My Greatest Fantasy

I've heard that a lot of guys get off on seeing their wives fucked by another man. What sick fucks! Who would ever want to see another guy's cock in the snatch of your own special woman, whom you love and adore, whom you courted and married to keep her all to yourself for the rest of your life? Who could ever want those sweet lips, which you kiss in passion to be wrapped around the slimy dick of some other man? Who wouldn't recoil at the thought of alien semen squirting down her throat or up her beautiful vagina? What kind of sick fuck could contemplate such an event and not go running in a tear for the bathroom to collapse over the toilet in a series of dry heaves and hot sweats?

I was that kind of sick fuck, and it sickened me to realize it. Every time Priscilla and I were in bed making love, I kept thinking, I wish that every man in the world could see how beautiful this woman is, and what a perfect pussy she has. How they would envy me for what I possessed. I imagined how proud I would feel watching another man feeding his hot cock into her steaming pussy. I actually wanted to figure out some way to get my wife fucked by someone other than myself. I made myself sick.

We had been married for ten years now, but it was still wonderful. We both worked all day, I as an advertising executive, and Priscilla as one of the top market researchers on Wall Street. Of course she made twice as much money as I did, but what did that matter?

Every night we'd come home, tired, but happy to see each other. We would go out to one of the small restaurants in the neighborhood, and have a nice dinner and a bottle of fine wine, and I would look around at the other tables, and take note of all the other couples, and often I would notice that the man was much more attractive than the lady, and I would think to myself, "what wouldn't he give to be in bed, fucking my beautiful wife," and I would get so aroused that I often had to squeeze the napkin on my lap in my excitement.

It was wrong. It was perverted. It was un-American. But I couldn't help myself. My greatest fantasy was to see my beautiful wife get plowed by another man. To watch her suck his cock. To see another man's cock plowing her still-tight pussy or her virgin asshole, which I didn't dare to invade. But another man could dare what I couldn't dare.

And try as I might to stifle it, the sickness grew and grew within me, and I had to admit to myself that my greatest fantasy was to see my wife get fucked every which way by another man.

It got so bad that every time we got into bed and prepared to have sex, I had to imagine that I was some other man (other than myself) that was going to fuck my wife, in order for me to get an erection. She never knew she was not fucking her husband all these nights, but a myriad of dark and swarthy strangers which I had conjured myself to be.

I could imagine myself sitting in an armchair at the foot of our bed, while some monstrous brute defiled her. He would be lying on top of her, and his powerful buttocks would be clenching and hunching as he stroked his massive cock in and out of her wet cunt. I have always felt that the male buttocks were the real engine driving a good fuck, and I liked to imagine Priscilla getting a really good fuck.

I know that I am not the world's greatest stud, and I have always felt that I might have been a better fucker if only I could have watched my own strong lean buttcheeks hunching and dimpling as I plowed my cock into my wife's pussy. But that was impossible. How can you watch your own ass, when you're fucking someone else?

I jokingly suggested to Priscilla that maybe we should get into swinging. At least maybe try a threeway.

"With whom?" she asked suspiciously.

"Some other woman," I said evasively. I didn't want her to know what I really had in mind. She would expect me to want another woman. Any normal man would want another woman. I was not normal.

"No way!" She said emphatically.

"Well, maybe another guy?" I ventured timidly. I mean after all, that would be good for her, wouldn't it?

"Absolutely not," she said.

"But why not? You would love it. Imagine having two cocks at once. One in your mouth and one in your pussy. Just think about it."

"My mother didn't bring me up to be that kind of girl," she said. And that was the end of that. It was too bad she was so middle class and bourgeois, and wouldn't allow herself the pleasures of new partners and sexual exploration. I knew if she got into it she would love it. She would want to do it all the time. But how to get her started? I was afraid to even bring up the subject again.

Even though I couldn't bring up the subject with her, the fantasy haunted me. It was all I could think about. I started hanging around chat rooms on the Internet. People were really doing all kind of crazy unimaginable things. I wondered if it was for real, or if it was just their own fantasies that they were projecting. But it was making me very horny. I was spending hours every night with my computer instead of being in bed fucking my wife, where I should have been.

Late one night, she got out of bed and came to the door of the little room where I had my computer desk. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Just reading the morning papers," I said.

She gave me a funny look. "Well, come to bed. It's late."

"Okay. In a minute." I shut down my computer. I had a pretty good hard-on from thinking about some of the things that had just been related in the chat room, so I went into the bedroom and practically raped my wife. I pretended to myself that I was Alan, the college boy in the chat room, who was describing how he had fucked every pledge in Alpha Theta Chi, the sorority next to his fraternity house.

"Oh, baby. Give me that sweet pussy," I said. "I'm so hard for you."

She was surprised. I had never been so aggressive. "What got into you?" She asked me.

"Let's fuck," I said, and began kissing her breasts, which was turning her on. Then I went down and began some serious work on her clitoris until she was screaming either for mercy or for cock. I gave her the cock. As it sank into her wet hole, I imagined I could see the two of us, as if from an armchair at the foot of the bed, only I was not me, I was Alan, who was very muscular and handsome, even though I didn't really know what he looked like.

Up to this time, I had been merely a lurker in the chat room, which was called the 'Forbidden Desire' room. I had been staying quiet on the side and not typing anything in, until one night some guy named Rocco Cocco 473 showed up in the room, trolling for some instant action.

"Any hot pussy in the Bayville, New Jersey area tonight? Big cock here needs to fuck wet tight pussy. Instant message me for a private chat 'Rocco Cocco 473'

I don't know what made me do it, but I messaged him, and we were on a private connection.

Tibi: Hi. (I was Tibi. Like TB----Theodore Bernard, my first and middle name.)

Rocco Cocco 473: Hi there, Tibs, baby. What's up? Tell me all about yourself. Are you wet?

He thought I was a woman. I wondered if I should go along with the deception. It was tempting. He was getting me hot. But then he would want me to send a picture or turn on my webcam, and what would I do then?

Tibi: Tell me about you, Rocco. Do you have a big cock?

Rocco Cocco 473: You better believe it, baby. How does nine and a half inches sound to you? And fat.

Tibi: It sounds wonderful. I wish I could see it.

Rocco Cocco 473: I wish I could see you. Do you have big tits? What size are they?

Tibi: Well, they're not very big. ( to put it mildly)

Rocco Cocco 473: You got a webcam baby? We can look at each other.

I had a webcam, but it was disconnected. And there was no way I could look at Rocco Cocco 473's cock without exposing my gender.

Tibi: I do. But it's broken. I'm saving up for a new one.

Rocco Cocco 473: Damn. I sure would like to see you. You live in Bayville?

Tibi: Yes. I do.

Rocco Cocco 473: Great. I sure wish I could see you. What are you wearing?

Tibi: Just my slip.

Rocco Cocco 473: And nothing else?

Tibi: Just my slip.

Rocco Cocco 473: Great. Are you fingering yourself?

Tibi: Yes.

Rocco Cocco 473: Are you wet?

Tibi: Yes. Are you hard?

Rocco Cocco 473: You bet. You want I should drive over? Tell me where you live.

Tibi: I can't tonight. Did you want to jerk off?

Rocco Cocco 473: Yeah. Maybe. You got a picture you can send me?

I thought to myself. I had some pictures of Priscilla I had taken on the beach in the Virgin Islands recently. I had bought a new digital camera, and they were all in my computer. I could send him a picture of Priscilla.

Tibi: Okay. What's your e-mail address?

Rocco Cocco 473: roccococco473@hotfile.net

I wrote it down.

Tibi: Hold on. I'll send it now.

Rocco Cocco 473: Great, baby.

Tibi: Just one sec.

I minimized the instant message and went to my e-mail account and typed a little love note to roccocco473. "I wish you were here with me right now, fucking my hot pussy with your big thick cock. I would also like to suck on your big thick cock, and then have you put it back in my pussy. How does that sound?????? XOXOXOXO Tibi.

Then I clicked into 'My Pictures' on my computer and found a particularly stimulating photo of Priscilla stretched out on a lounge chair in her bathing suit next to the pool with a Tom Collins in her hand. She was gorgeous. He would die when he saw this. I attached it to my e-mail and clicked 'send'. Then I closed my e-mail and brought Rocco back up.

Tibi: I sent it. Did you get it?

Rocco Cocco 473: Let me check.

Pause

Rocco Cocco 473: Yeah. I got it. I'm printing it out. Hot damn. You are one hot looking lady. I wish I could come over right now. Please?

Tibi: No. Not tonight. I can't. Some other night. I have to go to bed. Did you want to jerk off first?

Rocco Cocco 473: Yeah. I printed out your picture, and I'm looking at it, and I'm pulling on my big hard dick, which is all hot and hard for you baby. Tell me how much you like it while I'm fucking you.

Tibi: Yes. Oh. It's so big. And so thick. And I can feel it parting my lips now and sliding all the way, far into my hot wet cunt, which is so wet because I've been fingering it while thinking about you fucking me. And now I can feel your hot cock inside me and it feels so wonderful. So wonderful. Fuck me. Fuck me.

Rocco Cocco 473: I'm fucking you now with my big thick cock. Do you like anal, baby? Did you want me to put it up your asshole?

Tibi: Oh, yes, Rocco. Fuck me up my asshole. Put it in my asshole right now. AAARRRRGGGHHH. Ow. It hurts a little. But it also feels good. I like it. Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck my hot ass.

Rocco Cocco 473: Keep talking. Keep talking. I'm almost ready. Keep talking.

Tibi: I love your big cock inside my tight hot asshole. I want you to shoot your cum inside of me. Now. Right now. I want to feel you come. Tell me when you're shooting.

Rocco Cocco 473: Oh, Christ, baby. I just did it. I shot all over everything, coming in your sweet little asshole.

Tibi: That was so wonderful. I can feel your cum burning inside of me. I want to keep it inside me forever.

Rocco Cocco 473: So when can we get together for real, baby? Don't you want to really feel it inside you?

Tibi: I do. I do. I want it so much. But I don't know when we can get together. I'm a little busy right now.

Rocco Cocco 473: At least give me your e-mail. We can write each other little love notes and make plans to meet.

I knew it was probably imprudent, but I had really gotten off on pretending I was Priscilla. Was I a sicko or what? I gave him my e-mail address.

Tibi: Tibi@universomail.com

Rocco Cocco 473: Great. I'll write to you. I'm not gonna let you get away from me. That's for sure. I can't wait to plant my cock in those sweet hot holes of yours. For real.

Tibi: Me too. Got to go now. Love you.

Rocco Cocco 473: And I love you, baby. Night Night.

I closed the instant message and shut off the computer. I went down the hall to my bedroom and gave Priscilla the best fuck I had ever given her in our entire marriage. Of course, I imagined that I was watching Rocco Cocco 473 fucking her and not me, and I didn't know what he looked like, but I conjured up an exciting image. It was great. But it would get even better. I would have to figure out a way to get Rocco Cocco 473 into our bed, while I sat in the armchair at the foot of the bed, and jerked off, as he fucked my beautiful wife.

The next morning, we got up and had a quick breakfast, and Priscilla left for her office. I was about to leave for mine, but I had a little suspicion. I went to look at my e-mail to see if there was anything there. And there was. There was the usual---Cheap Viagra. Grow an inch on your penis. There is money waiting for you in Nigeria, but first you have to send a check to.......etc. etc. And then there was the one I was looking for. My heart was pounding. Subject:: Fucking your hot holes, baby. From: roccococco473 To: Tibi. I clicked on it.

"Hey baby. It's me. I told you I wasn't gonna let you get away from me. I want that hot body of yours. But for real next time. I want to fuck you so bad. When can we get together? Waiting to hear from you. My cock is hard again just thinking about that luscious body of yours. Rocco.

I clicked 'Reply' and wrote: "I want your big thick cock just as much as you want my pussy and my asshole. I will try to figure something out. I will get back to you. XOXOXOXO Tibi.

Then I went to the office.

The next several weeks were terrible for me. We had a constant correspondence going. We didn't connect on instant message again. I was afraid. I was so caught up in this strange affair that I was afraid I might slip and give him my address. And then what would I tell my wife, whom he would think he was coming to fuck???? A puzzlement. N'est-ce pas?

And the letters we exchanged were sizzling. Full of longing and undying passion. He kept asking me for my address. He really wanted to meet me and fuck me for real. Why wouldn't I give him my address?

I was doing sloppy work in the office and I almost lost a big account with a stupid ad campaign. But my mind was elsewhere. It was sitting in the armchair at the foot of the bed watching roccococco473 plunge his large penis into my wife. I wanted so badly to know what he looked like. Wasn't there some way?

Finally I admitted to him that I had been putting him off because I was married, and what would my husband think if he ever found out I was having a Cyberaffair with Rocco?

"Okay," he wrote back. "Now, I understand. You have an old man. That's okay. I have an old lady, but she's no good for the next six months. She's preggo and the doctor says she can't fuck. But she's a pig, anyway. I wouldn't mind getting rid of her. She sure don't look like you. Love. Rocco.

"Oh, Rocco," I answered in my reply. "If only there were some way." I was going to keep this going as long as possible.

Then one day he sent me an e-mail. "I have to meet you. We'll work it out. I work in a bar downtown. I'm a bartender. Maybe you could stop into the bar some day around four o:clock in the afternoon when it's nice and quiet????? Waiting to fuck you, Your loving Rocco.

"What bar?" I asked in my reply. Maybe I could just go in for a drink and see what he looked like. Then I would really have a picture of who was fucking my wife when I was fucking her. Not that I was fucking her much anymore. My thoughts were completely full of my bogus romance with Rocco, with me as Priscilla. Sick. Sick. Sick.

I didn't hear from him for a couple of days. I think he was as afraid to give me his address as I had been to give him mine.

Then the letter came. From: roccococco473 To: Tibi Subject: When? The body of the message was as follows: "I bartend at Corcoran's Bar and Grill, 792 State Street. Wednesdays, Thursdays, and Fridays from 3 to Midnight. Come in around 4. When can you come? Love, Your hot and horny Rocco.

Reply: Don't know. I'll get back to you. XOXOXOXO Tibi

I had it. I had his address. I could go in there and see what he looked like and he would never know. I was jubilant.

But would I even dare to speak to him? To tell him that I had been leading him on, that the woman in the picture was my wife, and I might be interested in letting him fuck her if I could arrange it. I didn't know what to do. But just in case, I put a picture of Priscilla (in her bathing suit) in my wallet. He might punch me in the nose if he ever realized he had been sending sex letters to another man. It was a tricky situation. Maybe I would just go in and have a drink, and he would not even imagine that I was Tibi.

It was Wednesday afternoon and I left work a little early. I told them I thought I had a fever, and I think I really did, but just from anxiety. My forehead was clammy and my hands were sweating, and I was trembling a little.

I drove to State Street and parked in the State Street Garage about one half block away from Corcoran's Bar and Grill. The parking meters were only good for one half hour, and I couldn't keep worrying about parking meters. I had other things on my mind.

As I walked up the street toward Corcoran's, I admired the shiny new motorcycle chained to the parking meter right in front of the door. I had never been on a motorcycle, but had always wanted to try it. It looked exciting. To be tearing down the highway, with cars and trucks on every side and the wind beating at your face. I was thinking that the wind would be blowing through my hair, but I realized that you had to wear a helmet. I opened the front door and immediately smelled beer.

The bar was empty. It was early. I was the only customer. The man behind the bar was a powerful looking dark complexioned man of about thirty with black curly hair and eyes that were almost black. He looked as if he hadn't shaved in several days. He was wearing a tee shirt that said "Hell for Leather," and as a matter of fact, he was wearing leather pants with straps that went over his shoulders. His biceps bulged beneath short sleeves of his shirt, and there was a tattoo on each arm. His left arm said "Mother," and his right arm said "Judy." He was very sexy looking. I knew that this had to be Rocco Cocco 473. I took a seat at the bar and he looked at me, waiting for me to speak.

"A rye and ginger," I said.

"Sure thing," he said, and began filling a glass with ice. "I haven't seen you here before," he said.

"No. I was driving by and felt like a little pick-me-up. But don't let me drink too much, because I'm driving," I said kiddingly. I thought maybe we could strike up a conversation.

"Okay. I'll watch you," he promised me. "Two drink limit, and I'll go light on the rye."

"Sounds good to me," I said. "Is that your bike out front?" I asked. I was sure it was.

"Sure is," he said proudly. "Brand new Harley. Cost me my next three years pay, but it's a beauty."

"It sure is," I said. "How long have you been riding motorcycles?"

"Seems like my whole life. My father was a motorcycle freak. So was my mom. So I guess I come by it natural like. In fact, I'm the president of the local chapter of The Highway Saints."

He seemed very proud of that. I had always heard that they were a bunch of rough, foul-mouthed hoodlums, as were their women. No wonder he wanted to fuck Tibi. She had class.

"I've never been on a bike," I told him. "I wonder what it would feel like."

"Fuck. If I didn't have to work here till midnight, I'd take you for a little spin down the highway."

"You would? I would really like that. Maybe we could do it some other time. Maybe I could try to get back around midnight some day???"

"Sure. I'd be glad to do it. I even got an extra helmet." He looked up at the clock and swore. "Fuck. Four fifteen. I gotta put another quarter in the meter. Hey, would you be a good guy and put a quarter in for me, so I don't have to leave the bar?"