After twenty years of marriage I am finally very happily married. Oh, my husband and I have always loved each other, sometimes more, sometimes less. Like all couples we had our good times and our bad, our arguments and our fights. But the latter had begun to take more and more out of me, and the reservoir of contentment and joy, which I had always hoped would grow not diminish as our life together continued, did indeed begin to significantly lessen.
This probably affected me far more than my husband. You see, when it came to the inevitable disagreements and arguments that are part of any couple’s normal life, even those that occasionally evolved into full fledged fights, in our particular marriage I was always at a severe disadvantage. Drew is at heart a very loving and caring person, ant that is why I fell in, and am still deeply in love with him. He is also a very driven and highly competitive individual, which are undoubtedly major reasons why he has been so successful in the business world. Added to this is that he is, and has always been a very effective debater, and revels in it, while I have very little of that skill, and so you can easily imagine how infrequently I might prevail in any verbal contests we have. I think that many times he engaged in an argument with me just for the thrill of the verbal jousting. Often, when it was about an issue he didn’t truly care much about, once he had established to his satisfaction the superiority of his position he would graciously concede the outcome to me, making it more than subtly clear though that he was doing so purely as a beneficence to me, not due to any rightness of my position. This of course would only serve to frustrate me all the more despite my apparent ‘victory’.
It was even worse obviously when our arguments were on subjects that we both felt strongly about. Here he rarely if ever gave any quarter, and despite how strongly I might feel about the issue at hand I was never a match for his linguistic virtuosity. Sometimes he was so good that he could even lead me to come to doubt the rightness of my cause no matter how deeply I might have believed in it. More often however, once I reached the end of any viable challenge on my part I fall back on the only option remaining to me, a full fledged fight, followed inevitably with the only resort left at my disposal … silence.
Once we entered the cold shoulder, minimal-communication-for-necessities only stage, it could last for days. Of course neither one of us enjoyed these times and they were not fun at all to be in, but I think they might have usually lasted a lot longer except for one thing … we both, before too much time passed, would become hornier than hell so that one or the other of us would come up with some half baked compromise, or more often we would both agree to put off further consideration of our disagreement just so we could more comfortably and enthusiastically get back in the sack with each other.
In the bedroom Drew is a completely different person than he is in all other phases of his life, and in our relationship. Here he is completely devoted to my needs and wants, seeing to my pleasure and submitting to all of my whims before allowing himself any of his own. He likes and wants me to be in total control of our intimacy, and I love and do take full advantage of this.
One very particular feature of Drew’s submissiveness in this setting is his very strong foot fetish. There is nothing that gets his engine revving more that starting our love making with him on his knees at the end of our bed worshiping my feet. I’d be lying if I said that this wasn’t a huge turn on for me as well, feeling his lips gently caressing the soles of my feet as he whispers how much he adores me, before he slowly works down to the bottoms of my toes, softly kissing them all and then slipping his tongue between each one, sending shivers of delight coursing through me. With my active encouragement he will then take each one individually into his mouth and suck with increasing ardor until I can stand no more and pull my foot from his mouth, rub both of my feet over the entirety of his face, and then curl them around the back of his neck to entice him to begin his journey up between my legs.
Needing no further inspiration he will then take one of my feet in his hand and bring it back forward in front of him, and with his outstretched tongue begin at my instep and lovingly lick his way around my heel, slowly up the inside of my calf, spending extra time in the back of my knee before proceeding up my inner thigh to finally reach the feast in which we both want him to so deliciously partake.
I spread my legs invitingly and he moans so delightedly and expectantly. I thrust my treasure slightly up and down to express my permission for him to proceed and he begins by softly blowing on the petals before him, sending tingles of anticipation within me. He then lightly flicks the tip of his tongue upon my outer lips, gradually moving it gently between them causing my trove’s movements to become more pronounced and less voluntary. canlı bahis Suddenly his tongue thrusts itself more fully , invading the vault within and working its way upward to capture and envelop its most precious jewel.
Unable to contain myself I arch back and groan hungrily as his tongue swirls around my pearl, sending indescribable jolts of joy surging throughout me. Knowing not to short circuit the longer, deeper pleasure he has in mind for me, before long he moves his tongue away from this most sensitive nub and begins to thrust it more fully inward, slowly at first, then more urgently as my pelvis begins to undulate in time with his ministrations, and my groans become whimpers as my head rolls from side to side and my hands claw at the sheets beside.
And then my juices begin to flow and bathe his tongue his lips his face, all buried so deeply between my legs, but before I explode in full cascade I grab the top of his head by the hair and pull him roughly up onto the bed and onto his back. His manhood, fully risen in tribute and totally mine, stands upright in front of me begging its own release and relief. But before that’s allowed it must pleasure me to my utmost desire. I climb up onto him, always on top, and impale myself onto my joystick. Savoring its fullness within I slowly rotate and grind down over his groin, eliciting from him his own yearning groan. I begin to slide up and down, leisurely at first, but my need, already well ignited, propels me forward and I rapidly pick up the pace until before long I am riding him with wide abandon, surging for that crescendo of utter rapture that I know will soon come. And I feel him below me struggling mightily to keep his own need in check until I am ready and cresting and grant him his required permission to join me in the resulting tsunami. This excites me all the more and is all that I need to finally push me over the edge.
“Now, Drew, Now.” is all I need to cry before he drives his pelvis as forcefully upward as he possibly can and we both burst forth our essences in turbulent fury, seeming without end, until we can offer no more, and completely spent we collapse, drained, into each other’s arms.
As fulfilling and enjoyable as these bedroom moments have always been, especially as I am always in complete charge of them, my seeming inability to effect an even equal footing in all other aspects of our relationship had long begun to grate and greatly frustrate me. It was not that my husband was overtly domineering, or made any conscious effort to directly control me or us. Indeed I truly believe he wanted me to be happy. It was just that, as I said before, he was so innately competitive that he just couldn’t help himself. He always felt that he needed to prevail, even when it was about something not particularly significant to him, and I remained woefully ineffective in ever contesting his linguistic skills. Oh, he would sometimes become aware of how this upset me and back off, not because he accepted the rightness of my position but more to try to placate me. This only served to increase my growing discontent. On issues where we both felt equally adamant however there was never any give. And as I was always unable to adequately combat his seemingly superior arguments, this only fueled my silent rage. I began to feel that if I didn’t find some way, any way, to level the playing field between us the game, our marriage, could be lost. I did not want to seek a diminishment in his abilities, but rather to raise and improve on mine. I just couldn’t figure how to do so.
It was after a particularly intense argument when we had one of our longest periods of cold silence between us, and it was well over two weeks where I barely acknowledged him. I freely admit that he made efforts along the way to defuse the tension, short of giving in to me of course, but I continued to rebuff them. It was not that I enjoyed the situation, but it was the only weapon that I had. After that long however the needs of my libido began to come into play. And so one evening when he again tried to become playfully enticing I finally backed down, grabbed his hand and led him to the bedroom.
We were now again in the realm of my acknowledged rule. While I had become very hot to trot I was still somewhat seething.
“Strip” I ordered him brusquely, and he rapidly began to comply as I myself removed only my skirt and panties and then sat down on the side of our bed.
“Here.” was my next command
He strode forward and slipped down to his knees in front of me leaning forward to lift up one of my feet into his hands. I knew what was to come next, and I suddenly realized that this time it was NOT what I wanted. I reached down and grabbed him by his arms and pulled him roughly onto the bed and onto his back. Without further ado I mounted his face and brought my sacristy down onto his lips. While undoubtedly surprised at how quickly we had arrived at this point, he understood what was expected and worked his tongue vigorously as I mashed down continuously onto his mouth, bringing myself to several bahis siteleri satisfying orgasms before I finally pulled off and repositioned myself onto his jutting pole, bringing myself to one more shuddering climax before allowing him his only one.
I collapsed off of him onto my back, fully sated. It had been fast and furious, far different from our norm, but I had needed that to help bank and cool any of my remaining anger. But as I lay there I began to sense that my husband did not seem quite as fulfilled, very likely I came to surmise, due to the lack of his usual submissive foreplay. As I contemplated this, a seed of an idea began to form.
We approached our next evening of intimacy several days later with much more pleasant feelings for each other. But I once again refused to allow him to kiss my feet. I did permit him however a prolonged and leisurely spell with his face between my legs before I climbed up upon him for my final pleasure, and his one squirt. I enjoyed it all immensely but I could again see his unspoken sense of disappointment. And my seed of an idea started to coalesce into a strategy.
With our next bout of love making he was again denied access to my peds and his growing frustration was becoming readily evident. Given the nature of our relationship in the bedroom he would almost certainly feel it inappropriate to voice his concern there, so my strategy was now developing into a plan. It was one that I feared had a high potential for failure because for it to work I knew that it had to be sparked and initiated by him, and outside of the bedroom. It was in that arena where I needed to establish my keenly sought for but sorely lacking authority and strength.
To try to accelerate this process, without making anything obvious or suggestive, I refrained from initiating any further sexual interactions between us for the next few weeks. This had the desired effect as I could see him becoming more antsy and frisky by the day, and finally one night after dinner he ventured forth with the proposal that we might retire to the bedroom for some too long neglected fun and games. When I coyly responded that I might be interested itspurred him on to more boldly suggest what had been withheld from him even longer.
“Maybe I might even be able to finally spend some quality time with your toes again.” he added with a hopeful grin.
This was the opening for which I had been waiting and my heart began to race. So much now depended on how this now played out.
“No, I don’t think so, Drew.” I responded firmly.
His face fell.
“Why not, Hon?” he implored. “You used to love it when I worshiped your feet.”
“Not as much as you.” I retorted.
“But still, I know that you enjoy it.” He rebutted with a sly smile. When I didn’t answer he tried a different tack.
“You’re not still angry about that discussion we had over a month ago, are you? Don’t you think you’re taking that all a little bit far?”
“It was more than a ‘discussion’ Drew.”
“So now you feel that you still have to punish me after all this time just because you didn’t get your way? Isn’t that somewhat childish?”
“I’m not punishing you Drew. I’m just ‘not’ doing something I don’t want to do. And who’s the one acting childish, whining because he can’t get his way and what he wants.”
“Aw gee, Lori,” he replied in a calm and reasonable voice. “You know that I always try and do anything and everything you like and ask for in the bedroom. Don’t you think it’s just the teeniest bit fair that I have something that I love to do as well?”
I could feel the ‘discussion’ beginning to go his way as it always did, and I could feel my anger stirring as I tried to rally.
“Oh, so you don’t ‘love’ all the other things we do there, is that it?”
“Of course I do Hon. Nothing ever gives me more joy than giving you pleasure and taking you to the absolute heights. But I love to adore all of you, beginning from the very tips of your toes, and I can’t understand that if you love me why you won’t let me start there anymore.” he concluded with a reassuring smile.
I could once again see it slipping away, with no reasonable rejoinder to offer back, and this is where I would usually fall back into a vanquished silence. But this time it was all proceeding to plan. Still my anxiety roiled within me. It was make it or break it time. This just had to work. I was out of any other options.
“Okay Drew.” I offered, far more calmly than I felt. “You want to kiss my feet, I’ll let you kiss my feet, but from now on there’s only one way that you’re going to be allowed that privilege.”
“How so?” he responded cautiously, perhaps taken somewhat aback by the direction this had gone, which gave me a bit more confidence to proceed. It was time. I took a deep breath.
“While I do sometimes enjoy our many ‘discussions’, and I do usually want to hear and know your opinions about things in our life, all too often I find you spinning out of control beyond all reason, and it’s becoming more and more, and extremely, irritating. bahis şirketleri So from now on, whenever I’ve had enough of all that I’m going to just say one word … ‘Down’ … Whenever and wherever you ever hear me say that single word you’re going to immediately stop whatever you’re saying and doing and get down on your knees and begin kissing my feet. And as you’re doing so you’re going to profusely apologize to me for being so bull headed and then tell me that of course I’m right and you’ll do whatever it is the way that I want. And you’ll keep kissing my feet until I decide that you’re sorry enough and sincere.”
My soliloquy was met at first with stunned silence. Then …
“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard.”
We had reached the point of no return.
“Not if you want to worship my feet as much as you claim.”
“But that’s just silly.”
“Down” was all I said.
He was momentarily at a loss for words, possibly for the first time ever with me, and then he could only sputter plaintively, “Lori … Hon …”
I charged onward, fearing to lose any momentum. “As this is your first time, this one time only I will give you a second chance, but if I ever have to repeat ‘the word’ a second time you will never again, under any circumstances, ever be allowed ANY access to my feet. So …” I paused and then put one of my feet forward.
There was clear indecision in his eyes and posture, and my heart hammered as I struggled to remain steel visaged and resolute. Hesitantly, but then with slightly more purpose he went down to his knees, slowly bent forward and brought his lips to my proffered foot. My spirit soared.
“And what are you supposed to be saying as you’re doing this?” I inquired more confidently than ever.
“Please … Please forgive me … for being so bull headed” he stammered as he continued to pay homage to my sandaled appendage.
“And what else?”
His lips and tongue continued to course over the length of my foot.
“Dreeeww.” I enjoined him sternly and began to pull my foot away. He stretched forward to try to maintain contact.
“I’ll … I’ll … whenever you’ve had enough and say the word …” he croaked hoarsely, “… I’ll go down like this as you say.”
“Good boy.” I murmured
At that moment I couldn’t have asked for anything more. I had rarely felt so exultant. And so filled with love … and desire. I pulled my foot away from him, this time without any question, and turned away.
“Follow me.” was all I said as I made my way up to the bedroom. He quickly rose and scampered after me, and our love making soon after was as electric as it had been in quite some time. Of course once inside I didn’t allow him any further contact with my feet.
Despite this initial spectacular success I knew that I needed to tread lightly at first so as not to scare him to retreat, even as he might in part perceive it in as a bit of a reward. So for the next few weeks I used my new weapon sparingly and selectively, and only for minor and inconsequential issues. I also included more frequent forays into the bedroom as positive reinforcement. It wasn’t too long before I could see him becoming more comfortable and accepting of our new situation. It didn’t hurt of course that these were the only times that he was allowed any contact with his very desired part of my anatomy. I even began to notice that he would occasionally appear to instigate some minor conflict so as to provoke my use of ‘the word’, and I concluded quickly that I had to do something to counter this. These were not meant to be predominantly pleasurable moments for him, even as they did fill an important need … for both of us.
While Drew had an undeniable hunger to worship my feet, they were unquestionably most desirable to him when they were bare. He was much less enamored with them when they were encased in footwear, except possibly to gaze upon. So I started to make sure that for almost all of my time outside of the bedroom, and especially when I made him go ‘down’, I was wearing either slippers, shoes, or even sneakers. This seemed to serve nicely to temper any further attempts on his part to prompt confrontations. But as these were his only opportunities to experience his obsession, even in this less for him optimum way, it still was enough to spur his compliance when I needed it so.
Once I was secure that Drew had become accepting and conditioned at this first and basic level it became time to proceed on to an even more important point … to impose my will over something he far more strongly cared about. I knew that I would have to choose this initial, more serious ‘bone of contention’ very carefully so as not to jeopardize what I had achieved so far. But I had to make this leap or lose it all to irrelevancy.
Like far too many men my husband is a sports freak. He can watch almost any game in almost any sport, and all too often does. It’s not that I begrudge him his interest and enjoyment of these events. It’s more that I have none. I just have never seen the point. So it can frequently become quite annoying and frustrating that all the countless hours he spends on them is time unavailable to spend with me. And it was a battle that I had never been able to contest.