Over the following days I thought about Maria a lot. I couldn’t stop the feelings of longing she had spurred in me. Maybe it was because she was the first woman I’d had sex with in over two years, even if it had only been oral sex. Not that oral sex isn’t one of my favorite things - I like giving more than receiving - but I had been left with a sense of incompleteness, of unfinished business.

My longing for her was particularly pronounced at night. Lying alone in bed, stroking myself, I thought a few times of her parting offer, but it just seemed too weird, even though I had started drinking my pee sometimes when I felt like masturbating and it had been arousing.

No, I really didn’t want to meet her husband; it would be too embarrassing, knowing that he would know what Maria and I had done together. Besides, who knew what toll I might have to pay him to be allowed to be with Maria again? From what she had told me, it sounded like he was not only kinky, but controlling.

No thank you, I thought, I’ll just have to be satisfied with the memory of her. But then something happened that changed my mind.

One day at work, I was on the phone with an important customer when the need to pee became really urgent. I tried to wrap up the call, but the customer had another issue to discuss. So by the time I was able to go to the bathroom, I had already leaked quite a bit of urine in my pants. It’s not an unpleasant feeling, by the way, and thanks to Maria, I had learned to rather enjoy it, my cock and balls swathed in warmth, the weight of the wet material massaging my genitals as I walked down the hall towards the bathroom. There was still more urine in my bladder to get rid of.

It felt like I had a secret, a secret pleasure, my semi-hard cock tingling in the clinging warmth, as I passed people in the hall. What if they knew how sexy it felt to be carrying a load of piss...

I work in a multi-story office building with bathrooms on every floor and so, to avoid attention of my frequent toilet use, I had developed a habit of using the bathrooms on different floors throughout the day. I headed down to the 14th floor that housed the call center, where mostly women worked.

One thing about these pull-up briefs I wear is that you have to pull them down, which entails opening your trousers and trying not to let them drop while you pull your cock over the waistband of the underwear. For this reason, I usually go into a toilet stall for privacy rather than use a urinal. But, this being the 14th floor, I didn’t bother.

I entered the silence of the empty men’s room and took the first of the two side-by-side urinals, I opened my pants, and I tugged out my soft, damp cock. The briefs are very absorbent, of course, and they also keep odors locked away from detection. But when you pull them down to release your cock, the odors inside are also released, certainly obvious to the person wearing them, whose nose is directly above the opening.

I inhaled the scent, so deliciously enticing to me now, as I relaxed to let my urine flow into the urinal. Just as my paltry stream began to tinkle onto the hard porcelain, I heard the door open and another man walked up to urinal beside me.

He was a light-brown-skinned man of almost my height, probably 5’10”, but considerably younger and thinner than I. I glanced over as he unzipped and pulled out a prodigious hose of a cock. It must have been at least nine inches long although it was completely flaccid. I managed to finish my little trickle before he started to go.

Suddenly the room was filled with the roar of a rushing torrent as a thick, strong stream of piss slammed into the urinal, splashing and swirling vigorously around the drain that tried vainly to keep up with its volume. “Ahhhh,” my companion sighed contentedly his stream went on, seemingly endlessly.

Wow, was I impressed! I couldn’t help watching him pee as I tucked myself back in and pulled up my pants. Our eyes met as his torrent finally came to a halt. He smiled and turned a little towards me as he shook his enormous cock.

I watched, mesmerized at the falling of the last drops from the lip of the brown foreskin that so tightly covered the big, red head of his cock almost to the tip where the open piss-slit seemed to wink at me.

“Feels so good!” he said in a thick Hispanic accent, smiling at me proudly.

All I could think was, I wonder how it tastes.

Nothing further occurred between us. We both washed up and went back to our respective desks, he, presumably, to the Spanish language section of the call center, and I back upstairs, realizing all the while, that if he had offered me a drink from his cock, I would have had no will to refuse.

That afternoon, I called Maria.

“Oh, Steve! It’s so good to hear from you. I was hoping you might call sometime. I miss you.”

I was surprised by that. Maria was always surprising me. “It’s only been a couple of weeks,” I said defensively, “not even.” Why did I feel guilty? I had made no promises.

“Do you want to come and meet Jim?” I could hear the smile in her voice. And something else: was it just happiness, or was it also triumph?

“Yes, please,” I said, and then, trying to erase the obsequiousness I thought I might have conveyed, I added, “I want to see you. So that means I have to meet him too.”

Good job overexplaining, I thought. Truth was, I was curious. I was also feeling a thrill of both fear and desire at the thought of meeting her dominant husband.

“Good! I’m so pleased!” She really did sound pleased. Like the cat with a canary, I thought. “Can you come over tomorrow at six?”