Shadow of a Doubt

I’d spent many an hour in front of the computer in Johan’s den while he was at work or away, reading erotic stories and tweaking my imagination. Sometimes I looked at porn too, but I always found the images in my head were much more erotic.

For almost two hours I’d been sitting there, chewing my thumbnail or sucking a pencil, and not getting anywhere. My task was to write down my fantasies. I’d made little headway, instead spending most of the time revisiting my various fantasies and trying to somehow make sense of them in my head.

I was lost in my thoughts and almost jumped out of my skin when Johan knocked loudly and pushed his head around the door.

“I’ve just come to tell you dinner’s rea… what’s wrong, baby?”

“This is just… really hard!”

“Come and have some dinner. You can come back and start over when we’re done.”

Start over? I’d hardly written anything!

“Okay… I am kinda hungry.”

Being Sunday night, the kids were at their Grandmother’s house and would by now be getting themselves ready for bed. Johan and I enjoyed a romantic candlelight dinner of spicy fish and sautéed vegetables. While we ate, we talked quietly about the problems I was having writing down my fantasies for him.

I told him it wasn’t easy. Of course he made light of my difficulties (well, he is a male), telling me, “Sure it is, you already told them to me once, sweetheart.”

I love all the pet names he has for me.

I smiled softly and explained to him it was more than that. I told him how it was important to me to own them, and that I needed to sort them out in my head. I wanted to give him some idea of why I had them.

He said he understood, and repeated his suggestion to start over.

“Sometimes when I write a letter, I just start off on the wrong foot. Start over, baby. Just tell me what’s going on in your head.”

Maybe he was right.

Later after we’d washed up the dishes, I sat back down in front of the damned computer.

I moved the mouse and the screensaver flickered away.

The opening paragraph stared back at me from the screen.

For about the twentieth time, I read it again.

I've been a naughty girl and I haven't been completely and utterly honest with you. I have extreme fantasies, fantasies that would make a whore blush, and as you asked, I will set them out here, for you to do with as you wish.

I wrinkled my nose.

It sounded too formal and I wasn’t happy with it.

“…Make a whore blush…”

I giggled.

It didn’t sound like me at all.

Besides, there was something else.

I didn’t really know if it would make any difference, but I had to be even

more

honest.

You see, I hadn’t told Johan that I had wondered about actually

doing

these wicked things.

So they weren’t ‘just’ fantasies. I mean, it’s true, I imagined them while I fucked myself. But lately, instead of just accepting them as fantasies and forgetting about them, I’ve wondered, “God, imagine actually doing that

here

,” or, “imagine if it was

them!

”

When I get thoughts like that, my nipples get hard and my skin prickles with excitement.

They were getting hard now at the thought of what I was about to do.

I highlighted the text, and hit backspace.

I swallowed.

This was

not

going to be a short letter!

I sat back in Johan’s chair to swivel a little and thought about how I usually go about fucking myself.

Mmmmmm… yeah, ‘fucking myself’.

As I always do, I closed my eyes and used my imagination. Like a movie, I watched myself get ready and then play with myself on our big bed in the dark. I figured if I was going to write about it, I’d better get an idea of what I must look like. I saw myself with my legs spread wide, thrusting a big toy into my body with one hand and pressing a strong vibe to my clit with the other. I felt the blush creeping up my cheeks and my nipples hardened.

I rolled my hips a little and squeezed my thighs together.

God, I was wet already.

I sighed.

I was

never

gonna get this letter written.

I stood up and went to the bathroom for a towel. When I sit in Johan’s chair, I always sit on a towel if I’m excited and not wearing panties. He’d kill me if I stained it. I grabbed a nice fluffy one and returned to the den. Not once did I think to put my panties back on.

I folded it in half and sat back down.

You see, I get very juicy when I get excited, and warm liquid will well up inside me and eventually escape, trickling down the inside of my thighs or staining what I’m wearing.

Of course Johan loves how hot and wet I get, and he likes making me clean myself with my fingers and my mouth. He says it’s sexy and I don’t mind the taste. It’s just, well, it’s

nasty

and it always makes me blush, and my nipples get hard when I blush, my whole body tingles and I get doubly horny! I’ve told him what happens and that it’s a losing battle and having to do it only makes me hornier.

He just chuckles and tells me he likes me horny.

It’s infuriating!

I resigned myself to doing it, and I could feel myself blushing more just

thinking

about it.

Taking a deep breath and then pouting unconsciously, I spread my legs and slid my pretty, summer dress up from my knees with flat palms. I watched as my thighs, with their smooth tanned skin from so many hours in the solarium, were slowly revealed.

Is it wrong that I like the look of my body? That I enjoy the pleasure it gives me?

Johan enjoys it. He always has.

Mmmmmm… my beautiful husband. He’s so sweet.

I started thinking about fucking him.

Dragging my French nails lightly up the inside of my bare thighs, I closed my eyes and saw him over me, fucking me hard.

I quickly shook my head and opened my eyes again, sitting up a little straighter but leaving my legs open.

I furrowed my brow in annoyance.

“It’s not fair,” I said aloud.

It was such a mean rule.

I lifted the bunched hem above my cleanly shaved pussy, staring down at my glistening folds.

So wet, and I hadn’t even touched myself.

I’d be here for hours if I didn’t get my mind on this letter.

I lifted my middle and index fingers to my mouth, sliding them between my lips.

Moistening them a little, I slid them together over my clit and down to my puffy, wet opening, then drew them slowly up to catch what had escaped.

“Mmmmmm…”

I tried to think constructively about what I was going to write while I watched my fingers returning to my mouth, glistening with my juices.

I licked my lips and sighed.

“Well, think about it,” I thought, as I slid my fingers into my mouth.

“It shouldn’t take too long. There’s only three or four different ones isn’t there?”

I closed my mouth around my fingers and sucked softly.

“Maybe five?”

I returned my somewhat dry fingers to my hot, wet little pussy and shivered as I drew them up between my lips, coating them with my honey again, before once more cleaning them in my mouth.

I swallowed and set my jaw.

I needed to get this done now. And then I needed a good fuck!

I shook my head at myself and cleaned my fingers in my mouth one last time.

I sat up straight and rearranged myself, wiping my fingers on the towel.

Bringing them up to the keyboard, I reminded myself that I needed to stay focused while thinking about this stuff.

I wanted to make sure Johan knew a couple of things first. Then, if I hurried up, maybe there would still be time to fool around a bit.

I smiled to myself and started typing.

Dear Johan,

In the interests of complete honesty, I’ve decided to make this kind of like a confession. I want you to know everything there is to know about my masturbation habits. I hate that word. ‘Masturbation’. The feel of that word isn’t right, baby. In my head I call it ‘fucking myself’. So I’m going to call it that here. I hope you don’t mind. I just think it’s important you understand everything, baby, so I’m gonna write it all down.

Johan, you know how when we do it, I can be really dirty, and really naughty?

Well, when I close my eyes and fantasise, I can be even dirtier and naughtier.

I’ll try to explain.

When I’m with you, I am so focused and so lost in you, baby. You are the centre of my universe and none of these fantasies intrude into that. I never think about them unless I’m alone. Ever. The things we do when we are together are so close to my limits, so close to as much as I can stand, and yet, in my fantasies, I still wonder.

I don’t feel unfulfilled. You take me so high, baby.

So, when I’m alone, something might happen. It might be a thought that I have, or a commercial on TV. Anyway, suddenly I feel horny and I think about all my amazing toys. Then I think, “what the hell,” and I go to the bedroom and make a selection.

Then I usually turn off the lights and close my eyes.

I can see things much more clearly in my mind like that.

During the day I draw the curtains. Then like I said, I close my eyes.

I take off my clothes. Sometimes in my mind, I’m being ordered to do it.

Yes, baby, sometimes it hits me that hard.

I’ll lie down on the bed and gather my toys around me within reach, and watch as the pictures in my mind begin.

It’s times like these when my limits are blown away. With my eyes closed, and my toys doing their work, I can be such a dirty girl, baby. I do things I’d never imagine doing in real life.

Like most people, it’s sometimes one scenario, sometimes another, and sometimes they vary a little, but basically I come back to the same four or five different ones.

Okay, so I guess I better write them down now…

Yes, I’m nervous, but I’m grinning.

Here goes nothing!

One of the fantasies I have is one that I think most people have at one time or another. It comes from being a bit of a show-off, I guess. I know I have a nice body and I notice the looks my legs get. It turns me on, and I sometimes have the devilish thought of flashing.

When I was younger, I would fuck myself to the thought of flashing at traffic or exposing myself to the boys at football games. Then while at college I would wonder if I could flash a good-looking guy while having lunch in the cafeteria. I’ve also fantasised about being exposed on a city street or a crowded train. I’ve never done anything like that, but the thought of it drives me nuts.

The thought of finding myself exposed in front of a group of people, their eyes devouring me, their cocks getting hard and their pussies getting wet, excites me a lot. I can’t help it. I’ve always loved the look of a hard cock in a pair of jeans, baby, you know that. But even more so, it’s the thought of what they think of me that makes me cum. Like, “Look at that girl, what a slut...”

God, Johan, the thought of actually doing it…

I masturbate to that fantasy a lot.

A fairly recent fantasy, in a similar vein, is not only to be exposed to, but also used by, our friends. I find a lot of our friends very attractive, for a variety of reasons. I mean, some of them are quite good looking, and knowing most of them share this lifestyle and would use me well… ohhh, it makes me shiver when I think about it.

Please understand, Johan, that there is no one I desire to be with other than you. I don’t ‘want’ anyone else. But if I were ‘made’ to please them, or ‘used’ for their pleasure, I wouldn’t be responsible for enjoying it, would I?

Because, baby, that’s exactly what happens.

They use me. I’m touched by them, felt, caressed, spanked, played with, and fucked. But I’m unable to move or touch them in any way.

I’m at their mercy.

In my fantasy, I’m naked, blindfolded, gagged and tied down tight. I can’t do anything to stop what happens.

Being unable to tell who is doing what, and not being able to do anything about it, is a major fantasy for me, and I love the orgasms I get from that one.

Ugh. Just a minute…

Okay, back again. I’m shaking my head ‘cause I can hear you chuckling.

The third fantasy involves other women. Whereas the last fantasy usually has women present and involved, it’s not the same because it’s impersonal. In this fantasy, I have to satisfy others.

I’ve never had an experience with another woman, and I have no desire to initiate one. But I’ve looked at other girls and thought they were attractive, and I’ve wondered if they taste the same as I do. But that’s all.

You and I both know I’d never do anything like this without your permission, but even with your blessing, if someone I found attractive asked me, I would definitely say ‘no’. Even though I’m curious about it, I couldn’t admit to wanting it. What I’m getting at is, I’ve never seen myself as wanting it or liking it. To eat pussy, I mean, baby. I mean, you guys do it, and seem to like it. So it couldn’t be too bad. Oh, I don’t know! In my mind, I always thought you had to be a lesbian to want to do that.

But you see, if I didn’t have that choice, if I ‘had’ to or if I was ‘made’ to, I could do it. Then if I liked it, I wouldn’t be a lesbian. Would I? I know I should be more open-minded. Blame the nuns, baby. (winks)

Anyway, it makes me wet just thinking about that.

I also have a fantasy where I am taken roughly by a group of men I don’t know. The idea of being gangbanged and treated like a slut by strangers makes my cunt spasm. In my fantasy, I try to talk them out of it but they are ruthless and unstoppable. I submit and can’t help myself, soon becoming their willing, insatiable whore.

There are usually three, but often more. Sometimes it is many more. Sometimes they are black. Sometimes there are spectators who yell abuse and humiliate me. My fantasies don’t often involve men with huge cocks, but my gangbang fantasy usually does.

My pussy is creaming again, baby, back in a sec.

Okay, back again.

Johan, as you know, my last fantasy is a rape fantasy. I don’t know if this is a common fantasy; I’ve never asked any of my friends about it. I’d be too embarrassed to ask them. It makes me feel queasy thinking about it and it was the hardest one to admit to you.

I can’t reconcile it. I don’t want to be raped. I really don’t. The thought of being actually raped scares the crap out of me. It would be a horrific experience that I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

But what if, in the back of my mind, I knew it was ‘play-rape’? If I ‘knew’ I was safe?

In my fantasy I’m surprised by someone or caught doing something I shouldn’t be doing, and then force-fucked. I don’t want to like it, I fight and try to stop it happening, but I am overwhelmed, and before long my body betrays me, and he knows it and despite myself, I can’t help it and I cum and cum and cum.

The whirlwind of force and being able to do nothing… God.

The thought is so frighteningly erotic.

But Johan, please, this is important to me, baby…

If you see fit to fulfill this particular fantasy, I would need you there. I would need to be able to see you, so I knew I was safe.

In fact, I would prefer it if you were there for all of them.

The thought of you seeing just what a slut I am makes me even wetter.

All I know is, when I fuck myself, it is usually one or more of these fantasies that I have. As you know, I love to cum, baby. I just love it. And when the thought of these scenarios passes through my mind, I cum so hard. Asking you to make them come true… God, Johan… my tummy flips, but my pussy is so wet.

But Johan, I love you. Nothing will change that. My crazy thoughts, dreams and fantasies don’t change the fact that I love you with every square inch of my heart. If nothing comes of this, then I won’t be unhappy.

I’ll only be unhappy if it changes us.

So baby, that is the confession of my fantasies, and I give you permission to do with them what you wish. Whether that is to make one or more, or a combination of them, come true, or to ignore them altogether. As I submit to you, that is your choice.

One last thing: I trust you, Johan, but baby, please don’t lose this letter. I trust you to look after my secrets as you do me.

Your loving wife,

Shannon

xxx

ps. You know the amazing thing? I don’t have any secrets any more. Not one. I’m scared and hot about what might happen, but I’m also strangely relieved.

I’d been sitting on our bed, either looking down or watching Johan read my words.

I blushed when he looked up from the pages to smile into my eyes. When he looked at me like that, I always felt like I was naked. He looked down again to finish reading.

Finally he sighed and straightened the pages, shaking his head.

“You are such a naughty girl, you know.”

He looked up at me, lust burning in his hot blue eyes.

“Goddd…” I thought, as my pussy clenched involuntarily.

I bit my lip.

“I’m sorry, Sir,” I said, blushing madly.

He turned around and placed the pages on the bedside table.

I watched him as he stood and moved around the end of the bed, like a huge cat.

Suddenly he was over me. He’d flattened me on my back and had my hands pinned over my head in an instant. His other hand moved my legs apart but I pushed them back together again, as soon as he reached for the buttons down the front of my thin, floral dress.

He pulled my legs apart again.

“You are my slut, and my slut has her legs open whenever I want her to have them open.”

He slapped me on the inside of my thigh.

I shuddered and kept them open, but it didn’t stop me trying to get my arms free.

“Y… yes, Sir.”

“Or perhaps you ‘want’ me to rip this pretty dress from your body.”

He took hold of it in his fist between my breasts.

“You’d love that, wouldn’t you?”

I swallowed and stopped struggling.

“But it’s one of my favourites, Sir,” I whined.

Surely he wouldn’t.

“You don’t think I would?”

I looked at him imploringly.

I needed fucking. I didn’t need my second favourite dress torn to shreds.

God…

I could feel how wet I was getting. I’d put my panties back on earlier. They were getting wet and it felt cool as the moisture evaporated from the tight fabric covering my pulsing, wet little cunt.

I started squirming again but he held my wrists tight.

“Please…”

“Please what? Please rip your dress to shreds and fuck my ass off, or please let me go?”

“That’s not…”

“Choose, slut!”

“But!”

I tried one more time to wrestle free. In the struggle, he took the neck of my pretty dress in his big hand.

Without warning, he tore my dress from neck to hem.

“Nooooo!!!!!”

He took my exposed left breast in his hand and crushed it firmly, my flesh bulging between his fingers.

I bit my tongue and a tear slid down my cheek.

Fuck! I loved that dress!

“My stupid little slut… your wet pussy just cost you that dress you know…”

He released my breast and I sighed with pained relief, feeling his fingers gathering the material of my panties into his fist, and stretching them tight up my ass.

“‘Let me go’, that’s all you had to say, but your wet fucking cunt just wouldn’t let you, would it?”

“Noooo!!!! Donnn’tttt!!!!!”

RRRRIPP!!!

Johan tore my bikini panties from my body like they were tissue paper.

“Open your dirty mouth, my little slut.”

He brought the shredded garment to my lips and pressed it between my teeth, pushing more and more of it into my mouth.

As it was pushed in, I pressed my tongue against it to stop myself from choking and immediately tasted myself.

He prodded the last strip into my mouth and lifted my chin with his finger until my mouth closed around them. I had a pair of my own wet panties in my mouth. I’d never done that before.

I swallowed instinctively.

I felt like I was on another planet.

My pretty little blue panties were being used as a gag to shut me up.

I moaned softly and my eyes rolled back into my head.

I arched my back and spread my legs wider, lifting my pussy into the air in search of sensation.