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When you’re alone, usually at home, when your wife is out doing something you don’t understand and have little interest in, do you fantasize? I don’t mean fantasizing about winning the lottery, bowling a 300 game or hitting a hole in one. I mean, real fantasizing. About sex. About big breasted, big assed loose women who want you and will do anything you desire.

I do and I don’t believe you don’t. My fantasies are usually not unrealistic or bizarre. I don’t dream about a beautiful white witch who will magically manifest a huge erection between my legs that lasts for hours. I have what I have. I only imagine I’ll use it to its full ability and the women of my fantasy will be forever grateful.

I fantasize about realistic scenarios. Something that could conceivably happen. For instance, meeting an attractive woman during a business trip, having a few drinks in the hotel lounge and then wandering off to one of our rooms to satisfy each other’s need for companionship. Just once, or twice, and then we go our separate ways, never to meet again.

A recurring fantasy of mine is a simple one. I imagine it could actually happen but, realistically, it probably won’t. I’m sitting in an easy chair at home, alone, reading or watching TV. Someone enters the darkened house from the back entrance, walks into the living room where I’m sitting and just sits on my lap.

My fantasy woman is not beautiful but very pretty, with long dark hair, dark eyes, pouty lips, slightly larger than average breasts with large, prominent nipples and unshaven pubis neatly trimmed. I know all this because, in my fantasy, she’s come into the living room completely naked and she sits on my lap, crosses her legs and runs her fingers through my hair while I catch my breath.

My fantasy usually doesn’t go much further than that. I just can’t imagine what comes next or how it will play out. I keep repeating the opening, changing tiny details, trying to make it perfect.

One evening, several months ago, Marge, my wife, and I were playing, naked together after a particularly satisfying sexual romp. We were just being silly. Actually, we were the best part of two bottles of red wine inebriated. Unexpectedly, Marge brought up the subject of fantasies.

Marge wanted to know if I had fantasies. I admitted it but, when she pressed for details, I was too embarrassed to tell her. Changing tactics, Marge told me one of her fantasies. It seems she had vulgar thoughts about men with long tongues. I considered her fantasy a realistic possibility since tongue activity was one of my specialties and her reaction one of her specialties.

Her revelation put me in a difficult position. I felt obligated to tell her something, so I confessed to my thought about a naked woman walking into the room and sitting on my lap. When she pressed for details, I had to admit I didn’t have any. My fantasy ended with the woman comfortable in my lap and me frozen.

Marge thought that was odd, even unhealthy. She did admit that I was better in real life than in my fantasies. I took that as another complement. What I didn’t know, was that Marge wanted to know how my fantasy might end.

A few weeks later, I was working at home on a Thursday. I worked at home three days a week, usually including a Thursday. Thursday was a good choice, since Marge had a number of activities on Thursdays. She left early to volunteer at the local rehabilitation center, had lunch with one of her girl friends and then spent the afternoon working with the garden club.

It was a little after noon. I was taking a break for lunch, hunched over my plate in an easy chair watching the local news and weather. Someone came into the kitchen through the side door. I was surprised that Marge was home so early. It wasn’t part of her usual routine. I wondered what brought her home.

I waited patiently while Marge puttered around in the kitchen. Eventually, I heard her footsteps coming into the living room. I looked up as she rounded the end of the sofa. The woman who walked toward me wasn’t Marge. This woman had long dark hair, dark eyes, pouty lips, slightly larger than average breasts with large, prominent nipples and unshaven pubis neatly trimmed. I knew this because this woman was, except for the black, three-inch heels, completely naked.

Without saying a word, she walked over to me, turned and sat in my lap. She said only one word to me after she settled down, wiggling her ass as she did so, “Breathe.”

She smiled and put her arm around my neck. I sat frozen, exactly as in my fantasy. I did know two things. I knew the woman well, and Marge had put her up to what she was doing.

The woman sitting in my lap, naked, with her legs crossed, was Janice. Janice lived up the block from us and was a frequent visitor to our house with her husband, Travis. Now she was cuddled up in my lap, naked, without her husband nearby. I suspected Marge knew what was going on but did Travis? What the hell was I supposed to do? Should I keep to the details of my fantasy and do nothing, possibly disappointing Janice, Marge Ankara bayan escort and myself or should I take Janice on a wild ride including everything I could imagine with a naked woman and possibly disappoint Travis?

I had never been in this situation before. I had no guidance on how to proceed. I sat silently and still while Janice ran her fingers through my hair, played with the buttons on my shirt, nibbled gently on my ear lobes and kissed my neck. After about ten minutes, Janice sat up straight and got up off my lap. Standing in front of me, she whispered, “Maybe next time,” and headed for the kitchen. She puttered around in the kitchen for several minutes, presumably putting her clothes back on, and left the way she came in.

My thoughts were intensely wild. Had I done the right thing, possibly saving two marriages, or had I screwed up the best opportunity of my life, organized and condoned by Marge and Janice? I could still feel the weight of Janice on my lap. I could still feel the heat of her genitals through my pants against my erection. I could still feel her soft kisses on my neck and ears and the warmth of her breath against my skin. “Fuck,” I thought, “what have I done or haven’t done?”

Working at my desk in the afternoon was impossible. I couldn’t concentrate on the task at hand, only the memory of best ten minutes of the day. Marge came home about half past five. I met her in the kitchen without attempting to hide the stain Janice had left on my trousers.

“How was your day?” Marge asked with a welcoming smile.

“Fine,” I responded. “You know. Same old, same old.”

“Anything unusual happen?” she asked.

I was sure Marge had arranged for Janice’s visit that afternoon, so I interpreted her question as an attempt to get me to tell her about it. I decided to string her along for as long as I could. “Nah. Just another boring day working at home,” I said.

“Come on, Tyler. Something interesting must have happened,” pushed Marge.

I was even more positive that Marge knew about Janice’s visit. “If you’re so sure something unusual happened then why don’t you tell me all about it?” I asked.

“I haven’t a clue. I just can’t believe your days at home are without something happening that’s worth talking about,” Marge said.

I thought I’d give her a hint for her to follow. “One of the neighbors did stop by for a short visit but I don’t think that’s unusual or worth a conversation,” I told her.

“See, your days aren’t just work. What did she want?”

She? She knows it was a woman. Marge did set it up. So, what is her purpose in trying to get me to tell her what happened? Is she testing my loyalty to her or is she looking for confirmation that Janice delivered the goods and she’s looking for a thank you? What’s the right answer? Is there a right answer? I tried a defensive move. “How did you know it was a ‘she’?”

“Did I say ‘she’?”

“You did, so you must have known she was coming by today. Why don’t we cut to the finish and you tell me what you two discussed and why you thought she would stop in to see me?”

“Okay,” said Marge. “But first I want you to know that I didn’t ask Janice to come over nor did I suggest a reason she might. However, I had a feeling that she might want to see you in person. I was just asking in case she didn’t. I didn’t want to create a problem about something that didn’t happen,” explained Marge.

“I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to say. Why don’t you just tell me what you and Janice discussed and why you thought she might want to see me afterward?”

“Okay. I run into Janice frequently and we usually have interesting conversations. I ran into her downtown last weekend and we had lunch together. Somehow, the topic of fantasies came up.”

Interesting,” I commented. “I have a good idea how the topic came up,” I thought.

“Do you want to hear more or not?” Marge said.

“I do. Go on.”

“Well, we exchanged some personal fantasies and she shared one of her husband’s fantasies. I felt I should share one of yours as well. I suddenly realized how much Janice looked like the woman you described when you told me about your fantasy. Do you fantasize about Janice?” Marge asked.

“Don’t change the subject. Finish the story and, for your information, the answer is no.”

“Well, I told her your fantasy. That’s all.”

“She had a lot of information about me that only you and I know,” I pushed.

“I did tell her the details. She seemed interested so I told her.”

“How was it that she came to visit me?” I asked.

“The way she acted, I thought I might have said too much. I wasn’t sure what she would do.”

“Your instincts were right. She came over to visit this afternoon.”

“Was she appropriate?” Marge asked.

How was I supposed to answer that? She wasn’t appropriate as a neighbor but she certainly played to my fantasy appropriately. “That depends on what you mean by appropriate,” I offered.

“Did she want to talk about your fantasy?” Marge asked.

“She Escort bayan Ankara didn’t say much,” I said.

“Then how did you know she knew a lot about your fantasy?

“Do you really want to know?” I asked.

“Probably not but you’re going to tell me and I’m going to listen,” she said.

“There’s not much to tell,” I started. “She played the part perfectly.”

“You mean she sat in your lap.”

“She did.”

“Naked?”

“She even crossed her legs,” I confirmed. “She’s a perfect match for the woman in my fantasy,” I added.

“And?” prompted Marge.

“There is no ‘and’,” I said. “It ended there just like my fantasy.”

“She just left?” asked Marge.

“She just left,” I confirmed.

“Damn,” exclaimed Marge. “Travis, you have to believe me. I didn’t set up Janice to come over to see you. I didn’t even hint that she should.”

“I believe you,” I agreed. “But what do we do now?” I asked.

“Nothing, I think,” suggested Marge. “I think she’s satisfied her curiosity and it won’t come up again.”

“I’d agree with you except for one thing,” I said.

“What’s that?”

“Something she said.”

“What did she say?”

“‘Maybe next time’,” I repeated.

“Oh. That could be a problem,” agreed Marge.

“So, assuming there’s a ‘next time,’ what do we do?” I asked again.

“I think the correct question is what do you do? I’m not involved,” said Marge.

“Oh, you’re involved. You’re my wife. Everything I do involves you and if we’re talking about sex with another woman, you’re involvement is my highest priority,” I assured her.

“I get that but don’t you want to see how your fantasy ends?” questioned Marge.

“Not at the expense of our marriage,” I reaffirmed.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but our marriage is not going to have a problem. If Janice shows up again …”

“You mean ‘when’ Janice shows up again,” I interrupted.

“Okay. When Janice shows up again, you have my absolute permission to push her as far as she wants to go,” Marge finished.

“Does that mean I can fuck her?” I asked somewhat tentatively.

“Until her brains fall out if that’s what she wants,” reaffirmed Marge.

“I can’t believe you said that. Why would you allow that?” I asked.

“I want to see how your fantasy ends too,” Marge said.

“There has got be more to it,” I stated.

“Okay. I do have a small ulterior motive. I might be able to use what happens between you and Janice to my advantage.”

“Explain what you mean by ‘small ulterior motive’ for me.”

“You’re familiar with Janice’s husband, Travis?”

“I think I get it. You want to know Travis better.”

“Assuming you get to know Janice better,” Marge confirmed.

“You want to fuck him?” I asked.

“And you want to fuck Janice,” stated Marge. “What’s the problem?”

“None, I guess. I’m just surprised. I think it’s possible that you had a hand in having Janice come over.”

“And, if I did, are you all that upset about it?” asked Marge.

“No but I do think I should get in shape,” I suggested.

“Now?” asked Marge.

“Now is perfect and every day for the next week, I think,” I pushed.

“Deal,” said Marge. “Maybe you should do two a day workouts.”

The rest of the evening was lost in the madness of wild, extreme, sometimes vulgar, sex. We missed dinner but not much else.

The rest of the week, we rose early, had a brief workout and went to work. Evenings we had dessert after dinner. Wednesday night Marge proposed a dress rehearsal. I sat in my usual chair in front of the TV. Marge walked into the room in three-inch heels and nothing else and sat in my lap. She crossed her legs, ran her fingers through my hair, kissed my ears and neck and then went rogue, ad-libbing since my fantasy didn’t have a specific ending. She wiggled her naked pussy on my pants leaving a considerable damp spot. She then helped me out of my damaged pants and the rest of my clothing just for the fun of it.

She straddled my hips, wiggled her naked pussy on my now naked erection and simultaneously managed a magnitude eight kiss with unimaginable tongue action. Without much help, my erection found the entrance to home plate and, together, we left a considerable damp spot on the chair cushion. Afterwards, Marge declared me ‘ready for action.’

I woke up in the middle of the night to take a leak and cleaned the chair cushion with some upholstery cleaner. In the morning, Thursday morning, we skipped the morning routine. Marge wanted to leave me something to work with. Marge left for work with a kiss, a pat on my crotch and a “Have fun, big guy” verbal message. She was sure that Janice was coming by for lunch. If Marge was sure, so was I.

The morning, working, dragged on forever. It’s incredible how the experience of time changes depending on which side of the affair you’re on. I broke for lunch early. I made a chef’s salad and added a beer, something I rarely do. I took my meal into the living room and settled into my oversized Bayan escort Ankara chair. Two minutes later, I went into the bedroom to change my clothing. I put on a t-shirt and gym shorts without underwear, commando style. Barefoot, I went back to finish my lunch.

I had finished my salad and was just finishing the beer when someone came quietly into the kitchen through the side door. Whoever it was, lingered for a while in the kitchen. I set my lunch dishes aside and waited. Suddenly, I had an inspiration. I stood up and quickly stripped off my shirt and shorts and sat down again.

I heard the woman’s heels for a couple of steps on the kitchen floor before she reached the carpeted dining area on the way to the living room. I sat quietly with my hands folded in my lap and looking expectantly at the corner of the sofa where the woman would first appear.

Janice walked slowly around the end of the sofa with a huge smile, heels and nothing else. Her hand went to her mouth and her eyes grew wide when she saw the state of my undress. Obviously pleased, Janice walked in front of me and, instead of sitting across my lap as she did the previous week, she straddled my hips. She pressed her breasts against my chest, her vagina against my rapidly expanding cock and gave me an earth-shattering kiss.

“You’re bad,” Janice said.

“Me?” I asked.

“You were expecting me.”

“I was.”

“How could you be sure I’d come?” Janice asked.

“Marge was sure and I went with her intuition,” I responded.

“She’s smart.”

“And devious,” I added.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” Janice stated.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” I agreed.

“No problems at home?” asked Janice.

“Not with Marge. How about Travis?” I asked in return.

“He doesn’t know but he wouldn’t mind,” Janice said.

“You’re sure?”

“So sure I’m going to fuck you and enjoy every second,” she committed.

I squeezed my kegel muscles causing my erection to twerk.

“Nice,” said Janice and she began to rub her labia back and forth on my erection, spreading pussy lubricant far and wide. She raised her body, held my cock vertical with one hand and settled the entrance to her vagina on the head of my erection.

“Ready?” she asked.

I response I shifted my hips upward. Janice responded by closing her eyes and settling down on my erection until our pubic hair was entangled.

“Ohhhh,” cooed Janice.

I held my breath as she pumped up and down on my cock.I supported her with my arms around her waist and my hands on her back. She threw her head back, arched her back and thrust her breasts out. I took advantage. I kissed, sucked and nibbled on her magnificent nipples.

“Fuck. Fuck. That feels so good,” Janice moaned. “You feel so good.”

She leaned forward, leaned back and thrust her hips against my erection, repeatedly. Back and forth, up and down, she swallowed my cock with her pussy. I nibbled her tits when I could. I pushed my cock deeper into her on every cycle. Soon, all the activity began to have the obvious reaction.

“It’s coming. It’s coming,” Janice cried. “Don’t stop. Don’t slow down. It’s almost here. Janice screamed as her orgasm hit. Her shoes ended up on the floor and I felt the hot expulsions of her orgasm landing on my thighs. She went almost limp and she fell forward with her tits against my chest and her head on my shoulder breathing heavily.

A few minutes later, Janice took a deep breath and sat more erect on my lap. I repeated twerking my erection.

“Ohhhh. You’re still hard. You didn’t cum. You want to go again?” Janice asked.

I responded with another twerk.

“I think I can. Just go slow for a while.”

We started slow but, within several minutes, we were rutting with the same physical abandonment as before only, this time, when Janice came, she flooded my thighs and fell more heavily against my chest gasping for breath.

I let her rest longer than the first time before I twerked again.

“Who are you?” asked an exasperated Janice. “You’re unbelievable. You’re still inside me and you still haven’t cum.”

She wiggled her hips against my crotch and I responded as she expected.

“Okay,” she said. “One more time but this time you’re going to cum, inside me so I know it’s real.”

Janice wasn’t kidding. I don’t know where she got the energy but she began squeezing her pelvic muscles as soon as she started humping me again. She squeezed on every input. She squeezed on every output. She squeezed between inputs and outputs and outputs and inputs. Every motion I made was met with a squeeze.

I had to push harder to enter her and pull harder to retreat. My erection began to tingle with her help. I began to sense that I wasn’t going to last much longer, but neither was Janice. It was the inevitable consequence of our coupling. Janice began to tingle too.

When we came, we came together. She flooded my thighs again and I pulsed semen inside more times than I could ever remember. This time, when Janice pushed herself up from my chest after resting for several minutes, she backed off my hips, turned and sat across my lap.

“Thank you,” Janice whispered in my ear before she nibbled on my ear lobe. I could feel the hot combined fluids of our fucking draining from her vagina onto my thighs and flowing between my legs to settle on the chair cushion.

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