Fantasy, Reality and Intimate Love Pt. 02

She’d even pondered on her previous comments a week or so earlier to Allan when she’d convinced him that size was unimportant, that technique was better. She’d even convinced herself. That was until she had met Kris, his very size had aroused and enchanted every nerve cell in her body like she’d never ever experienced before. And these sensations had occurred from both her front entrance and the tradesman’s entrance! Sex without love is just fucking, sex with love is something special, making love is more than physical, it’s emotional, spiritual and ……well, all sorts of things. Yet wild rampant sex was still something that Beth needed and, until recently, sex with Allan could be achieved as role playing within their little fantasy world. But fantasy sex with someone she perceived as Allan, or who Allan approved of, was exciting and different. It wasn’t special in the same way as love making was, but Beth knew she needed a combination of someone to make love to her and someone to fuck her. She wondered if Allan could fulfil both roles, if she’d be satisfied with just Allan. The alternatives, however, were potentially hazardous and emotionally destructive. She recalled the cocky little Londoner who’d punished her.
Beth closed her eyes tighter, trying to shut out the image of Simon, the cockney wide-boy who she was sure had ravaged her whilst she was unconscious. She’d never be able to prove it, nor would she ever want to relive the matter but she was certain he’d not let the opportunity pass him by. As far as she was concerned, however, she’d experienced Kris in all her holes and that was it. That’s what she’d told Allan and, for now he’d been content with that, and that is what Beth had tried to convince herself with, unaware that Allan had seen some of what had gone on. But her self conviction didn’t always work, as she recalled her views on size and technique.
“Come on, sweetheart” Allan prompted, noticing the plane was almost empty of passengers. He stood to get their things from the locker above them. He handed Beth her small clutch bag which she had her passport in, the very same clutch bag she’d had that fateful night with Kris. Beth held it close to her body, aware that together with her passport and a few Euros. She’d not had the opportunity or, in fairness, the inclination to use the darned thing. She felt guilty about it but Allan had not asked her about it and she’d not offered any information. Economic with the facts! Beth believed she was getting so good at bullshit, maybe she could be the next US president or UK Prime Minister!!!
The cool polluted London air hit them as the departed the plane, a long way from the soaring temperatures of Ibiza, the hot beating sun, the warm sea breezes, the refreshing odour of nearby lemon groves and other citrus orchards.
Beth had made a pact with herself, that never again would she let situations get out of control or put her in a position of being unable to make her own decisions. Sure, the alcohol and stuff hadn’t helped, it had made her hornier than she might have preferred. On reflection, however, she’d never been so fulfilled, certainly not sexually, and that was not a poor reflection on Allan. She sighed to herself, wishing she’d sown her wild oats before she settled down with Allan, he was a darned good bloke and didn’t deserve her infidelities. He’d been true to her all through their marriage, it was a shame she couldn’t say the same. Yet, it had been his idea, his own suggestions that had lead her into such a situation so whilst she felt guilty, the guilt was offset by the knowledge that Allan had been as much responsible for the affair – poor choice of words – as she had.
They had wandered through the terminus, joining the long queue for passport control and Beth could still feel the crinkling on her thighs. She’d bathed, showered and dipped in the pool so many times yet still she could feel the sensation of semen, some one else’s semen dribbling onto her thigh and drying out. She felt dirty, yet exhilarated.
That had been five days ago. Now they were home, Allan was another year older thanks to a birthday and she was ……..what? Older? Wiser? More experienced? A slut?
What confused her more was Allan. He was carrying on like nothing had happened, just another day in paradise. She had gone through hell and high water, put herself through a series of degrading experiences, been subjected to rough sex, unprotected sex, group sex and in front of an audience yet Allan was behaving like all she’d done was to put the kettle on! Was Allan a voyeur? Evidently, yes. But was she enough for him? Beth hoped so, she’d sacrificed so much to keep Allan interested, she loved him so deeply, she’d acceded to his demands only because she loved him so much.
They milled through passport control and into the baggage reclaim area, Allan getting a trolley to put their cases on. They’d been in the airport for some time, content in each others company yet very few words being spoken. Beth desperately wanted to talk about her experiences, a problem shared is a problem halved and all that old baloney. But what could she say?
“Hey, Allan! What was the best part of your holiday? My favourite part was when I was gang fucked!” She could hardly say that. She couldn’t tell Allan that she’d fantasized about fucking him when she was riding on Juan’s erection. She felt terrible about confessing that she’d found Kris fantastic, his dick touching parts of her she never knew existed. That even when Kris had fucked her anus, she’d actually enjoyed it, felt very little pain. Hell, what the fuck had he put in that drink of hers? Whatever drugs were in the drink, it must have been darned strong! Should she tell Allan?
No, she’d keep that to herself. Maybe she’d confess to one of her girl friends later, if she thought she could trust them. What a responsibility for them, though, to keep a secret of that magnitude to themselves. If Allan ever found out, he’d be devastated. How could he love a cock hungry tart like her, little knowing that she’d had very little control, that the concoction of substances had overpowered her reasoning. No, Allan must never find out. Beth knew that as much as she needed to get it off her chest, she might just need to keep the secret to herself. She had no idea that Allan had witnessed pretty much all of it.
She was so in love with Allan yet sex with other guys was great, or was sex with the guys she portrayed in her own mind, as part of her fantasy role playing great. This was more than soft swing, this was full sex, no holds barred. And it was blooming great whilst stoned or pissed. In the cold light of day, however, Beth was in two minds.
“Smile!” Allan suggested. Beth looked up into his eyes and saw the love within them. How could she not smile when he looked at her that way.
“That’s better” Allan said, pushing the trolley laden with their luggage. “I don’t want you looking guilty as we go through customs!”
It took a few seconds for Beth to realize he was joking. The she smiled.
“Why? What are you packing?” she said, teasing him.
“Oh, you never know!” Allan said, coyly. Beth patted his jeans with the palm of her hands.
“Are you trying to smuggle a giant Frankfurter or are you just pleased to see me?” she joked.
“Frisk me and you’ll find out” he said. They both laughed. One thing was for certain and she’d told Allan on the night she’d visited the VIP lounge that “Things might never be the same again”. Beth would never realize just how true that might turn out to be.
Allan smiled as she placed her arm in his and they wandered through the airport like lovers on a first date, their honeymoon period still in full swing. Swing! Allan pondered the thought. Could the word ever mean anything else to him one day? He doubted it.
“So” Beth said, interrupting his thoughts.
“So? What?” he asked, looking into her dreamy eyes, his heart melting as always as he did so.
“Where are you taking me for my birthday then?” she asked. Fear spread across Allan’s face, the thought of another holiday like this one, his wife’s cunt being plundered by another (an another and another…….)
Beth smiled at him.
“Silly arse!” she said, playfully poking him in the ribs. “I don’t want a surprise holiday for my birthday” she said, noticing relief spread across Allan’s face. He breathed a deep sigh and Beth giggled.
“But I tell you what I would like” she said, her hint dropping not in the slightest bit subtle.
“Anything” Allan replied, glad the holiday was out of the question.
“Are you familiar with the word ‘Maserati’?” she asked. Allan’s face paled again as they left the airport through the sliding doors. Then he realized the joke.
“I thought you’d be better with a Harley Davidson” Allan replied trying to contain a smirk, “You know, something hot and throbbing between your legs………”
Beth clouted him with her clutch bag.

Chapter 11

Allan sat at his computer and sighed. His holiday was over and it was back to the routine of work and, as he’d expected, his email box was jammed solid with emails. He guessed it’d take him a week to read, answer and delete his emails by which time, another load would have descended upon him. Reports here, accounts there, requisitions, meetings, memo’s.
Allan sighed deeply, if only he’d won the lottery, he wouldn’t need to bother with all this shit. Allan made a mental note to send his next email to Mystic Meg and see if she could pick his numbers this week! It was a crap idea but it was the best he could muster on a Monday morning he mused to himself.
“Welcome back, Allan” a familiar voice called. Allan turned and saw his colleague, the one that had introduced him to the concept of soft swing. “You have a good holiday?”
Allan nodded although his face told a different story.
“What’s the matter, mate?”
“I’m not sure myself” Allan said. He looked like a guy who’d lost a fiver and found 50 pence, his emotions creating wrinkles on his young 25 year old face, the likes you’d normally expect on a 45 year old face.
“I don’t like having a glum chum, tell you what. I’ll buy you a pint at lunchtime, you can tell me all about it” he said, patting Allan on the shoulder and wandering off to his meeting, a folder full of charts and figures to bore his audience with. It was one step short of death by powerpoint.
Allan was in no mood to discuss his private affairs – bad choice of words! His private life then. God, he’d felt excited, elated, aroused, curious, horny yet, simultaneously, he felt disappointed, saddened, depressed, cheated, foolish. He’d encouraged Beth to indulge in his fetishes and fantasies, he’d only himself to blame.
His buddy had consoled Allan over lunch at the local wine bar as they tucked into their Coronation Chicken baguettes.
“Beth must be one in a million mate” his friend had said having just swallowed a mouthful of crusty bread roll. “She must be so devoted to you, you’re so lucky”
“What do you mean, lucky? She’s allowed other guys to fuck her. She’s married to me, I thought that meant something” Allan sighed, gazing at his food but having no appetite.
“You silly arse! None so blind as those who will not see!” the colleague stated. He’d known Allan for some time and felt comfortable being honest with him, even if it meant being quite curt. “I don’t know that many wives who’d go to those levels to accommodate their husband’s whims and fancies, I can tell you. She’s obviously so devoted to you. Most guys would give their left arm for a woman like that”
“A woman who cheats?” Allan said, not really meaning what he said but unable to find the correct words.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, get your brain out of your pants, will you? I mean a woman who would even consider teasing another guy just to boost their hubbie’s ego. I’ve been involved in the soft swing scene for a few years and I can tell you, there ain’t many women who’d be prepared to go to that level and those that do are usually lacking something in their relationships so they need to look for something more. You and Beth don’t need to…….” he said, pausing to sip his half finished Guinness, “…….you have so much with each other, you guys are so in tune. It’s like you’re still newly weds 3 years into your marriage. Christ, even Posh & Becks couldn’t brag like that. No, what you guys have got is special, never forget that”
Allan sighed. He knew his mate had a point but he was having trouble seeing the wood for the trees.
“I can’t forget that, it’s true” Allan agreed. “There’s other things I can’t forget either. And besides, it seems Beth forgot what we have……..or should I say, had!”
“Oh break out with the violins, shall we?” his mate asked, pretending to play an air-violin, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. She did it ‘cos you, not her, you wanted her to. You got reservations, beat yourself up but don’t take it out on Beth. She’d the innocent one in all of this and, from what you’ve told me, she’s been to hell and back. She needs your support and your love. She’s made the ultimate sacrifice for you, the least you can do is repay her by loving her. Nothing’s changed from Beth’s perspective, she still loves you. Can you say the same about her?”
Allan drew breath to give his mate a piece of his mind……..then paused. Bollocks! His mate was right, he’d hit the nail on the head.
“I’ve been a prize pillock, haven’t I?” Allan asked, meekly. His mate nodded.
“Prize Champion Pillock. You always aim to be the champ and on this occasion, you’ve won Gold, my friend!”
Allan gave his colleague a sideways glance showing an air of contempt yet 99% appreciation. Then he smiled.
“Thanks for that. You’ve made me realize what I had, I still have. I was just being blinkered, my vision blurred by my own ego. Cheers!”
His friend held up his now empty Guinness glass. “Fill her up and we’ll call it quits” he said, smiling. Allan stood to go to the bar when his friend looked Allan in the eye.
“What are you guys doing next weekend, the 15th?” he asked.
“Nothing” Allan replied after a brief pause. “Why?”
“Well…..” his friend said, standing and walking to the bar with Allan, “……..there’s some friends of mine throwing a party over towards Sutton Coldfield, I think you’d like the party. Plenty of alcohol and some ‘stuff’……” he motioned inverted comma’s with his fingers, “…..and you can stop over if you want, so you don’t have to drive. We’re all pretty laid back and it may get a little raunchy but you guys can come and just watch if you want, the hostess is lovely, Caron her name is and she and her husband, Richard have………”
“Hold it” Allan said, “Is this one of your swinging parties?”
“Don’t knock it before you’ve tried it” his mate said, patting Allan on the shoulder. “Think about it and let me know”
Allan turned to place his order at the bar. Of course he’d tell his mate straight away what his answer would be. “No”. But Allan never said the word. His mate had just told him some home truths and he’d certainly been 100% accurate with that. The least Allan could do was to give the party some thought.
Maybe, he’d politely forget to give his friend an answer. Maybe he’d talk to Beth. Maybe he’d invite Beth and feign surprise when the party got into full ‘swing’ as it were.
Maybe. For now, he’d just get the drinks in and mull the idea over………
For now, anyway.