In recent weeks I have experienced a series of very erotic fantasies in which I dream I am my beautiful and loving wife, and she is me. More accurately, I suppose, I dream that I am still myself, with all of my libidinous and often perverse thoughts and desires, yet in these dreams, I occupy my wife's very sexy body, and do the things with, and to, my husband that she and I do together on our most depraved days and nights, and many things we have never even imagined, at least not yet.
It began several weeks ago with a discussion instigated by a song on the radio by the Cowboy Junkies and the late John Prine called, "If You Were The Woman, And I Was The Man," which, by the way, is a beautiful love song with nothing whatsoever in common with the lustful thoughts and dreams it has inspired in yours truly, excepting its title.
When I dream I am the woman, and she is the man, I think and act exactly as I probably would if I was still myself but our roles were somehow reversed, and not how my wife actually behaves or even how I imagine her to think. She is certainly not vain or enamored with her sexy body the way I am when I dream I am her and it is my body. Likewise, no man alive has the number of erections or produces the quantity of semen as my husband does in my dreams. Yet in my dreams, with my salacious brain inside of her scrumptious body, everything seems so real, especially the orgasms I experience, and my morning laundering of our bed sheets and my pajama pants can verify that what happens in my subconscious likewise takes place in my loins.
The story I am about to share with you begins when I, dreaming that I am my wife, arrive home from work before my husband and concoct a scheme to completely blow his mind, among other things.
So follow me now, if you like, down the rabbit hole of my unconscious or subconscious desires into a parallel world in which I am the woman, and she is the man...
# # # # # #
The idea occurred to me as soon as I noticed the large cardboard appliance box sitting at the curb in front of our neighbors' house, and I could feel myself becoming wet as my plan unfolded.
Wouldn't my husband be surprised when he got home from work to discover his own private glory hole in our family room!
I traced the lid of a jar at the appropriate height and cut out the hole with a kitchen knife, printed the letters G L on one side of the hole, and R Y on the other with my deepest shade of red lipstick, then painted my own proposed asset, pressing kiss marks onto the cardboard for effect. The final touch was an exaggerated pair of lips I drew around the hole in the same deep red lipstick. He would surely know what to do!
Next I stripped myself naked and left a trail of clothing from our front door to our family room, and positioned myself on my knees inside of the box, using the glory hole to watch for his arrival.
I felt so sexy and naughty, kneeling submissively in that box, completely naked, awaiting my darling husband and the mouthfuls of his yummy semen I would soon be swallowing, I could not keep my hands off of myself!
With the fingers of my left hand, I spread my labia while the fingers of my right hand explored my already dripping vagina, my thumb pressing and circling my engorged clitoris. In no time the air in my tiny space was permeated with evidence of my own sexual arousal. Oh, how I wished I had thought to bring my biggest vibrator into the box with me!