My wife Denise is very pretty with perfect hazel eyes, giant tits with dark, saucer-sized nipples, wide hips, thick thighs and stands more than 5 inches taller than me when she's barefoot. When looking at photographs of my mother when she was a few years younger, there are striking similarities between the two of them. After meeting my mom for the first time, she knew I had a bit of a 'mommy complex' and she asked me about it constantly. Before long she instigated our special taboo roleplay, which I enjoyed far more than I like to admit. If the moisture between her thighs was any indication, she enjoyed it just as much as I did.
Over time and after indulging in our roleplay several times each week, the entire balance in our marriage shifted. At the beginning of our marriage, we discussed issues of concern openly. A few months into our marriage and shortly after one of my mother's visits, Denise began making those decisions on her own. I really didn't mind. She was the breadwinner in our household anyway. It seemed like the natural thing to happen.
She didn't miss the fact of how willingly I slipped into a role in our marriage where I made very few decisions. We talked about it a few times and I had difficulty explaining why it happened. She soon began making 'suggestions' throughout our normal lives. I think she was testing me to see how far I would go. I knew what she was doing and completed each of her 'suggestions' with a smile. No matter if she 'suggested' I clean up the kitchen or if it was to go to the men's room in a restaurant we were eating at, removing my underpants and bringing them back to her at the table. I always did it with a smile and sometimes a deep blush.
As our roleplay grew out of our bedroom and into our day to day lives, Denise began doing things my mother did for when I lived with her. She began choosing what I would wear each day. She scolded me when I said a curse word. A list of my chores appeared on the refrigerator one morning. The debit card disappeared from my wallet and I began receiving an allowance based on how well I completed my chores. If I ran out of money before allowance was due to be paid, I had to (literally) beg her for more. Of course, my next allowance would be reduced by whatever I'd borrowed.
Denise teased me constantly when my mother came to visit. She embarrassed me every chance she got. She scolded me if I happened to say a curse word, right there in front of my mom. She did things like backing me against our bedroom wall, undoing my pants and taking my penis in her hand. She would ask me what I thought my mom would do if I were to walk out to her naked. She insisted on cutting up any meat that was served to me at a meal, telling my mom that I struggled when using a knife. She had me call her mommy whenever my mother was out of the room. And had me eat her to orgasm each and every night. While I was left unfulfilled and forbidden to masturbate.
Twice a year my wife needed to travel across the country for her work. Those trips usually lasted two weeks. The morning before she left on her most recent trip, she handed me the envelope with my allowance money for both weeks. But also inside this envelope, there was also a letter. The letter 'suggested' I go without a single orgasm until she returned. I could masturbate all I liked, but I shouldn't let myself cum, not even once. The note also told me exactly how she wanted me to present myself upon her return. I was to remove my body hair except for a small triangle of short pubic hair pointing down, or completely smooth if I messed up. I was also to be sitting naked on the stairs right beyond our front door. So when she entered our home, I'd be the first thing she'd see.
During my first week alone, I tried to keep myself occupied to keep my mind off not being able to cum for two weeks. But my mind was never allowed to wander for long. She called me at least three times a day and whispered words into the phone she knew would make me horny. Before saying 'goodbye', she always encouraged me to strip down and rub myself. But she also made me promise not to cum without her. By the end of the first week, I was going insane with desire. I was a walking erection. I couldn't get sex off my mind. I'd never needed to cum so badly.
The second week was sheer torture. Her emails, phone calls, and texts were keeping me constantly aroused. But somehow I made it through the entire 14 days with spilling a single drop of cum. She told me oozing precum didn't count.
The day she was due to finally arrive home, I was awoken with a call from her. She wanted to remind me about the note, and how I should present myself for her return home. I began with a long hot bath and struggled not to 'touch' too much as I washed carefully. Removing my body hair was its own adventure. When I tackled my pubic area, I nicked my scrotum and think I actually screamed. For the first time in days, I wasn't wildly horny. I tried, I really, really tried to form a triangle pointing down. But there was no way I could make it happen. So, by the end of my bath, I was completely smooth from my eyelashes down, I had a half a dozen small squares of toilet paper sticking to various parts of my body trying to stop the bleeding and the tub was full of little bits of hair. Not to mention I was considering making a run to the emergency room to make sure I didn't need stitches in my scrotum. But it eventually stopped bleeding and really wasn't that noticeable after it did. It had taken me three times as long as I thought it would and I kept finding myself in the most unusual positions trying to get every single hair. In the end, I'd gone through a package and a half of her pink disposable razors and a can and a half of her feminine shaving cream.
Looking in the full-length mirror behind the bathroom door was a shock. I'd always heard that shaving your pubic hair would make your penis look bigger. It's a lie. It definitely didn't look bigger, if anything it looked smaller. I had always been kind of proud of my almost 4" long penis. But now, even hard, it looked like a pinky finger pointing out of my groin.
The image of myself in the mirror stuck in my mind until later that afternoon when I stripped naked and perched myself on the stairs. I took my appointed seat 20 minutes after she was due to land. At that moment she should be walking to the car in the lot. With 5 minutes to get out of the lot and a 25-minute drive home, I had a half an hour to tease myself into a frenzy before she opened that door. I sat there, barely touching my rigid penis, watching the juices ooze down its length. Thankful that the desperation and waiting would finally come to an end. It was quite unnerving to be sitting right in front of a door, in my condition, knowing that the door would fly wide open soon. I jumped each time I heard a car approach the house.
When her car finally did pull into the driveway, I nearly squirted at the sound of it. I leaned back on my elbows on the step behind me, spread my legs as wide as the staircase would allow and tried to look as sexy as possible. The core of my body ached for her to walk through that door. I listened closely for the car door to close, but my concentration was interrupted by a garbage truck or something passing by our home. I struggled with all my might to hear a sound from her, but there was only the noise of the truck out there. I was really tempted to run upstairs and throw my clothes back on. But using every ounce of my courage, I remained right where I had been told. When her key hit the lock I nearly had a heart attack. Juices were freely running down my penis. I was literally shaking with excitement.
As the door was flying open, goose-bumps rose all over my body, I threw my arms into the air and squealed, "Welcome home!"
There stood the love of my life, but she was different. While standing in the doorway, it was definitely Denise, I would know her anywhere. But she looked more like my mother than ever before. While she was away, she had had her hair cut, dyed and styled to perfectly match my 'younger' mother from the photo albums. She was stunning. She was nearly an exact duplicate of my mother and I was amazed. Even the dress and shoes she wore looked like they popped out of those albums. The only difference in the dress was the neckline, the dress Denise wore left far more of her cleavage exposed than my mother ever would. It was while I stared at her massive cleavage that I realized her wedding ring was dangling from a chain around her neck.
When she set her suitcases down and held her arms open, I jumped up and ran to her. Burying my face in her cleavage, my nose against the ring I'd once slipped on her finger. She rubbed my naked back and told me how glad she was that she was home. My voice muffled from talking into her boobs, I told her I was glad she was home too. I told her she looked gorgeous. And I told her I loved her.
She gently pulled me away from her boobs, and while laying her hands on my shoulders and pressing downward, she said, "Why don't you give mommy a proper Welcome Home kiss?"
