Tease the Bull...

"Kyran, I've got to say that you're really not making a lot of sense here." She said as she held my hands. "You've got a great husband. He's cute. He doesn't abuse drugs or alcohol. He doesn't gamble. He works hard and brings the money home to you. On the other hand, he's not so wrapped up in work that he neglects you. Far from being abusive, he's always worshipped the ground you walk on. You've told us all how he's always so romantic, always doing things to let you know he loves you. For Christ's sake woman, you've admitted yourself that he's even good in bed. I've got to admit that, sorry kid, I'm pretty much like Willis on this one. I'm wondering just what the hell it is you want the guy to do, beyond what he's doing already. Ninety nine women in this town out of a hundred would run you down in a heartbeat to be in your shoes. Trust me girlfriend, if you do something stupid and let that man slip through your fingers, he won't fall very far. Hell, your replacement could be working right beside him in that studio as we speak!"

Needless to say, that got my attention. After a few doses of this same general medicine, I started feeling like a bit of a bitch. I had pretty good success from that point on in being satisfied. The old feelings would surface from time to time, but I'd fight them down and all would return to normalcy eventually. Of course Fate soon decided to be a bitch herself and test me further.

My dad had decided the time had come to hang up his hat in the business world. He wanted to retire while he and mom had the health and the good years left to enjoy some relaxation and travel. While I was happy for him, it did present a problem. It was going to leave me unemployed. Fortunately I was not without marketable skills. My next job opportunity presented itself in short order. A local business executive was in need of an assistant. The job involved mostly "gofer" work, some light secretarial duties, and help in arranging travel and hotel reservations. My dad, while not a personal friend, at least had some passing acquaintance with the gentleman, Mr. David Farris. If my sterling resume failed to get me the interview, then a word from dear old dad must have. In a few weeks time I had a new job with the added advantage of a higher salary and a nice benefits package.

I liked my new employer. David Farris was an astute businessman, but he wasn't cut from the usual corporate cloth. He wore his individuality like a badge of honor. Oh, he dressed the part, to be sure. He rocked the expensive suit, silk tie, and Italian leather dress boots with best of them. He favored dark colors, black, blue, and charcoal gray. There the resemblance to the rest of the herd ended. First of all, he was a big man. He was well over six feet tall and solidly built, with big hands. He was obviously no stranger to the weight room. Ruggedly handsome, he shaved his head, had dark brown eyes, and wore a well trimmed dark brown goatee, flecked with highlights of blond. His left ear was pierced with a brilliant diamond stud. He looked like Wall Street had collided with Sturgis at Bike Week. As a matter of fact, one of his favorite toys was a big Harley cruiser that he liked to ride on weekend excursions. He was still in his late thirties.

Like most big men, he was gentle and soft spoken for the most part. That being said, all but the blind could tell there was a storm brewing just under the surface, waiting for the right circumstances to set it off. Wise people did not trifle with David Farris. He was an excellent employer. Although not overly friendly, he wasn't a stuffed shirt either, and he would joke freely with both me and Libby Fielding, his secretary/receptionist. Libby was a cute little brown eyed brunette with an impressive rack and legs that could give mine a run for the money. She wore her hemline conservatively, but she looked like she had been poured into her skirt and her cleavage challenged decorum to the limit. She was one of those women who gave the impression they were flirting with you, whether they were or not. With Libby this was not gender specific either. I often felt like she was undressing me with her eyes but I didn't make much of it. Like me, she was married, although I had no idea what her husband did for a living. At any rate, her work station was just outside the suite where David and I worked and I didn't see her a great deal during the day.

The aforementioned suite was impressive. The two walls at the corner were floor to ceiling glass. David's big desk sat right in front of the view. He could face his desk or swivel around and stare out the window as he desired. My desk and computer were several yards in front of him, though my desk faced the door. The floor of the suite was richly carpeted, the walls were impressively paneled, and the furnishings were obviously expensive. Oak and rich leather were everywhere and the air was always slightly scented with the smell of the vanilla flavored tobacco David smoked in his briar pipe. I noted that he had a different one for each day. He also kept a couple crystal decanters of Scotch and Bourbon on an oak bar which had an installed icemaker. Each of the decanters flanked a cut glass jar of his custom blended tobacco. The suite even had an attached bedroom and bath with a generous closet in the event that David wished to work late and just stay for the night rather than drive home.

Things at work and at home took on a usual pattern. At both places, of course, there were the usual annoyances but nothing beyond fixing relatively easy. Will and I had even started talking about becoming parents. I now had good medical insurance, and with our respective moms, two baby sitters built in. We decided to give it about two years to ensure that my job was secure and that there were no problems we had not considered. The thing that made me uneasy was the nagging, restless, lack of complete satisfaction in our marital bed that continued to crop up on a limited basis. I just decided to deal with it in the same fashion as I had up to this point. Surely, I reasoned, it would all work out. Love does, after all, conquer everything in the end does it not?

My downfall began soon after, one cool but sunny Friday afternoon. My king sized employer had decided to spend the weekend riding his bike, and planned to knock off at the noon hour to start the trip. He had actually rode to work that morning, changed into his suit and tie, and was going to return to denim and leather when he left for the day. He came out of his bedroom appropriately attired, black leather jacket thrown over his shoulder, and leaned back against the front of his desk to make a call on the office phone. I couldn't help but notice the difference in him. He was wearing a tight fitting black t-shirt with the logo of his favorite band, Motorhead, depicted on the front. The tattoos were now visible on his muscular arms. The diamond in his ear had given way to a silver stud. The boots were also changed to heavy black riding boots. It was the faded skin tight jeans that proved to be the real source of interest.

Like a moth drawn irresistibly to a flickering flame, my eyes locked onto his crotch and upper thigh. There was a very prominent bulge. It was apparent, especially from the length of the bulge along his thigh, that one of two things was true. Either David Farris had a banana in his pocket, or he was packing some serious equipment. I had a strong suspicion that the latter was more likely the case. Blushing furiously, I finally managed to avert my gaze and tried to get my mind back on my duties. As if!

After David had finally left the office, my mind started doing its devious best to prevent a return to business. The inevitable questions began in my mind. Just how long was it? How big around? What would it look like? What would it feel like? Before long I found myself in the restroom, with my fingers attacking the small swamp that had appeared between my legs. That held me until I got home, whereupon I proceeded to practically rape my husband. Will received a very pleasurable weekend out of the whole thing, although I was just a trifle guilty that in my mind it was David Farris who was doing me the honors.

It goes without saying that things changed Monday morning. I would catch myself looking at the big guy a lot more often, and certainly in a new light. When he was in his suit pants, his bulge wasn't as noticeable due to the fuller cut, and I found this a mixed blessing. Of course, the little glances were clandestine. I couldn't let this thing become obvious. This, in turn, led to a new and heretofore unnoticed discovery. Since I was paying him more attention, I saw what I had probably failed to notice before. David was also looking at me.

It started with a mere glimpse in his direction, out of the corner of my eye. I noticed his gaze fixed in my direction. I was sitting at my chair, in front of my desk, sitting slightly sideways. I was wearing a skirt and my legs were crossed at the knee, the shoe on my right foot dangling down. David was scoping out my legs and quite possibly my foot as well. To mischievously test more fully the source of his interest, I began moving my foot up and down and in a slight circle. Oh yeah, I could see his eyes lock in on my foot in its orbit.

"Why that big kinky devil," the thought ran through my mind, "he's a leg man. But it seems he's got a bit of a foot fetish as well."

I had educated myself fairly thoroughly on a few of these things. You remember I was trying to find reasonable ways to light Will's fire. I had read that this was actually one of the most prevalent fetishes in men. At that point, it suddenly dawned on me the naughty things David was probably imagining doing to that foot, along with the rest of me quite probably. My whole body was tingling with excitement at that knowledge. My pussy was getting nice and moist and my nipples were standing up like pencil erasers. The whole day went this way. Mixed in with my work, I would casually cross and uncross my legs. I would dangle my shoe enticingly from my foot, then set my foot back on the floor and hide it once again in the shoe. Once, I "accidentally" dropped the shoe off my foot altogether. Then of course, I had to find it again with my toes and slide it back on. This whole performance was not lost on the man sitting across the office.

In the past, I would have been blissfully unaware of his interest. But now, things were different. I was watching him more closely, and in a different way. Of course there was the added factor that this was not an innocent thing on my part. I was actively courting the big guy's notice. Still, I had to respect him for his self control. He wasn't ogling me. He was doing his level best to appear uninterested. But I noted with amusement, and not a small amount of horniness, that it was a battle he was losing. The resulting sense of control, of dominance over the big man, coupled with my naughty fantasies about his big package had me running at full steam. I took that mental cauldron of forbidden stimulation home to my hubby that evening and dumped it on him, much to our mutual delight.

All it took was some gentle manipulation of my husband's good nature to introduce the new fantasy into our sex life. Of course, I had to let him remain in the dark as to just exactly why it happened, for obvious reasons. I was still in my office clothing when we ate our evening meal, with the exception of my jacket. When we had finished eating and cleaned up the kitchen, we headed to the big sofa in the living room to relax with a glass of wine. I had an idea that might possibly work.

It was so simple. All I had to do was tell Will that my feet were hurting. He acted just as I suspected he might. In less time than it takes to tell I was stretched out the length of the sofa with my feet in Will's lap getting a foot rub. Before long, I was rubbing the other foot into Will's crotch. One thing led to another and we wound up naked, though I left on my stockings and garter belt. Will and I were reclining, facing one another, our heads resting on the opposite cushioned armrests. He was still gently massaging my right foot and it felt heavenly. It was at that point that I took the sole of my other foot and began to slowly and gently slide it up and down the length of my husband's hard cock.

"My God, Kyran," he whispered as his eyes rolled upward toward the ceiling, "that feels wonderful. Please, I beg you, don't stop."

"Oh, you like that do you?" I teased, "Well, I'll keep going But it's going to cost you..."

"Anything Baby," he moaned lustily, "I'll do anything for this. I've never felt anything like it. My God, that feels like nothing I've ever felt before."

"So you like my feet do you," I asked in my sexiest whisper, "Well I want you to prove it to me. Take that foot you're massaging. I want you to kiss it. You have to do a good job now. I want it kissed all up and down. Each little toe too. Kiss and lick all up and down. Worship it for me. If you're a good foot slave for me, I'll give you an extra special treat. But if you don't, I'll have to stop what I'm doing for you. Now you don't want that do you?"

"God no, Baby," he pleaded, "Just tell me if I'm not doing it right and I'll do better."

It was so amazing watching my straight laced husband kissing, licking, and nibbling away at my nylon covered foot, while his hands rubbed up and down my leg. It was even more amazing that he was quite obviously enjoying doing so. He even managed to push his tongue in between the toes, despite the nylon covering. It was such a turn on that I began teasing my nipples with the fingers of one hand while I stroked the wet slit of my pussy with the fingers of the other. Of course, I probably don't need to tell you that, before too long, in my mind it was David Farris on the other end of that couch.

After bringing myself to a mind blowing orgasm. I finally decided to reward my little slave. Taking my foot from his face I brought it down to his crotch along with my other foot. I turned the soles of my feet sideways and captured his hard cock between the arches. Slowly at first, then with increasing speed I began sliding my feet up and down. Will loved it, all the while moaning and bucking his hips. It was probably just a few minutes before he suddenly gave a strangled cry and arched his back as thick spurts of semen shot out of the head of his cock.

"Merciful Heavens, girl," he exclaimed a few moments later as he cleaned up his abdomen and my feet and legs with a wet cloth. "That was absolutely fantastic. Was it fun for you too?"

"You betcha it was," I giggled, "You make an awfully good foot slave. Just wait 'til I tell all our friends how you like to worship my smelly feet."

"Kyran," he gasped, "You wouldn't dare!"

"Oh really?" I teased, "I think you know me better than that. But perhaps we can come to an arrangement in exchange for my silence. Maybe we can put this into regular use in the rotation if you get my drift. Of course, I won't abuse the power I have over you too much."

"Gladly my Gaelic Queen," he teased as he kissed the top of each foot lovingly, "and by the way, your pretty little feet are not at all 'smelly', thank you very much."

"I notice you're still 'standing at attention' dear hubby," I said casually, "I've got a warm, wet place for that if you're interested."

"Actually darlin' I can think of two warm, wet places on you that might fit that description." he said with a leer.

"Oh, so that's the way of it, is it?" I laughed, "Feeling frisky tonight are you? Very well then, but if you get my mouth, then it's only fair that I get to ride that beard. Then we'll see if you can take care of that second warm, wet place."

The night was such a smashing success! Will had questions obviously. Where had I come up with that kind of naughty idea, he wondered? I simply told him the slightly modified truth. I was simply reading some erotic research material in an effort to keep things hot between us. And although there was some deception involved overall, I felt it was justified. My fantasies about David Farris were just that, fantasies. As long as I never acted on them, no harm, no foul. I came home to my Will all fired up, enjoyed the naughty aspect of it, and we both were satisfied. In fact, Will got to the point that he would get a very firm erection in the morning when he watched me put on my stockings or pantyhose. I would tease him unmercifully, allowing him to briefly worship my feet, then tell him he couldn't have his "special treat" until that evening. By the time we got together at night we were as hot as a ten dollar pistol.

As for Mr. David Farris, I knew I had to be careful in my daily torture sessions. There was, obviously, a line I could not cross. While, as I mentioned, David would joke somewhat with me and also Libby, there was no sexual banter. He was pretty much all business in that office. That did not mean I could not escalate the campaign as needed. If I sensed things were getting out of hand I would just back it down a notch or two for awhile and all would be well. I had to keep him interested in my little game. I was getting off on the "dominance" I had over him. I knew that on some level it was frustrating him and he couldn't do a damn thing about it. However, I assumed he had a lover or lovers, so I wasn't exactly being cruel. He was just going to have to vent in the evenings, with someone else being the recipient, as was I.

My workday became so much fun I should have been paying David. My flirting was subtle, but intent. Before I walked into the office, I would stop at the lowest level restroom in the building. I would roll up my skirt waist a tad, so I could show a little more thigh. I would give him a button or two more cleavage. On occasion, I took to shedding my shoes altogether in the suite, parking them in front or to the side of the leg well of my desk. One memorable day, I went so far as to show him a little trace of stocking top as I did so. His eyes nearly popped out of his head for a split second before he recovered. On a few very rare occasions I would "accidentally" brush my breasts against his arm lightly.

At no time did any of this nonsense become verbal. I never said one word that could be misconstrued. I still avoided being caught looking at him, seemingly unaware that I was doing anything out of the ordinary. David, for his part, tried valiantly to do the same. But he was not always successful, much to my delight. I made the most of it. I was constantly horny as hell now. I nearly killed poor Will, but the poor fellow managed to keep up with me. The bad times were the weekends and the days when David went away on business trips. Even then I could manage to keep going fairly strong on memory alone, until I could get a fresh dose of my new "drug." I congratulated myself on finally solving the niggling little problem that had pecked away at my marriage as the weeks rolled on.

It was nearly a month later. It was Monday morning, and David had been out all the last week on a business trip. It had been nine days since I was exposed to the "drug" and I was feeling frustrated as hell. I chose my wardrobe accordingly that morning. The dress was a soft, sleeveless, black and gray print in one piece. It wasn't filmy or exceedingly flimsy so I decided with a hot flush to forgo a bra. I had a great pair of those wicked crotchless pantyhose in just the right shade for the dress, a silvery gray. I decided to forgo panties, of course, since about the only time I wore them anymore was when "Aunt Flow" was in town. A light silver necklace with a single diamond pendant and matching earrings went next, and I finished off the look with a pair of black pumps. I wouldn't be overwhelming him this morning. But the hem of that dress was high enough that he was going to catch considerable hell once I sat down, without me looking like a slut. My legs weren't the only thing that was going to catch his attention. The pantyhose had vintage reinforcements along the toe, heel, and sole area. These areas were still sheer enough to let him see my toes if I wiggled them for him, as I often liked to do. Yes, before an hour of the office day had elapsed, I intended to have David squirming.