If it hadn't happened to me and having the CD of most of that night's events recorded with my camcorder, I would have said it had all been a dream. My wife Savannah denied it then and denies to this day that she had anything to do with the fateful night in the ski chalet we'd rented with a couple of her girlfriends that helped complete her transformation from a prude to the sexually adventurous woman of my dreams that I'd begun to think wasn't even within her.
Our sex life had become predictable and routine; once during the week usually on Tuesday and once each on Saturday and Sunday with missionary being our primary position and, very rarely, doggie. She wasn't very vocal, didn't push up to meet me when I plunged down into her, and after we both came; acted like she was embarrassed that she'd enjoyed the orgasm I'd given her while I was fucking her.
I had tried to get her to open up a little and try new things, new positions, role playing, and every other thing I could think of to bring the spark back into our sex life and hopefully stop the slide we both had begun thinking to ourselves we were in but never told each other about. She had resisted, acted shocked and hurt, or flat out refused every suggestion, attempt, or plea I'd had or action I tried to do.
Even though I loved her and it was hurting me emotionally having the thought at all, I was almost to the point of throwing in the towel and asking for a divorce. Luckily or maybe from pure desperation on my part, I started talking to her during one of our Saturday love making sessions, telling her how I'd been dreaming about her making love to another woman while I watched and then joining her in pleasuring her female lover long into the night.
I hadn't expected the response I got as I thrust into her wet pussy while telling her in great detail how the two of them gave each other multiple orgasms while kissing, caressing, and eventually eating each other's pussies in 69 position. Savannah was a totally different person during our love making that day than the one I was used to. She moaned louder, thrust up to meet me, and acted happy about the two orgasms she'd had instead of the one she normally had.
It took some coaxing on my part, but I got her to tell me why she'd reacted the way she had and she finally admitted she'd been having a similar dream except that I was the one making love to the other woman and she was watching. That had been four months ago and we had begun telling each other the other fantasies we had. We both picked up on the fact that her fantasies of me and another man fucking her, even though it turned her on immensely, had a negative effect on me.
I would lose my erection immediately at the mention of another man kissing her, touching her, and had even become physically ill the one time she'd continued to tell me about had big her fantasy orgasm had been when her male lover filled her pussy with his hot load while fucking her bareback. I had barely made it to the commode before I tossed my cookies from the mental image of her coming for another man and him coming in her pussy. She stopped telling me about any fantasies she had that involved another man, but would beg for me to tell her the many scenarios that my fantasy of her and another woman together had manifested into after we'd begun talking about it.
Don't get the wrong impression, not all of my fantasies included another woman. I told her of the ones that only involved us and the sexual acts that she'd refused to do in the past. Giving and receiving oral sex from each other, fucking somewhere else in the house besides our bedroom, outdoor sex, sex in the shower, and anal were all other fantasies I shared with her. None of them turned her on as much as the one of her or me with another woman. We began fulfilling some of the ones with only the two of us involved and our sex life improved even beyond the level it had been when we were dating and then newlyweds and couldn't seem to keep from ending up fucking any time we were together, alone, and had time to fuck even if it was a quickie because it was so new to both of us.
She was Savannah Gold when we met and my name's Michael Hartman. I was a twenty two year old recently graduated electrical engineer in my first job and she was the twenty year old daughter of the neighbors that lived next door to my supervisor and new friend Justin Craft and his wife Wendy and we were all at the end of summer barbeque that Justin and Wendy had every year. They were ten years older than me and had, despite the fact he was my boss, adopted me into their family when they found out I was far away from home and without friends or family close enough to help me with the transition from care free college student to working class stiff on his own for the first time if you didn't count college, which I didn't.
Being short (5'8"), stocky in build, with a baby face that made me look several years younger than my classmates all through middle school, high school, and beyond coupled with a fear of girls during those years; I hadn't had much experience with girls or women. I never did have a steady girlfriend and only a handful of not very successful dates up to that time in my live. I had not lost my virginity until I was twenty one and it had not been the best experience for either the girl or me. The second time we had sex was better and I did get her off when I ate her pussy before fucking her, but she went back to her old high school sweetheart a couple of weeks after that particular event and I never saw or spoke to her again.
Savannah was an average looking girl and definitely not a raging beauty, but I still couldn't keep my eyes off of her after her arrival that day. She was slightly shorter than me with short brown hair, green eyes, a button nose, full lips, a stocky build similar to mine, and the feature that kept my eyes searching for her whenever she moved out of my sight, those big breasts that stood up and out on her chest.
She acted shy and unsure of herself much like I did and if it hadn't been for Wendy; we never would have talked to each other. Wendy must have seen the way I was looking at Savannah and, in a roundabout way, steered Savannah over to where I was sipping on an iced tea and introduced us. After the first few awkward minutes, Savannah and I both relaxed and began talking to each other like we'd known each other for a long time and not like we'd only been introduced to each other moments earlier. Neither of us noticed when Wendy slipped away leaving us alone together.
I enjoyed the rest of the afternoon talking to Savannah, but when she said she had to leave before the barbeque was over, I reverted back to my old fearful self and let her walk away without getting her phone number or asking her about the possibility of us going on a date. If Justin hadn't given me the encouragement to call her house and ask her out, we'd never went on that first date and eventually fallen in love.
That had been eight years ago and we'd been fairly happy for most of those eight. I hadn't found out about her many hang-ups when it came to sex until after we were married. While we were dating and because neither of us was very experienced, everything we did sexually was new and exciting. The fact that Savannah wasn't good when it came to oral sex didn't cause me any problems because I wasn't that good at it either at first. Everything that would later become major issues in our marriage when it came to sex didn't matter in those days of courtship and our early married years.
When I started trying to introduce new things into our sex life was when the problems began. I found out that Savannah's very religious and divorced mom had preached to her that sex was dirty and a wife wasn't supposed to enjoy it but had to let her husband have it to keep him happy. Everything other than missionary was perverted and not to be indulged in. The only place you could have sex was in the martial bed, with the lights off, and most of your clothes still on.
She explained to me that the reason we had pre-marital sex was because she was rebelling, consciously or not, against her mother's control on her. I was the one that insisted we leave the light on. I wanted to see her, to me, beautiful body.
I was the one that stripped us both naked so I could touch and kiss as much of her body as I could. I was the one that practiced on his oral techniques to the point that I could always give her an orgasm with my mouth.
Savannah wasn't interested in doing that. Yes, she would give me blow jobs, but very rarely, and they were more like hand jobs with her mouth only close to my dick to provide saliva for lubrication. She didn't try to get better no matter how much I encouraged her, complained to her, or anything else I tried.
I talked to her, pleaded with her, bought and read the "Joy of Sex" to her, and made (yes made) her watch porn tapes with me; but none of it changed her mind about sex. I loved her so much and had gotten so tired from trying to change her that I quit trying and lived with the way our sex life was. Our life together proceeded on in that routine I'd mentioned earlier and to the point that my frustration and unhappiness were greater than my love for Savannah and I was ready to walk away from it like I've already mentioned.
The sharing of our fantasies had opened up Savannah's mind to the idea that sex was not dirty and was meant to be enjoyed and that when you were doing it with and for someone you loved it was actually pretty fantastic. What happened on our first ski trip of the season removed whatever remnants of that prudish attitude that she'd had previously completely.
We had taken our one week vacation to go skiing with two of Savannah's girlfriends who were sharing the ski chalet and its cost with us. It was a six day five night package that Savannah had found online. The ski resort had ten trails from beginner to expert and fifty inches of mostly man-made snow on them. It was the second week of January and it had started out like it was going to be a perfect vacation until the accident that may or may not have precipitated the events that happened after it.
It would have been one of the oldest clichés in the book except for one thing, I broke my leg tripping over my own feet and falling down the stairs coming back down them after helping Lori Beth and Lisa, the two girlfriends of Savannah's mentioned earlier, carry their suitcases to the upstairs bedroom where the two full sized beds were located in the second bedroom of the two bedroom chalet and not out on the slopes.
I spent that night in the local hospital and Savannah spent it there with me in an easy chair that reclined and in which she slept. Having practice with crutches from multiple sprains and the other leg being broken during practice when I was on the middle school football team, I was allowed to leave the hospital after the one night stay. My right leg was in a cast from mid-thigh down to mid-calf so my skiing fun was over before it even started.
Savannah helped me get comfortable in the king sized bed that we had gotten on the first floor and stayed in the chalet with me that second day while Lori Beth and Lisa enjoyed themselves skiing. On the third day I assured Savannah I'd be all right and that she should go with her friends out onto the slopes. I went back and forth from the couch in the living area to our bed while they were skiing. I could see and hear the joy and happiness that the three of them must have experienced together out on the slopes, but got a little anxious from what I overheard them saying when they thought I was asleep as they came in.
"Those three guys we met were hunks. Too bad you're married and Mike's here. We could all three be getting our brains fucked out right now by them." I heard Lori Beth telling her two friends excitedly.
