Time with Jeff
I look at the clock. My husband won't be home for a couple of hours, that's plenty of time to have some fun with Jeff.
I have only known Jeff for a month, but I have already had better sex with him than I ever had with my husband.
I sneak nervously up the stairs and climb on the bed. Oh, how deceitful it feels to pull down my trousers and knickers and throw them on the floor. But where is Jeff? I lean over and search the bedside drawer. Here is my plastic lover, hiding amongst my clean underwear, naughty boy.
Jeff likes to take me from behind, so I turn on my side and raise a knee. In the mirror I see him pushing his way between my thighs. The touch of his hardness on my soft skin sends a shiver through my whole body.
Slowly, gently he probes forward. I can see the rounded tip creeping towards my pleasure grove, a pink ravine between two ridges thatched with dark curly hair. Down the ravine flows a shiny stream of my love juices.
I gasp as he reaches the sensitive place. I am wet and open for him.
I want him to pause to extend the magic of this first contact. I would like to savour the feeling of him testing the resistance of the muscles that guard my secret cave. But my body puts up little resistance.
He thrusts fast and deep into me. He has the strength of the young man I recall from my adolescent fantasies. He is the black skinned man from my swimming club, the muscular man I lusted after. It was he that gave me my first naughty dreams. It was he who was the subject of so many erotic fantasies.
And now, I feel and watch his thick black cock, pumping all the way in and out, over and over again. Oh, my goodness, this is amazing, but too fast.
We have plenty of time. I pull Jeff out for a moment. It makes a most delightful squelch as he emerges all wet and sticky. I have an urge to use my tongue, to discover the divine taste of my own juices. It's salty and sweet, like honey.
I apply my hands to explore my body. I find many places that want to join in the love game. My lips, my nipples, my clit, all long to be touched, squeezed and rubbed until fully and magnificently aroused.
When I return Jeff to my vagina I find my mind and body are totally in control of the psychotic drugs that sex generates. Adrenalin and endorphins create the images in my mind, direct my hands and take away all caution and anxiety. Whatever the science is, for many exciting minutes I enjoy as much sexual pleasure as my body can take.
Finally overcome by all-consuming euphoria, I am left content and relaxed. My eyes are closed, and I hear myself sighing and muttering, "Thank you Jeff. You were great!"
Then I open my eyes. It takes me some time to make sense of what I see in the mirror. My husband is standing behind me with an amazed look on his face. How long had he been there?
He speaks first.
"I came home early to help you get ready for the concert. Then ..."
"Get the fuck out of here, Alan!" I shout. "Bad timing, Alan! Get the fuck out!"
He looks shocked by the ferocity of my outburst. He hurriedly leaves and I hear him go into the bathroom.
I take some time to collect my thoughts. I decide a strong but honest approach to Alan will work best. I pick up the dripping dildo and take it into the bathroom to clean it.
Alan is sat on the edge of the bath looking very nonplussed.
"Yes. I have a big black dildo." I say to him. "I bought it after I found dozens of spunk stained tissues lost between the cushions in the lounge. No doubt you dropped them there when you were wanking on match nights."
"Probably" He mutters, trying to evade an admittance of guilt.
"Well, what I suggest you do, is go down stairs and put on a pot of tea. And when I am dressed, I will come downstairs and we will discuss what has been going on with our pathetic sex lives."
Meekly he does what I suggest. And, while I am cleaning and dressing myself, I hatch a plan to force home my small advantage.
Our conversation
When I go downstairs. He is sat at the coffee table, with fresh tea and biscuits.
"You look nice." He says in a re-conciliatory tone.
I have put on a dark jacket and skirt suit, that I hope made me look sexy but in control.
"Thank you, I do my best. But, I think we need to talk about masturbation." I say picking up my cup of tea.
"I'm so sorry I have been wanking so much, but..."
I cut him short.
"Perhaps it would help if I start by telling you about the research I have been doing, about why people masturbate in marriage."
He looked interested, so I go on.
"And you will be pleased to know I found most married men masturbate at least once a month. And so, I guess you are quite normal."
"Goodness! Am I?"
"But you are not completely off the hook yet, because they recommend people who masturbate should discuss it occasionally with their partners and get some sort of understanding. You didn't do that, did you?"
"No! Sorry!" He says a little shamefaced.
"But that is not what interests me now." I say. "I also found out there is almost as many married women as men who admit they masturbate."
"That left me wondering why I was missing out?" Can you guess what are the main reasons women gave for masturbating?"
"Urm... Their husbands are no good in bed?"
That was the third reason. And the second reason, was that women just feel good about themselves and enjoy safe and accessible sex. But the single most important reason is, can you guess?"
"No! I have no idea."
"Well, most women, and men too, masturbate to explore strange and shameful fantasies they feel they cannot explore with their partners."
"Oh!" was all Alan could say, as he is clearly working out what that means about him.
"OK, well, let me tell you about my strange fantasy I felt I couldn't explore with you, if you want to hear it?"
"Oh, yes, please. What is it?"
"Well, you remember I used to belong to a swimming club in my teens?"
He nods.
"Well, there was a strong well-built black boy I really fancied. I more than fancied him, I often imagined what it would be like to be fucked by him. I would lie in bed and imagine him coming into my changing cubicle, and slowly sticking his black dick in me from behind, then leaving without saying a word."
"Did he ever do that!"
"No! This was only a fantasy, but my favourite fantasy. I didn't even know or speak to him. I only knew his name was Jeff, because I heard other boys call him that."
"Do you still think of him?"
"No. Well, not until I tried to remember what fantasies I used in my teens to masturbate. I remembered kneeling up on my bed and pushing a finger in myself from behind. And imagining it was Jeff's dick. I wasn't much good at it, but as an adolescent girl it was enough to get me off.
"So when I decided I needed to explore my secret desires, I went on line and bought an eight inch black silicon dildo, so I could make it more real."
"And do you like using it?" He asks.
"It's amazing. It's a bit too big, but it gives me the best orgasms I have had for months."
I didn't tell him they were the best orgasms ever. I need to protect his fragile ego. I decide to change the subject, and ask.
"So what I need to know is what are your sexual fantasies. The ones that turn you on the quickest."
"Urm! I don't think I can answer that easily. I haven't really thought about it."
"Try."
"Well for year's I have been disappointed you always wait for me to start sex. You never take the initiative."
"I do often." I protest.
"Well if you do, you do it in that good wife way, of making it look like it was all my idea."
"I suppose it may look like that at times."
Maybe he has a point. Maybe our lack lustre sex life is partly my fault.
"Well OK, I promise I will take the initiative more often."
"Really? Thank you. That would be great."
"So, is your fantasy, for me to meet you in sexy clothes at the door, and make you bonk me in different rooms every night?"
"Ha! That might be fun sometime. But, if I am honest my fantasy is a bit kinkier than that."
"So, go on what is it?"
"You won't believe it."
"Come on Alan! We need to be leaving soon. Tell me your fantasy?"
"Well, I like to imagine going upstairs and catching you playing with yourself. But in my fantasy, you let me watch and sometimes let me join in. In fact the porn I watch, is of mature women diddling themselves."
"Oh, my dear!" I said realising I had spoiled his fantasy. "Well next time I diddle myself, I promise you can watch, if you catch me at it."
With that promise, his ego was in a state where he could get in the car and drive.
As we are travelling, Alan is still trying to work out the implications of our talk. After a few miles he thinks of something more he needed to say.
"It wasn't just you told me to fuck off when I found you upstairs just now, but it was that big black thing sticking out of your cunt! That really did shock me."
"Oh, dear Darling! I did get it wrong for you didn't I. I promise I will get rid of that big black thing and replace it with a smaller pink thing."
"Well now I know why you chose something big and black, It is not such a big issue for me. But maybe if you add a variety of sex toys, that might amuse us both."
"Thanks darling. I promise I will do that. I will look for something on the internet for us."
Alan smiles at this further small concession and I wonder if I dare to ask him for another thing for me.
"And perhaps Darling, you might try to surprise me, sometimes? Come up behind me without saying a word and touching me up, you know. And, if I don't push you away, I might let you have a quickie. I would like being reminded of my fantasy with Jeff."
"That sounds fun." Says Alan. "But are you sure?"
