A Fantasy Comes to Life

I am married to a very beautiful, very smart woman, and I have had the pleasure of being in a relationship with her for almost 13 years now. She and I were very close friends for many years before we became lovers, which helped our relationship become and stay rock solid. Our sex life has always been good, if not adventurous -- let's just say it has always been satisfying for the both of us, although I sometimes wished that we were a bit more adventuresome in this department -- we have fallen into a rut now where spontaneous sex never happens -- it's all planned out and follows a script (but it's still amazing!). There are few things in life I enjoy more than going down on her, and few things she enjoys more, so I guess you could say we're a good fit there.

I have always enjoyed masturbating (now there's a shocker), though I never really fantasized that much about other women while jerking off -- I'm not sure if this is abnormal or not, but my wife was most often the centerpiece of my fantasies. If it wasn't somehow the two of us involved, it was either the two of us with another woman, her together with a woman or on rare occasions me with someone else. That's pretty run of the mill, as far as I can tell, from my scientific research on the internet. I never had a fetish or a huge fantasy that consumed me (though I always crumbled at the sight of thigh-high stockings...). This all changed one night though, and this is the story of how it happened -- and evolved.

After my wife finished medical school, she started working at a hospital about an hour away. This entailed two or more night shifts a week -- while I missed having her in bed next to me, I also enjoyed the solitude. While she was at work, and I was in the mood (most of the time, to be honest), I often opened up my computer and pleasured myself. As most of you probably know, the mind wanders when doing that sort of thing -- you're not always in control of which fantasy is driving you at any given moment. One night, when she was away at the hospital, what popped into my head while masturbating came as a shock to me.

I had always been rather conventional in this sense -- always picturing myself fucking either my wife, a friend or a stranger, or my wife in bed with another woman (a fantasy of hers) -- just usual things a horny young guy would fantasize about while jerking off. This night, however, it was different. While browsing pictures online, I gravitated towards models who resembled my wife -- slender, pale, black hair with perky C-cup breasts and smooth, bald pussies. The gallery I was looking at now was in an office setting -- a beautiful, black-haired model with a skirt and silk shirt was the centerpiece of this gallery. She was bent over a desk, beautiful pale ass in the air, lace panties pulled to the side exposing her wet, bald pussy. She was wearing a silk shirt, buttons ready to burst under the pressure of her breasts.

As with many other similar galleries, she was getting fucked hard -- a big cock was pounding in and out of her pussy, glistening with her juices, while the male model was cupping one of her breasts that had been exposed through her tight collared shirt. There was clear passion in the images -- I never enjoyed the conveyor-belt porn, where the pussies were dry and the facial expressions absent or clearly faked. This was not one of them -- if the two actors weren't enjoying this immensely, then they were damned good actors.

I was sitting there on my couch, cock in hand, and extremely aroused -- but this time, the male model didn't represent me -- it was a stranger, fucking my wife, making her moan, making her tremble as she climaxed, making her pussy so wet that it was running down her inner thighs. It was a strange sensation -- I had rarely been so aroused while alone as I was now -- the thought of her being so turned on that she was soaking wet and craving cock -- any cock -- was so powerful that I couldn't hold it any longer.

When I finally came, I brushed it off as a one-time thing. It felt strange to me, to be turned on by this. How could this possibly happen -- she was mine, and I was the only one who was allowed to taste her pussy and make her cum.

This is not something I had ever thought about before, let alone fantasized about -- it took some time getting used to it. But it kept coming back. Every time I sat down to jerk off, the fantasy came back -- it evolved from being her bent over a desk, to her being fucked at a party, in someone else's bed, wherever. When I was cumming, the image in my head was of her soaking wet panties clinging to her smooth pussy, still agape from a good fucking.

It was never a cheating or a cuckolding fantasy -- I was always supportive, possibly driving it, and what got me off was her pleasure -- there was no humiliation here. After a while I got accustomed to these fantasies -- they were there when I masturbated, and many of my sex dreams were of her fucking other men. The scenarios were different, but I was always aware, and turned on -- sometimes I was listening over the phone, sometimes I was hiding in a closet, sometimes she did it while out at night, and then came home so aroused that we fucked for hours. But it was always good -- each dream, each fantasy she was horny, happy and wanted to fuck me even more.

This fantasy became so prevalent, that it got to a point where I felt I was being dishonest with her by not sharing these thoughts, so one night, after a long night of drinking, I did. She was surprised, but took it very well. She was flattered by the fact that my biggest turn-on was her pleasure, but being rather sexually conservative, it was a very foreign idea for her to be with other men than her husband. Sure, she liked flirting with friends, strangers and colleagues, but never anything more than that.

We continued discussing this into the small hours of the morning, and we ended up discussing all of the men she had slept with before me -- the sizes of their cocks, their techniques, everything (I do not feel threatened by any of her previous partners, since I have taken her sexuality to a new level compared to them) -- this aroused me beyond anything I had tried before, and the sex that night was amazing.

None of this did anything to dispel my fantasies -- they continued uninterrupted, and still do to this day. It was brought up regularly during sex, though it was mostly me just telling about the numerous dreams and fantasies I had had. "I dreamt that I came home and you were fucking a guy upstairs", or "I dreamt that you brought someone back to your hotel room when at a conference and fucked him" kind of thing. I had always secretly hoped there would be some role playing involved though -- I realized these fantasies would never happen in reality, so role playing would be the next best thing -- her giving me a hand job or riding me while telling me that she just got back from fucking someone, or even how she wanted to be fucked by someone. I'm not sure how long I'd be able to hold it in if that happened, but it never did.

In her profession, she was often away at conferences in other countries. These things were just a few days long, and full of doctors and medical students. Anyone familiar with that profession knows that the second they have the chance; everyone is trying to get into each other's panties -- probably not that unique, now that I think of it. My wife though was always faithful -- she was relentlessly pursued by her colleagues, but never faltered, and I love her to death for that.

After I began sharing my fantasies though, she started enjoying the flirtation a bit more -- while before she would feel guilty about flirting and getting aroused and keep it to herself, now she enjoyed it and fed off of it. If she was at home, she would come home from an event and fuck my brains out -- if she was at a conference, she would get back to the hotel room and pleasure herself (which also turned me on immensely), and when she finally got back to our apartment after a weekend of arousal, we'd have the most amazing sex. Her flirtations became a lubricant to our sex life, and they not only served to feed my desires a bit, but boosted her confidence as well, and a confident woman is as sexy as they come, so there were no complaints from me.

Obviously when she went away, my fantasies would almost get out of control. I would masturbate several times a day, secretly hoping she would text me and say she was out dancing and really wanted to fuck someone. That of course never happened, since she is the type of woman who needs to have an emotional connection with someone she decides to fuck. Every now and then though, she'd text me that she was very turned on and lying on her bed fingering herself. If I was at home, that was an instant arousal -- if I was out, I had to hurry home to take care of business, imagining her lying naked on a hotel bed, legs spread wide and her pussy all wet. I'd imagine the taste of her pussy, which was one of my favorite things, and I'd imagine her reaching full orgasm with my head buried between her legs.

One summer came along, and she was called to Florence for a 3-week long conference. I was invited to come along, but couldn't due to work. As soon as she had left for Italy, my fantasies started popping up at the most inconvenient times -- standing in line at the supermarket, servicing a customer at work etc. I knew it was hot down there, and that she would be wearing small summer dresses, with nothing but a thong underneath -- her beautiful breasts were more than capable of holding themselves and the dresses up, and the thought of her nipples getting erect while unprotected was incredible. I pictured her dancing on a hot summer night, with some man grinding against her and caressing her as much as she would allow it. I pictured them walking back to her hotel room, him coming in for a drink, and then a kiss. It would take nothing more than sliding two straps to the side to drop her dress and expose her breasts, leaving her standing there, completely exposed in nothing but a small thong.

I pictured them kissing, hands and fingers everywhere, her desperately unzipping his pants to get at his hard cock, and him feverishly groping her breasts, letting his hands wander until one cupped a breast, and one had slid inside her panties, now caressing her bald and very wet pussy. And then her, lying on her back, legs spread wide open, and her pussy hungrily swallowing his cock.

Anyway -- you know the rest. This scenario played itself out over and over again in my head -- every time I masturbated (at least twice a day), there they were, fondling, kissing, fucking. It was fantastic while it was happening -- as soon as I came though, the excitement was replaced with a "meh" -- I knew this would never happen. She was far too conservative, and was simply not as sexually adventurous as I thought would be required to take this step.

We spoke daily while she was down there. Every night was a party -- all the doctors were up until about 4 in the morning, every morning, and she was the center of attention. Yeah, that didn't help to quell my fantasies. There were a couple of guys who were very interested, and they were making it very clear that they wanted to be let into her room one of these nights. I knew she appreciated this, and was turned on by this, and I figured that when she got home in the evenings, her fingers found their way to her pussy, and she pleasured herself while imagining being fucked by one (or both) of them. This of course was also a huge turn on for me, and helped me through some of the lonelier nights.

About half-way through her trip, she was on the train to Rome where she was headed to see a friend from grade school. This was the first time away from the group in Florence, and she was looking forward to getting some time away from the non-stop partying and attention. While on the train, I got a text from her. It wasn't preceded by anything, just out of the blue. All it said was "for the first time in my life, I wanted to fuck another guy, just for the sex".

Well, my heart skipped a beat, and I got hard -- instantly. I had to know more. I asked if it was someone specific -- it was. There was someone at the conference she was at, that had shown a lot of interest in her. He turned her on to a point where she wanted to fuck him -- she had had to stop dancing with him the night before out of fear that she wouldn't be able to control herself.

I was speechless, enormously aroused and excited. Was my wife finally opening up to the idea that sex can be just that, sex, and that you didn't need a painstakingly built emotional bond in order to fuck? This is something we had spoken of many times -- she understood how I could want to fuck someone just for the fun of it, but she herself couldn't see that happening. She needed a "connection".

She got to Rome shortly thereafter, and we didn't discuss this for a whole day. It took all my self-control not to bombard her with texts about this, but it was important that she enjoyed her day in Rome, and didn't feel any sort of pressure from me. On her way back to Florence the next day though, I asked her if she was looking forward to seeing this guy again. She said she was, but that I shouldn't be silly -- she didn't even know why she told me that -- nothing would ever happen.

I figured as much, and didn't expect this to go any further -- I also let it stand -- I didn't want to be 'that' guy, constantly bringing up some childish fantasy and even appearing to pressure her -- if anything did happen someday, it would have to be entirely on her own accord -- I couldn't appear to pressure her into anything.

That same night at around midnight, I got a text from my wife that she was at another party, and had had a few drinks and was having fun. She missed me, she said, and wished I was waiting for her in her room, because she wanted to get fucked -- she had been on the dancefloor for the last two hours and was wet from all the attention. Apparently she had been missed! After a few messages back and forth, I learned that she was wearing a small summer dress, a lacy push-up bra and some very small, red panties that I had bought for her last year. I knew exactly which ones she was talking about, and I had vivid recollections of those exact panties soaked with my cum and bunched up in between her pussy lips I had fucked her. I also knew that she only wore panties like that if she was horny and feeling sexy and desired, so that dialed it up a notch for me.

I learned that it was in particular one male colleague who was showering her with attention, and who had a difficult time keeping his hands to himself. On the dancefloor, he had been tracing the line of her panties with his hands, and seemed impressed by their small size, and his hands had brushed against her breasts on more than one occasion -- not accidents for sure. While sitting on a barstool, he had been standing next to her, and had rested his right hand on her thigh -- after someone bumped into him, his hand was suddenly caressing her inner thigh, only inches from her pussy. That's when she had to run out to the garden to call me.

I told her that there was nothing I'd rather do than slip that little dress off of her shoulders, kiss her breasts and eat her out until she screamed of pleasure -- then I'd fuck her hard until we both collapsed. She told me that was very cruel of me to say to her, because that made her even more aroused, and that now she was could feel that her panties were soaked. I figured what the hell, and texted her back that there were several guys there that would kill to fuck her that night -- one of which you even want to fuck.

I was taking a bit of a chance writing that message -- odds were that she would get annoyed that I would suggest that, and she would never confide in me with that kind of thing again. I feared that is what happened, because for the next ten minutes, I stared at my phone and it was silent -- not text, no call, no nothing. I pictured her night ruined by me being an idiot, and that she had just gone to bed frustrated.

After what felt like an hour, the phone beeped, and the message read "I don't know if you're joking or not -- would you really be ok with me fucking another man?" At this point I figured it would be best to call -- this kind of thing shouldn't happen over text. I called her and she picked up immediately.

I told her that I loved her, and that the fact that she was out and with wet panties aroused me beyond belief, and I asked her if she was somewhere private. She was in a far, dark corner of the yard she told me -- I asked her to confirm if she was still wet by lifting up her skirt and inserting two fingers into her pussy. She followed my instructions and confirmed that she was still dripping wet, and that the fingers went in without any problem.

I asked her if she wanted to be fucked. She said yes, by you honey. I said that I couldn't be there -- was there someone else she wanted to be fucked by? After what felt like an eternity of silence, a timid "yes" and a slight moan came through the line -- I assumed she was still fingering herself.

I told her that I would like that, if she really wanted to -- I didn't want her to have to go to sleep without getting fucked -- she was standing there in a foreign garden, fingers exploring her soaking wet pussy, and I didn't want that wetness to go to waste. She uttered "wow", in disbelief, and said she was now even more turned on by the fact that I wanted this to happen, and that she loved me more than she thought possible -- to her this was the most generous action from a loved one -- allowing her to follow through when a carnal desire reared its lustful head.

She still had her fingers buried in her pussy, and this talk had brought her to the brink of an orgasm. It only took a minute of moaning on the phone before I heard the phone get dropped on the grass and heard the unmistakable sounds of my wife cumming. After she gathered herself again, she picked up the phone and just said "wow" again. She was clearly in a good place -- slightly taken aback by the situation, but turned on to a point where she hadn't been before. Only once in our relationship had we had sex in public, and she had certainly never masturbated in a public place before, so even this was a big step for her. If this is where the night ended, it would still be a win for her evolving sexuality, but the excitement of what was to come seemed to spur her on.

Since it appeared that we were moving forward with this agreement, we then discussed ground rules -- use a condom, and as soon as the act is over, have him leave. I couldn't handle the idea of them spending the night together. This was to be a pure carnal act -- she was to fuck him and get fucked, nothing more - the intimacy of holding your loved one throughout the night and waking up next to them is at an entirely different level than fucking someone. I realize this may sound odd to most, but to me there was a clear separation, and I was to be the only one to wake up to her beautiful smile and morning breath.

Also, I wasn't too thrilled with the idea of her sucking his cock -- but I also didn't want to put a damper on the experience and become too controlling, so if she got to a point where she was so turned on that she wanted his cock in her mouth, she was free to do that -- but it was strictly forbidden for him to cum anywhere but in the condom. Not on her breasts, in her pussy and certainly not in her mouth -- actually no kind of cumshot at all -- that privilege is and will always be reserved for me!

I made sure that this would happen as per my fantasies -- that I wouldn't hear the details until she was at home, in our bed, giving me a handjob or riding my cock. She was concerned that I could wait that long -- after all, she wouldn't be back home for another 24 hours. I assured her I could handle it, told her I loved her more than I could ever describe, and wished her luck.