FANTASY
 
by Margery Pinchwife
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(c) Margery Pinchwife, 2002

     I had been married to Alfred for over a dozen years when he first began to reveal his fantasies to me.  The first time was when we were making love.  I was on top, as usual, riding up and down on him, when he began to say things like, “They’re watching us.  They can see you fucking away.”

    I stopped my motion.  My first thought was that we had forgot to pull the window shades down, but I quickly reassured myself on that count.

    “Who?”

    “All those men.  They’ve been standing around watching your ass hump up and down, watching my prick drive up into you.”  I started up again.

    “Do they like what they see?”

    “Oh, yes!  It excites them to see you fucking me.  They’ve all got their cocks out and are stroking away.”

    The thought of a bunch of excited men watching us fuck gave me a feeling of power.  I was the center of their attention.  I could make them so excited that they’d openly masturbate.  This feeling of power coupled with the realization that I was now entering into my husband’s fantasy life was so stimulating to me that it quickly brought me to a climax, giving me one of the strongest orgasms I had had in some time.

    And so began our fantasy life.  From then on, every now and then as the spirit moved Alfred, we would fuck surrounded by horny masturbating men who would ejaculate more or less at the same time as he would.  We were exhibitionists in this fantasy world, performing for an audience of men who encouraged us and who were wildly stimulated by our performances.  Their numbers fluctuated, sometimes there would be a half dozen watching us, sometimes only one or two.  Then, gradually over the course of time, they were reduced to one steady observer, who became so familiar to us that we eventually decided to give him a name.  We called him Roger.

    Alfred always provided the descriptions.  “Roger’s watching us again.  He’s standing in the doorway stroking his cock.  Hump your ass.  He wants to see my prick going in and out of your cunt.  He wants to see your tits swinging.  He wants to see you come!”  And, of course, I would always do my best to comply with Roger’s wants.  My husband found this incredibly stimulating.  I developed the feeling that I was satisfying the needs of three people simultaneously, his, mine, and Roger’s.

    Roger wasn’t always there.  Sometimes it was just me and Alfred.  Sometimes Roger showed up early, other times only towards the climax of our efforts.  Sometimes he was sitting in our bedroom, sometimes stranding at the doorway, sometimes peeking in through the window.  It all depended on my husband’s mood, which varied from time to time.

    After a year or so of these visits from Roger, a new variation occurred.  

    “I see you fucking him.  I see you riding up and down on his hard cock.  I’ve come home unexpectedly and found you fucking Roger.”

    “What are you going to do?”

    “I’m going to watch you.  I like to see you fuck.  I like to see your ass humping up and down, to see his cock ride into you, to see your tits swaying as you ride him, to see your face tighten up into a grimace as you start to come.  That’s it.  Fuck him.  Come on, let me see you come!”

    So they had switched.  Now I was fucking Roger and my husband was watching.  Alfred would sometimes begin with, “I see you fucking him.”  And then I might respond with questions to encourage his fantasy.

    “Does it excite you?”

    “Oh, yes!”

    “Do you have your prick out?”

    “Yes.”

    “Are you stroking it while I swallow Roger’s fat cock?”

    Other times, while we were still in the foreplay stage, Alfred would ask, “Is Roger coming tonight?”

    “Yes.”

    “Do you like to fuck him?”

    “Oh yes, he’s very good.”

    “What is he going to do to you?

    “He’s going to run his tongue back and forth along my labia, and then lick my clitoris, and then stick his big, long tongue as far as he can up my cunt.  Yes, like that, that’s what he’s going to do.  Oh, yes!”

    Much of our sex life continued without benefit of these fantasies, but when Alfred felt like invoking it his imagination created a whole range of variations on the Roger theme.  This led to a rather varied sex life for me.  Sometime I’d just fuck Alfred, sometimes just Roger while Alfred watched, sometimes they’d both participate together, sometimes only Roger would be there and then I’d have to tell my husband all about what happened.  We found all this very stimulating.  It brought new excitement into our sex life, new thrills into our marriage.

    Once I asked Alfred why he wanted to imagine me fucking another man.  “I like to watch you when you’re excited, when sex takes over your whole body and you’re driven by lust.  I like to watch your tits swinging from side to side, your ass pumping away.  I’d like to be able to see your cunt as it slides up and down on a stiff cock, your juices making the cock glisten.  I like to see the expression in your eyes, the way you clench your jaw and screw up your face as you get ready to come.  I just like to see you in the thralls of sexual passion, to see the animal in you.  It excites me tremendously.”

    “Would you really like to see me fucking another man?”

    He hesitated a moment before responding, “It’s just a fantasy,” and changed the subject.  

    It made me wonder.  Was that really a truthful answer or did the hesitation imply something rather different?  I didn’t pursue the point, I was enjoying the fantasy too much.

    All of this is by way of a prelude to the events that we want to describe to you here.  These occurred a few years later, when I had gone away to a professional conference.  I work in elder care and the conference was an opportunity for me to hear about the latest developments in the field, as well as a chance to meet other professionals, establish contacts, compare approaches, and the like.  The conference was scheduled for Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday, ending with the banquet Friday night.  Normally this meant I’d fly home Saturday, but I was going to say over until Sunday in order to get the cheap air fare.

    The conference turned out to be remarkably informative, much more so that they usually are, largely because it was organized around the theme of the impact of new technology on elder care, with specific emphasis on computers.  That’s not really my field of expertise, so after the more interesting presentations I usually wound up trying to talk privately with the presenter to get a better understanding of what he or she had said.  Aside from the use of the computer for more extensive and imaginative record-keeping, a number of the innovations had to do with improved communications with the distant elderly, an issue that is becoming increasingly important in a society where children, their parents, and their grandparents no longer all live togther in the same town.

    The last session, on Friday afternoon, was the best.  One particularly interesting presentation had to do with a new way of communicating with the hearing-impaired.  With age it is not uncommon for one’s hearing to diminish, which can make it very difficult to communicate with a distant relative by phone.  The best alternative is TTY, but that’s really not very satisfying.  At this presentation, we saw how one person could sit at a computer seeing live video of another, and communicating with them through instant messaging or, for those for whom that was too difficult, by simply clicking on various options.  The speaker was quite good and gave a very lively presentation, so there was a lot interest.  

    When the presentation was over, I waited patiently with my questions until he had finished responding to the half a dozen others who also had questions.  He was quite thorough in his responses, often taking the time to demonstrate how one would deal with a particular situation, so by the time it was my turn it was getting rather late.  I asked him a couple of questions, listened to his responses, and then realized that I wouldn’t have time to ask him more because I had to go change for the closing banquet.  He suggested that we could sit together at dinner and continue the discussion there.  As I really wanted to clarify some additional issues, I readily agreed.  We settled on a time and place to meet and I went off to get ready.

    I just barely had time to change and give Alfred my daily call before it was time to go eat.  At dinner, I continued to ask the questions that I had started after the talk.  The man was remarkably patient with my ignorance of technology, listened carefully to whatever dumb thing I had to say, and gave full, well-thought-out responses, insisting that I understand everything he was trying to say.  Still, by the middle of the main course we had finally exhausted the subject and gone on to other, less professional issues.  After three days of what had been for me hard work, it was a pleasure to relax with an enjoyable conversationalist.  Of course, the wine didn’t hurt.  It also didn’t hurt that he was good looking.  He was a little taller than Alfred, with a full head of dark, wavy hair that contrasted with the soft blue of his eyes, which he had carefully matched in his choice of tie.  His square jaw gave an impression of strength, which was softened by the dimple in its center.  His voice exuded a quiet confidence.

    He seemed very interested in me, my work, my family, my interests, paying the sort of attention that I don’t often get from men.  We continued chatting though dessert, but decided to duck out when the speeches began.  He then suggested that we go up to his room where he had a bottle of very good brandy.

    “Are you hitting on me?”

    “Yes, as a matter of fact.”

    “I told you I was a married woman.”

    “Well, I’ve slept with a number of married women before, so I don’t see that necessarily as an impediment.”

    “I hadn’t realized there were so many married women who would so easily cheat on their husbands.”

    “Oddly enough, not all of them were cheating.”

    I didn’t understand that, so he explained.

    “Some of the wives did it with the approval, connivance, and even encouragement of their husbands.”

    “You’re kidding.”

    “Not at all.  Their husbands evidently found it exceedingly stimulating when their wives came home and described in detail how they had slept with other men.  Some of these men would even want to watch.”

    I immediately thought of Alfred’s fantasies.  It made me wonder.

    “Many men derive pleasure and excitement in seeing their wives achieve satisfaction with another man,” he went on,  “those who have confidence in themselves and their marriage often encourage it.  Has your husband never hinted that he’d be interested in watching you with another man?”

    He must have seen the blush on my face, because he continued, “He has, hasn’t he?”

    “Those are just his fantasies.  He wouldn’t really want it in real life.”

    “Are you sure?  Have you never considered it, even just in your own fantasies?”

    “Even if I have,” I couldn’t really deny that I’d participated in these fantasies, “I’d certainly never do it.  If my husband wanted me to sleep with another man, he’d have to tell me to do it and even then I probably wouldn’t do it.  I’m really very satisfied with my husband.”

    “But suppose he did encourage you.  I don’t mean that he’d just suddenly come out and say ‘Sleep with that guy,’ but rather he’d do it bit by bit, in steps.  First it might me ‘Be nice to that guy,’ then later maybe ‘Have a drink with him,’ or “Dance with him,’ and so on, step by step.”

    “If that’s what you’re waiting for, you’re out of luck.  I’ll only be here until Sunday.  You don’t expect him to call me up every hour to encourage me to be a little more friendly to you, do you?  I rather think it would take considerably more time, maybe even forever.”

    He smiled at me.  “Til Sunday is plenty of time.  I’m going to be here through Sunday also, and he won’t have to call up every hour.  That’s what I’ve been talking about all afternoon.  He can turn on his computer, watch you, and step by step tell you what to do.  It’s the miracle of modern technology.”

    I was speechless.  I looked at him in utter confusion.  Here he was telling me not only that his technology, which I had been admiring all afternoon, would make his seduction possible, but also that he was confident that my husband would tell me to sleep with him.

    A vagrant thought crossed my mind that he was rather good looking and that I had been enjoying his company, but I pushed that out of my mind as irrelevant.  I was a married woman.  Finally, I managed to say, “I think it’s time for me to go to bed.   Alone.”

    “Alright.  I’ll tell you what.  You think about it tonight.  Let’s have breakfast tomorrow and, only if you’re interested, we can continue the discussion then. Otherwise, we can go sightseeing.”  

    That seemed safe enough.  I wouldn’t mind going sightseeing with him.  So I agreed to his coming by for me at 8 the next morning for breakfast.  He walked me to my room in the hotel.

    “Can I at least give you a good night kiss on the cheek?”

    I held my cheek out to him and he gave it an incredibly sweet, soft peck.  On a sudden thoughtless impulse, as he began to pull away, I grabbed him and kissed him firmly on the mouth, yielding to that earlier vagrant thought.  Then I fled into my room in total embarrassment..

    That night, I went to bed masturbating.  I had all sorts of erotic dreams during the night.  I kept finding myself in bed with this tall, dark haired, blue eyed man (who I now began to think of as “Roger”), rubbing our naked bodies together,  while Alfred stood there and encouraged me.  When I woke next morning, my bed was a shambles and my nightie was up to my armpits, as if I had actually been visited during the night.  Unfortunately, I had not, and so I rose unsatisfied and with barely enough time to make myself presentable for our breakfast date.

    Roger, for so I’ll call him now, rang for me promptly as we had arranged, and we met at the dining room.  He asked me how I had slept (I merely said “Fine, and you.”), and we chatted about the weather, the food, and the conference for a while.  Finally he asked, “Have you thought about what I suggested last night?”

    “You ARE persistent, aren’t you?”

    “Some things are worth the effort.”

    “And you think I am?”

    “I know you are, I kept waking and thinking of you all night.  But you haven’t answered my question except with another question.”

    I hesitated.  I finally responded, both as a way of evading the basic issue and also out of curiosity, “Tell me how it would work.”

    He then, patiently as always, outlined exactly what his plan was.  He had clearly been thinking through the details overnight.  He would, he explained, set up a special, secure website.  I would email Alfred telling him to look at the website that evening.  We’d spend the day working out exactly what to ask Alfred, what choices he’d have, what would happen for each choice, trying as much as possible to anticipate his possible responses.  We’d set up a webcam in my room.  Roger would show me how to control everything from my PDA.  And then, it would be up to Alfred.

    I was fascinated by the technology, and even more by the possible outcomes.  I didn’t for a minute believe that Alfred would in any way consent to Roger’s hopes (although I didn’t mind fantasizing a bit about them), but I was intrigued by what his possible responses might be.  I thought it might be some innocent fun.  Alfred would certainly enjoy the concept and perhaps even see it as the basis for some of our future fantasies.  And I thought I would enjoy planning it with Roger, teasing him into thinking that something might come of it all.  Given all that, it didn’t take Roger too terribly long to convince me to at least try the idea.

    So, right after breakfast, I emailed Alfred.  My note said, simply, “Fantasyland, special for you, tonight at 9:00 p.m. at” and it gave the URL of the website Roger had created.  Then, it went on, “Respond to this and I’ll send you your ID and password.  Love, Carol.”  I knew that Alfred usually spent Saturday morning working on his email, so I wasn’t surprised when his answer came back almost immediately.  It was pretty much as I expected it would be.  “What’s going on?  Sounds like fun.  Love, Alfred.”

    Roger and I spent most of the day getting ready.  First we had to set up the webcam somewhere where it would have a good view of the whole room.  There was nothing to attach it to, but Roger had a tripod and, after experimenting with a number of locations, we found one we liked.  At least Alfred would get to see what my hotel room looked like.  Then Roger went to work creating a number of different screens that would offer Alfred a set of branching choices - at each one he could decide whether to go on in one direction or another or whether to quit.  Each would depend on what had gone on before, so we had to make them up for all likely eventualities.

    There were a slew of different pathways branching out in a variety of directions.  I never seriously considered that we’d actually follow any of them except the most innocent.  It was more of a “what if” game, just a variation on the usual fantasy games we played.  In fact, it wouldn’t have taken us so long if I had taken the whole thing more seriously and hadn’t kept making humorous suggestions.  However, some of the pathways that we came up with led in pretty bizarre directions, ones I wouldn’t want to pursue even in fantasy; I vetoed these immediately.  Roger eliminated them without protest.  Others looked serious enough to make me rather nervous when I saw them, but I reassured myself that, even if we actually got going at all, we’d never really reach those points, and if we got anywhere close to them it would be fun to see Alfred’s reactions.  Still, if Alfred were to surprise me and would actually want to pursue them, I would certainly want to be able to stop the game.  So Roger fixed up on my PDA what he called an escape button, a button I could press any time I wanted to end our little game.  We debated what it should show on Alfred’s screen. We considered just a blank screen, or (my attempt at humor) Porky Pig stuttering “That’s all folks,” or several other possibilities, before settling on a simple note that said, “This is the end of this fantasy.  I’ll see you tomorrow.  I love you.”  

    So I indulged in this fantasy game with confidence.  Neither Alfred nor I would let it get very far in actuality.  Later, we could pursue the different pathways in our own, private fantasies.

    Roger wanted a picture of my smiling face to use as a sort of logo on the first page after the sign-in, so he took pictures of me with his digital camera and we fussed for quite a while before we got one that satisfied both of us.  Then Roger had to set up my PDA so I could easily switch from the live webcam to one of the screens.  Although it seemed to me that he had covered all possible eventualities, he insisted I learn how to make a screen from his laptop in case something happened that we’d failed to anticipate.  
                    
    Having sent out for sandwiches for lunch, we worked in my  room solidly until about 6, when we finally were finished.  He went back to his room to clean up and change, and I got a chance to shower.  For the banquet, I dressed in a gray business suit with a white collarless blouse that buttoned in the front.  I wore no jewelry except for my wedding and engagement rings.  At 7, Roger appeared at my door, dressed in a dark blue blazer with a pale blue shirt, nicely chosen to match his eyes.  He had left the top two buttons opened and a few chest hairs peeked out, making him look ruggedly handsome.  We went down to the hotel dining room and had a leisurely dinner with just enough wine to relax me.  We were comfortably back in my room a little after 8:30, where we chatted until just before 9.  Then Roger stepped out into the hallway to wait.  For the first time I realized that we were actually going to start playing the game.
    I was too curious to wait until 9.  As soon as Carol sent me my ID (“sexfantasy”) and password (“iluvu”) I signed onto the website.  All I got was a notice saying “Wait until 9:00 p.m” and a clock that gave the time.  I checked it against my watch, signed off, and settled down to wait.  I didn’t know what my wife was up to, but I was sure it would be some sort of fun.  I was surprised that she could set up a website like that, but figured she was just showing off some of the technology she had mastered in some workshop at the conference.  I tried to get some of my own work done, but her choice of ID for me kept me trying to imagine what was going to happen.

    Promptly at 9 I signed in again.  This time a new page appeared.  Below a big, red “Welcome to Your Fantasyland,” was a picture of Carol’s smiling face.  Below that it read, “This is your Fantasyland.  If you choose to go on, you will activate a videocam that will enable you to see, live and in real time, a picture of my room.  You’ll be able to control the camera with your mouse.  Moving the curser in any direction will turn the camera in that direction.  Left click will zoom in, right click will zoom out.  After you’ve had a few minutes to master the camera controls, the action will start.  At some point, it will stop and you will be given a choice of what happens next.  At every such choice, one option will be ‘End the fantasy.’  If you choose that, all action will cease, the computer will bid you farewell, the screen will go blank, and that will be the end of our little game.  Once you make a choice, you cannot revoke it.”  At the bottom of the screen, there were two boxes I could click on.  One said “Continue to the videocam of my room,” the other said “End the fantasy.”

    Naturally, I chose “Continue” and, after some downloading time, I was presented with a full-screen image of a part of a hotel room.  I right-clicked and the camera zoomed out until I could see most of the room, a bed, a night table with a laptop on it that I had never seen before, a dresser with some of Carol’s things on it, a closet, a door to what appeared to be the bathroom, another door, probably to the outside, and, just at the right edge, part of a chair on which was seated a woman.  With my mouse, I turned the camera to the right and was able to see that it was Carol sitting there.  She smiled at me and waved.

    I fiddled with the controls a bit and, after exploring the room some more, returned to Carol and zoomed in on her, trying to read the expression on her face.  Although she was smiling, she didn’t look overly confident, as if she wasn’t sure if her game was going to work.

    After a moment more, she got up and walked to the outside door.  She opened it, revealing a moderately tall man with dark, wavy hair, wearing a blue blazer and a light blue shirt, opened at the collar.  She then fumbled with something in her hand, which I recognized as her PDA, and the video image disappeared from my screen.

    In its place was another screen that said, “This is Roger.”  “ROGER!” I thought.  Below were two choices.  “Invite him in,” and “End the fantasy.”  
    This brought me to a halt.  I knew what the name Roger meant to us, and she wanted to invite him into her hotel room!  I took a deep breath and wondered where this was going.   Then I realized that she was playing with me.  Of course she’d call him Roger, she knew what images that name would bring to my mind.   However, I figured I knew her game and was pretty sure nothing serious would come of it.  Besides, I was sufficiently curious that I wanted to see what she was really up to.  So I decided to “Invite him in.”

     Still....who was this Roger?  He was, I noticed with some modest concern, rather good looking.

    I knew that my husband had signed on when I saw the little red light under the camera go on and a screen on the laptop said “Continue.”  I kept my eye on the camera and when it pointed at me I tried to smile and waved at it.  I was really nervous because I had no idea what he was thinking, nor what would happen if I let Roger in.
                        
    I gave Alfred a little while to play with the controls, then got up, walked to the door, and opened it.  Roger had to remind me to hit the button on my PDA that shut the camera off and it took me a moment or two to remember which button to push.  We stood there waiting, not wanting to move until Alfred made his choice.  If he chose to “End the fantasy,” the screen on the laptop would tell us, and that would be the end of that.  If he chose to go on, the camera would come back on and we could move.

    It took longer than I had expected.  Probably because of the name Roger, which I knew would give Alfred pause.  But then, after a bit, the laptop screen said “Come in,” the red light went on. Of course, he knew I would tease him forever if he chickened out this early.  Roger and I continued as we had planned.

    I took Roger by the arm and led him into the room, closing and locking the door behind me.  We walked slowly toward the end of the bed, the camera under Alfred’s control following us closely.  We stopped near the bed and chatted for a while.  I tried not to look at the camera.  I was trying to pretend I was there alone with Roger, just talking.  Roger reminded me of what we had planned, so from time to time I innocently touched his arm, or he casually reached out and brushed a hair out of my face.  I began to enjoy myself thinking about the effect this would have on Alfred.  When enough time had elapsed, I pressed the button on my PDA.
    They had been chatting there in a rather friendly manner, with a lot of touching of each other, which I knew was just to get my attention.  When the video went blank again, the next screen said, “I’m pretty sure Roger wants to kiss me.”  This time I had three choices, “Kiss him back, tongue and all,” “Let him kiss your cheek and then move away from him,” and “End the fantasy.”

    Alright, I thought, if she wants to play that way, go ahead and kiss him.  I would play her game, at least for a while.  I’d get a chance to see what it would be like to watch my wife french-kissing another man.  If I didn’t like what I saw, I could always end the fantasy at the next screen.                    

    A few seconds after the video came back on, they were kissing.  They had their arms around each other, their bodies pressed against each other, their mouths locked in what looked to be a serious kiss.  Roger’s hands stroked Carol’s back and she seemed to be gripping the back of his blazer.  This was not just a friendly kiss.  They looked like they really meant business.  

    And it excited me.

    After a while Carol pulled back and fumbled with her PDA.  The video blanked out and the next screen said, “Wow!  That was really nice.  Now, I’m sure that the next step will be a little groping.”  My choices were, “Let him grope away,” “Just restrict it to kissing for the time being,” and “End the fantasy.”

    Did I want to see this Roger grope my wife?  Rubbing her ass, caressing her tits, maybe even her crotch?  At this point I was getting nervous about how far this would go.  But yes, I did want to see his hand on her tits.  This was part of my fantasy and, I was confident, Carol wouldn’t let it go too much further.  In some sense, it was a game of chicken, who would stop first, and I felt that I could surely go on further than she was likely to.  In any event, I wanted to watch her expression as she felt a strange hand on her tits.

    When the camera came back on and the laptop said “Tongue,” I had a moment’s hesitation.  But Roger pulled me close and it seemed so natural to kiss him.  This wasn’t the quick kiss on the mouth I had given him last night.  This was a long, wet kiss with his tongue thrusting deep into my mouth.  I pressed my body against him and kissed back, sliding my tongue forward when his receded.  His hands held my back, softly massaging it.  I put my arms around him and could feel the solidity of his back concealed under his jacket.  I wanted to put on a good show for Alfred but, I realized, this wasn’t just a game to tease Alfred.  This kiss felt good.

    It’s funny that mouths feel and taste so different.  I hadn’t had a kiss like that with anyone other than Alfred since we were married.  The touch of Roger’s mouth felt like a new sensation.  It brought back the excitement of my youth, of a new and strange mouth pressing on mine.  I liked this kiss and might have gone for quite a while longer if Roger hadn’t pulled back ever so slightly and whispered, “Your PDA.”

    The next choice was getting serious.  I didn’t mind an occasional grope.  I had been at parties where men tried to cop a feel.  But how would Alfred take it?  And, if it had the novelty that the kiss had, how would I respond to a new hand on my breast?  It wouldn’t be just a quick grope.  Roger would be sure to insist that it be a slow, leisurely one that Alfred could see and admire.  Roger would be in no hurry.  He was confident that Alfred, like other husbands he was aware of, would want to go further.  I was not confident one way or the other.  In fact, I was becoming a bit afraid.

    When the light came back on, Roger didn’t hesitate.  His hand slipped down to my ass as he pulled me back to continue the kiss.  Pressing his body against mine, he slowly kneaded my ass, pulling our groins together.  After a while, he brought his hand along my side, working his way upward towards my breast.  I knew that I would soon be feeling a strange hand on my breast, Alfred had invited it and Roger was not about to decline the invitation.  I was buried in the intensity of the kiss and almost automatically turned slightly so that hand could reach my breast.  Through the thickness of my suit jacket all I could feel was a broad pressure, but Roger soon pushed the jacket open enough so I could feel his hand through the thin material of my blouse and bra, cupping my breast, pushing it slightly upward, his thumb pleasurably pressing against my hardening nipple.

    For a moment I forgot that my husband could see all this.  I pressed my body closer to Roger’s, trapping his hand against my breast.  I could feel his erection pressing the base of my abdomen.  The sudden recollection that Alfred was watching brought a surge of adrenalin through me.  My nipple was hardening under the pressure of Roger’s thumb, which massaged it in slow circles.  This felt so good.  I was enjoying Roger with my husband’s full acquiescence, knowing that Alfred was there to ensure that nothing went too far.  I was thinking of the future fantasies I would have with Alfred and then, when Roger’s hand moved down and pressed against my crotch, I was thinking of Roger.

    It took an effort to come up for breath.  I had to look around to find what I had done with my PDA before I could press the button to end the video.
    Well, I was seeing my wife’s expression as a strange man fondled her tit.  It was an expression that I had seen before when we fucked, but had never seen on her face with another man.  I realized that this was not just a show for me.  There was no doubt that she was enjoying the action, indeed, was heavily into it.  I zoomed in on her tit and could see her hard nipple protruding through the cloth of her blouse as his thumb rubbed it round and round.  Moving up to her face, I could see that heavy lidded, sightless gaze.  After a moment or two, a subtle change of expression caused me to zoom back out and see that his hand was now pressing against her skirt, rubbing her cunt.  Carol’s hips seemed to push forward, to increase the pressure, and even to grind a bit.  Oh, she was enjoying this.  And, with feeling of butterflies in my stomach, I realized that I was enjoying it, too.  I was suddenly conscious of my hard on.
    
    Carol pulled away and looked around, a bit confused.  Eventually she found her PDA on the foot of the bed, where she had dropped it, and the video was replaced by a new screen.  “I hope you’re enjoying this as much as I am,” it said, “The next step should be even better.”  It offered me the choices, “Let him delve under my clothes, and grope him back,” “Let him continue to explore over my clothes, then back off for a while,” and, as always, “End the fantasy.”

    A pang of fear kicked me in the diaphragm.  Up to now, it had been dance-floor groping.  I didn’t know for sure, but believed there had been parties when she had had too much to drink and one of our “friends” had taken such liberties.  At least I liked to fantasize that.  But now she was proposing something more, something that I didn’t believe she had done with anyone else since before we started serious dating.  And she was proposing that I give her the go-ahead!

    I really should stop it, my rational brain told me.  But my stiff cock said otherwise.  It wanted me to see that thumb rubbing my wife’s naked nipple.  It wanted to see her writhing with passion as his fingers slipped into her cunt.  And it wanted to see her responding.  This was the stuff of our fantasies, the scene that I had envisioned over and over again as we fucked.  Only now it was more than fantasy.  There was a real, live Roger there fondling her.

    My rational brain conceded defeat.  After all, this was still only rubbing.  Her gynecologist had probably taken at least that many liberties with her.  At least now I could enjoy it.  She knew I was watching so, as much as she seemed to be enjoying it, she wouldn’t let it go too far.  I clicked on the “under my clothes” option.

    When the video came back on, Roger was working on the buttons of Carol’s blouse. It didn’t take him long to get them opened, and a moment later he had opened the front snap of her bra.  I could clearly see her lovely, naked tit.  

    And then I saw Roger’s hand moving across it.

    I was a little surprised that Alfred let us go on like this.  I can’t say I was disappointed, but I felt a heightened sense of danger added to the erotic thrill that Roger was giving me.  I had been pretty sure that Alfred wouldn’t mind, would even get a bit of a thrill out of, some over-the-clothing fondling, but I really hadn’t expected him to want to see another man’s hand on my naked breast, let alone between my legs.

    It almost felt like the first time - the sense of danger, of crossing the line, of entering unexplored territory - as Roger unbuttoned my blouse with considerable finesse and, without hesitation, as if he had expected it all along, went immediately after my front-opening bra.  Before I could catch my breath, he had exposed my breast to his view, to the camera, to my husband.  And then his hand was on it.

    There was no concealing the state of my arousal.  My nipple was sticking boldly out, hard and red, with the areola around it pebbled with my passion.  ven the slightest motion of his hand on my breast, on my nipple sent a tingling feeling through me.  Oh, that felt nice!

    Roger had turned slightly, so that his hip pressed against my crotch.  Almost automatically I pushed my pelvis forward, feeling his hip against my clit, rubbing from side to side.  I wanted this to go on.  I wanted Alfred to see what he had ordered.  I wanted the feeling that radiated out from my nipple to continue surging through my body.

    The disappointment I felt when Roger’s hand left my breast vanished the moment I felt it pulling my skirt up.  Yes, I thought, get in there, that’s where I really want some rubbing.  I moved off his hip to give his hand access.  Oh, yes, I thought, press your hand against the dampness between my legs.  I’ve got a spot there that needs to feel you.

    As Roger’s hand slid up my thigh and under the crotch of my panties, running softly over my bare vulva, and beginning to penetrate, I put my hand between his legs and slowly stroked upward along the hard erection that I had no trouble finding.  I slowly brought my hand upward along its length, trying to grasp it, to feel its outline through the cloth of his pants.  It was hard to concentrate, however, because Roger’s finger had slipped well inside my inviting vagina and had captured my full attention.

    I leaned against him, closed my eyes, and concentrated on the sensations that his finger was generating within me.  I was breathing hard now and was rapidly losing control.  My hand clutched his hard penis, holding on as if I was afraid of falling.  

    I knew I had to stop.  Alfred was watching, seeing his wife with her naked breast hanging out, her hand on another man’s erection, and that man’s hand deep under her skirt, fondling her as no man should another man’s wife.  

    I managed to pull away.  This time Roger had to help me find the PDA.  He gave my nipple one last caress, a soft kiss, before I pressed the button.
    My heart was pounding, my insides felt hollow.  As I watched Roger pushing his hand under my wife’s skirt, pressing at her crotch, I felt an internal shiver, as if I had just entered some strange and sinister room and the door had shut behind me.  I knew that expression on Carol’s face, the look that had lost contact with the outside world, that was concentrating on sensations of her body.  My cock was throbbing and, almost without realizing, I opened my pants to let it free.

    My eyes were riveted on the scene.  I was not conscious of how long it went on.  Seeing my wife riding on another man’s hand, her own hand clutching at his crotch, felt like the first time I had ever touched a woman’s cunt - the thrill, the fear, the excitement.  I was in another world.  

    When they stopped, I was disappointed.  It jolted me back into the real world.  While they were looking around for the PDA, which Carol had dropped on the floor, I took a series of deep breaths.  This had gone far enough, I thought. The kiss on the nipple did it.  I really have to stop it now.

    The new screen that replaced the image of them almost tore me apart.  It said, “These clothes are getting in the way.”  There were only two choices, “Take them off,” and “End the fantasy.”  

    A part of me, the sensible, sane part, said, “End the fantasy.”  Things had gone far enough.  If they continued like this, without clothing, could there be any stopping?  Where would it end?

    But the other part of me, the animal part, the part that had pumped the blood into my turgid cock and then wrapped my fist around it, was saying something different.  It was telling me how exciting it was to watch Carol being stimulated by another man; that the clothes were, in fact, getting in the way, preventing me from seeing her cunt while he finger-fucked her; reminding me what a thrill it was when we had gone to the nude beech and she had taken off her bathing suit.  Let him see her naked, I thought, then you can watch his finger going into her cunt, see her hand stroking his prick.  It’s just heavy petting, only with a better view for you.

    As I started to move the cursor, I felt as if there were some living animal in my chest, stomping on my diaphragm, driven by my pounding heart.  It took an effort to make myself click on “Take them off.”

    When the video image reappeared, they were standing there, Roger looking intently at my wife and she looking in the direction of the laptop.  They were both motionless.  She looked stunned.  Had I given the wrong response?

    After a seemingly eternal pause, Carol turned her head toward Roger.  They stared into each other’s eyes a moment.  Then they came to life.  Carol dropped the PDA again.

    I hadn’t expected that Alfred would let this go on.  I had stood there breathing deeply, trying to regain control of myself after Roger’s beneath-the-clothing caresses, expecting that this would be the end, that Alfred would stop what had ceased to be a fantasy, that I would have to pull my clothing together and regain my composure.  I’d have to help Roger gather his equipment and then get him out of the room so I could satisfy myself.

    When the laptop screen lit up with “Take them off,” I had the wind knocked out of me.  What had my husband done?  Was he so excited that he’d lost control?  Did he really want to see me naked, being caress by (and caressing) a naked man?  

    I was still holding the PDA.  All I had to do was hit the escape button and it would be over.  That’s what I should do.  I knew that.  But I also knew that Roger’s caresses in the view of my husband had brought me to a new pinnacle of arousal, that this fever pitch of excitement was something I hadn’t felt since I was losing my virginity, and that Alfred was telling me to go on.  

    It wasn’t that big a deal, I rationalized.  It was just more of the same, only without the clothes in our way.  That was it.  Alfred just wanted a better view of what we were already doing.  If he wouldn’t, I would certainly stop it before we went beyond this heavy petting.  I turned to look at Roger.  Yes, I wanted his hands back on me, I wanted to feel his naked chest, to feel the smooth skin of his erection.

    Purposely, I dropped the PDA.

    Roger slid the clothing off my shoulders, my jacket, blouse, and bra all together.  I had raised my arms to unbutton his shirt, but had to drop them so my clothing could slip off.  Then, topless, I returned to opening his shirt and pulling it off.  I ran my hand across his hard chest, covered with just enough soft hair to emphasize the masculinity of his pectorals.  I fingered his little nipples.  Then he pulled me close to him and kissed me again, pressing my naked breasts against his muscular chest.  My hands explored his bare back as his tongue once again invaded my mouth.

    It didn’t take long before we had rid ourselves of the rest of our clothes.  When I became aware that Roger’s hands had been working on the button of my skirt, I turned my attention to his belt.  When my skirt and his pants had fallen, we stopped a moment to step out of our shoes.  While he took off his socks, I carefully rolled down my panty hose.  I wasn’t yet that abandoned that I wanted a run in them.

    Then we looked at each other, naked except for our underpants, his erection pushing his boxers out.  I didn’t look down to see if the wetness I felt between my legs had soaked through.  With his eyes on mine, Roger stepped out of his briefs.  I stood there looking at his smooth, hard, circumcised penis pointing directly at me.  He stepped closer, pressing it against my belly, and pushed my panties down.

    Then we were naked.  He eased me down onto the bed.  He stopped long enough to pick up the PDA and place it on the night stand next to the laptop.  Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the webcam following me to the bed.  Roger laid down next to me.

    He kissed me again and his hand moved once more to fondle my breast, teasing my nipple between his thumb and forefinger.  I placed my hand on his penis, felt its warm, silky smooth surface, its rigidity under the skin.  I softly stroked it up and down, then reached below to gently grasp his balls.

    His hand was now between my legs, his finger easily slipping into my damp vagina, sliding in and out.  His thumb pressed on my clit, massaged it, rolled it round and round.  I tried to stroke his penis up and down, my fingers wrapped round it, but I was distracted from this effort when he slipped another finger in me, opening me wider.  I found it hard to concentrate on anything but the intension pleasure that was radiating out from my vagina.

    I relaxed and gave myself over to the sensations.  He was bringing me rapidly toward a climax.  Just a little bit more and I’d be there.  Then, I noticed the webcam zooming in on my crotch and realized again that Alfred was watching.  That almost pushed me over the breaking point but I managed to pull away from Roger’s ministering fingers.  I didn’t want to come just then.

    Instead, I turned my attention to servicing his penis.  I returned to stroking it, brought my other hand over to fondle his balls, and turned my body so I could get a better, close up view.  My hand moved up and down, wrapped around his penis, savoring the smooth skin of that hard rod.  I wrapped the thumb and forefinger of my other hand tightly around the base of his scrotum and gently tugged, pulling on his balls.

    Roger, whose hands and face were now close to my crotch, was gently sliding his finger tips along my labia.  He spread them apart and gazed into my opening, studying me intently.  One finger made an exploratory invasion, sliding around my open labia and then finally slipping deep into my vagina.

    My stroking and tugging were having an effect.  I could see a drop of clear fluid forming at the tip of his penis.  This transparent drop, on a rigid penis that had turned almost purple from the surge of blood going through it, looked so tempting to me.  

    Before I went any further, I forced my self to let go his scrotum, reach across to the night stand, and press the PDA.
    There was my wife, naked on the bed with a stranger, fondling his hard prick only inches away from her hungry gaze.  His face, in turn, was scarcely at a greater distance from her cunt, which he was avidly finger fucking.  Was I crazy to have allowed this?  What was wrong with me that I would actually derive an intense erotic pleasure from seeing my wife so completely engaged in sexual play with another man?  Yet I did, indeed, derive an incredibly intense erotic pleasure.  I had dropped my pants and was pumping away on my stiff cock with my fist, watching a video display more exciting than I ever could have imagined.

    God!  In my most intense fantasies I had not anticipated the thrill that these erotic images, coupled with a surging fear, could instil in me.  It was like a wild amusement-park ride, where you allow yourself to be thrust to the very limits of terror in order to savor the thrill.  It was dangerous.  It was insane.  Yet I watched it with an unrelenting passion that my rational mind could not bring under control.  Like the roller coaster fanatic, I wanted more.

    My choices now were “Oral sex” and “End the fantasy.”

    I realized now what was happening.  My wife was forcing me to decide, to lead her.  She would only go ahead if I told her to.  If she was going to pursue my fantasies, it would have to be with my explicit approval and encouragement.  I couldn’t just wander in and find her cheating.  If I wanted to see her blow some other guy, I’d have to tell her to do it, explicitly, step by step.  She was making me steer the ship.  I could have no recriminations later.

    Did I want her to go ahead?  It all seemed so natural.  The image of the two of them, their faces so close to each other’s naked and engorged sex organs, was vivid in my mind.  I wanted to see her put her mouth on that prick, lick it, take it in.  Yes, I wanted to see him bury his face between her legs, force his tongue up into her cunt.  I was completely out of control and didn’t even hesitate as I clicked on “Oral sex.”
    
    I was not even looking at the laptop or the camera.  I had returned all my attention to that marvelously inviting penis in my hand and was staring at hungrily.  It was only when I felt Roger’s tongue teasing my clitoris that I glanced toward the laptop and saw the indication of my husband’s approval.  I had forgot the reservations that I had only recently had.  If Alfred wanted to see me suck Roger’s penis, I was going to suck Roger’s penis.

    By now, more of the clear fluid was seeping out of the end of that penis.  I gathered it in with the tip of my tongue, not getting enough of the sticky fluid to actually taste it, trying to get more.  I stroked Roger’s hard rod with my fingers and licked in larger and larger circles around the hole that was still exuding fluid until I had run my tongue over the entire head of the penis.  

    Roger’s tongue was only casually licking at my labia.  He seemed to have paused in his attention there, the better to enjoy what I was doing to him.  With my full concentration now on his penis, I took the head into my mouth and swirled my tongue around it.  Then I began to seriously go about seeing how much I could swallow.  I sucked up and down on it, taking it deeper and deeper into my mouth with each stroke.  I had always been proud of my ability to do this, ever since I had learned how to avoid gagging, and now I pushed that stiff penis further and further into my mouth, past my tongue, into my throat, until my lips could feel his pubic hair.  Up and down I slid my mouth while at the same time I was pulling on his testicles.  I could hear his breathing get heavier and, while I was at first tempted to bring him off into my mouth, I eventually thought better of it and reluctantly released his penis.

    That was a signal for him to return to my vagina.  Now his licking got more serious.  He swung his body around until he lay between my legs and alternated running the tip of his tongue around my clit and driving his whole tongue as deep as possible into my vagina.  He was lapping up my juices and I was providing more and more as he did so.

    I threw my head back, brought my arm over my eyes, and concentrated on the intense feelings being generated between my legs.  Now he was sucking fiercely on my clit while, at the same time, pushing his thumb as far into me as it would reach.

    I had lost all will power.  I could feel the orgasm coming on, bubbling up within me, and I willed it forward.  I wanted to come.  He must have sensed this, because he suddenly pulled his mouth off me, reached across me, and pressed on the PDA.  

    Why?  Why had he stopped?  But seeing him poised between my legs, his erect penis glistening from my saliva and pointed at my vagina, I knew.  He wanted to fuck me and was supremely confident that my husband would tell him to.
    It was fantastic.  Seeing her gobbling up his prick, kissing it, licking it, sucking on it - it was wild.  I had imagined such a scene many times, but it was nothing like this.  This was the real thing.  I was watching my wife blow Roger, swallowing more and more of his cock until she had the entire length of it in her mouth.  In and out it went.  I was watching another man fuck my wife’s mouth.  And I was stroking my own cock in time with it.

    Then, when he began lapping her cunt, his tongue doing all sorts of tricks, I watched close-up for the first time the expression on her face as she fell under the spell of a thorough cunt-sucking.  Of course, whenever I was eating her, my face would be between her legs.  I couldn’t see the expression of ecstacy that had so captured her face.  I couldn’t see until now that I zoomed in on her face how every plunge of the tongue was reflected in the curl of her mouth as the tension built up within her.  She was going to come.  I knew that expression.  I saw her face begin to tighten into a grimace.  Any second now.

    And then it stopped.  Her look turned to one of puzzlement.  It was only when I zoomed out that I saw the cause of her consternation.  Roger had stopped and pulled his head away from her cunt.  He was kneeling between her legs, reaching across her towards the PDA on the night stand.  And then he must have pressed it, because the video image vanished.

    In its place was a screen that said, “This is your final choice.  It is your last chance.  You must irrevocably decide.”  The choices were “Fuck him” or “End the fantasy.”

    The starkness of the choice brought me back to reality.  This had gone far enough.  I had been delirious with sexual excitement during it all, but it had to stop now.  She was my wife.  I had been thrilled out of my mind to watch her play with and suck another man’s cock, to see her on the verge of orgasm from his finger fucking and cunt licking.  But I couldn’t have her actually fuck him.  That would be going too far.  Fantasy was one thing, but this was reality.  I knew that I was the only one she had fucked since we had married.  She was mine alone and I wasn’t about to yield that privilege.  It was time to end the fantasy.  Confidently, I moved the cursor and clicked on my choice.

    Sometimes we are not fully in control of what we do.  Whether it was the excitement of the moment, the nervousness of the decision, the finality of my choice, or a misreading of the words, for whatever reason, as I had begun to make my ultimate choice, as I was moving  the cursor to end the fantasy, I had somehow clicked on the WRONG CHOICE!  I had clicked on “Fuck him.”

    “No!” I screamed aloud, “That’s not what I meant.  You know I wanted to end it here!  Stop!  For heaven’s sake, STOP!”  But it was all too late.  The screen came on again to show Roger lowering his cock to her cunt, rubbing the tip across her glistening cunt lips.

    What had I done?!

    I knew what I should have done.  I should have taken the PDA and hit the “escape” button.  I should have stopped it.  

    But knowing what you should do and doing it are often two different things.  I was, in fact, well past the point of no return.  I had been stimulated to a fever pitch.  I had been brought to the edge of orgasm.  I was in no mood to react rationally, to do what I should do, to protect my husband from his own fantasy.  I wanted, pure and simple, to be fucked.  I wanted that big, fat cock in my cunt so badly that I doubt if I would have stopped even if my husband had tried to stop me.  So when the screen on the laptop boldly proclaimed “Fuck him,” I screamed “Yes!,” as if my team had just won the Superbowl.

    Roger seemed fully under control.  He rubbed the tip of his penis along the edges of my vulva, just barely separating the lips.  I pushed my pelvis up, to try to capture it, but he would go no deeper.

    “Is this what you want?”

    “Yes.”  My voice was husky and I could barely get out a parched whisper.  “Oh, yes!”

    He lay on his back and pulled me over him.

    “Then take it.”

    I was crouching over him, looking down at him, my hair streaming down, my breasts swaying freely above him.  I reached between my legs, grabbed his upright penis, and brought it to my vulva.  I spread the labia with my other hand and then began to slowly settle down, his penis penetrating bit by bit into my vagina.

    The noise of the camera zooming into the connection I had just formed with Roger reminded me that my husband was watching.  “This is what you wanted to see, Alfred,” I thought.  “This is what you wanted, and now you’ve got it, and I’m glad because this is what I want.  I’m fucking Roger and it is so, so good.”

    And it was.  I was rocking my pelvis up and down, riding up until I was just barely perched on the tip of that penis and then plunging down until I had it entirely within me.  Roger began thrusting upward to match my own efforts.  He grasped my ass with his hand and helped me on my downstrokes.  I pumped harder and harder.

    If Alfred wanted to see me fuck, if he wanted to see my ass hump up and down, if he wanted to see my tits swinging, this was his opportunity.  Yes, I thought, I’m fucking Roger and my husband is watching.  This is his dream.  He wanted me, he encouraged me, he told me to do this so that he could watch with his stiff cock in his hand, stroking it up and down.  Watch me fuck, I thought, watch me screw Roger, see his cock go into my cunt.  Watch me!

    And then I stopped thinking.  I no longer had a brain.  I was all cunt.  I was panting and humping and grimacing and I could feel the rumbling of the volcano shaking within me and I was screaming and I was coming.  The first wave rocked me like an earthquake.  It was followed by a series of aftershocks that encompassed my entire body and much of the world around it.

    A few moments later, between a couple of those aftershocks, I could feel Roger tense up and give one final thrust.  His eyes closed, his face tightened, and I knew he was pumping his sperm into me.  That action precipitated a major secondary wave through me, causing me to almost lose consciousness.  I collapsed on top of him.

    I have no idea how much later it was that Roger gently rolled me off him and got up.  He picked up his clothes and quickly dressed.  He leaned down, kissed me softly on the lips.

    “I’ll come by and get you for breakfast tomorrow.  I’ll get my equipment then.”

    And he was gone.  I raised my head enough to see him go out the door.  Then I looked around the room and noticed the webcam, it’s red light indicating it was still on.
    How could I have hit the wrong choice?  Was this somehow what I really wanted deep down inside?  At first I didn’t want to look.  I closed my eyes as if that would somehow erase the scene from reality.  But I had left my wife naked, her legs spread, offering herself to Roger’s stiff cock, which was nestled up against her cunt.  And I had told her to fuck him!  I had led her to this moment, created the fantasy, nursed it, nourished it, and step by step led her into the reality of it.  And now she was going to do it.

    When I opened my eyes, Roger was lying on his back, his stiff cock sticking up in the air, and Carol was mounting him, positioning herself above his cock, taking it in her hand and placing it in her cunt.  She slowly rocked herself down on it, and then she was fucking away.

    This was the image I had long had in my mind, the one I had conjured up in my fantasies, which I had shared so many times with Carol.  Seeing her pumping up and down on that stiff prick, seeing it go in and out of her, watching her ass hump, her tits swinging with her motion, her hair flying, this was what I had fantasized seeing, this was my ultimate dream.  And while I was screaming “No!” I was eagerly watching her fuck and fisting my cock.  My heart was pounding in my chest, my stomach surging, and my eyes were glued to the screen.  I watched her face.  I saw passion in it, I saw pure sex, I saw it distort in what in other circumstances might look like pain or anger but here instead showed uncontrolled passion and lust.  There was the tightening of her face muscles, the screwing up of her features, the grimacing and clenching of her jaw.  And then there was the stiffening and the sudden wild tremor as if the dam had burst.  It was all there before my eyes and I was watching it and ejaculating, my cum splattering on my hand, my legs, and even on the keyboard in front of me.  I watched Roger give a final thrust and knew he too was ejaculating, however his cum was shooting up into my wife’s cunt.
                                            
    There was a period of calm for all of us.  I sat there, my cock slowly softening and shrinking in my fist.  Roger moved first, rolling out from under Carol, getting up and dressed, giving her one last kiss, and leaving.  With the camera, I followed him until he had closed the door behind him.

    When I turned the camera back to Carol, she had lifted her head and was looking around.  She looked toward the camera for a moment and then I saw her reach for the laptop.  She typed in a few words, then picked up the PDA.  Suddenly the camera started turning and I had no control over it.  She had taken control finally.  The camera rotated around the room, zooming in on her clothes on the floor, then up to the rumpled bed, and finally back to her.  By the time the camera got back to her, she had rotated her body around so that her feet were pointing toward the camera.

    Slowly she spread her legs apart and the camera zoomed in, aimed at her cunt.  Closer and closer it came until her cunt almost filled the entire image.  

    This is what she wanted me to see.  She was showing me her swollen labia with Roger’s semen slowly leaking out from between them.

    After a minute or two, the screen went blank.  Then a message appeared, letter by letter.  “I’ll see you tomorrow.  I LOVE YOU MORE THAN ANYTHING.”

    I would have to wait until tomorrow to tell her how much I loved her.
                                    
    THE END

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