California Fantasy #1

This is one version of a fantasy I’ve been entertaining since I visited some friends in California last summer.

I am visiting married friends in California. Let’s just call them Brian and Kristina, for this little fantasy. He’s good-looking in an ordinary-guy kind of way, and she’s voluptuous Italiana. Curvy. He reminds me of windswept surfer (I don’t think he surfs) and she’s earthy, bold, and can be a little crass.

I’ve been good friends with Kristina since high school, and I used to tell her everything that came into my horny adolescent mind. Every fantasy even. We were the kind of close that can share any thought without judgment, even the ones that seem to scandalous to even think.

I’m attracted to her husband, and I decide to tell her as much. She’s never been the jealous type, and I feel more honest just being frank about my feelings. Kristina accepts this information with a morbid curiosity. She peppers me with intimate questions, such as whether I’ve gotten myself off while thinking about Brian (the answer is yes) and the details of those fantasies. I tell her everything she wants to know, as openly as I can.

“Well, no reason why you can’t get a show while you’re here,” she says.

Kristina calls Brian into the living room, and with no explanation she gives him a command: “Strip down to your underwear.”

He doesn’t hesitate even for a second, and like a dutiful husband he peels off shirt and jeans and soon stands in just his boxer briefs.

“Do you want to see more?” she says.

“Yes, please.”

She makes a downward swiping gesture and he takes off his underwear. His cock bounces free. It’s stiff and he seems utterly casual about his erection. I admire his confidence. Perhaps he’s done this before?

“Let’s play a game,” Kristina says.

“What sort of game?” I reply.

“You may do anything you want to him for exactly three minutes. After that, I get to order him to do anything I want to you for three minutes. Do you want to play?”

I agree. I’m excited and nervous.

“Anything?” I say.


I don’t want to seem selfish, so I offer to suck his cock. Kristina sits on the couch and times us while I go down, sucking him and making him moan. He’s a good size for blowjobs, filling but not uncomfortably big. He gives me a big smile and pets my hair while I suck him. I like the way his crotch smells: clean but strongly male. His thick tip is slick and smooth on my tongue, the slippery taste of him electrifyingly different from my husband.

Kristina watches me sucking her husband’s cock. She lifts her skirt, pulls down her panties (pink! cute!) and plunges fingers into her pussy. Her pussy… I’ve never seen it before. She’s trimmed her dark patch; her folds are luxurious. I have the sudden urge to go down on her, too, but my three minutes are up.

Then it’s Brian’s turn to do whatever he wants to me. Or to do whatever his wife wants him to do to me. I’m surprised by her command.

“Honey, why don’t you finger her asshole?”

Oh. My. Going right for my most exclusive hole, I guess! It’s gutsy and pure Kristina. She was always my friend I could count on for the shock value.

He bends me over the couch and pulls my khaki capris down. I feel like I’m about to get a spanking. He lubes his finger and puts it in my ass. I like anal play, and this is a huge turn-on for me. What we’re doing isn’t exactly foreplay, it feels more like a dare. I’m letting my best friend’s husband finger my ass on a dare.

Bent over, taking his finger like a pro, I glance at Kristina. She’s all wet, her fingers dipping in and out of her pink furrow. She’s got a hungry look on her face. I think of all three of us, she’s the one having the most fun. Brian and I are just her personal playthings to help her get off.

Well, I’m happy to give her an erotic boost.

The three minutes are up. I’m not sure if I should pull my pants up or take them off. I expect another round, and I’ve already decided (with great excitement) that I’m going to smother him with my pussy for three minutes next. It seems like a good comeback after being fingered in the ass. But we’re not doing another round. Kristina stands and straightens her dress.

“Clothes on,” she says. “We’re going to dinner.” She leaves her pink panties in a pile on the floor.

“Now?” I say incredulously, khakis around my ankles, asshole still wet and warm from Brian’s finger.

“You heard me,” she says.

I’m so horny in the restaurant that I think I might burst. It’s pure torture. I just want to hump something, or rub up on something, or take off my clothes and run naked down the street. I do none of those things, but I’m at peak juiciness the entire time.

Conversation is difficult for me in my aroused state. We wind up talking about sex, of course, it was inevitable. Brian and Kristina quiz me on what I’ve done and what I haven’t. I engage eagerly, telling them more information than they ever needed to know. Somehow, I manage to divulge that I was in a porn movie one summer during college, a very budget-basement arrangement. This is something I’ve not told anyone other than my husband. They’re fascinated and thrilled. Against my feeble protests, they find the grainy video on Pornhub. At our table, huddled over a silenced phone, they watch a much younger me being fucked by an odd, older man.

I’m flushed with embarrassment, but it also feels liberating to get that secret into the open, and it’s arousing to watch my friend’s rapt expressions as they huddle over the video. We get some glances from other patrons, and I’m afraid we’re going to get complaints, but I guess we’re not really disturbing anyone.

When we get home, my friends put the video up on their big screen. There I am. Young. Stripped bare. Wet as hell, servicing a very average man with the enthusiasm of youth. I’m hot. My tits are hot. It’s weird, it’s almost like it’s not me on screen. That cute girl was me.

I undress, and we start to get busy while watching the action on the grainy VHS-quality video. We follow the video like a guidebook. When I go down in the video, I go down in real life. His cock in my mouth reminds me of that cock twenty years ago, except the now-cock is way better than the then-cock. When I’m doing doggy-style in the video, we do doggy style on the couch, Brian fucking me from behind — it’s all just the same. Even the sounds of my slapping, wet cunt are the same. My moans are like a fuller echo of my young, lustful self.

Kristina watches us fuck, her eyes darting between the video of me fucking and me literally fucking her husband. The whole time we’re screwing, she’s dipping her fingers into her hole. As things build to a finish, she switches to rubbing her clit. The wet sounds of her rubbing her cunt blend with the slippery noises of Brian plumbing me.

At the end, I kneel just like I did in the video, and Brian deposits his cum on my face. Several splashes, and then a slow finish on my pursed lips. An impressive load. Kristina applauds as if we’ve just completed a show for her enjoyment. I’m given a towel, just like in the video.

But I haven’t had an orgasm yet. Kristina goes down on me, her tongue bathing my folds with pleasure. Brian offers me his semi-limp cock and I suckle on it, tasting my own juices on his penis. The video repeats, and there I am again, undressing on the screen. I come with a shuddering, exquisite intensity in real life while watching the porn guy start to finger my eager young cunt.

When it’s all done we have ice cream and watch HGTV as if nothing unusual has just happened. Before bed, I call my husband and tell him exactly what happened in excruciating detail, helping him whack off to the juicy details of how another man fucked me and my best friend made me come. More than anything, I’m satisfied by my husband’s groan through the phone as he relieves himself across his belly.

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