Off Limits
Page 26
“I love you,” he rolls over toward me, pulling me into him.
Scanning his eyes, I can see the sincerity and hear it in his voice.
“I love you, too,” I brush my lips against his as he rests his forehead against mine.
After a few moments, he sighs and leans back on his pillow with me still wrapped in his arm. Laying my head on his chest, I listen to the beat of his heart as his chest rises and falls.
“What’s wrong, babe?” I ask, running my fingers through his chest hair.
Another heavy sigh escapes his lips.
He’s thinking about something, but I don’t know what. Again, I wish I could read his mind as he can with mine.
“Are you going to talk to me?” I ask, stretching over to my side of the bed as I grab my cup and take a drink with the blanket still wrapped around me.
“Cathy, if I ask you something,” his voice trails off.
I give him a minute to collect his thoughts or gather his words, but they never come.
“What? What do you want to ask me?”
“No, never mind,” he says.
“Oh no, you can’t do that. You can’t start something and then say whatever. That’ll drive me crazy. What is it? You can ask me anything you want; you know that.”
His eyes dart back and forth, and there’s a faint smile beginning to pull at his lips.
“You know how we’ve been talking about our fantasies lately?” he sits up and grabs his phone.
How could I forget?
Since we’ve been having a lot more sex lately, we’ve also been talking a lot more about sex, including our fantasies.
The odd part is as much as we’ve talked about some of the things we’d like to do or try, I’ve been the only one doing any of the talking. I’ve told him of all the things that interest me, including one of my darkest fantasies of being ‘kidnapped’ and ‘forced’ by my abductor.
Of course, I explained that I want him to be the kidnapper who ‘forces’ me, but I’ve always been into sadism and masochism. Sometimes rope binding and spanking just aren't enough in the world of BDSM.
I’ve always been a very sexual person and loved all things bad, naughty, dangerous and dirty.
Obviously, I don’t really want to be kidnapped and raped because that would be scary but the whole rape fantasy has always appealed to me as long as it was with someone I trust.
A big part of the fantasy is being overpowered and taken. It’s the complete opposite of my everyday real life where I’m always in control, always in charge and always have a say.
Plus, I like it when Brett’s rough with me and I like being somewhat powerless and vulnerable, especially when it comes to sex with him. It’s one of the things I love about being restrained when he ties me up or pins me down.
Deep down, I think a lot of women like their man to take control and just use them, take what’s already theirs and do it without contrite.
I know I do.
I give Brett a lot of power during sex. I trust him completely.
The fact that he’s not just coming out and saying what’s on his mind has me a bit worried since I’m usually up for almost anything.
Almost.
There are a few things, disgusting things, where I draw the line, but I’m pretty sure he’s right there with me. Neither of us has ever been a fan of bodily functions or fluids.
“Spill it,” I say. “Tell me what’s on your mind, or I’m going to go nuts.”
His smile is contagious, but part of me is grinning back at him because I’m nervous. Brett’s never really told me any of his fantasies, so if he’s bringing it up and is holding back, it’s gotta be something either really kinky or really bad. The two of us, for the most part, have always been able to talk about our fantasies.
“I want to show you something and see what you think,” he says.
I watch him enter his phone’s passcode and swipe to his homepage. He taps on an app that I don’t recognize and does something in it before he hands me his phone.
“Tell me what you think of this,” he passes it over to me.
I’m not quite sure what I’m looking at or what app he’s using, but I pick up on the fact that I’m looking at a photo of a threesome with a woman and two men.
“Yeah?” I ask.
I’m not quite sure what he’s expecting me to say or why he’s showing it to me. I try to hand his phone back to him, but he refuses it.
“No, scroll down and look at the other stuff,” he says, pushing my hand back toward the center of my body.
Scrolling through his phone, I see orgies, threesomes, and a picture of a woman fucking a man while a second guy sits beside them, stroking his cock as he enthusiastically watches.
“What is this, babe? What the hell am I supposed to be looking at?”
I’m so confused.
We’ve always looked at porn together. Hell, we’ve got a whole stash of dirty magazines hidden in our closet so I don’t understand why he’s so eager to show me this.
“What would you think about doing some of that stuff?” he asks.
Several years ago, we had talked about swinging but never acted on it. I don’t know what stopped us or why we never went through with it, but we never did. He’s the only man I’ve been with for years.
“We’ve talked about swinging,” I say. “Are you wanting to try it?”
He takes his phone from me and scrolls through some more of the pictures.
“Well,” he says, looking at one picture in particular. “Not exactly.”
“What does that mean? What are you trying to say because I don’t get it.”
After a few beats, he exhales a deep breath, almost like he’s mustering the courage to ask me something. His eyes close as his jaw tightens and he pulls me against his long torso, holding me close.
I can hear his heart beating, and it’s going a mile a minute. My heartbeat begins to match his as I go into high alert mode.
Something’s up.
Sitting up straight, he draws in a sharp breath of air and looks down into my eyes as I remain nestled against him.
“I don’t know any other way to say this” he begins. “Cathy, I-I want to share you.”
What did I just hear my husband say?
“Share me? What do you mean?”
I’m trying to keep an even tone in my voice as I sit up and pull the blankets around my breasts, holding the covers a little tighter than normal. What the hell has he been looking at or reading?
Share me?
What the hell does that even mean?
His time on the internet is starting to worry me.
The hesitance that’s coming from him is out of this world.
“Have you ever heard the term, ‘hotwife’?”
I repeat it in my head: hotwife. What the hell is hotwife? Is he just making random shit up?
“Brett, why do you want to share me with other men?” I ask.
“Because, Cathy, I get pleasure from giving you pleasure,” his warm breath tickles my earlobe. “And it doesn’t matter who gives it to you as long as you enjoy yourself.”
The tone of his raspy voice as he says these words gives me goosebumps all over my body.
I should be appalled, but I’m not. I should be angry, but I’m not. I should be disgusted, but I’m not.
I’m not any of those things.
I am, however, curious and intrigued.
It’s no secret that I’ve had a few crushes here and there. And it was never limited to just the guys at work. Some of my crushes have been on his friends.
The only difference is I never acted on them, and now he wants me to.
This is a complete game-changer.
Wait a minute, Cathy! This seems too good to be true. Why would he want to share you with other men? Think about this for a minute.
“Oh my God!” my mouth pops open.
“What?”
“Wait a minute!” I shake my head as though I’m trying to wra
p my brain around all this. “Are you giving me permission to sleep with other men because you want to have sex with other women?”
It would make complete sense. Why on earth or what other reason would he have to give me permission to have sex with other men?
Oh my God! What if he already has another woman?
My mind begins racing and all of a sudden, I see vivid images flashing before me.
The secrecy of his computer, the porn, the constant erasing of browser history and his kicked up sex drive.
Holy shit! It all makes sense.
My heart sinks to my stomach, into a dark void that has no bottom. I feel nauseous as I think about how naive I’ve been.
I know for a fact that I’d never leave him for another man, but would he feel that way for another woman?
“What?” his voice raises an octave as though I’ve lost my ever-loving mind. “No! Cathy, no!”
He shakes his head and chuckles to himself for a second.
“Babe, I love you. I love you so fucking much,” he cups my face in his hands as he stares into my eyes. “Listen to me for a minute.”
I sigh a breath of relief when I see the sincerity behind his honey-colored eyes. He’s not seeing another woman.
That was so foolish of me to think.
“I don’t understand, Brett. How can you share me if you love me?”
Chapter 7
The soft glow of the television illuminates the room as I stare at my husband in disbelief. This is the same man who has given me shit for even so much as glancing at another man.
And now he wants to share me with other men?
He sets his phone on the nightstand beside him and turns to face me.
“I know this might sound weird to you, but Cathy, I think you’re the sexiest woman I’ve ever laid my eyes on. You have no idea how much you turn me on, and it turns me on to watch you in the bedroom.”
“I-I don’t understand,” I shake my head. “What do you mean? Watch me in the bedroom?”
“Just that. I love watching you, babe. The way you move, the way you come, the way you sound when you come. I love all of it.”
I let this sink in for a minute as I study his face.
His words are genuine, and his eyes are twinkling with excitement. There’s no doubt he's sincere about all of this, but it’s still so surprising.
“You’re not seeing someone or looking for permission to—,” he cuts me off.
“What? Cathy, no. I don’t want anyone else. I only want you, and I want to watch you enjoy yourself.”
“Brett, I don’t get it. I mean, it sounds fun but why would you want to watch me have sex with another man?”
Don’t get me wrong; it seems like a lot of fun. But letting my husband watch me fuck other men? That just seems….wrong, weird, strange and screwed up.
It’s like cussing in front of the school principal. You’ve always wanted to do it, maybe even imagined of doing it but it’s forbidden so you’d never dream of doing it. And even though you’re an adult now and get to call all the shots, it still doesn’t feel right cussing in front of the principal, but he’s giving you permission to do it.
Out of all the times that I’ve thought about a few of the guys I work with and some of Brett’s old friends, I’d never dare think about doing it in front of him. Hell, I couldn’t even do it behind his back.
And now he wants a front row ticket to watch it all go down?
I almost want to ask him if he’s on something, drugs or some other substance but I know he’s not. He’s sincere about this and is being so open about everything.
“You look so fucking sexy when you’re cumming, Cathy. I love hearing all the noises you make and watching you get off. It would be really hot to watch another man please you.”
He moves closer to me.
“I want to listen to you make those noises for someone else and see you in different angles, making movements that I never get to see from my view when we have sex.”
“I’m confused,” I say. “Do you want to watch? Have threesomes? What? Because I’m not following you.”
Threesomes are normal. I mean, semi-normal. They’re more normal than your spouse watching you have sex with someone else. Right?
As I try to think logically about all of this, I pick up on the fact that he's silent; almost as though he’s observing me. I’m trying not to show much reaction to any of this because I don’t want him to see that I’m taken aback by it or that I’m excited as hell by it.
Because right now, I’m both of those things, but I’m also scared.
Should I admit anything to him? What would he say if he knew, I mean really knew, that I’ve wanted to fuck other men over the course of our marriage?
And what would it be like if anything were to ever happen between me, him, and another guy?
I’ve had a threesome once. Long before I met him with a friend of mine and his girlfriend, but that was different. I wasn’t the person “attached” to anyone in the relationship, I was merely a friend of the couple, and I was single at the time.
There was also another time where a girlfriend of mine and I did swapping with a couple of guys right after we graduated high school before she went away to college. That night was all sorts of crazy because we’d all been drinking pretty heavily and we were so young.
But, both times were extremely fun and extremely hot, and Brett knows about both of them.
“Sort of, I guess you could call it a threesome,” he answers. “But it’s not necessarily a threesome. I mean, it could be, but not all the time. Sometimes I might just watch, other times I might join. And sometimes I might just let you go out by yourself to have a good time as long as you promise to send me pictures and videos.”
His face is lit up like a Christmas tree!
I’m listening to him, still trying not to react, and he’s gloating like he’s just told me the best news in the world: he wants to watch and participate and have picture or video evidence of me fucking other guys.
“Wait, let’s slow down a minute. You want pictures and videos?”
Oh why, oh why would he want that? Blackmail maybe? This is getting weirder by the second.
“Yeah,” he says, his eyes still dancing in the dimly lit room. “I mean it when I say I like watching you and looking at you.”
“Brett, what’s going on here? You’ve always been so jealous, and now you’re giving me permission—no, you’re asking me to fuck other men, and you want video or pictures? You’re not going to try and divorce me and use this against me, are you?”
He laughs and pulls me tightly against him, squeezing me with a reassuring hug.
“No, babe. Fuck, Cathy. I just like watching you, and there’s nothing more that I’d love than to have my own personal porn star. The difference is I get to fuck you and have you all to myself when it’s all said and done.”
“Hmmm,” I say, pondering what he’s telling me.
His own personal porn star, huh?
That does sound cool. I never thought that I’d be hot enough to be considered porn star material. Heat begins to spread across my cheeks and travels down to my collar bone as I imagine myself starring in a video.
“And here’s the thing, Cathy,” he releases me and sits up, putting some distance between us. “Let’s be honest here. You know—I know—no, we both know you’ve thought about other guys so this really shouldn’t be too far fetched for you.”
Oh, my god! Did he just say that?
The heat on my cheeks kicks up a few levels on the Scoville scale. I can feel myself flushing uncontrollably.
But fuck, he’s got me. He’s speaking the truth, and I can’t hide it.
An uncontrollable grin tugs at the corners of my lips as I collapse on my pillows and cover my face with my blanket.
I’m so embarrassed. How do I even deny it?
I can’t. If only he knew how badly I’ve thought about other men, he might not be having this conversation with me.
The same grin that gives me away to everyone; myself, the other men, my husband.
“What?” I ask, and it’s obvious as hell I can’t wipe my stupid smile away.
“I know you’re smiling under there. Come on, babe. Talk to me. Tell me what’s going through your mind.”
“I can’t do that,” I giggle.
Part of me wants to tell him everything. Badly. It’d be nice to get it all off my chest and confess to all the dirty, sinful thoughts I’ve had.
But I’m so afraid admitting anything to him will hurt him or scare him away from this idea because, honestly, I kind of like it.
A lot.
Oh, the possibilities are swimming through my head!
Do you have any idea how many guys I could have fucked if I’d known this beforehand?
Geez, Louise! So many!
“Cathy, we’ve always been able to talk about things and communicate. Tell me what’s running through that brilliant mind of yours.”
“No, let’s start with you,” I say. “Why or how did you develop this fantasy and what made you tell me about it? I’ve got to know that this is 100% legit before we talk about this anymore. You tell me your secrets, and then I’ll tell you mine.”
A heavy sigh escapes his lungs as he grins at me.
“I don’t know. I guess I’m just fucked up in the head. There’s got to be something wrong with me, right? I see what you’re thinking. You think it’s crazy, and I believed that for the longest time but this is something I can’t stop thinking about.”
I can tell he’s going to tell me everything, so I prop myself up on my elbow as I lie next to him.
“I don’t think you’re fucked up,” I shake my head. “Everyone’s got their own kinks, and I’ll tell you the truth. It turns me on, but what made you bring this up to me?”
Yeah, it’s real fucking evident it turns me on. My panties are soaked, and my heart is racing as I think about the possibility of my husband watch another man pushing his dick inside me.
“It’s hard to say but the main reason—probably the only reason—is because I trust you. You know how shitty my past relationships were, how my ex always cheated on me—,” I cut him off.