Chamomile

They end up talking about it for hours. The conversation is returned to time and again over the following days. He wants to know more. Explore her desire. What she was feeling. What she wanted. Why she did it. How it made her aroused. How aroused it makes her now thinking about it. She tells him everything. Unpacking the object of her desire. The fantasy she has of sleeping with another man. The thrill of forbidden sex. How she wants to be wanted. Wants to be lusted over. It feels wrong but that's what makes it exciting. It feels even more wrong that he knows. She is mixed between feeling gratitude and annoyance with him. He should be angry. He should defend her. Protect her. Not let it happen. And then again she feels liberated. Her libido unshackled. She is a warm blooded adult woman, why can't she have desires for other men and if her husband is turned on by it all the better? His openness is to be encouraged not dismissed.

Eventually they move on. Their relationship is stronger for it. But they keep returning to the topic. When they are in bed she brings it up. Directly or tangentially. They end up at the same place.

What if she went back?

They tell themselves it can't happen. They won't let it. Why would they? It would be different now. It would be premeditated. She would be without the get out of jail free card. She would be responsible. What would it say about them? What would it mean? She finds the thought of sex with another man unbearably erotic and he is turned on by her fantasy. And so the thought doesn't go away.

Then a plan starts to form. She will go back. But just one last time. Get it out of her system for good. She says she will tell him everything afterwards. She is overwhelmed with excitement.

The appointment is made a week in advance. Their anticipation grows as the day approaches. She loses her appetite. Then so does he. At one point she gets cold feet. She wants to call the whole thing off. He coaxes her out of it. His hand up her skirt. Reminding her of her obsession. She ends up telling him how badly she wants it.

When the day comes, she gets ready in front of him. Low lamps are lit. Bach on the radio. She sips at a glass of white wine. She is turned on with the prospect ahead of her. She enjoys the sensuousness of getting ready. Preparing her body for another man. She puts on the silver earrings shaped like chamomile flowers that her husband gave to her as a gift one birthday. She puts on makeup. Nothing overblown. Mascara. A nude lipstick. She shaves her legs. She finds lace lingerie. It gives her a thrill the thought of the masseur peeling her out of them. They are the ones she wears for special occasions. The ones she wears when she wants to feel sexy, look sexy. She wears an emerald green thong. She puts it on matter of factly in front of her husband. It gives her an enormous surge of excitement. She knows it must be like a hammerblow to him. Painful. Pleasurable. She admires herself in the mirror pulling on her tights. Lingering. She catches his eye in the reflection. She pouts her lips as if to say this isn't for him. It is for another man. It is then he wants to tell her to stay. But he is too turned on to speak. He can't think. Her obvious arousal has made him unspeakably horny. She feels so sexy thinking about sleeping with someone else. Her stomach has butterflies.

When she leaves he is beside himself. Head in hands he sits watching the clock. Torn up inside. Images of her overtake his every thought. He imagines her pleasure. Her moaning. Fingers slipping in and out her. Her craving another man's penis. He cannot take it. He goes after her. He arrives outside. He hesitates. He can't go in. Then he does. He asks at reception. He gives her name. He gives his name. He tells them he is her husband. He is desperate. They show him the appointment ledger. He is too late. She has already gone in. He slumps down. He wants to cry. He looks hopelessly at the frosted windows into the spa. Should he barge in? Should he wait? Even now she is in there he thinks. Naked. With another man. It eats him up. And yet he can feel the precum in his boxers. He is super excited. He doesn't want to interrupt. He wants it to happen. He has this image of her on all fours spreading her bum. He holds onto that. He wants her to do that. Maybe she is, even now? The conflict in his mind is slowly driving him mad. He loves it. He hates it. He goes home.

She arrives back home much later. Later than planned. She takes off her coat. Closes the door but doesn't lock it. Puts her handbag down, her keys in the bowl. The lights are out. She hadn't expected that. She takes off her chamomile flower earrings and drinks a glass of water. She goes upstairs. He is in bed. She crawls over to him and snuggles up. She can tell he is pretending to sleep. Eventually he stirs.

He looks haggard. Distraught.

She is positively glowing.

'Tell me' he says.

'Ok. Are you sure you want to know?'

He sits propped up on pillows. She pulls his arm around her shoulders. She feels his thigh. She sees the used tissues next to the bed. She is disappointed. Pleased. Upset. He didn't wait. He couldn't wait. It is pitiful. It is thrilling. The power she has.

'It was a different masseur' she tells him. He runs his fingers across her crotch wanting to feel what has happened. The semen in her pubic hair. Her genitals still engorged.

'So what happened?'.

She doesn't answer.

'Why are you back so late?'

'Something happened.'

'Like last time?'

'Not quite. Let's just say more than one orgasm was had.'

He feels her stirring. Her voice is thick. She is getting turned on telling him.

'You had multiple orgasms?'

'Separate ones. Not at the same time. We did it more than once.'

She is fully aroused. His fingers slipping up and down her vagina. She feels that she has tapped into a pool of energetic frenzy in herself. It is a wildness. He couldn't have stopped her even if he had tried. She wanted it too badly.

'The masseur didn't try anything. No stray brushes. No misplaced fingers. The consummate professional.

I was disappointed.'

'So what happened?'

'Well it finished. He said I could get dressed. I sat up. Towels covering me. Normally this is the moment for him to leave the room. I was aroused from anticipation even then. I had been thinking he would reach down to my buttocks. I had been willing him to. Now he had averted his eyes. Busying himself with folding towels, refilling lotions. He was kind of cute. He wasn't looking but he wasn't supposed to be in the room. I felt so relaxed from the massage. Almost giddy from wanting it so much. That's when I started touching myself. Gently at first. I squeezed my nipples. I rubbed my stomach down to my pubic hair. It was driving me crazy the thought of him turning around. Catching me like this. He wasn't like the other masseur. This wasn't his thing. What would he think? I got carried away. I slid back down on the table onto my back. My legs dangerously apart. I rubbed my clitoris spreading my labia. It felt amazing.'

She feels herself becoming ever more aroused now. He has found her clitoris and is rubbing it gently with his one hand. His other hand is on her breasts. Her vagina is swelling. She is sweating. She isn't sure if she is on the verge of a heart attack. His heart is pounding too. Her mouth has gone dry. She loves telling him about it.

'What happened next? Did he see you?'

'He did.'

'And?'

'Do you want to know?'

'I have to. Every fibre of my being wants you to stop. But I have to know.'

'Well, he watched.' she says.

'Is that all?'

'No. There was more.'

'What else was there?'

'I had given over to abandon. So I can't be sure when he first saw. He didn't say anything. Just watching me. I became aware of his breathing. Of his standing close, standing over me. He didn't touch me at first. He was standing in-between my legs. I climaxed in front of him just like that. He could see everything. I spread my legs as wide as they could go. I wanted him to look at me like this so exposed. I had my legs bent. My pelvis forward. I was washed over with hormones, with post orgasmic calm. We made eye contact. There was...I don't know...'

'What?'

'A spark. An attraction. He had taken his penis out. He placed it between my labia on my clitoris. Stimulating me with the head of his dick. I wanted him to fuck me so badly then. Really go to town. He could have done anything to me.'

She is breathing heavily.

'He never broke eye contact. Millimetre by agonising millimetre he entered me. I felt my vagina clinging to his penis. This primal part of me sucking him in. I wrapped my thighs around him. I felt him grabbing my breasts. How rough he was. Pulling at my nipples. Fingers exploring me, my stomach, belly button, my pubic hair. I lifted my hips, arched my back, felt the warm smacking of his flesh against mine. I loved it. I didn't want it to stop, he was so deep inside of me, it felt like my insides were melting, every part of me stimulated and contracting around him. In that moment all the world disappeared. It was just him and me fucking. I had my teeth in his arms, my nails in his back. I came almost straight away.'

She reaches over to him now. She wants to fuck him. But she stops herself.. She has never felt more sexual. More alive.

'Listen,' she says. 'This is the craziest thing I have ever done. I want what happens next more than anything. My body is humming''

'What do you mean? What happens next?'

'I want to do something more.'

He is silent. His mind is befuddled. He can't think how this could escalate further. She has already told him how she let another man's penis enter her inch by inch.

'Ok' he says at length.

'I wanted to fuck another man,' she tells him. She is quivering. Waves of excitement wash over her. She feels sick. She feels like this isn't her. Like this isn't her husband. There was a time very recently when this would have seemed impossible. And now she is about to say what she was about to say.

She can't at first. She just sits there. He reaches for her and she pushes him off.

'But even more than fucking another man I want you to watch me doing it. That is my ultimate fantasy. I want you to see us together.'

She swallows hard.

'I need you to go sit over there.' She points to the armchair. He obeys.

She still thinks there is time to stop. She doesn't have to take this further. But she is out of control. She wants it too much now.

'You have to watch' she says.

They hear a noise downstairs. Then footsteps. Someone is coming up the stairs. The masseur enters the bedroom.