I didn’t keep the fantasies to myself. I brought my wife Helen into the stories and told her all about them. I told her I would like her to watch or take part. Happily she’s not exactly averse to the idea. Not one bit. We’ve fantasised about this a lot together and she has the most beautiful orgasms thinking about me with another guy. Nothing like this had ever actually happened until my wife and I took a vacation in Amsterdam. On the first day we did the usual tourist things: a trip along the canals, The Anne Frank museum, dinner in a wonderful Indonesian restaurant and back to the hotel to conk out. On the second afternoon Helen went shopping and I wandered round the town taking in the sights and having a few Dutch beers. I visited a couple of bookshops and art galleries and late in the afternoon I found myself on the Spuistraat. This isn’t in the red light district so I was surprised to see a huge porno shop. It was Amsterdam so I had to take a look inside. The atmosphere in. The feeling of her fingers, chilled but not cold, the contrast of temperature between his throbbing member and her tapered cool fingers adding an additional sensation to the tingles of her stroking hand. John knew he wouldn’t last long his eyes closed and his head fell back. As John felt the orgasm approach, his body tensed, muscles in his stomach rippling, his thighs like bow strings, vibrating, he twitched each time Carols’ fingers crossed the sensitive part under the head of his cock, passing over the purple head, spreading the clear slippery liquid that gathered there. Carol leaned down and kissed his stomach murmuring as she continued to stroke him, her head eye level with her hand as she stroked, gripping tighter and stroking faster in her excitement. She looked up at John’s face, slowing her stroking slightly. She wanted this to last, to last forever but knew his crescendo was only moments away. She saw that he was totally focused, and leaned in and kissed his cheek, her lips.
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