Edwin and I married late in life--twenty-four. We've been married for
thirty-three fortunate years during which I have kept myself slender and
elegantly attractive. However, our sexual relations have become an infrequent,
if
once a month, boring occasion. Over the years Edwin collected a number of men's
magazines he kept secreted in a drawer of the workbench in his wood shop, not
suspecting that I have always known. The GALLERY and CLUB magazines have long
since disappeared, but the copies of LEG SHOW are always current.
One doesn't mature to my fifty-seven years without some knowledge and insight
into the sexual desires and enjoyments of one's marital partner, however naughty
they may seem at first. Edwin's interest in Leg show fantasies was apparent to
me,
and I complimented him by taking time to study the erotica he finds exciting as
he had complimented me by reading my Agatha Christie literature early on,
knowing
my interest in discussing character development in the fine mysteries she wrote.
I retired to our bedroom with a number of his issues for a quiet interlude. I
was
shocked at first, but pressed on for his sake, kindling my interest in a style
of
erotic photography and beautiful models I have not seen for a number of years.
As
I read I became hot and bothered. The dominant attitudes portrayed by the models
in their high heels and the
submissive postures they demand of their men aroused my passion in a way I would
not have suspected. In my minds eye I imagined Edwin stroking himself until his
thick member finally throbbed and spurted while looking at that magazine. My
velvet fingers lingered sweet and slow along the moist furrows beneath my skirt.
I have not delved my fingers so deeply or so
long between my legs that way for some years. It was elementary to mentally
justify my husband's fantasy to be teased and humiliated by dominant, taunting
women. I found myself quite wet and sexually excited imagining Edwin's stiffened
cock suffering slowly under the touch of my soft feet and teasing fingers,
pleading to be made to come. I would smile down at him, withholding his male
orgasm while petting him into delirium. I am not preternaturally cruel, however,
it would be an interesting fantasy. I determined to play the part of the fantasy
mistresses for him. If teasing and sexual torment was his desire, I could more
than accommodate him. I writhed in orgasm under my own manipulations as I made
my
plans. Tease torture is by its very nature slow; a tedious process for the
torturess--a timeless process for the tortured. I would be most deliberate,
stiffening his manhood by slow degrees. There would be no hurry to empty his
receptacles. He would suffer a good, old fashioned cock teasing with a few
refinements to ensure it would continue as long as I wanted. I would be the
wicked dominatrix patiently teasing and torturing his cock at length until I was
ready to be finished with him. I would be the haughty masturbatrix slowly
inflicting exquisite lingering torments upon his helpless and well oiled
manhood,
getting him worked up over and over without granting him relief until he lost
his
mind. He would be quite glad to beg for the privilege of sucking my tender toes,
my fingers, my shoes, or anything else I might
want sucked, in the hope that perhaps I would see fit to eventually drain his
balls dry at my discretion. I made it my business to dress appropriately in a
way
guaranteed to stiffen him for a cock teasing. I made a trip through one of the
city's shopping malls buying certain erotic clothing items. The
centrepieces were red patent mules with tall spiked heels which showed
off my red painted toe nails. I also selected black seamed nylons complete with
French lace tops to showcase my legs elegantly. A matching black lace brassiere
would lift my heavy sloping breasts. A sheer satin slip completed the outfit. I
had some devastating surprises in store. "Come here and kneel." I ordered when
Edwin returned home that
Friday morning. I pointed imperiously to the floor at my feet with a rigid
forefinger. He was instantly stunned. The draperies were closed tightly. A warm
romantic fire blazed in the fireplace behind me. I was
posed in his favourite recliner, a shapely leg sheathed in black nylon draped
over
the arm rest. The red shoes with their unbelievably tall spiked heels glistened
in the firelight, carefully placed on the mantle above my shoulder. My costume
erotically revealed my smooth naked flesh. I appeared slender and arousing. The
silky satin slip was pulled up past my waist, hiding nothing. My warm white
thighs were open to him, blatantly exposing my soft feminine parts before his
eyes. It was my full intention to excite and tease by showing him my moist inner
flesh
and refusing him admittance. I pointed and wriggled my stocking toes
meaningfully. Though shocked by my appearance, he became instantly aroused. That
long cylindrical form swelled in its obvious excitement and jutted against his
trousers. His cock was intimately familiar with
the slippery depths of my slit and the hot gripping that had drained his sperm
from him so often. He came forward to caress me with his hands but I denied him.
He would be shackled and teased, allowed only to look and want, but not to have.
His juices would be brought to the boiling point. Only I would control the heat.
I had lessons to teach him he could not learn while gratifying his swollen
member
in the hot moist sheath between my legs. His cock was to be kept stiff and
anxious, his
receptacles full and overflowing. His engorged maleness was useless while
enclosed within his trousers. It would be much more pleasant to observe his
sufferings if it were freed. I ordered him to strip every stitch of his clothing
and kneel at my feet beside my footstool. Edwin is very well hung with a thick
venous shaft craning enormously out in front, and large, lightly
furred balls swinging low between his thighs. I would tease them until
he cried like a little boy. "Let's play a little game, Edwin," I coaxed as he
knelt beside
the stool in front of me. "Fetch those shoes from the mantle and finish dressing
my feet for me." He hurried to comply. His warm hands fumbled just a bit as he
reverently lifted each of my feet and fitted the sparkling, new patent
mules over my red painted toes and soft heels. I offered the open toes
to his lips as he finished each foot. "I'm not doing this to make you come," I
told him sweetly as I
bobbled his swollen organ with my toes. "I'm going to tease you so very long.
You
might even find yourself begging me to make you come. I'm going to take you so,
so close to spurting, without letting you shoot.
You will not be allowed to. I'm going to make sexual release your ultimate goal.
Only I can give you that relief, and I won't." Edwin's sensitive meat stiffened
even more under my toes. "If you do unfortunately manage to shoot, you have no
idea the punishment I have planned for your balls." Edwin tried to question me,
but I declined to answer. My legs were lewdly spread. I rather took delight in
fingering my well-thatched feminine folds enticingly before his hungry gaze.
Naked and aroused, he was not allowed to touch. His cock was magnificently red
and swollen. His eyes were locked on my fragrant cleft open and waiting only
inches
from his face. How he longed to thrust his member inside there. He was
an aroused male for me to toy with. I would be the one to decide when his cock
received gratification and when it would not. He awaited my pleasures, and
answering questions did not please me. I lifted my feet for his inspection,
wiping my soles against his face. My toenails were painted a bright fetish red,
peeking through the open tip of my mules. His swollen cock bobbed nicely in the
air as in tribute to me. I instructed him to kiss my painted toenails through
the
dark nylon, not allowed to touch my flesh. I arched my feet and wriggled my toes
against his lips as he kissed them, laughing at his discomfiture, noting the way
his thick member shook with his desire even while being taunted. I dangled two
pairs of handcuffs from a red nailed finger, clicking them enticingly at him. I
made him put them on himself, one on each wrist. In short order he was spread
out
naked on the floor at my feet, ankle-tied to the base of a huge oak bookcase. I
knelt on the floor and mounted astride him, snapping a cuff to one leg of the
heavy
recliner. I deliberately let my overflowing bra cups hang in his face while I
leaned across to snap the other in place on the other leg of the recliner.
Handcuffs solved a lot of the problems. The cuffs smacked tight when he tried to
reach for me, surprised at discovering just what helplessness might mean to him
under my hands. I stayed mounted astride his chest, leisurely reaching behind
myself, petting his sensitive cock to rock hard stiffness by the inch, letting
him test his strength against steel and solid oak. I was quite amazed to find it
pleasantly delightful having his cock helpless beneath my fingers. It would have
been so easy to goad him to spurting had it been my wish. I intentionally
prolonged his arousal, enjoying my power over him. "I think you're enjoying
this." He accused, helplessly watching me toy with my front bra clasp before his
eyes. "Oh, you bet I am. Let me show you how much," I admitted. "Do these give
you any indication?" My cups sprang apart revealing stiffened pink nipples
protruding from my large breasts. He was aroused and shackled and it excited me
to taunt him. I bent forward slightly, lowering my breasts closer to his lips.
He
strained toward a rubbery tip with his pointed tongue, obviously wanting to
taste
and suckle those big tits. He couldn't have them. How exquisite. Shortly, I
closed my bra and resumed my seat above him. My womanhood grew more and more wet
and excited watching his sensitive male cock throb and pulse untouched as he
stared up at my legs. I reminded myself to be patient. Neither of us was going
anywhere, possibly for hours. He was obviously distracted by the nearness of my
legs but couldn't do anything about his male needs. As I fingered my nicely
furred mound just out of his sight, I dangled one red patent spike heel above
him, letting him see my soft sole and arch. I did not
show him the toes yet. Slowly I slipped the red heel off and then on again,
revealing myself almost to the toes, but not quite, showing him
the dark cleavage, then hiding it again, over and over. It drove him frantic. He
would have reached for me, caressed my soft delicate foot,
perhaps suckled my sensitive white toes. However, chained at my feet, he must
await my mercies. I extended my pointed heel and pricked the bloated head of his
rigid tool. It jerked as if electrically shocked. I prodded it again, longer
this
time, pressing his shaft aside by the sharp pressure of my spiked heel against
the knob of his cock. He groaned. I did not touch it again. Finally I slipped
one
shoe completely off onto the floor, letting him see my soft, nearly nude foot
and
red nailed toes as I arched, flexed and pointed. The captive animal between his
legs shuddered visibly. I pretended not to notice his quivering arousal. I
polished my slender stocking toes across the red patent leather on my other foot
directly above his face. I could just as easily have been polishing his red knob
and long shaft. It remained untouched. I could smell my own warm musk from
between my legs and the fragrance from my patent shoes. I had been wearing the
shoes and stockings for hours. I brushed my toes across his face and gave him my
scent. His nostrils flared as he inhaled deeply. It was a torture to him. He
strained upward trying to kiss my toes as I stretched and flexed my legs,
pointing and arching my feet above his eyes. I danced my smooth curves in the
air
just beyond his haggard face, allowing his lips to touch lightly on the tips of
my toes for the briefest moment. I moved a bit forward and spread my legs to
afford him a better view. He stared hungrily into the deep shadow under my slip.
I pressed my soft, moist toes right into his open mouth. His eyes were wide with
lust. I was delighted at arousing his tool for my pleasure then abandoning it to
suffer its helpless need alone. Yet it had much to endure from me before I would
consider granting the sweet release of its frothing fluids. Helplessly
stiffened,
my husband suckled my toes, his heavy plums swollen with juice, longing for
gripping and squeezing I would
withhold. I could not help thoroughly enjoying driving my husband crazy. A woman
who has never patiently tantalized her husband's cock then calmly withheld
sexual
relief from him is missing quite a thrill. I am
surprised Edwin had never presented me with a small gift box wrapped in pink
paper and a big red bow, which when I unwrapped it contained a pair of gleaming
hand-polished handcuffs. How many years of endless sucking and prolonged
teasing I could have made him suffer. How many long hours could he have writhed
helplessly in my hot embrace, unable to have me. Edwin lay naked and shackled at
my feet, his stiffness bobbing in the air. I distracted him by tapping his heavy
balls with the spiked heel of one glistening red shoe. His arousal grew even
more
enormous and erect, just as I intended it to. Nicely teased, an organ that size
would cause him special frustration while kept undrained. I toyed with his
distended cock between the polished soles of my red mules until he groaned,
raking his length with my exposed toe nails. I smiled to see him so stiffened
and
aroused, but showed only disdain for his needs. This was only the beginning.
There was a cruelly prolonged teasing in store for him. His male organ would
suffer much down all the long hours ahead. I knew his desire. He hoped I would
relent and slowly squeeze and stroke his member until he spurted his juices into
my warm taunting palm, but he must learn to wait. I pressed his face down
against
the floor with my feet. My red
mules were alluring on the carpet against his lips. As he lay there helplessly,
I
stretched my long legs above his face, pointing my toes and arching my feet. I
briefly allowed him to kiss and lick my toes through my dark hose. He did not
deserve to worship my bare soles yet. I loved his tongue working around each toe
in turn. I smiled encouragingly at him as he suckled there, his hot tongue
probing into the open toe of my red patent shoes. He was my footstool. His pole
bounced up and down against my stockinged ankle. His penis was quite hot. I let
it throb against my ankles, imagining myself gripping him mercilessly between
the
hard soles and dagger heels of my shoes. He would be absolutely forbidden to
spill a drop of his hot liquid. I would frig and toy with him most cruelly,
slowly stroking his burning flesh gently up and down at length between
the soles of my shoes until he could no longer withhold his sperm. He could not
escape my goading red spikes. He would groan and squeeze his
muscles, helplessly trying to resist my urging feet, but his organ would be
heartlessly stroked until forced to squirt. After his thick emissions had been
teased forth, frothing out across his stomach and my tormenting feet, he would
then be punished for having disobeyed my command not to
come. However, I decided to do otherwise, removing my feet from his cock,
leaving
him to throb in the empty air. His hands were cuffed. He could not resist as I
knelt across his face toward his knees, pinning his shoulders to the carpet. My
satin slip fell across his eyes and mouth. His face fit nicely between the
cheeks
of my generous bottom. He could smell my moistened slit and bottom hole rubbing
against his nostrils through the sheer fabric. It would increase his cock stand
to lick me through my slip, unable to tongue between my thick lips. His breath
was hot under the fabric as I
ground my sensitized clitoris against his tongue. The thickness of his
throbbing cock increased from the closeness of my fragrances. The colour of his
shaft deepened to a wine-red hue. His licking was easily controlled. I simply
raked my fingers through his thick chest hair, locating his nipples. I pinched
them sharply between pointed nails until his muffled groans bleated from beneath
my bottom cheeks. His male nipples became little adjustment knobs to twist and
tweak between my sharp red nails. I had intentionally filed them to exquisite
red
daggers for just such an opportunity. While his tonguings were sufficient, I
flicked and rolled his hardened nipples gently, arousing those sensitive bundles
of nerves. When I felt he could do a bit better I was quite cruel to the hard,
rubbery tips between my
glistening red nails. Under such torment, he jolted and twitched, chained and
pinned beneath my nether globes. I dealt with his masculine points at length. I
might have been a beautiful and evil torturess with questions and answers to pry
from a shackled prisoner on my rack. Chained, naked, helpless and alone, in the
timeless depths of my hot smoky dungeon, he would beg me to cease his torture
and
listen as he confessed all. My clitoris felt swollen to vast proportions and
throbbed nicely against his lips as he suckled. I allowed him to satisfy me with
a number of pleasant orgasms before I lifted my bottom from his face. My slip
remained draped across his face to smother him in my hot musky fragrance. It
would not do to have him see how his pointed tongue had affected me. I allowed
him a few deep breaths of warm musky air before
spreading my cheeks apart and enveloping his face with my bottom hole again.
Smothered beneath my bottom, his groans were very effectively silenced. Edwin
was
obviously quite urgent to sperm but there was no need for it. I saw no reason to
bring him to orgasm for some time. His helpless cock was not accustomed to being
teased and goaded. He grew exquisitely frustrated as I patiently coaxed his
large
manhood to impossible swelling and sensitivity. I knew just how smooth and hard
his hot penis would feel in my palm were I to begin leisurely pumping his
foreskin to and fro, forcing his sperm from him. I did not desire to grip his
penis yet, however. It was much more pleasant to observe the effects of the slow
tantalizations I performed on him without causing his cock to soften by allowing
it to squirt. His juices would simmer.
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