"What do you want to do for dinner?" Sheph asked, running her big toe across my pussy, to get my attention.
It was your typical Friday night at the Cross-Langston household (when we got married we decided on hyphenating our last names. We settled on my last name first and hers second, because the other way sounded too much like a town in England.) Also typical that night, Steph was sprawled out on most of the couch, going over files from work in her UCLA Swimming t-shirt and a pair of shorts. While I was in my usual state, naked on my right hip, with the right side of my body propped up on the armrest. Steph had been using my left hip as an ottoman.
And yes, she did get my attention.
"Well, being I'm not exactly dressed to go out," I said in mock exasperation. "And I just don't have a thing to wear, how about Bruno's delivery?"
"It's 5:00 on Friday night, if we order now, we'll be lucky to be eating by 8:00."
"Oh yee of little faith," I laughed reaching for my laptop.
I brought up Bruno's website and put in our orders.
"It will be here by 6:00," I said triumphantly as I closed my laptop.
"No way," she said in a surfer tone.
"Way, dude! It's kind of bogus that after 26 years of friendship and a little over one year of me being your totally bitchin wife, you'd have such gnarly doubts. That really harshes my high, bro." I fired back.
"Alright, my love, how about a bet? Food shows up at 6:01 or later, you're going with me to the Kahlo exhibit tomorrow, without complaining."
I hate art museums, especially on a Saturday, when I could be riding my bike.
"Okay and if I win," I agreed. "I get to buy that bike I showed you the other day, without you complaining."
"Not much of a bet," she laughed.
"How so?"
"Well, my love, after 27 years together, I know you far better than you think I know you."
"Explain."
"I know good and well, that if I got up and went to the garage, I would see amidst the 30 other bikes you absolutely had to have, hidden..Not too hidden like you were really hiding it from me, but more blended in with the rest of the herd, that same bright yellow Asti Spumoni or whatever it was."
"Oh really?" I had to fake the indignant tone, because she was right.
"You know it. Then when I confront you, you're going to do what you always do."
"What's that?"
"'Stephanie'...you'll start because the only time you use my full name is when you're caught at something and after we've had sex. Then you'll run your hand over your right boob, because you think it distracts and disarms me...Which truth be told it usually does. 'It's like this, it's a really limited edition Asti Spumoni with a special paint, mixed only in the Italian Alps mixed with the sweat from Eddy Somebody or Others taint. The unbelievable thing is, this one is the perfect size for me, it's like the Cycling Gods wanted me to have it."
She finished by cupping her boobs and thrusting them out towards me.
"I don't do that," I corrected her.
"Really?"
"Well maybe a little and yes the rest of it wasn't too far from the truth. I know I have a problem," I said in mock sincerity. "I heard there was a rehab in southern France that you can go to and find a cure."
"Does this rehab involve long bike rides? People in spandex? The guys shave their legs? It's sponsored by bicycle company?"
I nodded.
"That's a cycling camp and no you're not going. Your life is a cycling camp."
She had me there.
To explain, my dear wife is a lawyer. She's one of those "Oh Shit!" lawyers. The kind where when opposing counsel hears they're going up against her, the first thing out of their mouths is "Oh Shit!"
When Steph and I got married, I had a good job. Not a great one, but I made decent money. Well the short version is, when word got out that I got married over that weekend, they were happy for me. When they found out I married a woman, they fired me. We brought a suit. They made me an offer. I told them who my lawyer was, they doubled it. Everything worked out find, I found another job that let me work at home, it was project based so I made my own hours, which gave me plenty of time for bicycling, tanning and occasionally, playing with myself when I get bored.
"Come to think of it, it really is. It's good to marry well."
I went back to my reading and she went back to her files, with her feet in my lap every once in a while, she would brush her toes across my nipples. Each time she touched them sent tingles through my boobs.
It didn't take long for my attempt at reading to become futile. I set down my book and took one of her feet in my hands. At a size 11, her feet were on the large side, with long graceful toes. Due in part to my budding foot fetish, they were buttery soft due to the almost nightly foot massages. Her nails were always polished and primped. That night they were a deep blue.
I planted kisses on each toe. Then starting with her pinkie toe, I licked and kissed my way through them. When I got to her big toe I licked the tip of it a few times before wrapping my lips around it and slowly working my way down, swirling my tongue around it.
"MMMM," she moaned. "I really love that."
I bobbed my head up and down her big toe a few more times. My clit was swelling with each stroke.
I had just started licking the soles of her feet when the doorbell rang....A glance at the clock told me it was the sound of victory!
It read; 5:53
"Food's here," I announced and jumped up to get the door.
Ignoring the beach cover up that I kept by the front door, I answered it. As I expected, there was Mr. Bruno himself, delivering our dinner.
"Maddie," gushed Mr. Bruno, his eyes scanning me from head to toe. "It's always a pleasure to see you."
"It's always a pleasure to be seen by you," I replied, catching myself running my hand down my boob like Steph called me out on earlier.
"How is your lovely wife?" he asked.
"She is fine," I answered, crossing my arms under my boobs for him. "How is Marie doing?"
"She is very good."
I took the food, gave him a hug and he left.
