No Turning Back

It's a dangerous thing to underestimate the power of sexual fantasy. Some people know this by instinct and treat them carefully. Others, like my wife Carol and I, had to find out the hard way. We made the fantasy a reality. And now there's no going back.

Carol is in her mid-40s. Physically, she's a cute, girl-next-door type. No supermodel, but attractive. She has a great figure packed onto her short frame – full, round breasts and a bum that nicely stretches her jeans, but with a suitably slim waist. Her legs are strong, with solid thighs and round calves.

Firm is a good word to describe her... no sagging, no stretch marks, no cellulite. Her skin is smooth and pink. Her full breasts and bum wobble just the right amount when she moves, which she does with a natural, if unintended, swagger.

She doesn't dress in a provocative way, because like many women with her build, she feels she's overweight. She doesn't have enough self-confidence to really strut. But when you see her in a snug fitting dress, high heels accenting her shapely legs... well, you want to see more.

My name's Frank. Maybe I'm the villain in this story. That's because I'm a rabid voyeur. And an exhibitionist. It's not an unusual combination, it turns out. For me, watching and being watched is like a powerful drug. Peeking into a bedroom, watching a sunbather, stealing glances at the gym... I get so excited it feels like my heart is going to burst out of my chest. I suffer shortness of breath. My cock becomes a throbbing and insistent pressure between my legs that demands attention.

When it comes to being watched... that started even before puberty. When I came home from grade school, I'd run upstairs and take off all of my clothes, then dart past windows or go naked into the basement, leaving my clothes behind in my bedroom.... all the time with my little cock as hard as a rock. I didn't know what to do with it then. That came later, when I sometimes got up late at night and sneaked into the living room. I would slowly strip, imagining that I had a small audience. I would throw my pajamas out of reach. If anyone woke up, I would be caught. The idea of being seen was very exciting. Again, my cock would be so stiff that it would only take two or three strokes before a jet of cum was arcing across the living room. My lust-induced courage would evaporate immediately, though, and I would quickly clean up my mess and race back into bed, appalled at the idea of being caught in such a humiliating act.

When I got married, not a lot changed. My wife and I had a perfectly good sex life. I enjoyed making love to her. We were a bit old fashioned, I guess. We used condoms because that's the way we were brought up. We told ourselves it was because we weren't sure about the medical effects of the pill. And we stuck to the basics when it came to technique. No weird positions, no oral sex. Instead, I got my thrills by looking for ways to peek at her. If she was getting into her bathing suit, I would lurk outside the bedroom door and peek in. I would pretend I was the next-door neighbor who had snuck through the patio door to watch. If she was in the yard sunbathing, I would stand in the shadows behind a curtain and watch her. I would slowly take off my clothes, imagining that she was watching me, or that two or three other people were my audience. I would sometimes toss my clothes into the living room so that I had no quick escape. Standing there watching her, with my hard-on throbbing, I would gyrate my hips and do a little erotic dance for my imaginary audience before quietly moaning from the power of my orgasm, semen pulsing out of my twitching cock and splashing onto the floor.

Other times I would imagine taking pictures of her in lingerie and showing them to other men, or inviting men over to watch her in the shower. Before long, I was taking these fantasies farther, imagining her willingly putting on a show for a group of men, imagining them aroused, and finally, my wife yielding to her private desires to be used by many men at once.

But we'd been married for almost 10 years before we ever talked about our sex fantasies. It was a New Year's Eve and we'd been drinking at home, just the two of us. We decided it could be fun to tell each other one of our sex fantasies. But when I had to start, I was afraid she'd be disappointed that instead of putting her on a pedestal in my dreams, I wanted to peddle her like a tramp. At first I decided to keep it tame, that I fantasized about making love to her without a condom, or that I she would take my cock in her mouth. But I decided to risk being a bit more daring. After all, this was just a little fun, and I could always say later that it was the drink talking.

So I started by telling her how beautiful and sexy she was and how it was a shame that I was the only one who could enjoy that. I think I even said something nutty like, "With all of your luscious curves, God obviously created you for one reason – to bring pleasure to men." I told her the idea of showing her off to a number of men really turned me on. I recounted one of my many fantasies in which I invited anonymous men into the house. In my fantasy, after everyone had a few drinks, she would do a slow strip tease for them, while I watched from a dark corner.

Carol seemed to be paying close attention to my story, but her expression was strangely neutral. There was no sign of anger, or that she thought my little story was ridiculous. Encouraged, and with the booze reducing my inhibitions, I said "I'm getting a hard-on right now just thinking about those guys watching you teasingly uncover your big breasts, slide down your panties and then stretch your arms to the ceiling, turning slowly so they can feast their eyes on your luscious naked body." I was really starting to get into it, but Carol was now looking down at her hands in her lap and I stopped short. I'd gone as far as I dared.

Carol continued to looked at her lap for a few more moments. I went too far after all, I thought. Then she took a deep breath and looked up at me. "You'd like other men to watch me undress for them." It was a statement, not a question. I nodded. I was about to apologize. But her expression changed. Her eyes seemed suddenly to be pleading with me. "Would you like them to touch me, too, Frank?"

The blood pounded into my head, and into my throbbing cock. Her faced was flushed, and not just from the wine we were drinking. She was clearly excited. I answered slowly, in almost a whisper. "Yes, I'd like them to touch you, too."

"And you would just watch."

"Yes," I said.

She turned her head and stared for a few moments out of the patio door into the night. She had a strange, faraway look in her eyes that I would come to recognize later. She was living some private fantasy at that moment. I asked her to tell me what she was thinking, but when she turned back to me, she kissed me with wet lips, then deeply with her tongue. It didn't take long before she was on my lap, lowering her very wet pussy onto my bone-hard erection. I somehow managed to grab a condom and roll it on with shaking fingers. With my next thrust, she came, arching her back, digging her fingers into the back of the sofa, then crying out like I'd never heard her before, her whole body rigid as the wave of pleasure broke over her.

Carol had never had an orgasm like that before. Never that fast, never that powerful. And after that night, nothing was the same in our lives again.

***

I was distracted for weeks. It was clear that my wife was very much aroused by the idea that she would strip for a group of men, even let them touch her in some way, while I watched. I couldn't think at the office and my work started to suffer. My head was filled with erotic images – my wife reaching back to undo her bra as a group of men, breathing hard, watches intently; her full breasts wobbling back and forth as they are caressed by several hands; another man's lips closing around her nipple, sucking it into his mouth; her thickening nipples springing erect, being pulled hard by strong hands—not mine – lifting her breasts up and then letting them fall back, swaying and jiggling; Carol moaning quietly. Then, an erect cock brushing her face, straining towards her. She turns and opens her mouth to take it in...

I wanted to talk to her about it, but whenever I tried, she would shush me and change the subject. When we made love, she sometimes asked me to tell her one of my fantasies. I went eagerly into every detail. She never said anything. But when I would enter her, hot and always very wet, telling her that at this point in my fantasy one of the men penetrates her – then she would seize up and cry out with a powerful, body-racking orgasm. Of course, at this point I also would erupt and thrust as deeply as I could into her. My orgasms were also stronger and lasted longer. It felt like I was pumping large amounts of semen into her.

I was tormented day and night by the intensity of her response to my fantasies, which just fuelled my fantasies further. This wasn't just an innocent game to spruce up our sex lives. After we made love, we didn't giggle about what a crazy fantasy that was, or how much fun it was. She would become very quiet, almost embarassed it seemed.

She had changed. We were talking less and less. She was hiding something deep down, and I started to have the feeling that we needed to bring it out, whatever it was, or else our marriage would be in danger. I thought it might help if she told me what she was feeling or thinking when we made love. But when I asked, she would just look away. Anyway, I knew what she was thinking and feeling. Like me, she was obsessed with the idea of being taken by many men at once, and also somehow with the idea that I would be a passive observer.

By February, I had decided that we no longer had a choice. I booked flights and hotel reservations for Carol and me in a large city in another state. I placed an ad in a swinger's magazine seeking men from that area interested in helping a husband bring pleasure to his wife. I asked them to submit a brief resume along with a photograph and phone number to a post office box, which I then had forwarded to my business address.

On a Friday evening two weeks later, Carol and I checked into the hotel. I think she knew what this unexpected trip was about but, as with everything related to our mutual obsession, she remained quiet and passive. Perhaps she was even grateful that I had finally taken the decision. It seemed clear that she was not prepared to take responsibility for what might happen.

After she went into the bathroom and started the shower, I made a few phone calls to finalize the arrangements. My hands were shaking and my voice trembled a couple of times. I was both scared and aroused. My erection threatened to burst through my pants. Then I called room service and ordered three bottles of champagne.

After I hung up, I glanced toward the bathroom. The door was slightly ajar and the water was still running. Already with a hard-on, I walked slowly to the door and looked in. The glass shower door was slightly fogged, but I could see my wife's pink skin and the curve of her ample breasts. She had her hands in her hair and shampoo was running down the side of her body and along one thigh. I unbuckled my pants and tugged them down past my swollen erection. I lifted my arms too and started to sway my hips, thrusting my aching cock towards the open door. Soon there would be other eyes roving over Carol's body, admiring her round bum and yearning to touch her silky skin. My arousal was so great, I could sense that with a couple of more thrusts of my hips I could bring myself to orgasm without touching myself. Reluctantly, I pulled my pants back up, struggled to arrange my still throbbing hard-on in my pants, and returned to the sofa. Coming now was out of the question. I needed the intoxication of lust to go through with all that I had planned.

***

We met the two men in the hotel bar. It was crowded and smoky and the music was loud. They were sitting at a corner table, each with a drink in front of him. I had received more than 30 responses to my ad and had reviewed their credentials and photos carefully. I then called five of them to hear their voices, ask them some questions, and satisfy myself that they were right for this important event. I couldn't eliminate the risk that we might attract some weirdo, but I was pretty sure that I had chosen two more or less normal men who would treat my wife appropriately.

I had suggested to my wife what she should wear, and after her shower she followed my advice without comment. She had on a blue cocktail dress made from some shiny material. It was not particularly revealing. It was cut just above her knees but clung nicely to her many curves. She'd put on matching blue heels that accentuated her round calves. She had blue thigh-highs on underneath the dress, along with blue lace panties and matching sheer bra. For some reason she wouldn't let me watch her getting dressed so I hadn't yet seen her lingerie, but my imagination assured me it would look great when we got that far. A pearl necklace and earrings topped it all off. It was elegant and sexy, not at all trashy.

As I said before, she walked with a natural and very sexy wiggle, and with the clingy and shiny material of her dress, she made an instant impact on the two men. They both stood as we approached the table and smiled as I introduced my wife. The first guy was in his mid-thirties, tall and slim, physically graceful. The second guy was older than the first, and older than Carol or me. But he looked to be in good shape. He was charming in an old-school kind of way.

We shook hands all around and I was gratified to see them look her over discreetly as the introductions were made. I particularly noticed a little spark between Number Two and my wife. Carol was gracious and smiled politely. I could see that she was nervous and, judging by the flush of color in her face, also aroused. My knees got weak for a moment as I again imagined what lay ahead. I tried to distract myself by ordering drinks for Carol and myself.

We made small talk for a few minutes, remarking on the hotel, the weather. When the drinks came, we raised our glasses. Without thinking about it, I said, "Here's to passion." The two men smiled. Carol looked down for a moment as though embarassed, and then glanced quickly at Number Two, who bowed slightly in her direction. She blushed. I felt the first pangs of jealousy as we clinked our glasses.

Number One whispered something into Carol's ear and then led her off to the dance floor. I took a long pull on my beer. Number Two leaned over and said, "You're wife is really great looking. You're a lucky man." I smiled awkwardly and mumbled a thanks. I took another long drink. I needed to calm my nerves.

I looked over to the dance floor. Number One and Carol were near the edge. I had the feeling my wife was trying to make sure that I had a good view, although that hadn't been part of our plan. The music was fast, so there wasn't much contact between them. But she looked sexy swaying to the beat in her snug dress. It was like watching a slow wave work its way up and down her body. I enjoyed watching her curves.

Number One returned to the table with Carol and was promptly replaced by Number Two. He steered her to the dance floor with a hand placed casually on her hip. It seemed like she wiggled her rear end up slightly to meet his hand. I winced at the intimacy of the moment, and realized that I had a raging erection.

Of course, it was a slow song. At first, he held her casually, at arm's length. But slowly, they moved closer together. His hand moved lower, from her hip to her bum. My heart jumped. She seemed to move slightly closer but it was dark and hard to see. They swayed together slowly in time with the music, their hips touching. She was looking down, avoiding eye contact with him. The dress clung to her firm behind, which Number Two now gently caressed, moving his fingertips lightly down the middle. My wife responded immediately, pressing her hips closer to his. She glanced quickly in the direction of our table, but looked down immediately, as if afraid to meet my eye.

The conversation at our table had pretty much died. The music was too loud, and I didn't have anything to say anyway. Number Two came back, my wife in tow. Again, she was looking down, but her face was flushed. I thought I could see the outline of erect nipples beneath her dress. I nodded to the two men, got up and headed for the lobby elevators.

When we got to the room, I poured everyone some champagne. It was a large room, with a queen-sized bed near a large window overlooking the city. There was a small sofa and a couple of arm chairs at the foot of the bed, with a television between them. The two men sat on the sofa, my wife and I on the shairs. There was also an upholstered bench near the door, almost completely hidden in shadow. We'd all had a fair bit to drink by then, and the initial nervousness had passed. Our guests were able to keep up a casual and friendly banter with us without really saying anything. But there was still plenty of sexual tension in the air. We were all waiting for something to happen. It was the point of no return... either we did it now or we called it off.

"Gentlemen," I said, "I think it's.... we'd like to... " And then I couldn't find any more words. I stood and moved behind Carol's chair. I touched her shoulder and she stood up. I reached out for the zipper on her dress, but she suddenly turned around to me and shook her head slightly. No. She pushed me gently towards the door. I thought that she had gotten cold feet and had decided to call it off. But then she walked to a stereo beside the television, flipped on some soft music, and began to slowly sway her body.

She closed her eyes, then lifted her hands up into her hair, swaying back and forth. I sat down on the bench by the door, retreating into the shadow. My heart was beating wildly. The two men were silently watching her. She reached behind her neck and undid the top of her zipper, slowly pulled it down her back to her waist. Her hands trembled slightly. My hard-on was threatening to burst. I began to rub myself slowly through my pants.

She slid the dress off her shoulders, down to her waist and then wiggled her hips slightly, the dress falling to the floor. She kicked it away and faced the two men. Her large breasts wobbled slightly, the erect nipples pushing against the sheer fabric of her bra. She continued to gently move her hips. She moved slowly towards the sofa. Number One reached out and gently caressed the soft pink skin above her thigh-highs. She turned her bottom to him. He slid his hands under the fabric of her panties. My wife put her head down, eyes still closed, and gently gyrated her bum against Number One's hands. Sitting in the shadow by the door, I undid my belt buckle and slid my pants and underwear to the floor. My erection throbbed in time with my racing heart. I held myself gently. I was so aroused that even a slight movement would be enough to produce an eruption of sperm.

Then Carol turned around and stood before Number Two. She looked him directly in the face as she reached behind her back and undid her bra. She dropped her arms and the bra fell quietly to the floor. She was shaking a little, which made her large breasts tremble. I was watching her breasts in profile and her nipples stood out like I hade never seen them before. Her breath seemed short. She shivered and her breasts jiggled lightly again, just inches from his face.

He stood up and smiled, lifting her heavy breasts in both hands, then kissed her on the mouth. My wife seemed jolted for a moment by the intimacy, and pulled her head back slightly. But then to my astonishment – and arousal – she lifted her arms around his neck, closed her eyes and opened her mouth, taking in his probing tongue. She moaned and pulled his head down to her in an even tighter embrace, runing her hands through his hair. I couldn't recall that she had ever kissed me with such passion and arousal. At that point I lost control. I let out an audible gasp as I sucked in air, leaned back against the wall and thrust my straining cock upwards. As I watched Number Two's tongue slide deep into my wife's willing mouth, his hands squeezing her swelling breasts... my legs tensed and my cock jumped. I just let go.