It is fine to indulge in fantasies on an intellectual level, when those fetishes are acted upon the expectations never match the reality. My name is Sidney Mortimer, I work as an engineer, my wife is paralegal we make good money, the bills are all paid and we're comfortable. My wife is an attractive woman, she was, before I met her, a stripper in some southern state these days some of her tone is gone but the shape and curve are all intact. She lights a room when she walks in, when she smiles the world sighs in response. How she got hooked up with me in the first place has always been a matter of dumb luck, mostly on my part. I for the life of me have no idea what women see in men, we tend to be boorish misshapen slobs who only act on the basest of impulses. Why would I want to share her? It's a fetish. It's a base impulse. On an intellectual level it is arousing to think of her forgetting all we've meant and been to each other and letting go to those dangerous urges. It's a voyeuristic fantasy. It's also a control fantasy in that I want her to forget, but still be bound to me. Fantasies are like that, contradictions.
We were at supper; scraps of crust and the odd glazed carrot were all that remained of the meal. Half way through the bottle of Shiraz the conversation got round to sex as it so often does. "If you want to get creative we still have those floggers, oh and the handcuffs."
"No that's not what I meant. I want the extreme, what really turns you on?" She sipped the wine and smiled.
"What really turns me on? Well, I've always been attracted to black women."
"No, I mean like a kink, something a little dirty. Being attracted to black chicks doesn't count."
I smiled and that's really where this whole thing started. I said, "I would like you to forget our marriage, just for a little while and be kind of, um, you know..."
"Say it, what?" She giggled.
"A slut. Forget our marriage and be a slut." Georgia grimaced, "Well, my thought was it's voyeurism right, watching my wife get cozy with another man, but then your vows would get in the way, you'd feel uncomfortable, not fully commit. So I think forget, totally, completely, forget we were married, forget our vows forget our life together." Georgia is still quiet, "I mean you asked, it's dirty and a little creepy and it turns me on." I gulp at my glass, fearing the next sentence.
Georgia coolly sips at her wine. " It sounds fun. Really scary, but fun."
"It's just a fantasy."
"We could do it." I did a double take. "I know a doctor, she does hypnosis, colleagues have recommended her for quitting smoking, back problems, all sorts of stuff. We should do it."
"Really?"
She nods, "Down the line I get my turn though. Dirty, scary, weird little kink whatever it is, deal?" I nodded my agreement.
Doctor Wilhelmina Novaris is the hypnotherapist Georgia spoke of. It was all very professional, she took me into her office and told me in specific what she could do and what to expect. She showed me testimonials, waivers, even in erotic fantasy there is bureaucracy, and finally she gave me a price tag all of which I agreed to. We scheduled the appointment for the following day, Friday. My wife and I arrived and the doctor asked that I wait outside while she worked with Georgia. I was uncomfortable with it but she said my presence would have a detrimental effect on the procedure so I agreed. I heard the doctor's voice, but there was no distinction, no annunciation to it, juts a collection of consonants and dull tenor tones. After maybe an hour the doctor called me in. Georgia was sitting on the couch smiling I sat down next to her.
"Everything went fine, I've given her a couple of code words to initiate the post hypnotic suggestions and a few mental triggers to reinforce the suggestions so you shouldn't have to come back for awhile. Georgia could you step out? This'll only take a minute." Georgia nodded, I smiled at her my heart was pounding in my chest, she kissed me and left the room.
"She seemed a bit out of it still."
"That will pass, now it is important that you remember these words, they are triggers one turns her on the other off, pretty simple." I nod I can barely hear over my heartbeat. "Concupiscence will activate the post hypnotic trigger." I repeated the word to my self over and over in my head the shut off word sounded like shadow, I nodded and stood up I shook her hand and Georgia and I left.
In the car I asked, "What did it feel like?"
She shrugged, "It didn't feel like anything, I was sitting there thinking she wasn't hypnotizing me then I kind of drifted off and it was done."
"It took an hour."
She shrugged, "It didn't feel like an hour."
When we got home we did the usual things but it was all autopilot, we were anticipating the night. Then the time came to get ready, it was very surreal, both of us knowing that soon Georgia would be essentially a different person. The car ride was silent; this is a part of the fantasy that went against my expectation. We were supposed to be having fun. This felt more like a wake or the anticipation of some imminent disaster. Finally I spoke, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
She nodded, "I'm sorry I'm not more talkative. It's just, I don't know, I feel like a stranger in my own body. This thing is exciting beyond belief. I don't know what I'm going to do, if this works. I don't know who I'll hit on I don't know what I'm going to be into. It's crazy and I owe it to myself to give this thing a try." She looked at me hard.
"I'll just watch, and I'll always be close." I stroked her thigh, "Then we're going home to fuck." She finally laughed.
We arrived at the club, it was dark and filled with decadence, it had been a long time since I saw such a display of skin. Georgia clung to his arm, "let's have one drink before we're strangers." She kissed me and we made our way to the bar.
"Cold feet?" She made a little gesture with her thumb and pointer finger.
We drank our drinks and I proceeded into what I felt would be my masterstroke. Get her worked up before sending her off. We made out like teenagers against a wall near the back of a club, I bit her neck and caressed her ass. She grinded up against my groin and breathlessly whispered "Do it now."
I gripped her arms hard and turned her away from me fast, dizzying, and whispered into her ear "Concupiscence"
* * *
I'm at a club like so many I've been to before. Everyone here looks incredibly fuckable. There's a guy behind me that looks like he's coming down from a blowjob. I think it's time to get a drink. I saunter to the bar feeling sexy. I lean in letting my tits heave forward as I order my drink. The bartender hands me my drink as I pull out my cash a guy next to me puts his hand on the cash. "Hey baby, let me take care of that for you." I can see his hard on through his pants. He's wearing a pair of dirty leather pants no shirt, sexy chest, and he looks like he hasn't bathed in a couple of days.
"Sure." I say and he pays for my drink.
"Do you dance?" He asks, I nod and he pulls me against him I exhale, his touch is electric. His hands linger around the small of my back and he holds me close. I smell sweat and nicotine off his skin. I break apart from him and step back, he grabs me around the waist and pulls me back into him, he kisses me and my knees wobble.
He leads me upstairs to a couch, sits down and pats his lap. I take the cue and straddle him.
"What's your name?" He asks.
"Georgia." I grind against his lap as I chug at my drink.
The music pulses through the club making every part of me vibrate as I rock on his lap. He puts his hands on my stomach and slowly finds his way to my tits. It feels heavenly. Only a handful of people are around, some of them are watching some are engaged in their own dry humps. I stick my tongue down his throat and his hands creep under my top. I grind against him I can feel every bump and vein of his cock through my silk panties. My cunt is crying out, I pull him close and say, "We need to go now!" He nods and I take him off the couch.
As we're leaving I hear someone screaming something and it occurs to me the voice sounds familiar but when I look back I don't recognize him. Leather pants grabs my ass, I squeal.
The man who was screaming runs after us he's yelling "shadow" at the top of his lungs. The bouncer tries to stop him but the man is too wiry and manages to get around him. My man cracks the screaming man across the face; he goes down like a sack of bricks. If I weren't already horny, I'd be dripping at this display.
Finally we get out of the club and into his car. "That was so hot." I say to him and he fingers me from the driver's seat. I hump against his hand and pull his other hand to my tits. He climbs on top of me, still fingering me, we kiss a sloppy drool covered kiss.
Out of the blue he stops, "Is this gonna cost me money Georgia?" I shake my head, totally dumbfounded by his question. "What do you do?"
"I'm a stripper. I don't take money for fucking." He seems agreeable to this concept. He climbs off of me, puts the car in drive and we're off.
When we arrive at his loft I'm instantly on him, and in return he's tearing at my top. With my tits free he sucks at them, rips my panties away with one hand and grabs my ass with the other. I howl in ecstasy and push him across the room and onto his bed. He smiles, surprised by my strength, I stride onto the bed at this point wearing nothing but my miniskirt, he's pulling his pants down clumsily as I approach. Standing over him I lower myself onto his rigid dick. Dawn broke before I passed out with him still inside me.
* * *
I rubbed my jaw and stood up after the guy hit me. I don't know how much time had passed. As I stood a mohawked punk raised his glass to me. My head was throbbing. She didn't even look at me, that man hit me and she was completely focused on him. I was in a panic, the room was spinning; I threw up all over the floor. The mohawked guy chortled behind me. She was gone, she left me, first I was furious but then my fury dwindled to self-hatred. How could I have been so stupid; how could I not have seen that coming. I put her in this position and she was out there with that man.
I pulled my cell phone from my coat and raced out the door once my composure had returned. The hypnotist, Wilhelmina, she had to help me. I called her, no one answered finally it went to voicemail. She gave an emergency number on the voicemail, I dialed it it also went to voicemail; I left a message at both. After that there was nothing more I could do, so I went home.
The apartment was quiet and hollow. I crawled into my bed and did something I hadn't done in years, I cried.
* * *
Light wakes me up. There is a skylight above the bed birds had been using it as a toilet for some time by the look of it. I woke up looking into a kaleidoscope of bird shit. I got up and snooped around the place. I suspected he was an artist, and I was proven correct by his collection of paintings. It looks like he was working on a self-portrait; a mirror was set next to a canvas marked with a charcoal skeleton.
I use his shower. All he has is bar soap and mousse, but it's enough for my purposes. I think about the night and the club and the man I rode all night while I lather myself up. I love my breasts, and my butt; I haven't felt this sexy in a long time. I finish my shower and look at myself, naked, in the mirror. My face seemed strange to me. Like it was my face but the expression was different, lustier than I remember.
He is snoring quietly when I get out of the bathroom. He asked my name, but I don't know his. Not that I want to get into something serious but it's nice to know who I'm fucking. Oh God it was good I'll definitely hook up with him again. He's naked and the covers are strewn across the room. His cock is small now flaccid, but I think I should change that, a going away present.
