Acting out a Fantasy

My heart stopped.

I was always so careful. I was a pro at this. I was shocked I didn't hear him coming this time. I was—I was face down on the bed with my own panties in my mouth, my right arm woven underneath my body between my legs to keep the vibrating bullet in place—THAT place—and he just stared at me with his mouth gaping while the steam from the shower he had just left dispersed behind him.

Tense from being caught in such a state I had to make my jaw relax enough to let the panties drop to the bed below.

A soft and uncertain "Hi" escaped my lips, and the corners of his mouth turned up into just enough of a smile to let me know I hadn't gone too far.

"Been reading a little too much Literotica?" he asked.

My husband knew I had the higher sex drive; we had discussed this. He knew I masturbated while he was in the shower; we had discussed this too. He also knew I had some pretty crazy, far-out-there fantasies about bondage, exhibitionism and force for we had discussed this as well. My husband was many things: strong, handsome, intelligent, funny and, above all else, understanding. He had tried on more than one occasion to act out my fantasies with me, but his gentle nature made it impossible for him to even pretend to force me into anything that seemed to make me uncomfortable, and his comedic presence meant that we both broke character too easily to complete any type of scenario successfully. Our sex life was in no danger, so I stopped pushing for his involvement. When the free time presented itself I browsed erotic literature and photos, adding to my own repertoire of fantasies to act out in my mind while I ... took care of myself in the mornings during his daily showers, which, today, resulted in me acting out a certain "Panty Mouth" story so enthusiastically, that I did not hear the shower cut off.

"Sorry," I said. "I know this looks really weird. I was just trying something new."

"Did you ... um ... did you like it?"

I suddenly became aware of the heat in my cheeks. Married to the man five years, and I'm still blushing over a conversation about sex.

"I kind of did," I explained. "But I know this stuff makes you uncomfortable. Can we just forget it and move on with our day?"

"Of course," he replied, smiling gently.

I busied myself with laying out my clothes for the day. We would be heading out of town for Thanksgiving dinner with his family that evening. I chose a long black and white striped skirt and a form-fitting black top to achieve a comfortable yet elegant look for the day's tasks. I also pulled out a simple beige bra and beige panties and tossed them on the bed before stepping into the shower. I returned from the shower moments later to find my everyday bra and panties replaced with my black and pink lace bra and matching panties. I paused at the edge of the bed, excited by what this meant. This was like something a dom would do to his sub in one of my stories and was most definitely out of character for my gentlemanly husband. The excitement was mixed with apprehension that left a small knot in my stomach. What, if anything, does he have planned after this?

Our three hour road trip began without much ceremony, and I quickly became lost in my fantasy world, reliving some of my favorite scenarios. A full half-hour from our hometown husband breaks the silence from the driver's side.

"You're going to want to be wet."

I glanced over quickly and expressed my many questions with only a puzzled look and a wrinkled brow.

"By the next mile marker," he said. "You're going to want to be wet because I'm going to bend you over the center console and fuck you."

The air in my lungs caught and my vision went blurry for just a moment, as I realized he was serious. Though the usual gentleness in his voice remained there was also a new firmness that made it clear this was not a discussion. It was daylight. The road was lightly trafficked but only two lanes. I was wearing a skirt and was aware how easy the access would be. Put simply: I had no trouble meeting his demand as I now felt my body warm to a flame behind the lacy panties. The thought of the exposure out here combined with this forceful man I loved who had demanded sex from me in this moment had me soaked within seconds. It was exciting, it was scary, it was—about to happen. There was the mile marker.

And there went my air again. The car pulled to the shoulder at the mile marker. I locked eyes with my husband, and tunnel vision blocked out everything else. I heard the console drop between us. He simply nodded at me and directed his eyes to the console in a quick motion. I pulled my skirt up enough to straddle the console over the middle seat.

"Grab the handle bars on the back of each seat and lean forward," he directed. "You will not move out of this position, and you will not let go of those handle bars until I tell you to."

My right hand moved to the right handle bar behind the driver's seat. My left hand moved to the handle bar behind the passenger's seat. My head hung over the back seat, dropping lower as his hands raised my skirt up past my knees, my thighs, then my ass and let it rest on my lower back. So far—no cars.

"Hope you followed my instructions," he said as he used a finger to push my panties inside me. I gasped at the friction. In and out went his finger; in and out went the black and pink lace. This new sensation left me writhing until it ceased. Leaving me little time to recover, he lifted me up at the waist and slid my underwear down to my knees and over my left foot, followed by my right. As I settled back onto my knees, I heard the first car. I looked up to see that it was traveling in our lane. With any luck the driver would not be able to see my now bare backside up in the air.

My husband leaned forward and reached around my mid-section to lift my shirt over my head and pull my bra down enough to expose my nipples. With a pinch and a pull for each, he straightened back up and without warning impaled me with his dick. I hadn't even heard him unzip. He must have done it as the car passed. He slammed into me forcefully, making it difficult to maintain my grip on the handle bars. On the next thrust, I dropped my hands from the handle bars and gripped the back seat.

"Handlebars," was all he said as he let his open hand land hard across my exposed right cheek.

Back into position I worked harder to do as he asked. I gladly submitted to his forcefulness and found myself so turned on that I let out several loud moans and finally a scream as a second car passed, coinciding with my orgasm. He leaned forward, still thrusting, and gave my nipples another pinch, another pull, and a third car passed. The threat of exposure was exciting but even in my delirium of another mounting orgasm I knew that there was little way to see what we were doing with my husband pants up and me ducked down in the back seat. Still, though, it was exciting enough that I let loose with my second orgasm as my husband's warm cum filled me, and he let out a satisfied groan.

As he withdrew, a good bit of cum spilled out with him and ran down my slit. It was time for the one part of sex I'm not fond of—the clean up. I let go of the handlebars and began to back into the front seat again.

"Handlebars."

Then smack! An open hand came to a quick rest on my left cheek.

"Somebody let the power go to his head," I thought to myself and settled back into my position—knees on either side of the console, ass in the air, hands on the handlebars, head over the back seat and breasts swinging freely over the floorboard.

This time I heard the zipper as my husband readjusted himself, but I was quickly surprised again by a finger re-entering me. The insertion caused more juices to escape, and they began to trickle down my legs. I felt two fingers from each of hands —the thumb and forefinger—pinch away a bit of the viscous and quickly cooling fluid. Both hands quickly found their way to my exposed, hanging breasts caught between my bra and my shirt. His thoroughly wetted thumbs and forefingers massaged my nipples briefly—a little too briefly as my nipples were left cold and quite wet when he removed his hands.

"Was that good?" he asked.

"It was very good," I replied.

"How good?"

"It wa—"

At that moment my panties, crotch first, were shoved into my mouth. It was a good thing I was speechless because anything I had to say would not have been heard anyway.

My mind was racing. We had already had sex, yet the panties made me have to wonder if this was just round one of whatever he had planned. I didn't have to wonder for long. Still gripping the back handlebars, still lifting my ass in the air, still dripping with cum, I felt the car begin to pull away from the side of the road.

Three cars had already passed, but I had been mostly blocked by my husband's body. Now I was—oh my God. I was so exposed. The console between my knees left my most intimate parts splayed open for anyone to see. The cum dripping from me made me feel so dirty. Now that we were moving I couldn't hear the cars anymore. Had anyone passed us? Were they paying attention? Could they see? What would happen if—

HONK! HONK-HONK!

My husband chuckled. "There goes one truck driver who will have a story to tell his buddies."

Out of embarrassment I tucked my ass down below the cover of the dashboard.

"I wouldn't do that," my husband admonished. "Display that pussy I just fucked or I will drive you through a busy parking lot in the next town I see.

This was humiliating yet still the most exciting thing I had ever done. I was still turned on. I let out a little moan through my gagged mouth and pushed my backside up even higher.

My husband responded by resting his right hand on my lower back and drawing his finger through the juices that still ran down me. His finger made a trip back up my slit again, dragging the moisture with it and landing just outside my asshole. A couple of slow circles around the opening, and I knew what he'd try next. As he slipped it inside, I discovered another new sensation I liked as my nerve endings reacted to the fullness of this foreign object circling inside me.

He removed his finger just before the car left the pavement and hit a gravel driveway. The car came to a stop.

"You may release the handlebars and sit up," he ordered. "Put your hands behind your head."

I did as instructed, and my skirt fell into place finally giving me some coverage. With my hands behind my head, however, my breasts were still out in the open. After giving each nipple one last pinch and pull for good measure, my husband replaced the cups of my bra over my exposed breasts and pulled my shirt back down over my head.

"We have arrived for dinner," he explained. "We will go in now, and you may not clean yourself until you have made the rounds and said hello to everyone. Do you understand?"

I tried to say, "yes," but with the panties still in my mouth, all I managed was a muffled grunt and a nod.

"Good. Let's go," he said.

My eyes widened, and I shook my head. I couldn't get out of the car in front of his family's house with panties in my mouth. That's not sexy, that's humiliating.

"Just so you know, I've been reading up on this Literotica site of yours, and I have some very creative ideas on how to punish a sub who denies a request," he said firmly. "Now, step out of the car."

With my brain screaming, "NO," I put my hand on the door handle and met the cool November air as I opened the door. I put one shaky foot on the gravel drive, then another. My husband met me on my side of the car and gave me his arm for the walk to the door. My knees shook and grew weaker with each step. By the time we reached the door I was near convulsions.

His hand reached for knob of the closed wooden door. My stomach turned, my vision blurred and panic took complete hold of me. Just then he stopped and turned toward me.

"Did I do a good job," he asked, "with your fantasies?"

I nodded enthusiastically, my eyes wide and pleading.

"From now on will you include me in acting out your fantasies instead of doing it behind my back while I'm in the shower?"

I hung my head as pangs of guilt and shame hit me. I nodded again, and he held out his left hand. "Spit," he said.

I used my tongue to work those damn panties out of my mouth. They fell into his open palm, and he put them into his pocket. He put his right hand behind my head and pulled me in close to him, kissing my forehead.

He turned towards the door once again and opened it for me. "We're here!" he called.

"Hope you guys are hungry," his dad called from the kitchen.

"I'll bet my lovely bride is starving," my husband teased. "She's hardly had anything in her mouth all day."