She sat across the peninsula bar of their modern kitchen, sipping the coffee he had made for her. He always made her coffee. Coffee was a ritual for him. He was an early riser and greatly cherished his quiet mornings being the only one awake in the house. He ground his gourmet beans in a ceramic cone grinder, not one of those crappy blade grinders that make powder no matter what you do. He had a kettle with temperature adjustment for that perfect steep, 190°F for 4 minutes. He liked the ritual of it all just as much as he savored the flavors.
The timer on the microwave beeped, Russ turned it off, moved over to the French press, and pushed down the plunger, depressing the coarsely ground coffee to the bottom of the device.
"I understand the performance anxiety. It's what kept me away from most women. Before my stint in the military, I'd only had three lovers," he said as he poured the coffee into his cup.
"You only had three lovers before you were 29? So only me and two others?" She looked very amazed.
"Yeah, and only a handful of sexual encounters between them all. Like I literally only had sex about 10 times before I enlisted." He poured cream into his coffee. "I was just scared to death of not being able to perform, or my dick not being enough, or whatever. So I just avoided girls who showed interest, unless they chased me down like you did. You always say I chased you for years, and I did, but you started this." He smiled at her before taking a sip of his coffee.
She giggled, "I only showed a little interest because you were so funny and smart; and hot." She held the cup in both hands as she slipped from her giant mug.
"Showed interest? If I remember correctly, you grabbed me by the dick and gave me a passionate kiss the first time we were alone together. You pretty much owned me from that day on whether you knew it or not," he scoffed.
"So I was a little aggressive when I was young," she giggled over the cup.
"And where did that go? You have definitely settled comfortably into the role of the submissive wife. You basically let me make all the decisions. Can you find that aggressive young woman again? Let her out to play in the bedroom?" He grinned broadly.
"Oh, trust me, she's still in me," she chuckled. "I'm just afraid you won't like her as much as you claim and I don't want to ruin this, we have such a great marriage." The sincerity of her concern showed on her face. He sat his cup down and came around the bar to her. She sat her cup down as well and stood up from the stool to meet him. He took her in his arms and buried his face in her neck, taking in a deep breath of her hair and neck as he caressed her back from shoulders to ass.
"It's just a game, a game we can stop at any time. I don't want to fuck this up either, that's why I wanted it to stay in the bedroom. I have no desire to be humiliated in public, I just want to be a slave to the object of my desire, and that's you my love," he whispered into her neck as he laid delicate kisses on her soft skin. He pulled back enough to look her in the eyes, but still held her in his arms.
"You don't have to be an angry bitch. Like that story I showed you with the two girls. The dominant girl is mean as fuck, but she's not mad and she laughs and teases her submissive for the most part. She gets off on power and control as much as physical contact." He kissed her lightly on the lips, and released her.
"I know you've got it in you, you did it the other night when you pulled on my balls, I asked you to stop, and you pulled harder and demanded I beg, so I did, but you didn't like the way I addressed you, so you pulled harder and demanded I call you goddess," he said as he walked back around the bar to clean out the French press. Partway around the bar he grabbed his crotch and squeezed.
"Just thinking about that moment makes my dick throb," he chuckled.
"I liked doing it. I liked the feeling of control, and that scares me. What if I really like this and you decide you don't. You'll start hating me." The concern was obvious on her face.
"No. I don't believe that's a possibility. We have never had a problem we couldn't overcome, and we've worked through some truly tough shit. This is just a sex game, and even if I decide I don't want this and you do, I'm betting we can find a compromise that'll keep us both happy. We always have in the past, why should sex be different," he asked.
The concern faded from her face as he spoke.
"I think our relationship is too strong to be broken over how we like to fuck each other," he laughed as he rinsed the press in the sink.
"So if I decide I like fucking you up the ass with a strap-on, you're gonna be ok with that even tho you don't like me sticking a finger in your butt," she quietly asked, rather sarcastically.
"Maybe if you fucked me up the ass everyday, I'd learn to love it," he laughed, unable to finish the statement without laughing.
"Keep it down" she said in a hushed tone. "The kids might be awake and your voice carries."
He snickered, and sipped his coffee.
"They never get up before 9," he declared, checking the clock. It was only 7:45 and he was sure their conversation was free of young ears.
"Let's go play with this." He sat his coffee down and shook his semi erect cock at her before turning and walking towards the bedroom door.
"Oh." She smiled, sat her coffee on the bar, and headed toward the bedroom too.
He headed past the bedroom and into the master bath, removing his clothes as he went. The master bath has a double vanity with a long wall opposite. He laid a thick bath mat on the floor next to the wall, and then laid down faceup on it, with his head and upper body on the mat.
She closed and locked the door as she entered the bedroom. When she turned around, he was already naked, moving one of the thick bath mats next to the wall and laying down on it.
"What are you doing," she asked, obviously confused.
