I've been married for five years to a woman that I love dearly. We're both thirty-five years of age and we don't have children. You never know what the future will bring, but I suspect that we may have missed that boat. Sex has always been good, but it has become less regular over the past couple of years. I suppose, like many couples, after the first flush of excitement, our love life has dwindled.
We make love once a week at best now, it's pleasurable but predictable and not usually as intense and exciting as it once was. It's not that I fancy my wife any less than I used to; I still find her sexually attractive. She's shapely, has blue eyes, tousled light-brown hair in a long bob style and she looks hot when she dresses up to go out in her heels, stockings and a tight dress. That happens less often than it used to; we tend to stay in more at weekends than we did previously. We're reasonably well off, so we could afford to go out much more often, but I suppose we've got ourselves into a bit of a rut.
I think we both still enjoy the idea of sex; we often flirt with each other. I wear a suit and tie to work and she still looks well turned out and attractive each morning when she dresses for the office. I watch her sometimes as she walks out of the front door in her heels; a slow, measured, sensual stride on the way to her car. If I get the chance, I'll stand and watch her as she opens her car door and slides elegantly into the driver's seat, her tight knee-length skirt clinging to her hips and thighs and riding up provocatively as she lifts first one leg, then the other, into the footwell.
She knows I'm watching her, that's when I always think to myself that I must fuck that woman when she gets home tonight. But then nothing happens; we both get home at about six and fall into the usual routine of cooking a meal, a glass or two of wine, watching TV, then going to bed and reading for a while before turning the bedroom light out and falling asleep.
Sometimes, I wake up early with a throbbing erection; usually around five o'clock. When it happened in the first year or so of our marriage, I'd 'spoon' her from behind and press my hardness into the cleft of her buttocks. She'd murmur her approval, peel off her knickers, open her legs wide and feed my cock into her warm, wet pussy. After that blissful first year of sex on demand, she started to groan tired disapproval and push me away. Now I don't bother her, and if I'm feeling extremely aroused, and sure that she's sound asleep, I wank secretly into a tissue.
In fact, I masturbate quite a lot. Sneakily into the toilet while she's out in the garden; and into a tissue in the bedroom if ever she goes out alone anywhere without me at the weekend. Sometimes, I take a pair of her soiled knickers from the laundry basket and sniff them while I come. I've even worn them, or wrapped them around my cock, while I spasm and gasp as my semen ejaculates beyond the confines of the tissue; I end up having to wipe the residue off the bedroom carpet with a damp cloth.
The thing is, she's always there, front and centre in all of my masturbation fantasies, usually with another woman, but, sometimes I imagine her fucking her male boss, or going down on the cock of the young office junior. Sometimes, she talks about them when she tells me about her day at work. I like to wonder if she's fucking one or both of them; the feeling of arousal mixed with jealousy can be exquisite, the arousal usually wins out and I want to take her upstairs and play with her pussy while I tell her all of my fantasies about her. I imagine her coming time after time, begging me to tell her more about how I like to think of her being fucked by an assortment of men and women.
To be completely honest, It's the idea of her in bed with a woman that really gets me going. It can be almost anyone: her friends, her work colleagues, my work colleagues, her hairdresser, our neighbours, a woman that works in the local shop, the postwoman, and this is really kinky, her sister-in-law and my mother's younger sister. I draw on all of these fantasies when I'm fucking her; if only she knew what I'm thinking about while my cock is inside her, would she be turned on I wonder? What does she think about when she comes? She must surely be fantasising about something or someone as we screw each other. Not always perhaps, I don't fantasise every time I fuck my wife, but when I do, my God it can be so fucking erotic.
Lately, I've begun to think about this more and more, almost to the point of obsession; it turns me on to imagine what her fantasies might entail. Then, something happened last week that brought all of my idle thoughts and sexual musings about her into sharp focus. I'd got home from work a little earlier than usual and the house seemed quiet. As I climbed the stairs, I thought I could hear muffled sounds coming from the bathroom. I couldn't quite make out what I was hearing, so I stopped dead halfway up the stairs and strained my ears. I couldn't believe it when I realised that it was the unmistakable sound of my wife having an orgasm. There was no doubt about it; the urgent but stifled, sexy little gasps and groans were definitely the sound of her reaching a climax.
Without thinking, I crept silently back downstairs, opened the front door very quietly, then closed it noisily and shouted 'Hello.' She called out a greeting in return, trying hard to keep the surprise and shakiness out of her voice. I wanted to give her time to regain her composure, so I went into the lounge to wait for her to come downstairs. I heard the toilet flush and the bathroom door being unlocked and opened. She said that she'd be with me in a minute after she'd got changed.
That was clever, she clearly wasn't ready for me to see her guilty-looking demeanour, so she played for time. My cock twitched as I imagined her in our bedroom, wriggling out of her tight skirt with pussy juice dribbling down the inside of her thighs. I remembered that she was wearing hold-up stockings; I'd seen her put them on as she was getting dressed for work; the memory did nothing to quell my sudden ardour.
I decided to play it cool and pretend that I was none the wiser about her pleasuring herself in the bathroom, but my eye caught sight of a women's magazine lying open on the coffee table. I picked it up to see what she'd been reading before she'd gone off to play with her pussy; it was an article titled: "Why should men have all of the fun?"
The article was about female masturbation, how common it was becoming and how normal it ought to be. There were tips about how to go about it, why women should not feel ashamed and how it could open up a whole new world of private sexual fantasy, that could be savoured and called upon, to delight yourself and your partner whenever the opportunity arose. Several women had been interviewed about their experiences of masturbation, and what they thought about when making love to their men.
We live in enlightened times after all. It's May 1997, and I'm delighted that many women have reintroduced stockings to their lingerie collection, as several photographs accompanying the article have rather nicely illustrated. The article piqued my interest and it was obvious that it had given my wife an idea or two about self-induced sexual satisfaction.
I heard her coming downstairs so I closed the magazine and put it back on the coffee table. When she came into the room in tight jeans and a close-fitting top, her cheeks were still slightly flushed and she was pretending a little too much that everything was normal. She had no idea that I had caught her masturbating, but she must have known that I'd seen the article that she had been reading because she'd left the pages of the magazine open; now they were closed.
I decided to probe a little to see whether she would crack and confess to masturbating. I was beginning to wonder whether, like me, she regularly pleasured herself when she got the chance. To my knowledge, she'd only played with herself in bed when I'd asked her to because it turned me on so much, but for all I knew, she might be as prolific a wanker as I was. Somehow I doubted it, but it was an arousing thought, and I was keen to find out.
"I haven't seen you with a copy of that magazine for a very long time, anything interesting in it?"
