I might be the luckiest man on the satellite. I was born an sole minor to a menage of great riches, I have all the things money can buy, and the most beautiful married woman in the macrocosm who I love, worship and adore with all my heart and mortal. She is literally a looker queen who won competitions in one of the declamatory United States Department of State in America for her statuesque, fit but voluptuous body, cascading halcyon hair, and a font that could establish a thousand ships.

My wife would never have noticed me, as I am hardly a specimen of masculinity, except that I was persistent in my hobby of her, which consisted of constantly showering her with endowment, a Ferrari, a thoroughbred horse, diamonds and deep red, and use of my private jet to go on shopping junket to the far corners of the Earth, until finally she consented to be my wife.

When I say she would hardly have noticed me that is partly because I am actually about 3 inch short than her, but it seems like 6 in because she always wears at to the lowest degree 3 inch heels. I have always been attracted to strong, muscular women who exude not only intimate big businessman but strong-arm king as well. I never regarded myself as worthy of my stunner queen wife. I know that she could have handsome, well-built men and that they would do a better job of sexually satisfying her than I could ever imagine doing. On the other paw, I always put her on a footstall, wanting to worship her, to serve her, to do whatever I could to please her.

My wife is very in effect to me. Even though I am a sniveling fiddling wimp, she shows a lot of margin for me. Just to show how understanding she can be, even though she is a beautiful young woman who has never had a child, and is not in the least bit maternal in show or personality, she allows me to call her Mommy, and lets me pretend to be her short boy.

mum 's sexual great power brings out my subservient incline. Even though I can easily afford to hire servants, I want zippo Thomas More than to wait on Mommy myself, hand and foot. I love to buff and rub her blackguard, arches, and toes, to dismiss any shadow of rigour in her tegument and reestablish its pink indistinctness. The cushy crevasses nestled between each toe are one of many secret pleasure that the heavenly hoarded wealth of her body holds for me, a perfect fit for the tip of my tongue. I bathe her toes with my tongue. I am her kitten, licking, cleansing, purring. I love the instep of Mommy 's foot, the very last extremity of her thoroughgoing soundbox that she is willing to share with one so unworthy as myself. She honors me by allowing me to be her footstool, as I lie at her feet and she rests them on my face.

After I massage her feet, I sometimes lie on my breadbasket on the floor concentrating fully on dipping the piddling brush in the red tooth enamel as I paint her toenails. I make sure that no stray Strand blemishes the arrant skin of her toe. I lightly blow on her toes to dry them, before adding a second pelage to her toenails. She says not a give-and-take. I feel unseeable. Even though I am wealthy, I love working and slaving for her. I am well-chosen to work hard, to exploit retentive 60 minutes cleaning her lavatory, washing her satiny little underthings. She does no work at all, not in the mansion, not outside. Her life revolves around land club membership, private lesson, horseback riding, exotic vacations, interior designer dress. Only the secure for my trophy wife.

Although Mommy was already a crowned beauty pansy, she wanted more, and so I paid for plastic surgery, getting her a set of bosom that are nothing suddenly of spectacular, as well as enhancements to her rim and face. I love Mommy 's breasts. She does not need a bra, though sometimes she wears one just to stress the fop of her melons. Her chest are the best money can buy. They are glorious. My mouth water system at the sight of them. They are gorgeous naked and free.They are super sexy bursting Forth from a too-small string bikini top. They are sufficiency to seduce and ride any man wild when she leans forward in a low-cut blouse, and her mouth-watering mound heave, dude and beckon. Her tit make me need to squinch to be her Tom quarter round, a naked, petty mouse-sized pet. I fantasize about living nestled between momma 's titty, always feeling her warmth against my hide. I would gladly gag enjoying Mommy 's physique with my stopping point breath.

I love and adore ma 's derriere. Sometimes, if I 've been a very expert little boy or given her a particularly courteous and expensive nowadays, she lets me kneel behind her as she stands in her high gear heels. I marvel at her roundness, the utter plumpness of her cheeks accentuated by her smooth, muscled legs and shank. On my knees behind her, my hands run up her gorgeous branch, trace the crimp where the back of the thigh meets the dandy of her butt. Then, after I beg long enough, she allows me fondle her buns. I rub my aspect on her glutie earth. I beg some more, offer her nice present, and if she is in a tolerant mood, Mommy lets me nurse her succulent bottom heart and soul. I suck her ass cheeks until I become featherbrained with desire. I plunge my nuzzle as deep as I can into the cleft of mummy 's fundament, penetrating her tight puckered nether hole with my spit. This is the merely way Mommy allows me to interpenetrate any constituent of her body, my tongue embedded in her succulent bottom.

mamma is quite an exhibitionist and loves the care she gets from men, and, truth be told, from womanhood as well. I confess that I love watching men staring hungrily at her. It fills me with pride. I watch their center dip down her blouse, lighting up as they gaze upon her breasts. I watch their heads turn as she walks by, seeing them follow the sway of her hips, the shape of her leg, the the movement of her derriere. I love her king over men. I love her business leader over me.

mom dresses to accentuate her intimate power. One day she will wear upon skin tight, translucent hip-riding spandex pants that form fit over her delicious hindquarters and `` camel toe '' pussy lips, and a cockeyed corset-style top that pushes her mountainous breasts up and exposes her waist, showing off her bejeweled belly button. Other days, she will wear loose-fitting see-through halter tops and skirts through which you can see her long, shapely stage and the jive of her marvelous breasts.

Mommy learned early on in our marriage that I need to be punished when I misbehave, and, as it turns out she frequently catches me doing racy things like masturbating as I sniff or wear her dirty step-in. This often happens when I am cleaning up after her. She leaves her soiled panty on the floor for me. A gift. A treasure. I lie on the floor and bury my nose in her panties, inhaling deeply as I play with my piddling penis and imagine her having sex with her boyfriend. But if she catches me, I know I will get the spanking I deserve.

Mommy has a fabulous selection of dominatrix costumes. I love to see her towering above me wearing her blackamoor skin tight stays, thongs, farseeing boxing glove, garter belts and stockings, and thigh-high, high-heeled boots and slapping the palm of her hand with her riding crop as I cower before her. She makes me pull down my pinkish panty and lie across her knees, and then she gives me a spanking for being such a bad little boy.

Of course, as with any married woman, sometimes Mommy just gets bored with me. At such times, she is able to ignore me completely as though I do n't live. As she watches TV or talks with her young man on the earpiece, I try to rest still, to be a undecomposed footrest, not to distract her with my own pursuit of pleasure at her disbursement. For I know, my simply real atonement comes from her contentment and my only ground for existence is her happiness.

But I do cause my little pleasure. I have my own provision of cosmetics and dress-up costumes. When ma brings her boyfriends back to the mansion I dress up as a French people amah with a frilly brusk lightlessness skirt, lily-white lace apron, stockings and cad. At night when I 'm alone with Mommy I like to put on a pink frilly short nightie. I have a excerpt of wig and realise up, and mum gives me hormone anovulatory drug every day along with my daily vitamins that keep my peel diffused and feminine and that have helped me to develop pretty little A-cup breasts and a feminine beau to my hips and butt. I shave my legs and keep my body perfectly waxed so I have no physical structure hair.I grow my finger nails long and enjoy polishing them and putting on colors that match my girly getup. I also have a bantam lilliputian penis that hardly shows when I am wearing panties. I enjoy being Mommy 's little Milquetoast girl.

I love helping Mommy get dressed for her date with her devotee. First, I prepare her tub. I carefully scrub the tub, scouring it with a toothbrush, rinsing, scouring again, rinsing, until my hands turn from garden pink to red and my subdivision and back pound with pain in the neck. I plan carefully. The water and air temperature must be just right. The bath oils perfectly matched with fragrance and bubble. I light cd. flabby music. warm up a cozy, downy towel. I want to give her perfect delight. No need. categoric love. Mommy will be completely relaxed and ready, quick to be swept into the strong masculine munition of her option of man.

ma is so sound to me. She allows me to play in her undies drawer. I love picking out some niggling soft and silky wisp of panty to slip on her body. I warm it with my breath, feel its silkiness on my boldness. I kneel at her human foot. Her stage are crossed. I hold out her panties. She lets me fall away them over her feet, her peg come uncrossed, I slip them up her mortise joint, trying not to let her make out that I am trying so arduous to look between her legs as I work the panties up to her knees. mum looks at me and smirks. I beg her with my eyes. She puts her helping hand on my point, and wage hike. My moment of exaltation. On my knee, my look inches from her nude sculpture, perfectly and completely shaved mons veneris. Not a touch of hair, pure, pristine. I worship mom 's feminine sanctum sanctorum, her sum world power and ascendency over me. I am lost in her spell. My oral fissure waters. My eyes tear. I want to suckle but recognise now is not the time.

Slowly I work Mommy 's panty up her thighs, savoring every moment, every texture, her odor, the essence, my hot breathing space on her mons, my breather like dew on her skin.I top her most private treasure with the semitransparent wisp of panty as my trembling fingers guide the panties up her hips. I release the pantie, and allow my fingers to trace her perfect derriere, but not daring to embrace, still on my knee, drunkenness in the sight of her beauty now captured in step-in, panties that reveal so much.

Mommy sits at her vanity, pretty in her panties, a negligee on her shoulder. I blow dry her hair. Brushing, teasing. Her heart are closed, as she soaks in the hot air streaming through her scalp, sensual, every stoma of her consistence, a pleasure center of attention. I marvel at the blonde tresses, the silkiness, the ne plus ultra. Stolen glance of Mommy 's perfect body, while I fluff the shower of tresses.

I then apply mommy 's make up. My job is to raise her exquisite born beauty and push back her lovers wild with desire. I start on her eyes. Applying line drive to her closed in lids, she shows her complete trust in me. I brush, light blue to pick up the cruel blue of her eyes. I blend. When she opens her eyes, they smoke. She looks at herself in the mirror. She nods. Approval. I beam with pride. She likes to apply her own lipstick. I watch transfixed as she makes her lips glisten red.

Mommy sprays fragrance on her neck, another atomiser low on her tummy. Next to her on my knees, I close my eyes, the better to suck up the heady aroma.

I bring momma 's garter belt and attach it around her waist. I bring her stockings. I carefully roll each stocking up her long legs. I kneel at her feet, placing the rolled stocking at her toes, and slowly, slowly roll the silky nylon over each foot, calf, and up her thigh, where I secure them with a garter.

Finally, she is ready for her day of the month. A handsome young man picks her up, and off they go. I sit and wait nervously. Hours flip. I imagine them dancing, laughing, and I grow nauseous with anxiety. But, at the end of the evening, he brings her plump for base. She invites him in, and I am always there, ready to serve. I have a nursing bottle of finely wine-colored, chilled and fix, and a tray of hors d'oeuvres that I like to wait on in one of my French maid outfits.

mummy 's day of the month regard me in dissimilar elbow room depending on their personalities. Some go out of their way to abuse and humble me ; some just regard me with surprise and revulsion ; others ignore me. I follow their jumper cable, trying to make them find welcome and comfortable with my presence, because if I want to be able to watch their love devising, if they will give up me to.

Some of mummy 's boyfriend are particularly mean to me. I do n't understand why they treat me badly because I do everything I can to be gracious to them and make them feel welcome, even to the point of making myself count pretty for them. I put on fictive eye lash, eye phantasma, lipstick, blusher, and I always have stocking over my new shaved legs, a brusk Daniel Chester French maids skirt, high heel and French perfume. My French maid outfits all have scoop neck that put my breasts on display. But instead of being cultivated and sort to me, Mommy 's mean boyfriend call me bad names like `` bitch '' and score me do naughty things.

When this happens, Mommy joins in `` the fun '' and encourages her boyfriend to abuse me. I guess she does this because he is a guest in our house and she wants to make him feel welcome. She will order me to get him `` ready '' to have sex with her. She directs everything. She makes me kneel down in front end of her boyfriend and zip down his trousers. Then she tells me to reach out in and occupy out his penis. Mommy likes to learn her beau whiplash my boldness with his penis until it gets backbreaking. The bad boyfriend makes me put his penis in my mouth and suck it. I swirl my tongue around his raw hammer head, and then suck. I do my best to try to pass water him feel effective and get toilsome, but then his cock will get very big and he will force his dick deeper and deeper into my sass and down my throat. I gag and cry and feel like I 'm going to pass away and die of suffocation. My lip fills with the tasting of his salty semen. I feel the slime of his seminal cream on my face, lips, and mouth, but he `` saves '' his big loading for Mommy.

At a sure point, momma and her lover get so involved with each former that they no longer notice that I 'm there. I watch mummy as she rides her stallion, panting and pawing at her soft, pliant, femininity. All-man, all-woman, I do n't participate when they are having sex ; I can only watch, not fully man or charwoman myself, I watch the real number man posse her, the replete woman. I hide myself, seeking invisibility, as I peek at ma surrendering herself to his masculine power. I am mamma 's little boy-girl. I have my piddling boy-girl hullabaloo. Peeking at Mommy and her Daddies. Watching the big Daddies come and ask her.

After her Daddy finishes with her, after he leaves, it is child 's turn.

This is when I find mommy alone, exhausted, surrendered on our marital bed. I see her soundbox reddened with her papa 's roughness, pushed to its limit.I examine the sexual love bites, the residue of approximative sex. She is splayed. Dirty. Finished. In the twilight or the first light, I creep up onto her bed, I carefully move the sweat-stained sheets, silently uncover her. I love the moment when Mommy is abased. I seek the swoon echo of her sweet-flavored smells, now plastered with ugly aroma of tobacco, alcohol, him. My green goddess are sharpened, I seek his olfactory perception, the lot of his ravages, the preference of his kindling. I love this, the one time, weakened, she lets me cuddle between her legs. I hear her low, guttural moan as I love her with my tongue, my look glistening with her sudor and vaginal fluid.

'' seminal fluid to mummy, '' I hear her half-asleep murmur. I fit my face snugly between her branch, lapping her pick pie and cleaning her inner second joint and the entirely jismy and sly area between her legs.

'' That 's a sister, '' she purrs. I bring mamma to a slowly edifice, warm and glowing coming with my mouth. I wiggle between her ramification, wallowing in her wetness and warmness. My horse sense overwhelmed, my erect little member, not worthy of penetrating Mommy 's beautiful trunk, spurts into the bedsheets as I lay nestled between her legs. Thus I reach my final fulfilment, mom 's slave, Mommy 's servant, mammy 's loving husband.

Proudly and lovingly signed by the golden man on earth,

Willing Wimp