The Companion

Our marriage flourished even as it changed. We didn't have any long discussions about John because I didn't pursue them. I didn't probe because I knew it would make her defensive and because I concluded it didn't matter. What they did on their time was their time. When she was with me her focus was on me.

She often told me how much she loved me and more importantly how much she felt loved by me. She also frequently asked me if I felt neglected. I assured her I didn't.

She said, "Good, because that's the last thing I want. You've given me such a gift it would be selfish of me to neglect you."

These question and answer sessions almost always occurred at the end of our Saturday night dates. With my cock smeared with lubricant as she jacked me with one hand and fingered my ass with the other I damn sure didn't feel neglected. I knew none of our friends were having these kind of intimate moments.

She had become even more skilled at fucking my ass using her fingers and at edging me. She would talk about what she was doing and my body's reaction and make me tell her how good it felt and what would make it feel even better. At times it felt like I imagined how a sex therapy session would take place. I had never been very directive in bed, but became more so giving her direction as to what felt best. In return she did the same for me.

I asked her what I could do to make her feel even better. She said the way I employed my hands and mouth on her were perfect. She said I knew how to mix things up.

We were cuddling one night and I asked her to tell me what turned her on. By this point I knew she had a fetish watching me lick my ejaculate from her fingers or breasts. What I didn't know was this was just the tip of the iceberg. There was a whole lot of kink below the waterline.

"Do you really want to know?" she asked as her eyes probed mine. I assured her I did.

She said, "I'm going to need a glass of wine to relax me."

I offered to get us each a glass.

She said, "Not you, just me. You are plenty relaxed. Besides, I want you completely sober. Now go get me a glass. The Chardonnay."

I got out of bed and did as she asked feeling a bit of a sexual buzz as I carried her glass of wine.

"For my lady," I said as I handed her the glass and bowed.

She was sitting up in bed, her back resting against the headboard. I couldn't help but notice her nipples were erect and her face a bit flush.

She took a sip then answered, "Thank you, but next time I'd prefer it if you curtsy."

I thought she was joking and even did a curtsy.

She said, "That's much better, but your back foot should be a little more behind you, and your bend at the knees less deep and your bend at the waist begins at the waist and not at the chest."

Shocked by what I was hearing and feeling very red in the face I couldn't think of anything witty or sarcastic so I asked, "Anything else?"

She answered, "Yes, there is. I think you should address me as Mistress Sylvia."

I did not see this coming and was unprepared for this revelation. I really thought it was a game and played along referring to her as Mistress Sylvia.

I stood there as she sipped her wine.

"May I sit Mistress Sylvia?"

"In a few minutes. Right now I'm enjoying the view. Turn around, but slowly."

I did feeling my penis come to life.

"You have a very nice body Frank, but you could use some work."

"Thank you Mistress Sylvia," proud of myself for remembering to call her Mistress Sylvia and for the praise she was heaping on my physique.

I decided to repay her compliment and said, "Not nearly as nice as yours Mistress Sylvia."

She chuckled then took several swallows of her drink. Her arousal, embarrassment, and the wine were making her face and chest flush bright red.

She looked unsure of how to proceed.

She took another big gulp and finished her glass.

She said, "This is so embarrassing. Maybe it would be easier if I was standing up."

She extended her hand. I helped her get out of bed wondering what the hell was going on.

She and I stood facing each other. She said, "I can't really look you in the eye with what I'm about to tell you."

I assured her it couldn't be that shocking.

She took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. It looked as though she was reminding herself to follow a script she had memorized because the first thing she did was grab my three quarters erect penis and tell me, "You know this is mine."

"I do," adding, "Mistress Sylvia."

"As my property I control it and because it's an extension of you I control you."

She was warming up.

"What I'm about to say will be easier if you are on your knees."

I dropped to my knees. I stared at her vulva. I fought the temptation to press my face against her sex and to begin licking and kissing it.

I knew what she was doing wasn't easy and out of love, admiration, and my own sexual curiosity, took the moment seriously.

"Frank, look up," she said while grabbing my hair to make her point.

My neck was uncomfortably arched as her grip was strong. I focused on her eyes, but couldn't help notice her breasts. I thought she has quite the rack for a woman of any age. Her upper chest remained flush as did her face.

She said, "I want to dominate you. I've fantasized about it for years. From the time you wake up until you go to sleep I want you to serve me."

I answered her with, "Okay."

She pulled on my hair a bit harder.

"Okay, Mistress Sylvia."

She let go of my hair and said, "That was easier than I thought. You've never expressed a desire to be submissive so I didn't know how you would react."

"May I stand up Mistress Sylvia?"

"Yes, you may."

I stood up, my penis at full staff, and took her in my arms.

I looked her in the eye and said, "I agreed because it's important to you, like John is important to you, and your happiness has always come first. Who knows? I might really enjoy this. After all I do a lot around here. Now I'll be doing it for my Mistress."

She kissed me and pressed her body to mine. She could feel my cock poking against her. I never imagined erections would come so easy for a man my age and felt really blessed. She kissed me with more urgency. My hands dropped to her buttocks which I caressed.

When we stopped she said, "Frank, I'm really, really wet. I want you to go in me. Just be careful."

I told her we didn't have to, but she insisted she wanted to try.

We were back in bed and soon fucking, it felt so good to have her vagina enveloping my manhood. I did go slow. It was funny I thought how long it took me to climax courtesy of her hands and how quickly I came when we had intercourse.

She encouraged me to cum and it felt like I came a lot. I pulled out of her and we kissed and cuddled before she reminded me, "I'm really, really aroused Frank."

I took the hint and bypassed her breasts and went straight to her vagina where I experienced my first cream pie. From her reaction she really liked the idea of me cleaning her out as she called it.

We were both tired afterwards so I welcomed her suggestion that it was time for me to go to my bedroom. I kissed the bridge of her nose and said, "Yes, Mistress Sylvia. Good night."

I got into bed and lay there wondering how far she wanted to take this. I also wondered why I mentioned John's importance to her as we hadn't said a word about John in at least a week. I am not known to be so accommodating. I wondered what my friends and coworkers would think if they saw this side of me. How many of them lived a private life vastly different from their public one? My reference to John certainly hadn't upset her. If anything, it sparked in her the desire to be fucked. Was she thinking about him as I thrust in and out of her?

Sunday I made us breakfast. I even remembered to assume my role and asked her what she wanted me to prepare and after I served her if she wanted me to join her. She raised an eyebrow at my request and asked, "You're not making fun of me?"

I assured her I wasn't, but was unsure of what exactly she wanted me to do.

She said, "Of course I want you to have breakfast with me. We have a lot to talk about."

She seemed giddy, coming across as decades younger, reminding me of her younger self. She was the kid in the candy store overwhelmed by all the choices. She shared with me how long this desire to dominate me had burned inside of her and how in the past few months it had grown in urgency. I didn't mention it, but the urgency coincided with the time she and John began golfing together.

I asked her what she had in mind and she said, "Lots."

She squeezed my hand and said, "This is going to be so much fun."

I squeezed her hand back wondering what I had signed up for.

Breakfast over I remembered to ask if I could get up from the table. She said I could, but to get her a glass of orange juice.

I started to head to the refrigerator when she cleared her throat.

I immediately knew I had done something wrong and knew what it was, "Yes, Mistress Sylvia."

She smiled, "Much better. Don't make me have to punish you."

A knot formed in my throat as I wondered what she had in mind,

I poured her a glass of juice, brought it to her and remembered to ask if she needed anything else. She was already reading the Sunday newspaper. I thought she looked really cute wearing her cheaters.

She didn't look up, but said, "A foot massage would be nice."

I said, "What about the dishes?"

She answered, "They can wait. Right now my feet need your attention. And take off your pajamas. By the way, that's strike two."

I hurriedly stripped and got under the table where I sat on the cold tile and massaged each of her feet. With her feet in my lap she noticed my erection before I did. When she finished with the newspaper she told me, "You can stop now."

I got out from under the table feeling very stiff. The tile floor had been cold and hard. I had started out kneeling and ended up sitting cross legged. My knees and butt were sore. My hands and arms were tired from massaging her feet. My penis was semi hard which Sylvia immediately noticed.

She smiled, "I see you enjoyed yourself. Someone has a bit of a foot fetish. Don't deny it."

I tried to make light of it before admitting I do have an obsession with her feet.

She asked, "What other secrets are you keeping from me?"

The look on her face was playful, like a cat toying with a mouse I thought.

"Go get the hand lotion."

I walked over to the kitchen sink and brought the bottle over.

"Rub some on my feet."

I was back on my knees spreading the lotion all over her feet. My erection returned.

"I bet you wish you could have my toes wrapped around it."

"Huh?"

"Go on. Rub yourself against my feet. They are so soft right now."

She lifted one foot and rubbed it against my face.

"Put your cock between my feet Frank."

I held her feet together as I slowly rubbed against them.

She said, "You can cum on them, but you have to lick it up."

She looked as aroused as I felt.

We stared at each other as I fucked her feet. After two climaxes the previous night not much came out when I came, but it was enough for me to have to lick it up.

Afterwards she scooted to the edge of her chair and as I ate her she grabbed handfuls of my hair and ground her sex against my face. She came nearly as quickly as I had.

She commented, "Wow. I'm really liking Sundays."

The rest of the morning and afternoon were uneventful, but the conversation that evening was anything but. After making us dinner and cleaning up the kitchen I had stretched out on the couch to watch the game. Sylvia told me to make room and we laid on our sides on the couch. I draped my right arm over her torso. Her bottom was snug against my crotch.

After telling me how secure she felt being in my arms she said, "Frank, I want you to quit holding back. Just think of all the years you went without rubbing yourself against my feet."

I told her, "I held back because I didn't want you to think I'm some kind of weirdo."

"I would never think that Frank. Don't tell me now, but think about what you want, for next weekend."

I told her I would and promised to be more open with her.

Half time approached and I knew she would head upstairs as her workday started so early. I would head to my bed in the basement hours later.

I was feeling very relaxed when she said, "Frank, I have something to discuss with you."

My ears perked up and I even remembered to address her as Mistress Sylvia when I asked what she wanted to discuss.

She and I were facing in the same direction. I think it was easier for her to share with me what she wanted if she wasn't looking at me.

"I'm glad you remembered how I prefer you address me, You slipped up a few times earlier, but since you were such a good boy today I decided to give you a pass. What I'm about to ask is entirely up to you, but I want to remind you it was you who commented on how important John is to me. It's getting colder and I can only go to so many movies and I like dining out occasionally, just not all the time. Would it be okay if John and I hung out here? He'd be gone before you got home. I still have to go to bed early."

I wasn't ready to acknowledge the thousand pound gorilla, but I had suspected all summer Sylvia and John were doing more than golfing, watching movies, and sharing a meal. I had purposely not inquired about John. I didn't ask her anything about him. All I knew was he golfed and was widowed. His age, race, religion, looks, occupation, and family were all unknowns. I preferred to keep it that way.

My mouth felt dry. She rubbed her bottom against my crotch and took my hand and placed it on her breast.

She added, "John said I needed to ask. I'm more comfortable being in my house than his."

She didn't elaborate.

I toyed with her breast and rolled a very hard nipple which elicited a groan from her. She said, "If I wasn't so sore I'd have you go in me."

I was erect, but said, "I don't know if I can cum again. That would be four times."

"Are you getting old Frank?" she laughed.

We lay there for a few more minutes. She moved my hand to her other breast as her nipple was getting too sensitive. My cock wasn't getting any softer, but I felt no urgency to climax. It just felt good to be aroused. At my age I was thankful for any erection.

Moment of truth I thought. My erection had more to do with her question than it did with her buttocks pressed against my crotch. Worse, she knew it too.

All the times before there had been a tacit understanding of what I was agreeing to, especially when their activities included more than golfing. My answer would still be a tacit yes as was her question. Was she avoiding being blunt to spare my feelings? Her indirect approach made sense, but why did I feel obligated to imitate it? I decided it was twofold: to keep alive a false image of self I presented to her and those around me and to keep my jealousy at bay.

I did envy him and had for months, but Sylvia's focus on me during the weekends diminished those feelings, she really did a good job balancing her two men. The other reason was more complicated; I didn't want to admit I got a sexual and emotional thrill from their relationship, a relationship I could have read all wrong.

I answered her in two parts.

"I'm okay with him hanging around here at the house, Mistress Sylvia."

She thanked me before adding as an afterthought, "John thought you would be. He has cats and I don't like cats."

I almost laughed thinking to myself is that the reason she wants to be here, because he has cats, but didn't.

I squeezed her against me and gave her the second part of my answer, the answer that implied so much.

"He doesn't have to be gone when I get home. If I see his car, I'll just head to the basement."

In a flash she turned around and in between kisses and tears thanked me for being such a wonderful husband and friend. She told me several times she loved me and how I had no idea how happy I was making her by being so accommodating. She also told me I didn't have to head to the basement as it was my house too. I told her I would feel more comfortable staying out of their way at first.

She reached between us, unbuttoned my fly, and grabbing my very erect penis insisted I go in her. She pulled her panties to one side and we were soon fucking on our couch, something we had never done on that couch. She rubbed her clitoris as I thrust in and out of her. I came but a drop, but she literally flooded.

When I pulled out she said she was going to be so sore.

We lay together for a few minutes before she yawned and said it was getting late. She kissed me one last time before heading to her bedroom. I told her, "Goodnight Mistress Sylvia."

She answered with, "Very good, Frank. Keep it up and you won't get paddled."

She left and I tried to focus on the game but all I could think of was how I had just agreed to be cuckolded in my own house by a man I didn't even know. If they weren't already lovers they soon would be. Instead of extinguishing my desire I developed another erection.

My team won in overtime. I was now my wife's slave. I had four climaxes in one weekend and I had invited my wife's boyfriend to spend the night in my house. Hell of a weekend I thought before drifting off to sleep.

Each night I returned from work I looked to see a strange vehicle in my driveway, but there was none. I felt both relieved and disappointed, Nothing Sylvia communicated to me made any mention of John, I wondered if they were having a spat or if he was out of town. I did wake up to a list of honey-dos with fairly explicit instructions on what she wanted me to do, signed by Mistress Sylvia.

Day five was a Friday, a workday for me, but given my hours I wouldn't be home until Saturday. I ambled into the kitchen spotted the note she had on the countertop. I had to get my glasses to read it. Coffee percolating she had the usual list of chores for me, but then came the surprise. She wanted me to have dinner for she and John prepped and ready to go. All she would need to do is put it in the oven. To get me really into the spirit of things she had left me a pair of pink panties to wear as she was tired of seeing me in my tighty whities which she pointed out weren't so tight or white.

I traded my briefs for the panties, chucked them in the garbage can and in between sips of coffee started on the list of tasks. I had never worn women's underwear before but had to admit I liked the way they felt. It was the first time I sported an erection the entire time I was in the kitchen. I wanted what I made to be perfect for Sylvia and John. I set the table for two, used our best china and stemware, and even remembered to chill a bottle of Sylvia's favorite white.

I went to work still wearing the panties she had left for me.

When I got home there was no car in the driveway or parked in front of the house. I quietly entered the house as I didn't want to wake up Sylvia if she was asleep. The house was quiet. I took off my shoes and walked to her room. She was under the covers fast asleep. I looked at her and wondered if she and John had been fucking in our marital bed. I exited the room making sure to quietly close the door behind me.

It was after midnight and Friday nights were hit and miss, Sometimes Sylvia would be awake, but more often than not she would be asleep. Saturdays she liked to have an early start and get to the gym while I slept. I went into the kitchen and dining room and cleaned up after them. I imagined all sorts of scenarios. It was obvious from the blankets on the couch they had spent time there. They had also finished off the bottle of wine. In the refrigerator were leftovers. I heated a small portion of them and as I ate them wondered what John and Sylvia had done all evening. I was tempted to masturbate, but didn't because I liked to save my climaxes for my Saturday nights with Sylvia.