Fashionable Fantasy

What Happens When Rubber Meets the Road with a Common Fantasy?

While this is my own work, the original 'seed' of the idea was from sirhugs, who gave his permission for someone to do the story. I accepted the challenge.

It's a bit rushed, but I hope you like it. If it proves to be popular, I may continue the story.

-----

"Does it really matter?"

The words hung in the air; their presence palpable.

I had just accused my wife of cheating, and she asked if it mattered!

I could only stand there; slack-jawed and stunned speechless. But as the moments of strained silence slipped by, as the initial shock began to wear off, I realized my cock was stiffening!

Tara had apparently not yet noticed as she faced me with a challenging posture. She seemed unabashed, even defiant in the face of the accusation. Her retort was but confirmation to my ears of what my eyes saw. Her hair was tousled, her lipstick slightly smudge at one corner of her mouth, and the buttons of her short, light sundress were misaligned. Add the smug I've-just-been-well-fucked look in her eyes and the set of her mouth, and there was little doubt; my wife had had sex with another man, and loved it.

I was furious that she had cheated on me. That she was being such an uncaring, callous bitch about it was almost too much to take.

Yet she looked so fucking hot right now. Her sexuality was screaming at me, making my skin grow hot, my pulse race, and my cock go painfully hard. She was my wife. Mine! I could have her, and I wanted her now; needed her.

My mind was in turmoil; yes, I had fantasized about her with another man. Sucking his cock, letting him fuck her. But always with me there, watching, directing. Controlling her -- ah, just the thought sent powerful thrills through my body as I pictured my cute, petite wife opening herself for a stranger just because I told her to. My hands were shaking, and my cock was throbbing, painfully restricted in my pants.

Tara again spoke into the silence. "You've been hinting for years how you would like to see me with another man, watch me suck his cock..."

I finally found my voice, "Yeah, with me there!" I threw back at her, noting how raw my voice sounded.

"Well, you can't have everything." She was being belligerent, but she looked down at that moment, and saw my reaction, plainly straining at my crotch.

A complex change of expression passed briefly across her pretty face, which she tried to cover by brushing a long lock of light brown, nearly blonde hair behind her ear. It wasn't lust, or anger, or shame. What had I seen?

Hope?

Then she schooled her expression, went blank as she stepped towards me and knelt, her hands rapidly fumbling at my belt. Opening my pants she quickly slid her hand inside my boxers, grabbed my heated cock and freed it from its prison. She immediately swallowed it as far as she could, then began a frantic sucking and jerking action.

In just a few seconds I felt myself on the verge of exploding, but somehow I was able to pull away, stop my ejaculation. I was barely able to stand, and staggered just a few steps back from her with my glistening cock waving wetly in the air. It took more moments of intense concentration to control myself, though several large pearls of precum escaped to dangle viscously from my cut knob.

"I was supposed to be there!" I gasped, having difficulty speaking. "Tell me everything. Now!"

"Doug, I..."

"TELL ME," I shouted at her.

She didn't like being ordered, or yelled at, and she became angry. Hands on her hips, she slowly began taking short, stiff steps towards me.

"I met him in a coffee shop," she began, with her chin thrust out as if daring me to hit her. "He was ogling me. I smiled at him and asked him if he liked what he saw. He said 'yes'. I asked him what he intended to do about it."

I was pretty sure it didn't go down exactly like that. Tara was being obstinate, deliberately crass about it. Her attitude was really pissing me off. It was doing something else to me too. I could hardly breath, and I could hardly hear her over the violent rush of my blood through my body.

"He took my hand and dragged me roughly outside," she continued, now standing right in front of me, one hip cocked with her arms folded under her modest, firm breasts. I noticed her nipples, like twin pencil erasers, were trying hard to pierce the material of her dress. I wanted to touch them, bite them.

Maybe hurt them.

"He made me stand in front of him, in a dirty alley, only a hundred feet from a busy street, and completely unbutton my sundress." She paused and smirked at me before continuing. "I forgot to wear my underwear today. He made me hold my dress open. Made me stand naked, in broad daylight, in that filthy alley while he looked me over like a painting he might buy."

Her face was becoming lustful. I would never have called Tara a prude, but to see her getting aroused by the story, by what she had done, was a revelation to me. And it was making me feel hotter; my whole body was shaking with desire; and anger.

"Then he ordered me to squat in front of him with my knees wide apart. I had to deep throat him while I played with myself." She licked her lips after saying that. Who was this stranger standing in front of me?

"He stopped me right before he came. He made me move to the other side of the alley. There was an old gas tank against the wall, and he told me to drop my dress and lean backwards over the tank. Mmm, he had me naked now, bent backwards with my pussy pushed forward. A smelly dumpster protected us a little from view from the street, so I didn't expect to be interrupted."

Her words painted a vivid picture in my mind. The fantasy come true warring in my mind between outrage and mind-blowing arousal.

"When he stepped close to me, I willingly opened my legs wide for him. He was long and thick, but I wanted him so badly, I was so wet, he slid straight into me."

My breathing was ragged. I couldn't decide whether to stop her, or hunger for the rest. My cock was still quivering, waving freely in the air between us, still so hard it hurt. Then Tara stepped right up against me, grasped my cock in her hand, put her face inches from mine.

Looking up at me, she quietly said, "I let him fuck me bareback."

I tried to inhale, but only three, short, shuddering breaths could I manage before my throat constricted too far.

Tara rose up on her toes, moved her luscious mouth close to my ear, and in a silky whisper concluded, " I came on his dick. I came for him as I felt his cum squirt inside me."

My world froze for an instant. I couldn't decide whether to fuck her or fight her.

So I did both.

With an inarticulate growl I grabbed her upper arms and lifted her almost completely clear of the floor. She yelped with real fear. I swung her around, trading places as I slammed her, a little too hard maybe, against the wall. I smashed my mouth against hers, forcing my tongue inside even as I mashed the full length of my body against hers.

I kept her pinned for several seconds till I felt her start to move, to respond. She started to kiss me back with a hunger that nearly matched my own. I stepped back from her, grabbed the front of her sundress, and tore it open in a single sharp motion. She was indeed naked underneath. I roughly pushed it off her shoulders and whipped it off her arms.

Again, I slammed against her body, pinning her to the wall, but this time my cock was pressed against her naked belly, and hers arms were free to grab at me, her nails scratching my back as we each tried to consume the other.

With a strength I didn't know she had, and an animal growl that was a match for my own, she pushed my chest far enough away to get a grip on my shirt and pop all my buttons in rapid succession. I finished the task by throwing it off my shoulders and ripping it from my arms in frantic haste. Again I pressed myself against her with a hungry kiss, this time relishing the feel of her bared breasts crushed to my chest, her hard nipples trapped against the ridges of my muscles.

She was whimpering and gasping. Her hands flew to my ass, grabbing my cheeks painfully as she rose up on tip toes, trying to get high enough to impale herself on my cock. I moved suddenly to one side and thrust my hand rudely into her pussy. She was sopping wet, and strangely slick. A second later, the ammonia scent of cum assailed my nostrils. A stranger's cum.

I pulled my fingers free and looked at my hand. There plainly was the whitish goo diluted by my wife's juices, hanging in strings between my fingers. I raised my hand and showed it to her, the strong smell of his essence mixed with hers a pungent message of betrayal, debauchery, lust.

Fantasy.

Tara looked at my fingers, her mouth still open and gasping from our kissing, our need. She knew what she was looking at, but when she met my gaze, there was no anger, no defiance. Only lust and... And... Submission?

On impulse, I took a large handful of her hair in my free fist, titled her head back, and thrust my cum-drenched hand to her mouth. Without hesitation she opened for me, then closed her lips around my fingers as her tongue swirled energetically around my fingers.

I saw her throat work as she swallowed. A strange man's cum was running down inside her, into her stomach. Was even now leaking from her wet sex. I was flushed with anger. I was overwhelmed with lust.

I pushed her roughly down to the floor and fell on her, almost spearing her in that same motion with my over-hard rod. I raised up slightly, and easily found her hole; she was so wet, so spread open, I slipped into her to the hilt in one aggressive thrust. She immediately began thrusting back against me, with an urgency and intensity I had never experienced from her before. Her nails were again at my back digging painfully; another thing she had always managed to control in the past.

I didn't care. I was not careful about my weight, and I crushed her beneath me, wrapping one arm around her head, pressing down on her body to keep her from slipping away from my rampaging cock. She was having some trouble breathing, yet refused to yield her tight grip on my back, pulling me down to her.

It wasn't even a minute, and she was screaming incoherently as she started to tense up. How I lasted beyond 10 seconds, I don't know, and I was glad to have held back this long. But that was it. As Tara began building, I couldn't hold it, didn't want to. My growl turned into a shout as I came, hammering at my wife's sex as hard and fast as I could, unable to get enough, wanting to be deeper, wanting more. It was the final push she needed as her body locked up with her back arched, her pussy clamped on my pumping cock, and her scream alerting half the neighborhood.

-----

Doug's reaction really surprised me. I mean, I figured he'd be mad, and we'd fight. And honestly, I was scared what might come of it. I love him, and I didn't want to lose him. I wasn't scared about what he might do except that he would no longer love me.

Well, I was a little scared, I admit. But dammit, the way he threw it all at me, like I as some cheap whore or stupid, naive girl. It was his fantasy, dammit! Okay, I admit I knew he didn't want it to go down like this; he wanted to be there, for my safety and for his excitement. I get it. I just... didn't really know if I could do it with him watching. Does that sound stupid?

Anyway, I went home deliberately leaving all the signs plainly evident. I did not consider what I had done as cheating. He really did want me to do this, and well, he'd just have to get over the fact that, the first time at least, I needed to do my way, on my own. Next time, if there ever is a next time, we'll talk about it. I had no intention of hiding it from him. This really was my way of trying to give him what he had made pretty clear he wanted. I had no interest in this for myself. I mean I liked it, I enjoyed it, but I'd never do it except that he wanted it.

So there we were in a kind of stand off. Like I said, he just started off on the wrong foot, and got my back up, so instead of the presentation I had rehearsed all the way home, instead I found myself throwing it back in his face.

"Does it really matter?" What? What was I thinking? NOT what I had planned at all. But he was being, well, shit. Childish.

Now I was worried my greatest fear was coming true. This was going downhill fast, but I couldn't seem to stop it. I kept baiting him with my answers and attitude.

Then I noticed he had a hardon. Oh...my...god! He was angry, but also very aroused. Shit, he looked like he was going to bust out of his pants. Maybe this was a path I could follow to get us back on track, to avert this disaster.

That was my hope when I decided to give it a shot. I moved to give him a head job, and I worked quickly, thinking this would relive his stress, everyone would calm down, and we could talk this through. Then, just when I thought he was going to cum, he pulled away. I tried to talk to him, but he only wanted to hear the details of my encounter.

I fought to stay civil, but the way he ordered me to speak, as if he had any fucking right to be like this, pissed me off to the core. So I relapsed, and started taunting him with the details, deliberately making it as dirty as I could; cheap and nasty. Part of me was screaming at myself to shut the fuck up, but I was too mad to listen to my own good advice.

Actually, I wasn't really lying about any of it; well, except for the very start, how I got to talking to the guy, but the basics of the story were true. I just left out all the civilized parts that took the edge off the raunchiness of the story I fed my husband. That said, the actual event was still pretty hot in a dirty way.

-----

Doug had been hinting about adding a guy into the mix for a long time. It was nothing new, but for a long time I just figured it was one of his fantasies, not really something he wanted to do. I know this is not uncommon amongst men, but I also thought the reality would not be something they'd want to face. Most guys seem real funny about another man's cum in the pussy they consider 'theirs'. They seem very possessive about such things, which is fine by me. I had no desire to bed other men, likewise, while I didn't get all bent out of shape if my husband worked up an appetite elsewhere, I expected him to 'eat at home'.

Then, no too long ago, things changed. He became persistent about it. He made references to it all the time, and more than once made it clear he was serious, that he really would enjoy seeing me with another guy. Still doubtful, I tried putting more effort into our love-life, thinking he felt he was not getting enough or something. Then he started suggesting that the idea of being with another man was getting me hot. I tried to deny it for a while, then gave up as Doug seemed determined that I shared his fantasy.

At last, I accepted that he was serious. So I began to actually consider it. I wondered what it would be like, how I would feel afterward. How Doug would feel afterward. I was mostly worried about it damaging our relationship. After seven years and no kids (my bad) I had resigned myself to focusing on Doug and our marriage. In a way, not having to worry about pregnancy was a relief, and I felt oddly more relaxed when having sex. I didn't have to worry about the side effects of contraception, and I was determined to make the most of the cards life had dealt me.

Still, after seven years, who can keep things really intense, you know? So I admit, I found myself enjoying thinking about Doug's fantasy even before I decided it might actually happen. I would sometimes daydream about scenarios, and I soon realized that every scenario I felt comfortable with didn't begin with Doug involved. Whenever I thought about him being there the first time, I just got all embarrassed. The whole mood would vanish, and I'd decide it was just a bad idea. But when I thought about doing it first on my own terms, in a way I could feel comfortable with, then going home and telling him, well, that made me warm inside, sometimes even made me squirm, and I would imagine how I would get home and share this new thing with Doug, and how happy he'd be with this new aspect of our relationship, his fantasy brought to life.

Of course, reality and fantasy don't always mix so well. I was worried about how things would turn out, but managed to convince myself it would be okay because Doug really wanted me to do this.

So it was, late on that warm spring day, I was walking through the city wearing a rather short, pretty sun dress, and leather sandals with a two-inch heel. While waiting at a crossing for the traffic to break, I noticed a tall, older man looking at me and smiling; I smiled back at him before looking to the traffic, waiting for a gap.

I could feel him still looking, and I was feeling a little nervous when I turned to him again. He seemed startled for a moment, then laughed aloud.

"I am sorry, I was staring, I'm sorry. You just, look so lovely." He seemed to embarrass himself, and rushed to correct it. "I mean, the sun was on your face just right, and your hair, which smells like spring by the way, was gently moving in the breeze, it was rather intoxicating, actually."

His eyes traveled over my body and back to my face. I felt a warm flush, partly at the boldness of his appraisal, but partly at the honest compliments he had just paid me. And, he was pretty good looking. A lot like how I guess Dug might look in twenty or so years, except maybe a little shorter, slightly heavier built, and perhaps a tad darker. Both men had black hair, though this guy had a lot of silver through his. Nice contrast to my near-blonde tresses.

"Thank you," I replied, "that is kind of you to say. A girl always appreciates flattery." Uh, did I just say that out loud? Tara, you are a dork! I blushed.

"Again, I apologize. I have made you uncomfortable." And with that he turned to walk away.

"No wait," I called after him, moving to follow, "It's not that, I'm just, well, caught off guard a little you know? Please, let me walk with you." Oh crap, was I hitting on him? A tingle downstairs said "yes", but I as thinking this guy is too polite. I didn't want this to be romantic or 'nice'. It was not supposed to involve my mind, or heart, just my body. I could only picture this as being, well, dirty. The thought, and the images that came with it, sent a stronger surge through my body, and a definite warming between my legs.

"Well, quite unexpected, but I'm hardly going to turn down the company of a beautiful woman".

"Now I know you are being a flatterer," I chided him. I as attractive, I suppose, and had a pretty good figure (no kids had that blessing, at least), but I was under no illusions about being beautiful. Cute, maybe, I thought with a smile.

So we walked for a while, talking about nothing, lightly flirtatious at times. I was wondering how to break into, well, you know, the 'indecent proposal'. Also, I was still wondering if he would even go for it. He seemed more likely to want to take me to dinner and a romantic evening in a beautiful suite. Not what I needed.

After a while, our talk was getting a bit frisky, and I curled my left hand around his arm as we walked. I saw him look down and directly at my wedding rings, then look directly in my eye, a question unspoken in his.

This was it. Now or never. I took a deep breath, and plunged gracelessly into it.

"I suspect you are wondering why a married woman would be flirting with a handsome stranger." His slight nod told me he wanted to hear the answer. I was getting very nervous now. How do you say your husband wants you to fuck a stranger? As directly as possible, I guess.