Rebecca and Rob Pt. 02

My mind was racing as I drove back to Rob and Rebecca's house that night. Earlier that day, while working in their basement, I had discovered Rob naked, bound and deprived of his hearing and sight. My sexual impulses got the better of me, and I took advantage of the opportunity to live out a fantasy, without considering the risks. My cock stirred as I thought about the experience. My lacy pink panties strained as the shaft, bent downward and tucked as best I could, became engorged while my mind replayed the experience of dressing in Rebecca's lingerie and sucking Rob's amazing cock. As I continued down the road, my subconscious mind was crying out that what I had done, and what I was doing now, was insane and that I needed to stop and turn around before it was too late.

At this point, I of course didn't know about the security cameras. I'd already been caught running a sexual red light; I just hadn't gotten the summons yet. Logic insisted that Rob had to know that it was I who sucked his cock. And if he knew, wouldn't he tell Rebecca? Obviously, the two of them were deeply in love, and adventurous. That likely meant that they communicated openly. There was no doubt that Rob was placed in that position by Rebecca. What I couldn't figure out was whether I was meant to find him, and more seriously, whether my actions constituted a breach of their friendship. I had taken sexual advantage of Rob, but was it against his will? It didn't seem so at the time, but I was no longer sure. This night would clarify the situation.

I truly loved both of them. They alone had been with me in my dark days, when the engagement to my fiance ended swiftly and painfully. Without going too far down that rabbit hole, what happened was that we met, fell in love and got engaged in just over a year. We were compatible in so many ways, and I had never been happier. But my dark secret, my sexual submissiveness, remained undiscussed. Our bedroom antics were good, but not great, for me. The more I tried to "top from the bottom" and focus on pleasing her, the less interested in me she became. Finally, it spilled out. She admitted that she needed me to take charge in the bedroom, "like a real man," because being taken in that way was what really worked for her.

Stung by her rebuke, I should have gotten angry and given her the hard fucking she was asking for. Instead, I cried. I told her it wasn't in my nature to be that way. I told her how deeply I loved her, and that I would do anything to please her. I told her that if she sometimes needed a man (I didn't say another man, I said "a man") to satisfy those urges, that I would be ok with that. That remark opened up new lines of questions, and by the end of the conversation, I had told her of my bisexual urges, my submissive desires, and my cross-dressing habits. We were both crying now. We went to bed, and she had me go down on her. I worshiped her pussy with intensity, and she came several times, while I did not. It was perfect, for me, and I thought all was well.

However, the next day, she informed me that while she still loved me, she could not see herself spending the rest of her life married to a "sissy cocksucker." She needed a "real man." She moved out and never looked back. I was deeply wounded and felt the world ending around me. I stopped working, drank heavily, and fell apart. Life lost all purpose. I would have died had Rebecca and Rob not intervened. Their friendship and support were the primary reasons I survived. They helped me see the good parts of myself again. They never asked what happened, and I never confessed the true reasons for our breakup. I was on the road to happiness. I loved being with them. And then I went and risked it all by doing as I'd done this morning. I felt like such an ass. My heart pounded as I knocked on the door.

My apprehension was immediately attenuated when Rebecca opened the door. "Hi, sweetie," she said as I crossed the threshold and into her waiting arms. Her greeting was more intimate than normal. She kissed me on the lips and her hands brushed along my backside as we broke our embrace. Was my panty line evident? Already, I was off-balance. "I'm so glad you could come back and join us to spend the evening, " she continued, "with Rob being indisposed this morning, and me being out of house, we barely got to see you."

"Well, the pleasure is mine, Becky, you know I love you guys and I'm always happy to spend time with you," I answered with all sincerity. "Where's Rob?"

"Oh, my little hubby is slaving away in the kitchen, making us a nice dinner. It's the least he can do since he was no help earlier today. Come on, let's go into the living room and get comfortable," she said more as direction than suggestion.

As she led the way, I took the opportunity to drink in her beauty. Her silky, beautiful black hair flowed midway down her back, covering the naked skin framed by the straps of her short black dress, which followed her trim waist and flared at her womanly hips and ended at mid thigh. Her ass, oh her ass is to die for. So firm and high, made even more so by the four-inch strapless mules that clacked across the hardwood floor of her foyer. Oh my god, the same shoes I'd worn earlier that day, when I'd also borrowed her chemise before sucking Rob's cock.

"Ground control to Major Mark," she said, laughing.

"Huh, what?" Caught staring at her shoes, wondering if this were just a coincidence, I hadn't noticed her turn her head to look at me.

"Cabernet or Merlot, sweetie. Or do you see something else you like?"

"Cab, please. And I'm sorry for staring," I said meekly, "you look awesome tonight." I must have turned as red as the wine.

"It's ok, baby. It's good to know that a woman can have such an effect on you."

Leaving me, standing there, to ponder what that could mean, she slipped away into the kitchen. Coming back empty handed, she said, "Rob will bring the wine after it has breathed a bit." She escorted me to the love seat, where I sat and then watched her sit and cross her legs. Try as I might, I could not keep my gaze from the shoe she let dangle from her foot. Noticing the silence, I looked back to see her gaze at me as a lioness eyes her prey. Her smile spoke a quiet confidence that the game was going her way. We talked about traffic, the weather and other mundane topics for a few minutes. I could feel the tension in the air, but couldn't name it.

Rob entered, wearing his apron, carrying two glasses of wine, along with a plate of assorted cheeses. We exchanged hellos and I started to rise in proper greeting, but Rob stopped me, saying, "oh, don't get up. I can't stay and chat, or dinner will burn." With that he was gone.

"A toast," Rebecca offered. "To my dear friend Mark. May you soon find happiness and purpose." Her smile was radiant, with no glimpse of deceit, and her angelic voice carried no trace of the malice I feared she might harbor if she knew the truth about today. She stared into my eyes, and I swear she saw into my very soul. We sipped, and I offered two toasts of my own.

"To Rebecca. The most intelligent, kind and beautiful woman I know. May your every wish come true. And to Rob. The luckiest man on Earth. May he always know it."

"Oh, he knows, because I remind him regularly!" she said, touching my arm and laughing. As we chatted, Becky continued touching my arm and even my thigh. She tossed her mane as she laughed, tilted her head, smiled mischievously and kept dangling the shoe off her gorgeous foot. Her beauty and charm had me completely captivated.

"Do you like my nail polish, Mark?" Indeed, I loved the dark red color and glossy finish. I apologized for staring, but admitted that I thought her feet were beautiful. "Well, my feel and legs are a bit sore from all that work today. Walking in these heels is not helping. May I?" and without waiting for my reply she swung her legs up onto my lap.

"Be a dear and rub my feet for me," she commanded as much as asked.

"Sure," I said, trying to sound nonchalant. But, man was I chalant. I gently caressed the tops of her feet, feeling the leather upper of the same shoes I'd worn earlier, not so much more nobly serving their purpose on her.

"Mark, do you like my shoes better than my feet?"

"No, of course not, I..."

Laughing, she interrupted, "well then take them off so you can tend to my feet properly, silly!"

I rubbed her feet as best I could, but the position was difficult, and I couldn't do more than caress them. We kept chatting and she queried me about my social life, which was a short conversation, because I had none since my breakup.

Rob walked in while I was rubbing his wife's feet. He just smiled and announced that dinner would be ready in five minutes. There was no jealousy or anger in his demeanor. We left the den and sat down to an amazing meal of salad, sea bass, risotto and asparagus. It was so good. I told Rob what a fantastic cook he is, and said I wished I could cook like that.

"Well, thank you, but I wasn't very good until my beautiful wife encouraged me to learn," he replied. "Now, I love making the meals. I just don't like doing the clean-up afterward."

Rebecca said, "Mark, why don't you do the clean-up. I still need a good foot massage, and Rob is really good at that too. You, my dear friend, are not so good at that." Her smile showed that she was just teasing me. So I shot back, "I am good with my hands, I'll have you know. I was just getting warmed up."

Rob chimed in, "Let's have a competition. Two feet, two sets of hands. Whomever does the better job gets to relax with Rebecca, and the loser does the dishes."

"Game on," I replied.

After the raspberry tart and coffee, we adjourned back to the den. This time, Rebecca sat in the overstuffed recliner. The rules were laid out. Fifteen minutes of massage time, both at the same time. Rebecca decides the winner.

Rob knelt at his wife's feet like it was the most natural thing in the world. I followed suit. And so we began. I began on left foot and Rob took her right one into his possession. I quickly realized my amateur status. His hands moved like a magician's, and mine fumbled and fussed. He knew every millimeter of her anatomy, and I was learning the basics. He knew exactly what worked for her, while I experimented. My lack of expertise did nothing to dampen the excitement I felt as I tended to Rebecca's foot. I'd gazed cautiously upon her beautiful peds many times, in various shoes and nail polish colors, trying never lingering long enough to get caught (failing on many occasions). Tending to her in this way had been the focus of many masturbatory fantasies. And now here I was. This was no fantasy, it was far more visceral. The softness of her skin, the underlying structure forming a perfect arch. The perfumed aroma. The warmth. Her involuntary reactions to my touch. I could do this for the rest of my life and die a happy and fulfilled man.

Rebecca interrupted half way through and had us switch feet "to keep it fair." I knew I was getting my ass kicked, but I lost all focus on winning or losing. Fifteen minutes ended, but I didn't want to stop. I had to tear myself away and return to the larger reality of the situation Rebecca, formally declared Rob the victor, and he kissed her feet in celebration. She pointed a foot at me and said, "the loser can have a kiss too." I reverently placed a perfect kiss upon the tops of her toes. I was intoxicated with lust and adoration. "Make sure you wear that apron in there when you clean up. I don't want your clothes getting wet or dirty," said Rebecca has she shooed me away to pay off my bet. My senses started returned as I left her to settle up on the wager. Despite the attempted earlier tuck, my raging cock had worked itself mostly free and now formed a bulge which felt like the Eiffel Tower in my pants when I stood up.

The kitchen was a disaster. Pots, pans, plates, utensils were piled up. Flour, veggie bits, and open jars were everywhere. How could he have made such a huge mess? I found an apron, but it wasn't the plain one Rob had worn earlier. This one was pink, with frills and embroidered flowers. Nice. I started plowing through the dishes, loading the washer, scrubbing the pots, and cleaning the counters. I was partway through when my phone buzzed. A text from Rebecca. "Bring us some more wine in ten minutes, sweetie." Not, "please." Not a request. An order, with a specific time stamp. My cock stirred. I quickly replied, "Yes, Ma'am!" I spent most of the next ten minutes making sure the the wine service was perfect.

I will never forget the sight that awaited me as I entered the den with two glasses, recalling Rob had done likewise just a few hours ago. That I didn't drop the glasses is inexplicable given what met my eyes next. Rob was completely naked, still kneeling on the floor. Rebecca was still clothed. His head was buried between her legs, which rested comfortably on his back. Her head was back and her eyes closed. Her hand rested gently on his head, stroking his hair and minutely guiding his efforts. I watched them for several minutes, as Rebecca's breathing quickened and her body tensed. Watching an orgasm wash over her body, courtesy of her loving husband's oral homage, was the most erotic event I have ever witnessed. After a few more moments, she opened her eyes and smiled at me without a hint of embarrassment. She reached out a hand and I passed a glass to her. The other I placed on the coffee table, having no thought of interrupting Rob, who was continuing his duties unabated.

She smiled and said the apron looked pretty on me. Then she saw a stain on my pants, and pointed it out to me. She said," take off your pants and leave them here. Your shirt too. I don't want any more stains on them." Removing my shirt and pants meant exposing my panties and the raging erection therein. I didn't care. Her confident and relaxed demeanor was contagious, and so without further consideration I complied with her direction and soon stood before her naked but for the pink panties.

"You look cute like that Mark," she told me. "You know I've know about your panty wearing for some time now. You aren't so good at keeping them hidden when you are sitting or squatting I like how they look on you. Now, go and finish up in the kitchen, then come back here. Do a good job, too."

Embarrassed at having been previously outed and not even knowing it, I took my apron ("my" apron?), returned to my duties, and worked at a fever pitch so that I could return to perhaps participate in the festivities. Conscious of her admonishment, I was careful and thorough. I wanted her to be proud of the work I'd done. I wanted her approval desperately.

My mind was reeling. I could not have anticipated the evening's events unfolding as they were. I didn't have time to really consider that things could only be moving this fast because they in fact knew all about what I'd done earlier and this was all planned out. Rebecca had kept me off-balance the whole evening. She was orchestrating the events, and Rob and I were mere players in her ensemble.

Maybe twenty more minutes elapsed, when I was at last finished and satisfied I'd done an excellent job. I grabbed a third glass and opened a new bottle of wine. My fate awaited me in the den, and I marched toward it with abandon.

This time, Rob was sitting on the recliner. He sat with his legs wide apart. His cock lay in a semi erect state across his leg, and he was sipping his wine. Rebecca had reclined her seat and smiled at me as she caught me staring too long at Rob. Her legs were crossed at the ankles, and the soles of her feet were on full display.

I heard the sound of my own voice. Confused, I realized the TV was on, and the two of them were watching something. My heart stopped and I nearly fainted when the image I saw on the screen was me. In their foyer, in Rebecca's chemise and heels. Both ends of my conversation on the phone with Rebecca earlier that day could be heard. I quickly realized that I was fully caught and exposed. I knew what was coming next, and sure enough, the scene switched to the alcove where Rob was tied up. It recorded all my words, and all my deeds.

I was paralyzed. I wanted to run, and never come back. I looked for the clothes that I'd earlier shed, but they were not to be found. I started to sob and stammer that I could explain, that it wasn't...

"Mark, sweetie, stop," Rebecca commanded. "We've known about you, about how you are for a long time. Lisa told us what you were like when she broke off your engagement. She couldn't accept you for what you are." A pause let those words echo and disappear so that the next words would resonate in my soul. "But we love you, and we accept you, as you are."

"I'm sorry if you feel trapped, right now," she continued, pausing the video. "But don't. We wanted to find a way to show you that, first, you cannot help how you feel. It's who you are. This morning proved that. You had choices then, and we all know what you decided. Second, we needed to let you in on our special way of life. This might not have been the most conventional way, but frankly we thought it would be really exciting. And we were right." I stood there, confused, unable to mutter anything intelligible.

She explained, "Everything that happens the rest of tonight will be your choice. If you want to go, your clothes are in the closet right there. If you leave, we'll delete this file, and never speak of these events again. And we'll remain your dear friends. We love you, Mark." After a pregnant pause, she continued. "But I don't think you want to go. I think you want to stay. If you stay, I promise to give you what you need and desire most in your life. All I ask in return is your honesty in what you feel and that you trust me to keep you safe. So, take a moment, and tell me, stay or go?"

This was the moment of opportunity awaited. I could never forgive myself for leaving, and I would regret it for the rest of my life. Rebecca and Rob had saved my life already. I trusted them implicitly. And I loved them dearly. It was no contest.

"I'd like to stay," I said, in a voice more confident that I thought I could manage.

"Excellent! We couldn't be happier," she exclaimed.

"What do we do now?" I asked. I was unable to develop a plan or think of the next action. Rebecca was in command, though.

"Mark, I think you need more practice on foot massages, "she began. "I can tell you love doing it, so I will allow you to do this from time to time. But you need to improve your skills, and you need to earn the right. I know it was because you lost the bet, but since you cleaned the kitchen, I'll consider that you've earned the right. I also trust that you did a good job of it." I stood there, speechless. "Refill our glasses, then I'll teach you how to please my feet, like I taught Rob."

Still in my apron and panties, I served the two of them. Rob's smile was a knowing one, not condescending or superior. It put me at ease.

I took a large drink of my own wine, set it down, and took my position, kneeling once again before Her. She guided my movements, the pressure, the motion, the steady progress across her soles, the focus on each toe. I was no Rob, but I was getting better. And the contact thrilled me to no end. She had me completely in her control; I would do anything she commanded.

"Sweetie, you're are a fast learner. That was really nice," she told me when she decided I was done. She held a foot up to my face and said, "do you want to kiss my feet, Mark?"

"Very much, Rebecca," I admitted.

"I think perhaps, 'Miss Rebecca' would be a better way for you to address me. Don't you?"

"Yes, Miss Rebecca."

"Tell me what you want."

"I want to kiss your feet, Miss Rebecca."

"Kiss them or worship them?"