Memories as Fantasies

"It's a rule. I dare not disobey, your presence notwithstanding," I replied, a bit robotically.

"How do you do it? Logistically, I mean," Carl asked.

"I strip down on the landing. Usually nobody else is around. If a neighbor is there for some reason, I say hello and perhaps make some small talk and wait until he or she leaves, and then strip down," I said. "I suspect the guy across the hall spies on me doing it through his door's peep hole."

"How does that make you feel?" Carl asked.

"It gets me aroused," I said. I blushed when I said it. "I guess I like putting on little, secret shows from time to time." Carl smiled just a bit too broadly when I said this. Carl seemed to be just as strange as I was and perhaps even stranger. I began to wonder what our two moms had been like when they were in college?

"Well then, I guess I'll get to see you naked again," Carl said, and he leaned into me in the taxi and kissed me. I refused to let the kiss end until we reached our destination and Carl had to break the kiss in order to pay the driver.

We went upstairs to the apartment, and I stripped quickly on the landing. Carl and I entered the apartment. Rob was waiting, his eyes dark and smoldering. Standing there naked, I introduced the two men to each other. My voice quivered with fear.

As I had been trained to do, I went to Rob and straddled his lap, kissing him all over, as Carl stood there awkwardly. Rob said, "Joanne's mother told her to show you a good time. Did she?"

"Yes, we had fun. She's a great girl. Thanks for lending her to me," Carl replied, staring at my naked backside as I continued to shower Rob with kisses.

"Blow me," Rob said.

"In front of Carl?" I asked. "Really?" I was terrified to be questioning an order from Rob.

"Strip, Carl. You're going to be fucking her while she blows me," Rob said. "It's her punishment for coming home so late."

Carl made no move to strip. Instead, he said, "It's my fault we're late, I'm afraid. Just by chance we ran into Michael Stevenson and the two of us got to talking. Joanne asked repeatedly to be taken home, but I had not seen Michael for so long, I'm afraid I ignored her requests for a bit too long."

"That explains it," Rob said, "but Joanne is 19 and she is an adult and she could have left you and taken a taxi herself. No, she has to be punished. It will freak her out to have you fuck her, and that's what I want. Now do it, or there will be hell to pay."

"You can't threaten me," Carl said.

"Then leave now. Either fuck her or leave now. Joanne will receive the punishment in store for her if you leave, though, that's a certainty," Rob pronounced, his voice brooking no dissent.

"I'm sorry, Joanne," Carl said, and I was terrified he was going to leave me to the mercy of my brutal boyfriend. Nevertheless, the fear made me as wet as the Hudson River. Perhaps I should say he would leave me to my merciless brutal boyfriend. Instead, however, I heard his clothes being removed. I continued to blow Rob.

"May I fuck you?" Carl said. I knew he was asking only for show. I could never have not let him have me, and Carl knew that. I had Rob's cock in my mouth so I could not answer properly. Instead I wiggled my ass seductively, thereby answering as best as I could with body language.

Rob lifted my body onto my hands and knees, saying "Suck, you bitch. We're making you a slut now. It's about time you learned how to please two men at once, you little tramp." I used to love it when Rob spoke to me that way. Back then it was a game to me. Now however he seemed to want to make our game a reality. Rob's days with me were numbered, I thought to myself.

I continued to suck lovingly on Rob's cock when I felt Carl's magnificent cock poke at my entrance, and I let out a little moan as his cock entered my happy and willing pussy. Somehow it seemed that was the night I was destined to get a spit roast, one way or another, and by George I was most certainly getting one right then!

While my love for Rob was waning, my love for Carl was growing. As was custom, via Rob's standing orders, I swallowed Rob's cum, and then we rested, and the two men talked. They discussed sports, always a safe topic among men who do not know each other. I sipped a Coke to change the taste in my mouth.

I posed naked for pictures that each of them took of me, some in rather sexy poses, and I prayed my asshole did not appear enlarged due to Michael Stevenson's ass fuck earlier! If it did, Rob did not notice. Rob had me do a handstand, with my legs spread far apart, exposing my cum filled pussy, or cunt as Rob referred to it, to both of them. The men held my ankles so that I could maintain the position, and Rob complemented Carl on how bright white his cum was. It was weird.

I got spit roasted a second time that night, with the roles reversed. I sucked off Carl while Rob fucked me brutally, and I do mean brutally. I think he was showing off for Carl. Rob then tied me spread eagle on the bed and when both men got it up yet another time, they took turns fucking me. By then my pussy was good and sore.

Carl stayed until morning, and Rob eventually fell asleep. Carl helped me pack my things, and I left with him. We took an airplane together to Chicago. I quit my school, and I enrolled in a new school in Chicago. I sent Rob a 'Dear John' letter and wished him well. I told him I could not handle being beaten anymore, or the way he treated me.

The truth is, however, I had mixed feelings. I did love the way Rob ordered me around, and I loved the way he used sex with me as a weapon. Now that he had begun to involve other men, however, I knew once Carl left I would be forced to fuck all of Rob's friends, one after the other, and maybe even be gangbanged. I knew those were his fantasies. I did not want that. It was time to move on, and lo and behold, there was Carl, my savior.

That is my most powerful sexual fantasy, and its power derives from the fact that it actually happened. It was long ago, but it still turns me on during lonely nights. I had sex with three different men in one night. I am still amazed at myself when I think about that. Just the slightest memory of that night gets me wet.

Back in Chicago, Carl and I had great sex, but we had little else in common. As it turned out, we were not good for each other despite the great sex, and when I got my degree I was offered a good job down in Indianapolis, and now I live there. I met a straight-laced Hoosier named Brad, whose idea of wild sex is having me on top, and who goes to church every Sunday, and flies an American flag on all holidays.

You can't have everything. The sex with Brad was boring, boring, boring, but everything else about him was wonderful, and he loved me the way every girl dreams of being loved, even us submissives.

We have two kids and a dog. I'm living the American dream, as long as you are Norman Rockwell who is dreaming. For me personally, I'm living the American nightmare. Brad lets me work, a great concession on his part but then we need the money, and I adore our children.

My body bounced back to being my usual hard body, sexy as hell, after each birth. A lot of my Hoosier woman friends were totally jealous. They had stretch marks and put on weight. The only effect the two births had on my body was that my boobs grew by at least one cup size, more like one and a half. From Brad's point of view, that was a good thing. It was a very good thing.

Brad was a good man, and a good father, and he showered me with love on a daily basis. He was even a good fuck, if your taste runs to the missionary position every single time. He had no idea of my history with Rob, Brad, or even Michael Stevenson. He had no idea of my deeply suppressed sexual dark needs. He knew he was not my first lover, but that's all he knew, and he was okay with that. I knew I could never let him discover the dark side of me.

I never cheat on Brad, either, except for the rare times my company sends me to Chicago on business. In Chicago I stay at the Sofitel downtown, and I rendezvous with Carl at the luxurious hotel bar. It's easy for Carl, since he lives close to the hotel. He lives in Lincoln Park. We always begin with pictures of our children, and then we discuss the health of our two mothers. Carl always asks the same question, "Does your mother still want you to show me a good time?"

I tell him I'm sure that she does. "She sent you a present," I tell him, "It's up in my room. Want to come upstairs for it?" He always agrees. I usually think of a new way to give him his present. The most recent time I went to the bathroom, stripped naked, and wrapped a red ribbon about my neck, making a nice bow. I entered the room, saying, "Voila! Your present awaits."

Another time I hid a temporary tattoo on my body, and he had to guess where. A right guess got a reward. A wrong guess got a punishment. I won either way.

Carl always says the same thing. "Your body is so beautiful without the bruises. I'm so very glad our mothers are friends."

I always reply, "I'm supposed to show you a good time." This most recent time I whipped his cock out of his pants and began with one of my signature blowjobs, which are now vastly improved since my college days. Brad's one concession to kink is that he truly loves a good blowjob, so I got lots of practice down home in Indiana.

Carl stayed the night, as he always does. I let him tie me up and ravish me, and then he had me crawl around like a dog, barking. None of this is natural for Carl, but he does it for me. He knows I need it.

He reads up about B&D to know what to do. He's a good man. The next morning he goes home to his wife. She knows about me. I'm a flame from his past, and she allows her husband the one indulgence of spending the occasional night with me. I love his wife, even if I have yet to meet her.

Afterwards I return, satiated and happy, to Planet Hoosier, and to my Norman Rockwell surreal life. It's easy to do because my husband Brad also is truly a good man, even if he is so completely lacking in alienation. Even more important, to me at least, are our children. The two of them are my hope for the future of the world.

There is one exception on Planet Hoosier. For some reason, women are allowed to wear sexy lingerie under their clothes. I think Victoria's Secret at the Circle Centre Mall in downtown Indianapolis sells the highest volume of sexy lingerie of all their stores. I don't have data, it's just my own theory, but it seems reasonable.

Sexy lingerie is allowed, I guess, because after all, it's only the husbands of Hoosier women who see them wearing it. Mine is of course at the very limits. Brad's favorite is a cut out bra, that lets my nipples poke at my blouse, giving the impression that I'm braless, even though I am not. I invariably wear that to Church when I go with him. It's fun to see him in church all hard and uncomfortable.

I think I'm going to try to blow my husband Brad's mind and fuck him with me on top. A good time to try is when we get home from Church. That's when he'll see my crotch-less panties. Poor Brad thinks it's pious to fuck on the Lord's day and I figure I can use that. I'll arrange something so that the children will not be at home and make him fuck me with my lingerie still on.

If that works, in a few months I'll try to get him to fuck me doggy style? Baby steps. I have to go slow. I have the rest of my life, after all. We'll get there. We've been married five years already. I think it's time to start. In a few years, on a nice day, maybe I can get him to fuck me in the back yard? He can keep his clothes on, but I'll be naked. Hey, a girl can fantasize, right?

I'll explain that I read in Cosmo how a variety of sexual positions is good for a marriage. He should buy that. My goal, of course, is to give our kids to his parents for a Saturday night, and to seduce him so thoroughly that one Sunday morning he even misses church in order to continue to have sex with me. That would be a major triumph. I'll score some Viagra and quietly slip it into his scrambled eggs. That man really loves scrambled eggs. It's unnatural to love a breakfast food that much.

Maybe it will help to put a temporary tattoo of a cross between my boobs? He can pray to the altar of the Goddess of Mammary. I call her Santa Boobs. It sounds better in Spanish, as if it could be the name of a town in Southern California. Santa Tetas; it's north of Santa Barbara, nestled in the foothills of the Tetas Grandes mountains, along the coast road, right? I'll have to take my family there some day.