As I stood there, my wife's note clutched in my hand, I wondered what I had done to deserve this.
Then I stopped to think about the course of recent events in our life.
Our time together had been rough, these past few months - years, really, to be honest. When we were first married, my wife Denise and I were inseparable, and, like most couples, the first year or so of marriage was fantastic. Especially the sex. We had been adventurous, making love pretty much whenever and wherever we felt like it at home. There was even one time when, driving home late at night from a concert, that we were so horny that we stopped the car on the side of the road and snuck onto a golf course to fuck out in the open on one of the greens.
That was nearly ten years ago now, and steady advancement in each of our jobs had given us financial success and security but had steadily robbed our marriage of its zest. We still made love, and, yes, it was still good, but it was hurried, squeezed in at the end of a twelve-hour day or done between errands on the weekend. It was even worse now that my department was in charge of the marketing for a new product launch, and most days I was in at 7 a.m. and didn't typically leave the office until well after 10 p.m. Denise worked a lot, but my life - what was left of it - really wasn't even my own anymore.
One day, at the end of one of my marathon sessions at the office, we were lying in bed, and I was fighting off the urge to sleep so we could at least have some time to talk to each other about our respective days when Denise got uncharacteristically serious.
"Sweetie, this is important. You know your birthday is coming up two weekends from now," she said.
I hadn't actually realized this with the pace of my work schedule lately. I nodded anyway, and she pressed on.
"I've decided that we're going away that weekend. No excuses. No iPhone, no laptop, no work, nothing. In fact, I've already rented a cabin in Vermont that's a half-mile back in the woods on a private pond - it's so deep in the sticks that it doesn't even get cell reception. And if they fire you, fine. At least I'll get my husband back."
I listened, still nodding, though more in drowsiness than in agreement. But the next day, I told my boss I wouldn't be in on that Saturday and that I'd be out of touch that whole weekend. To my surprise, he agreed so long as I showed up for at least an hour that Saturday morning to give my team some direction for that day. I reluctantly agreed.
When I told Denise that I did get most of the weekend off, she was pissed at first. Then she asked, "So you're only going in for an hour - then you can drive up to meet me?"
"Yes," I said, "After that, I'm all yours the rest of the weekend."
She looked distracted for a moment, as though she were calculating something. Then her expression brightened.
"That's fine, love, that will definitely work. I'll just open the place up and bring all our food and supplies for the weekend. Oooh, I'm so excited!"
I had to admit that I was too. I had no idea what she was planning for me, but it had to be better than reviewing data from focus groups for a dozen solid hours.
My birthday weekend finally arrived. As promised, I did go into the office but I only stayed my requisite hour, then jumped on the freeway and headed north. By the time I got off the highway, it was already midday. I followed my wife's directions, going from state road to town road to back road to what finally seemed like a goat path until I found the driveway that was nearly hidden in the underbrush.
She hadn't been exaggerating. As I trundled down the driveway, I watched the tripmeter - this place was almost a mile back off the nearest road. As I finally got to the cabin, I noticed a rental car parked in the driveway. For a moment I wondered if I had the right address. I parked and walked up to the side door, where I found a note in Denise's distinctive handwriting that was marked, "To my love." I was inexplicably nervous as I wondered what she had planned for this weekend.
That was how I came to find myself in the middle of God-knows-where holding a note from my wife in trembling fingers.
I opened it and began to read.
"You've had the worst two months that I can remember, so I figured you deserve a reward. This weekend, we're going to realize all your fantasies. There are only a few rules:
One, once you go inside and freshen up, take off all your clothes and leave them off. You won't be needing them the rest of the weekend.
Two, put yourself first for once. This weekend is all about making you happy.
Three, trust me. Remember that I'm your wife, and I love you.
Once you've showered, come down the basement stairs and meet me out back.
Love, Me"
My stomach was tight and roiling as I shoved the note in my pocket. What exactly did she have planned? What did she means by "all my fantasies"?
Despite the frequency with which we made love early in our marriage, the majority of our sexual encounters had been pretty conventional, and I hadn't actually told her many of my fantasies for fear of putting her off. As someone who was relatively conservative in almost all aspects of her life, my wife wasn't someone to whom you could easily describe your most private urges. On occasion, though, that would sometimes change once we were in bed. There had been just a few times when she got excited and her entire aspect changed. She would get this breathless, eager quality, and she encouraged me to share my secret impulses before we had sex. On these occasions, I had divulged some of them.
Naturally, one of my fantasies involves a threesome where I would share her with another woman, but I almost didn't count that one since it is so common as to be almost a standard-issue desire for most men. Surprisingly, she wasn't averse to the idea when I mentioned it. In fact, she confessed she had always regretted that she never experimented with girls while she was in college. At the time we laughed since both ideas seem so clichéd nowadays. Unoriginal as these fantasies were this conversation lead to the one and only time we had actually - at least sort of - lived out one of our fantasies.
About a year or so after we were married, we ended up at a friend-of-a-friend's party. We were excited to go, since they had a huge, beautiful house, but we hardly knew anyone there. Out of nervousness or boredom - I'm not sure which - we both drank far too much, which lowered our inhibitions and our ability to drive. We knew we were there for the night and we were virtual unknowns, so we decided to adventure a little.
Denise met a blonde named Sarah, whose husband paid attention to every woman there but her. Whether it was natural attraction, a desire for revenge, or a little of both, Sarah spent most of her evening glued to Denise. They eventually ended up in a back bedroom, ostensibly to use the attached bathroom, but when I found them they were lying on the bed kissing. As I watched, Sarah's hand crept down under Denise's skirt and into her panties. She slipped a finger into her pussy and pumped it in and out. Denise, in turn, ground her pelvis into Sarah's hand and clutched at her ass, pulling the blonde woman into her. She popped the front of Sarah's jeans open and jammed her fingers into her new friend's cunt while her thumb massaged her clit, mimicking Sarah's fingering.
I watched at first, entirely mesmerized, but as they settled into a steady rhythm, I moved toward them. With her free hand, Denise grabbed my ass and pulled me closer to her. She unzipped my jeans and fished my hardening dick out. She popped it into her mouth and sucked me until I was hard, then pulled away and directed me towards Sarah. Without breaking pace, Sarah allowed me to slip into her mouth, and I held one hand against her head as I thrust my cock into her mouth, making her gag a little. As excited and inebriated as I was, I only lasted a minute or two before I shot my load down her throat. She eagerly sucked down my cum, wrapping her hand around my cock and squeezing me gently until she had licked up the last droplet of cum from my dick. I fell back, sitting heavily on a loveseat while Sarah turned her full attention back to kissing and fingering my wife. As they were kissing, Denise gave me a sidelong devilish grin, winked slowly at me, and went back to mauling Sarah as they bucked against each other's fingers. I must have either passed out or fallen asleep at that point, because the next thing I recalled was Denise kissing me in my ear and telling me that we should be heading to an upstairs bedroom. According to my wife, not long after I had passed out, Sarah's husband found them and pulled her away, but not before Denise had come hard under Sarah's ministrations.
The next morning was pretty quiet as we drove home. In fact, except as a prelude to sex, we never mentioned the encounter. I considered myself lucky though. Most guys never get to experience a threesome of any sort, and, true, it wasn't the exact circumstance I would have chosen, it was still without a doubt the most erotic experience we had as a couple.
Though we had, in a way, experienced one of my fantasies, the only other fantasy I had ever shared with Denise had not yet come true. I've always been something of a secret exhibitionist. My favorite fantasy has always been to be able to have a night at our house where my wife and various other women, depending on the scenario I create, walk around completely nude for the entire evening. I am nude as well, and I'm able to simply walk over and fuck any one of them whenever the mood strikes me.
When we were first married, I was reluctant to tell Denise of this, since I assumed she would think I either had some kind of domination complex or was looking to cheat on her. But after some prompting, I did tell her, and she actually found the idea kind of sexy. Something about the freedom of the situation and the surprise of being taken and used unexpectedly appealed to her. In fact, some of the best sex we'd ever had came after we lay in bed describing elaborate scenarios to each other where we'd simply roam around entirely nude, taking and being taken by whomsoever interested us at that moment.
It was with this in mind that I entered the cabin. It was a fairly simple affair - only a back bedroom and bathroom, a living room with a fireplace and a combined kitchen and dining room. The best feature was the wraparound deck that looked out on the pond. Everything had the typical "second-house" feel to it. The furniture was well-used but comfortable, and I felt completely at home.
I headed to the bathroom to shower and shave. As difficult as it was, I resolved not to touch myself in anticipation of what my wife had in store for me. I got ready quickly, and when I emerged from the shower, I looked at the pile of clothes on the floor and laughed a little, thinking of how they had become superfluous for the next twenty-four hours.
As I headed out to find Denise, I caught a glimpse of myself in the full-length mirror in the bedroom. I stopped and regarded my nude form for just a second. Despite being happily married, I had been able to avoid the "chubby-hubby" look by working out regularly. Granted, I didn't have the six-pack I had when I was in college, but even into my thirties I hadn't let the love handles get out of control. I was also eternally grateful that, unlike some of my friends, my hair hadn't retreated yet. Then I laughed again, thinking how odd it was to be giving myself a once-over before I showed up to meet the woman I had been married to for nearly a decade. Still, I wanted to look good for her, considering how much trouble she had gone to in engineering this weekend.
I found the basement door and began to walk down into the semi-darkness.
"Hon?" Denise called from the patio outside the basement doors.
