My husband had sexual fantasies he wouldn't tell me about. I was slow to realise it, and didn't spot how it was damaging our sex life and our relationship.
I got my first clue a little while ago, when we were out at a nice restaurant to celebrate Valentine's Day. We never actually go out on Valentine's Day, because everywhere is packed to the rafters, and the prices are stupidly high, so we went out a week later. The restaurant was quiet, and our waiter was drop dead gorgeous, and French!
"I think that waiter fancies you," he suggested.
"Don't be silly," I countered.
"Well, he was very attentive to you, and he kept looking down your top at your cleavage."
"All the men do that!"
"They do when it's you, because you are so attractive. I think you could have any man you want!"
"Now you're being silly, and, anyway, you're the only man I want," which was stretching the truth a bit, as I still liked flirting with attractive men.
"Well, that's nice, although I would understand if you admitted that you sometimes fancy other men. I'm not saying you would do anything, just that you must sometimes fancy them?"
"Well, sometimes I suppose."
"So, what about our waiter?"
"He is quite attractive I guess, and, of course, he's French!"
"Ha ha, so do you always fancy French men?"
"Not all of them, but it helps."
"OK, so now we know something about your tastes in men."
"Look, can we talk about something else, you're making me feel uncomfortable?"
"Oh, OK, sorry, it was just," he trailed off.
We were both a bit quiet for the rest of the meal, not hostile, more reflective, and it was embarrassing every time our waiter appeared at the table. Once home my husband had a few drinks and then became rather amorous, so I suggested we go to bed. I wasn't really in the mood, but he obviously was, as he practically tore my clothes off, and fucked me almost violently. He didn't hurt me, I don't mean that, but he was very energetic and totally in charge. He pounded into my defenseless pussy, as though he had not had sex in weeks, which certainly was not the case. It wasn't love making, it was pure animal lust.
Strangely, it turned me on too, so after a few minutes of his wild passion, we both experienced powerful orgasms. The aftershocks went on for a little while, but while I was still contracting he rolled off me with a grunt.
"Wow, that was fantastic!"
"Yes, what got you so excited?"
"I don't know."
"Was it our conversation earlier?"
"Maybe. Anyway, I need to sleep now."
"OK, I love you."
"Love you too."
The next morning we were back to normal, it was as if our conversation never happened. We had breakfast, did a few chores, then since the sun was shining, we went to the beach and walked along the sea front holding hands like teenage lovers. The day was so warm that I was wearing a flared summer skirt, and cotton top, with sandals on my feet.
Being by the beach it was quite breezy, and my skirt was blowing about a bit, but not so much it was a problem. Rob was holding my right hand and I had an ice cream in my left hand. I love ice cream. Suddenly a freak gust of wind blew my skirt right up to my boobs. Anyone in front of me could see my tiny pink thong, and my bare legs. My left hand was stuck holding the ice cream, so I tried to let go of Rob's hand, but he just squeezed tighter, preventing me from freeing it to sort out my disobedient skirt.
"Rob, what are you doing, let go of my hand!"
"Not just yet."
My skirt was riding higher, if anything, and my lower half was completely revealed.
"Christ Rob, those guys are looking at my panties!"
"I know, we're giving them a treat."
The three young men, stopped and just looked at my legs and my panties, smiling.
Finally Rob let go of my hand, and I was able to regain my dignity, a bit, by smoothing my skirt down. The guys thanked us and moved on, as I rounded on my husband.
"What were you thinking?" I demanded in a high pitched whisper.
"I was thinking how turned on I was showing you off like that? Did you not enjoy it?"
"No, of course not."
