I think, especially with people who've been married a long time, fantasy plays a large part in the sexual relationship, and I'm absolutely convinced that many married women love to imagine all sorts of things, but would never even be unfaithful to their husbands, in real life.
We've been married nearly eighteen years now, and are well into the fantasy stage. Needless to say, my mind usually dreams up situations involving Mary with other men, something that turns me on more and more as the years go by. She goes along with this happily enough, in our own bed, but it all stops at the bedroom door.
In real life, until recently, I've only ever twice enjoyed a genuine experience of that type.
The first was four years ago, when we rented a holiday chalet for a week. We had glorious weather and spent a lot of time in the swimming-pool, with the kids. We got friendly with two other couples, and often sat together at the poolside.
On the first afternoon, as Mary pulled herself out of the water and walked towards me, I suddenly realised I could see her pubic hair through her swimsuit.
My first reaction was to mention it to her, but I stopped myself - and then began to get a hard-on, imagining other men looking at her.
Next time she went into the pool, I went with her, and went underwater to have a look. Sure enough, when her costume was really wet, her black hair was clearly visible, but it only took a few seconds after she left the water for the hair and the costume to separate, and you couldn't see anything.
But what a horny week I had! This kept me on the boil the whole time, and I was able to pick out the men who had noticed her, and who tried to keep an eye on her, so that they could have a good look as she emerged from the water. They included, of course, the two husbands with whom we became friendly.
Unfortunately, the exposure didn't work on her breasts, but my second real-life experience did involve them - and it was also when we were on holiday.
I had a late week last year, and we rented another holiday cottage on the south coast - just the two of us, as the kids are no longer very keen on going away with us, and, in any case, we wanted a bit of peace and quiet. There was no swimming-pool - anyway, she's got a new costume which is much less revealing! - but it was glorious weather and we spent most of our time on the fairly secluded beach with the rest of the cottage-dwellers.
There were about a dozen cottages - mainly one-bedroom - so most of the holidaymakers were couples and, over the course of the week, most of us got to know each other and shared a few drinks in the pub in the nearby village.
The weather continued fair all through the week and, even at closing-time in the pub on our last night, the night was warm as around sixteen or so of us wended our way back up the sandy track to our temporary dwellings. On the way back, someone suggested a midnight barbecue and, within half an hour, we had a fire going and sausages, chops, bits of steak and baked potatoes were sizzling away happily.
A bit of foraging turned up some bottles of wine and cans of beer and it all turned into a bit of a party. There was no music or dancing, but there was a lot of easy conversation, with jokes that got more and more risqué and, now and again, one of the younger couples would disappear into the darkness of the sand dunes beyond the fire, to the accompaniment of loud ribald comments.
At about half past one, the beer supply started to get a bit low, and Mary, who had had a bit more than usual to drink, "volunteered" me to go and raid our fridge to see what I could come up with. I trudged off happily to the cottage and liberated half a dozen cans of lager and another bottle of sparkly plonk . . . . . .
When I got back to the fire, though, there were only two people there - one of the young couples, Nick and Emma. I could hear sounds of running and laughter among the dunes, but I couldn't see anything, so I asked them what was going on. Nick wasn't very sure, but Emma said she had heard something about a "hunt". When they had come back from a walk along the beach, only the men had been round the fire, and they had all run off as the couple arrived.
I had a curious feeling of excitement as she told me this. Just before I had left, someone had been talking about a book they had been reading about eighteenth century France, when the local gentry, after a good dinner, used to summon the young women of the village to the castle, then release them in the forest, to be pursued on horseback, after a ten minute start, by the noble gentlemen - the prize for catching one of them being fairly obvious . . . . . . .
My mouth dried as I imagined what could be going on in the darkness of the sand dunes, as I dropped the beer and set off, trying to accustom my eyes to the darkness beyond the fire.
Able to see nothing, at first, I followed the nearest noise, then my eyes began to get accustomed to the night, and I saw the occasional shape cresting a dune, then disappearing into a hollow.
There was the odd shout, then a laugh, and then, excitingly, an indisputable feminine squeal. I set off in the direction of the squeal, then reasoned that if it was someone who had been caught, then it would be the catcher who was claiming the reward - not me!
In any case, reason told me, this wasn't eighteenth century France and the reward was unlikely to be more than a slobbery kiss - but I wouldn't mind one - or two - of those, particularly from one or two of the younger wives I had admired during the week.
Then I spotted another figure - definitely female! - running hard, over to my right, about fifty yards away, and I broke into a trot, veering towards her. She began to disappear down into a valley, then I saw, close behind her, two men, who were clearly running faster then she was, and were definitely on her tail.
They, too, disappeared into the hollow, then I heard a squeal and, with a shock, realised it was Mary! I put on a spurt and ran up the dune, dropping, instinctively, into the sand as I reached the top.
She was standing between two men, each of whom was holding one of her wrists. I recognised Peter - a chap of about thirty-five who, judging by his tan and his fit, muscular body was a building worker of some description - and Gary, one of the younger married men, whom I had scarcely spoken to.. All three were breathing hard, and laughing.
"Right, Mary," said Peter eventually, in his deep West Country accent. "We caught the fox - it's forfeit time!"
Mary smiled up at him, and nodded. "It's a fair cop, guv," she said, and, without hesitation, put her arms round his shoulders, and surrendered her mouth to him.
My penis stiffened uncomfortably as they kissed deeply. At first, Peter had his arms round her upper body, then he dropped his right hand and squeezed Mary's bottom through her beach shorts. She relaxed into him for a couple of seconds, then broke off the kiss and stepped back, laughing a little shakily.
"It's a good job for you I've had too much to drink," she giggled. "I only hope Alan isn't looking for me!"
She blew out her cheeks, then turned to Gary. He took hold of her, rather awkwardly, and bent down to find her mouth. She was wearing only a halter top above her shorts and he didn't seem to know quite where to put his hands, eventually settling, like Peter, on her bottom, but not in the same lascivious way as he had. The kiss ended and Mary smiled at the pair of them, quite relaxed now.
"That was nice", she said. "Rounded off my holiday nicely!"
My excitement began to subside and I was on the point of announcing my presence when Peter said "You wouldn't have palmed off a French milord with a quick peck like that, Mary."
"But you're no French milord, Peter, are you?" she replied, but she made no move to return to the campfire, and Peter moved quickly, his arms sliding round her shoulders and his mouth closing on hers again. This time, the kiss lasted much longer and, when his hand dropped to fondle Mary's bottom, she squirmed a little, but didn't remove it.
Their bodies were moulded together from chest to thigh and my cock hardened rapidly as I thought of his erection pressing into Mary's soft belly. Then, suddenly, Mary sprang away from Peter, her hands flying up her back to catch, just in time, the loose ends of her halter ties, which Peter, clearly, had managed to untie while she was locked in his embrace.
Her fingers worked rapidly to tie the ends together again but, just as she completed the bow, Peter put his arms round her again, his hands imprisoning Mary's wrists behind her back. She squirmed determinedly in his grasp, but he had a vicelike grip on her wrists and he slowly pulled her hands away from her halter, which was now tied, loosely, at the back.
"Come on, Mary," he said, quietly and persuasively. "Make it a bit exciting. Look - I'm excited!" Still holding her hands, he stepped back from her and nodded down to his swimming trunks where, even from my vantage point, I could see the stiff bulge of his erection.
"No, Peter," she said, but I noticed her eyes continually straying, as if hypnotised, to the front of his trunks. I, too, was entranced by the scene being played out below me, and I knew I wasn't going to interfere unless Mary got really frightened - and I guessed that, at this moment, any fear she was experiencing was at least matched by arousal. As for me, my arousal was almost painful, and I was praying that Peter would chance his luck a bit further.
Peter glanced over to the silent Gary, standing to the side.
"Give us a hand here, mate," he said. Gary looked dubious and Mary, again, blurted out "No! You can't!"
"Go on," urged Peter. "She doesn't mean it!"
He looked at Mary again.
"You don't, do you?", he asked, quietly.
"Have I got a choice?" she said, looking up at him, a curious expression on her face.
I suddenly realised she needed to feel coerced - powerless. She wanted this to go further, but she wanted to remain blameless - and I suspected that Peter was aware of it, too.
"Well," said Peter. "You can scream."
Mary laughed shakily and let out a very sotto voce scream.
"I don't think anyone heard," she said, in a little girl voice. Then, she took a long shaky breath and dropped her eyes to the sand.
Peter nodded to Gary and he stepped forward hesitantly and took the ends of Mary's halter straps in his long fingers.
He pulled them apart gently and, as he did so, Peter released Mary's wrists.
She let her arms fall by her sides as her halter fell to the sand, exposing her full firm breasts to Peter's admiring gaze.
"Oh, Mary," he breathed, and her eyes flickered up to meet his, momentarily, before dropping down to her breasts, then back to his face.
His hands rose, slowly, and his thumbs rasped along the tips of her hardened nipples.
Her eyes closed, and she swayed a little, then recovered her balance.
"That's nice," she murmured, then gasped as his hands took the full weight of both her breasts and squeezed them gently, holding her erect nipples between his fingers and thumbs.
Behind her, Gary stepped forward and bent his head to kiss the hollow between her neck and shoulder, his hands lightly gripping her waist. I knew this hollow was a sensitive spot and her shudder of excitement conveyed this to the two excited men.
I watched, dry-mouthed and fascinated, very close to climax. I couldn't recall being this turned on since the first few weeks of our own sexual relationship, when Mary's breasts and body were as new to me as they were to the two men now exploring them.
She was now leaning back into Gary's supporting chest and Peter's head was lowered, his tongue teasing one of her nipples. Her moans of pleasure were becoming less and less restrained and, when Peter took her right hand and placed it on the front of his trunks, her hand rested without protest along the length of his erection, then her fingers closed round it and squeezed it, gently.
Seeing this, Gary took her other hand and dragged it onto his trunks, as well, and she cupped it round his penis and testicles. Gary's other hand reached round to caress her free breast, covering it completely and rolling her nipple between his finger and thumb.
By now, Mary's head was leaning back, and her eyes were closed. Her mouth was open as she breathed heavily and her hands were continually moving over the distended erections of her captors, squeezing and stroking them. My prick was so hard it was becoming painful and it was only with a superhuman effort of will that I kept my hand away from it.
The next move was probably inevitable but, even so, it was with a sense of disbelief that I saw Peter's hand move towards the front of Mary's tight beach shorts, his fingers gently stroking the top of her inner thigh. I saw her start at the first tentative contact and instinctively draw away, but Gary perceptibly tightened his grip on her and Peter's fingers were insistent, and, slowly, Mary relaxed and the tips of his probing fingers slid under the tight material.
I could only imagine what he was touching now, but I could almost feel for myself the slight dampness permeating her brief knickers, communicating itself to his questing fingertips.
Then only the back of his hand was visible and, at the same time, Mary let out a gasp and I knew he had negotiated the last flimsy barrier, his fingers sliding through her luxuriant pubic thatch, caressing her wet, warm vulva.
And now she really tried to protest - "No! Peter, please! No! Not there!" Then she gasped again and her protest changed to pleading. "Oh, Peter - noooooooo!" But, despite her words, her legs had now parted and she was pressing herself against his hand which, now, had completely disappeared into her shorts.
Mary's hands were now pushing ineffectually at Peter's powerful shoulders but her pleas and protests were interspersed with little gasps of pleasure. With a guilty sense of shame, I again convinced myself I should not intervene and watched hungrily as, inevitably, Gary shifted his hold on my wife's upper body, lowering it, gently, to the sand.
As she realised what was happening, a fresh protest issued from the squirming Mary, but, having laid her shoulders on the soft sand, Gary placed his hands on top of them and knelt behind her, holding her down, easily.
Meanwhile, Pete's hand emerged from Mary's shorts and both hands grasped the waistband.
"Oh, Peter, no - you mustn't!" she wailed, but her voice was still low, and Peter smiled as he gently drew her last remaining garments down over her writhing hips.
I saw Peter's mouth begin to form an "O" as the top of her jet-black pubic triangle began to emerge and then, suddenly, Mary stopped struggling. She even raised her hips slightly to ease the passage of her shorts and panties under them, and Pete slid them down, easily, over her thighs and calves until they lay, pathetically, in the sand.
There was a moment of silence as both men stared at the luxuriant dark forest between her slightly-parted, and now quiescent, thighs, then Gary muttered "Wow!"
But it was Peter who was first to shuck off his trunks. His cock, short but thick, sprang up as he pulled the tight trunks down and kicked them off. The white line of his naked buttocks was stark against the deep tan on his fit, powerful body. He dropped to his knees between Mary’s parted calves and leant forward, supporting himself on his hands.
I waited for Mary to protest, and struggle, again, but, to my astonishment – and heart-stopping excitement – I saw her right hand stretch forward, as Peter lowered himself slowly towards her. I saw him stop, momentarily, and stare down at his groin, as Mary’s fingers encircled his erection.
If I was going to stop this, I had to do it now, but my choking excitement had rendered me practically incapable of speech or movement. I lay still, in the sand, my heart thundering.
Gary, realizing that Mary no longer needed to be restrained, was concentrating once more on fondling her breasts, as she raised her hips and thighs, slightly, and eased Peter’s thick cock between her spread thighs.
Then she gave a little gasp, as its head nestled between her warm, moist lips – and then almost a scream as Peter drove into her. Her thighs clamped round his waist and her ankles locked behind his back as his buttocks rocked back and forth, pistoning his penis in and out of her.
Her cries of pleasure were so familiar to me, and the unspeakable excitement of listening to them as she writhed, naked in the embrace of another man, that I couldn’t restrain myself any longer. I plunged my hand down my trunks and released my own throbbing erection. I knelt on the sand, masturbating myself, as I watched the scene below me.
Gary, too, had lost control, and had his penis out. He was trying to feed it into Mary’s mouth, and she was doing her best, but all she could manage was to fit her lips round its head and try to keep it in. Gary had his hand wrapped round the shaft, pumping vigorously, and, after a short time, he groaned and turned away, on his knees, and I watched as jets of thick white sperm shot out of the end, onto the sand.
Then Mary began to stiffen, pushing her hips up and locking Peter deep inside her, and I knew her high-pitched gasps were about to start as her orgasm took her over.
Peter obviously sensed it coming, as well, and, with one last thrust of his cock deep inside her, his lips fastened on Mary’s, stifling her ecstatic cries. Then he, too, went rigid and, as I saw the muscles on his back stand out, the volcano inside me erupted, too, and I spurted out on to the sand.
When I recovered, I peered over the lip of the dune.
Gary had already got his trunks back on, but Peter and Mary were lying, side by side, facing each other, his hand gently caressing her bottom. Then he leaned forward and kissed her mouth, softly, and rose to his feet. Finding his trunks, he quickly pulled them up, then recovered Mary’s halter top and shorts and, as she rose, helped her to put them on again.
No-one said anything, and Gary looked very awkward, but, as Peter held out her top to Mary, he quickly clasped, and squeezed, her breasts, then took her in his arms and hugged her. She hugged him back, then quickly put her top back on, and the three of them linked arms and headed out of the dune, off to my right, back to the campfire.
I took another ten minutes to calm down before I returned – for a much-needed drink.
I have often thought of that night. So far, I’ve never mentioned it to Mary – nor has she to me – but, some time soon, I think I’ll be able to persuade her to relive it for me, and I’ll feel that heart-stopping excitement all over again!