Story: Dying From Anticipation

The bathroom door closed, and I found myself trembling with eagerness. I was still swimming in her teasing words: “Wait right here, and I’ll bring you your greatest fantasy.”

Oh God, oh God. What has she guessed? What has she seen in my eyes when we touch? Does she realize the things I’ve kept to myself, the intimate touches I’ve never dared consider?

Will she tie me up? Strap me down harshly with rough leather cords? Do as she likes while I lie powerless beneath her? Will she abuse me?
Will she be a demanding teacher, a playful babysitter, a stern boss, a threatening cop?

Will she penetrate me, sinking deeper than anyone’s ever gone, until she fills me and makes me whole?

Or maybe… maybe she brought someone else home.

Maybe she’s ready to share me with a trusted friend or intimate coworker. She could have another woman in there, waiting to come out, drawing out the ragged anticipation.

Or another man.

Was I ready for that? Was I open to another man helping me touch her, partnering with me to bring her to heights I couldn’t manage by myself?

Was I ready for another man to touch me?

Or could it be… no, that’s not possible. She couldn’t possibly have seen the way I look at her sister. My deepest, guiltiest secret, to desire them together in a loving embrace. Her sister! Oh, most perfect wife, trusting and loving me enough to share your luscious younger sister! I love you my darling!
The bathroom door opened. I cried out, “Yes! Let me fuck your sister now!”
My wife stood there wearing a blonde wig, red fishnet stockings, and a startled expression that was rapidly sinking into explosive fury.
I think maybe I guessed wrong…

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