"Be careful what you wish for" might be a better title for how my seven year marriage has opened-up sexually in recent months. It also answered some life-long questions. It all started one night when after making love with my wife Katherine, or Kathy as I call her, she asked me about my sexual fantasies.
"Why do you ask?" I said rather puzzled.
"I just wanted to know the kind of things that turn you on," Kathy replied.
"After all these years you have to ask?" I shot back. "You know what I like."
"I mean deep down," she replied. "There must be some things that turn you on but you've never told me about."
"And never will," I replied.
"Oh, come on. Like what?"
"Hey, why all of a sudden this desire to hear about my darkest fantasies?"
My wife just looked away pouting. Trying to rescue myself I said, "I don't ask you about your deepest fantasies, do I? Would you tell me yours?" "I might," she replied. Realizing we weren't going to end this until I told her something naughty, I said "Okay. What do you want to know?"
Kathy then became more serious and asked "What's the one thing that turns you on the most?" I grew silent because I knew the answer but didn't know how, or if, I should say anything. Seeing my apprehension Kathy asked, "Come on. What?"
"Older women," I said nervously. Kathy was silent. "Years ago, I always fantasized about them," I continued. Kathy looked away but then turned to me and asked why. "I don't know exactly," I replied. "It's not what you think. I didn't lust after my mom." When Kathy asked who I did lust after I mentioned a high school English teacher, a neighbor, and even an older cousin. "I always fantasized about seeing them having sex with young guys," I concluded, my mind drifting.
"Not with you?" Kathy asked.
"Well, sometimes."
"That's interesting," Kathy said as if analyzing me. "Do you still think of older women and younger men?" When I said sometimes, Kathy grew silent.
"How old are the women in your fantasies?" she asked.
"Forties or so." "And how young are the men?" I was now dead meat. In my silence my heart raced. "How young are they?" Kathy pried.
Swallowing hard, I batted my eyes and said "In their teens."
Kathy's eyes grew wide and her mouth fell. "You mean you still fantasize about older women and...teenage boys?" she managed to say rather disbelieving.
"Yep," I replied meekly.
My wife turned her head and looked straight ahead for a very long half-minute. She then asked, "Do you fantasize about them when we have sex?"
"Sometimes."
Kathy then seemed to be summoning-up the nerve to ask the next question.
"Do you ever fantasize...that I'm...the older woman?"
"Uh, sometimes," I said almost in fear of what would happen next. Kathy let out a sigh and I said "Well, you wanted to know what turned me on."
Kathy just nodded her head like "Yeah, yeah."
"Can we go to sleep now?" I asked, and she then turned out the light.
After about ten minutes of darkened silence my wife said "Do you want to see me with younger men?"
"What?" I asked.
"You heard me. Do you want to watch me with a younger man?"
"No!" I snapped. "Good God, it's just a fantasy. One that's quickly losing its appeal. Just forget it." And she did. Or so I thought.
My name is Paul. I met Kathy at a party nine years ago. She was then a coworker of the wife who, along with her husband were throwing the party. I worked for the husband, in sales. I was in my mid-thirties, never married, with really only two steady girlfriends my whole life: a college girlfriend whom I dated for a year before she found someone else, and a woman I saw off and on several years later, but that, too, ended when I wasn't making enough for her aspirations.
By the time I met Kathy, I hadn't been with a woman in over two years. I felt it was all the norm for an average-looking guy, twenty pounds overweight, of average height with an average-sized cock. Fortunately I took up cooking as a hobby so I could at least feed myself. By contrast, Kathy was something else. She stood five-feet five with brown hair that came down in a wave over her shoulders. She had dark brown eyes and full lips; not to mention a fine figure and great legs. Lucky for me she was single and looking.
She had married after college but divorced a year later. She always blamed it on her ex-husband's "attitude" but I never knew what that meant. She never wanted to talk about him. Now five years later at the age of thirty, she was looking for Mr. Right: a nice, uncomplicated guy to settle down with. At last, I was in the right place at the right time. Two years later we were married and nothing's changed; at forty-four I'm still the same and at thirty-nine, Kathy's still a knockout. How have I held onto her all this time? Must be my cooking!
