AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And so he repeats the process at the same ceremonial pace.
“There’s something so erotic about this, when you’re wearing nothing but stockings. They frame your…charms…so perfectly. See for yourself.”
Suddenly self-conscious, I reluctantly open my eyes. But Julian is right. There is something particularly wanton about the vision of my white thighs and exposed mons, lush with auburn curls, floating above the virginal stockings.
“Look how your legs shimmer. The limbs of a goddess.”
My long, slim legs have always gotten me compliments, but Julian’s appreciation is as close as I’ve gotten to sheer worship. Over the years, I’ve grown to like it very much indeed.
“Would you like a foot massage? To help you relax?” Julian’s smile is the perfect blend of deference and mischief. We both know his “massage” is likely to have quite the opposite effect.
Without waiting for a reply, he wraps his large, warm hand around my right foot and begins to probe the tight spots along the arch with his thumb. Julian’s studied up on reflexology—very fitting given his proclivities—and at first his technique does lull me into a dreamy state. Stretched out indolently on the bed, a memory floats into my head, of a Chinese film we saw years ago. It was about a wealthy man with four wives. The wife chosen for his amorous attentions each night was honored with a red lantern at her door and a special foot massage, because the jaded master believed it helped a woman “better serve her man.” The movie was darkly claustrophobic and had a tragic ending, and yet when Julian and I got home from the theater, we went straight to bed and made love. Soon after that, he offered to massage my feet before we had sex—with a surprising, but much happier, ending.
Julian now pulls my left foot onto his lap.
I tense up instinctively.
Julian clicks his tongue. “Relax, darling. I just want to make you feel good.”
Is there such a thing as “too good”?
He starts in on the ball of my foot, circling firmly over the flesh with the pad of his thumb. This is, in itself, harmless, but my body knows what’s coming. When his fingers move to my arch to knead the tight muscle along the edge of my foot, a jolt of pleasure shoots straight to my groin. My vagina reflexively pushes out. A gush of arousal trickles down onto my robe.
I moan, half in shame, half in delight.
“Enjoying this?” he asks.
Not that I can answer with Julian stimulating my sweet spot so mercilessly. Through the veil of my lashes, I notice that my chest is flushed with a rosy sex rash and my nipples are as hard as pebbles. A fiery rope of pleasure twists from his fingers up along my inner leg to feed the throbbing knot deep in my cunt.
“Still works like a charm, doesn’t it?”
“Please stop now. I might come, and I want you inside me.” Desperate in my need, I brush my foot over his crotch. He’s rock hard and probably has been for some time.
Julian chuckles and shifts away. “Patience. First we need to put on your magic slippers.” He reaches for the marabou mules and slides them carefully onto my feet.
This new stimulation is less dangerous, but equally cunning. Julian once observed that the slippers mold my feet into the same strained position they assume when I have an orgasm. Indeed when I press my foot against the unnaturally steep curve of the sole, my pussy aches in anticipation. Sometimes Julian makes love to me as soon as the slippers are in place, but I can never be sure which route we’ll take on any given night. This time, to my surprise, he deftly slips off the bed and kneels at my feet.
“The slippers make your legs look so feminine and elegant. Like a dream. I’m almost afraid to touch you now.”
I take my cue and sit a little higher against the pillows. “What about your lips? You could show your appreciation by kissing the stockings from toe to top.”
His eyes flicker.
“But no slobbering,” I add regally. “These are expensive.”
“Yes, I’ll be careful.” His voice is hoarse, slightly winded. As if in a trance, he takes my foot and presses his lips to my toes, then the arch, then the ankle.
I tilt my head back and focus on his soft mouth moving slowly but inexorably up my leg. Soon he has to crawl back up on the bed on all fours, his head lowered as if kowtowing to my heavenly legs. The adoration fills me with a heady rush of power. Am I really so enchanting I can bring a man to his knees?
When he reaches the top of the stockings, Julian pauses. I feel his hot breath against my thigh. A question hovers in the air between us.
“You may proceed,” I say.
Exhaling in a grateful sigh, Julian’s lips cross the border from silk to bare flesh. In this earthier realm, the rules apparently change. His kisses grow wetter until he’s shamelessly caressing my naked thighs with his tongue. I pull my knees up and open, thinking, perversely, of the gate of a monumental temple on the banks of the Nile. Julian positions himself at the entrance to my “pink satin palace”—as he likes to call it on our Silk Road travels. He places a few decorous kisses of greeting on my nether lips. Then his tongue darts out and flicks my clitoris.
I clutch the top of the pillows, opening myself farther to him. My husband flirts with the sensitive nub of flesh, but soon he is lashing it greedily until I’m squirming and juicing all over his face.
“Do it, goddamn it, fuck me,” I growl.
