Talking It Up With Jill

**Don't let the story length discourage you. The buildup is necessary to do justice to the sexual tension. I hate stories that begin with the supposedly loving and devoted female lead character already promiscuous; it makes it hard to care about the characters and it sucks the sexual tension right out of the story before it even begins. I mean, why read on, then, right? Right. So, read on now, and enjoy.

Around the age of 10 I saw the previews for an erotic movie on cable TV. One of the Emmanuelle movies I believe. In it, the female lead was shown to be sitting in the middle of a room, dressed in a one-piece outfit that consisted of a low cut top and short skirt. The previews were delivered in short, 2-second clips, seemingly faster and faster as the music's tempo increased and narration went on. Emmanuelle sat, looking about. Watching her in silence was about a dozen men, crouched behind a railing and a couch, peering from the doorway, looking in through the window. Watching her. The clips went from panning along the lusting stares of one or two of the men at a time, to Emmanuelle's nervous glance, to a man's hand making its way up her thigh, to the sight of a piston engine working at high speed -even at a young age, that metaphor was not lost on me.

Whenever this preview was shown, I watched. Intently. It affected me: a group of men, lusting after and staring at this nubile woman who sits... waiting to be devoured and sexed up.

The fantasies I had later in life, or what would turn me on to think about, would inevitably consist of situations in which my wife was with someone else. It wasn't about her cheating or her wanting or falling for another person. It was simply about the pent up sexual frustration of a lusting male, and my wife, us, allowing that male to service himself with her, with her dutiful compliance to that end and that end only. Of course, in each fantasy she was brought to ecstasy. But the drive wasn't about her being after something, it was about someone else getting something: relief, from her body. Her eventual pleasure was incidental to that. It was the essence of "male mates with female," and it was such a taboo of a turn on to me when I allowed my imagination to match my woman with a male in need. Man or men, older or younger, fit or overweight, nice or not nice, those details didn't matter. In fact, the more varied the details the better. Sometimes things in everyday life would prompt a fantasy, other times not.

It wasn't that I wanted to be cheated on or replaced. In my heart of hearts I didn't want any of it to happen. No fantasy ever started or ended with my wife falling for anyone or ending up with anyone else. Part of the core, or requirement, for my fantasies was my wife was...well,mywife,mypartner and companion. No fantasy was ever about us pursuing lives with other people. When "something" happened in my fantasy, it would be incidental to the day's events. That's what made it so hot and deliciously perverted a feeling to imagine her being used and her body and mind seduced during. Brought to a level of depravity, and worked over. She would find herself liking what was being done because of two things: the physical feeling of being touched, her body betraying her and seduced...whatever, and she was with me and I was a part of what was happening to her.

I wonder if my wife and I would have made it to the altar if I'd opened up to her earlier. We've been married ten years. And my thoughts have gotten more and more perverse, and keeping them to myself just about impossible. She'll want to know why I want her to wear a certain outfit, or why I'm asking leading questions about something like who she spoke with or what she thinks about someone or something... all in my effort to score details for some fantasy of mine. Her job hasn't made it any easier.

On occasion I've had to drive Jill to work in my Jeep, as her car isn't good on some of the work sites she's been assigned to. She is partner in a law firm that deals with workplace safety and employee benefits for a number of city and county construction companies. And this has her around a lot of men.

The other day, she was dressed in her usual office outfit of dress slacks and white top, her hair in a neat bun. I had just dropped her off when I realized she left her lunch in the car. I ran up to the elevator she was headed for a moment earlier. I arrived too late to hand her carry bag to her but in time to see her entering the elevator followed by four men in hardhats. She turned around to face me just as the door closed. It was Jill, those following, and a handful of other men, all behind her. I might have called out but I didn't. Her little figure was completely surrounded.

After leaving her things with a coworker I got back in my jeep and jerked myself off into a delirium imagining Jill shoved up against the elevator door and thoroughly felt up and brought to orgasm by large menacing hands. I imagined her permitting this and looking back at me as it happened, grunting when she's penetrated.

And, I don't know how else to explain it, but Jill, 38, has a mature, much older demeanor about her: levelheaded and wise, not easily swindled, and a good judge of character. She could hold her own in an intellectual conversation with just about anyone, and leave them impressed with her insight and charm. And, she can also be motherly and comforting, even though we had no kids. But I've seen it with our nieces or nephews, though. Mixed with her good sense of humor and hot little body, it all makes her terribly sexy.

Another recent problem has been our neighbor's teenage son a few doors down. I've noticed lately that our pool has been used while we're at work, and once, after stopping by home for lunch I found he and one of his friends going for a swim. I didn't mind. I did the same thing in my neighborhood growing up. But...the whole situation makes for countless fantasies in which my wife becomes their personal fuck doll. Jill, dressed for work, hair in a bun and wearing glasses, I imagined the two boys and about a half dozen of their friends shoving her back and forth between them, each time yanking off more of her clothing. She would yelp and look to me. I'd be jerking off to the point of drooling as I watched her try to fend them off while they fingered her and pulled at her nipples and bit her neck and shoulders, making her knees buckle and her head droop in reluctant yet undeniable, and heated lust.

This was crazy. None of it had anything to do with reality. Jill and I had a life together. We were comfortable with each other and going places in our life together. And yet still, a reality was the fact that I found incredible pleasure in imagining Jill heaving and panting in nervous anticipation and hesitation as I undressed her in front of two strange men. I thought of what it would sound like to hear her let out a long pent up and otherwise guilty orgasm from watching me stroke myself to the sight of her being fucked hard and fast. I felt I had to talk with her about it, if at least in the hopes she might listen and like it. I finally spoke to her about it, slowly at first.

I was staring at her as she sat and unhooked her earrings in the mirror.

"What," she asked, turning to look at me while pulling the second one out. She had been talking to me about her lunch with some of the roof workers that afternoon and I was only half listening. I was admiring her work clothes, and also thought of the situation by the pool.

"Sorry. Hey, come check something out by the pool." I had come home early again and guessed I'd scared someone off as I'd discovered a pair of shorts on a lounge chair that wasn't mine. So what, but I wanted the thought of the boys to enter Jill's mind. "You haven't noticed, but the kid from down the street and a couple of his pals have been over here during the day.

"That's what those mean?" she flicked her finger at the shorts.

"No, I've seen them here. I suppose these mean they've been skinny dipping."

"Hmmm. Well, I don't guess it mounts to much but..."

"But what?" I asked.

"Well, I don't really mind as long as they clean up. But what I'm concerned about is if something should happen and someone gets hurt," Jill said.

"It's possible, but I'm sure they'll be okay. As long as they clean up, like you said. Oh? And what about the skinny dipping?"
"What about it?" Jill asked.

"What do you think?"

"What do I think?"

"Yeah, " I said.

"Maybe later," she smiled.

Fair enough, but not what I was trying for.

Later, I eyed Jill as she stepped outside to work in the yard for a little while. She had on a bikini, a big floppy hat, large round sunglasses and sneakers. With eyes hidden and that huge hat, it made her look terribly sexy. It was her light gardening outfit when she planned to swim right after. I watched as she sauntered over to the far side of the yard and began pruning the blueberry bushes. I made some iced tea for us after she was done, and we both went for a dip and sat in the late afternoon sun.

"Honey, what would you have done if you'd have come home and found those boys swimming naked?"

Jill tilted her head up and held a hand up to shield the sun so she could look up at me in my chair. "Where'd that come from?"

"The question? I dunno. I guess since it's possible, I was curious."

"Hmmm." She laid her head back. "I would've...I don't know what I would have done. What would you have done?" she asked.

"Not the same," I said.

"Why?"

"Because genius, you're a woman."

"You mean, what would I have done to stop it?" she tried again.

"Nnnn...no."

"Well, what do you mean, then?"

"I guess I mean what would you have thought?"

"Would I have looked is what you mean."

I leaned kneeled down and kissed the back of her neck and traced my hand down to her side and kissed her again. "Yeah," I breathed in her ear. She turned her head into my kiss and whispered.

"Yes, I probably would have."

"Really!" I asked, surprised a bit, and pulled back before I realized I was being obvious.

"You asked the question," she smiled back over her shoulder, and pulled me back down and on top of her, and we rolled over, laughing, and I gave her ribs a pinch to tickle her. But I thought about it. The conversation had been the closest thing to anything that I'd pursued with Jill that even slightly resembled the topic of my ever-developing and frequent perverted fantasies about her. I wondered what she might think had she caught those boys in the pool. Thoughts of them rubbing tan oil onto her wiggling, upturned ass filled my conscience for the rest of the evening.

Lying in bed that night I wanted to talk some more. I was incredibly turned horny and feeling bold. I was dying for some dirty talk and wanted to hear something kinky from her. The way I went about it was by asking if she had ever seen any of the Emmanuelle movies.

"No."

"Oh, I was asking because there was one in particular I'd seen as a young man. Actually, I only saw part of this one. Of an adult film that showed censored previews on cable.

"Ooo-ooo," she smiled.

"Seriously. For me it was agonizing. A young kid getting to see only snippets of soft-core porn?"

"So," Jill glanced over. "Why that? Do you want me to see it or something?"

"Mm, maybe, though I don't imagine it's possible to find. But anyway, that's not the point. There was this one particular scene that showed that I found mesmerizing."

"So, talk to me," she said, sitting up and looking down at me.

I smiled and scooted up next to her. "Well, it's that scene that was sort of what I've been thinking about lately."

"You like it. Still," Jill confirmed.

"Always," I said, trying to maintain focus. "Certain things...got to me."

"Like what?" she asked, taking my hand. "Tell me about the scene."

"Mmmm...In a minute." I struggled. In my head these fantasies of Jill came to me so clearly. But trying to explain them to her, such a delicate subject...I was so uncertain of how to go about it and of the outcome. But I had to try. "Do you have any fantasies you've never told me?" I asked her. "I mean, something... doesn't have to be something you've talked to me about. Something that really,reallyturns you on?" Jill moved as if about to speak, but I stopped her. "Something...you wouldn't want it to ever happen. Not for real."

"Not for real?"

"No." I looked at her. "I mean the kind of thing you get so hot for, that it's only that hot when you fantasize about it really happening, or when you think you might want to."

"Hmmph. Wow, Louis. I want to know about this scene from that movie." I looked at her as she pressed on. "You imagine me in this scene? Is that where this is going?" Jill said, looking from me to her feet and back to me again.

"God," I gulped, thinking of her in that scene. "In a minute."

She smiled a goofy smile and seemed to refocus her gaze. "I think, I think you know mine."

"Being watched?"

"Um hmm. You and I."

"By..."
"Someone?" Jill replied.
"A man?"

"I guess. Some one. Anyone. Just being watched.

"If it's a guy, is he just watching?" I asked.

"What do you imagine he's doing?" she asked.
"Getting off on it," I said. "What do you think of that part? Does that make it any more erotic? Your fantasy?"

"I suppose it would."

"Ever thought of it?" I asked, looking at her.

"Sort of," she said. "It...I suppose it was just a part of the fantasy that I took for granted, if it was a man watching." Now it was my turn to sit and stare, mulling over what Jill had just said, when she took me a bit by surprise. "So," she looked at me dryly. "You've got something you've thought of, it seems. Am I wrong?"

"No, counselor," I shook my head at her in disbelief. "You aren't."

"You've thought of me...in this one movie scene. "Jill gave a cutesy smile at her analyzing skills and snuggled in for a quick kiss.

"Okay," I exhaled.

"Okay," Jill mimicked, and shrugged out a sigh as I had. She was so sexy and smart.

"Right," I smirked. "Okay, so...your fantasy, being watched."

"Umhmm."

"Well, what I've thought of... What I was, uh, have kinda been thinking about... It was sort of like your fantasy, but a little different."

"Oh? Different how, like the movie?"

"Just, ...the part about it that really turns me on. I can't help it."

"Can't help what, Louis? What part about it really turns you on?" Jill's grip on my hand tightened some and now her gaze fixed on me.

"The guy watching," I stammered. "I like that he's watching."

"Me, too," she said. "That's my fantasy."

"No," I said slower. "I like that he's watching, because of you. I mean, obviously he's not looking at me. But I like that he's looking at you."

"I don't..." she was confused.

I moved my hand toward her mouth. "Regardless of me, Jill. I have nothing to do with it, with why I like him watching you.

"Aren't you there, with me?" she asked.

"Not...not when I interpret your fantasy." She looked concerned, and I could see I messed it up already and quickly corrected myself. "I mean, I am...with you. But, he's not concerned with that. He doesn't care."

"DoI?" Jill asked.

"I guess, I guess I never focused on that. I mean, you care, sort of. Your feelings are important, of course. But, in the way I fantasize about it, it's hot almost precisely because it's more about what the guy wants, or needs."

"Needs?"

"Yes." I gulped again because this was getting into the core of what turned me on so much.

"And that is?" she asked.

"To use you. To use your female body to release pent up sexual frustration."
"Jesus, Louis."

"I don't mean rape or anything. You aren't hurt. And that's kinda what takes place in the scene from that movie. The lead female character is sitting in a room, and a group of men are staring at her lustfully, and she's fidgeting, waiting for them to have at her, to give them access to her."

"Oh," Jill seemed to be contemplating the direction of the conversation more now. I was teetering back and forth between being nervous and very turned on. I was confident in my relationship with my Jill, but had nevertheless just described a fantasy involving her with another person. And it made me nervous and turned on. Jill looked away for a moment. Then at me. "Is this your fantasy?" she asked. "The one you wouldn't want to ever really happen?"

"Yes. Sort of." I looked at her and waited a moment before continuing. "Sort of in that it differs a little each time."
"You masturbate to it? Or think of it while we make love?"

"Yes to the first part, and not when we make love. Not when we're lovingly intimate."

"But when we-"

"-fuck." I added. "Sometimes, yes."

"And the dressing me up for work?" Now she had a slight smirk. I was relieved at this. My wife is no idiot. She puts two and two together pretty quick. I love it about her. Because it's very reassuring and comforting to have such a brainy life's companion. So if she was not frowning or looking worried, I wasn't scared or maybe regretting having brought this up forever. But when the smirk disappeared, I worried, because the gravity of what we were discussing in the light of our commitment to each other in marriage and life. But I refused to let the topic get drowned out in something I was without question completely confident in: our love for and commitment to each other.

So I nodded about the dressing her for work. "Like that and like any other time someone or some set of circumstances makes for hot imagining."

"And about your role? About the needs of someone else? Someone else is watching me, and you are watching that?"

"Watching someone else look at you, yes. Watching you...with someone else. Other men."
"Have sex?" Jill leaned back to look at me. 'Hear we go,' I thought. "You watching me have sex with someone else, Louis? Why?" She grabbed my hand to stop me from fidgeting.

"Jill, I don't know why. I just know that, thinking about that, and other things, is incredibly erotic to me."

"What other things?"

"Like situations in which it might occur. Who it might be with. What might be said, sounds and things like that."

"You've really thought of this in detail," she said.

"I have. But mostly, more and more lately, I dunno. Seeing you at your job, maybe."

"My job. I don't get it."

"All those men? C'mon, it's a construction site."

"Right." Jill stared across the room.

"I'm sure they look at you."

"Like in your movie?"

"God," I said, not able to keep from pulling her close to me. She giggled at my reaction. "Yesss. Like that."

"You wouldn't be mad?" she said, looking back at me.

"At them looking at you?"

"Uh-huh."

"Like I said, it's a construction site. I'd be surprised if they didn't. Trust me. It's in their minds. But who wouldn't look at you?"

"What about me?"

"Hmmph, right." I said, grabbing her hip and pulling at her.
"Well, of course you'll say that, or, whatever you were about to say.

You're my husband."

"And you're my hot wife." She went to stop me again, but I continued. "No.

Let me tell you."

"Tell me," she said, resigned to letting me talk.

"Well, this little waist, your toned legs and plump rear end." I caressed her

hips. "You're very curvy but trim. And the clothes you wear." She went to say 'that I dress her in', but I continued. "The clothes you wear accentuate those curves. And you always smell good, and hardly ever wear a bra."

"I don't need to."

"Honey, that's my point. Your breasts are perfect. You don't need a bra. But,

I confess I do imagine one being taken off you. And the size of your breasts is sexy to me, especially because they really make it possible to see your chest heaving when you're excited. Your rib cage expanding when you are in ecstasy and breathing hard." Now Jill was starting to relax, smiling at me as I sang her praises. "Plus..." I stared down at her, still holding her by the hip. "Plus, you're petite. Not tiny, but on the short side, a petite, and, so easily manhandled."