Dream Fantasy

I knew of her when I was a teenager but I first met my wife, Jackie when I was twenty-one. I was an inexperienced young man who, despite three years in the armed forces had not really discovered the delights and mysteries of the opposite sex other than a few fumbling, embarrassed and rather drunken moments at parties. Jackie was five years older than me and was recovering from an abusive marriage. Although the marriage had lasted only two years, she was pretty scarred by the experience. I later discovered that she found my innocence and inexperience appealing and to use her words, my gentleness, attentiveness and caring nature was a complete contrast to the man she had recently left. She seduced me on our first date but from the outset she made it clear that the relationship that was slowly developing was for her, nothing more than a short-term fling, exorcising painful memories and experiences. Yet almost without realising it our feelings grew stronger and stronger and after six months we decided we wanted to spend our lives together or to at least give our relationship a chance to succeed.

At first, engagement was out of the question. She was convinced that it was getting married that had turned her ex-husband into an unfeeling brute who had subsequently treated her as if she were his property. She particularly resented the fact that she had been unable to go anywhere or see anyone without his approval. She finally left when the vicious verbal abuse turned physical. However, even those deep-seated fears were eventually overcome and three years after first meeting, we were married.

By our wedding day I thought we knew all there was to know about each other. She was aware that I had had only one previous girlfriend. I knew that Jackie had lost her virginity to an older man at 17 and had become engaged to the same man soon after. Although that relationship had not survived, after a few years she had taken up with another local guy and had again became engaged and married soon after. I figured therefore, that despite the failed marriage, we were similarly experienced in respect to the opposite sex and in an odd way I felt that we were starting out married life on an even footing. We would move forward and learn the secrets of the bedroom together.

From the beginning, married sex was fantastic, although with the benefit of hindsight I can see that it was also somewhat conventional. I had no complaints and felt life was treating me well. I had a beautiful wife and a good job that unfortunately began to take me away from home on a regular basis. Although always a little downcast at my departure, my homecoming was always something to which I looked forward to with anticipation. My suitcase would hardly touch the floor before we were in bed, sometimes making love but often simply having a hard and desperate fuck.

I have always had a thing for a woman in lingerie and my wife was sometimes happy to oblige, electing on those special occasions to wear stockings with matching corset and suspenders. Without exception, this had the inevitable effect of lifting my already elevated libido to even greater heights. I know that memories of my wife lying sensuously on top of the silken sheets, wearing revealing and highly erotic underwear will stay with me all of my life, however long that may prove to be. The sex was great and we couldn't get enough of each other.

The idea of sharing my wife with another man had never entered my mind, but perhaps unusually, I do remember the very day or more correctly the very night that it did. I was staying in a very ordinary hotel in Carlisle, directly opposite the railway station. I had chosen that particular hotel simply because it was close to the rail station and on the following day I was due to catch an early morning train that would get me to my home in Plymouth around 7.00 pm.

Before turning in, I made my customary telephone call home, exchanging the news of the day with my wife and confirming that I would be arriving home the next day. My wife did not like to engage in any kind of erotic talk on the telephone but unusually she did drop some unambiguous hints about how much see was looking forward to seeing me. I went to sleep with thoughts of my wife and anticipating our impending reunion the following day.

I do not know why this night was different than any other, but I awoke just after midnight with a raging erection and a vivid memory of a dream in which I had witnessed my wife being thoroughly fucked by another man. I remembered the scene as if it had just been played out in front of me, which I suppose in many respects it had. In the dream, I had been standing no more than a few feet away from a low couch, unable to move or speak; a mute but interested witness. My darling wife was laying on her back on the couch, with her legs spread impossibly wide and straight, not even a hint of a flex in her knees. She was wearing the same underwear she had worn the last time we had made love; black lacy stockings and suspenders, along with a pair of stiletto sandals that always made her legs look long and sensual. The only addition to the ensemble that I did not recognise was a pair of black evening gloves that reached well above her elbows. Her satin-clad hands were clasped behind her head, the effect of which was to thrust her full breasts towards her lover, looking as if she was inviting a caress. I had never seen her nipples so hard and distended.

Positioned in the missionary position between her legs was a man I recognised as a casual acquaintance from work. I knew nothing about him except that his name was Brandon. As I watched, he was clearly nearing his climax. His hands rested gently and tenderly on Jackie's pale bare shoulders, holding her down on the couch with a mixture of strength and weight. I watched as he threw back his head and arched his muscular back to an almost impossible degree as if trying to thrust his cock even deeper into my wife's receptive vagina. He let out a satisfied growl and at that moment he began filling my wife with his fertile semen.

The blissful look on her face, as he repeatedly pumped his hard cock inside her soft and yielding pussy was unforgettable. As she reached her own intense orgasm, Brandon removed his hands from her shoulders allowing her to lift her head slightly so that she was able to suckle on her lover's nipples; she seemed determined to satisfy the young man's passion and would stop at nothing in order to do so. The feel of her hot mouth on his sensitive areola took him to new heights, intensifying an already mind blowing experience. As his climax slowly subsided all movement on the couch ceased. The only noise was that of my wife's tongue flicking across his nipples with an occasional obscene slurping noise as she tried to suck it deep into her hungry mouth. In slow motion, he eased himself off my wife, and she reluctantly allowed his nipple to slip from her mouth. I noticed that it was shiny with her saliva and fully erect, glistening in the light of a small table lamp, the only source of illumination in the room. As his cock slipped from her stretched and slick pussy, I was mesmerized at its immense size and girth.

My wife looked up longingly at a cock that was considerably bigger than my own feeble offering, and it broke my heart when he eased his hips towards her face and I saw my wife purse her lips and plant a wet kiss on the purple head. The intimate act produced an appreciative grunt from her partner. Pleased with his reaction she stuck out her little, pink tongue to lick around the mushroom shaped head. This was the same mouth and tongue that I had lovingly kissed and sucked on so many times, now smothered in another man's semen.

My wife hated the taste of semen, yet here she was sucking and licking at the thick, viscous fluid on his cock as if it was nectar. I thought my pain could not get any worse until I saw her open her mouth wide to allow his still rock hard cock to ease irresistibly into her throat. It continued without pausing in its invasion of my wife's throat until his plum-like balls were resting on her chin. With that final act of betrayal, he seemed satisfied and looked towards me with an arrogant smirk. She had demonstrated her adoration of his penis and she had willingly and enthusiastically degraded herself in front of her husband.

His superiority proven, without ceremony he pulled his cock from her body and lifted himself free of her. I again marvelled at his size and wondered at how my wife could accommodate such a monster either in her pussy or her mouth.

Frighteningly, it still appeared engorged and ready for more action. However, this time he reached for his trousers pulling them on in one easy movement. As he turned to leave, he casually thanked her and told her that her husband was a lucky man. He gave me a disdainful glance as he left.

The look on my wife's face had remained the same as it had during their lovemaking. She looked totally satisfied and serene and with a sense of anguish I realised I had not seen that look before. I had never satisfied her in such a way. She seemed in no hurry to move as if challenging me to react as any husband should when he discovered his wife in such a compromising situation. I remained frozen to the spot and as so often happens in dreams, I was unable to speak or move my limbs, despite a desperate desire to do so.

Jackie's legs remained spread and I saw that the rather sparse hair on her pubis was matted flat and slick with an unlikely amount of semen. If this was the amount of cum that he had deposited on her as he pulled out, then how much had he pumped inside her? Languidly, she removed the glove on her left hand and having done so allowed her fingers to explore the sticky mess between her legs, relishing the way it clung to her fingers, at times making them look as if they were webbed with a delicate, translucent film. She looked up at me for the first time, her expression suggesting that this was the most natural of situations. She showed me her semen-coated wedding ring and it was when she looked at me and started to raise her fingers to her mouth that I awoke.

So it was that I found myself sitting bolt upright in my bed, bedding thrown back and my wide eyes staring into the dimly lit hotel room. I was immediately aware of my erection. Such was the extent of my arousal I could feel the throbbing pulse in my painfully erect cock. I had never seen the head of my cock so taut and shiny or my shaft so thick and engorged. My stomach had twisted into a knot and my heart was pounding in my chest as I recalled every detail of my wife and lovers imaginary tryst. Unable to stop myself, I curled my fingers around my cock and began to masturbate. It took just seconds before the first powerful spurts of semen were projected over my head and splashed against the wall, landing there with a dull thud. Subsequent spasms were less powerful, but even they were still strong enough to shower my face and chest with thick and pungent strings. I could not recall ever having had such an intense orgasm.

As I began to recover, my mind was in turmoil and the knotted sensation in my stomach persisted. I was convinced that my wife had indeed been unfaithful and this was not merely some random dream. Similarly, the feeling of intense jealousy that I had experienced while watching my faithless wife would not subside. I was fully awake and I told myself repeatedly not to be stupid. Intellectually I knew this to be of no significance and yet somewhere deep inside I suspected that this would prove to be a life changing experience.

Eventually I drifted back into a deep, dreamless sleep and woke the following morning feeling refreshed but still with a deep sense of unease. The memories of the night were as vivid as ever and it took all of my will power not to seek immediate relief from my obvious arousal.

I went to breakfast as planned and arrived at the railway station in plenty of time to catch my train. Throughout the journey I was unable to read my book. I was confused and unsure of what to do about this newly discovered and unexpected erotic revelation. In truth, I knew I was a jealous man when it came to my wife and the idea of meekly standing by while watching my wife fuck another man was ludicrous and yet each time I thought of it my stomach flipped over. Clearly, Jackie would be oblivious to the dream sequence and no doubt would greet me as she had always done. Such was the extent of my disquiet I was even concerned about how I would react to her. It was if, for the moment, I could not differentiate between dream and reality.

As it turned out there was no need for concern. My wife was waiting for me, co-incidentally and disturbingly wearing the black lingerie of the dream. I was almost relieved to see that she had not added evening gloves to her wardrobe. As I made love to her, images of her legs invitingly spread apart for Brandon kept coming unbidden into my mind and I could not deny that the effect was explosive. Although I did not know it at the time, those images would persist for many years and fuelled a fantasy that from that day forward, provided me with erotic material on which my imagination could draw during the long and lonely nights away from home. Equally, the memory of my almost perfect hotel room orgasm remained and though I constantly strove to recapture its force and intensity, it eluded me for some time.

That is how the idea of me being turned on by thinking of my wife in the arms of another man arose. That was twenty-five years ago and in the intervening years the story developed in stages, little by little; piece by piece.

At first, I was content with keeping this clandestine and I felt, shameful fantasy, to myself. I could not understand my feelings, but there was no denying the fact that when I thought of my wife with another man, the butterflies and knotted stomach would return along with an erection more appropriate to a man half my age. A lack of understanding that is, until I came across the Literotica web site some years later. Until then I had no idea my fantasy was common enough to warrant its very own section on the index page and I eagerly read the stories about faithless wives and cuckolded husbands.

The realisation that at least I was not the only husband to have such perverted thoughts regarding their wife, was a comfort and served to ease my guilt. However, even with this knowledge, I was still inclined to suppress my thoughts and told myself that broaching the subject with Jackie could cause irreparable damage to our marriage. I certainly had no thoughts of trying to act out the fantasy, as I was confident that I would be unable to handle such a situation.

With this new understanding, I was content to maintain the status quo. I even made a pact with myself to never confess my secret desires to my wife. However, unexpectedly, it was Jackie who caused the whole issue to surface once again.

It happened one afternoon. Jackie and I had just finished making love and were engaged in some light-hearted pillow talk, reminiscing about the circumstances of how we had originally got together. In all innocence, I said that I thought the fact that we had both been relatively inexperienced when we first met had been a good starting point and that it had helped us to become the couple that we now were. Her reply stunned me: " I wouldn't be so sure about that." She suggested.

From nowhere an overwhelming sense of panic descended on me and I struggled to maintain an outward display of calm. I knew Jackie well enough to know that if I reacted badly she would clam up and I would never hear what she may be about to confess. I waited with my heart pounding and struggling for breath, determined to give her the opportunity to continue, hopefully in an uninhibited and honest fashion. She watched me closely obviously trying to assess my reaction. Apparently satisfied with what she saw she continued;

"There is something I need to tell you." Another pause, but this one lasted what seemed like an eternity. "I have wanted to tell you for years but could never bring myself to do it; I told you that I had been with just two men before we met, but there was more than two."

Panic threatened to overcome me. It rose like bile in my stomach and up into my throat, which tightened in anticipation and fear of what I feared I was about to hear. I thought I would be unable to speak but somehow managed to croak a weak and very predictable question;

"How many, then?"

Now it was she who appeared nervous. Despite my best effort she had sensed my unease and I saw regret flash across her face, replaced almost immediately by a look of steely determination. I had seen this look before. I knew now that she would continue with her revelation, but to what extent she would now modify her announcement would be difficult to judge.

"I'm not sure, a few, it was a long time ago, perhaps ten maybe twelve".

My wife had been twenty-six when we met; she had lost her virginity when she was 17. Without thinking, I could not help but do the calculations in my head. That was less than one man every 8 months. Best to ignore the two years she was married as it complicated things too much. Hardly a slutty tart then, but neither was she the inexperienced woman I thought she had been.

Why then did my world feel like it was collapsing around me? Was my ego really so fragile? This was a rather unremarkable confession about events that had taken place over twenty years ago. She was my loving wife and the mother of our child. Inexplicably and to my disgust, my fragile control crumbled, I buried my face in my hands and felt my shoulders slump. My usual confident manner evaporated and was gone in an instant. Instinctively I knew why. I had always felt that Jackie was in a different league to me. She was indeed a beautiful woman, petite with a slender and desirable figure. Some might say she was too good for me and this revelation in some way proved it.

I understood even then that this was irrational, but as a youth, I had considered her as part of a relatively prominent group of people, well known in our small village community. A group of people who I had regarded as mature adults, businessmen and women, professionals, including doctors and chemists, when I was still a spotty adolescent, little more than a child. By the time we had formed a relationship the age difference was irrelevant but the psychological damage had been inflicted before our relationship had even commenced and I had not even been aware of it. She had moved in circles to which I felt I was not welcome. The fact that she had moved out of those circles to allow me to court her had always surprised me but equally had given me a sense of satisfaction that for some inexplicable reason, I thought to be ephemeral and transient.

All this flashed through my mind in an instant. My immediate reaction was to demand details. What kind of relationships had she had? Exactly how many different men had she had, was it ten or twelve? Was it just sex? Did she love any of them? Which was better, casual sex or a loving relationship that she had kept hidden? How quickly had she entered into a sexual relationship? She had virtually seduced me on the first date so did she do the same with these other men? Did she give them blowjobs before intercourse? Did she swallow their semen when she refused to do so with me? Moreover, perhaps the most important question of all, why was her past so important to me?

My thoughts became crude and I tortured myself with imagined details. There were too many questions but I could not help myself. She tried to answer honestly and candidly but she soon saw that she could never satisfy my aggressive curiosity and the more she tried to answer with simple details the more upset I was getting.