Temptress in the Temple
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My wife Beth and I take our fitness very seriously. The body is a temple of the Lord, and so we exercise regularly, I run three miles each morning. Not to be prideful, but the result shows in our trim, athletic figures, and I am glad to say that many people at the church we attend take a similar view of respecting the Lord’s creation this way– in fact I belong to a running group with some of the other lay pastors.
I am particularly proud of my little Beth this way, because it is not what you would say of most of her family– that they respect the body either in terms of health, or in terms of behavior. This was brought home to me when her sister Jodie came to stay with us for a few weeks. Facially Jodie resembles my wife, except that unlike Beth, she is somewhat overweight– not obese, like so many of the women you see around here, but definitely well-padded, with a much larger chest, broader behind, and rounder face than my Bethie.
One might think that as a result she would dress more demurely, to hide her figure, but in fact the opposite is quite true– Jodie wears hip-hugging jeans (and there’s a lot there for the jeans to hug), low necklines showing her ample cleavage, and as I noticed the other day, she’s often found in high heels (which I was shocked to hear her describe to my wife as “f– me pumps”), perching her behind up higher and making it move suggestively with each step.
Now it may seem as if I had no business putting so much thought into the manner of my wife’s sister’s dress. I was certain that it was not because of any kind of sexual attraction– how could I be attracted to someone overweight like Jodie when a beautiful, toned, athletic woman like Beth was my wife? It’s true, there might be some momentary carnal attraction in her large bosom, compared to which Beth was quite flat, and in her rounded, jiggly thighs, so much in contrast to Beth’s lean, almost masculine flanks, but that was just lust in my heart, not a reflection of my true feelings, which remained focused on my beautiful, Lord-given bride.
It was the “F.M.” pumps that I found myself thinking about, however– again, not because I was lustful toward Jodie in any way, but I was struck by the effect of the high heels. Beth always wears repectable flat shoes, and I love her for that, but this was perhaps the first time I really understood how heels set off a woman’s leg, stressing the definition of the calf (and I was surprised to see more muscle definition on Jodie there than I expected) and making the whole leg seem shapely. Perhaps Beth would like a pair like that, just to wear at home, escort ataşehir or on vacation– with her far more muscular calves she would certainly show off the same effect. Though it wouldn’t really be the same as it was with Jodie, where there was such a tapering effect from the round bottom down to the calves, the ankle, the tiny pink toes sticking out at the end, each one dotted with bright red nail polish. Many times I found myself gazing at those toes, the chubby little foot inside the shoe, the gentle curve sloping upward, up to– well, up to what, I had better not think about, I knew.
One night, though, the kids were playing on the hill beneath our house– we have a couple of acres stretching down to a little creek, and we can watch them play from the back porch. Beth went down to see what they were up to, leaving Jodie and me on the porch, catecornered in two chairs. Suddenly Jodie kicks off her sandals and plops one of her chubby feet right in my lap.
I looked up, startled. She looked at me with a wicked grin. “See something you like?”
I couldn’t think of anything to say in response– I would have denied it, but the words stuck in my throat because they weren’t true, her foot, the red-painted toenails, the little piggies at the end– I liked it all, I knew I did.
“I’ve seen you looking at my feet,” she said. “I’ve seen how you watch me walk around in my fuck-me pumps.” I looked down to see what Beth was doing, my heart racing, head pounding. She was playing with the kids, oblivious to what was going on on the porch. “Does Beth know you like feet? Do you lick her toes while the two of you do it? Or doesn’t she have the shape that turns you on?”
She rubbed my crotch with her toes and the ball of her feet, and purred with recognition at the erection she found inside. Beth ran after the kids, laughing, she saw none of this. Jodie moved her other foot up and wrapped the two of them around my cock inside my shirts and began to massage it, up and down. I looked at her feet, I wanted her toes in my mouth, I wanted to run my hand up her chunky calf, up her thick, soft, thighs, up to her curvy, fat ass, to knead it in my hands as I opened her up and dove into her steaming wet… that was all it took, in a moment I came in my pants, vigorously, moaning– I looked down to the creek in a panic and could see Beth looking up at the house.
Jodie must have seen her too, because she quickly knocked her tea over into my lap and said, loud enough for Beth to hear, “I’m so sorry! You should go change and throw that right in the wash before it stains.”
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When I came back Beth and Jodie were talking on the porch and it was as if none of it had happened– as if it had been a sinful dream. We put the kids to bed and we turned in ourselves a little while later. Beth and I cuddled in bed for a minute but I couldn’t help but think– what would it be like to be with a much larger woman, a softer woman? Holding Beth was almost like holding a boy (God forbid)– what would it be like to have Jodie’s bulk under me rocking with each thrust? What would it be like… to suck on those chubby little toes, run my hand up and down those thick, tapering thighs, as I drove deep into Jodie’s womanly mass?
I fell asleep for 10 or 15 minutes, I think, but it was a fitful rest and the first noise brought me out of it. My thoughts turned quickly back to Jodie and before long I was too disturbed, and hard, to be able to get back to sleep. I got up from the bed– Beth didn’t stir– and stepped out of our bedroom, knowing that what I was going to do was sinful, could end my marriage and wreck my life, and yet– I couldn’t help it. I was in sin’s iron grip.
The door to the guest bedroom was open. I looked in and, since it was a warm night, it was easy to make out the outline of Jodie’s round form under a single cotton sheet on the tall fourposter bed. Better yet– oh, bless you– I mean, blast you Satan– one of her chubby little feet stuck out from the cover, almost white in the moonlight. I reached inside my pajamas and rubbed my rock-hard cock at the sight of it, but that wasn’t enough. If I was to be ruined, let it all come down upon me now.
I walked over to the bed and pulled my pants down far enough for my cock to stick out. I touched it against her foot, fully expecting her to wake up and scream, and my life of sin to be exposed. Nothing. I rubbed the head of my cock, already wet with precum, against the ball of her foot and the place between the big toe and the next one. Still no reaction. I moved it back and forth, in my hand and against her foot, and I felt release building inside me.
Suddenly she stirred. I froze. She rolled onto her back and then– oh sweet Jesus protect a sinner– she opened one eye. I expected a scream, but what followed was worse, far worse. She looked me over but good; she read me like the Good Book. She knew what a miserable prisoner of sin and lust she had made me into, and she smiled at the sight of me, crawling to her for more.
And then she pressed her foot against my cock, massaging her, while maltepe escort bayan reaching up into her blouse and pulling one of her big tits out. She squeezed the nipple, then licked at it and sucked it into her mouth. As her chunky thigh pistoned up and down, her foot working my cock, I moaned as softly as I could and I saw glistening spurts of my seed fly up, catch moonlight, and fall down upon her foot and between her toes.
Once my shame was complete I stood there, stock still, unable to know what to do next. She looked at me– right through me– and then she shook her foot, spattered with my cum, and whispered, “Don’t you think you better clean it up?”
I looked around for a towel or Kleenex but she stopped me. “Get on your knees,” she said, “and clean my foot with your tongue.”
I was instantly revolted– and yet the command, to lick her foot, to suck on those toes, was irresistible. I bent down and touched my tongue to the cool cum and sucked it inside. It wasn’t horrible, I sucked it down and swallowed the first glob quickly enough; the second one I kept on my tongue and swirled around her big toe before swallowing it and licking it clean, bobbing my head up and down on the toe. As I did she spread her legs apart and I saw her hand disappear inside her panties and start to rub, up and down. I reached up to touch her leg but she swatted my hand away. Apparently I was only to service her foot, and so I redoubled my efforts, licking up every bit of my cum, making sure her foot was spic-and-span as she came, her large body rocking up and down on the bed, her thick thighs clamping around her hand.
* * *
She doesn’t let me touch her, though she has no qualms about being totally nude as I service her, even using a little sex toy on her pussy and ass while I lick at her feet. All I am permitted to do is to rub my cock against her foot, cum all over her feet, clean them up, and dream of what it would be like to have her bountiful body in my arms, to be enveloped in her soft, plush size, to ram against her broad bottom while fucking her.
I spoke to her of divorcing Beth and marrying her, but she says that would be worse than adultery, and I suppose that’s right. So lately I’ve taken to finding excuses for us to miss this or that session of exercise, and for eating richer meals at home. Beth has gained about ten pounds in the past year, already her bottom looks more like a woman’s and less like a high school boy’s– and after a few months of being out of sync with each other, we seem to be having a better time in bed again. I tried licking her foot the other night and she pulled it away, laughing, saying it tickled. But I have a lifetime to try.
And we’re having lemon cream pie for dessert tonight.
* * *
Look for more BBW stories by Joris K. Huysmans on my profile (linked above and below the story).
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