I have to admit that I wasn't completely out of touch about the estrangement in our marriage. I knew that the excitement had flagged. Two years ago, I had realized that after five years of marriage, Hans didn't look at me quite the same way. His touch was not as frequent, not as persistent, not as meaningful as it once had been. Then I began to realize that there was less and less passion in our lovemaking; and finally, in the past year I've recognized that our passionless sex was becoming more and more infrequent.
Perhaps, I thought, this is what all marriages become. I accepted it, and moved through my life with little or no conscious regret. Hans was a good man, a good provider, a good husband. Our social life was active and meaningful. I lived a life of indulgence and comfort, supported by a husband that was fit, handsome, affluent, and attentive to all my needs except in the love, sex, and romance area. I was a good woman, well bred, well raised, and wouldn't think of cheating on him. I had always been a "good" girl, and cheating on my husband just was not in the realm of my possibilities.
I had taken to fantasizing about men, however. Big, strong men who could overpower me with their lust, their charm, and their husky bodies. Men who desired me in the worst way; men who could not help themselves; strong men who would humble themselves at my feet in order to have their way with me, and would not take no for an answer if I refused them. My fantasies centered around me being indifferent to a big hulk of a man as he begged and pleaded with me for sex. Then when he was sure he wouldn't get it, he would take me by force. Not too much force was needed, as I had planned to give in all along. It was a delicious fantasy, and often left me wet and panting with desire, and often I would slip my hand underneath my skirt and gently rub my vagina through my panties as I pictured myself in the arms of a man who was overpoweringly strong yet able to beg for my sexual ministrations, and would stop at nothing to have me. If I was driving in my car, I would only stroke lightly. If I was home alone, in my bed or in the bath, I would slip two fingers in my wet vagina and thrust them in and out until I achieved orgasm.
And so I lived comfortably with the denial of the knowledge of my true needs, and slipped into my fantasy world when my real needs were not being met. It was at such at time that my life changed forever.
I was leaving Friday evening for the weekend to visit my mother in a city 300 miles away. Hans was to have been busy for the weekend, playing golf on Friday afternoon, followed by drinks and dinner with his golf partners. The rest of his weekend would be spent, so he said, catching up on work and chores around the house.
I had been fantasizing wildly all day Friday, and was actually quite horny. When I reached the airport, I sat in the lounge sipping a dry martini while waiting for my flight, watching the men in the airport. I would see a good looking man, and first envision him begging me for affection, then roughly taking me when I was indifferent to his needs. I sat drinking, fantasizing, and pressing my thighs together in rhythm, my right foot swinging from my crossed legs. I wondered how each man would plead, and how each would overpower me, through force or coersion? I could feel myself getting wet, and longed to reach down and stroke my cotton panties.
Suddenly, a thought dawned on me. Was it me?? Was I so wrapped up in my fantasies that I had, for all intents and purposes, shut Hans out? Was he also having fantasies about women, just as I was having them about men?? Were we both in need of wild and passionate sex, but unable to turn to each other for it? Perhaps it was time to find out. With that in mind, I made a decision.
First I went to the desk and cancelled my flight, then called Mother from my cell phone, begging off with apologies, and promises for the next weekend. I would go home; shave, bathe, powder, and perfume myself, and seduce my husband when he got home. Perhaps I would make him beg when I got him all hot and bothered. Perhaps I would have to beg him, then attack him if he refused, matching his indifference with my ardor until he caved in and sprang up.
Feeling ever and ever more horny, I drove home, lightly touching myself all the way from the airport. I entered the security door of our apartment, and began planning which negligee I would wear, and how I would greet him when he arrived home. Should I be waiting by the door with a martini and a slinky nightie that showed off my pink nipples? Or perhaps call to him from the bedroom, where I would drape myself seductively on the bed, and ask him to unzip his pants and walk up to the edge of the bed, where I would proceed to suck and lick him to erection.
As I let myself in the front door to the apartment, I was surprised that the lights were on, and that I could hear music coming from the living room. Darn, he was already home!! I would just have to improvise!!! I hung my coat on the rack in the foyer and walked down the hallway to the living room.
When I got to the end of the hallway, I was shocked. There were two people, a man and a woman, who were complete strangers to me, sitting on my couch having a conversation. At least at first glance, they were complete strangers. The man was quite good looking in a rugged way, dark and swarthy, and dressed quite well and expensively. The tall, slender woman, I realized, was my husband, Hans. Hans, that is, dressed and made up to look exactly like a woman. He wore a black cocktail dress with tinted nylons, a dark brown wig styled modernly, and some of my best jewelry. He really looked like a woman!
My first feeling was shock, and then anger. I stopped in my tracks, taking a step back into the hallway to gather my thoughts. What was going on? Why was Hans dressed as a woman? And who was this man?? I peeked again, and added to myself, "this very good looking man". Hans was taking a sip from his glass, and the man said to him (her?),
"So why then did you ask me up to your apartment?" He had an accent, Italian or Greek. "You seemed very interested in me when you asked me up here, and very interested when you put on the music and dance with me, and make me my drink. So why now you will not make love to me?"
"You're just so handsome," she replied. "I just wanted to get to know you better. What kind of girl do you think I am?" Hans giggled coquettishly. I couldn't believe how much like a woman he looked and sounded!
"I hope you're the kind of girl who wants to make passionate love!" he shot back.
"Well, here, let me get you another drink, and we'll talk about it," she said. Hans got up and sashayed over to the bar, making the mystery man another stiff drink. I watched as the man watched her, and reached down to adjust the obvious bulge in his pants. When he/she came back to the couch, she sat down right next to the man, almost in his lap, and handed him the drink. She put her hand on the white shirt covering his muscled chest. I watched as she leaned into him and gave him a kiss on the neck, then took his face in her hands and gave him a tender kiss on the lips.
I realized that I was no longer thinking about being shocked or angry. Instead, I was getting even more turned on than I had been all day. My panties must be wringing wet, because I could almost feel myself dripping down there.
"Jimmy," she said. "If you just relax and behave yourself, I am going to make you a very happy man." With this, she reached over and gave his cock a little stroke and a squeeze. Jimmy turned his head and began kissing her, letting his hands roam over her body.
"Now, Jimmy, I said relax and be a good boy! Don't be in such a hurry." With this, Hans twisted away and knelt on the floor in front of him. She reached down and unzipped Jimmy's fly, fishing around in his pants for a moment. Unable to pull him out, she unbuckled his belt and top button, and opened up his pants, finally exposing his large, rock hard cock. As soon as I saw it, I felt weak in the knees. It was long, and smooth, not too big around, but big enough to fill a woman. Not just any woman, big enough to fill me. I was angry at Hans, but I was absolutely squirming by this time, and reached down inside my panties and rubbed the area around my clit. I was soaked and so were my thong panties, so I pulled them down and stepped out of them.
