14 comments/ 75281 views/ 31 favorites Dream Fantasy By: PhilFluter I knew of her when I was a teenager but I first met my wife, Jackie when I was twenty-one. I was an inexperienced young man who, despite three years in the armed forces had not really discovered the delights and mysteries of the opposite sex other than a few fumbling, embarrassed and rather drunken moments at parties. Jackie was five years older than me and was recovering from an abusive marriage. Although the marriage had lasted only two years, she was pretty scarred by the experience. I later discovered that she found my innocence and inexperience appealing and to use her words, my gentleness, attentiveness and caring nature was a complete contrast to the man she had recently left. She seduced me on our first date but from the outset she made it clear that the relationship that was slowly developing was for her, nothing more than a short-term fling, exorcising painful memories and experiences. Yet almost without realising it our feelings grew stronger and stronger and after six months we decided we wanted to spend our lives together or to at least give our relationship a chance to succeed. At first, engagement was out of the question. She was convinced that it was getting married that had turned her ex-husband into an unfeeling brute who had subsequently treated her as if she were his property. She particularly resented the fact that she had been unable to go anywhere or see anyone without his approval. She finally left when the vicious verbal abuse turned physical. However, even those deep-seated fears were eventually overcome and three years after first meeting, we were married. By our wedding day I thought we knew all there was to know about each other. She was aware that I had had only one previous girlfriend. I knew that Jackie had lost her virginity to an older man at 17 and had become engaged to the same man soon after. Although that relationship had not survived, after a few years she had taken up with another local guy and had again became engaged and married soon after. I figured therefore, that despite the failed marriage, we were similarly experienced in respect to the opposite sex and in an odd way I felt that we were starting out married life on an even footing. We would move forward and learn the secrets of the bedroom together. From the beginning, married sex was fantastic, although with the benefit of hindsight I can see that it was also somewhat conventional. I had no complaints and felt life was treating me well. I had a beautiful wife and a good job that unfortunately began to take me away from home on a regular basis. Although always a little downcast at my departure, my homecoming was always something to which I looked forward to with anticipation. My suitcase would hardly touch the floor before we were in bed, sometimes making love but often simply having a hard and desperate fuck. I have always had a thing for a woman in lingerie and my wife was sometimes happy to oblige, electing on those special occasions to wear stockings with matching corset and suspenders. Without exception, this had the inevitable effect of lifting my already elevated libido to even greater heights. I know that memories of my wife lying sensuously on top of the silken sheets, wearing revealing and highly erotic underwear will stay with me all of my life, however long that may prove to be. The sex was great and we couldn't get enough of each other. The idea of sharing my wife with another man had never entered my mind, but perhaps unusually, I do remember the very day or more correctly the very night that it did. I was staying in a very ordinary hotel in Carlisle, directly opposite the railway station. I had chosen that particular hotel simply because it was close to the rail station and on the following day I was due to catch an early morning train that would get me to my home in Plymouth around 7.00 pm. Before turning in, I made my customary telephone call home, exchanging the news of the day with my wife and confirming that I would be arriving home the next day. My wife did not like to engage in any kind of erotic talk on the telephone but unusually she did drop some unambiguous hints about how much see was looking forward to seeing me. I went to sleep with thoughts of my wife and anticipating our impending reunion the following day. I do not know why this night was different than any other, but I awoke just after midnight with a raging erection and a vivid memory of a dream in which I had witnessed my wife being thoroughly fucked by another man. I remembered the scene as if it had just been played out in front of me, which I suppose in many respects it had. In the dream, I had been standing no more than a few feet away from a low couch, unable to move or speak; a mute but interested witness. My darling wife was laying on her back on the couch, with her legs spread impossibly wide and straight, not even a hint of a flex in her knees. She was wearing the same underwear she had worn the last time we had made love; black lacy stockings and suspenders, along with a pair of stiletto sandals that always made her legs look long and sensual. The only addition to the ensemble that I did not recognise was a pair of black evening gloves that reached well above her elbows. Her satin-clad hands were clasped behind her head, the effect of which was to thrust her full breasts towards her lover, looking as if she was inviting a caress. I had never seen her nipples so hard and distended. Positioned in the missionary position between her legs was a man I recognised as a casual acquaintance from work. I knew nothing about him except that his name was Brandon. As I watched, he was clearly nearing his climax. His hands rested gently and tenderly on Jackie's pale bare shoulders, holding her down on the couch with a mixture of strength and weight. I watched as he threw back his head and arched his muscular back to an almost impossible degree as if trying to thrust his cock even deeper into my wife's receptive vagina. He let out a satisfied growl and at that moment he began filling my wife with his fertile semen. The blissful look on her face, as he repeatedly pumped his hard cock inside her soft and yielding pussy was unforgettable. As she reached her own intense orgasm, Brandon removed his hands from her shoulders allowing her to lift her head slightly so that she was able to suckle on her lover's nipples; she seemed determined to satisfy the young man's passion and would stop at nothing in order to do so. The feel of her hot mouth on his sensitive areola took him to new heights, intensifying an already mind blowing experience. As his climax slowly subsided all movement on the couch ceased. The only noise was that of my wife's tongue flicking across his nipples with an occasional obscene slurping noise as she tried to suck it deep into her hungry mouth. In slow motion, he eased himself off my wife, and she reluctantly allowed his nipple to slip from her mouth. I noticed that it was shiny with her saliva and fully erect, glistening in the light of a small table lamp, the only source of illumination in the room. As his cock slipped from her stretched and slick pussy, I was mesmerized at its immense size and girth. My wife looked up longingly at a cock that was considerably bigger than my own feeble offering, and it broke my heart when he eased his hips towards her face and I saw my wife purse her lips and plant a wet kiss on the purple head. The intimate act produced an appreciative grunt from her partner. Pleased with his reaction she stuck out her little, pink tongue to lick around the mushroom shaped head. This was the same mouth and tongue that I had lovingly kissed and sucked on so many times, now smothered in another man's semen. My wife hated the taste of semen, yet here she was sucking and licking at the thick, viscous fluid on his cock as if it was nectar. I thought my pain could not get any worse until I saw her open her mouth wide to allow his still rock hard cock to ease irresistibly into her throat. It continued without pausing in its invasion of my wife's throat until his plum-like balls were resting on her chin. With that final act of betrayal, he seemed satisfied and looked towards me with an arrogant smirk. She had demonstrated her adoration of his penis and she had willingly and enthusiastically degraded herself in front of her husband. His superiority proven, without ceremony he pulled his cock from her body and lifted himself free of her. I again marvelled at his size and wondered at how my wife could accommodate such a monster either in her pussy or her mouth. Frighteningly, it still appeared engorged and ready for more action. However, this time he reached for his trousers pulling them on in one easy movement. As he turned to leave, he casually thanked her and told her that her husband was a lucky man. He gave me a disdainful glance as he left. The look on my wife's face had remained the same as it had during their lovemaking. She looked totally satisfied and serene and with a sense of anguish I realised I had not seen that look before. I had never satisfied her in such a way. She seemed in no hurry to move as if challenging me to react as any husband should when he discovered his wife in such a compromising situation. I remained frozen to the spot and as so often happens in dreams, I was unable to speak or move my limbs, despite a desperate desire to do so. Jackie's legs remained spread and I saw that the rather sparse hair on her pubis was matted flat and slick with an unlikely amount of semen. If this was the amount of cum that he had deposited on her as he pulled out, then how much had he pumped inside her? Languidly, she removed the glove on her left hand and having done so allowed her fingers to explore the sticky mess between her legs, relishing the way it clung to her fingers, at times making them look as if they were webbed with a delicate, translucent film. She looked up at me for the first time, her expression suggesting that this was the most natural of situations. She showed me her semen-coated wedding ring and it was when she looked at me and started to raise her fingers to her mouth that I awoke. So it was that I found myself sitting bolt upright in my bed, bedding thrown back and my wide eyes staring into the dimly lit hotel room. I was immediately aware of my erection. Such was the extent of my arousal I could feel the throbbing pulse in my painfully erect cock. I had never seen the head of my cock so taut and shiny or my shaft so thick and engorged. My stomach had twisted into a knot and my heart was pounding in my chest as I recalled every detail of my wife and lovers imaginary tryst. Unable to stop myself, I curled my fingers around my cock and began to masturbate. It took just seconds before the first powerful spurts of semen were projected over my head and splashed against the wall, landing there with a dull thud. Subsequent spasms were less powerful, but even they were still strong enough to shower my face and chest with thick and pungent strings. I could not recall ever having had such an intense orgasm. As I began to recover, my mind was in turmoil and the knotted sensation in my stomach persisted. I was convinced that my wife had indeed been unfaithful and this was not merely some random dream. Similarly, the feeling of intense jealousy that I had experienced while watching my faithless wife would not subside. I was fully awake and I told myself repeatedly not to be stupid. Intellectually I knew this to be of no significance and yet somewhere deep inside I suspected that this would prove to be a life changing experience. Eventually I drifted back into a deep, dreamless sleep and woke the following morning feeling refreshed but still with a deep sense of unease. The memories of the night were as vivid as ever and it took all of my will power not to seek immediate relief from my obvious arousal. I went to breakfast as planned and arrived at the railway station in plenty of time to catch my train. Throughout the journey I was unable to read my book. I was confused and unsure of what to do about this newly discovered and unexpected erotic revelation. In truth, I knew I was a jealous man when it came to my wife and the idea of meekly standing by while watching my wife fuck another man was ludicrous and yet each time I thought of it my stomach flipped over. Clearly, Jackie would be oblivious to the dream sequence and no doubt would greet me as she had always done. Such was the extent of my disquiet I was even concerned about how I would react to her. It was if, for the moment, I could not differentiate between dream and reality. As it turned out there was no need for concern. My wife was waiting for me, co-incidentally and disturbingly wearing the black lingerie of the dream. I was almost relieved to see that she had not added evening gloves to her wardrobe. As I made love to her, images of her legs invitingly spread apart for Brandon kept coming unbidden into my mind and I could not deny that the effect was explosive. Although I did not know it at the time, those images would persist for many years and fuelled a fantasy that from that day forward, provided me with erotic material on which my imagination could draw during the long and lonely nights away from home. Equally, the memory of my almost perfect hotel room orgasm remained and though I constantly strove to recapture its force and intensity, it eluded me for some time. That is how the idea of me being turned on by thinking of my wife in the arms of another man arose. That was twenty-five years ago and in the intervening years the story developed in stages, little by little; piece by piece. At first, I was content with keeping this clandestine and I felt, shameful fantasy, to myself. I could not understand my feelings, but there was no denying the fact that when I thought of my wife with another man, the butterflies and knotted stomach would return along with an erection more appropriate to a man half my age. A lack of understanding that is, until I came across the Literotica web site some years later. Until then I had no idea my fantasy was common enough to warrant its very own section on the index page and I eagerly read the stories about faithless wives and cuckolded husbands. The realisation that at least I was not the only husband to have such perverted thoughts regarding their wife, was a comfort and served to ease my guilt. However, even with this knowledge, I was still inclined to suppress my thoughts and told myself that broaching the subject with Jackie could cause irreparable damage to our marriage. I certainly had no thoughts of trying to act out the fantasy, as I was confident that I would be unable to handle such a situation. With this new understanding, I was content to maintain the status quo. I even made a pact with myself to never confess my secret desires to my wife. However, unexpectedly, it was Jackie who caused the whole issue to surface once again. It happened one afternoon. Jackie and I had just finished making love and were engaged in some light-hearted pillow talk, reminiscing about the circumstances of how we had originally got together. In all innocence, I said that I thought the fact that we had both been relatively inexperienced when we first met had been a good starting point and that it had helped us to become the couple that we now were. Her reply stunned me: " I wouldn't be so sure about that." She suggested. From nowhere an overwhelming sense of panic descended on me and I struggled to maintain an outward display of calm. I knew Jackie well enough to know that if I reacted badly she would clam up and I would never hear what she may be about to confess. I waited with my heart pounding and struggling for breath, determined to give her the opportunity to continue, hopefully in an uninhibited and honest fashion. She watched me closely obviously trying to assess my reaction. Apparently satisfied with what she saw she continued; "There is something I need to tell you." Another pause, but this one lasted what seemed like an eternity. "I have wanted to tell you for years but could never bring myself to do it; I told you that I had been with just two men before we met, but there was more than two." Panic threatened to overcome me. It rose like bile in my stomach and up into my throat, which tightened in anticipation and fear of what I feared I was about to hear. I thought I would be unable to speak but somehow managed to croak a weak and very predictable question; "How many, then?" Now it was she who appeared nervous. Despite my best effort she had sensed my unease and I saw regret flash across her face, replaced almost immediately by a look of steely determination. I had seen this look before. I knew now that she would continue with her revelation, but to what extent she would now modify her announcement would be difficult to judge. "I'm not sure, a few, it was a long time ago, perhaps ten maybe twelve". My wife had been twenty-six when we met; she had lost her virginity when she was 17. Without thinking, I could not help but do the calculations in my head. That was less than one man every 8 months. Best to ignore the two years she was married as it complicated things too much. Hardly a slutty tart then, but neither was she the inexperienced woman I thought she had been. Why then did my world feel like it was collapsing around me? Was my ego really so fragile? This was a rather unremarkable confession about events that had taken place over twenty years ago. She was my loving wife and the mother of our child. Inexplicably and to my disgust, my fragile control crumbled, I buried my face in my hands and felt my shoulders slump. My usual confident manner evaporated and was gone in an instant. Instinctively I knew why. I had always felt that Jackie was in a different league to me. She was indeed a beautiful woman, petite with a slender and desirable figure. Some might say she was too good for me and this revelation in some way proved it. I understood even then that this was irrational, but as a youth, I had considered her as part of a relatively prominent group of people, well known in our small village community. A group of people who I had regarded as mature adults, businessmen and women, professionals, including doctors and chemists, when I was still a spotty adolescent, little more than a child. By the time we had formed a relationship the age difference was irrelevant but the psychological damage had been inflicted before our relationship had even commenced and I had not even been aware of it. She had moved in circles to which I felt I was not welcome. The fact that she had moved out of those circles to allow me to court her had always surprised me but equally had given me a sense of satisfaction that for some inexplicable reason, I thought to be ephemeral and transient. All this flashed through my mind in an instant. My immediate reaction was to demand details. What kind of relationships had she had? Exactly how many different men had she had, was it ten or twelve? Was it just sex? Did she love any of them? Which was better, casual sex or a loving relationship that she had kept hidden? How quickly had she entered into a sexual relationship? She had virtually seduced me on the first date so did she do the same with these other men? Did she give them blowjobs before intercourse? Did she swallow their semen when she refused to do so with me? Moreover, perhaps the most important question of all, why was her past so important to me? My thoughts became crude and I tortured myself with imagined details. There were too many questions but I could not help myself. She tried to answer honestly and candidly but she soon saw that she could never satisfy my aggressive curiosity and the more she tried to answer with simple details the more upset I was getting. Dream Fantasy Where was I? I couldn't tell, I felt like I knew this place, but I couldn't get myself to remember it. I was in a dark room, well it seemed dark to my eyes, but I wasn't sure. Everything seemed so blurry; it looked like I was in a garage, or maybe an old storage place. There was a car parked in there, but there was no one around, or so I thought. "Emma, you're here", I heard a man say, I turned around but I couldn't see anything. "Who are you? Where are you? Why can't I see you?" I ask, starting to get panicked. "So many questions love, let's answer them one by one. First, you know who I am, Second, I'm right here, focus and you'll see me, just focus." The man said. His voice sent chills up to my spine, but I wasn't frightened of him. I did as I was told and started to focus, I knew I was dreaming so I thought that nothing would happen to me here. That's when I saw him, I forgot how to breathe, and everything around me seemed to fade. I could only see him, his blue eyes made me think of crystals, they looked so pure but at the same time so devilish. He had dark hair, almost black long enough for me to want to touch them. His face mesmerized me, I couldn't look away, who was he? As if he read my thoughts, he started to walk towards me; my heart was pounding in my chest, I was beginning to be hot all over. He stopped when he was inches away from my face, I could feel his hot breathe, smell his musky sent. He bent down so his lips were almost touching mine; "touch me, I know you're craving it", he whispered softly before kissing me gently. In a dream, you aren't supposed to feel anything, but his lips were burning on mine, and all my resistance melt away. My hands went to his hair, touching it, I pulled him closer to me, crashing my body into his, feeling his hands all over my body. I felt his hand gripping my bottom, grinding me against his erection. Damn, this guy was huge; I moaned against his mouth and bit softly on his lower lip which made him groan in satisfaction. He pushed me against the nearest wall, and ripped my tank top, his mouth found my nipple and he sucked hard into it, I moaned loudly and arched my back to him, showing him that I wanted so much more. He bit my nipple hard enough to make me scream not so much in pain, but more in pleasure. My panties were soaking wet, I ached down there and if he didn't do anything to help it, I thought I would die. "Please..." I begged, I wasn't the kind of girl who begged for anything, but right then, I needed relief. He looked at me and I saw heat and pure desire in his eyes. He was struggling as much as I was. "Please what Emma? Tell me what you want," he said in a low voice full of longing. "Fuck me, right here, right now, fuck me hard", I've never been so blunt in my life, but I needed to feel him inside me. I felt him move, he unzipped his pants and pushed them to his ankles, underneath his jeans, he was going commando, and boy this man was huge. He took off my short shorts I used to sleep and nestled himself between my legs. I felt his cock at the entrance of my folds. Right when he was going to push him, an alarm when off, he jerked back from me realising what he was about to do. "I'm sorry Emma, I got carried away, I have to go." He said pulling his pants off and running away. I woke up to the sound of my alarm going off, my heart was still hammering in my chest, from the dream I just had. Everything seemed so real; I still felt the burning touch of his hands on my body, the touch of his lips on my breast. One of the feelings I hated the most was waking up horny and needy, I felt like a slut, but the matter had to be taken care of. After stopping my alarm, I opened my nightstand drawer and took out my favourite purple vibrator, putted it on high speed and placed it on my clit. My panties were soaking wet, and I knew I wouldn't last long, the face of my beautiful stranger came to my mind, and I imagined what it would be like to be fucked seven ways to heaven by him. I wanted to feel his cock ripping me apart as he drove inside and out of me. I liked it rough, and I knew he would give it to me. While he fucked me hard and deep, he would take my breast into his mouth and suck hard on my nipples, then bite them. That thought sent me over the edge and I had to put my hand over my mouth to muffle my scream. After a quick shower, and getting dressed for college, I got downstairs in the kitchen to make breakfast, my sister was already there eating her breakfast. "Morning kiddo", she said smiling at me. It was only me and my sister in this house, my parents had died when I was 16, and since then my sister had been my legal tutor, she tried the best as she could to raise a broken teenager who just lost her parents, while dealing with her own grief as well. We had an older brother, who was 32, but he was in the army and we didn't see him as much as we wanted, but still kept in touch every week. Since my parent's tragic accident, we were on our own, but we got closer, and my brother and sister were my best friends. "Morning Sara, I am not a kiddo anymore, for you information I'm 21 year old, not twelve." I said, faking being irritated, but my sister knew better. "Yeah, you're right, you're not a kid anymore, but you're still a pain in my butt", she said laughing; I pretended to be offended and walk toward her. I hugged her from behind until she couldn't breathe right and gave her a wet kiss on the cheek. "I know you love me so much sis, but now because of you I'll be late to school and I didn't eat breakfast", I said, walking out of the house on my way to school. She yelled me to eat something on my way to school but I didn't bother answering her. I got into my first class just as the bell rang. I took my seat and tried my best to focus on my teacher. English literature was one of my favourite classes, yet today I couldn't seem to stay focus. My dream kept coming up to my mind, and the face of my beautiful stranger occupied most of my thoughts. I wish I could find a man who could make me feel the same way my beautiful stranger did with his wicked hands and tongue. The end of the class came faster than I thought, but even in the hallways I couldn't focus on anything else than my dream. Deep down, I wished everything was real. I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going, when suddenly I ran into a hard chest. I heard a low growl and hands came to steady me. "Watch your step woman, you don't want to get hurt by running into strangers, don't you?" I heard a man say. That voice, by brain took half a second to recognize it. I looked up to make sure I wasn't dreaming again. There he was, even more handsome than in my dreams. His crystal blue eyes were piercing into mine, while he had a wide smile plastered on his face. His smile alone made me melt away. His dark jeans were hanging low on his hips and he had a navy blue button up shirt, some chest hair peaking through the first two unbuttoned buttons. I didn't realise I was staring at him until I saw a frown on his forehead, but I still couldn't make a sound. "Hey are you alright? You look like you've seen a ghost." He said, looking at me with concern. "I...I'm alright thank you. I am sorry that I ran into you, I wasn't paying attention." I tried to say with as much confidence as I could. "It's ok, nobody's hurt and that's what matters. I'm Ethan by the way", he said extending his hand. I took his hand to shake it but as soon as I touched him, I felt electricity shoot all over my body. Ethan must have felt it too because he jerked his hand back quickly and shot me a confused look. "Do we know each other?" he asked looking at me straight in the eyes. Dream Fantasy She was suddenly conscious of her rather immodest position and she let her legs fall to the ground, stood up and allowed her skirt to cover her wet and rather red pussy. However as I zipped up my fly, I detected movement in my peripheral vision. I quickly turned to identify its source but saw nothing. Perhaps it was just a bird or a squirrel in one of the many trees that surrounded our garden. Checking my watch, I saw that my lunch break had finished ten minutes ago. Being the boss carried with it some privileges so I wasn't unduly concerned about being late. What did concern me however was the fact that as I got into my car to return to work, I casually glanced up at our neighbour's house, and saw Brian, our neighbour's son watching me from an upstairs window. As soon as he realised I was looking in his direction, he ducked down out of sight, unquestioningly the actions of a guilty person; or least of someone who did not want to be seen. Of course; I remembered too late, it was the start of the summer holidays and although local schools had not yet broken up, clearly Brian was home from university. Although I had only seen him at the front of the house, the opposite side to that of our garden, my heart missed a beat. Fantasies were all very well but the thought that we may have had an uninvited and as far as I was concerned, unwelcome audience was disconcerting. The movement I had earlier seen in my peripheral vision came to my mind and I tried in vain to convince myself that the movement had come from the garden and not from one of the neighbour's windows. I never mentioned my suspicions to Jackie, as I knew it would freak her out and anyway it could serve no useful purpose. I could only imagine how she would react if she knew her activities had been viewed by the strapping, twenty year old son of our close friends. My big concern was that like me, he had obtained a more permanent reminder of Jackie's performance. I was all too aware that like so many youngsters these days, he was seldom separated from his Blackberry. Even more worrying was the fact that when I had discussed the subject at length with him the previous Christmas, he told me was going to invest in a couple of separate lenses. He was a keen climber and was constantly seeing landscapes that he would like to photograph but he did not want the inconvenience of carrying a dedicated camera. He thought that a wide angle and telephoto lens that he could attach to his blackberry would be the perfect solution. As a very keen amateur photographer, I had been happy to give him advice. My worry now was that he had captured something far more interesting than any landscape. How I was going to broach the subject with him, if indeed I felt able to, was at present a conundrum. As it turned out, I had my opportunity some days later when Brian and I met in the queue at the post office. He was with his mother and since he didn't see me approaching he was unable to avoid me. I decided to press my advantage. I greeted them both warmly and asked Brian how long he had been home. "Just a few days" he replied cautiously. "Ah, I thought I saw you." I paused, allowing time for my comment to sink in. "Tell me," I asked, "did you ever get hold of those lenses we were talking about at Christmas". He coloured up immediately helping to confirm my suspicions. Before he could reply, Gill interjected and said that she and Mark had given him a telephoto lens for his birthday a few months earlier. "Have you used it much?" I asked as casually as I as could. Again, before he could answer Gill said they seemed to be permanently attached to his Blackberry at the moment as he was trying to capture pictures of wildlife in the back garden. My worst fears were being confirmed, but I persisted. "That's excellent," I said, "if you want you can borrow my hide so you can get some real close-ups." Gill couldn't help herself; she was always a bit of a chatterbox but this was like taking sweets from a child. "I wish he would, perhaps then he wouldn't spend so much time in our bedroom window". That was it then, as if I needed further confirmation: Brian had turned the colour of beetroot. He hadn't even spoken but I had learned all I needed to know. Moreover, I was sure he knew that I knew. I thought a few warning shots across his bow would not go amiss. "You are not thinking of doing anything with them are you, because if you are I am sure I give you some useful advice." He looked like a corned animal seeking a way out. "No, no" he stammered, "I have only taken a few practice pictures so that I can get used to the camera settings; they are just for me to play around with". It was the first time he had spoken! "Can I see them?" I asked innocently. "I have already deleted them," he replied lamely. Once again Gill cut in, "Not all of them, you've still got a few of the squirrel and you have that lovely picture of a woodpecker that you printed off, I think you are being too modest". Brian looked at the ground and mumbled something inaudible. He looked devastated. If he had hoped to avoid the subject of his clandestine photography, he was being thwarted at every turn, by his talkative mother. Of course, I did not have proof that he had photographs of my wife on his blackberry but at that moment, I would have bet my mortgage on it. Things were however about to get a whole lot worse for him, courtesy of his mum. Gill thought she was being friendly and helpful when she continued; "You've got your Blackberry with you, why don't you show Dave now. This queue is moving so slow it will help pass the time". I grinned at Brian. "Well how about it, after all you've seen mine". I was ostensibly referring to the previous Christmas when, as well as discussing photography, we had also looked at photos on my laptop; "how about letting me see yours". The innuendo was obvious and unimaginative but it had the desired effect. Gill giggled like a schoolgirl, "Ooh Dave, you are naughty". Little did she know I thought. Brian looked at me, his eyes pleading for release from this torture. I reflected on the fact that in such circumstances that it ought to have been me who was embarrassed. Had he been a more mature, streetwise person, the tables may well have been turned on me. I decided to taunt him no further and to perhaps, give Brian a reason to be grateful to me. "Its ok," I said, "I was only joking with you, besides I don't have the time at the moment." An idea occurred to me. I turned to Gill; "Actually, I was only after some stamps. I don't suppose you could get me ten 'first class' would you and perhaps Brian could pop them through our door later." Brian jumped at the opportunity to do something for me. I gave him the money and thanked him for his kindness. If Brian thought he could quietly slip the stamps through the letterbox without being noticed he was sadly mistaken. Jackie was out so when I heard a car pulling into the next door's drive I watched and waited for Brian to make the short walk to our front door. As he approached, I opened the door and greeted him as if I was surprised to see him. "Oh hello Brian, did you manage to get the stamps?" I asked cheerfully. He handed me the small book of first class stamps with a smile and his own greeting. He had now regained his composure and was once again the confident young man that Jackie and I had seen growing from an awkward teenager into a young man over the last five years. "I hope you didn't mind my teasing earlier." I apologised, "but I had no idea you had developed such an interest in wildlife photography. It is surprising what you can catch on film around here." I was of course testing him again and I studied his face closely for any further sign of guilt or embarrassment. "Yes," he said, "I've already had a few surprises myself," he replied confidently and with a hint of humour. "Ahh, I see" I replied. "Perhaps we could compare photographs sometime." To my surprise and without any hint of awkwardness he replied, "I think I may like that!" He turned on his heel and returned to his own house while I was left gazing at his retreating back, somewhat taken aback at this latest turn of events. Of course there was no question of either of us sharing photographs of that day, but I was now totally convinced that he possessed at least some pictures of Jackie. I went immediately to the back garden and stood on the spot where Jackie's chair had been positioned that day. I wanted to assess just what he could have seen and how good a view he would have had. I had to assume he was present for the whole show, from the opening of the box to when Jackie smoothed down her skirt at its conclusion. I was pleased that I was able to conclude that from behind a closed window, he would not have been able to see Jackie's face during her performance. That was some relief as I figured that if the pictures fell into the wrong hands, at least she would not be recognised; although I had no real fear that Brian would do anything with them other than keep them for his own use or interest. It was clear however that from his concealed vantage point he would have been able to see enough to be in no doubt about what had been happening that day in our back garden. There were no further developments, no guarded conversations or difficult meetings over the ensuing weeks. However once I got used to the idea of him having already 'participated' in our sex life, I started to weave Brian into some of my fantasies. I also decided to be a little mischievous and introduce Brian's name into our bedroom fantasy world. Soon after our brief doorstep conversation, I used his name during our lovemaking and waited expectantly for Jackie to give some indication that she was either content to go along with this more personal approach or that she preferred to keep our fantasy characters anonymous and faceless. It was the first time I had used a real person's name in our lovemaking. I had teased her with the idea of a twenty year old fucking her from behind with a big thick cock, but as she started to orgasm I told her that I bet she would like it to be Brian who was deep inside her. I thought I detected a reaction but could not be sure. Even if she did not seem to particularly embrace this new approach, it certainly did not seem to dampen her enthusiasm. I decided to be subtle and not overdo this somewhat risky tactic; all I wanted to do was to get her mind working, although I did not entertain any serious prospect of any sexual activity that would include our 20 year old neighbour. The next time I met Brian he was a guest at a barbeque held at our house. Every summer we held a barbeque-come-cocktail party, inviting our immediate neighbours and our closest friends; in all around thirty people, including children. It had become something of a tradition that the women used the event to wear their finery whilst the men turned up in smart casual clothes. Jackie was no exception and I watched with interest as she dressed herself in a newly acquired little black dress. The dress showed off her curvaceous body hugging her tightly in all the right places, but was hardly tarty, with the hem ending only a little above her knees. What the party guests would not see was her lace-topped stockings, held up by a small suspender belt, and a black strapless bra that was designed to create a deep cleavage. Matching lace knickers provided the finishing effect. As always, she refrained from putting on her stilettos until the first guests started to arrive. Although I knew every intimate detail of her breasts and had virtually free and constant access, I still found myself staring at them, amazed at the effect the bra seemed to be having on her already stunning figure. I was in no doubt that I would not be the only man to be enjoying the alluring sight over the next few hours. The guests started to arrive and as the numbers increased people broke into small conversational groups. Black dresses seemed to be the order of the day although there were a number of variations on view. As host, it of course fell to me to do the cooking. I am a big fan of gas barbeques finding them easier to light and control: I am however, a reluctant cook so I was grateful when Brian offered to help. For the next hour I was engrossed with cooking all sorts of sausages, burgers and steaks. Brian did a sterling job dishing out food and drink as if he were a self-appointed waiter. At last, the demand for food slowed to a trickle and finally dried up. At some point Brian failed to return and I presumed that he had become involved in an interesting conversation somewhere. For a fleeting moment I thought of him and my wife involved in some intimate conversation in a hidden and secluded corner of our home. My delusion was almost immediately shattered when I caught sight of Jackie talking with an elderly couple who lived in a small bungalow opposite us. A closer inspection revealed that she was slightly unsteady on her feet, the effect I assumed, of a little too much wine. Overindulging in alcohol at such events was unusual for Jackie, as she always liked to maintain a degree of control. Even as I watched, I saw Brian sidle up to her and refill her glass. I was surprised she allowed him to do so as she particularly hated it when people became loud or ill because of their inability to hold their drink. After my cooking duties had been fulfilled, I circulated freely taking random photographs that, as I had done in previous years, I would later e-mail to everyone who had been present. I also did my best to ensure wine glasses were kept filled. As the evening started winding down, people began to leave and make their way home. By midnight the only remaining guests were Mark, Gill and of course Brian. Mark was tea total and because I was host I had been drinking only soft drinks throughout the evening, Gill however had overindulged and was a little worse for wear. Brian and Jackie were seated on the sofa on the other side of the room. We could hear them well enough to know the conversation concerned his university studies. Despite her inebriated condition, Jackie appeared interested in the conversation and her body language suggested that she was enjoying the young man's company, every so often laughing at one of his jokes or witticisms. Eventually Mark and Gill decided to leave and suggested that Brian ought to leave also. I noticed that Jackie had just refilled his glass with red wine, so I assured them that he was welcome to stay and that he would be home as soon as he had finished his drink. It seemed that events had conspired quite innocently to create this unusual but perhaps fortuitous situation. At least that is how my fertile imagination interpreted the events. Jackie and Brian were engrossed in their conversation and so I decided that instead of intruding, I would review the pictures I had taken. Whenever taking photographs in such circumstances I have always taken care to try to use whatever ambient lighting was available and avoided flash at all costs. People simply don't want a lens pushed in their face and blinded by harsh flashguns; particular in the kind of subdued relaxed lighting usually favoured at such events. However, people are far more accepting of shots taken at a discrete distance, particularly when using a telephoto lens, not least because such a lens tends to be quite flattering. It took just a short time to browse through the fifty or so photographs. Generally, I was quite pleased with them so I downloaded them immediately onto my laptop. Satisfied that I had some good shots to send out by e-mail, I started to casually point my camera around the room, experimenting with a variety of compositions including ones that included my wife and young neighbour. The light levels in the room were quite low but a few experimental shots showed that perfectly acceptable images could be obtained, provided there was not too much movement from the subject. My snapping caught the attention of my wife and smiling, she asked, "What are you up to?" Brian turned to face me, and seeing what I was doing, suggested an impromptu photography lesson. Jackie seemed little put out that she had so easily lost the exclusive attention of her companion and let her annoyance show on her face. He sat down beside me and bombarded me with questions about exposure times and apertures. He was especially interested in why I did not use a flashgun. I was only too happy to explain, but could see that some of the technical terms were going over his head. "It's probably easier to demonstrate," I murmured and looked around for a suitable subject. Jokingly, I asked Jackie to strike a pose on the sofa. Entering into the spirit of the moment and still under the influence of wine, she half closed her eyes and in a strong French accent whispered, "Mais qui, monsier." She lay out the length of the sofa and crossed her shapely legs, allowing the hem of her dress to rise about six inches above her knees. She looked gorgeous. "First of all I'll take a shot using ambient light, and then we'll take one using full flash." I asked Jackie to hold perfectly still for the first exposure. With no tripod handy, I used the back of a chair to steady my camera and pressed the shutter. I was proud of the resulting image and equally proud of how my wife looked on the preview screen. Her body looked good and the low light and telephoto lens had the predicted flattering effect. Brian seemed to be very interested in the image. I suspected that he was staring at Jackie's legs, but he had the excuse that he was assessing the white balance and sharpness. "Now for the flash; sorry luv but this is going to be a little bright," I warned Jackie, who to her credit was still holding the same provocative pose. She pursed her lips and blew a kiss in our direction, which to my surprise Brian returned without any hint of embarrassment. I once again pressed the shutter button and as I had warned, the flash was uncomfortably bright causing us all to blink. As our eyes readjusted, Brian and I again studied the preview screen. We were both speechless. I glanced at my young erstwhile student, but he was fixated on the image before us. I could not blame him. The image was as harsh as I had predicted. What I had not predicted was the effect of the flash on Jackie's dress. She may just as well have taken it off. Her stockings and suspenders were clear to see, as was her lacy bra. It had even penetrated the lace on the bra's cups and it was easy to see the outline of her nipples. Without the obscuring dress her long slim legs seemed to go on forever, accentuated even further by her stiletto heels. If you looked closely you could even see the crevice of her pussy, seen through the ghostly outline of her knickers. Brian spoke for the first time, "Wow!" Jackie relaxed from her pose and asked what was so interesting. "Nothing," I quickly replied trying to cover the unintentional silence. "It's just that you look great." "Oh really" she sounded slightly doubtful. "What do you think Brian, do you think I look great?" she asked rather mischievously. He gulped before blurting out that he thought she was gorgeous. "Well, young sir, that is very gallant of you, but I am old enough to be your mother." Clearly, the drink was giving her a confidence that I had seldom witnessed before. "No, no I really think you are beautiful." He responded confidently, then paused; "I always have," he whispered, almost apologetically, his voice trailing off. There was a silence as his words sank in. "Well I agree with you Brian," I added loudly, shattering the embarrassing silence that his confession had caused. Remembering the effect that a camera had had on her so recently I wanted to encourage her to continue posing. "So how about a few more poses for two ardent admirers?"