While we had often talked about it during sex, the fantasy of seeing and hearing my wife with another man didn't seem to ever come close to being realized. I had brought home an eight inch vibrator, shaped and veined like a massive cock. I would fuck her with it while she sucked me off. She claimed to enjoy the sensation of two organs in her at the same time. Yet, afterwards reality returned. She had no desire to have anyone in her bed but me.
And so I turned to literotica.com for the fictional and semi-fictional descriptions of others who had enjoyed the fulfillment of this fantasy. Occasionally I would share the writings with her, demonstrating that it was not a unique or unusual fantasy, and that others had tried and liked the experience. It was at the same time that I realized that vocalizations were an incredible turn-on for me. While I cared little for "talking dirty," just the sound of an "Oh, that feels good," or a "do it softer, harder, etc." made me wild with desire. We agreed to practice that aspect in our sex lives. She said she could take it or leave it, but assented to verbalizing her feelings for me. Within six months, she was talking a blue streak and our sex life had never been better. We began to experiment with different things: sexy underwear, sensual massages, different positions. She settled on doggie style as her favorite.
"It feels wonderful and somehow kinda dirty," she said, "like I'm being taken. It's very exciting."
"Now you know how I feel when you talk to me," I responded. "It is exciting. And the idea of you being taken is also exciting. That's why I'd like to see you with another guy."
Her second favorite position was astride me.
"It gives me the feeling of being in control. I like that sometimes," she said.
She paused one evening, while riding me and asked, "Tell me about your fantasy. What do you imagine?"
And so, as she rode me, I conjured up the scene I'd played in my mind dozens of times. But while the pictures were vivid, the words caught in my throat. My mouth was dry and my heart raced as I tried to vocalize my dreams.
"Come on, baby," she whispered in my ear. "Tell me what you want me to do." I closed my eyes, thinking the privacy of darkness would allow me to speak. I put my hands on her hips as she slowly moved her pelvis back and forth, riding up and down my cock.
"Sometimes I imagine that there's some hot guy you've met. A guy who is really sexy and just turns you on. A guy you want to fuck. No make love to, just fuck. I imagine you right here in our bedroom."
"Yeah? And what are we doing?" she quietly prodded.
"You're sitting on the end of the bed and you're sucking his cock. He's sliding his cock in and out of your mouth. His cock is really big, and it's hard for you to fit it all in. Sometimes, you have to catch your breath and you just take it in your hands and stroke it. And he's playing with your tits. He's squeezing them and pinching your nipples until they're really hard."
"What else are we doing?" She placed her hands over mine as I kneaded her breasts.
"You ask him if he likes your tits. And he says, 'yeah', that he really does. So you push them together with your hands and squeeze them around his cock and he begins to tit-fuck you. When his cock slides up between your breasts you lick the head of it."
"Sounds like fun. But what about me? I must be getting pretty hot by this time."
"Yeah. So you lay back on the bed, propped up on the pillows and spread your legs for him. You run your hands up and down the insides of your thighs. He stands and just watches you for a minute. Then he crawls up between your legs and lowers his mouth to your cunt. You close your eyes as he begins to lap at your pussy. I can see his tongue sliding up and down your wet slit."
"Wait! You're there, too? Watching us?" She stops riding my hard-on until I continue.
"He doesn't know it. He thinks you're all alone. I'm in the closet watching all this through the two way mirror."
"Really? And do you like what you see? Do you like watching him go down on me? Does it make you hard?"
"Yes, it really turns me on. I've got my cock in my hand and I'm stroking myself while he eats your pussy."
"So, does he ever fuck me?" She lowered herself to whisper in my ear. "Does he stick his cock in me?" With her laying on me like this, I could reach around and run my hands up and down her behind, grazing the crack of her ass with my fingers and tickling her asshole.
"He wants to put your legs up over his shoulders and fuck you hard and deep like that. But you won't let him. Instead, you make him lie down and you turn your back to him and lower yourself down on his hard cock. This way you can look up at me through the mirror, knowing I'm in there, stroking myself while you fuck him on the other side of the glass. You rub your hands across your tits and up and down your stomach and thighs. Sometimes you touch your clit while his cock buried inside you. And you watch yourself in the mirror, looking at me, and I watch you back through it."
Describing it like a porn movie, with my wife as the star made her incredibly aroused. She bucked on me, squeezing me with her cunt muscles and screaming the arrival of each new orgasm.
Afterwards, during the snuggling session, she said, "Do you really want to do all that?"
"Oh, it's my fantasy. I know it'll never come true, but it's fun to think about, I replied. "Don't you have one you'd like to see come true?"
"Not that's as hot as that," she said. "I guess I'll just share yours."
We celebrated my 39th birthday on a Friday night. The house was full of friends and a few relatives. Balloons and streamers hung everywhere. We had wine, beer, snacks, and of course, birthday cake. The gifts were decent and I was feeling warm and welcomed in my group of friends and kinfolk. A single guy from my wife's workplace, Patrick, was also in attendance. I had seen him several times, but we had never really gotten to know each other. Throughout the evening, Patrick, or Rick, as my wife called him, wore a small red bow on his lapel.
"Are you into AIDS support?" I asked, indicating the ribbon.
"I'm not really an activist. No, Sarah asked me to wear this," he answered.
The party broke up at about eleven. Most of our friends had to work on Saturday. The relatives all had children with baby-sitters they had to collect. As the guests filtered out, my wife would wish them well and thank them for coming. Eventually, the only ones left were Rick, Sarah, my wife, and me.
"A real nice party, Sarah," I said. "Thank you."
"The best is yet to come," Sarah giggled. I suspected she'd had a touch too much of the wine.
"Really?"
"You haven't asked about my present, yet," she said.
