The Mammoth Book of Women's Erotic Fantasies (11 page)

In them, I progress to sitting on him. I force him to lie on the bed and straddle him, pressing hard against his face, making him push his tongue inside me. I force him to stare into my eyes as
he does, so that he can see who is making him do these things. His face begins to go red as he runs out of breath and I shift slightly to allow him some air before settling on him once more. Riding
back and forward – sliding his nose against my lips and feeling his tongue probe inside me – quickly brings me to the point of climax and I push down so that he can suck my clitoris to
finish me off.

Sometimes I vary the action and have him lick my arse. That’s delightful and the idea of it always makes me come in real life. I flatten myself against him and spread my cheeks so that his
tongue is pressed hard against my hole. I order him to push inside me and feel his tongue, wet but suprisingly cold, slither into my back passage. I don’t need to dream about that for long
before fireworks start to explode in my head and my stomach starts to churn with lust.

Everything I’ve fantasized about so far I would, given the chance, enact in real life. I’ve tried to drop subtle hints to see if he is interested, but so far he has not risen to it
and I don’t want to try too hard and offend him. But it adds to my frustration, and in my frustration my fantasies get kinkier. I don’t believe I would ever do any of the following in
real life, but dreaming about it certainly gets me going.

In my fantasy (and in real life too, to be honest) I get irritated by his passivity. He never fights back, he never shows any dismay at what I force him to do. So I decide that I need to test
how far he can be pushed before he starts to fight back. That’s when I resolve to take a lover. I do it openly, telling him in advance that I am going to look for someone. His eyes go all
hurt, but he doesn’t shout or forbid it, or even ask me not to: because I have said it, he accepts it. This annoys me and I push him a little harder: I ask him to recommend someone.

“You must have some nice friends,” I say, “well-hung guys, good looking. Who could I chat up? I want to fuck one of your friends, Brian. Who should it be?”

Finally, I find his breaking point. He refuses, crying and pleading with me. But not for long. I press my hand against his crotch and slide my thigh across him, snuggling close.

“Come on,” I say, using my most seductive voice. “It’ll be exciting. I’ll tell you all about it afterwards.” I slip my hand inside his trousers and feel his
cock. It is fully erect. “And then after that, maybe
we
could have some fun together.” A quick squeeze, a lingering snog and a promise of a good time later and he agrees. He
gives me a name and sets up a meeting.

The good thing about fantasies is that you don’t have to bother with boring detail. I get fixed up with Gary (in reality a workmate of Brian’s and very good looking) and we go out
for dinner. When I’m masturbating, I don’t usually linger on this bit – it isn’t an important part, really – but occasionally I build the scene. I have Gary fuck me in
his flat after our first date, taking me from behind and mounting me like a dog, fucking me hard and rough. He calls me a bitch and a whore and a fucking cheat and I swear back, yelling at him to
fuck me, fill my cunt with his hot prick. I like to make it as rough as possible, no romance or sensitivity at all. I make him scratch and bruise me, so that I have trophies to show Brian
later.

When we finish fucking I hurry home as quickly as possible. Brian is waiting up, as I have ordered him to. I tell him about my evening, describing everything that happened in intimate detail. I
tell him the length of Gary’s cock, how it was much wider than his and stretched and filled me so well. I explain how he threw me on the bed and fucked me from behind, how he was hard and
rough and made me feel used. I begin to strip and show him my bruises and scratches.

“That one,” I say as I point to a livid graze across my thigh, “that was when he came inside me. I could feel it pulsing from his cock into me. It was like an explosion. You
never come that hard, Brian, you just kind of squirt it out a bit.” He nods morosely as he inspects my graze. “Can you smell him?” I ask. “Can you smell his body on
me?” I force his face against me, pressing his nose to my skin. “Can you?” He nods and tells me he can.

“There’s more,” I crow. “I’ve probably lost most of it, but there’s still some of his come inside me.” Carefully, I peel off my panties. “Want to
see?” He tells me he doesn’t, but I ignore him. “Lie down,” I order. Despite his protests he complies and I straddle him once more. “There,” I tell him.
“My cunt’s still all wet and messy and dirty from his spunk. Isn’t it?” I look down and it is. I can smell it myself, the smell of sex. “I’m all dirty,
aren’t I?” He nods. “So clean me up, husband, clean all my lover’s spunk out of me.” I press myself against his mouth and know that he is licking a curious concoction
– my stale juices from earlier, the remains of Gary’s sperm and the fresh secretions of my current excitement. I ride his face for half an hour, sometimes smothering him for a minute at
a time, revelling in the act I have forced upon my husband.

“And just think,” I tell him afterwards, “every time I fuck Gary you’re going to have to clean it up like that.”

Like I say, I don’t think I could do these things in real life – not unless Brian said he wanted me to, and since he doesn’t talk about sex that’s unlikely. I’m not
even sure I’d enjoy it in reality: I’m not big on hurting people’s feelings. But the fantasy is wonderful. I strip myself completely naked, open the windows wide so that I can
feel the afternoon breeze on my skin and stretch myself out on the bed. Sometimes I use a vibrator, but mostly I just use my fingers – they’re more delicate, more sensitive, and
I’ve got them well trained over the years. Sometimes when I’m fantasizing about sitting on Brian’s face I’ll get up on my knees and adopt that position, imagining him below
me, looking down on where his reddened face would be, but mostly I lie back and think of cuckoldry.

It’s a wonderful word, cuckold, so derogatory. In my fantasies I relish using it on Brian. “How’s my little cuckold tonight?” I enquire after a night out with Gary.
“Does the cuckold want to swallow up our juices now?” I imagine Brian’s crestfallen face, silently nodding, readying himself, sliding into position below me.

Recently I have developed the fantasy a bit further. Brian and I have been going through a rough patch, and we haven’t had sex for a couple of months. Even now, though, he is still so
solicitous and caring, and it drives me mad. It makes me want to punish him more in my fantasies, and that’s exactly what I do.

I decide that it isn’t enough for me to have an affair with his friend: I have to let Brian watch it. In real life, I’m not sure there would be many “Garys” who would
agree to this, but in my fantasy he is eager and joins me in goading Brian. The three of us sit on the settee, Gary’s arm around me, his hand lodged on my tit. He looks directly at Brian.

“I’m gonna shag your missus in a while, Brian. That’s okay, isn’t it?” Brian makes no reply, but watches Gary’s snaking hand over my breast. “I love
your wife’s tits, Brian. Don’t you? When did you last see them? Probably weeks ago, I should think. Tell you what, mate, why don’t you get them out for us?”

Brian looks confused and I laugh, shaking my chest provocatively.

“Come on, Brian,” says Gary. “Get on with it, mate, I want a feel.”

Brian leans over and slowly begins to unbutton my blouse, undressing his wife for the benefit of his friend. He peels the blouse apart to reveal my white, lacy bra, carefully chosen because it
is front-fastening. Gary indicates with a nod and Brian unclasps me, releasing my breasts to open view. Gary grips my right nipple and squeezes, while I croon in delight and rest my head on the
settee back, watching Brian as he watches Gary. He swallows hard as Gary lowers his head and takes my breast in his mouth, but says nothing. Gary’s left hand is wandering over my body, across
my naked stomach, down my thighs and back up to my crotch, where he rests his palm, fingers pressing into me. At length he raises his mouth a fraction from my breast.

“Be a good chap, Brian, take her jeans off for me, I’m a bit busy here.”

Brian sinks to the floor and wrestles with my button and zip. I raise my bum from the settee and he begins to drag my jeans down over my hips to my knees. Immediately, Gary places his hand on my
panties, fingers rummaging against them, while Brian completes the removal of my jeans. He sits back on his heels and watches, as Gary’s fingers seek out my lips through the cotton panties
and slide up and down, gathering their moisture against the fabric, creating a damp patch to reveal my excitement. I groan.

Gary gestures once more. “Take her panties off, mate. Let me at her snatch.” Brian reaches forward and slides them from me, revealing my completely shaved pussy. I open my legs wide.
“When did you last see that, Brian?” Gary goads. Brian doesn’t answer.

“He never gets to see it any more. He has to lick it, every time I come home with your spunk inside me, but I make him do it in the dark. He’s not allowed to see anything. I’m
buying him a blindfold tomorrow.”

“We want him to see this, though.”

“Too right. Every last piece of action.” Gary is fingering my pussy, his middle finger sliding between my lips and his index finger circling my clitoris. Brian, sitting beneath me,
watches every move.

“Brian, I’m getting a bit uncomfortable here. Got a hard-on which is threatening to poke a hole in my trousers. Take them off for me.” At first, Brian looks like he will
refuse, but not for long. He reaches towards his friend and undoes his jeans, yanking them down and revealing blue boxer shorts with a large, sex-laden shape hidden beneath them. “The shorts
too, mate.” Brian eases them down and Gary’s fine, chunky erection bounces into view. Immediately, I grip my hand around it and begin to wank him, feeling it grow even harder in my
hand. All the time my eyes are on Brian, while his waver between my face and my hand, following the action, observing my reaction. It is delicious.

I want Gary’s cock in me. I want to be fucked while my husband watches. I pull Gary on top of me and settle him into position, gripping his cock and sliding its silky, purple head against
my lips, pushing forward as I press him towards me, and I sigh as I feel him entering me. I look over his shoulder at Brian, who is watching, dumbstruck.

“Fuck me,” I cry. “Fuck me. Show me how it’s done.” Show Brian how it’s done, more like. Gary begins to thrust into me, hard, long and fast. I always imagine
this to be rough, almost to the point of being painful: again, I’m not interested in romance, just sex, pure animal sex. He pounds into me, his face pressed to my cheek, biting my neck,
fingers scratching at my shoulders and back. He comes quickly, grunting loudly as his spunk spurts deep inside me and I squeal with delight as I watch a pained expression pass over Brian’s
face. Gary slides off me, exhausted and I clasp my knees together, panting with exertion.

“Guess what, Brian?” I whisper.

“What?”

“It’s feeding time, baby.” His eyes widen, silently pleading, but I smile and roll off the settee. “Lie down, cuckold,” I say. Without a word, he does as he is told
and I stretch myself over him. Already, Gary’s sperm is flooding out of me, some of it landing on Brian’s nose and in his eye. I settle myself above him and part my lips, watching in
delight as a string of silver sperm slides from me into my husband’s waiting mouth. He swallows and opens again to receive another drop. When most of it has fallen into his mouth I press
myself against him. “Lick,” I tell him. “Lick out every last drop.”

This never fails to bring me to a climax. The thought of my helpless husband hoovering up another man’s sperm from his wife’s pussy leaves me trembling with lust. Yesterday, I had
the most shattering climax of my life as this fantasy came to a conclusion. And as soon as I’ve finished writing this I shall be going upstairs to strip off and do it again.

What’s next for my fantasy cuckold? I’m not sure yet. The best ideas come to me in the middle of masturbation so I shall probably find out very soon. I know my treatment of Brian is
getting nastier all the time, and yet in real life I still love him dearly. I don’t think I could ever do this to him, but perhaps it would be best if I never have the opportunity to find
out.

Meanwhile, I will continue to use my fantasies to spice up what is already becoming a drab, middle-class housewife and mother’s existence. Thank you for letting me share this with you.
Writing this story has been a terrific turn-on.

Lili (San Diego, USA)

When he is gone from me, I miss him. When he is gone from me, I await his return. But I also indulge myself in thoughts of him and in these thoughts, we are naked and he is
hard, aroused at the sight of me, aroused by the knowledge that he can take me and use me however he wants to. Always, I crave that, to be the object of his desire and his appetite, and when he is
away, I dwell in the memories of how he has used me.

I remember how he puts the leather cuffs on me, how he locks the collar in place. The feel of leather against my skin, its tight grip around my wrists, my ankles, my neck, captivates. But no
more so than what he does to me once he runs a rope through their o-rings, connecting my appendages, making me a puppet to his whims.

He lays on his back and tells me to climb on top of him. “Get me inside you,” he says simply enough.

I straddle him, spreading myself above him. I take his hard cock into my hand, aim it between my lips, and slowly rock him into me. Because he has ordered this at the start of our love-making,
I’ve had no foreplay to prime me, but I know that our brand of foreplay isn’t far off. I know it’ll start when he’s fully in me and when he draws that rope taut through the
cuffs.

I grow wet as my cunt devours his cock. He feels huge inside me and it makes me want to ride him vigorously. But before I can, he stops me. He tells me to hold still.