A Great Recession

What I am about to tell you happened in 2009 at the lowest point in the Great Recession. Markets were melting down. Folks were hanging on to their jobs with a death grip, and foreclosures were piling up. I was one of the casualties.

For almost 20 years, I had worked for the Central City Free Press, rising to the position of editor and columnist. Although the Press survived when many other major metro dailies did not, it didn't survive without sacrifice and layoffs. Along with dozens of coworkers, I lost my job.

Meanwhile, the large company my wife, Jane, worked for had its own version of cutting back. Scores of white men in the their late fifties and early sixties were forced to take early retirement. That meant she was able to move up into the position of general counsel and chief legal officer vacated by her old boss. The company saved money by paying the new folks less in salaries and bonuses. Even with that limitation, it meant a pay raise for her.

After our two boys were in bed asleep, one night not long after my lay off, we sat down to talk about it. She pointed out that if we went without paying a nanny or au pair — ours had just quit — and I became 'Mr. Mom,' we still would net $10,000 ahead of where we were.

"If you get any free lance jobs, then that's just extra money," Laura said with a smile. "You don't have to. It's just an option to consider."

We talked about it. We talked about my prospects, about my teaching part-time at Bayard University, about doing nonprofit work and how that might grow into a paying job. In the end, we always circled back to the idea of me becoming the homemaker. Laura didn't insult my masculinity by calling it that, but that's what it was. In the end, it's what happened.

I became the primary parent for our kids -- meals, shuttle service, mediation. I became the cook and cleaner. Funny thing was, I liked it, and so did my kids. We'd never been closer. I even managed to squeeze in some paid blogging and writing during the day while they were in school. My relationship with Laura also changed.

Work was a grind, and the added responsibilities at the office were a new and heavy weight on her. Most days, Laura arrived home stressed and tired, rolling in just in time for dinner. I had my own stresses, but they actually seemed less. Plus, on most weekdays, I could manage an afternoon nap before I picked up the kids. It was reinvigorating. Once homework and baths were squared away, I would put the kids to bed, then attend to Laura. I'd fix her a glass of wine or a cocktail if she wanted it, and she would plop her head or feet in my lap while she told me about her day and we watched TV.

Now, I've always had a little bit of a foot fetish. Nothing too intense or obsessive, but it was there nevertheless. Rubbing her feet with a little oil or moisturizer became part of our routine. My getting a semi-hard erection while doing so also became a routine part of that act of service. Until one fateful night, Laura was too distracted by the TV, telling me about her day or simply blissed out to notice that. However, that night in January, I was in my boxers, and we hadn't had sex in several days.

At the exact same time that I noticed my hard cock had escaped the fly of my boxers, Laura noticed, too.

"Well, I guess you enjoy rubbing my feet as much as I do," she said with a little laugh. "Wifey's clit is so big tonight."

We had both become comfortable enough in my new role that our conversation sometimes was sprinkled with playful, mocking pet names like "wifey." I would sometimes tease her back by calling her "boss" or "bitch-queen."

Laura grazed my cock with her naked foot, eliciting an involuntary moan from me. She chuckled, sat up and wrapped her hand around my hard shaft.

"God, you are hard as a rock. Is this really turning you on, baby?"

I replied with a breathless yes, and she giggled.

Before we go further, I should admit here that during the day at home I had taken sometimes to cruising certain porn sites. It had been partially accidental that I had stumbled on some domestic femdom ones, though. I'd always found BDSM and roleplaying somewhat silly, like adults playing cowboys and Indians, but I now found that these things became a turn on. Maybe it was my new role in our household or maybe it was a tendency lying latent or dormant in me for a long time. Nevertheless, I was somewhat prepped for, even eager to accept Laura's sexual assertiveness.

For a minute or two, she silently stroked my cock and teased my balls with her feet. Laura then noticed the bead of precum that had formed on the urethral opening of my cock. She sat up and then swiped it onto her finger. I think she shocked and surprised us both by depositing the drop onto my tongue and into my gaping, panting mouth. Both of us blushed. She smiled, and I swallowed.

"I think wifey should do her duty and give her man a nice, long blowjob. Don't you think?"

I nodded.

"Get up and strip for me."

In less than a minute, I stood before her completely naked, completely erect and completely hers. I was so mesmerized by the experience that I wasn't even nervous about the kids waking up and finding us like this in the living room. I was ready to perform for Laura, ready to serve. I was turned on like nothing else, at least since I was in college.

With warmth and love and just a bit of steel, Laura smiled at me. She stood and slipped off her panties, past her black thigh-highs, to her feet. Next, Laura removed her top and bra. Except for her skirt and stockings, she was naked. Laura sat like a queen on the edge of the sofa.

"Get down on your hands and knees and crawl to me, wifey. I want you to make me happy," she said.

I complied and resting on my haunches, I knelt before my new queen.

Laura took my face in her hands and stroked it. She ran her fingers through my hair for a few seconds, then took my head and her hands and pushed me down. She didn't want me to kiss and lick her thighs or engage in any preliminaries. No, Laura guided my lips and face directly to where she wanted them to be, between her legs and nuzzling her hot, wet delta. I'd never found her so wet.

Since earning her promotion, Laura had stopped shaving her pussy, and it had grown very fast. It was thick dark mass of curls, and I loved it. I never thought I would, but I did. Otherwise, her pussy was trimmed and clipped into a neat V-shape, but it was natural with that delta. I felt it against the bridge of my nose and the bottom of my forehead as my mouth worship and drank from her. My tongue lapped hungrily, desperately at her lips, licking up her juice, circling her clit and plunging below.

"Oh, God, that's good," she gasped and whispered. "Keep it up, wifey. You are such a good little bitch. I love it, you cocksucking slut."

I loved it, too. I'd told myself that my new femdom fantasies where just that, fantasies. They were something a bored, 40-something man like myself could explore but wouldn't enjoy in reality. After all, I was a man in a straight marriage. I had put the lie to my own thoughts now. My cock had never been harder, and it felt so right. I had to admit it. I was desperate to please Laura. Apparently, I was succeeding.

Laura's moans increased in frequency and volume, and then she surprised me by pushing me away. I lied back on my elbows while she stood and composed herself. Then, she surprised me again.

"Lie flat," she commanded. I obeyed.

She took a few steps and straddled my torso. Despite the low light of the room, I could see up through her skirt to pussy, dark and pungent. Her scent filled the room and it was intoxicating. My queen stared down at me, arms akimbo. Her eyes were clear and shined with strength and power. Wordlessly, she relaxed her arms and descended. Her skirt enveloped my head like the hood around the head of a condemned man. Here was the death of my old life and the beginning of a new one. How perfect it was that I should worship pussy when it was pussy that brought me into this world. Now, it would be pussy; hot wet cunt; that would remake me.

I don't remember what followed precisely. My state of mind was ecstatic now, not susceptible to detail and memorization. Intense images and feelings, I do recall. The heat and taste of Laura's pussy, her juices, the feel of her knees and thighs on each side of my face — sometimes touching, sometimes like distant pillars holding aloft her Delta, the intoxicating scent of her in my nostrils, the weight of her as she sometimes came to rest on my chin and mouth. Her nectar poured down my chin onto my neck. I licked and licked and endlessly I licked. Both of us were hungry virgins again. Her moans were like hymns to me. Her orgasms stair-stepped — a small one, almost imperceptible to me; a second one — intense but still in the realm of past experience. Between the first and second, I licked at her thighs, her bush. Between the second and the third, I blew and snuffled at her quim. Finally, she said, "One more."

I resumed my licking, slowly exploring where she was most sensitive and where I could apply myself with vigor. I paced things slowly.

Meanwhile, Laura spoke to me.

"My god, I've never felt you lick me like this before, Rob," she said between breaths. "It's amazing. I think wifey is going to need to do this a lot more. Will you be a good wifey? Do you want to?"

I answered in the affirmative and begged her to let me.

"Don't worry, you'll get an endless supply of my pussy. I'll take care of wifey, too. I have some ideas maybe. Maybe I'll have you come down to the office and lick me; feed you lunch. Would that turn wifey-slut on? Would it?"

Again, the answer was yes.

As the sexual tension built in her loins again, the words ceased and became grunts and groans. My pace increased. I was lapping at her, hungry for her juicy cunt. I circled her clit with my tongue and plunged down again to lick inside her. Slowly, very slowly, I licked up, not neglecting in part of her I could reach with my tongue. Eventually, I peaked at her clit again. I circled it and licked at the sweet spot nearby.

Laura's gasps and cries turned into something almost guttural and strangled. I had brought her to frenzy. Her legs jerked, her pussy now beat against my chin and mouth and she exploded, bouncing. Laura drenched me, rubbing her delta against my face and forehead then collapsed, falling forward onto the palms of her hand. She was on all fours above me.

Gasping for air and dripping sweat from her face, she uttered a single exclamation, "Holy fuck!" and then collapsed completely onto the floor, facedown.

I chuckled softly in pleasure.

Eventually, we picked ourselves up, went to the bedroom and put on robs. The next order of business was to make some cocktails, gather some midnight snacks and talk.

More on how that conversation unfolded in part two.