tagLoving WivesJust My Imagination

Just My Imagination


Author's note: this is not my usual "stroke story" but something a little bit different. I hope you enjoy!

My husband Scott and I were lying in bed cuddling after enjoying a long afternoon of kinky sex.

“Do you want me to take this off?” he asked, running his fingers over the thick leather dog collar that encircled my neck. It was impressed with metallic diamond-shaped studs all the way around and a metal ring at the back of my neck had been hooked to a very short leash which Scott had held onto as he fucked my ass commanding me to growl and beg for more.

“No leave it there. I like the way it feels,” I said, stroking the sun-bleached hair on his tanned arms.

It wasn’t the first time that we had played wild kinky sex-games like this. In fact it probably wasn’t even the hundredth.

“That was really hot,” I told him. “But it seems like we never try anything new anymore.”

“Is there anything left to try?” he asked with a chuckle.

“Well, yeah. I’m sure there’s lots of things. We couldn’t have done everything!”

“Well, I know, but I mean anything else that we’d want to try. It seems like we’ve done everything two people can do that doesn’t gross one or both of us out.”

“Two people, huh? You may have something there, boy.”

“Denise, what are you thinking?” I could see the excitement in his eyes, the hope that I would suggest what every man dreams about.

“Well…. You know that guy Barry that you work with?”

I could see him bristle. I almost wished I hadn’t said anything, yet it was out there now, so I decided to follow through.

“Come on don’t be that way. If I had suggested another girl, you’d have been all for it.”

He sat up, pulling the sheets around his broad smooth chest. “That’s different,” he said shortly.

“How?” I asked, fighting not to become defensive.

“Well for one thing, I don’t swing that way so it’s just icky. And for another, I’m not going to let- forget about watch- another man fuck my wife. Christ Denise. Is that what you’re trying to tell me? I’m not man enough for you anymore? You need some other man’s cock instead?”

“No baby, of course that’s not what I’m saying.” I tried to touch a lock of hair from his forehead, but he jerked away. “I love your cock. I love you. If we had a threesome with another woman, would that mean that I wasn’t enough for you?”

He thought about the implications of his answer and his face softened just a touch. “No, of course not.”

“Well, I’m not saying that either. I just want to spice up our love life a little, that’s all.”

“It’s still different. I don’t think I could control my jealousy. And it would just be too- too gay. It wouldn’t feel right at all That‘s just way too much testosterone in one bed.”

“Well, I’d feel the same way with another woman, but I’d be willing to put those feelings aside if I thought- if I knew, that you where willing to do the same for me.”

“Are you saying that if I- that you’d-”

I twirled a lock of my auburn hair and batted my eyes. “It would certainly help your case,” I whispered softly. I could see him warming to the idea some so I went in for the kill. “You wouldn’t have to do anything with him. And you could use someone else if you preferred. In fact, I’ve got this scenario in mind that won’t compromise your masculinity one bit.”

“Ok, let’s hear it,” he said with a sigh. After I told him my fantasy about him and a buddy pretending to gang up on me and take me against my will, I reached down between his legs to feel that my story had the effect that I had hoped. I rolled over on top of him, pretended to nip at his nose and growled, “Fuck me again, cowboy. I wanna ride the range!”

Scott works in construction, both he and Barry are tanned and toned and taken together have almost more testosterone than one woman can handle. I knew this well before I suggested our little tryst because I often visited my husband at work, bringing him lunch and sometimes ‘borrowing’ him for ‘important errands.” Plenty of times, I’d come in quietly and overhear the guys exchanging randy jokes or comments before they had a chance to notice me. Not that I was spying on my hubby, its just that I find him so sexy when he’s in his natural environment, surrounded by male colleagues and buddies with no need to act refined and gentlemanly. Hell, the man’s sexy no matter what he’s doing, and just the thought of him most days is enough to get my panties wet.

Scott and Barry where like two sides to the same sexy coin. Think Bo and Luke Duke on steroids and hormone injections. Scott has thick dark hair and eyes and sexy dark eyebrows. He’s tall and muscular in a slender not bulky way. He impressed me early on with his ability to lift me off the ground with one arm, and since then has impressed me numerous times by actually holding me up against the bathroom wall while we screwed. Barry’s not quite as tall as Scott and has wider shoulders and a broader chest. His arms are thick and muscular as are his legs. Nothing about his body is overdone, though, he’s built to the point of perfection and his California-blond good looks and deep sexy blue eyes complete the package.

I also knew that he had a thing for me. I’d caught him staring at me so many times that I often wondered if Scott was only pretending not to notice. It wasn’t until later that I found out that Scott new he was checking me out on account of the nude pictures of me Scott had flashed at work one day. He had asked him to stop gawking, but Barry had just laughed and hinted that he wouldn’t want Barry cluing me in about the photos so Scott just tried to ignore it. Scott and Barry weren’t exactly friends, but Scott didn’t let Barry’s interest in me get in the way of their work relationship. He made a point to act as if it wasn’t a big deal anymore because he knew that the more he reacted, the more obnoxious his co-worker would have become.

Still it was more than obvious each time I visited that Barry was checking out my ass every chance he got, that his eyes lingered on the low v-neck of the blouses I favored, that he was just itching to reach out and pinch one of those luscious plump packages. When I would run my hands through my waist length reddish-brown hair, he would stop mid-sentence, forgetting what he had been saying. A friendly touch on his shoulder made a visible change in the fit of his jeans, and the numerous other ways which I enjoyed toying with his attraction for me always rewarded me with equally flattering reactions.

My husband at first thought that Barry would be the wrong person to involve in my little fantasy, but I quickly convinced him that he was the perfect one. We already knew that he was interested and that he would likely do just about anything for a shot with me, so there was little risk of an embarrassing situation that involves a co-worker looking at you as if you’re the sickest bastard on the planet. We both felt too, that he could be trusted to be fairly discreet. Barry was a pig, but not really one to put his business out there. Now all there was for me to do was to wait for my husband to talk to him and handle the details.

The next day when Scott went to work, I couldn’t get any house work done. I felt wild with excitement as I imagined Barry’s face when my husband approached him with the proposition of fucking his wife. I figured Barry would think Scott was yanking his chain but once he convinced him that the opportunity was for real, he would be all for it. Imagining Barry’s feelings of anticipation at the event, I found myself touching myself, and the next thing I knew, warm soapy dishwater was finding its way into all my secret places and I was on the linoleum in a puddle not entirely originating from the kitchen faucet.

While attempting to make the bed, my mind drifted to the thought of the two men pushing me back on the mattress, one of them holding me firmly while the other pounded his thick hard meat into me. I ended up in a tangle of sheets and blankets which were no longer clean, but covered in perspiration and other bodily fluids.

In the shower after that event, my mind formed an image of Scott holding me up against the bathroom wall, driving into me as he recalled our threesome, saying, “You really liked being tied up and fucked by two hard cocks didn’t you, my hot little slut?” I fingered myself furiously and came in the shower three times.

I was so fucking horny, I just couldn’t wait for the news, I put on my shortest skirt, a loose low-cut silk blouse and a pair of heals and hopped into the car, speeding off for Scott’s current work site. The whole crew looked me up and down with whistles and cat-calls as I found my way to my husband. He was hammering some nails into a floor board or something and Barry was shooting me lascivious looks from far across what would soon be a room. Scott wiped a grimy hand across his sweaty forehead and noticed me for the first time.

“Denise! What are you doing here?”

“I’m not wearing any panties,” I told him, and he was in a perfect position to check for himself. “And I’m wishing I were that nail you’re hammering right now.” He put the hammer down and stood up to wrap his arms around me and kiss me long and deep. More whistles and catcalls could be heard from his co-workers. “Have you asked him yet?” I whispered.

“He’ll do it,” Scott whispered back. “He’s got a few requests- I don’t think they’ll be anything you’d mind.”

“I want you right now, can you get outta here?”

“Sure,” he told me, then turned to his crew (did I ever mention that my incredible husband was the boss?) and said, “I’m taking off for an early lunch. You guys keep up the good work.”

The crew know what we where up too, that’s what made it so funny that they quite with the catcalls and went quietly back to work. They all pretended not to notice as Scott and I went together into the one finished bathroom on the site and proceeded to fuck each other silently on the toilet seat.

“Let’s go get something to eat,” Scott said. “We can take your car.” We readjusted our clothes and Scott followed me to my car, where I drove us to a little café nearby. I love it when Scott has me drive, it’s his way of letting me know that I’m in charge for the moment.

We picked a dark corner in the back of the restaurant and ordered soup and sandwiches. “So let’s have the details,” I told him, as his hand reached back up my skirt to finger my insatiably damp pussy. Thank goodness for checkered table-clothes!

While we waited for our order to arrive, my handsome hubby fingered my excited clit and told me about their discussion. I had been right about Scott having to convince Barry that he was serious, but that once he had; Barry was willing to be Scott’s new best friend. He’d even had some suggestions to make the fantasy even hotter. “He wants to buy your outfit,” Scott told me.

“Ok, did he say what it was going to be?”

“No, he wants it to be a surprise. Is that ok so far?”

“Sure, give him my sizes!”

“Already did,” Scott smiled. “I didn’t think you’d mind.”

I grinned wildly. “I don’t. What else?”

“Well, he wants it to be outside, at night. You still onboard?”

That wasn’t how I had imagined it, but it was a rape fantasy after all, I couldn’t have everything my way. Well, I could, I suppose, but where would the excitement be in that? In the end, I decided it would be more fun to give up control and see what happened. “Sure, I can handle that. Just make sure he knows that I don‘t want to really get hurt. If things get out of hand, I want someway to be able to stop it.”

“I thought of that too. We agreed on a safe word- police- that should be easy enough to remember, right? Just don’t say it if you don’t want to stop.”

“OK, that will work. We can trust him right? He’s not going to try to pull anything?”

“I asked him that and he swears. I reminded him who he works for and threatened him bodily harm if he hurt you in any way. I think he knows I was serious.”

“God, you turn me on when you talk like this.”

“Meet me in the men’s room,” he said, excusing himself from the table.

The next day after work, Scott brought me the clothes that Barry had bought for me to wear. I gasped when I opened the plain white box to find a naughty schoolgirl outfit complete with white cotton panties and high heeled Mary-Janes. “I guess he’s got the same Britney Spears fantasy as you!” I told my husband.

“We’ve discussed it,” he sheepishly admitted. “Wanna try it on for me?”

“No, I want it to be a surprise. Do we have a time and date yet?”

“Saturday night. He wants you to go to the late show alone and stay to watch all the credits.” I smiled at that. I love watching the credits to the end but unfortunately I don’t know anyone- including my husband who shares in my appreciation for the hard work of a good best-boy. “Then leave using the door that empties at the back of the building. The theater should be abandoned by then.” A shiver of anticipation went up my spine.

“You know, baby, you can imagine what I’d look like with that short plaid skirt pushed up around my waist.

My husband growled and pounced on me. Three hours later, we where flipping the cushions over on the couch. Five minutes later, I was caressing his chest, “Want to go again?”

The next day, my husband was barely out the door when I was reaching for my new clothes, and shimmying into the barely there outfit. Bending one inch in any direction revealed my white cotton panties beneath the pleated red plaid mini. A white lacy half-cup push up bra gave me extra cleavage but left my nipples exposed. The white shirt provided just barely provided legal coverage, taking into consideration that all of the buttons had been pulled off. I knotted the bottom and sucked in my tummy. Not bad. I admired my profile in the full length mirror behind the door. White thigh highs and platform Marry-Janes almost completed the look. I giggled when I notice two fuzzy pink pompon ponytail holders in the bottom of the box. I gave myself two high pigtails and swished my head back and forth. The end result was so exaggeratingly sexy, it was almost cartoonish. I hoped that I would be allowed to wear a long coat into the cinema; otherwise they might not even sell me a ticket!

I peered at my reflection and ran my hands over my body. My five foot stature now raised to five-eight with the addition of combination platform high-heeled black patent leather shoes. My breasts pushed up and out straining against the thin fabric of the little white top. My hazel eyes searched over my body, appreciating my own smooth shapely legs fully revealed thanks to my barely there skirt. I ran my hands over my overflowing bosom and down my firm tummy, curving over my cotton covered sex and caressing my creamy silken-clad legs.

A song suddenly popped into my head and I began to sing, “Oops, there goes my shirt up over my head- oh my!” as I untied the tiny white cloth and flung it over my head. I continued to hum the tune as I removed the panties and ran my hands over the shaved area between my legs. Luxuriantly I ran my fingers over the area, teasing myself thoroughly. I wiggled my hips as I swung around and shook my tush at the mirror. I ran my hands over my ass, lifting my skirt and turning my head to watch the action.

I gyrate to the rhythm of the music in my head, exploring my body sensuously, creating my own personal striptease. I flipped my hair, and licked my fingers, giving my hips a sassy swing. I leaned forward so my skirt would creep up exposing the fullness of my cheeks and playfully spanking myself. I shimmy and shake my hind end, slapping myself harder until I actually cry out. I imagine strong hands pushing me down on the floor, invading my space, devouring my body, violating me. In my head I hear deep husky male voices. “She likes to shake her ass, she’s a little tease. Let’s teach her a lesson boys.”

I swivel back to face the mirror and drop to my knees. I hear imaginary zippers sliding down and close my eyes so that I can feel the warmth of a hard penis against my cheek. My hair is pulled back by invisible hands and I feel imaginary breath on my neck as a stranger sounding mysteriously like my husband whispers, “Suck it, you little cock tease.”

My fingers search for and find the folds of my velvety cunt lips, moist from my illicit imaginings. I work in and out digging and plucking at my sodden sex, rolling, strumming and pinching. I opened my eyes and hiked the front of my skirt. Remaining on my knees, I spread my legs opened as far as I could so that I could witness the nasty action taking place in my looking-glass. I watched my finger flicking my clit, and exploring within. I pushed two fingers up inside of myself.

“Give her a good dick-slapping,” I hear the illusory stranger say from behind me. I close my eyes again, imaging the warm hard cock being slapped over my cheeks, as my fingers move furiously. I envision the sticky wetness of pre-come leaving a damp trail across my lips and skin. “Oh she’s a good little cock-sucker, you’ll see,” says the coarse voice behind my ear. I make-believe that he is pulling my hair again, forcing my mouth open. I put three fingers from my free hand in my mouth to simulate the dick that I am supposedly being forced to suck.

My fingers fly furiously over my clit as I slobber all over my hand, slurping and sloshing around the pretend dick in my mouth. As I feel myself getting close, I look in the mirror to enjoy the view of my throbbing pussy being worked into fervor. My imaginary stranger tells my other spectral assailant to shoot his load on my face. “Give that dirty little whore a good cum-bath,” he groans.

I groan along with him, as my body tenses. I lift up, arching my back and legs, nearly lifting off the ground as I feel my orgasm build and peak. My climax came to a crest and culminated with a hard spike. My blood pressure must have shot into the stratosphere as I could only see silvery gray sparkles and my body fell in a heap onto the floor.

After a few moments when I was able to move again, I stood and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked whorish with the pretense of innocent. I looked like a stripper, not a regular person going to the movies. I couldn’t go out like this and pretend I didn’t notice what I was wearing. I started to think about really being alone in the ally behind the cinema. The hair on the back of my neck stood up. For the first time I began to have doubts about this plan. Fear could be a turn-on, but not this cold fear that gripped me now. Uncertainty overtook me. I didn’t think I could go through with it.

I undressed and put the clothes back in the box. I took down my hair and brushed it out. I looked at my naked body in the mirror, trying to face my true self, and know my true desire. What did I really want? And then I knew but could I bring myself to demand it? I dressed in jeans and a t-shirt. I didn’t feel sexy, I felt confused, hesitant and even fuzzy. I needed to clear my head.

I decided to go for a walk. I put on my tennis shoes and started in the direction of Scott’s worksite. It was several miles up the road and I figured that by the time I reached it I would also have reached my decision, and gathered the courage to voice my true will.

The air was warm and humid, it made thinking difficult. I quickly built up a sweat and brushed it away with my forearm. More beads of perspiration almost instantly built up in the place of those I had cleared. I began to wish that I had thought to bring a water bottle. My mouth felt parched, and my brain seemed just as barren and dry. What would I do, what did I want, why couldn’t the day be crisp and cool like I wanted to be?

I arrived at the site practically swimming in sweat, my mind feeling drowned. Yet the moment I saw my husband I knew the answer. It just happened that he was standing and talking to Barry at that moment. I walked right up to them and spoke before I could loose my nerve. “I can’t do it.”

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