My pathetic, semi-erect, four inch cock dribbled the last of my orgasm onto the bed sheets as I knelt on all fours. My wife rolled off the bed laughing.
"I've just got to get a picture of this!" She squealed, getting the digital camera off the dresser.
I must've looked quite a site kneeling there in that state with a pair of her pantyhose on, with a cyberskin dildo in my ass, and a small bell wrapped around my cock and balls. I looked at her as she snapped pictures laughing the whole time and wondered how I had gotten into this. Who was I kidding? I knew exactly how I got to this point in my life.
"That's great Tinkerbelle!" She laughed. "Now come on out in the other room, I need a foot massage."
I got off the bed, put my cock back in the pantyhose and followed her into the living room where she flopped on the sofa and put her feet on the ottoman. Without being told, I knelt and took the lotion from the end table and began to massage her feet. My mind kept going back to how all this had started.
Kristi and I were high school sweethearts and married soon after. I was always submissive to her and even on our wedding night made a feeble attempt to make love to her before my tiny penis erupted as I slid it inside her. After that our lovemaking was mostly me using my fingers or tongue. And so our life went on for the next twenty years.
And then, suddenly last year, Kristi joined a health club to lose some weight. It was then that I saw a dramatic change in her. She is what I would call a rubenesque woman, and very pretty. She dropped about twenty pounds, dyed her hair blonde, started visiting the tanning salon regularly and started dressing a bit more provocatively.
I on the other hand, resigned myself to the couch, television and potato chips. I packed about two hundred and forty pounds on to my five foot nine frame, and yes I had a gut. It seemed while I was gaining weight, Kristi was losing it and getting a great deal of male attention everywhere we went. She seemed to like it and became more daring in her outfits.
Then one day she came home from the gym, tossed her bag in the corner and took a seat at the kitchen counter and sipped a water. The sweat gleaned off her neck as a tiny bead ran down between her ample breasts and disappeared in her black leotard. "Honey, you remember Mark (last name deleted) that we went to high school with?"
How could I not. During the whole time we went out together in high school, we broke up once and Kristi had dated Mark. He was the high school jock extraordinaire, quarterback of the football team, baseball player that all the girls were after. Kristi and he dated for awhile until we ended up getting back together, but she would always bring him up as, "my old boyfriend."
I stared at her and said, "You mean your old boyfriend Mark?"
She laughed a mischievous laugh, "Oh yeah that one. Well I ran into him today at the gym. He just moved back into the area and joined the gym."
I grunted. "Oh, how's he doing?"
"He hasn't changed a bit!" she cooed, like a schoolgirl.
"Great" was all I could muster for a reply.
For the next two weeks every night when she came home from the gym it was Mark this and Mark that. It got so I could barely stand it anymore, but I knew that I didn't have much choice, Kristi was beautiful and I didn't want to lose her to Mark again at any cost.
One Tuesday night she came bouncing in the door like she had won the lottery. "Hi honey, I'm home! Mark and I went out for a drink after our workout. Oh my God, he is so funny, he makes me laugh!"
I felt like dying inside, but all I could do was sit and listen as she went on and on about him. She showered and we went to bed and I began to get frisky. She told me she really wasn't in the mood and that she was tired. I acquiesced and rolled over and went to sleep. The next night she called to tell me that Mark had invited her out to dinner and that she wouldn't be home till later. I was seething inside but called and ordered a pizza. At about eleven o'clock that night she came home and flopped down on the sofa. I noticed that she had changed from her workout clothes but was still wearing a leotard, except for the fact that she wasn't wearing a bra. Again, I had to sit and listen to how funny, cute, sexy, bright, Mark was, while she put her feet in my lap and told me to massage them as they were tired from dancing.
"Dancing! You two went dancing!" It was as if something had broken inside. I started yelling at her about Mark and going out with him. Then something happened that changed my life forever; she hit me. Slapped me right across the face! I was stunned and shocked and didn't quite know what to do until she spoke.
"Listen honey, Mark is my friend and if I want to go out to dinner or dancing with him I will! Just because you choose to be a couch potato and do nothing and I've chosen to take control of my life and make some changes for the better, you're certainly not going to tell me what I can and cannot do who I can or cannot do it with!" With that, she turned and went upstairs to bed. I sat there for awhile and found myself beginning to cry. Finally I found myself sobbing. I pulled myself up the stairs and sat on the edge of the bed. I begged her forgiveness and told her that I was just afraid of losing her. After a considerable amount of time with me begging and pleading forgiveness, she relented but said there would be some changes in our household and in our relationship. For one, she would do whatever she pleased with whomever she pleased and if I didn't like it I could leave. She told me that she loved me but that she loved herself and the things she was doing were for her not me. I could do little more than whimper and agree.