Fulfilling His Fantasy

Author's notes: Warning! This is a cuckold story, albeit a different kind of cuckold story, one with no humiliation of the husband and one which shows character growth in the end. I have attempted to write an erotic story, rather than a pornographic one. This is not a Whack off story, but it does have a lot of sex in the last part.

#When I first submitted to Literotica, my goal was to improve my writing skills to the point I could one day sell stories. Thanks to your constructive comments, I have reached that goal, but with minor success. I invite your criticisms and suggestions, anything that will help increase that success. Thanks-thecarolinadreamer

#My sincere thanks to "Oscar", who provided the Spanish phrases and encouragement along the way. All characters are over eighteen and the entire story is fictional. Any similarity to actual persons is coincidental.

*****

"Hey, Ben, you seen the new gal in the office yet?" Ben hadn't seen Larry, the would-be cock-hound, this excited since the last clerk had been hired.

"Not yet. How does she look—pretty?"

"Not too bad for an older lady. Hair is almost auburn, wears it shoulder length, probably in her late thirties, shape you'd dream about," he used both hands to outline a shapely female body, "and EYES—man you should see those eyes. Brown, but not just any brown. Man! Those things sparkle when she smiles and the skin around them sort of wrinkles up and you wish you could just sit and stare all day." Larry was talking so fast others in the area were beginning to notice.

"Calm down. You sound liked you did when Mary Beth Harley, the Homecoming Queen, agreed to let you take her to the prom." Ben remembered how sure Larry was that he'd finally get a little bit. He had gotten so excited—just about like he was now, so he'd probably get the same results as he got back then.

Ben and his date had been parked less than two car lengths behind Larry and Mary Beth. It was a hot night, the windows were down and he clearly heard Mary Beth tell Larry to stop. Of course Larry was too full of himself to listen, and the next sound Ben heard was a loud slap and a demand to be taken home. Larry's old Ford convertible tore up the grass getting out of there. Later, when Larry bragged about 'doing' Mary Beth three times, Ben had just played along.

"Yeah, and I bet I could make her squeal, just like I did Mary Beth."

"No doubt," Ben could hardly suppress his smile. "You ask her yet?"

"Man, you don't know this chick," Larry shook his head and continued, "She acts like she's Royalty or something. I couldn't get more than two words out of her when I introduced myself." He indicated the other men in the lab with a wave of his hand. "I wanted to get the jump on these other stiff dicked studs but..."

"What were the two words?" This from a workbench a couple rows over. "Fuck you?"

"No Man, you'd never hear that word out of this chick's mouth. Man, I'm telling you, she's high class—Government Inspected Grade-A-Meat." Larry looked around the room, trying to catch each man's eyes. "You guys gotta see this gal. I'm telling you; she acts like a dick wouldn't melt in her mouth."

"You men better stop worrying about which mouth your dicks would melt in and concentrate on keeping food in yours." No one had heard Mr. Johnson, the Section Foreman, walk up.

"You've seen her, haven't you, Boss?" Larry just didn't know when to shut up. "Tell them; tell them how fine she is."

Mr. Johnson just shook his head before calling the section together. "You men just as well get the news straight before you start hearing rumors; this company has been sold to a Spanish family. That 'hot chick' you just heard Larry rave about is none other than Mrs. Geronimo, the wife of one the owners. Her first name is Irene, but I don't recommend you use it unless she asks you to."

"At this moment, Oscar Geronimo, her husband, is over in the main office getting to know every detail of the operation from that angle. Mrs. Geronimo's job is to learn what happens down here in the trenches. It's to our advantage to see that she likes what she sees."

"Sheet, Boss," the unknown voice piped up, "what's not to like about us?"

"Okay—it's your asses. I can retire anytime. Get back to work. All except you, Jones; you come with me." Surprised, Ben followed him over to the main supervisor's office, wondering how he'd screwed up.

Entering the office area, he tried to spot this new angel/devil that was supposed to have appeared on the scene. She wasn't sitting with the rest of the clerks; maybe she had an office to herself.

After getting both of them a cup of coffee, Mr. Johnson got right down to business. "Ben," he said, "you are going to be a major factor in the success or failure of this company under the new owners. You know the operation as well as anyone, so until further notice you will be Mrs. Geronimo's personal guide and assistant. You'll work for her and answer to no one else, but you damn sure better keep her happy. Show her what she wants to see, and take her where she wants to go. To paraphrase the old saw, when Mrs. Geronimo ain't happy, ain't nobody happy."

With that said, he led Ben into the great lady's office. She was sitting with her back to the door, studying what appeared to be a report. Ben did a double take when she turned for the introduction. This woman was everything Larry had claimed and then some. She rose to meet him with a reserved, yet somehow friendly smile, and when she did, Ben understood what Larry meant about her eyes; they made an otherwise attractive woman, absolutely gorgeous.

"Please call me Irene," she said, and the sound of her voice made Ben think of the Angel Choir scene in a movie he once saw. If he wasn't in love he was at least in lust.

The next three weeks were like rush week at college. Ben and Irene put in twelve hour days, pausing only for a bite from the canteen when Irene felt the need to eat. She told Ben to speak up if he got hungry, but he wasn't about to admit she could do anything he couldn't do. Finally, at the end of a long Saturday, the rat race ended.

"You have done a great job, Ben." Irene gave him that million dollar smile. "You deserve a reward." Over the last weeks Ben had begun to think she really liked him. More than once, as they sat close together going over papers, their thighs touched and when Ben rubbed against hers just a little more than necessary, she hadn't flinched. In fact, she had begun coming out of her shell and even started laughing and joking a bit.

"Do you know a good place to eat; a place with good food, where a girl can get a decent wine, and maybe dance a bit?" Irene asked. They had finally quit work at mid-afternoon Saturday.

"If you don't mind country music and call steak so tender it falls apart in your mouth good food, O Henry's can't be beat."

"Suena bien, think we can get reservations for around eight?"

Ben chuckled. "Lady," he said, "they wouldn't know what a reservation was if one hit them in the face. You just get there at eight, you'll get a seat."

"Genial! I'll meet you there at eight, my friend. I suppose a causal dress will be fine. I can't wait to get out of this business suit and into something that makes me feel like a woman."

"Just don't get too formal. When I say country, I mean country—boots wide belt buckles and all."

*****

Irene breathed a sigh of relief as they parted. Things had gone better than hoped for. The plant could remain mostly as it was and still make a profit. She had really been impressed with Ben. He would remain her right hand man as long as she and Oscar remained in this country, and when she left, she fully expected Ben to play a major role in continuing operations.

She remembered the day Ben had first been introduced to her. She recalled thinking, "Uauu, esto si es un hombre!" If I decide to make Oscar's fantasy about seeing me with another man to come true, I'm looking this fellow up.

The following weeks did nothing to dissuade her opinion. Ben was hard working, dependable, yet he was full of fun. Best of all, he didn't push on her. She was quite reserved by nature, notwithstanding her persona as a slave driver on the job. Gradually Ben had wormed his way into her confidence; now she would even flirt a little when nobody else was around.

She smiled when she thought about how sparks seemed to fly, for her at least, the first time they touched—really touched. They had been sitting close together, going over some figures, when she twisted in her chair, causing her leg to rub against Ben's; the next thing she knew, his hand was resting on top of her leg with his fingers extending down to her inner thigh. She'd jumped in surprise, but Ben didn't move his hand, and for some reason, she didn't push it away. They just continued to sit, legs pressed together, Ben's fingers gently stroking her inner thigh, while they checked the report for errors. Anyone walking into the office would just see two people, hard at work. From that point things had advanced to the point where she looked forward to the times when Ben touched her body, and Ben had touched her often, albeit seemingly innocent.

Finally, last night things went further than ever before. They were walking to their cars in the dimly lit parking lot. Ben was lightly guiding her around the potholes when she stepped in one. Except for Ben's quick reaction, she'd have sprawled flat on her face. "Ay, que me caigo" she muttered, but Ben's strong arms stopped her fall before she even skinned a knee.

When Ben grabbed for her; both hands had landed on her breast. He stood there, supporting her, but still cupping her in both hands. When she didn't immediately break away, the scamp actually rolled her nipples between his thumb and forefinger. Now she felt a tingle in her loins, just thinking about it. Si, she decided, Oscar needed to decide if he really wanted his fantasy to come true.

For four years now, Oscar had been trying to convince her that their sex life could be better if she experimented with other men. At first he just wanted to take her to a nude beach. Finally after several months, she'd given in, mostly to just shut him up. While she'd only been nude from the waist up, Oscar had fell right into the spirit of it all. That day was the first time she'd really understood the vast differences in men's cocks.

That difference came into sharp focus when two nude men approached their blanket. She had been sunbathing lying on her back, sunshades protecting her eyes, pretending to sleep, while Oscar applied sunscreen in all the right places. She had watched the approach, their dangling pollas swinging like pendulums. Oscar stood to meet them, when they drew nearer; they stood and talked awhile, and then he brought them over to meet her.

When she sat up, she was staring at three cocks; at that moment she first realized the old saying, "When you've seen one, you've seen them all," was a lie. Oscar's little fellow was between four and five inches long, depending on just how excited she could get him, and about as big around as a "C" cell battery; even though Oscar couldn't seem to accept it, that was enough to almost always satisfied her. That day, she got her first look at man sized cocks, the first, jutting off in a state of full arousal, must have been close to eight inches. The unique thing—the thing that made memorable, was the upward curve; it also had more heft than Oscar's.

The rugged Swedish looking guy sported at least eleven inches. Even in its semi flaccid state, it hung almost to his knees and must have been the size of a roll of salami. Irene was staring at it so hard, she didn't catch their names. She remembered wondering if any woman really could take something like that. The strangers stayed to talk and gawk while Oscar strutted around like a proud peacock. As she sat there, taking it all in, she wondered, for the first time, just how cocks that size would feel slipping into her tootie, as she referred to her cunt back then.

After that, Oscar became even more insistent, constantly suggesting new ways to spice up their sex life. She had succumbed to his desire to go nude, but she drew the line at what he called a 'blow job.' She did consent to kissing his cock a few times, but to actually let him stick it in her mouth—yuck! She let him kiss her "down there" once and found it to be okay, but nothing to write home about.

Why did Oscar want to do all these things, anyway? He claimed they weren't getting the full fun out of sex, but she couldn't understand why he thought that. True, he was self-conscience of his small cock, but he'd always been a kind, considerate lover and usually managed to make her cum. The last time they had sex, it must have been three or four months ago, she'd had a very satisfying climax.

She thought it was great, but Oscar started questioning her about whether or not she climaxed. He just couldn't accept her word about being satisfied. Instead he kept saying things like, "You were too quiet to have enjoyed it." Nothing she said seemed to reassure him, and then he reacted in what she thought was a stupid way—he stopped making love to her. That was why she allowed Ben the liberties he'd taken; she was just plain horny, that's what she kept telling herself, but damn—Ben's hands felt good when he rubbed her.

Oscar met her with a kiss when she entered their rented house—it would be more accurate to call it a mansion. The realty agent said the owner was a local playboy, who was on a six month vacation in Europe with his new girlfriend.

He had volunteered this info when showing them the "adult playroom," as he called the bedroom with mirrors on four walls and a big round bed in the middle. A touch of a button revealed Home Theater equipment hidden behind a sliding wall. The man couldn't resist demonstrating how one touch of another button would dim the lights while flooding the room with soft romantic music.

The house was much too big for the two of them, but Oscar insisted that bigger was better, and since they could afford it, why not the best? Same thing with his choice of cars, a black Lincoln occupied his side of the carport dwarfing her little Mazda. Maybe the old saw was right; maybe a man with a small dick did try to compensate in other ways.

"Honey," she said "We have to talk."

*****

Oscar hadn't heard Irene speak in that tone for a long time. He knew something serious was on her mind, so sipping his just refilled cup of coffee; he gave her his full attention.

"Oscar—Honey, you remember how you have wanted me to try another man?"

Oscar couldn't believe what he was hearing, but if she was saying what he thought she was saying, he didn't want to mess it up. "Sure. I think it would do us a world of good."

"Are you sure? She felt she was on the precipice of a life changing decision and she was nervous. "How could my fucking another guy help us?"

"You'd probably learn new techniques—nuevos trucos—tricks we could use to make our sex life better."

"Yes, but what happens if I like the other man better than like you? Have you considered he might be a better fuck? Suppose I don't want to quit after a short fling? What if I want to spend weekends with him, go on vacations with him? Vas a estar de acuerdo con cso? Will you be able to live with that?"

"Honey, do you really love me?"

"You know I do."

"Well, you'll still love me after having sex with someone else. I think the experience will teach you new ways to please me when we're in the bed. We'll still have our life together."

"If that's true, why do so many marriages break up when one or the other cheats?" Irene was still skeptical. Deep inside she thought Oscar was acting like a fool on this one subject, but it had been a long time since she'd felt completely satisfied after they made love. She longed for a return to the old days when her body felt wrung out after a hot sex session, and all she wanted was to fall asleep on Oscar's arm. She was willing to try anything to feel like that again

"Those marriages break up because they didn't really love each other in the first place." He pulled her tight against his body. He loved the way he felt when his stiff little dick pushed against her lower abdomen.

"What about you? Do you need to screw another woman to further your education?" Irene wasn't sure she could accept that.

"No, Honey. You'll pick up new things, and then you'll teach me. You could make me into a custom made fucking machine, just for you." Oscar could be very persuasive when he wanted something, but it was just so hard for Irene to set aside years of believing sex outside of marriage was wrong.

"Just try it once, Sugar. If you don't like it we'll quit and I promise I'll never mention it again." He could tell Irene was almost ready to give in. Now he played the trump card. He was aware that she liked her assistant, Ben, so he said, "Why don't you try it with Ben? I know you find him attractive and you're always talking about what a great help he is—maybe he'd help us with this. I know he's not married, so there won't be a problem with a wife. Hell, he's perfect."

Irene pulled back slightly. She couldn't think straight with Oscar's hard dick poking her, even if it was short. "If you want me to try with Ben, you may be in luck. I was going to ask you if you wanted to join us for dinner tonight. We're celebrating the successful completion of 'Phase One' of our project."

"No, no lo creo. That might not be a good idea. I wouldn't want to get in the way."

"I see what you mean, but there's this; he does work for you and he just might be a little cautious about fucking the big boss's wife."

"Hummnn, you may be right. Tell you what—I'll drop by and spend a little while with you. Then I'll make up some excuse about having to leave, but before I go, I'll try to set his mind at ease on that score."

"How would you do that? Tell him you want him to screw your wife?"

"Why not?" Oscar's excitement about the possibilities of the situation showed clearly. "Come on, Baby, we got to pick out something real sexy for you to wear."

"Hold on—first things first. Don't you think we better set down a set of rules we can both live with? I need to know what your limits are. I love you and don't want to hurt you, so we need to agree on just how far I can go before you get all jodido and want a divorce." Maybe she was being a bit of a hypocrite, considering her thoughts on the way home, but she would quit ahora mismo, cold turkey, if Oscar wanted her to. Oscar was the number one man in her life, even if Ben had managed to kindle a small flame in her loins.

"Let's get it in writing too, none of this thing of one of us coming back later claiming something wasn't part of the agreement."

That set off a conversation that resulted in what Irene would call her "Handbook for Hot Wives". The rules agreed upon were basically simple. Irene could do as she pleased with her dates, so long as everyone was treated with respect. She would try to set things up so Oscar could watch, if not she would always hurry home and tell him all about it. Irene must always return to the marital bed each night—none of these trips out of town or overnight dates.

"I think you're acting foolish, Oscar." She said after they both signed the agreement. "I do love you and you do satisfy me, whether you believe it or not. I love you and want you to be happy, so if I have to act the whore to keep you happy, I'll give it a try." No sense in sharing her thoughts on the way home. They had been embracing and now she kissed him deeply, working her pelvis against the protrusion in his pants.

"Thank you." He tried to slip her blouse off, but she stopped him.

"None of that tonight. At least not until I get back from my date." She pushed him away playfully." "Besides, I need to shower and dress. You wouldn't want to make me late for my first 'hot wife' date, would you?"