The Secret Fetish Pt. 06

For months we slept in different beds and though we were cordial toward each other, our relationship marched into the land of platonic-- otherwise known as 'friendzone.' There was still love and history between the two of us, but anything beyond a kiss on the cheek sexually was patently off-limits.

Finding myself in the penalty box I initially punished myself once again by giving up any interaction with muscular women. Sure, that was impossible with Felicity around, but the internet searches came to a crashing halt, and I became nearly religious about avoiding masturbation as well. I gave into the narrative my brain had been telling me about my secret for so long: you're different, you're a pervert, you're a deviant. And now it's come at a cost you dipshit.

It's not like it was easy, especially with Felicity rolling into work every day after her workout her clothes soaked through with sweat sticking to every striation. My cock would harden at the sight of her no matter how I tried to divert my attention. It wasn't long before I crumbled and resumed her shoulder massages. Soon, it was her I visualized each night as my hand found my cock until I unleashed.

Still, I tried hard with Mary. I encouraged her to find hobbies after the kids had moved out and supported her needs financially. Religiously, I bought her roses, made breakfast for her every morning, and we still spoke lovingly but every sexual advance was rejected. She did daily workouts and put on some muscle, but I never got to touch her other than when I hugged her goodbye on my way to work. She had hardened for sure as if to tease me, but I was no longer allowed to stroke her fit body in any way remotely sexual.

It wasn't ideal, but between the two women, I had most of what I wanted. A new status quo was established with Felicity feeding my sexual fantasies at work and Mary giving me the friendship, love, and support I needed at home. I backed both of them financially-- Felicity garnering continual raises-- mostly for good work-- to feed her workout needs. Mary for her time in the gym, hobbies, and classes-- and each of them seemed to be thriving in their own way as well. It remained that way until the two of them met for the first time.

One hot summer day I arrived home to a sight that made me blink twice before my mind accepted what my eyes were telling me. Sitting on the banquette in the kitchen was my wife having tea with Felicity. Gingerly, I closed the door trying to get a feel for their conversation before I ventured in. Both of the women I knew held all the cards. I was entirely at their mercy. The conversation seemed jovial and filled with hearty laughter which was somehow both disconcerting and reassuring.

At least Mary wasn't giggling which suggested that Felicity hadn't discussed our borderline cheating shoulder massages, but the fact they were already so chummy meant they might have been talking for a while. Finally, I ventured in, holding a dozen roses for Mary.

"Well, this is a surprise," I started, trying to start on an even keel and hide my fears. My heart galloped in my chest and my breath ran abnormally fast, but for the most part, I played it cool.

"I didn't get a chance to drop the Kinney billings off with you before you left so I just figured I'd drop them here," she said motioning to the files on the table in front of her.

"Oh, you didn't have to." Really, you didn't.

"Nonsense, I'll do what I have to for the team. I nodded and tried to draw my eyes away from her so as not to offend Mary. Felicity seemed unwilling to participate, doing all she could to draw them back. It was like she was in a contest with my wife for attention and unfortunately, she was the lioness and Mary the house cat. What made it impossible for me to look away, is that it was the first time I'd seen Felicity in an evening gown. The effect was enchanting and erotic.

The shimmering, silky, emerald dress hugged her frame showing every curve in a different light almost caressing the complex contours of her physique. It scooped low at her chest to highlight her muscular pectorals as she moved. It was almost like she was challenging me to steal a glance of her nipples. Throwing caution to the wind, or perhaps never knowing the meaning of the word, Felicity wore no bra. Her firm, pointy nipples pressed hard against the dress like it was a frigid winter evening rather than the steamy hot day.

The pencil-thin straps pinched against the base of her sloping traps and bulging deltoids and then cut daringly in the back down to her sacrum, prominently exposing the flare of her lats and the beautiful contours of the symmetrical muscles along her spine. I longed to explore them thoroughly, caressing her mighty back muscles with my fingers before squeezing the great flare of her lats.

"You're all dressed up," I gulped, stating the obvious so I could drink her in a little bit longer.

"First date," she responded, "I've got to look nice." You needn't worry. You'd look gorgeous in a paper bag.

Her strapping physique forced the garment to gently hug her lower abdomen and cling to the ridges of her abdominals, giving brief but tantalizing hints at what little remained for imagination in her great physique beneath. The dress's short hem could have stopped traffic. It remained perilously high on her thighs, exposing the glory of her mighty, thick, striated quadriceps and leg biceps. As much as I strained to look away, I knew that when she arose from the seat, I would study every movement hoping her dress would fetch and I could catch a glance of her fabulous glutes. You're hopeless fawning over this woman even in your wife's presence...

She wore black, high-heeled Dr. Martens, which caused each of her calves to bunch into a magnificently tight and complex mass of musculature below her thin kneecaps. It was like she was exposing both her raw power and her beautiful elegance all in one package-- one that was impossible for me to resist. Open it for me.