Barbs Fantasy I Was The Next Man

Barb's Fantasy -- I WAS the next man

I love to write about women rediscovering or reigniting their sexual hunger, especially later in life: the MILF, the cougar, the vixen, or the hotwife. The sex life she pursues after she has experienced youthful romance, marriage, and children, and they are grown and gone. When she is no longer restrained by the boundaries of being a wife and a mother, she is free to explore as a sexual creature again, unbound by ties to family or tradition. Enjoy the story--comments are welcome.

Pursuit and seduction are the essence of sexuality.

~ Camille Paglia

*****

I know when my wife is becoming aroused. The signs were there.

After 23 years of marriage, I can see the changes in her, so familiar, so inexorably woven into my own arousal.

The obvious sign was that she had changed out of her one-piece swimsuit into a skimpy bikini. She was standing by the sink, looking out the window, oblivious to my approach. Something had her undivided attention.

The more subtle signs were there, too.

I could see her nipples becoming erect, poking through the thin material of her top, reflected in the kitchen window. Her small but perky breasts were rising and falling with her increased rate of breathing. Her skin was flushed. She was on tiptoes, her attention focused on the source of her arousal.

Jacques was a constant visitor while our son was growing up, his best friend. They were as different as they were close. Our son Mike was quiet, bookish, and shy, whereas Jacques (they called him Jax) was fearless about people, outgoing, and almost overly friendly. Completely unaware of social norms, he often walked around in only his briefs when on one of his frequent sleepovers and our family camping trips. Even as he grew into a teenager, it was a struggle to get him to wear pants around the house.

Now, he was 22 years old, with a fine, slender, and elegant build, a tall and lean frame with broad shoulders, every muscle visible as he flexed and moved. Mike was a few days late coming home from college. He stopped over to meet his girlfriend's parents. In the meantime, Jax was happy to have time in our pool, diving and swimming, his red Speedos perhaps a size too large, ever threatening to slip off each time he climbed out of the water.

I watched her for a moment. Since our son had left for college, Barb had thrown herself into CrossFit and dragged me along with her. Two years later, we both looked younger, thinner, and fitter, and our sex life had soared. She looked incredible, sleek, and sexy. Her newfound musculature had the effect of accentuating her breasts. With her strong legs, now nearly on tiptoes, and her toned arms, she was breathtaking.

I was dressed for a run in my threadbare blue jean shorts, an old t-shirt, and well-used running shoes, but I couldn't take my eyes off Barb.

To me, my wife is the most beautiful woman in the world. Her eyes were bright, intelligent, and full of life. They hold a warmth that feels like home, whether they're laughing at my terrible jokes or quietly studying me when I'm lost in thought. Her smile, warm and knowing, has this way of pulling me out of my darkest days.

I need to say that she's also beautiful in the moments other people don't see: the way her brow furrows when she's lost in a book, or how she tucks her hair behind her ear when she's focused on a challenge.

To me, she's not just a woman--she's my world, every imperfection and grace woven into a love I'll never fully deserve, but I try to earn every day.

Now, at this moment, her gaze dreamily followed Jax as he climbed out of the pool, water shimmering and cascading down his muscled frame, adjusting his swimsuit that seemed ever so close to slipping off, then climbing onto the diving board, posing like a trophy, and effortlessly diving into the water again. I heard her whisper to herself, "Oh God, I want that beautiful boy inside me. I want him. I'd make a man out of him."

She moaned softly.

It was a little alarming to hear her say those words out loud. Although recently we've been giving each other permission to openly discuss all topics, even sex, fantasies, erotic dreams, and the like. I guess the alarming part was that the object of her desire was real, swimming and flexing his grown-up physique a few yards away, not some imagined but faceless character from a fantasy, or even a performer in an erotic movie. Neither of us had ever expressed an interest in someone we knew.

This was an interesting development. I knew I should be jealous, but for some reason, I wasn't.

I watched her for a moment, considering the implications. I could confront her, and we'd laugh about this imprudent daydream and go on with our lives. Jax was a known quantity, and I felt no threat from him as a sexual rival. And what if she called my bluff and, in fact, admitted her real desire for him, or even pursued a rendezvous with him or another young man? That risk seemed real now.

Nonetheless, her arousal was palpable, so intense, and it affected me as well, as it always did. We were connected at some intangible, sexual level--it was undeniable. I felt my penis stir just watching her.

I wish there were a way to capture this moment: her desire, his youthful sexuality, an honest moment of lust between two amazing physical specimens. Their age difference makes it even more sensual, somehow. I watched for long moments, afraid to break the spell. Then, I saw her move one delicate hand to the front of her bikini top, tracing her own breast, lingering, then slowly dropping down to the front of her bikini bottom. I saw in her reflection as her fingers slipped past the elastic and sought out her own ready sex.

I heard her softly sigh as I moved in, gently trapping her between the sink and my body.

"Are you thinking of seducing him?" I asked. She jumped a little as I approached, startled out of her daydream.

"I, um, no! I, um, what are you..." She tried to deny it, but it was obvious. I found it amusing and a little arousing to observe my wife getting so openly excited by a young man, one we watched grow up.

"He's grown now, turned into quite a captivating young man, hasn't he?" I teased playfully. She tried to sneak her hand out of her bikini and put it into the dishwasher water, but I gently took it and lifted it to my nose, inhaling the scent of her arousal.

"Mmm," I whispered into her ear. "Are you imagining what his hard, sexy young body would feel like, pressed against yours?" I suggested, even as I pressed my body against her back. "What would he taste like? What would he feel like, deep inside you? His eager and lustful response to a beautiful and experienced woman?"

I felt her body, still tense from being caught, slowly relax again as she realized I was not her captor but instead her partner in crime. I nibbled her ear as I watched her reflection in the window. Jax was just beyond, flexing his muscles as he dove into the water, oblivious to everything.

She blushed, the red hue creeping along her neck to the swell of her breasts. She was undeniably aroused and deeply perturbed.

"Do you think he'd go for it?" I asked playfully.

She returned her gaze to his wet, sleek form, climbing out of the water and running past our window to dive in again.

"Really?" she asked, incredulously. "You're not serious... I mean, I'm his mother's age..."

Her false modesty and the attempt to deny her lust were charming.

"You could pass as his sister, honestly," I replied. "You've been fantasizing about seducing him all morning, at least," I noted. "And I'd rather have you pursue this experience, take a chance, and have that regret than not."

"Wouldn't you?" I prompted her.

She reached back and felt my hard penis, giving it a few gentle squeezes and tugs. "You're not angry or jealous? I mean, we've never done anything like this..."

That much was true. The gym and our military town were full of young, muscular men: meatheads and scholars alike. Barb had never given any of them a second look, as far as I knew. There was something about Jax that sparked a flame in Barb, and that flame set us both on fire, considering something neither of us had carefully evaluated. We were both a little reckless, indeed.

Barb mused quietly. "For some reason, when I saw him arrive from college, grown and looking more like a man than a boy, he's been dominating my thoughts. I wonder how he'd make me feel. Would it be as if I were young again? Feeling his powerful body against mine? Or would the contrast between our ages be more stark, and for me, painfully so?"

"Barb, my gorgeous, loving, and selfless wife. You will always be the spirited 18-year-old vixen I fell in love with. Maybe Jax sees you that way a little, too?" I told her as we watched him together. "Besides, would I have a reason to be jealous?" I wondered, to some extent, to myself.

Truthfully and perhaps shamefully, my curiosity and, yes, arousal were driving my actions more than I should have allowed. All kinds of sexy scenarios bubbled up in my mind. I imagined watching Barb kiss his young lips, tasting him, and pleasuring him even as her eyes were riveted on me. Doing things to him that excited me, getting a thrill from watching me stroke my dick as she tested the strength of our marriage. I found that I wanted to see my wife perform for me, having wild sex with another man. A younger, virile, and familiar man. The idea was exhilarating, I discovered, even if dangerous and quite risky.

"The idea turns me on as much as you," I confessed.

Barb took a deep breath. "I think it would be incredibly arousing to be naked in front of you and a strange man, so exposed, uninhibited." She paused, "Then, when you watched me have sex with him, someone young, hot..." she confessed, almost shivering as she imagined it. "It would be so sinful! So intense. It's a dangerous gamble if something goes wrong..." she observed.

Barb was right. We've never discussed sex outside of our marriage and, outside of fantasies, never taken any steps to find or secure a third sexual partner or couple. But, as an empty nest couple ourselves, we have had candid conversations about sex, read and watched erotic scenes and scenarios, and playfully imagined ourselves as part of them.

My fantasies were mostly based around 1980s movie stars in films like "The Cannonball Run." I imagined driving a sleek black Lamborghini, picking up incredible women, each with big hair, big boobs, and dressed in tight spandex, or a muscle car with a hot farm girl in Daisy Duke shorts and an aggressive sexual appetite. Or a "Bond girl," exotic and deadly. Barb would sometimes tease me with a fake accent or quote some girl from a favorite spy movie as we got ready for sex.

Women's fantasies are very different from what men imagine them to be. During our pillow talk, Barb once confessed to her most secret fantasy. From the movie "Indiana Jones and the Last Crusade." Barb described the scene where her two most desirable leading men of the time, playing roles as father and son, were discussing sleeping with the same woman. First, the father, then the son, was seduced. Barb fantasized about being the sultry blonde German spy, leaving the father's bed and slinking into the son's room the same night. The taboo sensuality of that unique scenario, the almost incestuous suggestion. She went as far as to describe the three of them sharing a bed together. The dominant father, the eager son, the Oedipal shadow over everything. Huddled with each other against the horrors of war-torn Europe. I had never read so much into such a simple and brief scene, but for Barb, it triggered a host of forbidden scenarios.

"Would you seduce him?" I prompted her, "A boy you practically raised like a son? Wrap your arms around him, pulling his hard, strong body close to yours," I mused.

I could feel Barb's breathing increase slightly; I knew the idea excited her.

"Would you kiss him?" I wondered out loud.

"Yes," she admitted.

"Then what?" I encouraged her.

"I'd press my body against his, feeling his chest rise and fall, running my hands through his hair, then down his muscular back, his eager lips pressed against mine..." She whispered, "He reminds me of you when we met, a little awkward but very sexy."

"He was like a son, you're right. We might as well call him 'Junior,' and now he is a fine man."

"A father and a son..." she whispered, slowly. I knew what she was referring to. I gently reached under her top with one hand, feeling her erect nipple, and massaged it with my fingertips. Barb sighed, letting her body rest against mine.

I whispered into her ear, "A sexy femme fatale, seducing a young innocent man. A woman fresh from his father's bed, enchanting the younger version of him, enticing him, until he submits to her nefarious plan..."

Barb murmured a soft sound of pleasure and desire. I let my other hand slip down to her bikini bottom, lightly brushing against the moist spot forming there. She moaned again, her body moving against mine. "I don't know..." Her voice faltered, the last ounce of resistance melting away.

"The father was experienced and dominating, but now her lust belongs to a younger man, so eager to please, fresh, and determined." I could feel her body tremble; the excitement was overwhelming, and any remaining judgment we had was left behind.

"But, what if..." she started.

"No regrets. No matter what. I love you," I told her, perhaps a little recklessly, then stepped back, slowly, reluctantly, knowing I was playing with fire. Barb took a moment to collect herself, fix her swimsuit, and check her reflection in the window.

"Wish me luck!" she said with a devious grin, then whispered, "I'm getting excited just thinking about it!"

Barb turned and kissed me, then sashayed out of the house like a sexy shadow, joining her mark by the pool with feline grace. I watched his reaction from the window. Jax lit up when he saw her, as usual. I suspected a boyhood crush for her still lingered in our young man. They took turns diving into the cool water, and Barb coached him on his technique. Jax ate it up, enthusiastically following her directions, glad for the attention. I noticed when Barb looked away, his eyes were on her breasts or butt, careful not to get caught, but it was obvious. The outline of his penis in the thin, wet Speedos was becoming more prominent and impressive.

Barb pointed to the sun and indicated that sunscreen was called for. Then, in an almost matronly manner, she got behind him and started to apply it to his back and neck. Nonetheless, her actions were less clinical and more a sensual caress, feeling the muscles in his neck, his back, along his sides, down to his lower back, and just under his waistband, where her hands lingered a little too long. Then down the back of his legs and up to his..., well, up his leg as far as she dared.

Quickly, she turned and expected him to return the favor. It was amazing watching her seduce him. He had no idea.

Jax, much taller than Barb, started at her neck, then her shoulders. As he reached the strings of Barb's bikini, she tugged them loose and let them fall away, holding the front on barely with one hand. He worked down her lithe, sexy back and sides until he reached her bottom. Then, she untied those strings and let the bottom slip down a little, just to be caught by her perfect round buttocks, just barely hanging on. Jax paused, and I'm sure his mind was conflicted. Here was the mother of his best friend, nearly naked, while he massaged tropical oil into her skin. His young body could read her signals before his brain would even allow the possibility. Barb must have sensed this, too.

She turned, dropping her bikini top, and kissed him. I heard myself gasp, almost in unison with Jax. He tried to pull back, just as Barb put her hand on the outline of his penis, feeling the length and heft. I gulped involuntarily as my wife touched the outline of another man's semi-hard penis. At that moment, I could see his shoulders droop, his arms snaking around her naked torso, pulling her in. She had won. Jax was hers.

The kiss lasted for several long minutes before she reluctantly pulled back.

"Ms. Wells, what's happening?" Jax sputtered, unsure, but I noticed his arms were still around her.

"I want you, Jax. Do you understand?" She smiled, then pulled him close. "I want you to take me--any way you want. I'll do whatever you want me to." She pressed her body against his, her stiff nipples dragging against his taut skin, her hands exploring his body. "Do you want my body, Jax? Haven't you wanted it since you were a boy?" She slid her hand along the outline of his swelling penis, smiling at her own seduction. She traced its outline carefully. It was long and thick under her hand as she squeezed it. Jax, it seemed, was very well endowed and easily aroused.

"Um, Ms. Wells..." he started, but I could hear his resistance faltering.

"Call me 'Barb,'" she corrected him.

"Um, Barb, I mean, is this OK?" He trailed off, his mind racing to catch up to his body.

"Jax," Barb confided in him, "I know you've wondered what it would be like to make love to me; it's OK. It's normal. Here's your chance, your one chance, to finally realize your boyhood dreams." Then, she put her mouth next to his ear and whispered, "Your fantasies."

Jax's mind wrestled with the situation when Barb told him, "Come inside me. My husband, Matt, is waiting for us; he wants this too." I saw the look of shock on Jax's face, but Barb took his hand and led him in.

Barb removed what was left of her swimsuit and hung it to dry, then, nude, turned to Jax and waited as he stripped his Speedo off, hanging it next to hers. She paused for a second as his penis was exposed but then continued before he had time to reconsider. Jax's penis, which was now free, large, thick, uncut, already erect, and sticking out straight, slightly pointing upward, like a shark's fin, was rigid and fixed. Beautiful.

She casually led him to the wicker couch. I was sitting nearby on a matching loveseat, trying to act nonchalant, focused on reading a book I hastily picked up a second ago. She had him sit, then she joined me, all naked and sensual. I felt my heart beating faster as the reality of the situation became so much more real.

"What do you think, Matt?" She purred, her prize in tow. I looked into her eyes, but the decision was already made. I turned to Jax. He looked uneasy, even as I smiled back.

"Uh, hi, Mr. Wells..." he started.

"Jax, call me Matt. My only rule is that nothing leaves this house. You respect Barb, our privacy, and our trust in you. Can you do that?" I asked in my best "Daddy" voice. Jax nodded, timidly.

"Isn't Barb sexy, Jax?" I prompted.

"Yes! For certain, she's the sexiest woman I've ever met, Mr. Wells, I mean, Matt... Oh, I'm not sure I can get used to that, um, Dad..." Jax swallowed hard, his eyes darting between Barb's and mine.

"You can call me Dad, if that makes you comfortable," I offered. Jax looked relieved.

"Um, what do I do?" he asked, unsure of the protocol. I felt for him.

"Son, you'll be fine," I assured him.

Barb kissed me, whispering, "Thank you," and moved to sit next to Jax. She kissed him again, and after a few hesitant moments, Jax began to kiss her back. Barb was incredible. Even watching her sensually attack this young rival was electrifying. I had no idea how powerful it was to watch your wife and another man. People compare it to porn, but that's nowhere close. The woman I courted, whom I spent my life with, was shamelessly allowing her lust to run wild, even as I observed from nearby. Maybe because I was nearby?

Jax's impressive erection stayed up, bouncing, even as his mind raced to catch up to his body. Eventually, he succumbed to Barb's sexual advances, allowing himself to enjoy her, kissing her back, and feeling her body against his.