On a warm, humid afternoon, my best friend and I decided to spend some quality time together indoors. We chose a plush, upholstered couch in our living room where we could comfortably sprawl out and relish in each other's company. As the day wore on, we lost track of time and our conversation flowed effortlessly. The sun began to set, casting a dusky hue over the room, but we remained engrossed in our conversation, ignoring the creeping darkness outside.
At some point, we noticed our bladders were full. The couch had been our safe haven all day, but now it felt confining. Suddenly, a mischievous idea struck us. We locked eyes, and without speaking a word, we knew what we were about to do.
"Come here," I said, pointing to the rug below us. With a puzzled expression on his face, our slave crawled across the rug and lay down flat on his back. The sight of his naked body, pale and vulnerable beneath our gaze, filled me with a sense of power.
I slipped out of my panties and stood above him, my legs slightly spread. Slowly, I lowered myself towards him, and as I did so, I felt a warm, soothing rush of urine flowing out of me. I aimed directly at his chest and let the stream hit him full force. The release was exhilarating, and I couldn't help but grin as I watched the golden liquid spill over his exposed skin.
My friend watched intently, her eyes gleaming with excitement. Without saying a word, she stepped forward and positioned herself over the slave's face. She arched her back slightly, letting her stream hit his face and neck. As she did so, she let out a quiet chuckle, enjoying the power and control she felt.
Seeing her enjoying herself, I couldn't resist joining in. I knelt down beside her and let my stream hit his other cheek. We took turns urinating on him, soaking his entire body in our golden showers. He lay there motionless, his eyes closed, enduring our humiliation with stoic silence.
As we emptied our bladders, we forgot about our original plan to use the bathroom. Instead, we sat back on the couch, feeling rejuvenated and satisfied. We didn't mind the pungent smell that permeated the room; we even found it amusing. We glanced over at the slave occasionally, taking pleasure in his discomfort.
Eventually, we grew tired and decided to end our little game. We ordered him to stay where he was, and with that, we left him there, covered in a sticky film of our piss. We retreated to a different room, leaving him to stew in his own filth. Content with our day's indulgence, we collapsed onto another couch, sipping wine and chatting about innocuous topics.
In retrospect, our actions were depraved and cruel. However, in the heat of the moment, we laughed and enjoyed each other's company, completely oblivious to the harm we were causing. As we drifted off to sleep later that night, I couldn't shake the image of the slave, his body bathed in our golden showers. It was a macabre memory that haunted me, a reminder of the darker side of our seemingly harmless friendship.
