Memories as Fantasies Ch. 02

Editor's note: this story contains scenes of incest or incest content.

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This follows Memories as Fantasies, published in BDSM, however it can be read independently, A few caveats. It involves a double gangbang and group sex, as well as a touch of incest, and some wife swapping. Mostly it's about my own submissive tendencies, and a husband who wants to exhibit and, as it turns out, share his wife, namely me. For some readers, this may not be your cup of tea.

As for category it could be in Group Sex or Loving Wives, but I think ultimately it's about exhibitionism, so I have placed it there.

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I was forcing myself to conform and I knew it. I had deeply suppressed my dark sexual desires in order to have a perfect Indiana life with a loving husband, two beautiful little daughters, a church community of good friends, a house with a front yard, a back yard, and a dog. The dog was a golden retriever, and I loved the dog, I loved our girls, and I loved most of all my hunk of a husband, Brad.

The problem is that I'm a reformed sexual submissive. Brad does not know. Nobody in the entire state of Indiana knows. My sophomore year in college I was a sexual slave for my first true love Rob, but he beat me, and then he was going to start passing me around to his friends, so I left him and moved to Chicago to live with Carl, a man I fell in love with in one day during a fleeting bout of submissive group sex.

All of that was behind me and I was then living a blissful lie of a life in Indiana, pretending to be just like all the prim and proper Hoosier wives who went to our church. Sex with Brad was great because the man had serious talent. He just had no imagination, or so I thought.

We had been married for five years when I made the big discovery. I had been working on a big IT project at my job, and I had taken work home. Brad was out with his poker buddies, the girls were peacefully sleeping, and I was working away at my kitchen table when my computer crashed. When I say it crashed, I mean it really and truly crashed. It got the dreaded blue screen of death. I could not revive it, and what's worse, I did not have the time to revive the bleeping machine. Deadlines loomed.

All my work was saved to Dropbox, so the solution was obvious and I went to Brad's computer. I needed his password, but I knew how his mind works, so I tried 362433, which are my measurements. That did not work, so I tried Joanne362433, and that too did not work. I next tried adding my cup size: Joanne362433D and lo and behold I was in!

I recovered my files from Dropbox and furiously typed away. After a few hours I needed a break. I went on line and went shopping, got distracted by the telephone, and somehow, I lost my website. This was not being a good digital day! I went to browser window history to reclaim the page on sexy lingerie from which I had been 'window shopping.'

Something that flitted across my eyes in browser history caught my attention, and I went back to it, and discovered something new, secret, and revealing about my straight-laced, pious, Christian, God-fearing, church-going husband. I got excited. There was more to the man than I thought! Suddenly I had new hope.

I browsed through his Firefox, Safari and most of all his Chrome browser histories. Brad read stories about exhibitionism, sharing wives, more exhibitionism and even gangbangs, and even more exhibitionism. The man had a dark side! He had a fantasy life! Who knew? I was so excited, I was beside myself. It was clear from my close study that his primary interest was in women who were exhibitionists.

Exhibitionism was not my kink. While I am proud of my body, I am shy about it, and a private person. I don't hide it from Brad, not at all, but Brad is my husband. For other men, my body is none of their business.

After our five years of God fearing marriage and the missionary position all the time, and I do mean all the time, I began to wonder if my submissive needs could be channeled into exhibitionism? Can that happen, where one substitutes one kink for another and solves one's dark needs? I did not know.

I thought for a while and decided maybe it was worth trying? I figured I could be an exhibitionist. Just showing off some skin from time to time does not expose oneself to the massive humiliation and sexual dangers (of disease and abuse) that come with promiscuity.

I decided to try it. I would do whatever it took to get Brad outside his Hoosier sexual straight jacket.

I'm not an idiot. It did occur to me that Brad's fantasy life of having an exhibitionist wife or girlfriend was just that: A fantasy life. Perhaps the idea of his own wife being an exhibitionist would gross him out, and it could even ruin our marriage. This was tricky ground I would be treading. I would need to take baby steps. I needed to test the waters before plunging in.

The next night was our weekly date night, and the usual teenage babysitter came to watch the girls. Newly aware, I noticed for the first time that Brad checked out her ass. She was wearing skin tight yoga pants that were a typical garb of teenage girls, and a T shirt over her small bra encased teenaged breasts.

Brad checked out her ass when she bent over to pick up little Sally, and later when she walked to the kitchen to fetch a juice box. The yoga pants showed off every line of her ass; it was as if they were a second skin. Brad also tried to look down her T shirt when she bent over. I had never before noticed such behavior with Brad. I was so encouraged!

All this was highly relevant due to my own body. I should describe myself. You know already my measurements are 36-24-33, so you know I'm a bit top heavy, and a D cup bra size. Except for my boobs, at age 27 and the mother of two little girls, I am lucky still to have the body of a teenage girl, and a slim one at that. Only the 'barely there' crow feet of my eyes reveal that I am no longer seventeen.

The next day I went shopping, trying on an enormous variety of yoga pants. They all showed panty lines, but our babysitter's yoga pants did not. They showed off her ass quite splendidly. I began to model yoga pants without my panties. I found some that were so thin and tight one could see through them if I bent over. I could buy a thong, why not? Or I could just go commando? Woohoo, wouldn't that blow Brad's little mind?

I bought three pair in different colors. I haunted the Circle Centre Mall in downtown Indy, pushing a double stroller, and checking out the boobs of all the teenage mall rats. It was obvious: I needed blouses that buttoned and were so tight they gapped, giving the casual observer views of my bra. In an outfit like that I would fit right in if I were to crash a teenage party.

Alternatively, I could use blouses that billowed our away from my body when I leaned forward, so that the casual voyeur could look down my blouse. Brad was destined to get some treats! Let's hope he was predisposed to like them if he got them from his own wife.

I also needed special effect bras. I explained my plans to a sympathetic sales girl at Victoria's Secret. She was probably only 16 to 18 years old but she had the perverted mind of the most corrupt sexual deviant. That girl had a future! I had to keep her away from Brad.

The Victoria's Secret salesgirl gave me pointers in exchange for my graphic descriptions of masochistic sex. She had not yet begun sexual relations with men, but she certainly was eager to hear what I had experienced! We must have talked for an hour right there in Victoria's Secret, and I came away soaking wet where it matters.

I knew I had to start small. I began with the yoga pants and being commando underneath them, and only around the house. Brad noticed right away, and even though he knows he can fuck me stark naked anytime, anywhere, for some reason he loved checking me out in yoga pants. I guess that's part of the kink.

One of the consequences of having children is that relatives tend to "drop in." In this case it was my sister who flew in from New York to see her nieces. I had not realized how much I had conformed to Indiana sartorial tastes until my sister breezed in for the weekend, having found a cheap round-trip airfare from Newark airport.

My sister was 24, as opposed to my age of 27, and she had on a non-apologetic sartorial choice fresh from New York. It consisted of a low-cut blouse with a push up bra, with a skirt that came only to mid-thigh, or a little above. In New York she looked normal; in Indy she looked like a sister from another planet. She also had the family's generous mammary endowment, shared by all of us women.

Brad almost went bananas trying to look down her blouse at every single opportunity, all the while trying and failing to be subtle. This did not fool me, and it did not fool my sister Sarah. When we were alone to talk, we had a good chat. Sarah was one of the very few people to whom I had ever confided my sexual kinkiness.

Sarah had noticed the voyeuristic aspects of Brad, and she said, "I knew it, Joanne. I knew you could not have fallen in love with Brad as you did unless he had a kinky side. Pity it's so repressed!"

"Thank goodness you noticed, too!" I said.

"Want to have some fun?" Sarah asked.

"Of course!" I replied. "What do you have in mind?"

We took the girls with us and went shopping for bikinis. We found matching bikinis that minimized the amount of flesh that was covered. This was Indianapolis, so that does not mean that much. When we got home we used our sewing skills (yes, our Mom taught Sarah how to sew, too) to remove the linings. Sarah took a shower wearing the bikini and when she emerged, I could see her body right through it. It had become transparent.

We don't have a pool of course, but we were both lounging in the back yard soaking up some sun when we called for Brad to come outside. He came out, carrying three cold beers. Sarah said, "Brad, we've been fighting. We need you to be the judge and to settle this battle."

"Well, okay," Brad said, cautiously. "What do you want me to do?"

We both got up. "Who has the curvier body?" Sarah asked.

"Who has better boobs?" I asked.

"Who has the best ass?" we asked together, both turning around to show off our asses, wiggling them for his viewing pleasure. We had rehearsed.

Brad laughed. "You must think I'm an idiot if you think I'd fall for that!" but we both noticed he was hard, just from having had our tits and asses shoved before his lecherous eyes.

"Brad, be a doll and turn on the sprinklers, would you? We're roasting out here and want to run through the water as if we were children again," I said.

"You two look nothing like children in those two bikinis," Brad said, laughing as he went to the faucet and turned it on.

The two of us squealed as the cold water hit us, and we arranged to get soaked in all the right places, rendering out suits quite transparent, so that effectively both of us were naked in the back yard.

"Okay, Brad, Round Two!" I asked. "Now who has the better boobs?"

Brad stood there, frozen, unable to speak, as my sister and I revealed our boobs to him via our transparent suits.

"You can see better now, right?" Sarah asked.

"You might as well as have taken your tops off," Brad said.

"Ooh, sexy! Okay," we both said. We had been hoping he'd say something like that. We both removed our tops, and Brad was seeing my sister's boobs in all of their glory for the first time. Mine he knew like the back of his hand, but he still loved that I was baring them in the back yard, in front of him, my sister, and whatever neighbors might be looking at that moment.

Sarah went to the sprinkler and let the spray go directly right up into her crotch, so I did, too. "Who has the better camel toe?" Sarah asked. We both had quite nice ones.

"Jeepers, girls," Brad said. "I can see everything. You're driving me nuts!"

"Do you think we might as well be naked, or something?" I asked.

Brad was catching on fast, and he said, "Yes, I do. You could say that, yes."

"Sarah?" I asked. Sarah nodded. We each removed our bikini bottoms, too, so that now we were both naked in front of Brad, ourselves, and the neighbors.

"Let's go inside before Brad gets a stroke in this sun or something," I said. The three of us, with us two girls naked, paraded back into the house. I pushed Brad into the armchair, and Sarah and I sat side by side on the couch facing Brad.

We both sat with our legs crossed for modesty. That way, our pussies were not exposed to Brad's obviously hungry eyes! Our boobs however were a feast for his eyes, I'm sure. Our boobs were remarkably alike. Sarah's boobs had always been seriously bigger than mine, but now that my boobs had grown after the two births, the two sets of boobs were close to identical. Brad looked as if he were watching tennis, with his eyes darting from my boobs to Sarah's, and back again.

"So, who has the better boobs?" Sarah asked Brad.

Brad just sat there. He seemed to be unable to speak. Never in his wildest dreams could be have ever imagined this would be happening to him.

"It's not a fair question, Sarah," I said. "Brad sees my boobs all the time, and yours are brand new to him. Novelty has its value."

"Does Brad taste your boobs? We could ask him to compare tastes?" Sarah offered.

"Good idea! He hasn't indulged in a nipple suckle since I gave birth and my boobs filled with milk. That's nine months ago! My boobs are getting lonely for the touch of my lover's mouth," I offered.

"Oh goodie!" Sarah said. "I'll go first," and she got up, revealing her nudity to Brad, slowly crossed the ten feet to the armchair, while Brad checked out her pussy rather shamelessly. Sarah sat on Brad. She did not just sit down, no she dramatically sat down, straddling his legs. Her pussy was exposed and sitting near his cock, which was fortunately protected by his jeans. She thrust her boobs into Brad's face. "Give them a lick, you stud," Sarah said.

Brad looked at me. I smiled at him and nodded. "It's high time you found out what wonderful boobs your sister-in-law has, husband of mine. Go for it, you lucky dawg," I said.

Brad hesitantly licked Sarah's boobs, and Sarah giggled in response. She let him lick and suckle for a few minutes, and then she slowly got up, exposing her pussy, and scampered back to her place on the couch. "Your turn, Sis," she said.

I got up and repeated what Sarah had done. The difference was twofold. First, I did not giggle but moaned when he licked and suckled my boobs. Second, I placed my pussy right on top of the prominent bulge in his jeans, letting his erection massage my pussy just a little through his pants. I thought of it as a privilege of marriage. It felt wonderful, and sexy as hell. His jeans got a nice wet spot, right over his bulge.

After all this, Brad got to watch his wife and her sister run upstairs naked and giggling, boobs bouncing, to get dressed, because one of the poker wives would be bringing home our little girls in around five or ten minutes.

Sarah told me, "Brad is a normal man, with a healthy interest in sex, but I suspect that he is truly interested in having an exhibitionist wife. Are you going to try to become one?"

"Sarah, if that's Brad kink, then yes, I'll become one. He'll never be a Dom, I know that, but I'm hoping I can work something out where he tells me what exhibitionist kink he'd like me to do. Just having him give me orders will be enough for me. God, a man ordering me around gets me so wet!" I confessed.

"Well good luck," Sarah said. "I have to take my boobs and my sexy body downstairs and greet my little nieces! Those are two of the cutest little devils that have ever romanced the Earth!"

"Bring Louise upstairs. I'm still breast feeding, you know. Brad got a little of her milk just now. I think that really turned him on! I pulled away before he ate her lunch!" I said, as Sarah hurried downstairs, giggling constantly. I realized she had 'forgot' to put her bra on when she got dressed. Ooh, she is an evil tease, I happily thought. The next day my sister flew home to New York, wishing me a happy heartland life. She returned with six freshly picked ears of corn in her carry-on. Fresh corn is the best souvenir of Indiana. Nothing tastes like it.

A sudden brainstorm overcame me around a week after Sarah had left. I went back to the mall and bought a V neck nightgown. It came with an attached slip, since it was transparent. When I was a teenager, my parents felt they had to teach me certain life skills. My father taught me to swim, later to drive a car, and finally to ski. My mother taught me to sew, to cook, and explained birth control.

Those were useful skills as I was soon to find out, especially of course driving, and a little later birth control became hopelessly useful. My mother also told me, as I got older, always to moan and make noise when having sex. "Men love it," she said. "Just remember that if you have sex in our home, while your father's here, stifle the moans!"

Being a teenager at the time, I relied in my most elegant English. "Duh," I said.

I smiled at the memory of my Mom's 'talks,' took the nightgown home and heavily modified it. I enlarged the V neck and continued the V neck further into the blouse by adding buttons. I shortened the nightie to crotch length, so that if I sat while wearing it in any but one position, I would show off my panties. Were I not to wear panties, then I would show off parts a girl is not supposed to show off.

The pièce de résistance came when I removed the attached slip. I modeled the nightgown in front of a full-length mirror in our bedroom, and I could see my areolas and nipples through it, as well as my bush, further south. They were hazy images, which was better than clear actually, since it was suggestive rather than blatant, and suggestive is sexier.

Brad worked late that night, and when he came home the girls were asleep and I greeted him at the door in my new nightgown. For the first time in our marriage we made love in the front hall. Now that was the reaction I had been hoping for! Every time after that were I to greet him in my nightgown, we had sex, it did not matter where in the house we were. I loved this heretofore undiscovered aspect of my husband, who was a more interesting man than I had thought.

One thing about Brad that was different than any of my previous lovers was that he never asked to take 'sexy pictures' of me. Now that I was learning these new dimensions of my hubby, I became curious why and when he was not around I again secretly logged into his computer.

I found oodles of pictures of our daughters of course, as well as pictures from our honeymoon and vacations. There was one folder however that was labeled "Private." He might as well have labeled it, "Hey, Look at Me!"

I giggled at how Brad's mind worked. As if, after invading his privacy by cracking his password and looking through his pictures, I would respect a folder of my husband marked 'Private?' I guess most Hoosier women would respect it, now that I thought about it. I was from New York, however.

I was thrown for a loop when I opened it. It was chock full of pictures of half dressed women, naked women, and a few of women lying on the bed masturbating. All of the women were me, his wife. In one picture he had even caught me using my vibrator, a sex toy I had carefully hidden from him.

How could he have taken these pictures? After cataloging the pictures in my mind, I went to our bedroom and found the hidden blue tooth enabled camera. I found one in the master bathroom, too. That's when the panic hit. Had he shared any of the pictures? How embarrassing that would be! Just how deep was he into exhibitionism and voyeurism, anyway?