.” _____ TO BE CONTINUED...
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- light wetting
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