Fantasy Friday

All the characters described herein are 18 years of age or older, fictional; and any resemblance between them and anyone, living, dead, or imaginary, is purely coincidental. Of course, this story contains explicit sex, so don't read it and go elsewhere if it's illegal wherever you are. Thanks for reading, and best regards!

- Ham Sandwich

Fantasy Friday

Thomas had been looking forward to Friday evening all week, but there was a bit of apprehension involved, too. Arielle, his wife, had won the coin toss, so she would be the one calling all the shots. The following Friday would be his turn. They'd been married long enough that their love life had gotten a tad routine, so Arielle had come up with this idea of having each Friday where they'd take turns living out some sexual scenario. She called it "Fantasy Friday," and this evening was the inaugural event. They had agreed that whoever was on top would pretty much be able to mandate whatever sort of action desired. The other party would have veto power, but it would only be used in extreme circumstances and not without a stigma attached.

So the evening had begun with dinner out. They both arrived from their respective places of employment at a new place that Arielle had inspected beforehand. She wanted to see the menu, but she was more interested in the length of the tablecloths. Satisfied, she'd made the reservations and got there first. The hostess assumed the couple would want a quiet table in an alcove, but Arielle surprised her by requesting that they be seated in the very center. Thomas arrived shortly thereafter and took his seat across from his wife.

"Don't you want to visit the little boys' room?" she inquired with feigned innocence once he'd gotten settled in.

"No, I'm fine." he replied and began to take a sip of his drink..

"I think you need to pay a visit there," she stated. Then she leaned in to make close eye contact. "I think you need to take off your boxer shorts and bring them to me," she announced and then noticed with amusement that her husband's drink seemed to have gone down the wrong pipe, because he was suddenly turning red and choking a bit. "Well!" Arielle said, speaking right up. "I believe you really do need to visit the restroom now! Don't forget to bring me those shorts, darling," she added with a whisper. Thomas left the table and headed for the men's room, sheepishly returning five minutes later. Arielle held out her hand, making no effort whatsoever to be discreet. He stood there staring at her hand, unsure how to proceed. Arielle snapped her fingers twice. "Hand 'em over," she ordered.

He quickly scanned the dining area and saw that none of the other diners were paying any attention to him, so he relaxed a bit. Their waitress and one other were standing against a wall watching for anyone in their respective sections who needed service. Unfortunately for Thomas, his waitress chose the very moment to look in their direction when he handed his underwear to his wife. Arielle took them in her hand and casually laid them out on the table and slowly began folding them. Their waitress nudged her coworker and nodded her head in Thomas' direction. The eyes of the second waitress opened wide at the apparent sight of the man's apparel in plain view, and her hand flew up to cover her gaping mouth. Thomas was aghast!

Their waitress couldn't quite believe what she'd just witnessed and was so curious that she marched over to their table to make sure. Arielle was still folding Thomas' underpants when the waitress asked if they needed anything. "No, everything's just fine." answered Arielle crisply, looking up at the astonished girl as coolly as could be as she put the folded shorts in her pocketbook.

"Are you alright, Tom?" she inquired once the waitress was gone. "You look a little out of sorts all of the sudden for some reason," she observed disingenuously. But Thomas was speechless and just managed to pull himself together by the time their dinner arrived. It looked delicious! He was just about to put the first forkful to his mouth when Arielle asked, "Tom, these high heeled sandals I'm wearing have become just a little too uncomfortable. Be a dear, would you? Come over here and unbuckle them for me?"

"Um...certainly," he replied and got up from his seat. He walked around to his wife's side of the table. She actually had him get down on his knees to unlatch her shoes! There, in the restaurant! "Oh, my God!" he thought. "I just want to eat my food and get out of here! And I pray I never see any of these people ever again!"

He returned to his seat and began eating. Well, the food was delicious! After a minute, he felt Arielle's bare foot caressing his crotch. She was smiling at him when he looked at her. "Thomas, I want you to reach down and undo your zipper. Then take your cock out so I can play with it," she said quietly in a tone of voice as matter-of-fact as if she were asking for an after-dinner mint.

"What? Right here?" he exclaimed.

"It's Fantasy Friday, Tom," she reminded him. He had no choice but to comply. Presently, she felt his hand on her foot, followed shortly thereafter by the feel of his naked foreskin against her toes. She slowly stroked his penis with them and was more than a little bit pleased to sense his growing hardness. Then she speared a broccoli floret with her fork and slyly brought it to her lips while she locked his eyes into hers. Her tongue licked the cheese sauce, provocatively and suggestively, while her foot massaged his cock. The look of desperation on Tom's face was pure pleasure to her! After another twenty minutes of this torture, she gave him a sickly sweet smile. "Look at you, Tom! You must not be very hungry this evening. Why, you've hardly touched your food! Well, I guess we'll go then..."

Of course, Thomas was hoping, yearning, actually, for a quick ride home, but that was not to be. Arielle wanted to do a bit of shopping first. Tom groaned when they approached a shoe store. Fifteen minutes later, she found an awesome pair of tall brown leather boots that looked sexy as hell with prominent golden zippers that ran all the way up the backs. The color of the leather perfectly complemented her long, brown hair that fell all the way to her waist. Thomas thought the new foot ware would be awfully uncomfortable for walking any kind of distance, but he said nothing. He didn't know at the time that Arielle had no intention of ever wearing those boots outside the bedroom. She saw them as a worthy addition to her select collection of what she called "fuck me" shoes.

Following her car with his on the drive home, Thomas suffering silently all the way, he reflected on how the week had gone and what they might do on Saturday, and that sufficed to get both their vehicles onto the driveway and parked. Arielle carried the shoe box into the house. She took it into the bedroom; presumably it was destined for her clothes closet. "I'm going to take a quick shower, and when I'm through, you'll get one," she instructed. "Then you can report to me here in the bedroom, and we'll begin our fun and games."

"Fun and games," Thomas thought skeptically. Well, we'll see.

Arielle was in and out of the shower in a record fifteen minutes, which Thomas found fairly amazing. He'd hardly finished checking his email on the office computer when it was his turn to prepare. His shower went quickly as well, and he was on his way out of the bathroom when he remembered to go back and brush his teeth and shave. Then he walked to the bedroom, stark naked, pushed open the door and entered the room.

He found his wife sitting on the far side of the bed with a towel on her lap, using her olive wood handled hair brush to untangle her long tresses. She turned her head and gave him a look of astonished surprise that stopped him in his tracks. "And just what, pray tell, do you think you're doing?" she demanded of him.

"Well, obviously, I'm entering our bedroom, just as you asked," he replied with more than a slight touch of irritation.

"Uh, no," she countered. "This is not the way you report to me. So, go back out, close the door behind you, and try that again. This time, hot rod, we want to see four on the floor, get it?"

"'Four on the floor?'" he repeated questioningly.

"Yep, four on the floor. That means you on your hands and knees. Crawl in here like a good subbie and report as ordered." He stood there staring at her. "Well? Get to it!" she commanded.

Thomas let out a loud sigh of frustration, turned around and stalked toward the doorway. Unseen by him, Arielle grabbed the towel, one corner in one hand and the adjacent corner in the other, twirled it into a rope and thwacked it at Thomas' retreating buns. The corner of the wet towel made a perfect hit and a resounding crack right on his left cheek, and the unexpected jolt of pain caused him to jump. "Let's see some hustle there, slick!"

He swallowed the words that wanted to utter and closed the bedroom door behind him. He got down on his hands and knees and prepared to reenter the room, and then he realized he wouldn't be able to open the door from the position he was in. What to do? He considered his options. He could knock on the door with his fist, but that would mean he wouldn't have the four on the floor. He could holler. He could bang his head against the door. "This is stupid. All this nonsense just to go into my own bedroom!" he muttered to himself. "I'm beginning to regret signing up for this Fantasy Friday thing." In the end, he decided to knock. She knew he wouldn't be able to reach the doorknob from his position, so she opened the door for him and was encouraged to find him on all fours.

The first thing Thomas noticed from his place on the floor was that Arielle was wearing the new boots! From his vantage point, they looked larger than life, and the sensual aroma of the new leather was divine. Oh, God, were they hot! Intoxicating, even! Before he had a chance to notice much else, she walked over to the bed and sat down, this time on the near side. She looked at him expectantly, and he crawled over to her.

"Yes?" she asked, looking down at him and smiling slightly.

"Well, here I am. It's your Friday, oh, princess of mine," he said with a touch of sarcasm. "Whattaya want?"

Arielle paused for a moment, and her smile changed to a look of... what? Disappointment? Sadness, even? "No, she said, "this won't do. The words are there, but the sincerity and the conviction are missing. You need to think about this and maybe try again, Tom."

Tom's immediate feelings were frustration and a little bit of anger. Then he thought, "Wait a minute. This isn't supposed to be about me. This is supposed to be about her. This is her night. Damn, I'm a negative person! Can't I put myself aside just one day out of the week and concentrate on serving my wife?" He tried to remember the last time he opened a car door for her or did any other such gesture of adoration, but he came up empty. Suddenly, he felt ashamed, and he couldn't bring himself to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry, my love," he said with head lowered and genuine contrition. "I am here to serve you any way you wish. I'm ashamed of the way I acted tonight. I can only hope there's some way I can make it all up to you..." his voice trailed off. "I ought to be punished," he added as an afterthought.

"He's finally got it," Arielle thought to herself. "But he has to get past this guilt or everything will be ruined. What to do?" Then her eyes wandered over to the hairbrush lying on the bed, and she had the solution. "Yes," she said with assurance. "You ought to be punished for your bad attitude, and you will be. Stand up, Tom, and get yourself over my lap. I'm going to use my olivewood handled hairbrush to spank your ass!"

He obeyed slowly. He lowered himself over her knees and presented his naked ass for her. She rearranged herself so he was actually between her legs. She could now squeeze her legs together and hold him in position if he began to squirm.

She picked up the brush. "I expect you to hold still and take your punishment like a man, Tom. Like MY man," and she brought down the back of the hairbrush on his right cheek with authority, not holding back anything at all.

He jumped at the initial jolt. "Stay still!" she commanded. A burning sensation replaced the acute crack of pain and slowly increased in intensity, then slowly faded away.

Ten seconds went by before she delivered another blow.

Once again, the shock of the strike caused him to shudder, but he was able to control himself a little better this time. Now Arielle had found her range and began delivering blows in earnest, allowing only a couple of seconds between them. Thomas found to his dismay that the burn had no chance to dissipate before the next one began, so the intensity of the pain began to accumulate.

Just when he thought he would begin to cry out in agony, the ordeal ended, but only for a little while. "Seems like your cock is enjoying itself, Tom. I can feel it getting hard against my leg. Now, we wouldn't want you to go and have an orgasm during your punishment, would we? That would just spoil everything, so we're going to reposition you." Arielle had him stand up and then lie face down on the bed. She produced some ropes from the side table and tied his wrists to his ankles. His legs thus bent at the knees served to raise his midsection off the mattress and eliminate the possibility of Thomas satisfying himself by rubbing his cock against the sheets.

Arielle went back to her disciplinary task and gave Thomas quite a number of smacks. His ass sported many rosy red marks that matched the oval shape of the back of the brush. Close to tears, he was groaning in agony almost continuously now. "Is this what you need, Tom?" asked his wife. "Is this what it will take for you to realize that our relationship has to be based upon mutual respect?"

"Yes...No" he stammered. "Oh, please stop! Please!! Enough!!"

"Have you learned your lesson, mister? No more disdain tonight?"

"Yes! Yes! I'm sorry I was such a jerk!"

"Alright, baby," she relented, and she rolled him onto his back and untied the ropes at his ankles, refastening his wrists to the headboard. "Wow! You sure have one heck of a hard-on! I'm going to take you now, Tom. This is still my Friday, and you're not to come until I give you my permission, understand?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll try." he whimpered, not at all sure he could hold out. He was discovering that her authority over him was arousing as hell!

Arielle got onto the mattress and straddled Thomas. Then she stood up, towering over him, still wearing the sexy brown boots. She positioned herself with a foot on either side of his hips and then lowered her pussy onto his cock by squatting down in one quick motion. She felt all of him slide into her ready wetness, and she gasped with pleasure at the sensation of it. The tops of the boots were only inches from his face, and his sense of smell was assaulted by the rich aroma of fresh leather. He felt himself slide into her tight wetness, all the way until her outer lips were kissing his balls and the tip of his cock was bottoming out inside her. He knew at once that it would be extremely difficult to keep from coming. Arielle began moving up and down on him, and the look of passionate pleasure in her eyes only served to push him closer to his climax. "I don't think I can hold back too much longer," he confessed.

"Don't come yet, Thomas, do you hear me? Don't come," she commanded, and he groaned in agony at the though of waiting much more. Arielle changed her movements to include a circular sweep around her husband's penis in addition to the up and down. Soon she was moaning and increasing the pace. "Oh God, Tom, I'm gonna come! OH, GODDDD!" she screamed as her climax wrenched through her body.

"It's true," Thomas thought. "That thing I read on the Internet about there being no atheists right before an orgasm." Arielle collapsed on top of him, forgetting for a moment that he was still up in the air sexually. "Are we there yet?" he asked meekly.

"Yeah, your turn now, baby," she announced as she untied his wrists and moved him on top of her. She pulled her legs up and crossed her heels behind his back once he was back inside her. "Do me, baby." she urged. "Fill my pussy with that come! Breed me! Knock me up!" she hollered, egging him on and making him pump her faster and faster. "Yeah, that's it! Make me pregnant so everybody can see my big belly and know that I'm your breed bitch mare and you've been fucking me!" Thomas was spurred on and puffing like a freight train. Finally, he let out a mighty groan and pumped rope after rope of semen into his wife. "I have to find a western wear store and get a pair of cowgirl boots," she thought. "With spurs. To add to my collection of 'fuck me' shoes. I could sink those spurs into his backside, right where the cheeks of his ass meet the tops of his thighs, just at the moment he comes. I wonder if there'd be permanent marks," she mused to herself.

And the vision of that fantasy was enough to push Arielle over the edge for yet another orgasm, with her husband's penis still twitching inside her.

They both collapsed into a sweat-drenched heap of flesh, panting and trying to regain equilibrium. Between gasps, Arielle finally managed to say, "You really are Thomas the Tank Engine, aren't you?" And they both laughed.

A half an hour later, they were relaxing in bed together, Arielle's back supported by Tom's chest, getting re-hydrated by sipping from large tumblers full of mineral water. Reverently, he helped her take off her new boots.

"Do you think this will be the month you get pregnant? he asked.

"We just started trying, I just got off the pill, so I think it'll probably take longer, but who knows? We'll give it six months to a year," she replied.

"And if it doesn't happen, are you sure you're really comfortable with the idea of adopting?" he wondered.

"I think so. Look, every couple has to decide what to do for themselves, but to me, spending a small fortune on treatments at a fertility clinic isn't good stewardship of our money. Better to conclude that we weren't meant to have our own kids and we ought to take in other kids who wouldn't be as fortunate otherwise." Arielle mused. "The only thing is, what do we tell them when they start to wonder about having been adopted. I don't think we should ever lie to them about where they came from."

"You mean, if they feel like they weren't wanted. We can tell them that other parents have to take whatever they get, but we chose them. That ought to make them feel special. And if they feel like their biological mother didn't want them, we can say that maybe she loved them so much that she was willing to give them up so they could have a better life than what she could provide."

"Yeah, that makes sense," she admitted. "You're very wise."

"Anyway, all of that is a long way in the future, and we have plenty of time to see how it all works out," he soothed.

They were both silent for a while. Then Thomas asked, "Am I self-centered?"

She looked at him sympathetically. "Oh, honey, no! You're every woman's dream husband!" she assured him, but then she had a second thought. "But, well, it's just that sometimes you need to relinquish control and let me lead a little. Not often, but sometimes, just for a while. You're such a strong man, it ought to be good for you to let go once in a while. Me calling the shots now and then might make me appreciate what you have to go through with handling all the responsibilities. You know, I think I'm going to have a glass of wine," Arielle announced. We have that open bottle of white. Would you like me to get you one, too?" she asked.