It started innocently enough. They were having sex; good, hot sex, as they had done with decent frequency since before marrying five years ago. At twenty-eight and twenty-six they were still energetic and hot for each other, and regular exercise kept them fit and attractive to each other. Combined with their love for each other and their compatibility, their easy nature and youthful ardor, sex was fairly frequent, in spite of their relatively vanilla expressions of desire.

This particular night Chris was going at Yvonne pretty hard, and she was reacting passionately. As her screams of desire increased, his excitement grew, responding to her pending climax. As her orgasm hit, she thrashed wildly, she grabbed his hair and her eyes went feral. She barked her explosion at him, her mouth open, face frozen in a frozen mask of paralyzing passion.

Her climax spurred his, and he buried himself deep inside her, basting her insides with several blasts of steaming semen.

As they came back down from their ecstasy, he rolled off her to the side and kissed her neck. "It’s so hot," he whispered, "watching you come. I love it." She squirmed against him, angling her head to give him the sensitive area between her ear and shoulder. He trailed kisses up and down.

"M-mm, nice," she said. "I like to see your face when you cum."

"You made me cum."

"I think your fucking made you cum," she jibed. He could hear the smile in her voice. "You were really giving it to me there,"

"Yeah, that helped," he answered. "But when you came, it made me explode."

"Really?"

He pulled back, and turned her face to his. "Yeah, really," he explained, his eyes searching hers for a jest, and seeing none. "You didn't know? That seeing you cum puts me over the edge?" Her eyes were earnest and sincere and she shook her head.

"No," she responded honestly, "usually I'm a little preoccupied."

"Well, it's true," he said. "Seeing you so excited, so turned on, letting loose, it sends me right over the top."

She nestled into his shoulder, and they drifted off to sleep.

A few nights later, they were beginning to caress and fondle each other as they ignored the television. His hand dropped to her breast and gripped it tightly, and she sighed. She reached for his growing member, stroked it inside his pants, then pushed him back on the sofa, scrabbling at his belt and zipper.

"Are you thinking about it?" she asked as she worked his erect shaft from his pants, "Are you getting excited about watching me cum?" she teased.

"Fuck yeah. It's so hot," he grinned.

"What else?" she asked, pulling his pants and briefs under his ass as he lifted his hips. She pulled them past his knees and settled her face over his crotch, wrapping her slender fingers around his swollen member. She looked up into his eyes, the swelling head at her chin. "What else do you think of? What else gets you excited?"

"Lots of things," he answered nonchalantly as her lips wrapped lovingly around the head of his cock. "What about you?"

And so began a session of teasing and talking as they exchanged ideas, innocent variations they each had imagined and would like to try. She sucked his cock while he said how he liked to see her suck his dick after he fucked her, and taste her own pussy on him. He licked her pussy as she related wanting to see him shoot his cum on her tits, to see it shooting out. He told her he would do that for her if she would do what he wanted. They switched places, and she sat back on the couch, spreading herself, and he moved between her legs. Climbing on top, he slipped his cock inside her, feeling her wet sheath grip him, soaking and welcoming as she groaned.

He held himself up on his arms, looking down into her beautiful face as he stroked inside her. "You like my cock fucking you," he told her, and she nodded. "Your pussy is so wet for me," he added. "I love fucking you."

"Me, too," she affirmed.

"It's so wet," he told her. "Are you gonna suck it for me?"

"Oh, yeah," she cooed. "I want your cock in my mouth."

"Tell me," he commanded, "tell me what you will do."

"I want you to pull your cock out of my pussy and put it in my mouth," she whispered. "I want to taste my hot pussy on your cock. I want to suck the cock that fucked me."

He pushed all the way in, swirled his hips, burying himself inside her. He felt her juices seeping out, soaking his balls. He knew she was getting off on it, just like he was. The thrill was pushing him close, faster than ever before; the mental game inspiring him and driving his arousal. He pulled out, grabbed her hands, and sat her up on the couch, pulling her face to his cock.

She looked up at him, eyes burning with the same excitement he was feeling. She kept her eyes drilled into his as she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the tip. She sucked, and swirled her tongue around it, then pulled off with a wet pop.

"So hot," she cooed. "My cunt is delicious on your cock."

He swooned as she took it back in, sucking him hungrily; eyes closed now, her face wrapped in lust as she sucked her juices off his shaft. He felt his balls tighten, sensed the imminent explosion threatening.

"You're gonna make me cum!" he hissed, "fuck, I'm gonna cum!"

She pulled her mouth off, stroking his shaft, aiming the head at her chest. "Do it, baby, show me that cum. I want to see it shoot out, it’s so hot, shoot it on my tits!"

His head fell backwards and he groaned as his cock exploded. He felt the first blast jet out, heard her moan with appreciation, then looked down to see the second and third blasts launch from his cock, splattering onto her full breasts as she stroked him. She pulled him closer as the smaller pulses oozed from his cock, pressed between her mounds, and she sighed, and rubbed his cock on herself, smearing the fruits of their passion.

The next morning, a Saturday, he was up before her as usual and made coffee, brought her a cup in bed the way she liked. She propped up some pillows and sat against them with her mug, and he sat on the edge of the bed, near her hip. She sipped, and looked at him, and grinned back at his goofy expression.

"What?" she asked.

"Last night," he smiled back broadly.

"Different," she said, still smiling, eyes narrowed. "And fun."

"It was that," he agreed.

"We should do more of that," she offered from behind her mug, eyes smiling.

"Cumming on your tits?"

"That too," she quipped. "but more making each other happy."

"I'm for that."

A few nights later they were in bed; after foreplay he was getting ready to push her legs apart and enter her, but she squirmed away. "I want it from the back," she said, climbing onto her hands and knees and looking back at him over her shoulder. "Doggie."

His eyes bulged wide as he looked at her perfect ass wiggling in his direction. Her knees were wide apart and her pussy glared at him, eager and open. He moved in behind her and slipped the head of his cock to her opening and pressed himself inside her. His groan matched hers.

"O-oh, give it to me, hard," she urged. "It feels different; deeper."

He felt it too, like he was hitting places he hadn't touched inside her before. He grabbed her hips and thrust into her, getting grunts in response. She pushed back onto him. His hands moved to her shoulders and pulled her against him as he thrust, then slid down her slender back, tracing her spine as he pumped himself inside her as her squeals increased. His hands moved to the slender, firm globes of her ass. She lowered her head, arching her stomach down, changing the angle of his penetration.

"I feel your balls," she said from the pillow where her face rested. "They’re banging into my clit."

He looked down to see his cock sliding into her, her pussy wet and stretching around his shaft. With her ass up and legs wide, her cheeks parted and her crinkle peeked at him from its hiding place in her sexy valley.

"It's so hard to resist," he whispered, "you can't imagine how much I want to." His hands caressed her smooth globes.

"What? What's got your attention?"

"Your ass," he told her, and stroked his thumb across the opening. "I want to push my thumb in." He stroked the rubbery wrinkled skin, pressing gently.

"What's stopping you?"

"Are you sure?"

"It excites you, so it excites me. Go ahead; I'm along for the ride. Do it."

He put his thumb into his mouth, wet it, and returned it to her ass. The thrill of newness, of dirty forbidden entry, unknown and kinky, made his head spin as the opening resisted, and relented, and his thumb pushed into the hot channel of her anus.

"Oh, fuck, that's so hot," he uttered, cramming his cock into her.

"Oh, yeah, fuck me," she cried out, "push your thumb in my ass while you fuck me!"

The thrill overwhelmed him and he bellowed his climax, his thumb wrapped tightly by her clenching muscle as she came with him, her screams matching his as his cock disgorged its load into her.

He stayed pushed inside her as he came down, the passion and urgency feeding his body. He felt her trembling subside, her tension ease, and he looked down to see his thumb and cock still inside her. He felt an victorious thrill at seeing her ass clench around his digit, like he had secretly broken a rule and got away with it. He slipped his cock out, then his thumb, studying her reaction, then rolled off to the side. She rolled over and faced him.

"That was different," she grinned.

"That was HOT," he corrected. "Did you like it?"

"Pretty much," she agreed, "but more because I felt how excited you got!"

"I got pretty excited," he leered. "It made me cum, like, right away."

"I noticed," she laughed, then added, "and that made ME cum!" She kissed him, then pulled away. "You should do it again sometime."

"I've dreamed about it. Forever, I think."

"You know," she told him, roiling onto her back, “if there is something you want to do, like that, I'm up for it."

"Really?" he asked, his brain suddenly whirling with ideas. "Cool." He fell silent for a little bit, lost in his thoughts. "Same for me, sweetie,"

"Okay." He lay next to her, and took her hand, held it tight for a minute, then rolled on his side.

"I love you," he told her.

"Me too."

The next day she surprised him. She had gone shopping during the day, and when he got home from work she showed him the two boxes on her dresser, one pink, one blue, decorated with lids, like keepsake boxes. Next to each was a pack of stationary, note cards and envelopes.

"What for?" he asked in the shorthand speech that married couples use.

"Fantasy notes," she explained proudly. "You write one and put it in the blue box. I put mine in the pink box." She showed them how they fit, opening the lid. "Then you read mine, and we do it. And then it's your turn."

"A pleasure game," he said, understanding.

"So we don't wait so long." She handed him his pack of cards and envelopes. "Put these somewhere you won't lose them.” He took them and smiled at her appreciatively. She tilted her head at him. "Maybe we try something this weekend?"

He kissed her then, the hand holding the cards slipping behind her back and pulling her close. When he pulled his lips away he held her body against his. "Who goes first?" he grinned.

She gave him and incredulous look softened by her broad smile. "Why, me, of course; it was my idea!"

On Saturday morning he set the pattern for their game, opening her box while she showered and reading her card. On the third pass he realized his mouth was hanging open, and he shut it, and kept the card, thinking he would save it as a memento. And that night he fulfilled her desire to have him lick her pussy, and then switch to her ass while he fingered her. On subsequent weekends they traded turns; he got to give her a facial, she got to tie him to the bed and tease him for hours. He got her to shave her pussy, she got him to jerk off for her. Inspired by her he bought a dildo and bullet vibe and got to watch her get herself off. She sat on his face until she came, he fucked her and made her clean his cock with her mouth. He got her to watch porn with him, she got him to watch gay porn.

Each time they enjoyed something new, fulfilling a desire, expressing themselves and stretching their imaginations and having their fantasies fulfilled. They enjoyed it, not just in the receiving night, but on the giving side, too. They reveled in sharing, in doing for the other, and seeing each other’s wishes fulfilled, gaining thrills from each other’s excitement.

"I checked your 'pleasure box' he told her one day, “it's empty. It's your turn this week."

"I know," she replied wistfully, and turned away and tried to change the subject, talking of other things. He went along until she ran out of steam and they fell into silence. But he hadn't forgotten.

"So, are you going to leave me a card?"

"Is that all you can think of?" He was surprised by her tone, sharp and challenging. He held his hands out in mock surrender.

"Whoa, easy, Evie, I was just asking," he recoiled, "I thought maybe you forgot," he explained, and looked at her askance. "I thought you wanted to; I thought you were having fun." As he said it her expression and stance softened from defiant annoyance, to - what? Indecision?

Trepidation tinged her voice. "I am," she began, not looking at him. "I was." She turned her head sharply in his direction. "I did, I enjoyed it, everything." She flashed an embarrassed grin and she turned fully to him, shifting nervously from one foot to the other. "I don't want to stop, but..." Her words trailed off, and she drifted into unspoken thoughts.

He stepped to her, took her hands, looking into her face, waiting until her eyes met his. He saw her nervousness, felt it in her fingers as she played with his, jittery and tense. "What is it, Eve?"

She blew a breath out her nose and her eyes closed momentarily. He watched her as she steeled her jaw, the muscles clenching under the skin, the tendons in her neck visible. "Nervous, I guess. A little afraid?"

"Afraid of me?" he asked, feeling hurt and defensive. "Of something we did? Something I did?"

"No, no," she replied, still nervous, but reacting to his hurt, wanting to sooth him. "No, nervous of...me, I guess."

He took her hand and led her to the den, and sat her on the couch and sat next to her, facing her, their knees touching and holding her hands in his lap. "Tell me," he said, "please."

And she did. She told him of her pleasure at his hands, and of her delight at pleasing him; of the thrill of newness, the excitement of different and the unknown. The tingling fear of exploration tempered by trust and love, of the knowledge that he would not hurt her, and that she would never want to hurt him. The words spilled as water from a fountain, pouring in a rush once the gates opened.

"But now," she continued, and hesitated, and looked in his eyes, and saw all those things she had just described, and she found the courage in them to continue. "But now I want to write my next one, and the one after, and more after that, and I'm afraid; not of you, but of me. Afraid of my desires. Afraid of wanting things I've never wanted, never wanted to want." She swallowed. "Afraid of what it means, afraid of what it will mean to us, do to us." She smiled weakly. "Afraid, maybe, of getting what I want."

He kissed her then, not a passionate, sexy kiss, but a tender, loving one, and she felt the safety of his embrace, felt her fears escape her through the touch of his hands, his lips. She felt understanding and compassion pour from him into her, and she knew, part of her at least knew, that it was going to be okay.

"Poor thing," he whispered into her hair, holding her head to his chest after the kiss. "It's okay, Evie, I get it."

She looked up at him.

"What, you didn't think my imagination was going wild, too?" He grinned, and she returned it. "You thought it was just you, having crazy thoughts, and imagining outrageous fantasies, and hesitating to write them down?" He kissed her again, lightly. "Silly woman. I love you." And she felt it; knew it to be true.

"I love you, too."

"Know this, Yvonne," he said, taking her hands in his again and speaking seriously, looking directly into her eyes. "There is nothing that you want to do that I don't want for you; that I wouldn't do with you, or to you, or for you." His eyes searched hers for confirmation. "Understand?" She nodded, silently. "Nothing," he reaffirmed, "and I expect the same is true for you."

"It is," she told him in a whisper.

"You have ideas and fantasies; so do I," he told her. "Here's what I suggest. We write down the wildest things we can imagine wanting, no matter what, as many as we can think of. Fill our boxes if that's what it takes. Then we read each other’s cards, privately, and decide if we want to go forward. Either one says no, and it's over. Okay?"

She nodded. "When?"

"Let's do it now. No time like the present, while it’s fresh in our minds," he said. “Everything. Don't hold back."

"No limits?"

"No limits," he confirmed. He kissed her and they stood, and then she kissed him, deeper and with more passion, her lips showing her gratitude for his understanding and love.

They separated.

"No limits," she told him, and smiled. She picked up her cards and left the room.