Warren and I ate dinner in strained silence, for I'd given up on trying to make conversation. My husband was far more interested in refilling his glass of Cabernet than he was in talking to me. His expression was dour, and as I regarded him, I wondered how a man could appear to age so much in just a few weeks.

It had been this way since his company had decided to lay off a significant number of employees. Warren had nothing to do with that decision; it came from higher up the corporate ladder. But he was the one who had to sit down with people he'd worked with for years, people he considered good friends, and let them know they were out of a job. Some of them grew furious at Warren, and a few broke down and cried.

I knew the guilt was eating him up inside, and on top of that, he was stressed from trying to do his job with a much smaller workforce. He'd always been lean, but I noticed he now looked gaunt. His blond hair seemed to have grayed overnight. Dark circles beneath his eyes revealed how little sleep he got, and I worried about his drinking, which had never been an issue before.

I'd done all I could think of to be supportive: I'd offered to listen, and I'd given him space. I'd tried to be affectionate and had gotten the cold shoulder in return. We'd been married almost twenty years, but this was the first time I'd ever felt such a profound distance between us. Part of me feared it wasn't simply due to his job. Maybe he was dissatisfied with his entire life. We were well into our forties, which seemed like the time for him to have a mid-life crisis. Did he no longer find me as attractive now that I had crow's feet and needed to dye my dark hair in order to hide the gray? He used to make a point to tell me I was gorgeous, but now he barely touched me.

Setting down my fork with a poise that belied my growing anxiety, I said, "I think we need to talk."

Warren took another swallow of wine before replying, "No, Daphne, we do not."

"You can't keep shutting me out! Now, I understand you're dealing with a lot at your job—"

"Do you?" he snapped. His blue eyes flashed with an anger I'd rarely seen. "I've spent the last fifteen years busting my ass to make this company thrive, and now it's all falling apart! Do you honestly think you can understand how that feels?" 

I recoiled from his venomous tone. It was true that I didn't feel the same passion for my own job; it was simply a way for me to pay the bills and save for retirement, which I hoped to take early. But I resented him implying that I couldn't at all empathize with what he was now experiencing.

My own anger got the better of me as I pushed my chair back from the table. "You know what? You're right. We don't need to talk while you're being a condescending asshole!"

Warren stood at the same time I did. "Daphne, wait." His gaze filled with pleading as he held out a hand. "You're absolutely right; I'm being an asshole. And I'm sorry."

I shook my head. "Don't apologize. Just tell me how I can help you."

He ran a hand through his hair, appearing at a loss. But then he gave me a strange smile, one that made him look both sheepish and sly. "You want to know how you can help me?" His voice dropped to a murmur, as if he were about to reveal a secret.

"Of course!" Planting my palms on the table, I eagerly leaned forward.

Warren lifted an eyebrow before folding his arms over his chest. "You can piss on me."

For a long moment, I simply stared at him. Was he joking? He had to be, I told myself. Finally, I snickered and said, "Very funny."

"I'm serious, Daphne." His smile now faded altogether. "I want you to degrade me. Take me down a notch. Punish me for being an asshole to you, and for still having a fucking job when so many of my friends don't!"

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying not to lose my patience. "You're being ridiculous, Warren. You have to let go of this guilt, okay? The layoffs weren't your fault. No one blames you for—"

"You asked how you could help me, and I told you. End of discussion." He picked up his glass and downed the rest of the wine in a few gulps. His face had once again taken on that distant look, bordering on coldness. When he started to push in his chair, I felt a panic growing within me, for I couldn't bear to spend another evening like this.

"Don't you walk away from me!" As I strode toward my husband, he watched me in obvious surprise. Had he honestly thought I wouldn't fight for him? For us? Grabbing him roughly by the chin, I allowed my nails to dig into his flesh. "You want me to piss on you? Fine! I'll do it, but only because I love you so much, you idiot!"

Warren grinned at my words, and the moment I released him, he lowered his lips to mine, giving me a fierce kiss. It was hard to stay angry when he embraced me with such longing. For weeks now, I'd ached for his touch.

"Thank you," he said softly, weaving his fingers through my hair. As our eyes locked, I could sense his anticipation building. "While I'm clearing the table and cleaning up the kitchen, I want you to get busy drinking plenty of water."

"I don't think that's necessary," I started to protest, but Warren kissed me yet again.

"Humor me," he said, flashing that same smile. "Your bladder needs to be nice and full."

A few minutes later, I stood in the kitchen, practically gulping water from a large glass, while Warren loaded the dishwasher. Despite all my bravado at the dining room table, I'd begun to feel a little nervous. "So we're really going to do this," I said. Part of me still expected him to announce that he'd been joking, after all, but another part of me knew better.

"I certainly hope we're going to do this." Warren started wiping down the countertop, appearing perfectly composed. Glancing over at me, he grinned and said, "We were pretty wild in bed when we first got married. We've done kinkier things than this."

That was debatable, I thought. "But we've never done anything so... dirty." 

"Who knows? You might like getting dirty." Drying his hands on a dishtowel, he looked at the glass I held. "Do you need more water?"

"No," I immediately responded. "I can't drink any more right now."

Warren closed the distance between us before nuzzling my neck with his lips. "And is all that water having the desired effect?"

"I mean, I could definitely pee." This was such a strange conversation to be having, even with the man who knew me better than anyone else. We'd always been comfortable around each other when it came to bodily functions, but this was on another level entirely.

He took my glass and placed it on the counter. "Would you say it's reaching the point of being an emergency?"

"No, and I don't want it to get that way, either!" My voice held a hint of indignation that didn't escape his notice, yet he only laughed before cupping his hand against the back of my head and drawing me to him for a deep, sensual kiss. I moaned while practically melting against him, and the moment he slid his fingers between my thighs to tease me through my clothing, I gave his bottom lip a gentle bite. After he broke the kiss, we were both breathing faster. "Let's do this," I told him firmly.

In the bathroom, Warren and I hurried to get undressed. Gazing at his naked frame, I saw he was already semi-erect. Aside from whatever bizarre absolution he sought from this act, he was clearly aroused by it as well.

Before climbing into the tub, he paused for a moment, letting his stare sweep over me. His eyes revealed a fierce heat that I hadn't seen in some time. "My beautiful wife!" he sighed in appreciation. "I'm one lucky man."

"Damn right you are!" I said, unable to suppress a smile. "I doubt many other wives would do this for their husbands." While Warren was clearly excited, I shared none of his arousal. The need to urinate had grown pressing, however, so I was confident I'd be able to do what he asked of me.

Once he lay almost flat on his back in the bathtub, with his knees bent a little, I took a deep breath to rally my courage. His hard cock stood at attention, seeming to invite me to lower myself upon it. I could so easily imagine how good he would feel sliding into my pussy.

But we had a more urgent matter to attend to first. I was careful stepping into the tub, gingerly placing a foot on either side of him. He gazed up at me, his face taking on that pleading look again. "So do you want me to, um, just... squat over you?" My face flushed with mild embarrassment as I spoke.

"Fuck, yes!" Warren groaned, making no effort to hide his lust.

It was an incredibly awkward and vulnerable position, hunched down with my legs spread wide and my pussy right above his chest. Again, he slid his hand between my thighs, seeking out my clitoris. I released a low moan at his touch even as my bladder ached with the need to urinate.

"Piss on me, Daphne!" he urged. "Just let go!"

I whimpered, seized by a sudden fear I wouldn't be able to relax enough. But the blatant arousal I saw in Warren's face sent a delicious shiver through me, which only intensified my urge to pee.

The moment a stream of hot piss began issuing forth, Warren withdrew his hand so it could flow onto his chest uninterrupted. I clutched the edge of the tub, moaning louder. The sensation of emptying my bladder brought about a feeling of relief that bordered on sexual. My husband was practically panting, his stare fixed on the flow of urine striking his chest and trickling down his sides.

Growing bold, I reached between my legs to pull back my mound, trying to angle the stream a little higher. I succeeded in spraying his collarbone and throat, making him gasp.

"Oh, you dirty girl!" he said with a delighted grin, "marking me with your piss!"

I was thrilled to be able to please him so, but beneath my triumph was a powerful yearning to be fucked. It astonished me to feel such arousal from this filthy act. My stream weakened to a rivulet, and then to little more than a dribble before stopping altogether. By this point, my legs were aching in protest at maintaining such an uncomfortable position. Still, I lingered where I was, giving Warren a tender smile. "Feel better?" I asked.

"Much better, my love," he whispered.

Before I could move to stand, he slid even lower in the tub, sinking down into the puddle of piss. Then he grasped my hips, easing me down, too. I ended up balancing on my knees instead of my feet, with my legs still spread. "What are you doing?"

Warren responded by pulling me down onto his face. A shriek escaped my lips as he began eagerly licking my clit, moaning from his own satisfaction. My face flushed even deeper, for I knew my pussy was still slick with urine. Yet I couldn't resist my husband's expert mouth. Grasping his hair, I held him fast while sliding my cunt back and forth over his face.

"Ah, that's it, baby!" he said in a guttural voice before swirling his tongue over my wet folds.

My grip on his hair tightened. "Yes, yes, lick my pussy clean!" I demanded. "Show me how sorry you are!"

Warren's tongue bathed every inch of my sex, building up to the moment when he wrapped his lips around my clit. I wailed from the exquisite pleasure of his sucking and licking. It felt so wrong to be getting off from his mouth while he was covered in my piss, but I realized it was undeniably hot as well.

I soon began trembling, which only caused him to double down on his efforts. His tongue was merciless against my swollen bud. All the while, he made contented noises from low in his throat, as if he would love to do this all night.

When I finally succumbed to the climax, grinding my pussy against his mouth, a little more urine trickled out of me from the force of my spasms. Again, Warren moaned, and after my contractions subsided, he resumed lapping at my folds. I shuddered in the grip of an orgasmic aftershock, still feeling utterly wild and filthy.

"Fuck me!" Warren begged through his shallow breaths. "I need to be inside you!"

I'd imagined that we would fuck in bed after taking a hot shower, but it was as if his need was infectious. Though my urine had grown cold on our skin, its smell acrid, I couldn't resist his plea. Scooting back, I positioned myself over his dick. He helped me line it up so I could effortlessly sink down, just as I'd fantasized about doing earlier. A bliss-filled moan escaped my lips while I took every inch of him.

Warren made a sound like a growl, his jaw tightening. I grinned at his raw hunger, managing to rock my hips despite the cramped arrangement of our bodies in the tub. His cock pulsed inside me, and I felt him attempt to give a hard thrust.

"Mmm, not yet!" I told him, continuing to move at a languid pace. His eyes flashed a kind of warning, but he didn't dare argue. It was only when I offered him a taunting smile that he started rubbing my clit, which was still stimulated from his mouth. "Oh, fuck!" I wailed, and now it was his turn to smile.

Yielding to his touch, I tipped forward a little, resting my weight on my knees. He braced his feet against the bottom of the tub, then began pumping his hips hard and fast. I stared down at him, suddenly the helpless one, as he drove his cock inside me over and over again.

"Look what you do to me!" he said through his teeth. "I can't get enough of your pussy!"

I let him take me with a forceful rhythm until we were both right on edge. His features, drawn taut, betrayed his desperation to come. Yet I lingered at the precipice, once again seizing control of our fuck, and of him. Our eyes locked, and though I was trembling beneath the weight of my own impending climax, I managed to flash a victorious smile. "I've certainly taken you down a notch, sweetheart! You're covered in my piss and dying to come inside my pussy!"

"Yes!" he groaned while his cock continued its relentless thrusting. "I'm yours, Daphne! Always yours..."

I came hard around him then, surrendering to one of the most intense orgasms of my life. My cries echoed off the bathroom walls, and I heard his sharp intake of breath as he tensed beneath me. With a roar, he finally reached his own release. Those spurts of semen striking my inner walls sent another wave of bliss undulating through my entire body. Even when my strongest contractions had subsided, my cunt still milked his cock, drawing a moan from his lips.

For weeks, I'd been craving Warren's cum, longing to have it fill my pussy, and I now reveled in a deep satisfaction. He caressed my skin while coming down from his climax. Our stares met, and I had to fight back tears when I saw the tenderness in his eyes. How could I have ever doubted him? 

"I love you," he whispered.

Grasping his hand, I gave it a squeeze. "I love you, too. More than anything." As I looked down at the mess we'd made, I couldn't help but giggle. "I have to admit, this was a hell of a lot of fun."

Warren raised his eyebrows, clearly delighted. "I'm thrilled you enjoyed it, baby!"

"I did, surprisingly enough. But now, you and I both need a shower." Running my fingers through his chest hair, which had been thoroughly doused in my urine, I added with a sly grin, "And if you're lucky, it'll include a golden one."