Fantasies Fulfilled

"You're a lucky man," he typed.

"Thanks," I replied. "So, Eva isn't able to do that?"

"No," he wrote, "she gags about halfway down. And it's not because I'm huge, trust me. I've seen your photos, and you have me beat."

I laughed. "Well, it's a shame. It feels amazing."

"I'll bet it does," he responded. Then, after a pause, he wrote, "I wonder if Monica would be willing to show us her talent."

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"Do you have a Skype account?"

I was very hesitant to mention Luke's request to Monica, as I wasn't sure how she would respond. Convincing her to let me post naughty photos of her had been easier than I had imagined, though. Maybe her adventurous side was blossoming quicker than I ever imagined.

I gathered my courage and shared Luke's proposal after a couple of glasses of wine the next night. As expected, she adamantly refused at first. I could tell, though, that somewhere deep down, she wanted to do it. I got the impression she wanted to show off her skills to an appreciative audience. In the end, it didn't take much cajoling to convince her.

I set up our laptop at a strategic height and positioned Monica in front of it. She insisted on wearing an old Marti Gras-style mask she found in a junk drawer to hide her identity, as she was paranoid about Luke and Eva surreptitiously recording the Skype session. I assured her that they would never do something like that, but she didn't want to take any chances. I had to admire that she was always very cautious about protecting her reputation.

Luke and Eva appeared on our screen while our own image appeared in a box in the corner. They smiled and waved at us, and seemed almost giddy with excitement. Monica returned their salutation while I stood awkwardly off-camera, completely naked. I was so excited about what was happening that my dick was already standing at full attention.

Monica chatted with the two of them for quite a while, as if she were trying to postpone her performance for as long as possible. For a minute, I actually thought she would chicken-out, but then she turned and smiled at me, and beckoned me with her index finger.

When I stepped in front of the camera, I paid close attention to Eva's expression. Her eyes widened and she nodded her head and smiled. "Wow," she said. "Impressive cock you have there, Neil!"

My ego swelled instantly. I chuckled and gave her the thumbs-up sign. Monica didn't waste any time getting down to business. She grabbed me by the cock and pulled me toward her. She kissed the tip and then slowly and dramatically took it into her mouth. With each inch that disappeared from view, I felt her swirling her tongue, just as I had taught her so many years ago. It felt as amazing as it did the very first time.

After spending quite a bit of time building up to the big moment, she took my cock completely out of her mouth and paused for just a moment, as if admiring a glistening work of art. I never took my eyes off of Eva. She was absolutely captivated. Her lips parted, and I could tell she was breathing heavily. Monica's mouth made its descent down my shaft toward its final destination. Eva's eyes widened, as did Luke's. I felt Monica's nose nestle into my pubic hair, and I knew she had swallowed the full length. She held herself there for a dramatic pause before slowly retreating.

She removed my cock from her mouth, turned to the camera and smiled. "Ta-da!" she exclaimed with a giggle, raising her hands in the air.

Luke and Eva both applauded and congratulated her. "Amazing!" Luke exclaimed.

"I'm impressed," Eva added. A bit of an awkward moment followed. No one had considered what would follow her demonstration. At last, Eva spoke. "Well? Are you going to leave the poor guy with blue balls? Look at it! It's twitching!"

Monica laughed. "I'll take care of him; don't worry." She patted my cock like it was a puppy.

"While you do that, he's going to take care of me," Eva said. "I'm all hot and bothered after that performance!"

We bid them good night and Monica made good on her promise. I took care of her as well - three times, by my count.

***

We continued our correspondence with Eva and Luke for the next several weeks. The ladies seemed to get along like old friends, and Luke and I had developed an odd sort of kinship as well. Although our conversations touched upon every topic imaginable, sex was clearly at the forefront. Plenty of flirtatious remarks and sexy innuendos were exchanged, and everything was shared openly in our group conversation. After a while, it seemed natural to share so much personal information with these strangers. Through the course of those conversations, I even learned a few things about my own wife.

Monica had always been very reluctant to share her sexual fantasies with me. Every time I brought up the topic in the past, she would insist that she didn't have any fantasies. I would insist that she was holding back from me, and sometimes that led to some mild arguments in bed. I found it impossible to believe that someone could have no fantasies, as sex had tended to dominate my thoughts since puberty.

During one of our conversations with Luke and Eva, we were sharing our most outrageous sexual fantasies. Eva admitted that she was a little curious what it would be like to be with a woman. To my surprise, Monica admitted that she, too, was a little curious.

That night, while lying in bed together, I tried to coax more deep, dark secrets out of her. As always, she was reluctant to share.

"Let's not have this conversation again," she groaned.

"Well, why not? You've really opened up in the past couple of months. Look at how adventurous you've become! Hasn't it been fun? All this time, I never knew you had such a naughty side to you. It only took a little nudge to release that inner slut!"

"I'm not a slut!" she protested, slapping me hard on the shoulder.

"You're my slut," I said with a wink. "And I like it when you show your slutty side. It's exciting! So tell me what other naughty thoughts you have trapped inside that beautiful brain of yours."

"I've told you before," she said, "I'm not as sex-obsessed as you are! I don't really have any fantasies. I've had a few naughty dreams, but that's about it."

"Okay, tell me about one of your dreams."

She sighed. "I...ugh...it's embarrassing. How about you tell me what your fantasies are instead."

"Only if you go first," I said.

Another sigh. "Fine. I had a dream once where I was blindfolded and couldn't move. I was lying on a bed or a rug or maybe even the grass outdoors. I suddenly felt all these hands all over my body, touching and rubbing me everywhere. Then I felt lips and tongues and...other body parts...all over. Then I woke up. That's it."

"That's hot," I said. "See? That wasn't so bad sharing that, was it?"

"Now what about you?" she asked.

"Well, you know my fantasy about cumming on—"

"Eww, yes," she groaned. "I know about that. What else?"

"Okay, well, I suppose it's every man's fantasy to have a threesome."

"Well, that's never going to happen," she said with a chuckle.

"Of course not," I said. "That's why they're called fantasies. I have so many other fantasies that will never be anything more than that. Believe me, I've come to grips with the fact that most of my fantasies will never happen. I'm rapidly approaching the Big Four-Oh. The time to sow my wild oats passed a long time ago."

She was quiet for a long time. The words seemed to weigh heavily on her. She wrapped her arm around me and rested her head on my chest. "I feel guilty, like I've denied you some experience that I can or won't give you. Sex has never been that important to me, but I know it is to you. I feel like I've been selfish."

"Nonsense," I said, stroking her hair. "You're the perfect wife, and I'm perfectly happy. Sex is important, but it isn't all that there is. Our marriage is far more important to me than any fantasy. The older I get, the more I realize that there are certain things that I will never do. I'd love to play shortstop for the Cubs, but that ain't happening. It's not as if I've denied myself some experience that I can't live without. If I made it seem that way, I didn't mean it. I'm very happy with the life we have, and I don't need anything more, trust me."

***

The invitation seemed innocent enough. "We should get together sometime" is often repeated among long-time friends as an expression of politeness. Although the sentiment is genuine, it is often forgotten shortly after it is uttered. When Eva made that suggestion during one of our online chat sessions, I responded with a polite and non-committal, "Yeah, that would be fun."

"Do you really want to get together with them?" Monica asked after reading that message. "I mean, we don't even know these people."

"I'd argue that we know them better than most people," I said. "But I was just being polite. I hadn't really considered actually meeting with them for real."

We lived just outside of Chicago, while Eva and Luke lived in the suburbs of Boston. The distance between us had allowed us to be more comfortable chatting with them, as we assumed there was no chance we would ever encounter them. In reality, they were only a three-hour plane ride away.

"What do you think they mean by 'get together'?" Monica pressed me. "Like, just meet them for dinner and drinks? Maybe go bowling together? Or do you think when they say 'get together' they mean..."

Honestly, that suggestion hadn't even occurred to me. "I don't think they mean sex, honey! I mean...they're like us. They've never been with anyone but each other. They like to flirt online with us, just like we do with them, but I don't think they actually mean we should all have sex with each other...do they?"

"I...I don't know," she said, nervously. "I mean, I like them both. They seem like so much fun, and I'm sure we'd all have a blast together. But hopping in bed together?"

"We don't know that's what they're proposing," I reminded her. "All they said was 'let's get together.' That could be anything; something completely innocent. Let's just not mention it again unless they do."

More than a week went by before Luke sent us a message formerly inviting us to stay with them in Boston. In an earlier chat session, I learned that Luke and I shared the same favorite band. That band was touring for their final time ever, and would be performing in Boston in June, during the first week of Monica's summer vacation. It was perfect timing, really. The concert was on a Thursday night, and they suggested that we could stay at their place as long as we'd like.

"He says there are a bunch of great Irish pubs near their place," I said to Monica. "And some outrageous seafood places. It could be a really fun long weekend."

"I don't know," she said. She twirled her hair on the end of her fingertip, which was one of her nervous habits. "It just seems weird to me, hanging out with people we met online. People we've seen naked - and vice-versa! I don't want it to be awkward. If they're thinking we're there to have sex with them..."

"I don't know why they would think that," I responded.

"Oh, I don't know," she laughed, "maybe because we all talk about sex all the time and we've even watched each other have sex! I mean...we've practically had sex with them already!"

I rolled my eyes. "Come on. Don't be ridiculous. I'll just ask them, straight-up. Then we'll know for sure."

"That's embarrassing!" she exclaimed.

"After everything we've said and done with them, how much more embarrassing could it get? It's a legitimate question."

I was conflicted as to the response I was hoping to get from my question. On the one hand, I had never considered having sex with these people, and the mere thought of it unnerved me. On the other hand, I couldn't deny that the idea was exciting. At the very least, it was exciting to think about it.

I wrote to Luke that night and asked him as diplomatically as possible about their expectations for our proposed visit. He responded diplomatically as well: "Well, that's up to you two, really. We have no expectations. If you two just want to hang out, that's fine with us. If you're looking to push the envelope a little, I think we would be open to that, but there's no pressure either way. We're just looking to have a fun time with good people."

***

I was stirring some sauce in a pan on the stovetop, waiting for the chicken parmesan in the oven to finish cooking, when Monica received a phone call on her cellphone. I would have thought nothing of it, but turned around quickly when I heard her gasp loudly. She placed her hand over her mouth and her eyes reddened. I froze in place and waited for her to finish her call.

She nodded several times and sniffled. Her eyes welled with tears. I waited patiently, completely perplexed as to what could have prompted this reaction. Naturally, my first thoughts went to the darkest places. Had something happened to Kaitlyn? Or maybe Monica's mom or dad?

After an excruciating amount of time, Monica removed the phone from her ear and turned toward me with a horrified expression. "That was Maureen," she said. "Jim had a massive heart attack last night. He's dead."

Maureen and Monica had been friends since childhood. They grew up on the same street together and attended school together from kindergarten through high school. The four of us got together on a fairly regular basis, sharing holidays and special occasions. Maureen married Jim two years after our wedding. He was only a few years older than all of us, but he kept himself in top shape, and raced in at least one marathon each year. As far as we knew, he never had any health problems whatsoever.

Monica spent a great deal of time at Maureen's house over the next two weeks helping with the arrangements, coordinating travel and lodging plans for their family, and supporting her friend in any other way possible. Needless to say, our ongoing conversation with Luke and Eva was placed on the backburner indefinitely. I explained to them what happened, and they completely understood and offered their condolences.

Monica and I were both devastated by the loss of our mutual friend. We spent many nights simply holding each other. No words were necessary. The unspoken words were as powerful as any we could have articulated. Jim's life was taken from him without any warning. It was a grim reminder of just how fragile our lives are, and how swiftly and unpredictably they can be taken. It made us appreciate the moments we had together even more than we did before.

The services came and went. Eventually, as it always does, life returned to normal. Monica and I returned to our daily routines. I would come home from work and cook dinner while she graded papers or prepared her lessons for the following day. After dinner, we would spend some quality time together in the living room, watching television or reading. We would then retire to the bedroom and repeat the same pattern the next day.

Our sex life returned to "normal" as well, with the bar of normality set to where it had been before our online exploits. We returned to our Friday night schedule, always in bed, and always with the lights out. I didn't complain. We were still in mourning, and sex hardly seemed to be a top priority for either of us.

On a Monday night in bed, I had just closed my eyes when Monica spoke.

"I was thinking," she said, "maybe we should make that trip to Boston."

It had been so long since we discussed it that it took a moment for me to realize what she meant. "Really?" I said. "What made you think of that?"

"I've been thinking a lot about what you said before; about getting too old to do all the things on our bucket list. The older we get, the more things we'll be forced to erase from that list forever. I'm sure Jim had a long list of things on his bucket list. He probably thought he had plenty of time to check them off. But look what happened."

Maybe it was the glass of wine I had consumed before heading to bed, but I felt like I wasn't fully comprehending the magnitude of what she was suggesting. "Honey, what bucket list items are we talking about here?"

She hesitated for an extended moment. "You know. The fantasies that you were talking about. We could make them all happen. What's stopping us?"

I couldn't believe what I was hearing. "Monica, what are you saying? You think we should have sex with them?"

"I was just thinking...why not? Like, what's stopping us?"

I rolled over and flipped on the lamp so that I could read the expression on her face. She appeared to be serious.

"I...I don't even know how to respond to that. I've never actually considered either one of us having sex with anyone but each other."

It was true. In all our years of marriage, I hadn't ever seriously considered having sex with anyone but her. Sure, there was the occasional fleeting thought. I'd see an attractive woman somewhere and think, "boy, would I like to bang her." But to act on that impulse is something that never crossed my mind.

Similarly, the thought of Monica ever having sex with anyone but me was absurd. She was always so prim and proper. I know that she must have been propositioned daily throughout our marriage, yet I was one-hundred-percent certain that she never gave in to temptation even once. I highly doubted she had ever considered it.

"Okay," I said after considerable thought, "let's make a mental list of pro's and con's."

She rolled her eyes and sighed. She always hated my pros and cons idea, but she had learned to live with it. It was just how my mind worked.

"Con," I began. "Could you really let me have sex with another woman? Could I let you have sex with another guy?"

"That's not a con," she said, "that's a question. That's the question we're trying to answer with your dopey pro/con method."

"Okay," I replied. "Pro, I guess: it would be fun. Something different. Exciting. Something out of our comfort zone."

"Pro," she replied, "you can do that thing you've always wanted that completely grosses me out. And maybe even experience a threesome."

"You'd really let me do that?" I asked.

She thought about it a moment and then nodded and flashed a wicked grin. "Why not? You only live once!"

"Okay," I said, "this is probably the biggest con I have: what if this hurts our marriage? What if one of us falls in love?"

She laughed. "You really think that's a risk? Are you going to fall in love with Eva just because you have sex with her? Will she be so good in bed that she'll cast a magical spell on you?"

"Well, I read somewhere about hormones and intercourse," I said. "It's a chemical reaction. Science."

"Okay, you're talking to a science teacher here, remember?" she scoffed. "What you're talking about is a temporary reaction. A rush of endorphins. A fleeting high. Trust me, I've known plenty of women in my lifetime who have had sex and didn't fall in love. As much as you men would like to believe it, your sperm isn't a love potion."

"Okay, fine," I said. "Pro: you get to be with a muscular bald man, who apparently you're into."

She laughed. "I've always liked bald men. You know that. I've told you for years about my crush on Vin Diesel."

"Yeah, but that's a safe crush," I noted. "The odds of you ever running into Vin Diesel are practically nil. Luke is an actual man who you can actually have sex with."

"True," she said, "but so what? Would you be jealous?"

"I...I don't know," I said. "What if he's better in bed than I am?"

She chuckled again and shook her head. "Honey, I've never been with anyone else, so I have no way of comparing you to anyone else. I don't care how good anyone else is in bed. I would still rather have sex with you. Besides that, they live halfway across the country. It's not like we would ever have to see them again."