My Husband's Secret Desire: A Tale of Toilet Slavery and Scatology
It was a normal day in our cozy suburban home. The sun was shining brightly through the window, casting an ethereal glow over the breakfast dishes that I had just finished washing. As I stepped out of the kitchen with a relaxed smile on my face, something caught my eye - my husband, bound tightly to the kitchen chair. His eyes were closed, a sign of submission and anticipation. My heart skipped a beat; I knew what was coming next.
He had a cut bottle funnel clenched between his teeth, his body tense with excitement and submission. I couldn't help but feel a surge of excitement myself; this was one of his favorite kinks - toilet slavery. He had bound himself to the chair, asking for me to use him as my personal toilet. This wasn't the first time he had done this, but it still sent shivers down my spine every time.
I walked towards him slowly, admiring the way his muscles tensed under his skin as he waited for what was coming next. With a smirk, I unbound him from the chair and led him to the bathroom, where we set up our special toilet slavery station. He had cleared out the space earlier, leaving only a rubber sheet and a bottle of lubricant. I couldn't help but feel a twinge of nervousness as I watched him kneel before the toilet, his eyes never leaving mine.
He spread his legs wide, revealing his perfectly shaved balls and smooth, hairless ass. A wave of arousal washed over me; I couldn't wait to let loose on him. Kneeling behind him, I gripped his hips tightly and guided the head of my aching cock towards his tight entrance. With a gentle push, I entered him, feeling the muscles around me clench and unclench in response. It felt amazing, like a perfect fit.
As we fucked, I couldn't help but notice the scent of submission and arousal wafting off of him. My cock, throbbing with desire, pumped in and out of his ass, pushing him deeper into his submissive role. I knew he loved every moment of it, even though he never spoke a word.
Finally, I pulled out, leaving him panting and sweaty with anticipation. I took aim at his waiting mouth, feeling the warm, sticky fluid hit my thighs before reaching its target. He opened his mouth wide, his tongue darting out to greet the stream of piss that poured into his mouth. It splashed against the sides of the funnel, some of it spilling down his chin. He savored every drop, relishing in the taste and the feeling of being my personal toilet.
After a few moments, I pulled away, leaving him to swallow the rest of my offering. Grabbing a towel, I wiped off any traces of my seed from his body before leading him back to the bedroom. There, we collapsed onto the bed, our hearts racing and our bodies still shaking with passion. It was then that he spoke, his voice hoarse with excitement.
"Thank you, my queen. That was the most exhilarating experience yet."
And so our toilet slavery ritual continued, our love for each other growing stronger with each passing moment. We explored new depths of passion and submission, pushing the boundaries of our relationship further each time we played. It was a world of its own, unique and strictly personal, where the scent of piss mixed with sweat and desire to create an aura of intimacy that couldn't be replicated anywhere else.
