My wife’s name is Anna. She’s a research engineer, genetics. I’m an artist. A commercial artist, not one of those alcoholic, sex on a giant canvas types. Though that does sound kind of fun. Anna and I have kids, a house that’s aging, and incredibly demanding deadlines both in day jobs and family business.

After our last baby was born – God, I hope it’s the last – we stopped having sex. Completely. Anna said she felt used up, just a machine for feeding children. I researched this, and it seems to be common enough during breast feeding, hormone levels bottoming out in places, eradicating sex drive. And I’m no creep, so there wasn’t a chance I was going to try to make her feel responsible for this.

For ten months, it was me and Rosy Palm. Twice a day. And this was critical, because, well, I’m getting older, and I was getting shots once a week to keep my testosterone up and had to jerk off to keep my prostate from becoming a grapefruit. And oh man, that testosterone got high (still is). I wanted to fuck constantly (still do). I could get it up naked in a snow storm and cum my way out of an avalanche.

Anna felt bad about it. Because I was feeling low and lonely, and no matter how much I told her I just wanted intimacy – anything, doesn’t have to be sex – the average output (from both of us) was a few seconds of sexy kissing (sometimes more if the timing allowed). If I was really in a bad place, she’d let me sniff and/or taste her pussy sometimes while I rubbed one out, but that was rare. In six months, it happened three times. We did try intercourse a few times, but it was too painful for her. I kept trying to tell her, it’s not her job to keep me satisfied, but in my own head, I was like, yes I believe this but how am I going to keep from obsessing about sex all day?

I don’t think I’m being dramatic when I say that, if not for a wonderful family, I would have fucked anyone with a pussy. I was checking out women in the grocery store, women in the sidewalk, everyone at Starbucks (maybe including a dude or two – desperate is desperate).

I became crazy attracted to women that are full-figured, mothers especially. Porn was all about big, curvy, thick, hairy, natural MILFs, and preferably it was homemade because my dick shrivels at that forced, over-athletic thrusting and shrieking. I wanted to see real people fucking. I wanted to see real women fucking that are as close to my wife as possible.

But then the porn wasn’t working. I had to jerk it at least once a day, and it was taking almost an hour. When I’m staying up late because I’m too horny to sleep, or sneaking into bathrooms to get it done away from the family, an hour is way too long.

That’s when I started getting more adventurous. I’d been fascinated with squirting for a very long time, as the visual equivalent to male ejaculation. It was something I could see, and I would be able to feel a sympathetic reaction of my own. But a lot of squirt videos are violent, more about spraying squirt everywhere than about watching a woman have a legitimate orgasm. Frustrated as I was with the over dramatization of squirting, I discovered that I was enthralled by the calm, relaxed liberation of women peeing.

To be honest, this wasn’t the first time I knew I had a fetish. I can remember one very drunk night that Anna and I were on vacation, showering together, and I asked her to pee in my hand. She graciously agreed, letting that warm golden liquid pour into my palm while I stroked off. She even turned around, at my request, to let me pee on her asshole, but I hadn’t yet figured out how to piss through an erection. I don’t even remember the sex afterward, but the peeing has stayed with me for years.

My fantasies centered around that. Less about peeing on someone (unless to reciprocate), but more being peed on. As if the woman is peeing more to get herself off than to get me off. I watched every video I could find of a woman pissing on a man, especially in a man’s mouth, especially if he swallowed. I reveled when he licked her clean. But crazy as this sounds, I started having a hard time finding those videos. I’d watched them all.

Meanwhile, I was letting Anna know how long it was taking me to get off. And she knew that I was developing a pee fetish – though I doubt she knew how strongly. She would Escort Ankara invite me into the bathroom with her while my cock was out and encourage me to kneel in front of her and feel the piss on my hand streaming out of her. She would even let me feel moistness afterward, let me rub around her clit and labia until I became too self-conscious to continue.

One time that she let me touch her stream, I was feeling particularly brave. I asked her not to wipe, to let me clean her up with my mouth. She was fairly put off, I could tell, but I wanted it too badly to be embarrassed. So even though she insisted on wiping it just a bit to keep from dripping, she did humor me and laid on the carpet so that I could lick her clean while I jerked off. I’d tasted my own piss before, did a shoulder stand in our tub and pissed in my mouth, just to be sure the taste wouldn’t disgust me. It was fine, salty, warm, a little musty. But I’ll tell you this: Anna was so much sweeter. Her piss was full of pheromones and sugar from the juice she drinks all day. My cock erupted after only a few minutes as I lay between her spread thighs, lapping her up.

So as my porn options seemed to be drying out, pun intended, I switched to .com. The wealth of golden shower stories available there seems to hit the spot. Sex is such a mental process for me anyhow, and re-reading a story is sometimes as good as reading it for the first time, allowing for all sorts of imagined variations, different paced reading, etc.

But I was still feeling this itch that wasn’t being scratched. And I don’t mean the sex. I mean in every way, I couldn’t stop thinking about the smell and taste of Anna’s urine, of the way her pussy felt under the weight of my lips, the feel of her musky fuzz rubbing my nose. Of the temping rosebud of a her puckered anus waiting for my tongue to slip down and collect the runoff. Of the slight embarrassment she seemed to have as she watched me get off on her liquid.

So one evening, I found the right story, the perfect pee story, the one in which the characters did all the things I was dying to do with Anna. And I asked her to read it. She likes literary pornography. In fact, when we started dating, I think all of her porn was literary.

She read it. Patiently, clearing her throat at intervals, and I sat in the chair next to her, pretending to look at my phone when I was dying for any outward reaction to the words on the screen. My cock leaked pre-cum just thinking about it, pooling and cooling in my boxer briefs against the underside of my cock. Was she imagining that she was in the story? Was she getting wet?

When she put her phone down, she smiled and said, “Yeah. It was… interesting.”

Wincing I said, “Did it turn you on at all?”

Her response. “Well, I want to be supportive.”

Face flaming red, I pointed at her phone and said, “This is what I want for my birthday this year. I’m serious.”

Her smile was bland. “I don’t know that I’m ready for something like that.”

And so time went by, and I didn’t bring it up, and neither did she. I jerked off in dark, in the middle of the night, imagining Anna sitting on my face, pissing in my mouth with a moan as I sucked her down and licked at her clit. In my fantasies, she usually pees once more, just as I’m coming. Sometimes she’s the one giving me a hand job as she does it.

Three months later, it’s my birthday. We go through the day, and other than giving me a little alone time and a nice card, it’s like any other. It’s on a Sunday, too, so that night I have to get all the trash out to the curb before heading upstairs.

I close our bedroom door and let Anna know I’ve brought her a glass of water, I round the corner into the bathroom.

Anna is standing in the middle of the room, floor mats moved, old towels on the floor. Her massive breasts are hanging through holes in a white lacy bra, and droplets of milk have appeared on each nipple. My eyes track down the curve of her soft, silky belly and land firmly on her trimmed bush, completely exposed through the parted lace of her white panties. The fabric disappears between her thighs and vulva.

“Happy birthday,” she says , biting her lip.

My jaw drops. “Are you fucking serious?” I ask, pointing at the towels.

“You didn’t Ankara Escort Bayan notice I’ve been pounding water all day?” She pulls the panties off unceremoniously.

“Jesus Christ.”

“No intercourse, though. Okay? It still hurts a bit.”

“Deal.” I haul my gym shorts down, erection climbing rapidly into the air. My shirt is off in seconds. I nearly knock over a tray of baby bottles.

“If you don’t settle down, I’ll never be able to get any out,” she said. I consciously slow myself down, but my hands are shaking. “Suck on my tits. Taste my milk first.”

I have a seat on the edge of our bathtub, and she shoves one fifteen pound tit in my face. I start licking, flicking the tip with my tongue to taste the sweetness of her milk, then glide around the areola before pulling her nipple into my mouth. She doesn’t moan, but I can hear her breathing. My hands kneed her breast, fingertips sweeping around her other nipple before pulling her closer, and her sweet milk collects in my mouth. I clutch her soft, supple apple bottom, spread her ass cheeks to run a finger down to her anus. I swallow. When my fingers encounter the hard protrusion of a butt plug, my own pre-cum drips onto my foot.

“Jesus Christ,” I say, backing off her tit.

“We’ll see,” says Anna with a smile. “Help me take it out?” She turns around to expose her luscious backside to me, and she bends over and separates her feet. I take in the jeweled hilt of the butt plug hovering over the dark, glistening folds of her vagina. She smells of strongly of feminine musk, but I can also smell soap. I glance to the side of the tub, noting the washcloth and the enema bottle. Fuck I love this woman.

“Push baby,” I say as my fingers pinch the jewel.

“Okay, but not much. I have to pee like crazy.” She reaches over and rubs the pre-cum around the underside of my cock while I work the handle sticking out of her ass. Her pucker opens slightly, and I pull the plug the rest of the way out. I can’t help it. Feeling secure at the scent of soap and sight of the enema, I smell the butt plug and then place it in my mouth, letting the warmth that was Anna’s anus mix with my saliva.

“You’re a dirty fucker,” she says with an impish grin. “Now get on the floor before I start leaking everywhere.”

Laying down in the middle of the towels, butt plug forgotten, my cock throbs. I give it a yank before I focus on getting Anna into position over my face, but it’s only a moment or two before she has my cock in her hand stroking absently. I can feel my perineum flex hard enough to crush a walnut.

As she rocks back, I get the full brunt of my wife’s pussy in my face. Her petalled labia are tacky with moisture as they brush my lips. I take in the sight of her clit thrusting out of its hood, and of the hole of her urethra. I shove my nose into the parting of her vagina, and I inhale deeply, all musk and that unique smell that I know is Anna. I move my nose up to sniff her anus, and I let my tongue out onto her pucker.

She gives a shudder, but growls, “Get your mouth on my pee hole! And if you spill a drop, we are never, NEVER doing this again! Oh my God! Here it comes!”

Her hand stops moving on my cock and she sits slightly upright, her knees shifting against my shoulders. My mouth moves against her pussy, and I fight to make a tight seal where I know her urethra is. She breathes out, blowing air slowly through her lips. Down below, my tongue flutters against her clit.

“Knock it off!” she whispers. “I can’t relax with you doing that.”

So I stop. And I wait.

Her back arches, and my cock throbs, and my tongue aches. I can feel my mouth watering as her muscles around her groin shift. She breathes again.

Silence. While my entire body hums like high voltage wire.

Then I taste it. Just a drop. A salty sweet drop warm on the middle of my tongue. But I don’t move. Anna sighs deeply, her sigh turning into a moan as I feel the liquid fill my mouth. More of the same, the warm, the salty sweet. It’s acrid and sharp and musky, the scent reaching my nose through the back of my throat as I breathe.

And I’m swallowing. My beautiful, glorious wife is pissing in my mouth, and I’m swallowing her nectar. She moans with release, and I moan in ecstasy.

Her Ankara Escort mouth finds my cock as her pee flows into my mouth. I don’t know how she’s doing it. Her piss stream is always so forceful, but this is gentle. She’s doing it for me, trying to last as long as she can.

Seconds tick by and I swallow. And I swallow again as she mouth-fucks my cock, her hand wrapping my balls, a fingertip poking in and out of my asshole, pee flowing out of her all the while. Then I let my tongue flick her clit, washing her piss against her most sensitive nub inside my mouth, and she moans forcefully this time, her stream gaining in momentary intensity. Switching my cock to her hand, she says breathily, “I want to hear it. I want to hear my piss hitting your mouth.”

Forgetting what she said about spilling, I open my mouth as she lifts her ass. Her stream fills my mouth and puddles and overflows, her gold liquid pouring down my cheeks, down my ears, and into my hair. “Oh fuck,” she moans, reaching between her legs to rub her clit.

The stream stops suddenly, and I swallow the puddle in my mouth.

“My asshole,” she says. “Lick my asshole while I finish peeing.” By now, I’m stroking my manhood like mad, my insides bucking like a horse.

Anna lowers her anus to my tongue, and I press the tip inside, rim along the wrinkled edge, dart my tongue in and out as it stretches and collapses with each small thrust. My wife’s piss starts flowing again. Her fingertips splashing her juice over my chin and neck as she reaches between her legs again and gets herself off.

“I’m gonna’ cum!” I roar, forcefully pulling her pussy and her piss flow back into my mouth.

“Yes!” she whisper shouts, knocking my hand aside. “Yes, fucking cum in my mouth while I’m pissing in yours!” Anna’s mouth drops onto my rod, and her head bobs like mad. My insides curl up, buckets of semen building deep below my shaft as a jet of her piss shoots down my throat. I swallow and lap at her pussy as my balls explode into her mouth. Anna keeps bobbing, and my cock keeps throbbing, cum spurting forth in waves.

I can feel the vacuum pressure of her swallow and my climax abates. She lifts her head and grinds her pussy into my face.

“Did you like that?”

Muffled, “Mmhmm!”

“Yeah, I know. Because you’re a dirty mother fucker. And I fucking love it dirty.” She lifts her ass off my mouth. “You mind if I turn around?”

“I don’t mind if you drive our car through the living room after that.”

Anna chuckles, standing. I gaze up at her glorious curving body. Milk is leaking from her nipples and dribbling down her belly.

“You’re so fucking hot,” I say.

She grins that sparkling intoxicating grin, and my eyes glue to her damp pussy as she changes position to lower herself back onto my mouth. “Lick my asshole again,” she says, squatting over me.

And my tongue drives hard and slick around her anus as she makes circles over her clit. “Yeah,” she whispers. “Like that. Like that.” Her musk is stronger now, mixed with the scent of her pee and slick vagina. I feel like I might get hard again.

When she rocks forward to return to her knees, it only takes her a moment to settle once more before I’m slobbering on her cunt. Anna rubs her tits, pinching her nipples. She moans when I shove a finger into her asshole.

Twisting her body, she grabs my flaccid dick. “Can you do it? Can you pee for me?”

“I’m fucking gonna’ try,” I hiss into her pussy.

So I keep licking and rubbing the ring of her asshole while I allow my lower half to relax. In moments, I can feel my pee bubbling up from my shaft. Though I can’t see it, I know it’s flowing down over Anna’s hands.

“Oh fuck,” she says. “Oh fuck that’s hot. I’m gonna’ cum.” She starts shaking. “I’m gonna cum.”

She grinds hard, lifts her pussy suddenly and quakes. My piss shoots out of my cock, hardening by the second as Anna’s orgasm overtakes her body.

By the time the pee has finished leaking out of me, I’m fully erect again. I look up at my wife. “Don’t worry,” I say. “I don’t expect a second round.”

“Probably for the best,” she says, catching her breath. “But maybe for Father’s Day.”

With a kiss on the thigh and a slap on the ass, I tell her I’ll get the laundry started and that she’s welcome to the shower first.

Though pee play in our home is rare, especially given the mess (though not much of one, I rarely spill), Anna still humors me from time to time. And since that first day, I’ve never feared getting a year older. That’s for sure.