What She Likes Even More

I was engrossed in the book I was reading when my wife came up behind me and kissed the top of my head.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.” I said. I heard her walking away, but turned to smile at her anyway. She didn’t see me, but I did see her—and I’d looked in time to catch a split second of her nude form as she walked into the bathroom, lit by the warm, yellow lights in there.

I looked back at the book, but I knew it would be a minute before I could get myself to focus on reading again.

I heard the shower start, the curtain pull open, then close as she stepped in. She’d left the door open, which we always do for ventilation because the bathroom fan wasn’t working well. Right now, though, I couldn’t help but feel like it was an invitation. It wasn’t, of course. After all, if she wanted me to join her, she’d tell me so. She’s never been one to hide what she wants. But that didn’t mean I couldn’t ask.

I set the book down and stood up, but then I thought about it a moment. That glimpse had certainly gotten me going, but every wonderful thought that had run through my head in the last minute didn’t involve a shower. No, what I really wanted—and what I knew she’d most enjoy—would require a bed.

Showering before sex opens up certain possibilities (two of which I was particularly excited for), but it was always complicated by her hair, which needed special attention while it dried to avoid becoming a huge, frizzy mass. I didn’t mind it that way, of course, and we weren’t going anywhere this evening, so I decided to see if I could convince her otherwise.

I walked into the bathroom, the steam still heavy despite the door being open. “Can I make a request?” I asked through the curtain.

“Is that request to join me in the shower?” She asked.

I was surprised. “Well, actually, I wanted to know if you’d like to join me after the shower.”

A pause. “I guess I can wash my hair again in the morning.”

Yes. I thought. And I didn’t even have to ask!

“See you in a minute.” I told her. I opened a cabinet and pulled out some of the softer towels.

“What are you doing?”

“You’ll see.” I headed toward the bedroom.

A few minutes later, I heard the shower turn off, followed by a few moments of nothing but the (inadequate) bathroom fan. I then heard the shower curtain open, so I headed down the hall, stopping in the bathroom doorway. There she stood, drying her hair with the towel, her body lit by that perfect, warm light. We should light our bedroom like this, I thought.

“So, what’s the surprise?” She asked, smiling.

I walked toward her and stood at the edge of the tub. “I’ll give you a hint: you’re already well-dressed for it.”

I put my right arm around her back and my left behind her knees. “Waa!” She said playfully as she fell into me. I carried her out of the bathroom and down the hall, her towel still wrapped around her hair. It was still damp, as was most of her body, but I’d prepared for that.

We crossed the threshold of our bedroom and she saw I’d laid towels on the middle of the bed, with another at the head. I set her down on them. I then handed her some more towels to cover herself with, since the room was still fairly cold. She did, then pulled the bed sheet on top of those.

“So the real question,” I teased, “is why I’m still so fully dressed.”

“Well, I do really like that shirt.” She said, playing along.

“Hm, me too. But I would hate for you to feel under-dressed.”

“Oh, yes, we can’t have that. The shame I would feel!”

I unbuttoned each button, top to bottom, then slid it off. I still had a white undershirt beneath. “Darn it all, still overdressed!”

She nodded. “Definitely not acceptable.”

I pulled it off, leaving only my jeans on, but those would stay for a while longer. I knelt at the foot of the bed, checking to make sure the pillows propping up her head gave her a decent view.  I set my elbows a few inches on either side of her feet, then firmly but gently grasped her left foot. I ran my thumbs up and down the sole, squeezing here and there as I went. I worked my hands up and down, giving each toe its own attention, each part of her foot, even getting as high as her ankle. I then did the same for her other foot. Then came the fun part—something I’d only done for her a few times, and not recently.

My feet were far too sensitive for her to ever touch—something I’d inherited from my dad—but she had the privilege of having feet that responded well to pleasure while not being ticklish. Just to be sure, though, I checked her face every few seconds to gauge how I was doing. Despite our banter, she isn’t one to give much auditory feedback during sex or foreplay, save changes in her breathing. Her face, however, gives away precisely how she’s feeling.

I leaned forward and let my lips graze her toe. I kissed it once, then twice, then a third time for good measure, then, positioning my head directly over it, lowered my head and took it in my mouth.

She elicited a whimper—a rare treat, but hopefully it meant I was doing something extra special. I rotated my head slightly one way, then another, bobbed slowly up and down, and worked my tongue around her toe slowly, so slowly. A quick glimpse at her eyes and I discovered she wasn’t even watching me anymore. Her eyes were nearly closed in bliss.

I moved to the next toe, grabbing the towel at her feet and gently wiping the toe I’d just come from while I worked on the next, giving each toe the love she deserved. When I finished each of them, I adjusted myself and started on the other foot. She was still mostly covered by the towels and sheets, but as I let my hands graze her ankle, sometimes getting as high as her knee, I could feel her body warming up. As if reading my mind, she began to pull the sheets off herself a bit, exposing her breasts and stomach. I, however, was interested in exposing something a little lower.

I finished her last toe, giving it a loving bite as I lifted my head off it. She opened her eyes. She gave an “Mm,” sounding quite satisfied. I unbuttoned and unzipped my jeans, pulling both them and my boxer shorts off. She likely expected me to climb onto the bed and engage in something a little more traditional, and I’m sure she was quite ready for that to happen. But I wasn’t doing this for a reward; I was doing it to please her.

And in that vein, I climbed onto the bed—but stopped halfway up. I made sure to lock eyes with her, seeing as her expression went from expectant to quizzical. I then let my eyes move to my objective, which was above her feet, but still well below her eyes. Currently the only thing covered by the sheet and a towel, I carefully peeled both away to expose her beautiful vulva. I then leaned my head down to do something that was decidedly not unusual for us and had been enjoyed recently. Even so, I could tell she didn’t expect it, not after I’d already done something solely for her. But I was. And so I began.

I kissed her thigh, kissed it many times, higher and higher up her leg until the curly hairs surrounding her vulva touched my cheek. I adjusted my body, moving my knees on either side of her left foot, and let my mouth hover over her clitoris. I breathed on it, slowly with warm air, then quickly with cool air, alternating the way we’d discovered on vacation once. I gave a quick look to her face again, now much closer than it had been down by her toes, and found her mouth slightly open, her breathing much heavier. She was watching me now, clearly very interested in seeing me work.

I moved down ever so slightly and kissed her labia, just a quick kiss at first, then a longer one, then longer. I hummed as I held the kiss with her “lips,” sending vibrations into her that the movement of her body told me was working splendidly. I took the labia between my lips, letting my tongue slide down it, then up, then down again. I felt her hands move to my head, stroking her fingers through my hair. This is something I’ve always loved, even when we were dating, but getting it now was just blowing my mind.

She let her nails graze my scalp here and there, and I reciprocated by pushing my face into her as I licked and kissed. I judged her ready, so I moved up to her clitoris, using the same kiss, then lick, then suck method that I’d used on her labia. Her breathing became even heavier, her hands running through my hair faster, surely leaving it much wilder than we could ever have worried about hers getting.

Then something happened which I did not expect: as her legs moved about in ecstasy, the bottom of her foot came up to rest against my penis. Then the other foot on the other side. The bottoms of her feet enveloped it, and unlike the rest of her body, they stopped moving—for a moment, anyway.

As I continued with my mouth and her with her hands, she began gently squeezing me with her feet. I knew her feet were a bit rough for any actual rubbing, but she’d apparently thought this through, and instead squeezed me from the base up to the head, then reverse, and again and again.

I adjusted my elbows to allow her legs to move around more, accommodating what her feet were doing. It felt amazing. She would move her feet on top and bottom of the shaft, then back to the sides a minute or two later, squeezing all the time.

Meanwhile, I was allowing my full tongue to come out and bless her, licking all up one side of her vulva and down the other in slow, but firm strokes. I then let my tongue rest at the bottom of her vagina, and I slowly, fully entered her.

She took a long, full breath in through her nose and exhaled it with a “Hmmmm” that, for the third time in a single night, gave me audible feedback that was completely uncharacteristic of her, but certainly welcome. I looked up and saw her eyes were closed again, this time quite tightly. I licked inside her, alternating fast and slow, side-to-side, and stroking the roof of her vagina. My nose often pressed into her clitoris for an extra dose of pleasure.

Her feet were having quite the effect on me. I’d started by pleasuring her with them, but they were returning the favor wonderfully, and I realized I was close to the edge. She seemed to realize it as well, and with a few extra-firm squeezes, the orgasm that I hadn’t intended to have that evening came over me like a wave.

My tongue was still busy in her, but that didn’t stop me from moaning, causing some vibrations in her that she clearly appreciated. As I came down from my especially long climax, I rested my hands against her thighs where it met her butt, lightly stroking her skin with my fingernails. This was it for her. I licked rapidly along the roof of her vagina until I knew she was coming. Her back arched, pushing her vulva into my face even more. She let out the most belabored sigh, then let out another, then another. Her fingers’ movement through my hair slowed.

I withdrew my tongue, but kept kissing her there, slowly and very firmly, for a full minute.

I kissed her thighs for a bit, then went up to her knee, then locked eyes with her. Her expression was that of fullest satisfaction. Her breathing was still deep but quick. I crawled atop her on my hands and knees. Her arms rose to embrace me as I lowered myself beside her. She turned and we lay side by side, arms around each other, our legs intertwined. Our noses met, and we held that for a moment before brushing against each other’s cheeks, my head under hers.

We exchanged no words, but rather savored the feelings we might normally express in words, and instead held each other more closely. We lay like that for a long time.