FROM FANTASY TO REALITY
(or How a ClichΓ© Changed Our Lives)
I'd never even heard of a sex cub: I had no idea that such a thing could even exist. So when my wife came home from her regular massage and told me that her masseuse was divorcing her husband because he had been visiting one regularly--without her--I was blown away by the idea. We both were. Like most couples we had sometimes fantasized about involving others in our sex life, but that was all it was: fun to think about, surely impossible in the real world.
Of course we had both experienced one night stands during our dating life before we were married, but the idea of a place where people met with the intention of doing that seemed incredible. We had been to nude beaches and enjoyed looking at the tanned bodies, and, if we were being honest, liked being looked at naked. In our early 40s, we were in pretty good shape and still had a healthy appetite for sex and desire for each other, but after fifteen years of marriage and a couple of kids, fantasy had begun to creep into our sex life. Renting porno movies didn't do it for us: the situations were so fake, and we found the close ups of human plumbing the opposite of exciting. Our imaginations turned out to be infinitely better.
I have to admit that the fantasizing had started with me. I loved looking at her naked so much that it seemed natural to imagine other men enjoying it as much as I did: it became exciting for me. It soon seemed equally natural to imagine men acting on that attraction while I watched. I later found out that this is a very common fantasy of husbands--in fact, probably the most popular--but at the time it felt edgy and to be honest, weirded me out a bit. Did I really want someone else to touch my wife? Would I love it or hate it if it actually happened? Would I be turned on or devoured by the Green Monster?
It took a while for me to confess my fantasies to Jane, but one evening, when the kids were in bed and after a couple of glasses of wine, we recognised that glint in each other's eyes, turned off the TV and headed upstairs. I undressed her slowly and sensuously, kissing the newly revealed skin, and then stepped back to admire the view. She looked stunning in the candlelight, and I found my imagination kicking into overdrive. I don't know whether it was the look on my face, or the synchronicity that couples develop where they can sometimes read each other's minds, but somehow Jane knew that a picture was developing in my mind.
She said, with an intrigued grin, "you're having wicked thoughts, aren't you?"
For a split second I considered trying to deny it with something gallant like 'how could I be thinking about anything else when you're naked front of me?' Instead, I decided to be honest. That decision changed our lives.
"Yes," I said, and reached out to touch her breasts. "Very wicked."
She looked deep into my eyes, the grin still on her face. "Care to share?"
I paused: this was the moment I had been both looking forward to and shying away from. I was about to confess that I was imagining another man caressing her breasts, and more, that she was enjoying it? Would she think it weird of me? Would she think I was accusing her of wanting to be unfaithful? There were a million bad ways this conversation could go, all of which would ruin the sexy mood that was developing. I gently caressed her right nipple with my thumb and forefinger, something which, if I timed it right, would take her to the next level of excitement.
"Do you remember when we were on the nude beach last summer?" She nodded. I had timed it right. "There was that incredibly tanned guy that kept on adjusting his towel to get closer to us so he could ogle you?" She nodded, and I tweaked again, the other nipple this time. There was an intake of breath as she closed her eyes. "I was just thinking that it might have been fun if he had come over right next to us." My hand caressed downwards on the soft skin of her stomach. She was silent for a couple of seconds.
"And?" This was it: turn back now and the moment might never come again, I thought.
I leaned forward and kissed her on the neck just at the sweet spot under her earlobe and whispered "I was thinking you would have enjoyed him doing what I am doing right now." I took both nipples between thumb and forefinger and squeezed a little harder.
"Mmmm..." Another intake of breath. "What would you be doing?"
That caught me by surprise: of the many responses I was prepared for, that wasn't one of them. She hadn't immediately angrily rejected the idea, which was good, but she hadn't told me how she felt about it. She must have known where I was going with this, but was keeping an open mind. I needed to lead her as gently as possible, allowing the picture I was describing to slowly seduce her.
"Watching, and wondering whether you liked it," I replied. Pause. "Hoping that you were."
There it was. I had just told my wife that I was fantasizing about her enjoying another man touching her intimately. I lowered my head and ran my tongue over her nipple. Her tilted back a little in pleasure, which told me she was there with me, in the imaginary situation I was creating.
"Would you like
him
to do that?" she asked.
I kissed the other while running my thumb over the first. "Would you?" I shot back.
She paused again, then whispered, almost inaudibly, "yes." I kissed her nipple again, and then she surprised me. "Would it turn you on to watch?" she asked, getting a little breathless.
I threw caution to the winds. "My God, yes!" and to demonstrate how much, I let my hand wander lower and discovered a silky wetness. "It looks like she agrees," I said with a relieved smile. I picked her up, she wrapped her legs around my back and we moved towards the bed. We made love that night as we hadn't in a while, at first hungrily, with heightened responses, and then more slowly and intimately. We fell asleep very contented.
Life got busy, and we didn't have the chance to talk about our conversation for several days. To be honest, I was a little embarrassed and was not eager to bring it up, especially as I had come to realize over the years we had been together that Jane was a 'slow burner' who needed time to process things. It must have been the next weekend over coffee that she brought up the subject again. The kids were at a play date on the other side of town: it was the first time we'd had the place to ourselves.
She sat down at the breakfast table and smiled a little shyly. "That was pretty wild the other night..." I grinned, and took a sip of coffee, but didn't say anything, not sure where she was going. "Would you really want that to happen?"
I thought about it. "I think it could be incredibly exciting," I replied.
"Have you been thinking about this for a long time?" she continued, probing.
"I don't know." I replied. "I do remember thinking that I should have been pissed with the guy on the beach ogling you so openly, but I wasn't. I was proud to be married to someone who guys like to ogle. Then I thought about all the things he probably wanted to do to you, and I realised it didn't make me angry either."
I should have expected her response: "Well of course he was thinking that. He's a guy!" We both laughed. "It's what you do."
I nodded to acknowledge the point, but she suddenly became serious.