Mystery Lover

I'm worried about my marriage. I love my husband and he loves me. In most ways we get along fine, we care deeply about each other. But our sex life has left both of us frustrated.

Rick is 33, I'm 32. We've been married five years, we've been talking about having a baby. But should we bring a child into a marriage like this? One that, I have to say, might not last. We do have sex—it's just not very good. I suck his cock for a bit, he licks my pussy, he fucks me. He gets off, I never do.

I masturbate quite often. I'm sure Rick does as well. In fact, that's what I'm doing now—lying on the bed, fondling my breast with my left hand, slowly rubbing my pussy with my right. I took today off work to get a lot of house cleaning done. Now, I'm on a break.

It's not that Rick is a poor lover. He tries hard, I'd say he's got the moves. It just doesn't work for me. Maybe he's too nice, too gentle, maybe a I need someone rougher. Or maybe it's just me. I never had a great time with my two previous lovers. My best orgasms (usually my only ones) come when I'm all alone, like now.

I'm fondling myself slowly, don't want to rush. I'm fantasizing about Anthony, Rick's very hot 25-year-old assistant. Rick and I have joked about my attraction to Anthony but Rick doesn't know I think of Anthony when I masturbate. Rick once asked to watch me masturbate.

"That's personal," I said.

"I'm your husband," he said. I didn't let him, I should have but I just couldn't. He never asked again.

Real-life Anthony is very nice and polite, almost naïve. Fantasy Anthony is much stronger. He doesn't abuse me but he does order me around. He likes to spank me and he knows I love it. I always have a good orgasm when Anthony is on my mind. Right now, I'm still moving slowly—I want to make this last.

Ding goes my phone, a text coming in. I better look at it. It's Rick:

"I'm hoping to get inside you later."

I smile. Gotta love that boy, he never gives up. This is a new twist for him—sexy texts are rare for us and we've never sent nude photos. I just couldn't.

But I have to answer him. What should I say? "Me too, can't wait."? I'm a writer, I should be able to come up with something better than that. I think for a minute, then type quickly before I chicken out.

"Come home now. I'm playing with myself."

Do I dare hit "send"? The normal me would not but I've roused myself up pretty good. I tap on "send."

My heart jumps. What is he going to think? Hopefully, he'll love it. A few minutes pass. Why isn't he answering? Don't tell me he's showing this around the office—to Anthony? No, Rick wouldn't do that, would he?

Finally, another ding and here's his answer.

"I can't. I'm interviewing people."

What the fuck? Your wife makes an offer like this and you're worried about some strangers? It's lunch time, you can come home. These people will reschedule, they need a job.

I sit up in bed, my mood broken. What an asshole! The least he could have done was add to his message, something like "Sorry, I wish I could." The jerk couldn't even do that. Ding. Another text. I pick up the phone, more pissed than ever.

"Lie on top of the bed. Put a blindfold on. Don't wear anything else. I'm sending Anthony. Ten minutes. I gave him my key."

Yikes! Anthony is coming??? No, no, don't be ridiculous. Rick would never do that. The blindfold means Rick is coming and he's going to pretend to be Anthony. That's got to be it . . . doesn't it? . . . but he knows I'm attracted to Anthony . . . Rick couldn't do something that crazy . . . or could he send Arnie (I hate Arnie and he's ugly). No, Rick's not a mean person. Or could he just not come at all, send nobody, just to play a trick on me? He's not that big an asshole.

I have to answer him. But first, wait a couple minutes like he made me wait.

Okay, I'm typing.

"I can't wait."

Smiling, I get off the bed and look for a blindfold. I find a t-shirt of Rick's—that'll do. I go back to the bed and tie the blindfold on. I was already naked and so lying down on the bed fulfills the rest of the instructions. I start to pleasure myself—slowly. Oh Anthony.

Some time goes by, must be at least 10 minutes. Finally, I hear the key in the front door. I hear the door close. No more sounds, he must be in the bedroom by now. I startle as someone touches my knee.

"Anthony?"

He grunts. "Arrgh."

Doesn't sound like Rick. Doesn't sound like Anthony either. I'm excited. Let's just go with it.

He rubs my stomach gently, touches my shoulders, kisses my lips. Then he grabs my wrists, ties them together with some kind of cloth. I don't resist. He ties a rope to my wrists and ties that to something, must be the bed frame. Now I'm tied up but I have more freedom to move than if he tied my hands separately and spread-eagled me. Plus, this way he can flip me over if he wants. I bet that's what he's thinking.

He pulls me toward the top of the bed until my head is hanging off. Oh, he's naked. He's rubbing his penis and balls in my face. That hard cock is going to be in my mouth any second. Oh, here it comes. Is this Rick? Seems about right but who knows. Fantasy Anthony is bigger than Rick but real-life Anthony might not be.

Awkward position but I try to suck on him as best I can.

He's not interested in a real blow job right now. He's moved away. A minute later he's back to the bed. He puts some kind of oil on my stomach and starts massaging my stomach, then my arms. Oooh, this feels good. Now he's massaging my chest and my boobs. He's got a nice touch. Could this be Anthony? I don't think so. It's Rick. It has to be.

Now he's sucking on my right nipple, that's nice too. Don't forget the left one. He doesn't. I moan some . . . this is really nice. He passes by my pussy and works on my legs. I moan some more and I tease him: "Anthony, Anthony, that's wonderful. I'm so glad you came."

He grunts and then starts humming. He's on the bed, his penis is knocking against my leg. If I could move my hands I'd grab it. It's very hard. He flips me over and starts massaging my back. I'm loving this (whoever he is).

He spends a lot of time on my butt. Who can blame him? It's my best feature. Now he's separating my cheeks, I bet he's looking at my butthole. That normally embarrasses me, it's my most private spot. But now I don't care—do whatever you want. He does. He circles my hole with his oily finger. He's going to try to put it inside. He does, just a little. I moan but I don't object. It's so intimate. This time it feels right.

I've given up all control. I can't be blamed for whatever happens. I have every right to assume this is Rick. I'm just a woman making love to her husband. If this turns out to be Anthony, I'll be mortified but it's not my fault. It's not!

He's moved on. He's kissing me, then moves lower and sucks again on my nipples, sticks his tongue in my belly button and finally reaches his real target. He moves my lips apart and starts licking and sucking and sticking his tongue in as far as he can.

This generally is not a favorite of mine but today it's working—I've never been so damned hot. Go ahead, stick it in. He doesn't.

Instead, he grabs an ankle, ties a rope around it and yanks my leg back toward my head.

"Rick? Rick! What are you doing?" He doesn't answer, just ties my leg to something and grabs my other ankle.

"Oh, no, Rick, Anthony. What are you going to do?"

He's stays silent. He's tied the other leg and now he has me in a truly obscene position. I feel him down at the end of the bed, probably admiring his work. Suddenly, he slaps my ass.

"Ow! That hurts."

He chuckles. Whack! Whack! Two more blows. It hurts but it's somehow exciting. He moves away, what's he going to do now?

WHACK!

"Oh my God." That wasn't his hand—a paddle or his belt. "Rick, Rick, please." I want "hurts so good" not "hurts so bad." He's back on the bed. Now he's rubbing my butt gently. What's next?

He kisses each cheek and starts licking. Oh, Lord, he's circling toward my hole. It doesn't take long and he's there. That's gross but it feels nice, naughty but nice.

Now he's using his fingers to spread my hole even more open and he's trying to stick in his tongue in. Oh, wow, this is really getting me going. Lord, don't let me fart now. Think about it—some man, I don't care who, is so excited by me (yes, me!) that's he's got his tongue up my asshole. He keeps going. Oh, oh, yes. This goes on for quite awhile.

He's got a finger probing for my clit. Yup, he found it. His tongue and his finger are doing the job.

"Yes, yes, ahhhh" . . .

. . . Oh, sorry I had a brain shutdown there for a minute. No, it wasn't a rock 'em, sock 'em, bucking, earth shattering, send me to the moon orgasm but it definitely was an orgasm and it was nice. He stays quiet as my spasms subside. He rubs my stomach, then comes up toward my face. He kisses me.

Oh wow, he could have used some mouthwash first. No, I don't care.

One leg is untied, then the other. They flop down on the bed. What's his plan now? What about his orgasm?

He flips me over, then pushes my legs under me so I'm on my knees. My face is on the bed and my butt is up in the air. He's rubbing my back and my butt and now's he's kissing me. I feel oil running down my crack—he's going to fuck me in the ass. I like that but I've been embarrassed to tell him. He's getting ready.

Oh, he stuck it in my pussy. That's a surprise. He's gently thrusting, I'm very wet. After a minute he pulls out—what's he doing? Now, he's in my ass, only a little ways. He pauses, I'm trying to adjust to what's happening.

Now, he pushing, inch by inch. He must be fully inserted. Oooh, that's nice, I do like this. He's thrusting and I find myself grunting in unison.

"Unh . . .unh . . . unh . . ." This is good, yes, yes. I'm feeling it. He's got a finger at my clit, he's really trying but I won't come again. I know it. He keeps thrusting, it's time for him to come—Go for it!

He does, he explodes inside me. That was really good for me—sometimes you just want to get pounded, you know? I hope it was good for him. Now what's he going to do?

He pulls out and lies down beside me. He pulls me over so he's spooning me. I'm still moaning softly. He stretches and unties my hands but he leaves the blindfold on. I could remove it but I don't. We're putting off the moment of truth. This has got to be Rick, doesn't it? I'll know soon. We lie together silently.

Rick (I think) unties the blindfold. My eyes are closed but I turn toward him. I open my eyes—it's Rick.

He smiles. "This was terrific," he says. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

Maybe there's still hope for us.