This is the most basic story you can get. A guy decides to give in to his wife's fantasy of seeing him with another guy, and soon learns that its his fantasy too. As with other stories posted in here, it can get extremely racy at times. If issues of sexuality bother or disturb you, then don't read this.
I guess like a lot of guys my college years were marked by chance occasions with other men. Awkward glances in the lavatory turned to smiles, which then turned to more than that. Often these trysts were consummated in the bathroom stall, Occasionally they would drift back to a dorm room or apartment, but never did these entirely sexual encounters lead to anything I considered a relationship. So it is not surprising that I never considered myself to be gay. Certainly, I had never had a revelation, or any moment of seeing the light, where I knew I liked men, as many of my gay friends have suggested should happen. My attraction towards women never wavered. The sex I had with men was entirely separate from the sex I had with women. It was almost as though I were two separate people, a strong dominant top with my girlfriends, and a submissive, girly, little thing with the men I met in bars, restrooms and us station platforms. I thought I was free to choose between men and women as I saw fit. Seeing the difficulties my gay friends had with their lives, I chose women. When I met a wonderful woman, I decided to marry her, and live a life that the outside world would see as normal.
Our married life was pleasant enough. I loved my wife a great deal, and we communicated well, always doing our best to resolve issues in the relationship before they grew out of hand. I trusted my wife with some pretty intimate details about myself, but still, I kept my biggest secrets from her. I never divulged the details of my college trysts, and I certainly never explained to her what turned me on about being with a man. I guess its nothing special - a lot of men have sex with other men and likewise have great and satisfying sex with women too. I admit it though, I was embarrassed by my urges. I was embarrassed, because when I was with another man, I wanted more than anything to act like a girl.
Our first year of marriage was normal enough. As newlywed elation drifted into the routine of daily life, I found myself thinking of my old fuck buddies, and how I wouldn't mind having a go every now and then. I repressed most of these thoughts. I didn't want to jeopardize my marriage, and didn't want to do anything that would put my wife at a health risk. For all I knew, my secret would be safe forever.
It was around this time that I started having fantastically vivid dreams at night. In these dreams I was a wife or a stripper or especially a young college co-ed. The girl I was in my sleep was like my alter ego. She was strong and clever, with a quick wit and a wicked tongue.
I thought I could go on like this, if not forever, then at least for the foreseeable future. Little did I know I had been talking in my sleep.
My wife and I had a mutual friend, Eric. Eric worked as a fundraiser for the large charities of our city. This was the perfect job for him as his powerful charm, imposing presence, height and masculine build lent him an air of total authority. It was easy to see how Eric charmed old society women into writing large checks for whatever cause or artistic endeavor he was pushing at the moment.
My wife and Eric had been spending an inordinate amount of time with each other that season. My wife was putting together her notes for a biography she was working on, and Eric was helping her target those notes towards potential publishers and charitable foundations. It was not unusual for me to come home from work to find them hunched over the coffee table studying old manuscripts and sharing inside jokes. Often my wife and he would put their work aside and the three of us would spend long hours talking and laughing, drinking coffee and flirting with each other in a ever increasingly ambiguous way. I became a little uncomfortable with the number of late evenings Eric was spending at our house, but put these thoughts aside. A relationship is nothing without trust after all. More than that, I could not deny to myself the increasingly erotic feelings I was experiencing as I observed my wife's closeness with this man. I found myself dreaming of them together, of her kneeling in front of him with his large cock in her mouth. In these dreams he was laughing at me, telling me to get on my knees to watch my wife up close. I often woke from these dreams with a start, the image of Eric's hard penis burned in my memory.
One evening I returned home from work to find them already slightly drunk. My wife's face was flushed, and one of the straps of her dress had fallen off her shoulder. To my sober eyes, it seemed as though the hem of her baby doll was worked a little too far up her smooth thigh and unusually bunched around her crotch. I stood in the doorway absorbing the moment. Eric, and my wife stared blankly at me, their eyes a little glazed from the gin they had consumed, as the silence began to consume us.
"Darling, you're home! Well don't just stand there, come and have a drink with us." Smy wife finally said patting the couch between her and Eric. I didn't know what to do. On the one hand, I knew I had just caught them in the midst of an affair, on the other, my wife looked so beautiful, and Eric so handsome, I admitted to myself that the thought of them together was making me aroused. I figured there would be enough time to untangle this mess in the morning. In the meantime I would sit, let my wife pour me a drink and wait to see what would unfold.
The three of us all readily drank, and my wife ensured our glasses were never empty. Her behavior grew more and more provocative, and Eric seemed to revel in manly control of the situation. He reclined on the couch and draped his arm behind me and my wife. The ambiguous flirting became intense and I felt myself grow more and more shameless. I was acting coy, impetuous and cute. In a word, I found myself acting more and more girly as the night wore on.
"All right" my wife said. "Enough joking around. All this liquor has gone to my head. It's time for some fun. I want to reveal my sexual fantasies."
I was too drunk to be shocked really, but I was surprised. My wife was an extremely open and sensual, but she always maintained her decorum among company. The way she had said 'sexual fantasies' with her mouth open an her wet lips pouting left no doubt as to the fact that she intended to live them out after she revealed them. Eric and I waited in anticipation.
"I have always wanted to watch two guys get it on. You know - Fucking. There I said it."
"Oh, come on!" I exclaimed. "Just what are you trying to drum up here." I protested falsely.
"Don't play stupid with me." She said. "I hear you talking in your sleep. Eric, would you like to know what my husband really wants? Would you to know what he really fantasizes about?" Eric was grinning in a bemused sort of manner. It was clear that he already knew what she was going to say. He shrugged, the humiliation was for my benefit and my benefit alone.
