Recently I started to worry that I might not be sexually adventurous enough for my husband. The other day he mentioned role-play and asked me if I had any fantasies. I told him he already knew that I got turned on wearing stockings and suspenders, and also when I put on one of my very skimpy bikinis.

He looked slightly embarrassed, as he said, "No not like that, I mean would you want to act anything out that you couldn't do for real, you know because it was immoral or dodgy. Do you fantasise about anything you can't do for real?"

Caught out by his unexpected question, I got embarrassed and afraid to admit anything. I told him I didn't know what he was talking about. He quickly dropped the subject.

It left me worried that he wanted to spring something weird on me. I had some vision of finding him in a gimp suit or telling me he was a transvestite. I knew I was being irrational and overreacting. I do feel inhibited at times.

We have always had great sex; we both have good bodies and an enthusiasm for trying lots of positions. He has never been unfaithful and that's not me being naïve. He is a very serious martial artist and almost fanatical about loyalty and honour. He has always said that if he had a problem in the marriage I would be the first to hear of it; not the last. He can't stand people who have affairs behind their partner's backs.

So I felt confident nothing was happening behind my back, but clearly, he had something he wanted to talk about, and next time it came up I decided I would be ready to talk about it.

I also felt confident in his fidelity because he never stops telling me how incredibly attractive I am. He is not much of an actor and I don't think he would do it quite so much if he didn't mean it. Only the other day he was telling me yet again how much he loves my bum. That's hardly the talk of someone who is getting bored of me.

Although I'm a bit shy and not overconfident; when I see myself in the mirror I can appreciate that I look pretty hot in nice underwear or completely naked. I have a very slim petite build, slim waist, flat stomach, pert D cup breasts, and a toned bum.

A few years ago my husband persuaded me to completely shave my pussy, and even though I told myself I was doing it for him, I found it quite a turn-on.

As soon as I was shaven, I quickly saw the benefits. He started going down on me a lot more often and it was very arousing to see his tongue working on my bare pussy with the view unobstructed. Also when he penetrated me I really enjoyed seeing his hard shaft sliding in and out of my naked hole.

So I did things like shaving myself for him, wearing clothes I knew he liked, and of course plenty of skimpy underwear. In the summer I wore tiny skirts or very low-cut jeans, which he really enjoyed. On the occasions when we went out for the evening, I dressed up in sexy clingy dresses for him. Sometimes with absolutely no underwear and other times with the tops of my stockings showing because my dress was so short. All of these things turned me on knowing how much they pleased him and we had a great sex life overall.

In the end, the subject didn't quite come up the way I expected it to. I have always had a volatile relationship with my family, my older brother especially. Over the years there have been arguments and occasional periods of estrangement.

Whenever these things came up, my husband was always a supportive partner and a very good person to talk to. When I first met him I told him I was damaged goods and all credit to him he turned out to be the best counsellor I could have had. Over the years his understanding of psychology and generally good common sense has really helped me deal with my own issues.

After one particular fracas, we were discussing why my brother treats me the way he does. He is three years older and had always been negative towards me. I was telling my husband about how he had always put me down when we were younger, especially making my life difficult when I hit eighteen. He would complain to my parents that I dressed like a tart. He would get angry and tell me to cover myself up if I was wearing something even slightly revealing. I never understood why it bothered him so much; what was it to him what I did? I did not interfere in his life.

My husband pointed out that it can be very difficult for a male to see his sister also being an attractive female. It tears their feelings because on the one hand you're their sister and they shouldn't have any thoughts about you, but on the other hand, they see a female body that is attractive.

My husband suggested that my brother saw my physique in sexy clothes and underwear. He didn't know how to reconcile the sexual feelings that it aroused with the fact I was his sister.

In the years since then, he suggested my brother had not been able to shake off his sexual thoughts about me. He had noticed that my brother often watched me in a furtive manner.

My husband seemed to know a lot about this and it occurred to me that he has a younger sister himself. I asked him if this was something that had happened to him too, and he told me it was only natural that he did, but it was only in his head, he had never done anything immoral.

I felt very uncomfortable with the conversation as well as the whole subject that we were getting into. So again, I changed the subject.

It was not until the next day when I was on my own at home that I got time to reflect on it. I work from home so when my husband is at work I have the place to myself.

The first time I got a quiet moment after that conversation to reflect on it I realised I felt quite shocked. What my husband was talking about was incest. Surely that was a terrible thing and I worried that there must be something terribly wrong with both my husband and my brother's morals.

Yet I felt naïve that it had never occurred to me before. When I was single I got a fair amount of male attention and, truth be told, some female attention too. Despite my confidence issues, I wasn't so thick that I didn't notice it. Now I was feeling slightly stupid that I never once spotted it from my brother.

As I reflected on it, incidents from when we shared a flat for a few years suddenly became more significant. Thinking of my brother's possible sexual thoughts about me, many things started to make immediate sense.

Things like; my knickers would go missing and turn up on the floor in his room. At the time I just guessed it had fallen out of the laundry basket as he went collecting dirty clothes around the house.

There had been times when I had been masturbating in my room and would stop, thinking I heard a noise at the door. It never occurred to me my brother might be listening or even looking. Our interior doors had large old-fashioned keyholes in them. Had he spied on me through them?

As I thought of these issues, I found myself torn between moral outrage and another more surprising feeling.

I was feeling turned on.

I thought about one summer when I was about eighteen. I had been sunbathing in my parent's secluded garden in a bikini while they were at work and my brother who had moved out; already lived elsewhere. Being eighteen and in a particularly small bikini in the warm sunshine, I had been feeling a little bit sexy. With no one around, I had started stroking myself, imagining how sexy I might look and fantasising that some hunk would be finding me attractive.

I had pushed the string ties on my hips as low as I could so the tiny triangle at the front all but disappeared, with the top of it only just covering the top of my clit. My shaven mound was completely uncovered and looked slightly paler than the skin just above it. I imagined the sight I was making for that imaginary onlooker.

I started to lightly touch my breasts and my pussy through the fabric of my bikini. Sliding the tips of my fingers against the crease of the fabric where it covered my pussy. The edges of my labia tingled at the sensation of the nylon against them.

I was also teasing my visibly erect nipples through the bikini top, circling my nails around the areola before pulling the inner edges of the triangles to the sides to uncover my breasts completely. The feeling of exposing my breasts for the first time heightened my arousal.

My other hand slid back down the smooth skin of my belly and pubic mound and back onto my barely covered virgin pussy. I stroked my now hard little clit through the thin nylon fabric.

These touches got gradually fuller on before I could not resist any longer and pulled my bikini to one side so I could expose my now wet lips to the air. My fingertips were by now a blur as I masturbated like crazy until I had a series of very powerful orgasms.

As I lay there gradually coming back to myself, slowly writhing in my post-orgasmic bliss, I remember getting a brief shock thinking something had moved at my brother's bedroom window. I quickly got my bikini back into place and lay there feeling terror that I might have been seen.

However, I was quickly relieved when I heard the front door slam and my brother's voice shouting, "only me". At the time in my naiveté, I had thought; thank god for that, how close had I been to being caught. Only now did it occur to me that he could have spied on me that day and then faked his noisy arrival.

I was feeling terrifically torn. On the one hand, thinking of my brother looking at me that way was shocking and wrong. Yet despite all that thinking about it was making me feel terrifically turned on.

I felt upset at what he had done and almost as upset that this had left me feeling aroused too. Also thinking about my husband's admission that he had sexual thoughts about his sister should have left me feeling outraged at his immoral behaviour. Nevertheless, it did not; it also made me feel horny.

What was the world coming to? Here I was feeling an urgent need to do something for quite inappropriate reasons.

I lay on the spare bed and slowly undid the short zipper on my low-cut jeans and pushed them down my shapely thighs. My need was stronger than the upset. I took off my top and lay back on the bed in my lacy bra and tiny thong. Lightly I circled a finger over the tiny see-through triangle of nylon where my clit was hidden beneath. Feeling the texture of the gauzy material against my sensitive button was making it throb like crazy. This increased as it got harder and lifted from its little hood.

I slid the thong down until it joined my jeans bunched around my knees. I rested the palm of my hand on my smooth mound and let my fingertips rest on my already moist pussy, lightly fingering my throbbing slit. I worked my jeans and knickers further down to my ankles, by moving my legs, so I could part my legs at the knee and started to run my fingers along my flowering sex.

My labia tingled as I stroked the engorged flesh. I could not remember the last time I felt so wet. Gradually my fingering increased in energy until quite soon I was feverishly rubbing my firm clit and grinding my hips upward to meet my hand.

In my mind's eye, I was being watched by my brother who stood at the foot of the bed. Not only was he watching, but also he had an intense look on his face. I watched as he unbuttoned his jeans and opened them exposing some tight briefs stretched over something rigid; rigid for me.

As I watched, his fingertips lightly stroked along the cotton-encased shaft then moved up to the waistband. They lingered there for a second then slid inside to grasp his hard cock and simultaneously push the briefs down at the front with the back of his hand. Now he stood stroking himself with his pants and jeans around his thighs; masturbating as he watched me do the same.

My hips were rising off the bed as I vigorously stroked myself in the throes of my huge arousal. I briefly stopped to free my breasts from the half cups of my skimpy bra. While one hand went back to my red-hot pussy the other cupped my firm breasts, fingered, and rolled my erect nipples.

In my mind's eye, I could see my tall blond brother stroking his large erection and aiming it at me as he came. I saw him shooting over me and at the thought of it, I climaxed powerfully. My belly was convulsing with the power of the orgasms. For long moments, I could not stop grinding my hips upwards into my hand.

I lay there panting my fingers just lightly touching my tingly wet pussy. A feeling of horror started to return. What had I become? Was I some kind of perverted weirdo to get off on that? Was it ok if it was only in my mind? Did that make it alright? The feelings were just too good to turn my back on. I didn't believe in God, so if no one knew who did it harm? Who could judge if it was my secret fantasy? It didn't do any harm at all to have this fantasy I decided.

I lay on the bed and wondered what my brother actually looked like naked. He wasn't especially good-looking. We were chalk and cheese as siblings. Where I was a petite brunette, he was a tall blond guy with quite a lean frame. I had seen him changing once so had a memory of a fairly large penis surrounded by a halo of blond hair. At the time, it had been hanging flaccid, but I could imagine that at full mast it must be quite large.

Just thinking this I realised I was stroking my pussy more vigorously again and it didn't take very long before I came again. I dressed and decided I had better try to put this out of my mind for a while.

Whatever I did though, it would not leave my mind. Whenever I had a moment on my own I found myself imagining him spying on me. In the shower, in particular, I fantasised that I was back in the flat we shared years ago and he was watching my naked form through a spyhole.

Sure enough, I would be frigging like mad until I came. I also found myself wondering about my husband's thoughts on his sister. Call it double standards, but I found myself worrying if he still ever had such thoughts about his sister.

On one occasion we were coiled together naked after sex and my husband got to talking about our fantasies again. Or rather, he was trying to prise some out of me. I still did not feel too confident about saying anything that I might come to regret. My new, and very taboo, fantasy lurked at the back of my mind. Half of me wanted to mention it and the other was terrified of his probable reaction.

We were lying side by side casually stroking each other's naked bodies when he asked me if I had ever fantasised about things that I wouldn't necessarily want to do, or even that might be morally wrong.

He asked these questions carefully; probably worried I would get defensive again. Maybe he feared I would turn the tables and say something like, "Why? What immoral thing have you been fantasising about?"

However, at this moment I was feeling quite relaxed and had that chilled feeling you get when you have just had quite a few powerful orgasms.

My husband really did do a good job on that front, he particularly could not get enough of going down on me. He usually gave me a few orgasms with his mouth before he even started penetrating me. He liked to start with me as I lay on my back. He would eat me so sensuously and with such hunger that it did not take me long to hit my first orgasm. Then, my favourite, he would lie on his back and get me to ride his face holding onto the headboard, this one never failed to be explosive for me.

If that was not enough, he usually had the stamina, once he finally gave in to my demands to put his lovely cock inside me, to give me many more orgasms in various positions. Only when I thought I could take no more would he finally have his own powerful release.

On this night in particular he had surpassed himself and I was in a daze. I lost all track of how many times I had an orgasm as they merged into one almost continual high. So when he asked me if I had ever fantasised about doing anything immoral, on this occasion, my defences were pretty low.

I idly stroked his softening cock as I said, "Maybe." He perked up at that, not expecting such a reply. It was what he had hoped for, but did not really...