Foreplay
by Sonofjack, sonofjackwell@gmail.com
A husband and wife strive to keep the magic alive in their marriage.


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If you're a fan of my stories (Do I have any actual fans out there?) then you
might recognize the couple in this story. They've appeared before, but I'm not
going to say in which story or stories. I also write custom stories on
commission so if you like my writing style and would like me to make a story
of your personal strong girl fantasies, let me know. And if you don't want a
custom story, I'd still love to read your comments. Email me at
sonofjackwell@gmail.com

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The other night I was sitting in my living room minding my own business
watching television. For me "watching television" usually means watching a
classic movie. Old movies are my greatest passion besides my gorgeous wife
Megan and our two year old son Max.

Speaking of my wife and son, that's what my wife was doing at the time -
putting Max to bed. Just as my movie was getting to its most dramatic part,
Megan walked into the room.

I've heard other husbands say that they're used to the way their wives look.
That just isn't the case with me. I'm still just as turned on by Megan as I
was the first time I saw her - maybe more so. If you could see her, you'd
understand why.

Megan is a tall beauty. At just a tad over six feet tall, Megan is about an
inch taller than me. Every time she walks into a room my heart flutters
slightly. She has a very pleasing oval shaped face that most supermodels would
envy with her hypnotic, cat-like green eyes and her rosy, high cheeks. Her
nose is a cute little button, her lips are full and pouting and her complexion
is flawless. Her face is all soft, elegant curves and glow, and it's
beautifully framed by her long, naturally blonde, softly curling hair.

Just as most supermodels would envy Megan's face, most fitness models would
kill to have her body. Her figure is a phenomenal 40DD-23-36. Her large, soft
round breasts seem to defy gravity, and her sexy ass is like a perfect peach.
I say that because I find myself constantly wanting to nibble it. She also has
a tight, trim, flat tummy, and her long legs are muscular and perfectly shaped
for maximum appeal.

As sexy and fit as Megan's body normally looks, she looks even more fit and
strong when she flexes her powerful muscles. Her biceps especially get my
attention. When she flexes them they turn in two perfect, feminine peaks of
power. They have both the size and roundness of two baseballs. Her thighs and
calves are equally impressive. When she wills it to be so, her soft, flat
tummy turns into ripped, washboard abs.

And believe me, as strong as she looks, my wife is much, much stronger.

When Megan walked into the room, she was wearing a short silk robe. Despite my
interest in the movie I wondered what delights she was hiding under that robe.
"Did Max go down alright?" I asked.

"Yes, I only had to read him "Green Eggs and Ham" twice and get him one glass
of water tonight," she replied.

"Do you think he'll stay down tonight?" I asked.

"So far so good," she responded. Recently Max had gotten into the habit of
getting back up after being put to bed. It had only happened a few times so it
was nothing to consult the child rearing book over. Still, it was something we
were keeping our eye on.

Megan looked towards the TV and saw the black and white flicker on the screen.
She made her usually "old movie face" which is to say, she wasn't interested.
"Where's the remote?" she asked.

"Why?" I responded.

"What do you mean why? I want the remote. That's all you need to know," she
said forcefully.

"But, Honey, I'm watching this," I explained.

"Not any longer," she said, "The football game is about to come on." Oh God,
how I hated watching sports on television.

"But, Honey, can't the game wait for ten minutes? This is almost over," I
explained

"Do you know where the remote is?" she asked pointedly.

"Yes, Honey, I have it," I replied. I held up my hand and showed it to her.

"Give it to me," she ordered.

"Do I have to?" I asked.

"What a ridiculous question. Of course you have to. You know you have to do
whatever I tell you to do, and you know why," she said.

It was true, and we both knew it. I had to do whatever Megan told me to do
because if I didn't, she would use her super-strength to punish me. That's
right; I said "super-strength." Not only was I married to an incredible
gorgeous woman with amazing tits, a spectacular ass and unbelievably sexy
feminine muscles, but she was also stronger than any ten men alive.

I've seen her lift cars over her head with one hand. I've seen her bend five
inch thick steel bars. I've seen her crush rocks with her bare hands and punch
concrete blocks into powder.

I loved having a wife that possessed such incredible super-strength. That
turned me on as much as her sexy, gorgeous face and body, but it also meant
that she was the boss. Megan was not shy in the least about using her vastly
superior strength to make me do whatever she wanted.

"Please, Honey, let me finish my movie," I whined.

"Hand..Me..That..Remote," she said. The tone in her voice told me she wasn't
kidding. When I handed it to her she crushed it to bits in her powerful hand.
"Now, since you're being such a baby, I want you to get up and walk over to
the television and change the channel manually to the football game.

I did what I was told. It would not have been healthy for me to do anything
else. I had to search the television to find the right buttons to push since
this was the first time I'd ever changed the channels without using the
remote.

When I did as I was told, I turned and started to leave the room. "Where are
you going?" Megan asked.

"I thought I'd go catch up on my reading," I said.

"Come over and sit down next to me and watch the game," she said.

"But, Honey, you know I hate watching sports," I said.

"Get over here and sit down next to your hot wife," she said. I could tell
that my defiance was getting on her nerves. I went over and sat down with a
huff.

"Oh, stop pouting," she said, "How many times have you seen that stupid movie
anyway?"

"It's only one of the all-time greatest classics ever," I protested, "And I
only wanted to watch the last ten minutes."

"Yeah, well that's why God invented blu-ray players," she said, her voice
dripping with sarcasm.

"Besides, I was going to write about is on my blog tomorrow," I pointed out. I
write a blog dedicated to classic movies. My friend Laurie helped me set it
up.

It started out as just a hobby, but for the past three years my blog, plus the
classic movie guidebook I wrote based on my blog, has been making money. In
fact, my writing now brings in more money than Megan's job. I think that she
feels a little threatened by that since she's been the traditional breadwinner
for most of our marriage.

"What's the big deal? You know how it ends. The big ape climbs up the Empire
State Building with the girl and gets shot down by some planes. He falls and
dies and the girl gets kissed. The end. Big deal!"

"You left out the best part," I protested.

"Oh yeah, what's that?" she asked.

"You left out the last line," I told her.

"What is it?" she asked.

"When a police officer tells Carl Denham that one of the planes got Kong,
Denham says, 'Oh no, it wasn't the airplanes. It was beauty killed the beast.'
It's only the best last line in film history!"

"Well, if you ask me, it's stupid!" she said.

"Stupid? The last line of King Kong is stupid?" I couldn't believe what I was
hearing. "It's a hell of a lot better than any idiotic football game," I said.

"Honey, do you think I'm beautiful?" Megan asked

"Of course, Megan, you know I do. Why?"

"Because if you don't shut up about that stupid movie, this beauty is going to
kill you!" she said. Then to put a point on it she asked, "Is that clear,
little man?"

"Yes, Megan," I replied.

"Yes, who?" she asked.

This was her way of telling me that I better call her by her official title.
"Yes, Master," I replied.

"Besides, I've about had it with that blog of yours. Since you've been
spending so much time writing, things have really started to slip around
here," Megan observed.

"But that's why we hired Maria," I said, "To pick up the slack." Maria was our
Brazilian maid. Before Maria and my blog, I handled all the domestic duties
around here by myself.

"Yeah, well what about tonight?" Megan asked. "Tonight was Maria's night off.
It used to be when I got home from work you'd have a gourmet meal waiting for
me. What did we have for supper tonight? Beanie-weenies!"

"Now come on, Honey, you know that's not fair. We had beanie-weenies because
they're Max's favorite," I pointed out.

"Yes well, I remember a time not so long ago when what I liked meant something
around here," she said.

This actually kind of got to me. It is true that before my blog, I prided
myself on keeping a spotless home and preparing five-star, home cooked meals
for my sexy and strong master. I'd be lying if I said that some of that has
started to slip since I started my blog and since Max was born.

"Megan, I'm sorry," I said, "Pleasing you is still very important to me."

"Good because right now it would please me to have my slave-husband shut up
about his stupid blog and get busy rubbing my feet while I watch the football
game," she said.

Dang, was she is a mood! But I figured that maybe she was just feeling a
little neglected. After all, I did pretty much focus all my attention on
serving her before Max was born. She probably just needed a little TLC.
"Sounds like a plan," I said as I patted my lap and said, "Give me those feet,
Sweetie, and I'll massage them like there's no tomorrow."

"No!" she said, "I want you to get down on the floor and rub them, Slave."

Okay then. I could see that she was in the mood to assert her authority. After
all, she was the master of the house, and I had no illusions that our
relationship was one of equals. When push came to shove, she was master and I
was slave. We both knew it.

I sat down on the floor at her feet and began rubbing. I really didn't mind.
Even Megan's feet are sexy, and rubbing them got me a little turned on. It
felt right that I should be serving my master like this. Then she said, "And I
don't want to hear another word about giant apes or great last lines, or blogs
or beanie-weenies!"

She was really spoiling for a fight. The smart thing would have been to say
"Yes, Master," and just keep massaging. But I didn't do the smart thing. I did
a stupid thing - a very, very, very stupid thing. I muttered something under
my breath.

"What was that?" Megan asked.

"Nothing," I replied.

"No... I'm sure you said something, Slave; what was it?"

"I said that you're just jealous because my blog brings in more income than
you do," I said. As soon as I heard the words out loud, I knew I was in
trouble.

Megan stood up and looked down at me and said, "What did you just say to me?"

I jumped up on my feet and put my hands out in front of me in an act of
contrition and said, "Please, Master, I'm sorry; I didn't mean it. Please."

"You think that I'm jealous of you?" she asked. "Don't forget who is in charge
around here. I don't care if your little blog brings in a million dollars a
day. I'm still the master and you're still my weak, little, sissy-boy slave."

"Yes, Master, that's one hundred percent correct," I agreed.

Megan removed her robe to reveal that she was wearing a frilly bra and thong
panties underneath. She looked soooo sexy. She also looked very powerful
because her muscles were tensed which only made her look even more sexy.
"You're really asking for it, Mister," she said.

I immediately fell down to my knees and put my hands in front of me like I was
praying, "Please, Master, please, forgive my male stupidity."

She stood over me and tensed all over. Every super-strong muscle on her
super-sexy body popped up to almost twice their normal size. "Say you're
sorry," she demanded.

"I'm sorry," I cried, "Please, master, I'm so so so very sorry."

"Kiss my feet, Slave. Kiss my feet and beg me to forgive you."

I groveled at my master's feet. "Please, (kiss kiss) Master, (lick lick)
please, (kiss kiss) forgive me (Lick lick). I'm (kiss kiss) sorry (lick lick)
I'm so (kiss kiss) sorry (lick lick). She allowed me to worship her feet for
several minutes.

"Look up at me, Slave," Megan ordered. I looked up. She looked so powerful and
alluring. Her huge breasts were straining against the flimsy material of her
frilly bra. It looked like they would spill out at any second. "Do you
honestly think that a woman who is as beautiful and as super-strong as I am
could ever be jealous of a weak, little slave like you?"

"No, Master, of course not. I know that I'm barely good enough to be the dirt
beneath your feet. Please, forgive what I said," I pleaded.

She turned around and stuck her beautiful, amazing, spectacular ass in my
face. "You'd like to kiss that sexy ass wouldn't you, Slave?"

"Yes, Master," I replied. I wasn't lying.

"Then beg! Beg to be allowed to kiss my sweet ass," she demanded.

"Please, Master, please, allow me to kiss your sweet, perfect ass," I begged.

"What else would you like to do to my ass?" she asked.

"I would like to lick and kiss and nibble on your sweet, sexy ass," I replied.
"Please, Master, please say I can."

She turned back around. "You make me so mad sometimes, Slave. You're lucky
enough to be married to a woman as beautiful and desirable as me, and you
don't appreciate it!"

"But I do appreciate it, Master; really, I do."

"Then tell me. What are some of ht things that make me so special," she asked.

"You have beautiful big tits and a spectacular, round ass," I replied.

"Yes, I do," she agreed, "And how many times have I cradled you in my strong
arms and allowed you to suck on my huge, amazing tits? How many times have I
lifted you up and wrapped my huge tits around your hard cock while I raised
your body up and down? How many times have I allowed you the honor of letting
you kiss and lick my sweet ass?"

"Many, many times," I admitted.

"And what else about me is so special?" she asked.

"You have long, sexy, legs," I replied.

"How many times have I wrapped these long, sexy muscular legs around you?"

"I'm not sure, Master," I said, "So many times that I've lost count."

"What else do you love about me?" she asked.

"I love your beautiful face - you hypnotic, green eyes and your full,
delicious lips," I responded.

"And how many men do you think would give anything to be allowed to gaze
lovingly into these beautiful, feline eyes or to kiss these sumptuous lips the
way you get to all the time?"

"I'm sure that almost any man would, my wife-master," I agreed, "And I know
that I'm lucky to get to be your slave-husband."

Do you? Think of how many times you've felt my lips around your cock and how
every time I suck your hard cock that I don't stop until I drain every last
drop of cum from your balls."

"It's true, Master, you are very generous that way."

"But what is it that makes me so amazing? What is it that you need more than
anything - that you can't live without?" she asked.

"I-it's you strength, Master. It's you awesome, terrible strength. It's
knowing that you have the strength to lift two tons with one hand. It's your
strength and your sexy muscles that I need more than anything," I told my
wife- master.

"You love to feel my strong biceps in your hands don't you, Slave?"

"Yes, Master."

"And you love to massage my hard thighs and calves and hard, round glutes
don't you, Slave?"

"Yes, Master,"

"You love to kiss and lick my beautiful feminine biceps and thighs and quads
and calves and ripped abs and glutes, don't you, Slave?"

"Oh yes, Master; yes, you know I do."

"You love licking and kissing my wet pussy don't you?"

"I consider it an honor, Master," I replied.

"You would gladly get on your knees and grovel at my beautiful, dainty feet
for the privilege and the honor of being allowed to worship my sexy,
super-powerful muscles. Isn't that right, Slave-husband?"

"You know it's true, Master; you know it's true because I do it almost every
night. You make me beg and grovel almost every night, Master."

"And do you know why I force you to your knees almost every night and make you
beg and grovel and plead for permission to worship my sexy, super-powerful
body?" Megan asked.

"B-b-because you know I... I love it," I replied.

"That's right, Slave. I know you love it. But I don't think you appreciate
everything I do for you, Slave."

"But I do, Master, I do!"

"Silence, Slave! How dare you contradict your master!"

"You're right, Master, I'm an ungrateful dog. You should put a leash on me and
make me walk on all fours around the block so that the whole world can see
that I am the dog and you are the master. You should make me get on my knees
in public and kiss your feet."

"That's the first smart thing you've said all night," Megan agreed, "And I
might just do it," she said.

"I would be proud for the world to see me as your dog, Master." But no matter
how subservient I was, Megan just seemed to get angrier and angrier. Finally
she grabbed me by the shirt and lifted me high into the air. She made her
other hand into a fist.

"Do you have any idea what I could do to you if I hit you with this fist?" she
asked.

Just the thought of it was enough to make me break down and start bawling like
a little kid. "Please, Master, please, don't hurt me with your awesome
strength. I-I know that you could kill me with one punch. I'm sorry that I
made you angry. Please, don't hit me, Master, please."

She held me aloft for what seemed like several minutes. Her fist was shaking.
My fate was hanging in the balance.

"Mommy, are you hurting Daddy?" a little voice asked. It was our two year old
son Max. He had gotten out of bed without us knowing.

Megan gently lowered me to the ground. "No, Baby, it's all right. Mommy would
never hurt Daddy. Mommy loves Daddy very, very much"

I quickly wiped away my tears with my shirt sleeve. "It's okay, Buddy. Mommy
and Daddy were only pretending." We both talked to Max in calm, reassuring
voices.

"What are you doing out of bed, Buddy," I asked Max.

"I was thirsty," he said.

"Well... go back to bed, Son. Daddy will bring you a drink of water in a
minute."

"Okay," he said, "And will you read me another story?"

"We'll see, Buddy," I replied. I didn't want to commit myself. I was so turned
on by what Megan was doing before Max showed up that I could hardly (pun
intended) wait to get back to her. Once Max scampered back to his room I said
to her, "I guess we'll have to be more careful from now on."

"I guess so," she agreed. "From now on I guess we'll have to confine that kind
of activity to the privacy of our bedroom."

"Our little boy is growing up, but he's still too young to understand what
foreplay is," I concluded.

"Especially the kind of foreplay that we engage in," Megan said with a sweet,
naughty giggle.

"And might I say, Sweetheart, that you were especially hot tonight. For a
second there I thought you might really hit me," I said.

"Darling, if I don't genuinely scare so bad that you piss your pants, what's
the point? Besides... what makes you so sure I still won't hit you?" she asked
with a seductive twinkle in her eye.

"I'll get Max his water," I said.

"Okay, but hurry to bed, Slave," Megan said, "I'm in the mood to wear my
Wonder Woman outfit tonight."

I hurried and got Max his water, and I tucked him in. However, he did not get
another story that night. Daddy had other things on his mind.

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Do you know what other story or stories this couple appeared in? Drop me a
line if you think you know. Send your comments and/or commission story
requests to sonofjackwell@gmail.com