Footsie Dating
Live Feet Cam
Video on Demand
The Fetish Expo
Nyllady's Page
About this site
Footsie Videos
Other Videos
Footsie Pictures
Blog Footsie on the webFootsie on the web
Nyllover's contacts

Storie \ The Balance Of Power

  Kieren Brown | Feet Under The Table -  - English story | 24.02.2007

My name is Monica St Croix, I frequently cheat on my husband and it’s not a secret; he’s fully aware of what I do just powerless to stop me. See I know what you’re thinking right now as you read this. You think I’m a bitch slut whore amalgamation that deserves no happiness in life and should be stricken from society. But; having said that there’s also a damn good chance that many of you reading this; man and woman alike are actually somewhat aroused and intrigued by this and probably even a little jealous of my sexual freedom.
 Truth be told I could care less what you think of me; I’m not writing this to gain anyone’s approval simply because I don’t need it. I’m here to tell you my story.  
Thing is; I wasn’t always this brazen; I used to be the perfect timid little housewife who knew her rightful and submissive role in the marriage and didn’t ever answer back. Despite my 1st class degree in landscape architecture, I actually used to stay at home and watch daytime soaps while my husband went out and earned the money. I would darn his socks, have dinner ready promptly for his half six return from work and meekly accept the £35 per week allowance he gave me on a Sunday morning. I watched myself grow older, fatter and uglier as my dreams of an exciting and passionate life fell by the wayside. I was a 32 year old housewife who read celebrity gossip magazines every day with an aching in her heart caused by the knowledge that she would never ever experience the glamorous lifestyles she was glimpsing. I knew I would be forever condemned to a life of social non-existence and a size 16 dress. 
Sounds pretty bleak doesn’t it? 
It was bleak, extremely bleak. My husband and I played the happy couple when in the presence of onlookers but I was a corpse inside. Our sex life was dead life I’d counted two orgasms at his hands in the previous 5 years, (but maybe that’s not so bad when intimacy only occurs only twice a year?) I couldn’t remember the last time he had done anything thoughtful, told me I was beautiful or even just said he loved me. If all of that wasn’t enough he also had no less than 6 affairs in the ten years before I finally grew a backbone. So little respect did he have for me that he didn’t even bother to try to cover his tracks and I found out about every last swimsuit model, wannabe actress, and air hostess that was willing to show my husband the kind of wild time I couldn’t. Every time I found out and every time I did he managed to twist things to imply that it was actually my fault that he strayed, perhaps I didn’t listen to him enough, take much of an interest in his business or fulfil any of his kinky fantasies, the particular excuse changed depending on his mood. In my teary, red eyed and emotional stupor I always accepted responsibility and pledged to do whatever it took to make the man in my life happy. 
One day he and I were at a cool and trendy wine bar entertaining American businesspeople he was in negotiations with in the hopes of securing a distribution deal for his software company Mermex. Being rather frumpy and somewhat lacking in vibrant sassy confidence I was unsurprisingly disregarded by all present (my husband included) in favour of the far younger and prettier women in our group. Halfway through the night I found myself sitting alone at the bar nursing a half empty glass of Baileys and in honesty; fighting back the tears as I searched my mind frantically for an answer as to just where I’d gone wrong for my life to be this horrible.  
It was in that moment that I saw a sight that would forever change my existence. There was a woman dancing on the dancefloor who was unlike anything I’d ever before seen; five foot 7 inches tall in seductive grey 3 inch Jimmy Choo pumps, semi opaque striped stockings, and a tight light grey dress that accentuated her curvaceous A-list figure and exposed a tantalising amount of her ample cleavage. She had beautiful caramel coloured Mediterranean skin, shoulder length jet black hair and piercing green eyes that simply oozed sensuality. Everyone watched her as she danced rhythmically in perfect knowledge of the attention she was commanding yet somehow in complete comfort with it. A young, attractive, Armani suit wearing businessman approached her from behind and asked to dance. I watched in wonder as she grabbed him and began to grind her beautiful peach shaped ass against his crotch to the rnb music. My eyes widened as I saw the effect she was having on him. He was putty in her hands, eyes closed with pleasure, his arms holding her tightly against him as she tilted her head back and smiled seductively.
I felt myself begin to moisten as I imagined the seductive power she was having over his cock, teasing it to erection with her perfect body and rubbing its granite like hardness against his own thigh with her gorgeous butt.
I imagined how stiff he must have felt to her between the thin fabric of his trousers and the more slender fabric of her satin dress. My breathing began to heighten and beads of sweat ran down my chest as I imagined how horny they both were.  Could she make him cum if she wanted? Was he going to cum right there on the dance floor? Was she deliberately keeping him in a state of suspended lust? How exactly would that feel, for him and for her? Just how much physical pleasure was her own deep sexual power bringing her?
There I was, a boring and dingy little housewife, dressed head to toe in lacklustre black, wearing baggy trousers and comfortable shoes being inadvertently schooled in the art of being a confident sexual siren by the goddess on the dance floor. 
In all my life I had never been that kind of woman, the kind of woman who was sexy, and desired by all. The kind of woman who knew exactly what she wanted and went for it with complete confidence in her abilities. The kind of woman who could make an attractive and successful man who clearly was no stranger to the opposite sex weak with lust just by dancing with him. 
At that moment in that bar with that cunt of a husband only 3 feet away doing his best to charm the thong off that  blonde haired 21 year old glamour model; that’s exactly who I decided to become. 
I had to change; it was a must, not a should. 
Over the next year I spent at least one hour a day training rabidly in the gym. I became completely focussed on the goal of shedding the chrysalis of my middle aged looking, pear shaped, stretch mark and love handled figure and emerging with the butterfly of physical perfection.
I exercised in secret while my husband was at work, using his credit cards to pay personal trainers and gym memberships. The change was slow at first and to be honest I often thought about giving up in the early days but I kept at it and sure enough; after a couple months of perseverance my body began to noticeably change. My saggy and unshapely thighs were becoming toned and sexy as my breasts now taut and firm, I discovered curves I had never before known as well as a confidence that I used to think was reserved for people who were my superior. It was at this point that my husband began to notice the change in me. 
Did he encourage me to continue? Hell no. Did he say he was proud of my progress? Not even once. What he did do is put me down at every single conceivable opportunity.
He began to berate me and undermine my progress, telling me that I was nothing special and was wasting my time trying to be anything else. He said that I didn’t have the mental discipline to work out, that I didn’t deserve to be sexy. He also said that I’d eventually lose heart and go back to the frumpy submissive figure we both knew all too well.
To say it intimidated him is probably the greatest understatement a person can ever utter. 
I kept on regardless, somehow spurned on by his words and over the next 6 months my intense cardio workouts, high protein low carb diet and regular beauty treatments had completely realised my dreams. Men were now looking at me with both intense attraction and intimidation when eye contact was made and I could sense women were now beginning to feel very threatened by my sexy, curvaceous and toned figure. To my amazement; by the end of the year my life had completely changed and I was a totally different person both mentally as well as physically. A year of high intensity workouts had given me a mental discipline and self confidence in my abilities that I’d never possessed before, I felt able to take on the world! 
By that point the strains that were already in place on my marriage were now starting to reach breaking point. It was obvious how much more attracted to me my husband was but what was even clearer was that he just wasn’t man enough to handle it.  
Here’s a prime example, on one of our admittedly rare moments of intimacy I quite easily overpowered him in the middle of a light hearted play fight. The look of complete fear and emasculation in his eyes as he felt himself pinned down against the beige carpet by my new hard and toned sexy figure spoke volumes. The growth in his crotch I felt swelling against my knee spoke more than words ever could. The balance of power was beginning to shift in our relationship and he wasn’t able to handle it, no scratch that, he hated it. What he also hated was the knowledge that he had never been more attracted to me in all the time he’d known me than he was in that moment. His pride told him this was wrong, that he shouldn’t lose power to me, that he had to “be the man” at all costs but his body urged him to surrender to me, to give in to my feminine power.
These two conflicting armies waged a civil war throughout his mind and body that left him in a completely deserved state of emotional turmoil.
Our arguments grew in ferocity, what little intimacy we did have before all but vapourized and I began to realise just how small of a man he really was. He couldn’t handle me physically or emotionally and quite simply wasn’t good enough for me. I knew I could, should and deserved to do better and found myself beginning to fantasize about many of the men I saw on the street. Where they “real men”? Would they be able handle a strong, passionate woman like myself and lead me on a journey of unrivalled passion that would forever blow out the cobwebs of my failed, dull and lifeless marriage? 
One day I was walking home from the bus stop after a late night shopping spree at Harrods when I noticed a large fat ginger haired man in a dirty and oil stained lime green tracksuit following me close behind. Fear began to crawl deep within my gut as he matched my route perfectly for ten whole minutes and followed me from the relatively bright main roads to the more desolate and dimly lit housing estates. I sped up my pace to avoid him, he followed suit and my brisk walking soon tuned into a panicked run.
“Come here ya fucking slut! Lemme talk to ya!”
He screamed with a raspy growl that sent shivers throughout my body. I dropped my shopping bags and expensive high heels and ran in my nylons to evade him but I wasn’t nearly fast enough. He grabbed me in a dark alley and pinned me down against the course, rocky ground. With tears in my eyes I kicked and screamed with all my strength but couldn’t break free. I could smell the stale beer and cigarettes on his breath as he grunted into my face and felt the wet dripping sweat on his fingers as he grabbed my breasts with his meaty fingers. The rough gravel on the ground began to lacerate my stockings and cut the skin on my hands. It was hell. I closed my eyes and prayed a silent prayer for Jesus, Allah and Buddah to kill me right there so I wouldn’t have to endure whatever this monster was going to do! That was when I felt and heard a sharp and sickening thud. 
I opened my eyes and my would be rapist was now laying next to me unconscious with his own phlegm streaming down his chinless chin. I saw standing above me a tall, handsome and well built man dressed in a black Versace business suit, looking down on me with a concerned expression, I recognised him from the gym, he would often work out with scores of very beautiful women.
“Are you ok miss??”
I continued to shiver and stare into space; he took his jacket off his own back and placed it around my shoulders.
“Miss? Are you ok? Can you hear me?”
I looked up and meekly nodded.
“You’re gonna be fine now miss, ok? He’s out cold, I’m just gonna call the police, then I’ll wait with you until they arrive.”
“Excuse me?”
“No police, please I haven’t got the strength all that now, just take me home.”
“Will do.”
The well dressed man helped me to my feet, kicked my would be rapist hard against the skull twice and draped his strong arm around my shoulders. I could feel his powerful heartbeat reverberate against my ear as I rested my head on his chest. 
I called my husband as we walked home only to find that he was less than interested in my personal wellbeing than he was interested in suggesting that I was somehow to blame for this happening! He actually said to me that this is what happens when you become so undeservedly fixated on your looks!
Before he could even finish his sentence I switched my phone off and continued my walk absolutely irate with anger and distraught with grief. It wasn’t the fact that my husband cared so little for my wellbeing that got to me, no I’d made my peace and was long ever that. It was because in that single moment I realised just how I felt about him; I didn’t love him, in fact I hadn’t loved him for years, I hated him. I hated his guts with a passion that would make Adolf Hitler look like a bleeding heart liberal. All those years I spent breaking my back to be a good wife to him were completely wasted! And I wanted revenge, no I craved it, I demanded it! Something had to be done to pay back that heartless fuck of a man, to let him know a glimpse of the kind of pain I had felt over the past 10 years, to give him but the smallest insight into the emotional turmoil I’d been put through at his hands.
Things between us were going to change, it was a must, not a should!
 As I looked into the strong, chocolate toned jawline of the man who had saved me a devious plan came to mind.
 “Your husband sounds like a complete dick.”
“He is.”
“He doesn’t seem to respect or care much for you.”
“I guess not.”
“So why the hell are you still with him?”
“I looked into the deep brown eyes of this man as they bored into my own with a knowing smile.
“I don’t know.”
I held his hand tightly as we walked down the street.
 When we finally got to my front door the well dressed and muscular ebony toned man looked me in the eyes and smirked with a gaze that oozed confidence and sincerity.
 “I guess this is where we part company.”
“It doesn’t have to be.”
“You’re home and safe now, there’s nothing more to worry about.”
I looked up into the steely resolve of his deep, dark, chocolate eyes and felt myself begin to melt. As if he sensed this he asked me.
“When does your husband get back?”
“In about an hour.”
“You sure you want me to come in?”
“Yeah, but don’t worry, I’m sure you can take him.”
There was something powerful and captivating about this man that made my pulse quicken and my nipples grow erect. I could feel the ice cold wind of the winter night sky blowing against my neck but I felt the heat of a thousand raging suns burning beneath my skin. He took my keys from my hand, unlocked then opened my front door. As I walked past him he placed his smooth chocolate hand on the small of my back and guided me inside.
 It was electrifying. 
Inside it all exploded. He pushed me against the wall and held my arms over my head with his left hand as he licked my neck with his tongue and ran his right hand over my left thigh. I wrapped my leg around his waist and heard him grunt as I dug the heel of my Manolo pump into his firm calf muscle.  I could feel his swelling, bulbous dick trapped against the inside of my thigh, but I wanted to feel it in my hands, I wanted to taste it in my mouth, I wanted to feel the thick, twitching, veiny mass of his shaft stretch my pussy and fuck me like the slut I was.
He continued to ravish me against the wall before lifting me up and carrying me to the bottom of the stairs. He slipped off my pumps and ran his tongue from the sole of my nylon foot along my quivering leg, underneath my skirt and made me shudder as he teased the tip of my clit through my thong. Then he grabbed my left foot and ripped the socking around it and worshipped it with his tongue. I took my now bare left foot and pressed it against his face as I grinded his thick 10 inch member through his trousers with my nyloned right.
I stood up, took off my jacket and pulled him into the living room. He threw me down on the couch, and began to slowly remove his clothes in front me me. The suspense was all too much for me; I leapt to my feet and ripped his clothes off him, trousers, shoes, socks, shirt, tie, and jacket, everything. I felt him pressed next to me. His ripped bare physique and huge cock stretching his tight red boxer shorts. I pulled him down onto the couch and kissed him passionately. I slipped my hands under his silk boxers, felt his butt and dug my nails into the flesh. As our two bodies writhed against each other before I was in heaven. This chocolate god was bringing me to levels of ecstasy I’d never known before! Never in all the time I’d spent with my husband had he ever made me so horny. This man pulled down my skirt and ripped off my blouse and bra, he licked and bit every region on my bare sweaty body for what felt like blissful eternity, my neck, my shoulders my ear lobes, my toes, my arches, my knees, my inner thighs, my butt, my lips, my breasts. I was delirious with pleasure. I began to moan and rub my fingers in small circles over my aching nipples.
“Not yet!” He grunted as he pulled my hands back above my head and resumed his delightful sexual torture. I was going crazy! I wanted him to suck on my nipples, to lick them; hell just to even touch them but this guy seemed to take pleasure in not giving me what he knew I wanted! “How long can he keep this up?! “ I screamed to myself. “When is he going to fuck me?! Why won’t he fuck me!?”
Yet again as if he read my mind this black god took his thick tool and began to rub it against my damp pussy through my thong panties. From the tip of my clit down past my labia to the space between my pussy and ass, the intense, throbbing energy I felt building within me was absolutely incredible! When I said that my husband would be back in an hour I lied through my teeth, half an hour would have been closer to the truth and that was at least 25 minutes ago! I knew he’d be walking through the living room door at any moment now and this fear of being caught in the act heightened the emotion of the event to unbearable levels. I felt my body relax from head to toe in sheer pleasure as shockwaves of arousal made my legs shudder! I started to moan incoherently as I felt a raging orgasm building within me! With a skill and grace that defied his muscular physique this man used one hand to rub my swollen nipples while he teased every inch of my soaking pussy with his stiff cock!
I panted breathlessly as I felt my stimulation reach unbearable heights.
“You like this don’t you?!”
“You’re gonna cum for me aren’t you?!”
“Do it then, come right now, come for me baby, come for me!”
And that was all it took. The surge that had been growing inside me began to burst in the form of the most powerful orgasm any woman anywhere has EVER experienced! I felt like a drop of liquid spreading out at light speed in all directions for eternity, my body convulsed and spasmed, my toes curled and my fingers gripped the couch with a power I didn’t think was possible for a woman to possess as I experienced what was also the longest orgasm in human history.
That was when I looked to the right and saw the five foot five inch, podgy and semi bloated figure of my husband standing teary eyed at the doorway armed with his favourite metal baseball bat.
“You bitch! You fucking bitch!”
“Not so nice when the boot’s on the other foot now is it?”
“How could you fucking do this to me?! I’m your fucking husband you whore!!
“Well, being married never stopped you from committing any of your little sexual trysts did it?”
“I’ll kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!”
And that’s exactly what he tried to do as he ran at us both screaming like a landmine victim. The man who had made me cum like a goddess, still naked, still fully erect, yet still sharp as a whip, sprung to his feet, took the baseball bat off my husband and bashed him in the head with it, knocking him out cold.
 It was the second time he would save me that day.
 My husband woke up 15 minutes later to find himself firmly strapped into a chair with duct tape, my panties in his mouth and more duct tape covering his lips as me in semi opaque red bra and thong panties and my still naked new partner in crime looked down on him with sly grins.
“Hello baby”
I cooed seductively looking him straight in the eye as I ran my long fingernails over the well defined six pac of my new lover and played with my light autumn brown, shoulder length hair.
 “What do you think of this bra and panties I’m wearing baby? Do you find them sexy?”
I swayed in front of him, grinding my panty clad ass and pussy against his face before sliding my firm breasts over his crotch. He immediately stiffened to my touch as he shot daggers at me with his eyes and screamed himself horse through my impromptu mouth gag and strained to free himself.
 “You act as though you don’t enjoy this but yout little friend down there betrays your actions darling, he seems to enjoying this very much. Let’s have a look and see just how much.”
 I undid my husband’s fly, slipped my long, slender fingers into his boxers, found his squirming 4 inch penis and pulled it out into the open before going back and stroking the 10 inch staff of my ebony co-conspirator while looking at him with a smirk. 
“Hmm, you seem to be somewhat lacking in the trouser department darling, see this here? This is the cock of a real man, hell this is a man that gave me the strongest orgasm I’ve ever experienced without even needing to fuck me. When was the last time you even made me cum darling?”
 I walked back to my trapped husband and sat down right on top of his stiff cock as he continued to shout and scream through his gag.
“See that sting what you’re feeling in your heart right now my love?”
I said while looking the godlike man in the eye as I grinded my thong panty ass over my husband’s trapped erection. Moans of confused pleasure were now coming from his gagged mouth.
 “That’s pride fucking with you my dear and pride will only bring you pain, you need to look past pride and focus purely on enjoying this experience.”
I stood up, spun around, pulled my panties to one side and sat back down on my husband’s lap taking his small cock as deep inside me as it would go looking him straight in the eye as I gripped it tightly with my strong vaginal muscles. He grunted loudly and closed his eyes with delirious pleasure. I slapped him hard in the face and held the back of his head with my hands as I whispered gently in his ear.
“Because this right here, is as close as you are ever going to get to fucking me ever again. Can you taste my panties in your mouth darling, I’m afraid that’s all your worth to me now.”
 With that, I eased myself off his bloated pole, stood back up much to his muffled, and frustrated chagrin and sauntered across to the naked stallion stood smiling in the middle of our living room.
 “Darling this is erm, I’m sorry I don’t actually know your name.”
“This is DeShawn, i.e. the man who saved me from the rapist you didn’t seem to give a shit about and the man who also has given me more pleasure in half an hour than your limp dick has managed to provide me in over 10 years. No doubt you saw how passionate my orgasm just was.”
My husband remained silent; he’d given up screaming, protesting and attempting to break free and seemed to be coming to terms with his current predicament.
Things were going according to plan.
 “Well obviously it’d be in poor taste to allow him give me so much pure pleasure without returning the favour in some way and I know you wouldn’t want to think you were married to a selfish bitch so with that general sense of decency in mind I have a special treat for you both. I’m going to pleasure DeShawn to orgasm while you sit and watch my dear. DeShawn could you sit down on the floor with your back against the chair please?”
 DeShawn did just that and I laid down on my stomach on the carpet with my feet in his crotch looking my restrained husband square in the eye as I slowly massaged his swollen balls with my soft sexy toes. Both my husband and DeShawn began to moan at the touch of my exquisite feet and this feeling of power began to really excite me. I slid to toes of my left foot up and down along the inside of DeShawn’s left thigh as my right foot batted his swollen member about his lap from left to right. My poor husband was now delirious with lust as his tiny member strained outwards desperately seeking the physical contact it would never receive. His eyes were now fixed past me onto my sexy size 6 feet as I used them to bring pleasure to DeShawn’s massive rod. Deshawn’s breathing began to quicken and his moans became deeper and huskier as I placed both feet at the base of his shaft and pressed my toes into flesh underneath before using my soles to squeeze his balls. My husband just sat there moaning, quivering, eyes fixed on the action taking place only two feet away with his hard cock reaching for the sky.
I could sense that DeShawn was now close to bursting point so I put both soles on either side of his shaft and proceeded to fuck his dick with them furiously, even more spurned and turned on by the power this situation was giving me!
“Oh God yeah baby, fuck me, fuck me with your feet!”
“Are you gonna shoot for me baby?”
“yeah baby, I’m gonna shoot for you!”
“Tell me when you’re gonna cum, tell me!”
As DeShawn’s groans intensified I began to continuously kick down on his entire crotch from his thighs to his swollen balls to the base of his shaft right up to the tip with my cum inducing  toes.
“Oh God I’m cumin, I’m fucking cuming!”
And cum he did, as I looked into the delirious, pleasure ridden eyes of my husband I felt wave after wave of DeShawn’s hot, sticky semen bathe my arches, calf and ass in deep, sexual tribute. The satisfaction I felt was so immense, not only had I actually just made a man cum using only my feet but I’d done it right in front of my husband! It was the perfect revenge for the many years of neglect I’d suffered! The satisfaction I felt was tripled when I looked down on my husband’s crotch and saw his now flaccid penis swimming in a pool of its own love seed! The horny little bastard had actually ejaculated just from watching me pleasure another man! This little revelation was going to make the rest of our relationship very interesting indeed.
With a surge of unbridled confidence coursing through my hot, sweaty body I crawled across to my husband, sat down on a chair next to him, pulled off the duct tape and panties from his mouth and held my cum drenched foot in front of his face.
“Lick it off.”
“Please Monica, I love you, I love you so much baby please don’t leave me we can sort this out!”
“Lick it off!” I hissed as I stared into his quivering eyes with a steely resolve. He complied swiftly and promptly, licking every inch of my foot from my heel to my arch all the way up to my toes. We looked each other in the eyes as he did this and an unspoken agreement took place, it was clear as day, written all over his eyes as he looked at me; I had beaten him. In this battle of the sexes I had emerged victorious and had firmly re-established just who was the dominant one in our relationship. It didn’t even need to be said, he would never, ever disrespect me, cheat on me, disregard me or even want to leave me after this. Just as my sexual encounter with DeShawn was the most stimulating of my life, watching me make another man orgasm while strapped helplessly to a chair was more orgasmic to him than I imagine he’d care to admit in polite company.
 I then proceeded to stuff the panties back into his mouth, reapply the duct tape and used his credit cards to take DeShawn out to dinner while he sat there with his dick still out of his trousers laying there in its own cum and reflected on what had just transpired and why.
The balance of power had forever changed in our relationship and that change remains intact to this day. We are no longer man and wife, we are woman and slave, he goes out and earns the money and I spend it, he buys me expensive gifts, writes me poetry and takes me on vacations around the world and I do nothing in return. He licks my pussy to orgasm daily with a passionate zeal that’d make Alqaeda look like the local Boy Scout chapter while I let him fuck me maybe……twice a month.
He’s intensely faithful and devoted completely and only to me and I cheat on him at least twice a week, often filming the event to play back to him when I get home.
Can anyone say Cuckold??
So yeah, call me whatever you want it means absolutely nothing to me. Women, call me a whore if you want but the truth is many of you are trapped just like this whore used to be, boring, shy, average nobodies stuck in dead end, soulless relationships with men who don’t appreciate you and wish secretly that you could become a goddess like me. You secretly yearn for an intensive explosive sexual release that society has forever forced you to bottle up and suppress.
And I know how miserable it makes you.
Men, call me a bitch if you want but the truth is that as much as you don’t like me, you’re captivated by the thought of me. You go to bed maybe twice a week with the same boring woman who uses the same tired sexual techniques on you because she’s too timid to read the kama sutra for fear that you’ll think she’s a slut if she’s too skilled in the bedroom and it sickens you doesn’t it?
Deep down you’d love to meet a woman like me, a woman who could take you to untold levels of passion and make you cum harder than you’ve ever done so in your life but you fear me because you know if you were ever fortunate enough to be in my presence, you just wouldn’t know what to do.
You can all choose to hate or claim to hate me and my lifestyle if you wish and it’s perfectly fine because you can’t deny the simple immutable truth:
You came at least once while reading this story.