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Trapped in a state of constant arousal and urinary distress, a lonely man finds himself tied up, his bladder painfully full. His fingers twitch, aching to unzip his pants and unleash the torrent, but his tormentor has other plans. As he grinds his hips, seeking some friction, his underwear becomes a sodden mess, the fabric clinging to his skin. His whimpers fill the room, a symphony of desperate need. At last, with a guttural groan, he surrenders to the inevitable, his pants becoming a makeshift urinal, the warm piss soaking through, a testament to his relieved, yet still hungry, body.