My Notes (Chapter 2) [Fdom] [FM] [Feet] [Str8] [PIV] [Cun] [Denial]

My Notes
Erotic fiction by A. Bond

Topics: Male/female heterosexual, foot fetish, bored/ignored, cunnilingus, PIV
Tags: [Fdom] [FM] [Feet] [Str8] [PIV] [Cun]

Chapter 2: A reveal

# Night Review
After the night where she’d pegged me and then teased and masturbated in front of me just to then leave me harder than a statue it was a few days before we got to talk about the experience. I’d gone to my notebook and folded down multiple pages the next day: Be denied the opportunity to orgasm; get to watch her masturbate right in front of me; taste her off of a toy/strapon; be peed on in the shower.

“Are we going to talk about the other night sometime?” I asked her when we both weren’t too busy.

“Sure, what?” a soft answer.

“Well, it was great for me – I just wasn’t sure what you thought about it all. I know some of that is newer to you and just; I don’t know.”

She shrugged as if this new branching of her willingness and confidence was nothing at all to her. “Guess I was just in the right mood and thought you might like it.”

“Yes, I definitely did. I just,” I stammered off. “I knew it was a lot to you, and I appreciate it because it meant a lot to me. Thank you.”

She kissed my forehead and then backed off and stared into my eyes for a moment. Another peck to the forehead and the topic was dropped and we moved on.

# Behaviour Adjustment
The next few days we didn’t have many opportunities for adult-time. Things were busy. She made it a point and effort to give me touches throughout the day – even if just simple quick hugs and kisses as we passed in the house. I’d say my usual cheesy lines to be a stupid flirt. Most of all though I noticed my mood changed. I realized that I was still doing everything I could to make her happy. Now, let’s pause here and have some real-talk. I always want my wife to be happy, let’s make that clear. However, when I’m really anticipating that if _she’s_ happy on a particular day that it’s going to pay-off big to me in the bedroom – I just seem to sense this naturally and be _extra_ helpful towards making her day better. Basically, I’m totally cock-motivated to investing as much effort into making her life easier and better based on how absolutely horny I am. Shitty of me? Maybe? I don’t really know. The reality is that when I think I’m going to get pleasure, I’m a lot more apt to invest my efforts in things that I think will lead me there. The contrast to this is knowing that on days where there are outside forces that I know have limited her desire for sex (her friends or family frustrating her, external stressors, etc), I know that I don’t invest as much effort in trying to express my horniness because I know it’s a dead-end.

My wife had noticed this too. Maybe that’s where the denial part of the other night had come from. I’ve expressed to her before my desire to be denied or controlled by her – but I couldn’t help but think that she too had noticed a pattern in my behaviour and realized that I’m much more helpful around the house and overly kind to her when I really want something from her. What way to keep a man really wanting something than to string him along with hypersexual interactions – but ones that don’t result in a satisfying orgasm at the end?

# Again?
We watched a movie together on our couch. Just a usual time-waster on a late-evening. She nestled into the corner of our large sofa and I’d reached and dragged her legs across my lap so that I could rub on her feet while we watched. I noticed a slightly rough spot and during a commercial break fetched a bin in which we keep nail polishes, remover, scrapers, essentially all the tools necessary for proper pedicures. To some extents my handling the cleaning and painting of her nails was a factor of my foot fetish and desire to always play with her beautiful feet. Naturally, kept in a more appealing appearance benefited my own desires. Likewise, the sheer act of doing such maintenance as painting her toes provided me with both a pleasure for the act itself as well as helped to fortify my desire for touching, kissing, or outright fucking her feet and toes. Lastly, regardless of my foot fetish, I just plain had always liked “serving” my wife. Whether it was helping her with tasks, massaging her, bathing her, etc – I enjoyed anything that I could do which would benefit her wellbeing and happiness.

So there she watched a movie as if she had not a care in the world beyond knowing who really was the bad-guy and how they would get caught. Meanwhile I paid in-depth attention to applying a layer of bright fluorescent paints to her toes while my cock distorted my shorts and tried to beg for its own attention. Once the paint was done and dry I turned to rubbing her feet. This was casual for us but was something that I found very sensual and erotic while also feeling like I was not bothering her with my own horniness, since it’s nice for/to her also.

With a busy day the next day we headed to bed after the movie. I could read from her choice of pajamas and anxiousness to get to bed that tonight was not going to turn into anything much, so mentally resigned I used the restroom and prepared to get to sleep also. When I came to bed and lay against her she slowly dragged her feet up my legs from across the bed. Not spooning or anything, more like an under-the-table footsies slide. I looked over and just smirked. I could hear the next thing she was going to say before she’d even said it. ‘How much do you love me?’ (I always pause here and wait) ‘Will you go (get me a drink, make sure I turned off the oven)’ – it’s always something like that.

“Do you want them?” OK – *not* what I thought I was going to hear.

“Huh?” I stumbled mentally since I wasn’t expecting this.

“Seems you liked them earlier,” she trails off and wiggles her toes against my leg again.

“Yeah, if I can!” I already had my shorts halfway down and was grabbing lotion. Her tiredness still hadn’t disappeared, so I knew this was going to be a lazy-footjob type of night. You see, some days she really goes all out and I will just lay as she works her feet and legs around my cock until I burst; other days she sort of just lays in bed and lets me take hold of her feet with my hands and just – well – ‘use her’. It’s not that she’s not participating, she’ll still try her best to curve her soles to capture my cock and wiggle her toes if I’m moving them in a particular way – it’s just slightly more masturbatory than not.

I relocated so that I was off of the bed and was kneeling on the ground. She stayed where she was and although she’s short, I could still just reach her feet with my hands and mouth from being on the ground. I traced my lips on her freshly painted toes and pressed my thumbs into her soles again. I moved her soles to be against my face as if I was playing peek-a-boo and just held them there. With her soles on my cheeks the ball of her foot was near by eyes and while I’m sure it sounds strange it is just a very therapeutic/comfortable position for me.

I knew she was already going out of her way for me though so I didn’t want to take too much advantage of her willingness or time. I twisted myself so that we were laying as a T. I was perpendicular to her with her bare feet reaching just to my hips and around my cock. I put some lotion on my hands and rubbed them quickly to warm it and slathered some onto the soles of each foot and then gave myself a couple good pumps of my fist along my cock to get myself lubricated too. I used my hands to cup her feet tightly around me and made long slow thrusts of my cock between her soles. When she wiggled her toes I shifted my cock into the cleft beneath her toes just above the pad of her foot and stared as I watched the fresh paint and small toes slide along my cock.

I love the texture of her feet but also always enjoy how dainty they are. I’m not a small guy but I’m pretty average and wrapping her small feet and toes around my cock always makes me feel huge. She seemed to ignore what I was doing as she played on her phone as I lay there nude slow-fucking her feet. I picked up my rhythm and reached for the hand towel I’d brought over with the lotion. While during normal footplay I make my best effort to just absolutely cover her toes with as much cum as possible – on these “quickie” nights I usually just work myself up all the way and then shoot into a hand towel or washcloth so that I don’t need to spend as much time cleaning her off (or accidentally risking leaving her sticky for the next morning). So as I said, I thought she was ignoring me — until I reached for my hand-towel.

“You’re not going to cum.” she says briskly as she looks up quickly from her phone. My brain first heard this as – I don’t know what – I thought maybe she said “You’re not going to cum; yet” or something like that. I slowed my pace while I processed what she said – but didn’t stop.

“Huh?” I question her to repeat herself – I don’t hear well so want to get clarification. Maybe she’s just checking to see if I was going to cum on her feet vs into the towel?

“You need to save it. You’re not going to cum tonight.” she says this all as if it’s just known information that she’s repeating to me – like there was some inner-office memo that I should’ve read and been aware of already.

“Oh, I, uh. Ok.” I stammer like a fool as my brain hits the brakes on the orgasm that I was just working so well towards achieving.

“Can I still fuck your feet some more?” I ask.

“Maybe, can you control yourself? That’s up to you.” she’s smirking now – not just playing the authoritarian but enjoying herself as a tease.

“No, it’s up to you – it’s your control.” I felt smart saying this – I was catching onto the drift now. “But yes, if I can – I’d like to still fuck your sexy feet a little bit more. I did spent a lot of time desiring them today and I will promise to not cum.”

“Ok then.” she went back to her phone. I thought that I was going to just slow down and enjoy this for a bit longer now – but I was hypersensitive now and almost any movement or touch had me dangerously close to cumming. I wiped the excess lotion from her feet and my cock, tossed the towel in the laundry bin, kissed her forehead, thanked her, and went to bed.

# A changing brain
It’s funny how certain things can control the libido. I’m always horny. There are few exceptions which are usually directly during recovery period from having just cum. However, I do find that when I anticipate that I may have some nice-night with my wife that I’m extra thoughtful and good about everything; whether it is helping around the nice, offering massages, being more cautious with how I word things, etc. I’d find myself being so concerned with keeping her in a good mood and mindset (so that I have a better chance of getting what I want later) that I’m very attentive. Likewise, that same anticipation and desire keeps me extra horny as I’ve not yet had the release.

I found myself thinking about the past few days again and realizing how happy I was about them. Here I was having not cum after two very different, very sexual encounters with my wife, but I was still pleased. I began to think perhaps I was even more pleased than if I *had* cum during them. I thought that if I had gotten off the other night then I may not have been as attention-seeking the next day to give her the pedicure and attention – and then I may not have ended up getting the footjob that night and – it was all a lot to take in.

Usually when I get horny I’d test-the-waters with my wife to see how likely it was that I’d get to have sex with her (or even if not proper penis-in-vagina sex, have her get me off, or use her to get myself off) and if that seemed unlikely for whatever reason I’d just go masturbate to pictures or videos of her/us. Now I was finding the thought of masturbating not very appealing. Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely will always take sex over not-sex, her getting-me-off over not, and even just being allowed to rub on her while masturbating myself over doing it alone – but I also always would get so pent-up that giving myself the release I saw as a means-to-an-end. I decided this was interesting and worth mentally paying attention to as the next few days came. I’d try to avoid jerking off despite being constantly aroused and horny, and see how my mind does with regards to my interactions with my wife.

# These are a few of my favourite things
That evening she went out to run a few errands. Whilst out she texted me, “Be ready when I’m home.” I took a shower. I wasn’t completely sure what “ready” meant in this context so I tossed on some knit boxers and a t-shirt. I wondered fruitlessly about what she had in mind. I wondered more what _I_ had in mind. Where do I want this to go if it were up to me?

She got home and we put away things together. I couldn’t keep my hands from her. When she was putting things in lower shelves I’d quickly cup or pat her ass while she bent. When she’d reach for high cabinets I’d nestle behind her and kiss the side of her neck. I was like a moth to a flame – everytime I tried to not be annoying and give her space to do as she desired I’d be drawn back in to touch – to smell – to taste – to just be close to her again. In all our years together I’ve desired her in many ways. I’ve desired attention, closeness, reassurance, confidence, and nearly every part of her body and being but this felt different.

She grabbed a tank and some cheer shorts and was around the corner before I could question her or read anything about her mood. Had she lost her “mood” she said she was in earlier? I just hung out in the room in my shorts and t-shirt. She came back in and I knew I was still “in the game” as I think in my head. Why? I could tell that there was not even a sportsbra on underneath her sleeping tank. However, then she bypassed me and went to her side of the bed and got in and laid down. She patted the bed beside her as she rolled over onto her side – indicating I should come and be the big-spoon to cuddle against her. She lifted her head and shoulder as I slipped my right arm underneath her and draw my body around hers. This always felt nice.

As I grew behind her from her closeness and near-nudity, I shifted to adjust my cock so that I was not pressing upward at her rear, but brought it up (as one would do to try to hide a hardon beneath their waistband) so that I was not pressed to her as much.

“Mmmm,” she softly said/moaned as I did this. As I re-settled she pressed back and ground her ass against my cock. A few layers of cotton or not this felt great. I kissed softly on her neck and tightened my arms around her chest more. I was testing the waters. She lifted her chin to allow me better access to her. She ground her ass against me harder now, and one of her feet began to trace up my leg whilst she did this. Game on.

We continued like this for both forever and only a few minutes – it depends on whether you were asking me or the clock. Her hand wrapped around behind my head and kept my mouth tight to her as I kissed at her earlobe and gently bit. It was a game of who makes the first move. I don’t know how we get to these positions when I feel like so many gambits have already played out, yet there it is – who dares make the first *bigger* move. I lost. I pressed myself up on my elbow and rolled her flat onto her back under me and collapsed onto her. Pulling her hair gently I kept her head back so that I could more easily attack her throat with my mouth. The resistance she gave was expected but only brief as she fought her own ticklishness to let me take her neck.

Her mouth opened to exhale and moan together and I thrust myself upon her. No warm-up kisses here. Her mouth took me and our tongues lashed quickly at first, then slowed as we found a playful fighting rhythm in our kiss. We paused to both breath and I lifted her tank to expose her to me. My hands were just scouts and my mouth followed them as I let her catch her breath as I moved my attention to her breasts. My hands glided on her stomach and tested at grabbing her hips. My lips rose to her again and she was still wanton.

We repeated this endeavour many times. I had lost the first play by weakening and turning our dry-humping/grinding session into a make-out, but I was determined I would not lose this second round. I could kiss and touch her going from her stomach to her breasts to her mouth and neck for hours if she was going to withstand it.

This time I won. She lifted her hips under me to indicate for me to lift. I pressed up so I was hovering above her. She reached and took down the shorts she was wearing and then wriggled her legs to kick them off. I hadn’t noticed the lack of panties until then. I’d need to pay better attention in the future.

“You need to be in me.” was almost a growl. If she breathed heavier I wouldn’t’ve been able to make out her words. Maybe I couldn’t make them out and I just knew. I knew that was what she wanted.

I lifted to move my hips above hers. She angled her torso so that she could reach my cock and took it into her fist. She aligned me with her wet pussy and rubbed my head up and down over her opening – sharing my precum with her own to make us both more than ready for fucking. I leaned and kissed her more. I love being tongue deep in her mouth when I plunge into her. She kept her grip and put just the head of my cock into her. From having had the cooling air and precum on me moments before to feeling the beginning of her entrance made the different feel like a furnace.

Fuck. We were in that game again. I was enjoying making out and her rubbing me along her for a while before I realized she wasn’t going to proceed from here. She wanted to win again.

“I thought you wanted me in you?” I half-laugh as I say this to her ear. She let out a wry, soft laugh. She knew I’d caught on to her game.

“Oh, I do, just not that.” Her hand released my cock and she brought it up to my face. She offered me her fingers that were now quite wet with our combined flavours. I sucked them into my mouth and responded with my own, “Mmmm.” Her hands tapped my shoulders twice. She wasn’t being an adolescent boy and trying to force my head down, but she was making it damn sure clear what she wanted. I’ll call this round a stalemate.

I shifted my knees back and again kissed down her chest and stomach. My hips dragged down the bed and my cock grazed her foot as I re-positioned myself. She twinkled an eye and gave my cock a quick flirting pass with her foot before I settled onto my chest between her legs. I kissed and licked. I spread her outer lips and traced along her inner. I gave her clitoris attention from every angle the tip of my tongue could muster – then let my tongue press flat and glide along her. She tasted wonderful. I could taste myself on her also.

Every so often I’d peak my eyes up to look beyond my attention and look to see her head back, eyes closed, hands grabbing at the sheets around and behind her head as if they were parachute straps and she was must hold on tightly less she fall. I didn’t want to break whatever spell she was under so I continued in the same cycle, neither slowing not increasing tempo. Her legs began to flex their muscles as she shifted them to spread herself more, allowing me deeper access.

While generally I treat cunnilingus as an outside adventure I would occasionally press my fat tongue deep into her vagina and try my hardest to see if I could reach the tip of my tongue to her g-spot. This pressure would always result in my upper lip wrapping my top teeth and pressing against her clitoris as well. I moaned to her. I wanted her to hear *my* pleasure that was coming from this action. I was caught in the crux of wanting to be there forever while also desiring that I would bring her to the point of pleasure that she could not stand to have me continue either.

Her hand grabbed my hair and wove her fingers into the roots. My hair became the reigns to control my speeds and pressures by as she used this to guide me to the right place to get her to her desired destination. Then the pressure increased and her thighs tightened too. I held my position readily as she kept my head still with her hands and used her hips to grind the last bits of enjoyment out of using my mouth. She needed to recover and I wanted to bask as well.

Her eyes opening were like a light turning on in the room. Bright and happy she made me happy.

“Now I want you in me.” Her voice was huskier now, recovering from one act but still desiring the other. I re-mounted her and went to slide in – her hand come around to guide me again. Her fist stopped my depth just as before. I closed my eyes and tried to endure. She moved her hand to my back and used her arms to pull me down so our chests were pressed. My head was around her neck and shoulder and hers to mine when she said, “Now, deep.”

The end of Chapter 2.

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/nw5w2l/my_notes_chapter_2_fdom_fm_feet_str8_piv_cun

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