Innocent Enough Pt 01

Recently divorced, I sought new lodging with a long time friend, Arnold. He and I decided to live the ultimate bachelor life and would form a life just to party, drink, and be whatever we decided we needed to be. Fast-forward about 2 years and he settles down with someone, they decide (to keep bills cheap) that we all move into a house together, so we do. Fast-forward another 6 years and we're all basically family. Me (Rhese), an intellectual, hard working, painfully single 33 year old man, living with my long time friend (Arnold: 35) and his now wife (Stephanie: 29).

Arnold and I, once inseparable, had drifted apart in previous years. He is an athletic narcissist, capable of love and friendship in his own twisted way. However, the years would show me that he was no longer a friend, just a roommate tolerable enough for me live with. A place to continue floating until I decide to take a leap into living on my own or until I find someone else worth living with. Arnold was busy, not as busy as he would like you to think, but he did keep a full schedule. Going to the gym, playing 4+ hours of video games a day, and work; meant that Stephanie and I are just naturally around each other.

Stephanie, twice as busy as she would have you think, was an angel from day one. A small, cute, voluptuous woman whom was bubbly and essentially "one of the boys". Also a hard worker, Stephanie was unstoppable, she set her mind to something and you could bet your ass that she would have it done in a week. Strong, kinda, polite, sexy, determined, the list could stretch for miles. Occasionally we would hang out and it was always platonic fun. Naturally, her being a 10 and tiers above my league, I did masturbate to her from time to time. But that, in my mind, was all we could and would ever be. We would bond over hobbies, television, cleaning, and just life in general. All of which was less than interesting to Arnold, a slob from birth.

The best description of Stephanie would have to be "she is a paragon". She is approximately 5'5" tall with a build that makes me quake as I begin to think of the perfect way to depict her. She has well kempt hair that is dyed natural colors frequently, she often uses this detangler spray that smells so heavenly that it caused an awkward moment between us at one point in our friendship. She has these deep and soft brown eyes that beacon you to adorn her with praise, although she frequently tells me she hates her eye color. Her face was framed perfectly atop her body, she had a slender yet muscular build, "slim-thick" as the children call it. Her breasts were just above small. Where, on a good day you could see her nipples poking through a loosened shirt. She had perky tits, something that always seems to be overlooked but never under appreciated.

Could you imagine being so fucking sexy that something as incredible as your boobs are an afterthought? She had tattoo sleeves and some other various works peppered throughout her body. Her hips were impeccable, rotund and breaming with sexuality from every possible angle. The front of her hips pointing mockingly to where I know she was hiding the most insane vagina I will ever hope to see in my life. When I tell you I CRAVE to taste, lick, and suffocate in Stephanie's perfect little tight creamy pink pussy, I'm understating it. I would often cum to the thought of lapping up her juices like they were owed to me. Then, to Her legs, man, her legs make you question god (if that's your thing). Sculpted of the softest and most velvety marble, she is an example of perfection. Finally, her feet, something you'll come to hear about a lot in this tale. Having a foot fetish, Egyptian-type feet are hard to come by, especially clean and readily visible feet. She had always been easy on the eyes, is what I'm saying.

Home life was less than exciting on an average day, the normal routine had become numbing. Arnold, being a textbook sociopath, had always had a crass way of dealing with his feelings and emotions: "everyone's fat..everyone's stupid..everyone is pathetic.." the list goes on. These extend to his roommates, Stephanie and I. I'm used to him, I can ignore him and play it off as a joke or just deflect until I'm blue in the face. Stephanie was tough as nails and seemingly took the insults on the chin too. On occasion, we would all go out and drink, play a game, or gather for some activity involving friends and in those moments life seemed to be going well.

After 8 years of knowing each other, being pals, and sharing a life, for some reason, I started to feel a deep and warm crawling over my brain around Stephanie. We had made a trip to a condo in early spring and for whatever reason, Stephanie became a goddess to me. She was at peace during the vacation and it just made her glow like you couldn't imagine. The way she smiled, the way she walked, the cute little way she loudly chewed her food. She became infallible, to me. It's at this moment that I start to notice just how much she takes care of my former friend and current roommate. Making him snacks at the snap of a finger, cleaning his snail trail of filth, and taking his bombardment of insults on the daily. The man doesn't even have the decency to thank her. This all culminating together with my new found infatuation would prove to be a troublesome endeavor for my psyche to handle.

Fast-forward once again to approximately 3 months ago. Being single for so long and not being a promiscuous person, I would go upwards of 8 months with no intimate touching. Anyway, Stephanie and I are sharing a seat on the couch while some mutual friends were visiting for a movie. As fate would have it, her and I were next to each other and I was as horny as a person could be. Arnold was at work. For whatever reason, something possessed me in that moment to decide to try and touch Stephanie's toes, not blatantly, but subtly. She had always had the perfect feet, small little perfectly pedicured toes, a round shape that descended from toe-to-toe.

Even before infatuation, I would've picked her feet from a line-up to describe exactly the perfect foot to turn me on. Stephanie is leaning against the arm of the couch, feet nestled under her perfect ass, enjoying the movie. So, I rest my hand upon my thigh in hopes that she'll make a slight adjustment and touch my hand. It happens, a small touch that could've not even been noticeable, if not for my heightened senses. My heart and dick are slightly off sync in a throb as I try to play it off like it's no big deal. We both retreat and re-situate for a time, until the night is over. I go to my room and cuss at myself, heart pounding and drilling a whole through my chest. "Why in the fuck would you do that!?" I would think to myself.

I began to imagine her asking me innocently for favors, always obliging. "Of course I'll take care of you" I would think. Which would morph into sexual fantasies the moment she would walk in my field of vision, her large, perfect, juicy ass. What I wouldn't give spend 5 seconds feeling it, a butt so perfect that porn can't even seem to get it right, Stephanie had. I would imagine her being horny and needing me, where I would tell her "no, you cum when I tell you to." And then begin to slowly tease her throughout the day. Walking up behind her doing dishes and gripping her neck to point her face back at mine, where I would see her face begin to change shade. The sink still running, I pull her away from the sink backwards, still positioned behind her, and begin to run my hand towards her perfect quivering pussy. Where I would stimulate her lips and softly tap her clit until she became wet. I would bring my wet fingers to her face and ask "who's are you" where she would reply, strained and red faced: "yours". I would then lick my fingers and loosen my grip, leaning my head down to kiss her softly, smack her ass, and let her continue her dishes.

That anxiety and imagination would turn into a game, an exciting and secret game that I could play to myself. In the coming weeks, I would become more comfortable with these mutual touches. Physical touch being a love language, I honestly did draw enjoyment from just touching her feet with my feet on the couch, legs resting against each other, innocent enough. But she had no idea of the storm she was causing in my hormones, the amount of arousal that she was thrusting into my balls, simply by existing. When Arnold and Stephanie were gone to work, I would sneak into their room to look for her panties. Something I was not at all familiar with, but my primal urge to "track" her was completely overwhelming. She hardly left a smell, ever. When she did, I would take them with me and try not to cum so quickly so I could savor the moment. I would breath deeply and massage my penis with deep intent, that it was all I could ever do to last more than 45 seconds. She was intoxicating, pure and utter bliss.

This bloomed images throughout my mind, situations where she may act. Obviously, this was preposterous. But it never hurt to think creatively. I would imagine us on the couch together, sitting next to one another with Arnold over in the corner of the room playing his video game, League of Legends, and completely oblivious. When she would suddenly adjust to get comfortable and place her foot on my penis. This would be hidden under the blankets and the only thing between her foot and my dick would be my thin boxers, subtly exposed because of the position my loose fitting robe. She would then begin to grab my shaft with her toes and feel my dick start to pulse beneath her toes. I look at Arnold, then look at Stephanie, her eyes are fixated on the television. She then manages to position them in a way that allows her to stroke with them, resulting in me cumming all over her feet. I'm not a person that has an embarrassment or shame kink, but with her. I'm powerless, the quickness of my ejaculation isn't a discussion. All she has to do is will the fluid from me.

Stephanie was such an innocent girl, so sweet and well mannered. I couldn't imagine her ever, and I mean EVER even thinking about me in any fashion other than friends. Until one, strange, random, and perfect night. We decided to open up to each other, on a level that I still cannot even begin to grip. To summarize the experience, she shared that she did sexualize me to some degree. She had agreed that there was sexual tension and that she had noticed me touching her.

This absolutely floored my hormones, blood rushing into my dick with a speed that I'll never experience again. As we spoke, I began to slowly drip my obsession of her to her in chewable bites. She spoke cryptically, saving herself from the torment of believing that she was doing something wrong by allowing these insignificant mutual touches. I begin to quake at the knowledge I'm receiving and stick my hand beneath our shared blanket and begin to slowly and subtly stroke my dick. Throughout the conversation, I last probably 2 mins and cum in my hand during the conversation. To my knowledge, she had no idea, and I played my "shakiness" off as nerves, which I DID have. Again, I would surrender to my room and curse myself for my actions. But lie awake in bed replaying the conversation over and over again in my head.

In my fantasies, she's submissive. I would come home from work and she would be waiting at the door on her knees. Where I would then smile, look down upon her stunning upward gaze and say "good girl" as I wrap my hand under her chin to let her rise up to me. Once standing, I would then clutch the nape of her hair, firmly but not painfully, in my fist and pull her head back to expose her neck. I nibble and kiss to the point right before a hickey. We then share a laugh, hug deeply, and exchange a peck kiss before retiring to the couch. She would be in a large shirt and her underwear, what I'm wearing isn't ever relevant.

I want to plop down on the end of the couch, and for her to climb on my lap with excitement, where I would caress her and stare at her with admiration. She would then lay on the couch and give me her legs, she knows I want them, she obeys. I then sensually massage her legs and feet, not to lead to anything sexual, just to share appreciation for her actions. This is my imagined world with Stephanie, worshipping her.

Another fantasy that plagues me, is along the same lines. Stephanie and I could be anywhere, doing anything, the only thing that's relevant, is that people are present. We'll say, we're at home for the sake of the picture. I would be hanging out with friends, she would be hanging out with her friends, all is well and normal. Until, we meet, alone in the hallway in passing. I push her firmly into the wall and whisper "I'm going back to the living room, bring me your panties" and then let go of her. She's obedient, she's a perfect pet, she's a good girl, so she does. I'm among company when she comes out and leans in to give me a kiss and tucks them out of view for me as she winks and returns to her friends, with no panties on under her shorts. I reach in my pocket to feel them still warm and slightly damp, where I find opportunities to bring them to my nose for a smell. In a perfect world, I wouldn't have to ask her. She would bring them to me randomly, leave them for me to discover, offerings of herself to me. She knows I'm intoxicated by her, she knows she is the one who possesses control. The power dynamic is palpable, that electricity is what fuels our little games and she loves the fact that I wouldn't dare waste my cum on someone else's image. She would be my god.

The new information we had come to share, my obsession, and my incessant lobito, drive me into a new realm of imagination. I had always wanted to sensually lick Stephanie's pussy, I want to drink her and savor every single millisecond of the time she would bless me with her. I have fantasized about her perfect legs wrapped around my head in more ways than can be imagined. It's safe to say, I've came more to Stephanie than any other person in my life, to-date. I felt married to her, I was hers. But the fantasy began to erupt to the point of needing to take action, this did not feel safe. Especially, since Stephanie really would never imagine cheating on Arnold. As much as she resented him, she was loyally tied to him in a way that's sickening to me.

Stephanie and I grew to have lovely conversations, secret dialogues that were ours and ours alone. I know I wouldn't dare even speak or even print these words if not for the cat and mouse dynamic we had splayed before ourselves. We spoke about things that weren't sexual, those moments were special. Special in a way that you can hear the music of someone's soul. She had never been treated the way she deserves, someone like her should be a pillar of lust, a monument of love that spills into the earth around her, flooding rooms with radiance.

I loved to get her talking about her feelings, her thoughts, her personality was 2nd only to her aura. However, when the tide DID turn to sexual discussion, it was all I could ever do to suppress my emotions. I would tiptoe around a truth and play my desires coy, trying to gauge some reaction from her, I couldn't. She's strong, stone, and impenetrable in both ways that I need. She gave me crumbs from time-to-time, letting me fill in the blanks and use my imagination. Which, of course, I appreciate; it was just never the words I needed to explode. "Rhese, you will taste me someday."

"I can't wait until you fuck me."

"Please, touch me. PLEASE."

The words she spoke instead were as hollow as they were full. "I have thought about us"

"Sometimes I have to remind myself I'm with Arnold"

Words that had pleasure and pain, twisted into a vine that finally started to bloom just before the autumn.

We are sitting next to each other on the couch, we platonically share a blanket. Stephanie is relaxing on her side; she's breathtaking in her comfortable clothes. A vacuum for lust, she's all any single person could ask for rolled into a little tight voluptuous perfect body. I become brave, I position my body in a manner to give my hand freedom to touch her feet. All I can think of is how much I want to kiss her, hold her head and tell her that there can't be someone more perfect in this world. I'd settle for lust, where I slowly begin to gesture that my hand will be touching her foot soon. My heart is beating like a jackhammer, my dick has swollen to the point that it almost aches. I think she knows I'm going to touch her?

Who could really know, she was stoic, she could be soaking through the couch and she would never tell me. That image was pleasant, to think that she was getting wet to the idea of my teasing myself to her feet. So I walk my fingers to her toes, slowly and gently tracing and tapping the tops of her feet. She doesn't move, how can I know if this is okay?? My mouth is dry, my heart is zooming, my dick is engorged. I begin to patter my fingertips as gentle as you could imagine and slowly begin to flitter atop her bare foot. I run my finger almost to a crawl, to position it along her toes where she gently gestures a squeeze upon my finger. OH MAN, I could've filled my pants with this gesture, she knows. She's alive in this moment too, so I think. My left had rests on my penis as I try to subtly coax myself into a drunken lust over these small details.

I think to myself "if this is her foot, I couldn't imagine being able to handle much more than this". The thought excites me, I'm so alive in this moment that time is racing through my brain backwards, the seconds and hours are one in the same. All that matters in this moment, is it his mutual understanding that we would tear each other apart. The excitement calms after a while, I remain erect but shift my focus to the connection. The lust will never die, the focus just took me to a place of harmony and peace. This was comfort, a small indication of what it was to feel wanted, appreciated, loved.. feelings I hadn't dealt with in a long time. It's special to me. After a while, she retires to bed, as do I. Once in my room, I feel strange and gross. I feel like I've pressured her into something uncomfortable, something that she may not want to do again. I then begin to think, what if this is only the first step? What if now things could slowly escalate?

Once my thoughts have calmed down, I know that it's time to unleash this energy. I pull up her photos online and begin to smile, infatuation is a hell of a drug. I'm completely stolen by her smile, Stephanie could walk into a funeral and make people forget they were in mourning. I pull down my boxers, take some lotion into my hand, and begin. My penis is never the main event, a respectable 6 inches and girth that's above average, circumcised, and a very welcoming shape. I put the cold lotion on my shaft and begin to imagine it's her hand, slowly and tediously massaging her cute hands in adoration. I picture us kissing and her leg thrown over mine for maximum skin-to-skin contact. I keep my eyes closed think of how special her touch is, how full my heart is, how much I need to taste her.

Drifting in and out of lucidity, I think of licking her pussy, a personal favorite. I bet that she gets to the point of dripping when she's aroused, I could imagine her swollen warm lips meeting mine. This makes the already sensitive head of my dick taut with vigor, I move my hand to the slippery tip and begin to picture rubbing the head up and down between the lips of her vagina with a firm pressure. Up and down repeatedly and thinking of pressuring my dick to enter her, but never quite going in, maybe some tapping on her clit, would she be into that? This makes me cum, my dick throbbing and pumping out the milky ecstasy as I imagine squeezing Stephanie and breathing face to face.

The next day, she's timid. As I write, I'm unsure of if my masturbation session was worth the feelings I had drummed up from my touching. I'll have to linger on in doubt until our next confession, I'll publish more when there are new adventures to write of.