Turning Thirty

Taking it to the bedroom

Some people's fantasies are more complicated than that. Some people's fantasies feature sex with lots of men, or doing it in front of a small admiring audience. Or in my case both.

Laura sloshed more wine into her glass. "Just change what turning thirty means for you, Holly. You're a grown woman with a great job. You're married to a gorgeous man who loves you and you're beautiful. Turn thirty Holly."

So that night in bed, I cuddled up to Sam and told him about the toy cowboy and my concern about our state of the union.

He sighed and I smelt his apple-sweet breath, the familiar scent of my Sam.

"My fantasy is you turned on like you used to be," he said a little sadly. "I don't care how or where or why. If you told me you wanted us to do it with a real cowboy I'd go find one right now."

Maybe Laura was right. A particular fantasy of mine had been getting some action lately on those duty-sex Saturdays. Perhaps now was the time to share.

"It's not about fancying anyone else," I began cautiously, "but I imagine men; other faceless men. You're there too but I'm blindfolded and I can't see you or any of them. You all take turns with me, licking me out and fucking me, while the rest silently watch."

There was a pause. Then we both started breathing a little heavier and Sam answered by clasping my bottom and drawing me into him. A long-silenced drum started to beat between my legs. I brushed a hand down inside Sam's t-shirt towards his cock and to my surprised excitement found that it was rock hard. I took him in my hand and moaned as he began to stroke me. In a low voice he started to embellish my scenario with a few details of his own. That boy has some imagination.

Hey, and it wasn't even Saturday.

Two nights later, just as we were falling asleep, Sam took a deep breath and spoke.

"Holly, I can't stop thinking about it. I want to do it. Consider it a turning thirty present. Some other men, the two of us, one time only and no regrets. I interviewed a discreet group of men for work last month whose thing is exactly what you describe. They're safe and I'd trust them with you."

I squirmed. Sam was a journalist and I'd sneakily read his piece on the anonymous men's club. It was precisely what had re-awoken my long dormant fantasy.