Author's note#
This is the second story in a series telling of the rewards available to adventurous couples willing to share and play out their most erotic sexual fantasies.
In this tale my couple delve into the wild world of dogging.
*****
I hope I'm right in saying this, but each of us has a sexual preference. One unique way of achieving that dreamt of, mythically perfect and long lasting ecstatic orgasm.
With me it was a hand-job.
Nothing else quite did it.
Not self masturbation.
But laying on my back while a skilled woman, a master craftswoman, takes control of my cock and over twenty minutes or so, works me up to that magical point of no return. I honestly preferred it to a normal fuck.
My wife, (Debs) on the other hand (unintended pun) gets off riding on top of me. Or at least she did until the day we agreed to discuss our personal sexual nirvanas.
But let's not move on too soon.
Let me tell you about Debs, or to give her her full names, Deborah Susan Brown.
She had just had her traumatic thirtieth birthday and was an art teacher at the local girls school.
Debs is average height for a woman, slim with distinctive auburn hair. And attractive, but in a warm, cuddly girl-next- door sort of a way.
Sadly she preferred to hide her looks and figure by dressing like a 1960s hippie, with floor length skirts, denim tops, flat shoes and John Lennon rose-tinted glasses.
Debs never wore makeup at work.
This way she came across as homely, rather than sexy.
O'h yes, and I'm a maths teacher at the same school and we meet in the staff room for lunch and morning break.
And we'd been happily married for nearly six years.
Neither of us wants children.
So back to the story.
It all began one Sunday afternoon when we were wiling away an idle couple of hours pleasuring each other on our bed.
I had set up my laptop computer on her dressing table and she was learning a few new moves from a DVD called, 'Amazing hand-job techniques'.
I was the lucky guy rating her new skills.
Debs had always given me exciting hand-jobs which only very seldom failed to produce a cum-gusher ejaculation.
I was on a high, relishing her new moves and trying to conjure up fresh mental images that would trigger the point of no return.
"Debs?" I said in passing, "do you ever fantasise about jerking off other guys?"
"I sometimes wonder what it would be like," she said, concentrating both hands on the head of my cock.
"Wonder about what in particular?" I pressed her.
"Other men's cocks, what it would feel like to hold them, you know, big ones, black ones. But it's only a fantasy. I'd never actually do it."
"And do you dream of riding these guy's cocks? I asked.
"We're talking about fantasies here right? Not actually going out there and doing it?"
"Fantasies, of course!" I reassured her, but I was secretly fascinated to hear what she had to say.
'Well," she began, "don't blame me if you hear something you don't want to hear."
"Don't worry Debs," I said, "I'm getting harder just waiting."
"My main fantasy, the one I imagine when I'm riding you, is me on top of a huge black cock with several other men waiting for me to fuck them. They've all got their cocks our ready Then I fuck them all - everyone of them bareback and coming inside me!"
"I never imagined anything like that Debs," I said with a whistle that I really meant, 'Wow!'
"It's just what I fantasise when I want to come," she added.
"And do you take it anally for these fantasy guys, blow them and stuff?" I said.
"Dear god no!" she exclaimed, "I just want to fuck them, nothing else. I think the stink of their unwashed cocks would put me off blowing them! Anyway you know I don't do that."
And I did. No matter how many times I asked or how drunk she was, she had never given me a blow-job.
The room was quiet for a while as we both thought about what we had just said.
Then I added, "Would you ride another guy - a stranger, if I was there to watch and protect you?"
Debs stopped stroking my cock and looked up at me quizzically.
"For real you mean?" She said.
I nodded.
