You might remember a movie from years ago. In that film, childhood friends meet up once a year to rekindle their feelings for each other. After that weekend, they return to their spouses and their regular lives until the next year when they meet again. Our situation isn’t about sneaking away to meet someone else. But it’s something that happens only once a year, fulfilling two different fantasies that started separately.
For my wife, Emma, it was her dream to reconnect with an old university lover. For me, James, it was the fantasy of being a humiliated cuckold. Combining those dreams creates an incredible weekend that gives us a year’s worth of memories until we do it again. It started after we’d been married for about seven years. Some call it the seven-year itch. For us, it was the routine that almost got to us. The sex was fine, but it lacked the excitement of a new relationship. I was always more adventurous than her, and it took some convincing to get her to try role-playing and talk about fantasies, which spiced things up.
For me, the fantasy was seeing her in sexy outfits. Short skirts paired with nylon stockings and high heels always got me going. Once she realized how excited I got when she wore a garter belt with old-fashioned stockings or thigh-highs without panties, she started doing it often. I should also mention that at 38, Emma is ten years younger than me. She’s petite with perfect, perky breasts and amazing legs. She always loved wearing short skirts and knows exactly how to “work it” to turn heads. It still gives me a thrill to see men stare at her, knowing she’s coming home with me.
She’s a real beauty, so her hair and makeup are always on point, and she loves the admiring looks from men. After a while, I started fantasizing, like many guys, about watching her with another man. We’d lie in bed after a night out, her in stockings, heels, and nothing else, rubbing her leg against my thigh. She’d play with me while I fantasized out loud about watching her with another man. Those fantasies grew into not just watching, but letting her take control and making me watch her please someone else. She became a master at keeping me on edge for an hour, stopping just before I’d finish. She’d repeat it, sometimes bringing me to the edge eight or ten times. The buildup and stories led to an indescribable climax for me.
After a while, she got fantastic at adding to the stories. The theme was often the same. We’d be in a bar, she’d spot a handsome guy and approach him, explaining that I hadn’t satisfied her the night before. As punishment, I’d have to watch her get taken by a “real man.” In other stories, she’d humiliate me further by making me approach the guy and invite him to our table. But these were just fantasies—until one night. We were playing our game. When I walked in, she was wearing a short brown skirt and a sheer blouse that showed her hard nipples.
When she sat down, I could see the tops of her stockings, and she wore the sexiest 10-cm stilettos. I was instantly turned on, and before I knew it, we were in bed, her hands slick, teasing me to the edge. During one of our fantasy stories, she asked how badly I wanted it to become real. In the past, she’d always hesitated about acting on it, but something was different that night. She was already so aroused that I’d have agreed to almost anything. Then she hit me with it. If I really wanted it, she was ready, but on her terms. Once I said yes, there was no turning back.
She knew I had no choice. She’d already brought me close to climax six times. I was ready to burst, and when I’m that turned on, I have no willpower to say no. So I told her I was ready for anything she could dream up. She kept teasing me, letting me kiss her breasts. When I begged to finish, she revealed her plan. Her ultimate fantasy was reconnecting with her college boyfriend, Liam. She described how rugged he was, with a great body, confidence, and a huge package. Over the years, I’d brought her to many climaxes by playing with her while she fantasized about him. It felt safe for me because he lived across the country. It was hot hearing her talk about meeting him in a hotel and getting taken by him. Now, she said, we could combine our fantasies. Liam was coming to our city for business and had called to check in. They hadn’t spoken in years, but he got her number from an old college friend she still talks to.
She told me it was time to put up or shut up. Live out the fantasies we’d talked about for over a year, or stop talking about them. She described meeting him while I watched, explaining she was determined to sleep with him while forcing me to watch and do as I was told. It was too much. I said yes as she brought me to the most explosive climax I could remember. Now there was no going back. She knew she could convince me. After I finished and was cleaning up, she told me he’d be in town next weekend and would be our guest. It was a long week.
She teased me almost every night, using her nylon-covered feet to edge me but not letting me finish. She dressed sexy for work each day, saying she was getting ready for the weekend. By Friday, I couldn’t wait to get home. Liam was flying in that night, and we’d pick him up at the airport. His flight landed on time at 7:05 PM, and when he walked to baggage claim, I understood why she was so excited. Like Emma, he was ten years younger than me. He looked like he could’ve just graduated from college—tall, handsome, and clearly well-built.
They greeted each other with a big hug and a kiss, then she introduced me. I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. Right there, she told him she was in charge of our relationship and that I was willing to do anything to let them enjoy each other during his short visit. As we walked to the car, she told me to drive while they sat in the back. I already felt humbled when she ordered me to open the door. She slid into the backseat, her skirt riding up to show the tops of her stockings. He got in beside her. I closed the door and got in the driver’s seat, feeling like their chauffeur.
The 20-minute drive home was long enough for her to tell him she was the sexual boss in our relationship. In our fantasies, I’d loved the idea of this kind of humiliation. Now it was real, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure how I felt. When she told him she loved me but wasn’t satisfied with my size, I blushed. When she said she missed his huge package, my cheeks burned hotter, but I also noticed I was getting turned on.
