Neighbor's Control in Chapter 3
routines were proceeding smoothly. Jess and I were fitting in well on a social level as well as in our respective careers, and I was still meeting up with Brit while trying my best to hide the additional $200-$250 I was giving her each month.
However, I noticed Jess acting strangely now and then. At times, I would return home from work to find her seeming a bit distant: this was not like her. She'd always been so loving with me, and I had no doubt she loved me. But, there would be certain nights when she would display uncharacteristic behavior.
As for any potential menstrual influences, no - this wasn't it. My Jess had never shown the stereotypical or pop-culture symptoms associated with her period. Outside of not getting any action for a couple of days, I would never know if she was on her period or not.
No. This was something else. I couldn't quite place it, but something seemed off, particularly after she'd been away from me for a while. She never developed this moodiness around me during the day when we were together the entire day. Instead, it was only when she returned home from somewhere and only happened every few weeks.
Besides that, Jess was acting strangely around the neighbors. It was nothing major, just a few strange glances that only I could notice. I've been in love with her for a long time and she's my best friend, so I was perfectly aware. It happened first in a group setting, which made it difficult to identify the root cause.
Then it happened when we saw Brit one day as we were walking Banjo. This led me to fear she might have found out about our unusual routine of spending time together naked. Yet, she never indicated any knowledge of this, so I convinced myself that Brit and I had been careful.
I waited an extra couple of weeks before emailing Brit again, just to play it safe. This cycle continued for a while, with me growing more and more anxious. Was she cheating on me and feeling remorseful after?
No.
No way.
Never, not her, not me.
Isn't that the thought we all have: It can't happen to me; she's too in love with me? Was I deluding myself?
If she was indeed cheating on me, I asked myself how I could be contributing to the situation with my sessions with Brit. Although there wasn't any sexual activity, there was a sexual aspect to it. Even if there wasn't, it was something I did with a nearly naked woman and hid from Jess. Doesn't that constitute a form of cheating?
I made efforts to push these thoughts away when we were together. I tried to be more engaging. I tried to be a better listener. I tried to do more around the house. I tried to be a better husband, fearing that she could be cheating on me!
One day, Jess came home later from a shift at the hospital, which was nothing out of the ordinary. However, she stepped in the door looking slightly flushed and slightly red-faced, as if she might be blushing or had just finished a workout. Immediately, thoughts ran through my head that she had perhaps hooked up with some asshole douchebag on her way home. I tried, but failed, to push away these thoughts. I asked her if she was alright, and she said it had been a long, exhausting, and stressful day. I didn't press the issue and it made for a long night for me.
This returned to my thoughts one day when we were near some neighbors again. It was a Tuesday around 6:30pm: we were walking the dog and came across a group of people chatting and sharing drinks in someone's garage. Brit was present, accompanied by three other couples. We stopped to chat for about 25 minutes, had one drink, and continued our walk. Jess then exhibited uncharacteristic behavior, which was the first time I witnessed it firsthand. I couldn't help but be terribly scared she may have been sleeping with one of the men at the gathering.
Frightened. Colossally frightened. [what world do we live in: I've been secretly cheating on her through my sessions with Brit for months with no remorse or guilt. However, the moment I fear she's been with another man, I'm petrified she's cheated and it spurs me to try and be a better partner.
What a twisted situation.
So there it was, the whole fucked up situation.
One day I was set to meet with Brit for a session on Thursday. I decided that I couldn't confront her about anything at the time, so I promised myself I'd raise the issue during the weekend. I found it difficult to sleep and couldn't stop thinking about the conversation we would have. The thought of Monday and Tuesday kept me tossing and turning, making them miserable nights.
Finally, Thursday evening rolled around and I was able to ignore the issue. Jess was bartending, so I had some free time before 10:30 or 11. I snuck through the back road to Brit's and let myself in like I always do. The session went as usual: she wore a green string bikini with yellow ties at her hips, back, and neck. She went tougher than usual, talking more trash, and made me beg and say humiliating things louder. It was a bit odd, but it was also a good night.
After we finished, she requested a foot massage. I'd never mentioned my foot fetish to Brit, so this was a bit unusual. She sat on the big couch, put her feet in front of her on the wrestling mat, and focused her gaze on me. I hesitated, but she wiggled her fingers, demanding my attention.
Although I was surprised, I took my place on the mat and began to massage her feet. I also noticed her feet's size and perfection for the first time. Her long toes would curl around my fingers as I massaged them. At a point, she used my shoulder as a footrest while I massaged her other foot. It wasn't for long, but I could feel her leg and foot's weight pressing on my shoulder. After a few minutes, Brit suddenly stepped up her demands.
During our previous encounters, she would casually suggest some dominatrix-style remarks to see if I was responding. This time, I think she had given up:
"Suck on my toes." She instructed casually.
"Huh?" I stuttered.
"Suck. On. My. Toes." She said more firmly.
"Brit, I'm not sure I can," I said, worried about what Jess might think, when Brit broke her silence.
She swiftly raised her free foot, which was her left with both my hands occupied with her size 12 right foot, and pressed her toes against my mouth to silence me. When I instinctively pulled back, she demonstrated her dominance.
She leaped off the couch and flipped me onto my back. I was taken aback at her sudden aggression, an action she had never performed before. I didn't fight, since she could definitely cause harm to me. I spread my arms to signal my surrender.
She smiled smugly. She then stood, placing her feet on either side of my stomach, and raised one foot, turning it 90 degrees and lowering it onto my throat. She applied some pressure and began choking me with her foot, a sinister look plastered on her face.
I tried to grab it, but she forcefully commanded, "NO," in a loud tone. I halted my attempts.
"Who's in charge here?" she asked.
"You?" I responded unsurely.
"Louder," she commanded.
"You are in control, Brit," I answered loudly.
"What are you supposed to do?" Brit asked, her voice louder than necessary. She wiggled her toes on the side of my neck as she spoke.
"I want to suck your toes like you said." I said.
"Louder," she commanded.
I repeated louder. She released her hold and went back to where she was seated.
I returned to my spot at her feet, my back facing the other part of the room. She lifted her foot and I grabbed it with both hands. I was struck by the vastness of her feet, their elegance. They were thin and slender, feminine and with attractive toes: not too long but also not too short and stubby like other feet I'd seen. Her toenails were manicured just right, too short to potentially harm a client in a wrestling match.
After observing her feet with my eyes and hands, I realized I was massaging them mostly because I had no choice since she had just performed a session with me. After a couple of minutes, she heightened the intensity.
I wanted to grab her foot when she strictly said "NO" in a very loud voice. I stopped.
"Who's in command here?"
"You?" I replied.
"Speak it loudly," she demanded in a loud tone.
"You are in command, Brit." I said clearly and strongly.
"What would you like to do now?" she asked with a loud voice as well. She wiggled her toes near my neck.
"I want to suck your toes like you asked me to." I said louder.
"Louder," she commanded.
I said it louder. She let me go and sat back down.
I was now in my position near her feet, my back facing the other side of the room, and I had her foot in both my hands. I couldn't help but admire her foot's size and beauty. She had the ideal feet: long, thin, and delicate, with the perfect toes. Her nails were clipped short, but not too short, so that they wouldn't scratch anyone in a wrestling match.
As I maneuvered her foot with my hands, looking for that spot to hold it for the imminent toe-sucking experience, I couldn't help but notice how soft and silky they felt. The arches were pliant to my touch, which was especially hot for someone like me who enjoys playing with feet, and the heel and other parts of the sole that touched the ground constantly were equally supple and callous-free. I ran the tip of my index finger along her sole once more to fully immerse myself in the sensation.
She interjected, "Don't dilly-dally! Stop fantasizing and suck my toes!" Her tone was forceful, a bit louder than necessary perhaps, "...Now, suck my toes!" she added decisively, sounding like a mother telling her son to put the plates on the table for dinner.
Only then did I realize that instead of sucking her toes as she requested, I had been caressing her feet. Without hesitation, I took her big toe between my lips and began sucking.
"Wow!" she exclaimed in a boisterous voice, which was strange for her.
I pondered to myself, 'What's the reason for saying "Wow"? And why does she keep talking so loud?'
In my excitement, I had momentarily forgotten, and now I was locked in, consumed by sucking her toes with fervor. It had long been a fantasy of mine to be in such a situation, and now that it was happening, I was determined to relish the moment. I had no real experience with a foot fetish or amazons before, but I was immediately taken by her large feet. She made subtle sounds, letting me know how much she was enjoying my actions, which urged me on even more.
I couldn't decide where to direct my eyes or where to gaze. I began by looking at her face and establishing eye contact. Although she smiled the entire time, it felt a little awkward, so I alternated between making eye contact, closing my eyes, and immersing myself in her half-naked, bikini-clad body.
At one point, as I was making eye contact, I noticed that she was looking over my shoulder, almost as if she meant to look that way. Upon noticing me watching her, she flawlessly shifted her gaze back to mine, smiling back at me. This was the first time I sensed that I was being observed in her house. The feeling of being watched gave me the jitters-was there someone hiding behind me?
Suddenly, she let out a sigh and a soft "mmm" indicating pleasure, followed by simply inquiring, "Sole?" with a questioning tone.
"You bet!" I replied, and she gradually pulled her toes back, offering me free access to her gorgeous soles. I attacked her soles with intense dedication.
That calmed my anxiety of being watched, but it did not extinguish it. For the next 45 seconds, I divided my attention between dominating my sole-licking mission and pushing back that uneasy feeling. I was mostly successful, but the fear lingered.
After a moment or two of sole-licking, she declared, "Keep your eyes closed and keep them closed until I tell you otherwise."
I didn't want to obey at first. How could I resist a New Yorker in a bikini allowing me to please her feet? She was feeding my sight, taste, sense of touch, and even my hearing senses! I wasn't keen on closing my eyes but was too scared to protest my refusal.
"You might think you don't have to," I hesitantly stated, "However, I'll close my eyes if you'd like me to. I'll do it. But honestly, I feel I'll perform better with them open."
"I was almost led to believe you'd decline me." She retorted, flirtingly. "I'm not the type of woman you should turn down."
Her grin widened, then she continued, "Some of my other clients close their eyes and tell me it helps them concentrate on the feel and taste of my feet and the beauty of my feet. I want you to try it. It could enhance your performance."
"Am I not doing well enough? I'm working as hard as I ever did when I serviced Jess's feet! Perhaps even better?" I blurted out, perhaps a bit too hastily. Did I blurt too quickly? Maybe it seemed snobby?
"There's no need to worry," she reassured, "But, do this for me. Keep your eyes closed until I grant you permission to open them."
She instructed me to carry on, and I obeyed. Around five more minutes passed, and after my mouth had become entirely saturated with her sweat, I asked if I could worship the other foot. She denied my request, and oddly reminded me to keep my eyes closed. This comment felt out of place since they were already shut and my determination not to open them was intense. She also insistently stated not to do so "...until I permit it," which came across as a peculiar choice of phrasing.
Without any complaints, I continued attending to her foot, pondering how far I was willing to follow this new dominatrix behavior. I wasn't sure if I had the capacity to go much further.
To be truthful, I adored licking her feet - it was extraordinary. And now, I'd want to engage in this activity every time I met with her! I was going to want to engage in it even when her feet were clean at the beginning of our sessions. But, as I went back to sucking her toes and attempted to massage her generous soles, I pondered if this would be considered infidelity?
I don't wish to appear judgmental or envious, and I'm well aware of the idea rolling through your minds. However, let's not forget we live in the real world and marriage is a two-way street: if I enjoy another woman, I'd better be at peace with the idea of her enjoying another man. I admittedly worry that I'm cheating on her by indulging in this dispute with Brit, but I console myself by explaining that there's no kissing, no exchange of bodily fluids, and no one is pleasing anyone else.
I can't say those things now: I'm kissing her foot! Would I feel comfortable walking in on her giving head to someone else? I don't think I would. The notion crept into my thoughts regardless of my efforts to suppress it. Then, her commentated, "I have a surprise for you..." She spoke mischievously and almost sang the words while gradually shifting her foot out of my grasp. She then placed both feet on my shoulders, situating her ankles at the spot where my neck met mine.
"Keep your eyes closed, you are not authorized to open them yet," she instructed with a pause. I instantly shifted my gaze towards the end of the couch, despite her pausing in anticipation. "Now, with no movement, open your eyes."
Jess was sitting on the couch, grinning oddly at me.
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