Mrs Turner’s urine flowed over me like a wild sexual baptism. It was in my navel, rolling down my sides, trickling into my arse.“Dirty girl,’ I ...colded teasingly.“You love it,” she said confidently. “I hoped you would.”“But you were going to do it anyway,” I cajoled, as the stream subsided. I felt her around her sopping wet source.“”I’ve followed your lead lots of times, and liked what I was doing,” she said, and I realized it was true. She was used to being in control, but what she had been. Besides getting her hair and make-up fixed up, she still needed to find shoes to complete her outfit for the evening. Her line-up of daily shoes didn’t fit the bill at all. Feeling frustrated, she made her way from the closet back into the bedroom. While looking at her lingerie bin still sitting on the bed, she remembered her husband had bought her a few pairs of “fuck me” shoes earlier that year. “I couldn’t wear any of those,” she thought to herself. After another trip through the closet and. More

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