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Archive name: husband1.txt (Mdom/FM, swingers)
Authors name: Alcibade (Address Defunct)
Story title : Husband - Part 1

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-= This work is copyrighted to the author (c) 1995. =-
Please do not remove the author information or make
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HUSBAND (Part 1)
By Alcibade

**

My name is Linda, and my husband Peter and I had a 
kinky sexual adventure a little while ago. Peter, my 
husband, lost a game of scrabble and had to anty up by 
agreeing to let me act out any fantasy I wanted. Ever 
gracious, I agreed to let him have a turn too. (If you 
don't play fair occasionally, they get so EXCITED. It's 
like there are thousands of these little tiny scales 
that need to be balanced every minute of every day, and 
if one isn't, my god, the male ego simply goes 
bananas!)

Well, Peter got what he wanted. In retrospect, I 
think he got a whole lot more than he wanted. He's been 
a good sport about it, though, and I think he's 
recovered from the experience. One of the many reasons 
that I married him was because of his openness to new 
things, and his willingness to keep learning and 
growing throughout life.

About a week after enacting my fantasy, on a Saturday
afternoon, we were returning home, via a long sight-
seeing detour, from shopping for some new backpacking
equipment. Along a deserted stretch of winding, hilly
road, Peter suddenly pulled off next to a stand of 
large pine trees. He put the car in park and turned 
to look at me.

"Is something wrong?" I asked.

His blue eyes were sparkling. I knew the look. It 
meant he was terribly excited about something, was 
having a hard time expressing it, but had finally 
found the intestinal fortitude to speak his mind.

"No, no. Nothing's wrong, Linda." His right hand 
dropped to my leg and began to distractedly toy with 
the hem of my skirt, and to scratch gently at my 
nylons. He looked out over my shoulder into the 
distance. "I've decided what I want. For my fantasy,
I mean."

There was silence for a few moments.

"It's okay. You can tell me," I prompted him.

He took a deep breath and looked back at me. Peter 
is a handsome man and very sexy. I've always been 
attracted to the "intellectual" type. I suppose they 
remind me of my father, who taught at the university 
level for many years. Throughout my high-school and 
college years, I had a tendency to throw myself at 
these kinds of men, men who had some depth below the 
surface, but whose surface god or nature chose to 
create as something less than perfect. I've been told 
I'm very attractive, and I suppose I am. So when these 
young men found themselves in my arms, their 
"gratitude," and sometimes even, I think, amazement 
that someone like me would find them attractive, 
manifested itself in ways that only complicated matters 
and usually drove me away.

I guess it's a question of personal confidence. I 
know firsthand, of course, the problems that women face 
in a world that puts such premiums on looks and on 
unimportant surface things. I have no doubt that men, 
too, struggle with this. It's regrettable that so many 
men with beautiful and deep souls are often lonely 
because the world has made it so difficult for them to 
acquire enough confidence in themselves to make them 
truly attractive to another person. So when someone 
like me approaches them, even sleeps with them, self-
doubts keep them from opening up or, even worse, make 
them cling to and stifle the other person for fear of 
losing something they feel they might never find again.

When I found Peter my senior year in graduate 
school, though, everything clicked. Good conversation 
at a meaningful level (not just football and basketball 
statistics), a sharp sense of humor, hot sex, fun 
times, you name it. And he's good-looking to boot (he 
does look like a college professor. The daddy-syndrome 
strikes again). He's tall (6'2") and lanky, and reminds 
me of a cowboy. While he's very masculine, he has a 
strong feminine side that he would deny. His movements 
are graceful and self-assured. Blonde hair, gorgeous 
blue eyes, well-trimmed beard (I LOVE beards, 
especially when they're where they belong, tickling the 
insides of my thighs and crotch), hairy chest, long 
sexy fingers with well-trimmed nails, tight little 
buns, and a perfectly sized, proud cock capped with the 
cutest glans you ever saw. (I remember, the first time 
we made love, that he even called it a "cock." Women, 
watch out for men who call it their "dick!")

Peter reached over and killed the engine. He took a 
deep breath and finally started talking.

"I've been doing a lot of thinking about your 
fantasy. I guess I've been struggling to understand and 
come to terms with why I get so excited by the idea of 
you with other men."

I nodded and took his hand. He took a second breath 
and went on.

"This is hard to say. Years of macho upbringing and 
all.... Anyway, part of the turn on was the idea that, 
by giving you up to someone else, I'd become submissive 
to you and to the other man. Look, I know we've played 
around with our ropes and the handcuffs and things, 
but.... well, I've always been the one in control, 
Linda. In my family, you know I was the oldest when my 
father died. I was in control then; I felt I had to be. 
I've been in control in our sex life, I'm in control at 
work, I'm always "in control." Don't get me wrong. I 
enjoy it very much. There's a part of me that's so damn 
competitive..... I've never given that up, or thought 
of giving it up."

"I guess what I'm saying is that I'd like to explore 
my submissive side a little more. I mean, I don't think 
I'll ever want to make it a permanent part of my life. 
But I'm fascinated now, at least since your fantasy, 
with that part of sexuality."

As he spoke, his eyes had wandered down to our hands 
resting in his lap.

"You want me to be dominant? To take control? I can 
do that, darling."

"Yes. Or rather yes and no," he said. He pulled his 
hands away and started the engine. "Look, I'm expecting 
a phone call in a few hours and we have to be there. 
I'll tell you more on the way home." He was so excited 
he could hardly sit still in his seat.

As we drove, Peter told me more. The phone call was 
to be from a man, a stranger. I was to answer the 
phone. At the point at which I picked up the phone, 
Peter's fantasy would begin.

He was speaking in choppy sentences, and hurrying 
his words. I noticed he was shivering. I've never seen 
him so nervous before, even when he talks, on occasion, 
before large audiences.

He told me that I was to do whatever was asked of me 
by the man. That I would submit totally to this man. 
That Peter trusted this man. And that Peter, in turn, 
would submit totally to the two of us.

Finally, he told me that this fantasy was going to 
be much more complex, involved, and prolonged than mine 
had been.

"Think you're up to it, sweetheart?" he asked.

I didn't hesitate.

"Yes." I looked over at him and put my hand on his 
warm shoulder. "I'll do anything you or he asks. I love 
you, Peter. I've promised you this and, if this is what 
you want, I'll make it good for you. This IS what you 
want? Are you absolutely sure about it?"

He nodded and smiled. "Yes. I've thought it all out 
and it's what I want." There was a brief pause. "At 
least I think so...."

He turned and gave me a shit-eating grin. I hit him 
on the shoulder. HARD.


 XXX

We were both in the den, I was reading and Peter was 
sitting on the floor fooling around with his new toy we 
had just purchased, a Swiss-made camp stove for high-
altitude hiking, when the phone rang. He looked at me, 
raised his eyebrows and pointed to the kitchen phone. I 
put my book down and quickly made my way into the 
kitchen. My heart was racing and my throat suddenly 
dry. I counted to 5 to calm myself, then picked up the 
phone.

"Hello?"

There was an unnerving silence. I waited, tapping my 
toe. Just as I was about to hang up, he spoke.

"Who is this?" he asked.

I almost asked him who the hell HE was, but I just 
barely caught myself and bit my tongue.

"This is Linda. May I ask who's calling?"

"You're husband told you I would be calling. He did 
talk to you, didn't he, Linda? What did he tell you?"

The voice was smooth and almost unnaturally 
modulated, like a well-trained actor's.

"He told me a little bit. I really don't know that 
much. What was he supposed to tell me?"

There was more of that unnerving silence. I got the 
strange feeling that he could almost see me through the 
phone and was sizing me up somehow. A shiver ran down 
my back.

"Tell me EXACTLY what he told you, Linda. And be 
polite to me when you speak. I'm being polite to you."

I rolled my eyes. I was getting fed up with his tone 
already. I let out a long sigh and told him exactly 
what Peter had said.

Softly: "Yes. I see. I see. Where are you, Linda?"

What did he mean, 'where are you?' In relation to 
what? I shifted the phone to my other ear, ran my hand 
up over my forehead and into my hair and held it out 
and away from the back of my head.

"Look," I began. "I'm trying to cooperate here, but 
I don't see what the fuck...."

When the voice interrupted me, it came with the 
power and clarity of a 6-foot church bell laid flush 
against my ear. I had never heard anything like it in 
my entire life. It wasn't "loud," just pure and 
resonating with potential....what?  I could feel it in 
the marrow of my bones.

"JUST TELL ME WHERE YOU'RE STANDING. Describe it to 
me simply and clearly. Do it now."

I answered immediately, fighting to keep my voice 
steady.

"I'm standing in the middle of our kitchen next to 
the phone which is attached to the food-prep island."

  Silky smooth now, like the gentle caress of a 
lullaby:

"Yes. That's better. And where is Peter?"

I turned and looked through the dining room and into 
Peter's den. I could see that he was still sitting on 
the floor and tinkering with the new camp-stove. He 
looked up briefly and tilted his head in a questioning 
gesture. I frowned and shook my head. He looked back 
down.

"Sitting on the floor in our den."

"Linda, describe to me what you are wearing. Be 
specific and leave nothing out."

My ears started to burn just slightly. "I'm wearing 
a gray sweatshirt that says "St. John's College, 
Annapolis," blue jeans with no belt, white sox, a pair 
of white underpants, a wristwatch and my wedding ring."

"No bra?"

"No."

"Can your husband see you from where you stand?"

I looked up again at Peter.

"Yes."

"Take the sweatshirt off."

"Take it off?" I asked stupidly.

"I know you heard me, Linda. And believe me, when I 
tell you something, I mean it. Don't ever repeat 
anything I've said as if I might be mistaken. When 
you've done as I've told you, turn and face your 
husband."

I set the phone down and pulled off the sweatshirt, 
tossing it on the counter. I took a deep breath and 
faced Peter. I almost hated to look: yup, he'd noticed 
and was staring intently at me. I shrugged and pointed 
at the phone. A gentle smile came to his lips. I picked 
the phone back up.

"Okay," I said.

"Is there an extension that Peter can pick up and 
still see you?"

"Yes. There's one in the dining room."

"Have him pick it up."

Peter was still watching me. I pointed to the phone 
in my hand and then in the direction of the dining-
room extension. He stood up and moved to the phone.
There was a soft click as he picked it up.

"Hello, Peter."

"Hello," Peter said.

"Linda, my name is Charles. Forgive my rudeness for 
not introducing myself sooner. Tell me, Linda, when was 
the last time you and Peter fucked?"

I looked at Peter. He was looking down at his feet, 
ignoring me.

"Last night."

"Beginning now, and until I say otherwise, no more 
sex between the two of you. Peter has told me you have 
a two-week vacation planned beginning next weekend. 
Mountain climbing or some such dangerous activity. You 
are going to cancel the first week of that vacation and 
the three of us will be spending it together. Do the 
two of you have a guest room of some kind?"

Peter was still staring at his feet as if they were 
the most interesting things in the world.

"Yes," I answered.

"Good. Starting Saturday, a week from today, Peter 
will move out of your bedroom and into the guest room. 
Move all of his things out. The bedroom will be shared 
by only you and I, Linda, at least on most nights. When 
was your last period?"

"A week ago."

"That won't be a concern, then. A letter will arrive 
mid-week addressed to you, Linda. It will contain a 
list of articles you are to purchase and the address of 
the establishment where you will find them. Nothing too 
expensive. Make sure you have them before next Sunday. 
I will arrive at 5:00 p.m., Sunday evening. I am very 
punctual. One more thing before I go. Linda, grasp one 
of your nipples and hold it out, away from you, until 
it begins to hurt."

I did as he asked and waited.

"Peter, you can see your wife, can't you?"

I glanced at Peter and he returned my gaze.

"Yes."

"Good. Which nipple is your wife pulling for me?"

"The left nipple."

"I see. Linda, this will only be temporary, but I 
want you to release your nipple, remove your wedding 
band, and hand it to your husband when this call is 
finished. Peter, I suggest you don't lose it. I will 
see the two of you in a week. Remember, no sex. 
Goodbye, Peter."

"Goodbye."

"Goodbye, Linda."

"Goodbye."

The line went dead. I hung up the receiver, released 
my now stinging nipple, and put my sweatshirt back on. 
I happened to notice that I was very aroused. I removed 
my wedding ring, walked to Peter and handed it to him. 
He sheepishly accepted it, then stuffed it into his 
pocket.

Suddenly grabbing me, he hugged me tightly to him. I 
returned the hug, then kissed him passionately. He was 
shivering. God, I love this man. I know that I can do 
and endure the things that will make him happy in this. 
But I'm not so sure about Peter. Does he know what he's 
in for? Well, it's too late now for second-guessing. 
He's made his choice, come what will...

Continued in part 2...

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
It's okay to *READ* stories about unprotected sex with
others outside a monogamous relationship. But it isn't
okay to *HAVE* unprotected sex with people other than
a trusted partner. You only have one body per lifetime,
so take good care of it!
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Kristen's collection - Directory 13