Brian's Story

My girlfriend, Emily, is utterly the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me, and that's quite the understatement. I have loved a few women before in my thirty-eight years, but not one of them can even come close.

We often get asked why we haven't married yet. We have been together for over three years and have lived together for two of those. It's not that we don't want to, but we are both extremely happy with what we have as it is. I'd love to marry her.

We have had several discussions on the topic before, and we both have the same feelings about marriage. To us, marriage is for when you're ready to have children and get the house in suburbia with a white picket fence. We want that, of course, just not yet. We have way too much fun as we are now. I know she's mine and I'm hers.

In our time together we have explored all of my kinky fantasies and fetishes and hers as well. Hers aren't as some would call, "crazy" as mine. We love exploring different sexual thrills together and getting off to the naughtiest of things.

Last night may have been one of the most exciting nights we shared. I was cuckolded by my amazing girlfriend as she looked into my eyes with a nice big cock drilling her. It wasn't the first time this had happened. It was my kinky fantasy in the first place and she, being the astounding person she is, gave it a shot and soon it became a regular thing that we both immensely enjoyed.

But last night, there was something that made it even more intense than every other time.

Let me back up a little bit. When we met three years ago, I had the same job as I do now. I'm an accountant. Yes, it's quite boring at times and I'm still waiting for my big break. Back in high school, I wanted to have my own business and was told the best major in college would be accounting. I followed that advice. I never have had the funds to start my dream, so I got a job as an accountant. I can't say that I love it, but it pays more than just the bills.

We met through a mutual friend's Christmas party. I remember it like it was yesterday. She was adorable in a strapless satin red dress with a bow on the back that made her look like a present. It wasn't too short, stopping just above her knees.

Her curly light brown hair sat on her shoulders, pulled back at her temples by green barrettes with little green bows on them. Her brown eyes twinkled as she laughed with her friends.

I kept looking over at her, shying away when she would look back. I'm not confident in myself around women. But I kept looking, studying her.

She was, and still is, my dream woman. She is even better in real life.

I loved the tasteful amount of cleavage her dress showed in the sweetheart neckline. She doesn't have breasts that are classified as large, by her standards at least. She always tells me that she wishes they were a bit bigger. To me, they are beyond perfect, fitting into the palm of my hands with a bit of extra flesh left over.

She is shorter than me even wearing heels, which is not always easy to find since I'm not even close to being six feet tall. Her body is petite and she almost always has heels on to elongate her legs and to make her feel taller.

If nothing else got me that night, it was the stockings she had on and the peep-toe red sling-black heels. I figured they were stockings; the nylon was black with a red seam that trailed down the back of her legs. Pantyhose usually don't come in that style. Sure, some do, I guess. But it was the way she carried herself, like the sweet and innocent next-door neighbor with something hidden inside of her that made me sure they were stockings. What guy isn't drawn to a girl in stockings?

I may have been staring too much. My friend Kyle came over and nudged me and said that I needed to grow some balls and talk to her, or stop being so obvious. As I said before, I'm shy. I chose to not be obvious anymore.

I was going through one hell of a dry spell. It had been over two years since the last time I had any form of sex, even a hand-job. My ex and I had broken up a year ago, and the last year of our relationship was sexless. We had become more like best friends that lived together than lovers. Every time I tried to make a move she would turn me down, so I eventually gave up. Thanks to my friends' months of convincing me that I deserve more and deserve to be happy, I got out of that hell.

When I stopped trying to pay as much attention to Emily, she started looking over at me more. I could feel her eyes on me as she giggled with her blonde friend, I now know as Kate.

The first time we made eye contact, I was hooked. It was love at first sight, if you will.

She smiled the sweetest smile I had ever seen and she mouthed "hello" to me across the room. I felt the heat rise up on my cheeks and butterflies fluttering in my stomach. I waved some stupid little wave back.

I was dumbfounded. I wondered what she could possibly see in me. I'm short, stocky, have brown hair and brown eyes. I'm nothing out of the ordinary.

I felt like an idiot waving to her after eyeing her for over an hour. She could have any man in this room, but she was smiling at me.

My heart fluttered and I forgot how to connect my hand with my beer and get it to my mouth and spilled it all down the front of my striped button down dress shirt.

I thought I was done for. She giggled with Kate for a second, and then disappeared. A few agonizing moments later, she appeared in front of me with a handful of cocktail napkins.

I couldn't speak and she just grinned as she blotted up the stain on my shirt. A woman was touching me, not under the circumstances I would have wished. But if you've missed the feeling of being touched as long as I had, you'd take it. You know what I mean.

She broke the awkward silence first, looking up at me, still smiling that genuine smile, "Do you have a name? Or should I call you the guy who doesn't know how to drink out of a bottle?" she teased me.

I didn't think my cheeks could get any hotter. She raised a brow awaiting my answer.

"I'm Brian," I was finally able to blurt out.

She took her hands away from my shirt. I inwardly cried, not wanting her to stop touching me. I watched her wad up the napkins in her hand.

"Nice to meet you, Brian, I'm Emily," she said.

Emily. My dream girl was named Emily. I said her name over and over on my head, not wanting to forget it.

My eyes trailed down her legs to her toes poking out at the front of her shoes. The black nylon shrouded the neon green polish in the most perfect of ways.

I'm a foot guy. Well, I'm a lot of things guy, but one thing a time. I have been since I had house sat for a family friend during my freshman year in college. I stumbled across his stash of porno magazines. He owned the typical ones, "Hustler," "Playboy," and "Penthouse." There were several issues of one that stood out against the rest called "Leg Show."

I was hooked. There were pictures of naked women in there, but there was much more of a focus on their legs, and especially feet. I found it to be extremely erotic. I couldn't stop looking at the cute little toes and their polish colors. I swiped a few magazines, and little did I know it would become a lifelong fetish.

From that night, feet have been a fetish of mine. Looking at them, sucking toes, rubbing them, being teased with them, foot jobs, pretty much anything you can think of gets me going. Another perk of being a foot guy is summer time. When girls wear sandals and flip-flops, I am in heaven. Think about it. Are there any other parts of a woman you can ogle without them noticing? I think not!

After I noticed Emily's cute green polished toes and smiled inwardly, she got my attention again.

"Brian, it would be really nice if you got a girl a drink while you go get yourself another beer," she said in that same gently teasing tone.

I just nodded. I didn't trust my mouth to make words.

"Vodka cranberry would be perfect," she winked and then placed the dirty napkins in my hand.

I went straight into the kitchen and found Kyle waiting for me with a beer. I took it from him and as I mixed her drink, he told me to chill the fuck out because he was pretty sure she liked me. His pep talk ran briefly before I returned to her.

She took the drink from my hand and smiled before sipping it.

"This is perfect. You know me so well already," she grinned.

Emily took my hand and led me to the empty leather loveseat across the room. I followed her like a puppy dog.

We chatted, getting to know each other. I quickly learned she had recently turned thirty and wasn't very happy about it. Emily was an elementary school music teacher and loved sharing her passion for music with children. As we talked, she would gently rub my thigh and rub her foot against my shin, or wiggle her toes against the sole of her shoes.

I could talk to her forever. I was able to look at her pretty face and deep brown eyes. Everything came out so easy, like we had known each other for years.

Emily told me that she had been single for almost a year. Her ex broke her heart after being together since college. They were engaged and he cheated on her. That bastard. She had purposely stayed single since him, wanting to focus more on her career. I consoled her and told her the short version of the story about my ex-girlfriend. I was careful not to let myself fall into the "friend zone" already. I had done that too many times before.

Hours passed by in a blink, and Kate was rounding up her friend to go home.

Before leaving, Emily dug through her purse and found an old receipt. She wrote her number down on it and gave it to me.

"If you don't call me, I'll be incredibly upset," she said, getting up from the sofa and giving my hair a razzling.

"You won't be upset. I promise to call you," I said as I took out my wallet and placed her number inside. With my luck I'd lose it otherwise.

Emily smiled one last time. "I'm usually always free on the weekends," she said, then disappeared with her friend.

We had set up a date for a week later. There was just a few days left before Christmas. She needed to do some last minute shopping and I needed to do most of mine. To the mall, we went.

It was wonderful. I had never felt so comfortable with a girl on a first date. We went from store to store, picking up gifts and even making fun of some items that seemed flat out useless. She helped me pick out presents for my mother and sister. They were very thankful.

After shopping, we went to a coffee-house and spent the rest of the evening talking about anything and everything. We shared where we had been on vacations, family pets we had as kids, and stories about our friends.

I took her back to her apartment. She kissed me at her door. I had never felt like I did that night. It was the first of many amazing kisses from her. I felt excitement in my stomach and my legs went rubbery. Emily knew how to swirl her tongue with mine perfectly and suck it into her mouth, nibbling my button lip just a touch. She pulled away and smiled, telling me what a great time she had, before retreating into her apartment.

Over the next few weeks, we went on a date every Saturday. We enjoyed anything from dinner, movie theaters, coffee-shops and bars, to freezing walks in the park. We never did anything more than making out, and I was completely happy with that. She was my dream girl; I wouldn't dare pressure her, for fear of her pushing me away.

The nights we were apart were spent talking on the phone until we forced ourselves to hang up.

My coworkers started noticing that I had an extra bounce in my step, and that I walked a little bit taller and smiled a hell of a lot more than I used to. They demanded to know about the mysterious woman who lifted me out of a depression and I gladly talked about her.

Emily called me to set up our next Saturday date, and told me she wanted to cook for me. I am not a man to turn away a home cooked meal. She told me that even though we would be dining at her apartment, she wanted me to dress as if we were going to a five-star restaurant.

Before I got ready to go to her place, I rubbed one out. Something told me that this would be the night. Since I hadn't had sex in what felt like an eternity, I definitely did not want to disappoint her by cumming too soon.

On the way to her apartment I picked up her favorite flowers, bouquets of pink and white daises.

I arrived at her door wearing one of the few suits I owned. It was solid dark blue with a white shirt and striped dark and light blue tie. With the flowers in one hand, I knocked on her door.

She opened it rather quickly, and my jaw hit the floor. She was not dressed to go out. Anywhere.

Emily's curly locks were pulled back at her temples with bobby pins, same as the night we met. Her makeup was soft and her lips shined with invitation.

She had on the most amazing piece of lingerie I had ever seen, whether it be in a store, catalog or porno, and it was right before me.

Emily wore a deep purple bustier that propped up her generous cleavage and made me want to live between her breasts. Her torso was covered in purple satin down to her hips with sheer black fabric down the sides. Purple satin panties concealed her womanhood.

Black garters attached to the bottom of the garment with little purple bows on the clasps that held up sheer black stockings. Her feet were encased by strappy, black, five inch stilettos that brought her almost to my height. Her toes were painted hot pink, the bright color made it easy to see them through her stockings.

I hoped the bulge forming in my slacks wasn't too noticeable.

"Hello, handsome," Emily said, welcoming me into her home for the first time.

Handsome was a word I was still getting used to.

She took my overcoat from me, hung it up in the coat closet, and then made her way to the kitchen. My eyes were glued to her, watching her hips sway and loving how the shiny cheeky panties seemed like they were made for her. The cut came up just enough to give me an eye full of the curve of the bottom of her ass.

I can tell you, because this is my home now, that Emily is quite the interior decorator. That night, however, anything besides her was fuzzy.

She brought splashes of color into the drab white walled apartment using curtains and rugs. The walls were coated with thick black and red wooden frames encasing pictures of her family and photos she took on trips. Emily is a bit of a closet photographer. There are even more pictures since we have been together. The living room was completed with a retro styled red leather sofa and loveseat. They looked a bit different but were extremely comfortable.

I stood at the entrance to the kitchen, watching Emily put the daises in a vase with a giant smile on her face. Then she put pink oven mitts on before opening the oven door. As she bent over, I thought I could die and go to heaven and have my life fulfilled.

The voice in my head screamed, "We're getting laid tonight! Don't fuck this up, Brian!"

She pulled the most delicious smelling roast from the oven. The apartment filled with the aroma and made my stomach growl.

Emily had already set the table for two and I took a seat, watching her bring the dish to the table. I could definitely get used to this.

She knew the way to my heart, not that she didn't have it already. This was the most tender, juiciest roast I had ever had. I'm a meat and potatoes guy, so I'd like to say I know my stuff. The carrots and potatoes absorbed all the flavor of the meat and every bite melted in my mouth. It was better than my mom's, and that was saying a lot.

As we ate, I couldn't help but stare at my new girlfriend, still in disbelief that she was with me. Of course, I didn't complain about that. We talked like we always do, telling life stories, dreams, the funny things about our families, and what we liked about each other.

We were getting close to finishing this delectable meal and Emily had slipped her shoe off and lifted her stocking clad foot between my thighs.

She teased my erection back to full strength. I had not been entirely soft since knocking on the door. I let out a soft moan, feeling her toes wiggle against my cock.

"Brian, sweetheart," her voice had changed tones into something very lust filled.

"Yes?" I managed to reply.

Emily's toes slipped down and the back of her foot rubbed against my balls. Her toes wiggled behind them, making them bounce around in the confines of my boxers.

"I made your favorite, peanut butter and chocolate chip cookies for dessert. I was thinking we could have it as a between sex snack. Would that be okay with you?"

"Uh huh," I moaned.

Emily got up in flash and came over to me. Her lips met mine and our tongues sang their own passionate melody. I can't even describe how fast she had gotten my coat, tie and shirt off of me as we made the way to her bedroom, crashing into walls along the way.

Our mouths devoured each other as we fell onto her fluffy purple comforter. Her body was on top of mine. She raced to get the rest of my clothes off and I was panting.

"Emily, Emily, wait a second," I said hurriedly as she was pulling my slacks down.

"What? What is it? Is something wrong?" she asked, pulling them and my socks off.

"I need to tell you something," I said.

Emily crawled back up next to me, looking down at my face and I looked back up to hers. Her hand felt so good on my hairy chest.

"What is it, sweetheart?"

"I just don't want you to be shocked," I paused. Emily's eyes never left mine. "I, umm," I hated to say this, terrified of how she would react, "I have a small penis."

Emily raised a brow and cocked her head a bit. "How small? It works doesn't it?" she asked with genuine concern.

"Yes, it works fine. I'm very, very hard." I took a deep breath, feeling my cheeks flush red with embarrassment. "It's a little over four inches"

She stroked my cheek and smiled sweetly, "We can work with that, don't worry. I love you. Did you really think I would run away screaming?"

A big weight was lifted from my chest.

"Okay good, I just didn't want you to be upset," I said, and then there was a long pause. "Did you just say you love me?"

Emily smiled big and her eyes sparkled. "Yes, I did, I hope that's okay," she whispered then kissed my sensitive earlobe.

My heart was fluttering. "Of course it's okay. I love you too."

Emily kissed over my cheek and to my lips before sitting up and pulling my boxers down.

"Alright, let's see what we are working with, shall we?" she smiled.

Her smile didn't fade as my stumpy cock was exposed in the dim light that came from the living room.

"It's kinda cute," she giggled. "But you're plenty thick, I don't know why you were so worried," she said then swallowed my whole length easily.

I showed her how I made up for my size with my talented tongue and fingers. I pleased her immensely. We figured the best position to start with would be her riding me, so she could feel as much of me as she could. Her cunt was so tight and slick. I was in heaven with a new girlfriend who loved me, and my small penis. I came three times that night and made her orgasm five times and even squirt two of those.

We continued our weekly date ritual, also seeing each other Friday nights. They were usually spent at her place because I lived with my parents ever since the last break up. Emily didn't mind that all. As I said, she's a great girl. We had the amazing new relationship sex several times during that period.

I eventually started spending entire weekends at her apartment. I'd go there straight from work with a few changes of clothes and return to work on Monday. Leaving her was so hard, but we had only been seeing each other for a few months and both of us aren't the type to rush things.