I guess everyone has favorite sexual fantasies they use from time to time to get themselves off on lonely evenings before drifting off to sleep. I know I do. Probably what's different in my case is that my best fantasy is actually a memory. It began in my sophomore year of college. I was nineteen.
My sophomore year in college I had shacked up with my boyfriend, a man I dearly loved. He was a senior, older and wiser, and also while not the first, nor the second, nor even the third man who had ever bedded me, he was my first long term relationship. I was in love, and I was convinced at the time it could not get better than it was.
What was special about Rob was he that he understood my need for discipline. I loved how he would tie me up and ravish me, sometimes whipping me if I had been bad, and taking me anally as a special punishment, which I secretly loved. No other man had ever realized I had these needs, and in fact before I fell in with Rob, I myself had not realized it. I really did need it, though. I loved the slightly sadistic discipline he provided me on a regular basis.
True, I did not like that on occasion he would beat me, but those occasions were rare, and at those times I felt that he was justified because inevitably I would have royally screwed up. I never told anyone about the beatings because I just knew they would want to intervene on some level, and I was not prepared for that. I mention this just to explain that while I thought life with him was perfect, perhaps I was just a little naïve. I knew deep down the discipline was fine, but the beatings were not. I just could not admit it to myself.
My mother called one day. It was a Wednesday in March and the daffodils were poking up out of the ground. I could see the beginnings of tulips, partially hidden in their leaves. One of her best friends from her college days was coming to New York the next weekend, together with her son Carl who was a college senior, and she asked me to show him around New York, and to "show him a good time."
I'm sure my mother had no idea of the sexual implications of the phrase "to show a man a good time." I told her I couldn't do it. I had theater tickets, I had too much school work, I was planning to get a migraine headache, and I was fairly sure I was coming down with the flu, I had really bad PMS, and oh yes, that particular weekend I was going to Boston for the wedding of an old high school friend. Nothing worked. She really wanted me to do it.
"He'll pick you up Friday night. Wear something cheerful and bright. Try not to look like a refugee from a motorcycle gang, okay?" she said.
"Yes, Mom," I replied. If I had to count the number of times I had said 'Yes, Mom' up to that point in my life, I would have needed at least four digits, maybe five. I explained the situation to my boyfriend Rob, and to my surprise he handled it with aplomb, mostly I think because he knew I was dreading it. Blind dates with men my Mom sets up for me are not my idea of fun. They're nobody's idea of fun.
Carl showed up on time. I had picked a time for him to come when I knew Rob would not be home. He was good looking, so at least I would not be embarrassed to be in his presence. One point for Mom. He took me out for Peruvian food at a secret little restaurant he knew about. I had never before had Peruvian food and it was wonderful. Two points for Mom.
The wine was good, too, and even though I was 19 and obviously not yet 21, I looked as if I were 21 in my nice clothes with my prominent boobs, and we polished off a full bottle of a delicious red Chilean wine from the Maipo Valley. That was after two cocktails, too, and I was feeling no pain. Full marks for Mom. This was becoming the best blind date ever.
Carl then took me dancing at a little club he knew about down in the Village, and when a slow song came, he pulled me into him, and my body just melted into his as I wrapped my arms about his neck. He put his hands around my waist, and I ground my body against the area of his sex, which responded nicely to my actions.
Indeed, Carl's groin responded remarkably. Can a man's cock even be that big, I thought at the time? I can be bad at times, and as such I enjoy being a tease. Carl's hands moved south to cup my ass cheeks. I have a tiny ass, and Carl had huge hands, so my cheeks were nicely cupped, and it felt really sexy. It felt even sexier that I was letting him treat me that way in public, as if I were a tramp, or a slut, or something like that.
It was a clear and beautiful evening and after the village we took a cab to Battery Park to look out at the Statue of Liberty, all lit up at night. I'm a sucker for such a romantic gesture, but it was also a windy and cold evening. I was shivering. Carl wrapped me up in his jacket, it being warm from having just been on his body and feeling the warmth from that hunky male body being passed to me was erotic. Carl held me tight to keep me warm. It was a magical moment, and when he went to kiss me I kissed him back and poured affection into my kiss, while once again grinding his hard cock with my tummy.
We went to a bar down there to warm up, but Carl made an innocent mistake and it was a girlie bar. Carl turned bright red. I handled it easily, giggling and laughing, but Carl's shame for having taken me to such a place was palpable.
"It's okay, Carl," I told him. "I know what a girl's boobs look like, you know. I've looked in a mirror. Besides, there's such variety with women's boobs. This way I can check out the competition. Welcome to New York."
Carl smiled. "I'm sure none of these pretty women can compare to you, Joanne," he said, and I think it was at that moment I was seduced. We had a couple more drinks, and it became time for Carl to take me home. At that point, I am sure I could not have walked a straight line, nor touched my nose with my index finger. I was plastered.
I wanted a chance to make out, just a little, with this hunk of a man who had shown me the best evening I had had in a long time, maybe ever. If he took me home, Rob would be there, and that would be that. "Let's go to your hotel instead of my place," I said. "I have a live-in boyfriend." Just like my mom earlier, I was not thinking of the possible implications of such a suggestion. Like stupid mother, like even stupider daughter.
Carl looked at me funny, and I immediately regretted having mentioned the existence of Rob. So, I added, "He beats me, you know."
Now Carl looked at me. In retrospect I think he was flummoxed, with a "Who is this woman? What is it with this woman?" attitude. At the time, however, in my drunken state, I thought he did not believe me.
"He hits me where it won't show. Where the sun does not shine, you know?" I said. He nodded, but he looked skeptical. So right there, in the girlie bar, I lifted my blouse and pulled down my bra, and showed him my black and blue boobs. I quickly covered up once he saw the bruises. I figured since it was a girlie bar, no harm, right?
I had not realized at the time how sexually aggressive such a gesture was. I was only trying to prove my veracity at the time, not to arouse Carl or to give him the wrong idea. I had not thought about what a provocative gesture it was to expose myself publicly in front of Carl. It's not your typical first date activity. This was my big mistake number two.
"My hotel it is," Carl said. He was staying at the Marriott at Times Square, the world's most anonymous hotel. Gun toting terrorists could stay there and nobody would notice. The place is mobbed by conventioneers, all the time, and you can identify them by their badges.
"Let's pretend we're with the convention," I said. Carl's eyes twinkled. He liked the mischievous idea. We saw some unclaimed name badges and grabbed them, telling the person manning the table we were late and would come back later to sign in and all. We entered a party quickly and mingled. I began the show by going up to a good-looking guy, around 40 something, and after having read his name badge in advance, I said while looking straight at his face, "You must be Michael Stevenson, right? I believe we met last year at one of these conferences."
I had arranged for my name tag to be pinned to my left boob, and he looked at it to see my name, giving himself an excuse to study my boobs, and he said, "Marcy, right?"
"I knew you'd remember," I said. I introduced him to Carl, whose name tag said he was Saunders, but I explained he hated that name and used his middle name Carl. I got lucky, and we both liked Michael Stevenson, and he liked us, and if following his eyes as the evening wore on was any indication, he certainly liked my boobs. We helped ourselves to the free desserts and especially the free liquor, and somehow it seemed natural when Michael joined Carl and me as we went up to Carl's room.
I wanted Carl to kiss me so much, just like he had done at Battery Park about two hours earlier, but the presence of Michael seemed to paralyze him. I took control and I kissed him. The kiss was, if anything, even better than the one in Battery Park! I had forgot about Michael, who must have been watching us kiss, and after the third kiss and a lot of groping on Carl's part, Michael pulled me away from Carl.
Before I could say 'what are you doing?' Michael was kissing me. It was my first kiss from a mature man, one probably at least twenty years older than I was, and it was a doozy. I kissed him right back. He was more aggressive than Carl, and when the kiss ended my skirt was unzipped and he was pushing it down.
The idea of sex with two men at once was so foreign to me at the time, I naively did not see it coming. Despite all my sexual perversion with Rob, I was basically an innocent young college girl at the time. I was a one-man-at-a-time-thank-you-very-much kind of girl. Innocent and unsuspecting yes, but I was also adventurous and flexible.
I have to admit, even though I could not admit it even to myself at the time, however, that two men back to back was a major, even a super major, sexy idea. I was however not prepared for the reality of what had hitherto been only a hot occasional sexual fantasy.
"Give me a hand with Marcy, won't you Carl?" Michael said, and the two men undressed me as I stood there in a combination of shock and drunken stupor. In less than a minute I was wearing only my panties, which were the 'mesh lace up cheeky panties' of Victoria's Secret. Rob always insisted I wear sexy underwear.
Michael said, "Someone beats you, Marcy. Is it Carl?"
"No, it's my boyfriend Rob." I knew where this was going, so I said, "If he ever finds any of your cum on me, it'll be bad."
"We'll use rubbers then," Michael said.
"We?" I asked, looking at each of them in turn. I was beginning to get scared. I was not at all sure about this!
"Yes," they both said, in unison. This made me thoroughly wet and thoroughly terrified simultaneously.
"I'm not sure this is a good idea. Even one of you is not a good idea, I have a boyfriend, remember? Both of you is beyond the pale. Even as drunk as I am, I'm not that kind of girl," I said. I ran to the bathroom and closed and locked the door. I was hyperventilating. Looking back, I now realize I was having a panic attack. Once I had calmed down, breathing into cupped hands covering my nose and mouth, I figured I'd use the toilet since it was right there, after all.
As I sat on the toilet tinkling away, as I still call it, I tried to think with my alcohol addled brain. It wasn't easy. I would never see Michael again, of that I was sure, so did it really matter if I fucked him? He did not even know my name and was still calling me Marcy.
Carl in contrast I really liked and would not mind dating him once I dumped my "wife beating" loser of a boyfriend whom I hopelessly loved. Of course, he went to school in Chicago, so the prospects of dating him seemed quite remote. If I had sex with both men just then however, I would never see Carl again either, I was sure.
On the other hand, would I ever see Carl again, anyway? Wasn't I just a good time girl while he was in New York? So, I figured, what's the harm? Men use tarts to have a good time, sure, but they don't follow up and date them.
When I finally emerged from the toilet, smiling broadly, my bouncing boobs leading the way, I found two naked men, both sporting enormous erections. I did not know men's cocks could get that big, and bear in mind I had already been intimate with four men and had given blowjobs to a few more in my wild high school days. I realized my worldly sophistication was not as good as I had previously thought.
Nice, I said to myself. I wonder what they'll feel like inside me? Maybe the alcohol distorts the perception of size? Somehow, I doubted that. I looked forward to finding out, in the interest of scientific inquiry, of course.
Michael took the initiative and placed me on my back on the big, luxurious double bed. He slowly and gently removed my mesh lace up cheeky panties, receiving now no objection from me. I even lifted my hips to help him. He rendered me completely nude in a room with two nude men. I was ready to be ravished. Let the games begin, I thought to myself.
Michael surprised me by going down on me. Rob never does that. Oh my goodness he was good, too. Nobody had to draw Michael a road map to my clitoris, which is small and hidden. No, he found it right away. More precisely, his magical tongue found it right away.
Michael supplemented his oral ministrations with his fingers, sticking one gently inside my soaking wet love canal, then after a bit adding a second, then after another little bit adding a third. I'm pretty sure a fourth finger would not have fit and thank goodness he did not try.
His other hand, however, slipped underneath me as he ate me and fingered me, and soon I had a finger from his other hand probing my asshole. Seconds later I lost it and being completely out of control I screamed out my orgasm at a full soprano scream. In reality, I am a coloratura soprano, and had there been a dog in the room he would have gone nuts with my scream.
After my totally unsubtle climax, which I imagine all the neighboring hotel rooms heard, Michael stopped fingering me. He rose up, and I was fully expecting him to fuck me silly at that point, but he stepped away from me. Carl came up to me. He got on top of me and as he did I noticed he was wearing a rubber. A microsecond later he was inside me. Three more microseconds and he was pumping away. Four more microseconds elapsed and I was moaning in my coloratura style. It was wonderful. The jury was in. Large cocks are nice. Live and learn, I thought at the time.
Carl rolled us over, and I was on top, and as I fucked him to the best of my ability, I felt Michael's finger again probing my ass. I had decided back when I was sitting on the toilet doing my business to let the two men do with me whatever they wanted, so I was accepting. I was in submissive mode. It was a mode I loved and one which Rob knew how to exploit to the max. It was nice to let it flow with these two men as well.
It did not take long for Carl to unload and we kissed as he filled the rubber. Even with a rubber I could feel it when he came, and I love feeling a man cum inside me. I lay on top of him, kissing him lovingly as his cock slowly shrank. He had to pull out before the rubber came off his cock and spilled his seed inside me. To do so he had to pry my arms off him, I was holding him so tightly. He got off me.
As soon as Carl left my eager, welcoming body, Michael put a pillow under my tummy, and I felt something wet and cold at my asshole. I had done anal before but only with Rob, whose cock was average size, so this was going to have a new size dimension. I had decided however to go with the flow. What the men wanted, the men would get.
Michael went slow at first, thank goodness. He was gentle and loving, and he seemed to care about me. It was not just all about him getting his rocks off in this nineteen-year-old reckless slut, which was what he must have thought I was at that point. Well the slut let him ass fuck her, and after a little bit, when my ass dilated sufficiently, it even began to feel nice.
Michael fingered me as he fucked my ass, and damn if the combination did not send me over the top a second time, with another coloratura soprano scream. Wow. I collapsed onto the bed on my tummy after my climax, but Michael still had not cum. He rolled me over, lay down beside me, took off his rubber, and presented his cock to my mouth.
Drunk as I was, I still knew what he wanted, and by George I gave it to him. I'm not a world class blowjob artist, I'm just an ordinary coed, with a submissive streak, who was being a major slut for one night, but I gave him the best blowjob I could give a man with my limited talents. As I blew him, he played with my boobs. Seeing the bruises of course, he was gentle with them and it felt good, even very good.
After I swallowed Michael's load, we all sat around in the hotel room making small talk, all three of us naked. Twenty minutes later, Michael wanted a fuck and Carl wanted a blowjob. I wanted to get back to Rob, since it was very late and I knew he would be angry with me. I looked at my phone and there were four unread messages from Rob, and one from my Mom asking 'How was the date? Did you show Carl a good time?'
Rob's messages were getting successively darker and I told the men they would have to wait. I knew they wanted to spit roast me, and I said, "Next time?" I knew I would never see Michael again, but Carl? In theory Carl could find me easily again via the connection of our mothers, even if he lived and went to school in Chicago. I would not mind at all seeing him again! Such thoughts made me wonder about my love (or lack of it?) for Rob. It's hard to love a man who beats you, and I just knew something bad was in store for me when I got home.
Carl took me home. He could tell how nervous I was about facing Rob. Hell, he could tell I was downright scared. He told me his plan. "That will fool nobody, especially not Rob. You don't know him," I said.
"Let me try," Carl said.
"Well, it can't hurt," I said. "Carl, I know I've behaved like a tramp tonight, not only having sex with you on our first date, but with that stranger Michael, too. I'm not really like that. I've never had group sex before, never even thought of doing it. Could a man like you ever care for a slutty girl like me?"
"Joanne, you are the most amazing girl I've ever known, and certainly the sexiest girl I've ever bedded. Not only could a guy like me like a girl like you, but frankly woman, I'm already infatuated with you," he said. "I want to help to save you from Rob's revenge. Men don't like it when their women sleep around, you know."
Pausing a bit as if debating whether to say his next thought. "It's always been a fantasy of mine to share a woman with another man and watch them do it, you know? You gave me that thrill tonight. I'll never forget it," Carl said.
"That's what I'm afraid of, that you'll never forget it. Do you think there's a chance I'll ever see you again?" I asked, throwing away all possibilities of being coy!
Carl just looked at me and answered by kissing me while stroking my thigh, quite high up, too.
Returning to the big problem at hand, I said, "This is my first time, and maybe Rob won't know?"
"Maybe. If my plan works," Carl said.
"There's an issue, Carl. When I come home late at night, I have to enter the apartment naked. It's a house rule. I don't dare disobey," I said.
"What? That's crazy!" Carl said. I assured him it was real, a hard and fast rule.
"Even with me here? Rob would obviously see that you were getting naked in front of me. Would he want that?" Carl asked. He was incredulous.
"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.
