The Fantasy List

Hi everyone - As always this is FANTASY. I actually don't really have any disclaimers this time, beyond just saying that all characters are older than 18 years old. Really heavy on the cuckold/humiliation aspects here, so if that's not your thing, you might not be a fan. As always, yes it is fantasy...but let's hope it's filthy fucking hot fantasy. Enjoy.

***

Abria rolled off of Marcus, her naked body slick and glistening with sweat, scarlet hair damp with it as it splayed itself out onto the pillow beneath her. Her ample chest rose and fell as she tried to catch her breath, wide eyes fixed on Marcus's bedroom ceiling.

"Holy...holy FUCK," she said, panting. "That was fucking amazing Marcus. I haven't been fucked like that since..."

She closed her eyes, shook her head, tried to remember.

"I'd say college, but I don't even know if back then..." she sighed. "Men didn't know what the fuck they were doing back then."

He leaned over and kissed her on the lips, the barest of stubble just scraping her cheeks.

"Certainly not since you've been married, huh?" Marcus asked.

Abria broke off the kiss with a snicker. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't laugh."

She paused, and sighed.

"No, certainly not since I've been married," she said. "Good God no. I love Clyde to death but he could never, ever do..."

She gestured to her sweat-slick naked body, the disheveled fourposter bed, the bedside table they'd actually knocked over mid-fuck.

Marcus laughed then pulled her close to him on his side of the bed, planted kisses in the hollow of her collarbone.

"I mean, I guess he wouldn't be a cuckold if he could do this," she said as he nuzzled her. "God this was the best decision of my life. I didn't realize how insanely frustrated I was after five years of not-great sex. This just feels...mmmm..."

He cupped her breasts with his hands, ran his touch all down her tight, toned abdomen and the firm pertness of her ass.

"Didn't you say he wanted to dominate you?" Marcus asked.

Abria rolled over so she was facing him, a teasing smile on her lips. "Oh...yeah. Like early on in us dating."

"He was bad at it?" Marcus asked, toying with a sweaty lock of her hair.

Abria propped herself up on her elbow and thought about the question. "I guess you could say that? He just doesn't have dominant energy. Like he's my best friend. But I can't submit to him sexually, not when it's so much easier for me to dominate him."

"And he likes you dominating him?"

Now Abria did laugh. "I mean yeah, but the thing is, Marcus, is that he's so submissive that like...he'd never say anything even if he didn't like it. I was straight up slipping into my lawyer self when I first started topping him, on the verge of getting him to sign stuff saying he actually wanted it and shit, because he'll go along with everything I do."

It was Marcus's turn to laugh. "I see what you mean about wanting to be challenged a little bit in bed."

"I love him, I do, it's just...a lot of work to be a domme all the time, you know?" Abria said. "I don't get to just lay here, sweaty and exhausted, in the glow of cumming like five or six times or whatever it was."

He patted her cheek. "I counted seven."

"At least."

"Has he gotten over not getting to top you?" Marcus asked.

Abria shrugged. "I think he still kind of wants to....what?"

A slow, sly smile had spread across Marcus's face. "He's probably got all kinds of little fantasies about things he wants to do with you or to you."

Abria thought about it. "Yeah, I think so."

She paused, felt Marcus's cock stiffen against the inside of her thigh.

"God, Marcus, what are you thinking about?" She asked. "How are you ready to go again already?"

"I'll tell you after this," he said, and took her ankles in one hand and lifted her legs as she gave an excited yelp. He smacked her on the ass. "We've got things to take care of first."

****

The text came toward the end of the work day. Clyde got off the conference call with the contractors, disaster narrowly averted. The firm would have its swanky 1950s diner in downtown Galina City on time after all.

He did not get paid enough for this. Most people thought Clyde -- soft-spoken, friendly, much the opposite of assertive -- would be a pushover in negotiations. Most people were wrong. Clyde had built a career on flipping the script in negotiations. He loved squaring off against the alpha males, the guys who made a show of being tough and pounding the table and bending other negotiators to their will. He let them have the first half hour, or 45 minutes, or hour. However long it took. He'd always done more research than them, prepared more thoroughly then them, thought through every possible bargain. And in the end, he got results.

There were perks to being submissive. Even Abria would have to admit that, he thought.

His phone hummed against his thigh and he pulled it from his pocket. It was Marcus.

One of us knows what color Abria's underwear is today because we got to watch her get dressed this morning, the text said. It's not you.

Clyde swallowed hard, heartbeat quickening.

He didn't want to want this, really, but God it was hot. He knew the appropriate reply.

Thank you, he responded. For giving her what she needs.

Much to his surprise, the phone started actually ringing after that. Marcus was calling.

Did he really just want to rub it in that much? He had to hear it in Clyde's voice?

Clyde sighed. He stood, paced to the office door, and locked it. Then he answered, looking out across the Galina City skyline, trying to deny the fact that the chastity cage Abria had put him in was getting tighter.

"What's up, Marcus?" He asked.

"Hope I'm not disturbing your work day too much," his wife's lover said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Clyde glanced at the Galine Space Needle, a new introduction to the skyline his firm had helped build a few years ago.

"No sir," he said. "Just finished up my last meeting of the day."

"Good," Marcus said. "Abria and I have some homework for you."

A block of ice dropped into Clyde's gut. "Homework?"

"Yeah," Marcus said. "Your gorgeous wife told me last night that you kind of think about dominating her sometimes. That there's a lot of things you want to do with her or to her that she never let you."

Clyde's breath was coming ragged and shallow now. He turned to look at the door, but even though the office windows he could see the hallway outside was empty. This wing of the office was usually quiet, even more so this late in the day.

The thought of Abria telling this guy that -- the thought of the two of them probably laughing about it -- hurt. But he couldn't remember the last time he'd been this turned on. There was no room left in the cage his dick was stuck in, and he winced, shifted his weight in a vein attempt to alleviate the pressure.

"Sure..." Clyde said.

"I want you to make a list of all the fantasies you have that you and Abria haven't fulfilled yet," Marcus said. "All the stuff she won't let you do with her."

Clyde swallowed hard.

"And then she and I are going to do them all one-by-one," Marcus said. "And you are going to blog about it."

"Blog about it?"

"About how it feels to know another man is getting to live out all your fantasies with your drop-dead gorgeous wife while your dick is stuck in a cage, yeah," Marcus said.

"You're going to call it the Fantasy List. I think it'll be fun. Don't you?"

Clyde's breath was coming fast now, fast enough that he had to breathe through his mouth. "I..."'

"You're going to do it, regardless," Marcus said. "Your wife came extremely hard after I told her about it. And you wouldn't want to disappoint her now would you?"

Clyde shivered. "No, I...I wouldn't."

"Good," he said. "We have a date set for Saturday night, right? You booked dinner at the Chancellor?"

"Yes," Clyde said. He'd *just* done it, and now he was very glad he had.

"All right," Marcus said. "Send that list with Abria to our date on Saturday night."

Clyde dipped his head in defeat. "I will."

"Perfect," Marcus said. "And indigo, by the way."

Clyde blinked. "What?"

"Indigo," Marcus repeated. "That's what color Abria's underwear is today. You wouldn't know, though, would you?"

*******

He didn't bring it up with Abria until after dinner that night. She had a basketball game on mute and a second glass of wine at her elbow on the table near the couch. She kicked her feet up into his lap, which Clyde knew was his signal to rub them.

"Mmm thanks babe," she said, without looking at him. "Wound up in court all day today, so I was stuck in heels. It just hurts."

She sipped the wine. "How was your day? You get that subcontractor back to the bargaining table for construction on the 1950s diner?"

"Got them to agree to the deal, actually," Clyde said, and tried to focus on rubbing her sole as she toyed with the metal chastity cage beneath his jeans with the toes of her other foot.

She winked at him. "Proud of you, babe."

She set the wine on the table and laid her head back on the couch's arm rest. "I work with so many goddamn attorneys who can't negotiate to save their lives. You've got talent."

She dropped her foot a little lower, gently toyed with his balls with her toes. This was Abria's game, a source of endless amusement for her: making her cuckold husband rub her unwashed feet at the end of the day and teasing his locked penis with her toes without refusing to acknowledge that's what she was doing.

And Clyde knew better than to bring it up himself.

"Marcus called me today," he said, unsure of what she'd say.

Abria looked up and laughed.

"He actually *called* you?" She said. "I told him not to. He can be so mean sometimes."

She snickered.

"He told me about...about listing out fantasies," Clyde said. "About how I should give yo that list before your date with him on Saturday night."

She raised her eyebrows and smirked. "Did he now?"

"Yeah."

"Guess you better get listing then," she said with a wink. "And be specific. I'll know, of course, if you leave something out."

"Are you really going to do all that stuff for him?" Clyde asked, already knowing the answer. "With him?"

"Probably," Abria said, and took another sip of wine. Then she cast him a sympathetic smile and reached across the couch, ruffled his hair. "Awwwe, don't look so sad, cuck. You'll get to hear all about it. You might even get to see some of it too. All your secret little fantasies involving me will happen. Just not with you. You do get to blog about it to the world though."

Clyde nodded, his confined penis screaming against the metal cage, and not just because of Abria's sole rubbing against his inner thigh.

Spanking would have to be first, he thought, staring at the blank legal pad on the table in front of him later that night after Abria had gone to bed. That's how she'd decided she couldn't submit to him in the first place, back early on in their dating life -- he'd tried to spank her and had been terrible at it. She'd ended up laughing at him.

He wrote it down.

Just writing "spanking," though, wasn't really enough. Because he'd imagined more than that -- Abria across his lap, having made some grave transgression, in need of some punishment and a lecture. She'd be defiant at the start of it, but she'd be submissive and sweet by the end of it. He'd make her count each smack, make her thank him after each one, make her lose track and start again. He'd grab a rough fistful of that gorgeous scarlet hair and anchor her that way. And when he was done, he'd put her in the corner with her pants around her ankles.

He wrote all that down. Abria wasn't joking; she really would know if he left anything out.

He winced. Marcus was going to do that to her. Clyde had been thinking about this since he'd first started dating Abria and it had never happened, and now Marcus would just get to enjoy it.

He frowned. What about the French maid thing? It was embarrassing, but Abria would know about it. And she'd know if he left it off the list.

It wasn't a totally developed fantasy; he'd just always been turned on by the whole French maid chic in general. A tight, blousy top; a splayed out skirt far, far too short; stockings and a headband and a ton of frills to complete the look. He'd imagined coming home to Abria dressed as such, on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor.

The thought of Marcus deciding what happened next was painful.

He'd have to include anal sex too. Abria had never had it with anyone, although it wasn't for lack of trying on Clyde's part.

And now she'd have it with Marcus instead.

There was also the collar and leash question. He'd brought it up to Abria before -- part of a bigger discussion about bondage in general -- and she'd really only laughed at him. She probably wouldn't laugh if Marcus put her in a collar and led her around on a leash. She'd probably think it was pretty hot.

He sighed and wrote that down too.

****

Clyde worked a half-day on Saturday; he'd left for the office after lunch at home with Abria.

She was dressed for a date when he got back, wearing her favorite tight black dress and heels. He couldn't remember the last time she'd put in this much effort to go on a date with him. She even had a bracelet of silver Celtic knots on her left wrist, an anniversary gift he'd gotten her last year that he'd never seen her wear.

It was a small thing, but he noticed.

"Hi babe," she said, and kissed him on the cheek as he walked in. "I got to run; you know how busy the Chancellor gets on a Saturday night."

Clyde swallowed. He did.

She had the key to his chastity cage on a necklace; it rested just above her perfect breasts.

"Do you have that list for me though?" She asked. "I don't know what Marcus's plans are for tonight, but I'm excited."

"I...yeah," he said, and made his way into the small spare bedroom he used as a home office. He tore off the top sheet from the legal pad, the one where he'd written out the things he had always wanted to do with his wife.

Written them at the direction of her lover.

He made his way back to the entryway and handed it to Abria. She gave it a cursory glance and smiled.

"Mmmm sounds hot," she said, and tucked it into her purse. "All right, babe, don't wait up. Have a good night, but if I get home and the toilet still isn't clean, you're getting an extra three days in chastity, OK?"

Clyde nodded. "Yes."

"Perfect." She kissed him, on the mouth this time, then stepped back. "One last thing, I think, right?"

Of course there was one last thing, Clyde thought. There always was. And somehow, this was always the hardest part, the thing he thought most about with a mix of animalistic arousal and emotional agony.

He knelt in front of his wife and put his hands under her tight black skirt, up her toned thighs and wide hips until he felt the hem of her panties. Then he slid them down her legs to her ankles and she stepped out of them.

"Won't be needing those," she said with a wink. "OK, have a good night, my love. I'll see you tomorrow."

And with that she was gone, and Clyde was left in the living room, stuck in chastity, holding a pair of Abria's damp, dark green panties.

Damp. She'd been thinking about Marcus.

He sighed and tried to ignore the dull ache in his balls at the smell and feel of Abria's fluids on the satin. He turned, headed for the laundry hamper in the bedroom, and his phone hummed in his pocket.

He checked it. A text from Marcus.

Look on the bright side, it read. You're the one who knows what color your wife's underwear was today.