"I know honey, really sorry for being late tonight," my husband explained in his latest text. It was after 9 o'clock, and I'd already eaten dinner without him. He'd warned me that he'd be late tonight, but I still was hoping that he'd be home soon.
What he wrote next though intrigued me, "I'm arranging a bit of a special surprise for later. Something memorable - trust me."
"Would you care to explain?"
"Nope. You'll have to trust me."
We're often sending each other teasing and racy text messages during the day. Today was no exception. Quite the contrary, his notes had been especially dirty today. Whatever it was that he had on his mind, I'm guessing that he'd been planning it all day at least, maybe longer. Hmm. The thought that he was planning something got me tingling.
"Can't you at least give me a hint?" I texted back.
"Sure."
"How's this," added after what seemed like an eternity, "I'm in the mood to make one of your fantasies come true!"
"Which one?" I asked quickly, my blood starting to race.
"See you in an hour."
"What, that's it?"
"See you in an hour."
"Oh, come on, one more hint?"
"Use your imagination. And I'll see you in an hour."
Oh, for fuck's sake, this man really knows how to push my buttons, but in all the right ways.
With an added burst of energy, knowing that I had an hour to kill, I set about to finish a few chores. While my hands focused on the mindless task of tiding up, my mind was working furiously to figure out what my husband might have in mind.
Given the kind of relationship we had, sex was a big part of our lives together - both doing it, as well as talking about it. We talked a lot about what we liked in the bedroom (and elsewhere) with each other. Those conversations ranged from self-congratulations at the frequency, quality and intensity of our love life after all these years, to specific little requests of each other, to our fantasies.
Thinking of this last one, I excitedly went through which one he might be referring to.
Most likely it was some kind of bondage twist he was thinking of. I'd commented several times in the past couple of weeks (not too subtly) that he hadn't handcuffed me to anything recently. I did a quick mental list of the places we'd talked about using our favourite red leather restraints - the bedposts, the towel hooks in the bathroom, the railing of the deck outside our bedroom. Where else? My mind was racing a mile a minute now.
Fuck the dishes.
Looking at the clock, it was still almost 40 minutes before my husband was going to be home, and I was already a mess thinking about what he had planned. I headed upstairs to the bedroom to think about what might be on his mind.
If not bondage, then what...
Role play perhaps? We'd talked about quite a few of those, and he knew that was one of my favourite ways to experiment. But most of the scenarios we talked about didn't work well at home - the policeman pulling over the speeding nymphomaniac, the strangers meeting in the bar, the secretary looking for a promotion, the quickie in the club washroom with the bartender, the online hookup, and so on. Which one could he be thinking we can do at home?
Ooh, maybe the one about the sexy fireman coming to rescue the horny housewife in the middle of the night?
Thinking long and hard about that last scenario, I changed out of my jeans and into the silk nightgown my husband bought me a couple years back. Although nightgown wasn't really the right word since the beautiful pale blue silk barely covered by breasts at one end, and my ass at the other. Why he spent $500 on something that would only be worn for the express purpose of removing it very quickly I'll never know. But knowing that it was his favourite, it seemed like the right choice for tonight.
Still 15 minutes. Hmmm.
What fantasy of mine was he thinking of?
We were typically pretty aligned on the fantasies we had - different of course, but we rarely had one that the other wasn't more than willing to fulfill. Except...
The one fantasy that we had talked about a number of times, but had agreed to disagree on was a threesome. I'd certainly made my position clear that I was game. But my husband had always been somewhat cool to the idea. I'd almost stopped bringing the idea up because although he admitted to being "intellectually curious" about the idea (as he described it), he didn't feel comfortable enough to actually go through with it. Even when I'd made the very straight-forward offer of having another woman joining us in the bedroom, he'd said no. His rationale was flattering in that he said that he could get every sexual fantasy fulfilled with me, so why did we need anyone else?
I understood his thinking in some way, but I'd also made it apparent (gently) that I didn't have the same hang-up. The idea of being pleasured by someone (man or woman) while my husband watched was incredibly sexy. I was a virgin when I met my husband, and that lack of experience created a certain curiosity. But it was more than that. Hell, the idea of watching another woman make my husband cum was about as sexy a fantasy as I could imagine.
While he understood this, and he agreed that watching me orgasm with someone else was a truly hot idea, my husband was by nature a jealous type. He wasn't sure if it was really something he could handle. Man or woman, he wasn't sure that he could handle the idea that another person could make my body react the way he did.
Like any good relationship, despite our differing opinions on the matter, that didn't stop us from talking about it from time to time. I still remember the time when he had used my big vibrator on me. He was ramming his cock into my mouth and holding the vibrator deep inside when he said that I should "imagine that it's another man's cock inside you while I fuck your mouth." Oh my God! I was completely caught off guard by that comment, and that was certainly an orgasm to remember.
Somewhere over the past few minutes, I had lay down on the bed, and with my mind wandering, so was my hand. Only now did I recognize what I was doing, my very sticky hand alternating between rubbing my clit and reaching further down to tease and occasionally probe deeper.
For heavens sake, was he not home yet?!
At just that moment, I heard to front door open.
"Hello." I heard hesitantly at first, "Dear, where are you?"
"Upstairs," I managed to call out, my finger still slowly tracing between my pussy lips.
"OK, great." he said, "Give me just a minute and I'll be right up."
Why the delay? Oh my God, I needed him. His fingers, his tongue, his cock, any or all of them. Fuck, how did he manage to get me into this state from just a few vague promises on text message? What could he possibly be up to downstairs? He should be bounding up the stairs right now to fulfill my fantasy - who fucking cares which one.