Maybe it was because it was near my birthday. Maybe it was the time in my life. Maybe it was just time. Whatever it was, I found myself fantasizing almost daily and sometimes even more about things sexual.

Raised as a "good girl," I was the kind of person who would never imagine anyone, especially me, having thoughts such as these. I was more than a little confused and concerned. Was I becoming someone I hadn't met before? Was I losing my mind or, if not, perhaps my morals? Was I in some kind of long-delayed rebellion? Or was I becoming someone I was honestly supposed to be?

Whatever it was, these thoughts were, I had to admit, delicious and energizing, like anticipating my favorite dessert at that Italian restaurant I love where everything on the menu is fun in my mouth. These thoughts were like that, especially the part about fun in my mouth.

Not at all sure what any of this meant, I decided to see if I could work up the courage to tell my husband of ten years about this and hope he wouldn't be too shocked. I knew if I could be honest, he would probably be supportive and maybe even turned on. Having met relatively late in life, me in my forties and he in his fifties after the ends of each of our first marriages, sex was still warm and satisfying. As I thought about this, I realized the word was "warm" not "hot." "Warm" didn't fit these thoughts. No, that place at the meeting of my thighs told me something more exotic was happening there. I was almost afraid to let myself know just how hot I became. Almost. I decided that talking about this with Nic would open the door a little further. That, to my surprise, was just what I wanted. Who knows? With a little luck, this might deepen the connection between us.

Four days later, after two glasses of wine at dinner that I drank too quickly, I said, "I've been having some unusual thoughts lately."

"What do you mean?"

Relying on my liquid courage, I said more boldly than I realized I would, "I've been thinking a lot about sex."

"Really? Tell me more."

He sounded like he wanted to be supportive, but I couldn't help thinking, "How typical a response? What male who still had a pulse wouldn't say something like that?" I put that aside and, with only a slight pause, I found words tumbling out of my mouth that I never believed could have.

"I've been thinking about fucking other men. And maybe including a woman. Or two."

I rushed in to explain not understanding any of this or where these thoughts came from. I could say with all honesty that making love with him was still the best sex of my life and I wasn't unsatisfied or complaining. Even so, I couldn't deny my growing curiosity.

Before he could stop me and before I chickened out, I began telling him I sometimes fantasized about someone fucking me right after he did. As I spoke, heat began rising between my legs. I had never had a threesome and told him the idea of sucking someone's cock or someone putting a cunt in front of me while he was fucking me was becoming more and more of a nagging thought. I told him about my most persistent fantasy about having sex in a movie theater with him that led to all kinds of things with other men there. I tried to be matter-of-fact about this, but the thoughts of being fingered, exposed, felt up, and fucked caused my face to redden from equal parts of fear, embarrassment, and lust.

He was smart enough to keep his mouth shut while I described some of the details. He seemed especially attentive when I talked about my top being opened and my nipples being sucked. I told him about how loose my skirt would be. I closed my eyes when I told him about how easily it would rise so my pussy would be exposed. When I told him the part about someone kneeling in front of me to lick my pussy, I couldn't help but notice his right hand had dropped under the table. The thought of him being turned on flipped a switch in me. I could imagine how he stroked and tugged at his cock through his jeans. My mouth went dry at the thought.

"Are you getting turned on by me telling you this? You're not mad at me?"

"How could I be? I appreciate the honesty and, by the way, you look more turned on than I've seen you in years." I trusted him about both of those things.

After moving my hand into my own lap, I said, "How about moving this deep philosophical conversation up to the center of our bed and I'll tell you even more? Maybe I'll tell you some lies and we'll see if we can get Pinocchio's nose to grow."

He playfully tapped my ass all the way upstairs.

Before getting near the bed, he pulled me to him from behind but right in front of the large mirror on my dresser. He wrapped one arm around my waist and moved his left hand up to cup my right breast. His cock twitched against my ass and I started breathing harder. I ground my hips back into him to let him know that I welcomed his attention. His other hand dropped onto my crotch and he began rubbing me through my jeans. I was so horny, I quickly opened the top button of my jeans and pulled the zipper completely down. Nic knew what that meant and his hand dived inside my panties. He found my pussy soaked in anticipation. I couldn't wait for his fingertip to find my clit. When it did, the jolt took my breath away. He always knew just how to touch me. We both loved this part of our lovemaking.

When he knew he had me completely, he whispered in my ear, "You like this, don't you? You like seeing my hands in your pants and imagining people are watching us." His tone made me feel slutty and I couldn't pretend he wasn't right.

I nodded and didn't speak. Words wouldn't work to tell him how hungry I was for cocks and even pussy.

"Would you like my mouth on your pussy? Or maybe you'd like to see a woman kneeling between your legs licking you. I would play with your nipples while she did."

That thought made me even wetter. I began rocking my hips so his finger would hit my clit even harder. I reached behind and grabbed his cock. I would have done more but the sensations in my pussy wouldn't let me.

"Please make me cum."

He pushed his middle finger into me as far as he could a number of times before he brought the wetness there back up to my clit. The strokes of his expert fingertip quickened. So did my heart rate. I was gulping air into my chest. My legs began quivering.

"Would you like someone's cock in your mouth right now?"

That was enough. My pussy gushed into his hand. My cunt was thrusting and I grunted as I came. The sensation filled me and everything else disappeared. I don't know how long I came. Maybe it was a minute. Maybe it was forever.

My legs were weak as he led me to the bed. He had me lay across it with my legs dangling over the side. As quickly as possible, he undressed both me and him. With his arms propping him up, he laid on top of me. His cock entered me in one long stroke. I was in heaven. With my hips angled as they were, his cock started hitting my clit with each thrust. As sensitive as I was from my first orgasm, I was afraid I might pass out.

The thrusts of his hips took his cock as far inside me as it would go. I could feel it bumping my cervix. I grabbed his hips to pull him even further inside if I could. His pace picked up and he started to groan. I could feel him swelling inside me. Knowing he was so close to cumming gave my pussy one more reason to edge towards my second orgasm. My breathing began matching his. So did the fire inside me. All that mattered was his cock in my pussy.

He pushed into me as fast as he could. He exploded into me, groaning in sweet excess and I exploded onto him as I screamed into eternity. He collapsed onto me. I started to cry as if in a swirling sea of gratitude and love and raw pleasure. We held each other and he whispered into my ear over and over, "I love you. I love you."

I found myself thinking, "Hell. If fantasy is this good, who needs reality?" That didn't keep me from wondering, though.