A somewhat slow building story as I break a rule my wife and I have about not involving her ex in our shared fantasies.
*****
"Do you want me to sleep with him?"
Her lips were tightly pursed. I searched her face expectantly. There was clearly some sort of anxiety expressed on her face and in her voice. I wanted to be seeing suppressed desire and the tension of going against societal norms. I wanted to be seeing the type of thoughtful trepidation one would expect when an idea is both titillating and anxiety-producing.
I have learned not to trust myself interpreting Denise's expressions when I know there is something that I want to see or hear. This is especially true when my hopes spring from some deep-seeded and almost instinctual desire. I paused to do a small reality check.
"It is my most compelling fantasy," I said tentatively. "It is also one of my greatest anxieties."
My answer was at once frank and truthful. I suppose it didn't matter if I actually understood the expression on Denise's face. I was not trying to manipulate an outcome. I had just given her the simple truth.
Inside, I thrilled to the idea that she might be asking because she considered it a real possibility. Denise does not mean to be opaque, but her meanings are often far from clear. She feels things very mightily, and when she is ambivalent she tends to swing from feeling strongly one way to feeling strongly the other. Once she swings one way or the other, she tends to forget that she ever felt the other way, and she sometimes rearranges the facts in a manner that fits her current interpretation. I make no judgment of her swings, and I know that it does not spring from any impulse to deceive. It is merely the way her brain works.
Perhaps I was projecting my own ambivalence on her. I am no stranger to ambivalence. When I answered that this was my most compelling fantasy and biggest anxiety, I was not exaggerating. This fantasy penetrated my brain even when it was unwanted. I often tried to control it, knowing that it evoked some negative emotions in Denise. However, even when I could control it through the day, it would come to me during the night in the form of dreams. I would awaken in a sweat, with a raging hard-on, and vivid images of her having intense and protracted orgasms on his cock.
The night before, I had violated one of our explicit rules for role-play. I invited her to think of her ex, Raphael, as I thrust our biggest toy into her pussy. We made that rule, but once I got involved in the heat of a role-play, I could never seem to keep it. Denise told me that the images that come to mind when I break that rule can be very pleasant. On the other hand, she had a number of rational and heartfelt objections. She told me that her relationship had been deep, and it feels like I'm cheapening it when it is part of our role-play. She told me it objectified Raphael. she told me that it made her feel like I don't understand her, that I don't understand that sex is about the relationship and not about a cock or performance.
She would express these reservations with her cool, rational words. Whether I actually disbelieved her or just wanted to disbelieve her, I took different cues from her physical response when I broke the rules. Her body during the role play said something different. Her body always showed hyper arousal when I broke the rules.
So here I kneeled between her legs, stimulating her, and fantasizing about her being with him. She was already quite aroused when I brought out the toy. She had experienced four or five big orgasms as I stimulated her neck and breasts and clit and pussy, with various combinations of tongue, lips, and fingers. Denise becomes palpably open after big orgasms. There is laxity in her body. Her skin is hot to the touch. Her eyes are slow to focus with big pupils and warm inviting gazes. Her rapid shallow breaths hardly seemed to provide enough oxygen to sustain her. There is more to her openness than just her physical receptiveness. I sometimes wonder if I could videotape her when she is wide open and decode just what it is that makes her skin and body, mind and soul seem so boundary-less, as though any touch or word would penetrate her.
I am a little ashamed that I am violating our rule again. When I inevitably ask forgiveness after one of these transgressions, I accurately note that I don't do my best thinking with a boner on.
She was on her back, with her hips raised on a pillow. I was kneeling between her legs. She was still quivering from her last orgasm, and in a syrupy voice, she said she had lost all sensation in her hands. Her face was bliss. I worried I might break the spell as I sat up and reached into the nightstand for our biggest toy, but as I repositioned myself between her legs, she still glowed.
Kneeling again between her legs, I slowly dragged the large bulbous head of the dildo back and forth between her clit and her opening. Her swollen and slick labia supplely parted for it as it moved. Little shudders rocked Denise's body when it dragged against her clit, and her hips rocked more forward and she opened her legs as it would touch her opening.
"You really want this, don't you?" I said softly but authoritatively, locking my eyes onto hers.
"Mmmmm... " she murmured, holding my gaze and lifting her hips again to me
"You really want this big cock."
"Mmmmm..." this time with a bit more impatience.
"You really want to be stretched... filled..."
"Fuck yes!" She grabbed the sheets, arched her back, and tried to impale herself on the cock.
I withdrew the toy, keeping it pressed against her opening, but did not allow her thrust to bring it further inside of her.
"Is this toy as big as Raphael?" I asked, knowing the answer. I somewhat timidly put a toe across the line, looking for her response.
"You know he is thicker. Thicker than you. Thicker than any of our toys."
I took her response as permission. "I want you to be open... open to my fantasy."
"Mmmmmm," she moaned without a hint of reservation. Her eyes closed, breaking eye contact for what seemed to be the first time this evening. She bent her knees more and tucked her feet so she could more purposefully raise and lower her hips.
"We are at a big work party," I start my story while lightly dragging the head of the cock up and down her slit.
In a slow, calm, low voice, I begin in earnest.
"We are at a work party. I am being my usual introverted self. I am tucked away in a corner having a deep conversation with Chris. You are flitting about. You don't think of it as flirting, but I can see men gazing longingly at you, reading more into your gregariousness than you intend. Maybe they can smell the sex we had just before the party. Maybe they can see that there are no panty lines in that beautiful blue and black patterned dress that is clinging to your ass. You catch my eye and send me little kisses, knowing that I'm enjoying watching you."
My story starts slowly, but my slightly Increased pressure on the toy is holding Denise's attention. She has moved one hand up to a nipple where she is pinching and twisting it.
I start speaking again and check in to see if she's with me. "Can you feel the fabric of your dress clinging to your perfect ass," I ask?
