He returned to the fridge giving me another chance to admire his ass and lifted out a half full bottle of wine, “Shall we be really decadent?” he asked. I nodded and he grabbed a couple of tumblers and filled them up before he sat down at the table.I was about to join him when the little devil on my shoulder intervened. I placed my hands on the counter and lifted myself up to sit there fully aware of my lack of underwear and that from Paul’s vantage, if he so desired, he’d be able to see beneath the T-shirt I was wearing along my ebony thighs. I glanced down as I picked up the hot toastie and saw the hem of the T-shirt only just covering my trimmed bush from my own perspective. He glanced at me as he sipped the white wine and I smiled back as I read a curious look upon his features.I dropped my eyes and began eating my food; careful of the hot melted cheese within and totally aware of my aching quim that was partially visible to the gay man sitting less than six feet from me. I knew. . those are mine".She didn't say another word and neither did I. We stared at each otherfor what felt like eternity then she smiled the tiniest of smiles andwalked away.Not knowing what to do, I did the only thing I could think of at thatmoment - I kept cleaning.---I've had a shoe fetish for as long as I can remember, with high heelsbeing an extreme weakness. The wife knows of my fetish and hasaccommodated me as much as she can by wearing heels for her job and fornights on the town. What she didn't know was that I longed to wear themmyself. She also didn't know that I secretly had a pair of my own andthat I wore them when she was traveling.---I finished cleaning the bathroom without hearing another word from mywife. When I came out I found her in the kitchen preparing dinner."About the shoes..." No need to say anything. Let's put it aside for now and focus ondinner. Ok?" Ok"---The wife is an excellent cook so dinner was a welcome diversion. Wemanaged to keep the conversation rolling.
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