Is every sexual fantasy meant to be realized? Tonight, as I talk with my husband, I wonder.

"You can't be serious!" I exclaim, trying not to raise my voice. "How could you imagine me doing such a thing?"

"Relax, Evelyn. I am just suggesting it because you seem to fantasize a lot about it lately."

"Fantasize is the keyword here," I insist. "Just because a book turns me on does not mean that I want to turn fiction into reality."

“Come on, love,” he says softly, “you have to admit that the book is more than just an indulgence for you. It’s become an obsession. How many times have you read it?”

"Five times," I reply. "Yes, I enjoy reading it, what can I tell you? But that doesn’t mean I am such a... such a..."

"Such a what?" he prods.

"Such a pervert."

He chuckles softly and says, “It’s funny you use this word now. Remember when you first encouraged me to read this novel? You described the main character as a strong and intelligent woman unafraid to challenge the patriarchal societal norms and explore her sexuality.”

I fulminate. I am speechless. It is impossible to have a discussion with this man; he always wants to have the last word.

He draws nearer and starts massaging my tense shoulder. I instantly relax.

"Don't worry, love, just try to think about it, all right? You have only one life, you know? Why deny yourself experiences that could bring you so much pleasure?"

His words echo in my mind while his fingers work their magic on my upper back. All the tension dissolves. It is true—he’s right. Only one life to live. My thoughts drift, and I imagine, for the thousandth time, how it would feel to take a lover outside my marriage. Lovers, rather. Plural is hotter. How good it would feel to let new hands discover my body while I am still young. To offer myself naked to them. To run my fingers on their muscled bodies, yet unexplored by my touch. To come, again and again, in their unfamiliar arms. To enjoy who I want, when I want, while my husband remains faithful to me. To experience the frenzy of wild sexual encounters, while he waits for me to come home, and when I finally return to him, to let his diligent tongue bring me to a wonderful last climax before falling asleep in his arms. This would be the highest form of masculine sexual submission. And the deepest plunge into feminine sexual freedom.

My slit is leaking. My bud is aching. I need his tongue right now.

"Enough. You've been very naughty tonight. In order to earn my forgiveness, you'll have to apologize with your tongue... between my thighs. And do not expect anything in return!"

"I would not dream of it," he retorts, smiling.

He lowers himself and begins kissing my wet folds. I can't suppress a moan of pleasure and surprise. Despite him not having started to lick my clit yet, I feel so close already. However, he stops teasing me and focuses directly on the center of my pleasure. A few licks later, I am over the edge.

Never in my life have I climaxed so quickly—not even during moments of self-pleasure.

As I am still shaking from the intensity of my muscle contractions, I hear him say teasingly, "Someone is receptive tonight! I wonder what could be the cause..."

"Shut up and keep licking!"

I come four times in a row, each orgasm more explosive than the last. It has never happened before.

~oOo~

Standing in the kitchen, sipping on my Sunday morning coffee, I relish the view outside the window. The sound of my husband's approaching footsteps echoes softly.

"Good morning, my love," he says as he steps closer. "How did you sleep last night?"

"Very well, thank you. Your services helped quite a bit yesterday. What about you?"

"Not too bad either," he responds. "Although I was woken up by vivid erotic dreams."

I chuckle. Gently, he kisses my ear and wraps his arms around my waist. Through the fabric of his trousers, I can feel the firm pressure of his raging erection against my buttocks. He continues:

"Talking about dreams, did you have a chance to think about our little conversation?"

I freeze. My heart paces furiously. Did I think about it? Every single minute since I've woken up.

"There is nothing to think about," I lie.

"Are you sure?" He slowly slides his hand in my panties, and he is welcomed by an undeniable wetness. I wish I could tell him to stop, and yet I find myself unable to resist the desire he stirs in me.

"Tell me, my love, what is the last time you had a crush on someone other than me? Or simply a physical attraction? Can you honestly tell me that while you were reading that book of yours, you could resist putting some known faces behind the names of the heroine's lovers? I am sure you know someone you find irresistible. Please, don't lie to me."

His fingers now gently circle around my clit, and his touch, combined with his words, sends electric pulses through my nerves. His teasing grows delightfully unbearable.

"Please, please don't make me answer this question," I manage to articulate, panting as I try to suppress moans of pleasure and hide how turned on I am.

"If you want, my love, you can sleep with whoever you like. I am more than fine with that," he whispers in my ear. At the same time, his finger starts deliberately rubbing my clit. A few seconds later, I come, standing there in the middle of the kitchen, held in his arms, trying not to shout the name of the man I would desperately want inside me.

I turn to face him, sending him a distraught look, panicked by the way my body reacts to his decadent propositions:

"Matt, we cannot do this. What if someone finds out?"

He raises an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. "Are you going to deny yourself the fulfillment of your deepest desires just to abide by social expectations? I didn't know you were so conventional."

I bite my lips.

"But Matt," I implore, "I love you so much. What if reality turns out differently than our fantasies? What if it destroys our relationship? Aren’t you afraid of the consequences if I act on my desires?"

He leans in closer, his gaze intense and unwavering.

"And aren't you afraid of the consequences if you don’t? Could you live with regrets for the rest of your life?"

"Won't you have any regret if I fall in love with someone else?"

His expression softens slightly, but the intensity remains.

"I don’t want our marriage to merely survive because you have no other options," he answers. "I want it to thrive because you chose me over everyone else. I want you to be able to experience the delight of love and sex with anyone you want, but still choose to come back to me every single time. Can you imagine giving me a better proof of love than that?"

"Besides," he continues, his voice gentle yet compelling, "have you ever heard of polyamory? If you could find love with someone else alongside us, I would be happy for you. It might make me jealous, but it would also be intensely erotic. Isn’t that the essence of this entire fantasy?"

He kisses me. Intuitively, all my reserves seem perfectly reasonable. Yet, I cannot find any flaw in his reasoning.

"Honey," I say, "if you do this, then you should also be allowed to sleep with other women. It would simply not be fair otherwise! After all, you've always been the more sexual of us two. And I could not survive it. I just can't bear the thought of you being intimate with someone else. I am sorry."

He laughs, but without any trace of mockery or disdain. Instead, he seems genuinely surprised—and perhaps a bit relieved.

"Now we finally come to the crux of the matter."

He smiles and stares straight into my eyes. Unable to sustain his intense gaze, I lower my head and rest it on his chest. I can feel my cheeks flushing.

"Listen, my love," he continues softly, "I don't need to sleep with anyone else but you. What turns me on is the knowledge that I provide you with the highest pleasure I am capable of giving. And we both know now that letting you explore your desires for having other partners is the best way to achieve that. And it’s not like it's hard on me—I really like the idea of you taking a lover."

"Really?" I whisper, my voice barely audible.

"Really. You know, there is nothing I enjoy more than when you tease me. And can you think of a better way to do that?"

I struggle to find any objection, but the truth is, I don't want to. Maybe all I wanted from the beginning was to be convinced. Deep down, I know I have already made my decision.

Fuck.

~oOo~

It is nine-thirty; the time had come for us to say goodbye. I wrap my arms around my husband's neck and press a lingering, provocative kiss upon him. Our tongues dance in an intimate embrace that feels almost scandalous in the middle of a bustling airport. I am getting soaking wet, and I have to resist the temptation of rubbing my pussy upon the hardness I feel pressed on my belly.

When our lips fall apart, I stare at him in the eyes.

"It is your last chance to back off," I say. "Are you sure you want me to do this?"

"We talked long enough about it, love," he answers, smiling. "Do not worry about me; I'll be fine, I promise."

There is not an ounce of doubt nor worry in his tone. Suddenly, it strikes me how confident he must be to let me do this, how sure he is of my feelings for him, and how certain he is that I'll come back to him. I've never found him more attractive than at this very moment. And he is right: no one and nothing can take me away from him.

"There is one more thing, sweetie..." I ask.

"Anything for you."

"I want you to be all desperate and horny when I come back."

"I will, no worries."

"No, but I mean really horny. So I have a little task for you—a challenge that might be a bit difficult but that will definitely be worth the effort."

"Okay... What do you mean by difficult?"

"I don't want you to masturbate while I am gone. No orgasm—none at all. Not even a tiny touch. Absolutely no sexual pleasure whatsoever," I explain, my voice steady and serious. "When I return, I'll tell you all about my adventures... and I’ll make you come hard," I add. "Can you do that for me?"

"Well... I think so."

"I want you to be sure. Promise me."

"I promise."

"Good."

~oOo~

After a long day of business meetings, I'm finally able to enjoy some quiet time with Philip at the fancy restaurant where I've decided to invite him. He looks elegant as usual in his suit, and while my top is certainly revealing, I hope he appreciates the view. At least he can't seem to take his eyes off it, which is a good sign. We start chatting about random subjects, and I notice he becomes a little shy. Perhaps he's taken aback by the intensity of my attention. It’s time to steer our conversation in the direction I need it to go.

"So, Phillip, have you been dating lately?" I ask.

He shakes his head.

"Why not? You told me how heartbreaking it was when your fiancée left you, but you need to move on," I say, trying to keep my tone gentle yet persuasive.

"I know. I just need some time, that's all," he replies.

"Why don't you try a dating app? I'm sure you would have a lot of success. At least, you would have with me," I add, attempting to sound as seductive as possible.

I try to repress the trembling in my voice and act casual, but my heart is racing so fast that I wonder if he can hear it. This is the moment I've been waiting for weeks, and I really don't want to screw it up.

He blushes and seems taken aback, unsure of what to say. Did I go too far too fast? But finally, he responds:

"Well, as I said, I figure I just need some time before starting another relationship."

"I understand," I respond gently. "But you don't have to commit right away. Don’t you miss having sex?"

He looks at me, a bit bewildered.

"I suppose I do, like everyone else. But you know, I'm not sure if I like these apps very much."

"Sure, I can understand that," I say, trying to keep my tone casual. "Real life is always better. You know what I think you need? A female friend who is ready to have fun with you, no strings attached. Someone who can help you get over this nasty breakup. What do you say?"

His face looks very serious now. I try to hide the panic building inside me: I need to act as if everything is normal to avoid freaking him out; otherwise, he might pull away completely.

"Let's make things more concrete, Phillip. What if the female friend in question is me? Would you like to have some fun with me?"

He still says nothing. I have never been so close to having a heart attack. I continue nevertheless:

"Tonight?"

~oOo~

One week later, I lay in bed with my husband. We are both naked, and he has an erection that looks unbearably hard.

"It looks like you've honored your promise," I said softly, running a hand over his testicles.

"Indeed."

"So here is what we're going to do," I continue, my voice low and seductive. "I'll give you a handjob while you ask me anything you want. But there is one condition: as soon as you come, we stop this little game. And we will never talk about the events of last week again. Anything you did not have a chance to ask about will stay my secret. Anything untold will be left to your imagination forever."

"But honey," he said, his voice strained with desire and apprehension, "in my present state, I won't be able to hold back for long!"

I smiled, my fingers moving sensually over him. "You’d better be mindful of your choices then."

I start stroking him sensually.

"You've been such a good husband, staying denied while your wife had the best sex of her life."

"The best sex... Really?"

I nod.

"He is really incredible in bed. He swims four times a week, and it shows."

"Does he lick you better than I do?" he asks, his breath having started to quicken.

"Oh, I don't know; I did not let him. Being the gentleman he is, he of course asked me for permission to give me oral sex, but I told him that I had plenty of that at home already, so I wanted something different with him."

"But did you come then? You never come from penetration. At least with me..."

"From penetration alone, no, I did not. But his incredibly talented fingers combined with his beautiful penis inside me were more than enough to drive me over the edge."

"Is he... large?"

I feel that he is on the verge of climax. It won't be long anymore.

"Quite large. And long as well. In fact, it is the first time that a man has reached my cervix. And does it feel as good as they say to be fucked so deep, all the way until the end of the vagina? Yes, it does!"

"Are you serious?"

He tries to hold back, but I can see that he is nearly there. Time for a final blow.

"Uh-huh. What is more, he has incredible stamina, meaning that he always manages to make me come several times before ejaculating. Do you know what his record is? Three times in a row, from his fingers, while being inside me all the time. No orgasm gap problem with him."

My husband erupts, and I let him catch his breath.

"Look at the mess you've made!"

I give him a moment to collect himself before saying, "Now I would like something for myself too. Talking about all that made me very horny, but I had so much sex last week that my pussy is completely sore! So I need something different tonight."

"What do you have in mind?"

"I want you to lick my anus. I've always wondered how it felt, but I've never dared to ask. And this part of my body isn't sore yet!"

He looks taken aback but intrigued.

"Sure," he says softly.

I position myself on all fours on the bed, arching my back invitingly, and Matt starts to work with enthusiasm, and his wet tongue feels delicious against the sensitive nerves of my bottom.

"By the way, Phillip is coming over for dinner tomorrow. Naturally, he'll be staying for the night. I hope you don't mind sleeping on the couch!"

Eager licks come by way of answering my question. Anilingus really feels divine. I probably won't come that way, but Phillip will take care of that tomorrow.

While waves of pleasure run through my spine, I stare at the book on my night table—the novel that aroused all my fantasies and that eventually has led me to discover sexual freedom. Its title is written in white on a red cover and it describes my situation so perfectly that I can't keep myself from whispering it with a smile. The words echo softly in my minds as the pleasure continues:

"A perfect marriage."

~oOo~

So, is every sexual fantasy meant to be realized? At least mine was. What about yours?