It was like a dream come true.
And the dream continued. Just five months later, he and Caroline Bond were married, and (he hoped) would live happily ever after.
Looking back on it, Richard realized it was a dream. The way they met, getting married, the perfect life he imagined he and Caroline having forever was indeed a dream.
It was a dream because you had to be asleep to believe it.
* * * * * * * * * *
They had been married almost seven months. It was almost a year to the day since Caroline Bond had entered his life and changed everything he thought, everything he desired, everything he knew.
It was a hot Saturday morning in June. He was sitting in the kitchen with a cup of coffee. The view out the windows was a beautiful vista of the swimming pool and the beach beyond. He ignored it.
A newspaper was open in front of him. He was staring at the pages but not reading any of it. His mind was preoccupied with thoughts of Caroline, a restless sleep, the familiar discomfort coming from his groin.
He heard the deck door slide open. In she walked, having just come back from a run. She wore a sports bra which did little to hide her ample cleavage, and the tightest pair of gym shorts that he had ever seen, that barely covered her round ass cheeks. Her blonde hair was tied tightly back, and she was covered in a sheen of sweat from her workout.
She didn't even look his way as she entered. She walked to the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water. She took a few deep swallows from the bottle, catching her breath. Richard just stared at her adoringly.
Finally, she turned towards him. She came over to the kitchen table and sat in the chair next to him. She faced him, spread her legs slightly, and put her sneaker-covered feet in his lap.
"I had a wonderful workout, Richie," she said to him. "Help me cool down, would you? I know it's your favorite thing."
He knew what she wanted, and it wasn't his favorite thing, but he would not--could not--refuse her. Wordlessly, he started to untie her sneakers. He slid them off her feet and placed them to the side of the chair. He then removed her damp socks and placed them on top of the shoes.
He then took her left foot, still damp with perspiration, and slowly started to lick the sweat off, from the heel up towards her toes. He closed his eyes as he inhaled her scent, a musky, dirty odor that he craved. He didn't stop licking until he had liberally covered the entire underside of her foot. Then he moved onto each of her toes, sucking them, licking between each toe. The dull ache in his crotch intensified. He squirmed in his seat.
He then proceeded to lick the top of her foot in the same fashion. Once her left foot was clean, he repeated the procedure, slowly, on her right foot. When he was done, he looked up at her, staring first at her chest, and then her eyes. She nodded at him, and he was immediately between her breasts, licking up every bead of sweat he could reach. She reached around the back of his head, holding him in there, almost suffocating him.
Finally, she released him, and then raised her arm, and he knew what was expected of him last. With only a short hesitation, he buried himself in it, worshipping the sweaty smell of her armpit. He was ravenous with his tongue, and she sighed contentedly.
Once he had finished licking the sweat from her pits, he sat back in his chair, red-faced and sweating. He looked and felt like he had just run a marathon himself.
"That's my good little hubby," she said, and she reached forward and quickly rubbed his dick, feeling the metal cage that now encased it.
She giggled at his anguished face, got up and walked out of the room, not even sparing a glance back at him.
A minute later, he heard the shower turn on. Caroline started to sing to herself.