The Fantasy of the 4 Cigarettes

My wife, Missy, and I play "sex games" to keep the spice in our marriage. Usually we will play some type of game, like backgammon, poker or gin to decide who gets to determine the game for the night. The winner gets his or her fantasy and is in control; the loser does what he/she is told and plays whatever role is assigned.

For the first several years we played these games, we kept the fantasy play to ourselves. If I won, I might tie Missy up, blindfold her, and touch her while we talked about fantasy play. My favorite fantasy was to talk about her making love to some other guy. When we play this fantasy, I make Missy act like she has been blackmailed into being the sex slave of some guy and really put her through her paces.

Missy was a little more creative than me. She liked to make me serve her, masturbate in front of her, and then service her orally until she came. Sometimes she would give me a mild spanking. I say "mild," but by the time the spanking was over, my bottom would be roundly red, and after the spanking proper, Missy would occasionally give me a "Booster Spank just to keep my color up. She used hand, hairbrush, spatula, wooden spoons, and the occasional rolled up magazine. It wasn't brutal, but it damn sure stung, and Missy seemed to take a very sexual delight in spanking my ass.

After she reddened me, the situation would usually end up with me giving Missy head. She would make me get on my hands and knees on top of her while I bent to lick her pussy. If I was not doing the job the way she liked it, Missy would give my sore ass additional whacks with her hand. It was a damn strong incentive to do a good job. When I brought Missy off, her orgasms were intense. It is fair to say that she played out her desires thoroughly when she won our competitions.

Overall, we have been fairly equal in who played Dominant or Submissive and frankly do a good job in whatever role fate assigned us to. I think we each possess personal characteristics that just naturally like the "control" type play. Missy is a Domestic Relations Attorney, and she is famous for her ball-busting style. She dominates the courtroom and is ruthless. I think that something inside her creates a need to have submissive times when she is away from work -- maybe just to make up for her dominating attitude at work.

Last month marked a turning point in our games. We had been fussing and fighting over a variety of little things for several weeks. It was petty shit, but it was the type of thing that destroyed closeness and created a lot of resentment. We hadn't made love for almost a month. We hadn't even kissed.

One night after dinner, fed up with the whole situation [and damned horny], I suggested to Missy that we play a sex game. I told her that it might work to clear the air and at least it would be a positive step towards healing our differences. Missy thought about the offer for some time before she responded. "That's fine with me, but I want to warn you that when I win, I intend to put you through your paces like never before. Are you willing to play this game to the fullest?"

I was feeling rather combative and told her that I was not the problem. She was the one who would back off when I won the game. Amidst this hostility, we started the game. We chose backgammon for the competition. One game. Winner controls. Loser does what the winner says for 24 hours. Basically, the winner has his or her way with the loser.

Peeved as I was at Missy for her recent actions and attitude, I recognized that she was equally peeved at me. I knew from the start that the loser would have hell to pay. I just prayed to win, because I wanted to take control over Missy and make her pay for her bitchiness.

The game started. Missy is not only a smart backgammon player, but she rolled like a magician. She soon had a large advantage on the board, and recognizing it, she started taunting me. "Tonight, you're going to learn to admit you are wrong. I am going to spank your little bottom until you cry for mercy. I'm going to tie you up and wear you out." Being significantly behind in the game, I didn't say a word. Frankly, I was worried about being at her mercy. I had hoped matters would turn out differently.

We reached the stage where one good roll would make Missy a winner. "I hope you're not going to welch on the bet," she smirked. I told her that I was not a welcher and would pay my debts if I lost. She smiled and walked away from the backgammon board and went to the basement. She returned with a Ping Pong paddle. One of the old sandpaper ones. "This sure is going to sound good smacking off your ass." Missy needed only a 3 and a 4 to go out. She rolled what could have been the final roll. She got a 1 and a 2 and had to leave two tiles vulnerable.

Being hopelessly behind, I had set up a back game. When Missy's digits became exposed, I prayed for a good roll. I got it, landing on both her men. She had to move them to the back of the board.

I smiled. "The game's not over yet." The game and her luck seemed to change at that point. It took her over six rolls to even get back on the board and I would hit her exposed man every time the opportunity was there. Soon we were down to two men each. Missy was not looking nearly as happy or as confident as she had before. I had a chance to win the game with a roll of 3 or better on each die. I rolled double 5's. Overkill. I removed my last men from the board and smiled at Missy. "I win, you lose. I think I'm in control -- anything I say -- that is, unless you want to show your true character and back out."

Missy positively glared at me. She is very competitive and frankly is a good sportsman. She said, "I know how to pay my debts, too. What's it going to be? Tie me up and talk about other guys fucking me?"

Well, that had happened often enough in the past and very well might have been my plan, except for my thinking about that ping pong paddle and her bitchy attitude earlier. Remember, Missy and I had not fucked for over a month. I was beside myself with horniness, and though Missy often downplayed her sexual aptitude, I suspected she would love a good orgasm. Man or woman, horniness can lead to control. I had decided to up the ante and see how far Missy would take it.

I looked at Missy and said, "Not tonight, dear. I believe I have control for 24 hours and you are supposed to do anything I say. Are you up to it, or are you going to back out?"

My Wife looked at me boldly. "Have at me. Do your worst. When I lose, I pay my debts. Who do you want me to pretend is fucking me tonight? My boss? The neighbor? How about your best friend? You start it and I'll finish it."

Missy did not yet know that I was designing far more elaborate plans for her this evening. She had been a bitch to me lately, even through our game, and she had made clear her nasty intentions if she won. She had lost, though, and I was in charge. I decided to take our game to a new level. "Go to the bedroom," I ordered "take off all of your clothes and sit on the end of the bed. I'll be up in a minute."

She smiled. This was how our fantasies often began. She went to the bedroom. I sat for a moment and thought about whether I was really up to doing what I had in mind. It was a close decision, and I wasn't at all sure how it might impact our marriage. I thought about a tamer approach. While thinking, my eyes went to the ping pong paddle. Missy had planned on wearing me out; that was her fantasy: to control and punish her husband. That decided me. I went to the bedroom.

As instructed, Missy was sitting naked on the bed. I looked at her appreciatively. Missy is a petite redhead, about 5'2", with a lovely body. Her breasts were average for her size, about a 34B+. She had a lovely, "girl next door" kind of face and one of the most shapely rear ends I had ever encountered. Her pubic thatch was bright red, matching her hair, but sparse like a young girl's. Her most striking feature nude, though, were her nipples.

Missy has large, "pencil eraser" nipples and they were almost always hard and had been since I first met her. It was those nipples poking through a bathing suit that had initially attracted her to me. Now, at 29, she almost always wore a bra despite my protests to the contrary. I had missed seeing her erect nipples through fabric.

Even better, my wife had the most sensitive nipples I had ever encountered. It was like two "G-spots" on the ends of breasts. She was an absolute slave to her nipples, and more than once I had brought her to orgasm just by nibbling, tweaking, pinching and kissing her nipples. During one of our private sex talks, Missy had confided to me that she had to be real careful in high school to keep guys from getting to "second base." Once they got there, she was theirs for anything -- if they knew how to work the situation.

Missy looked cooly at me. "Well, what's it going to be? Am I too much for you to handle? Let's get it over with."

I smiled at her. "My dear Wife, even now you try to control the situation. It's not going to work. I've got about 23 hours to do what I want to, and I intend to take my time and savor every moment. There's no hurry. Now get up and get dressed."

She looked up, surprised. "Dressed. Why?"

I smiled, "You'll find out. I took her to her closet. I rummaged through her clothes, looking for the outfit I knew was still there. I found it. It was a lime green minidress, cut about 5" above the knee. The top was V-necked, but not particularly risque. What I loved about the dress was that the fabric clung like a second skin to Missy and made her curves and her nipples seem extra prominent. "Put that on," I instructed. "With your garter belt, stockings and heels. Nothing else."

"Want to help dress me, big boy?" Missy said as she slipped on the clothing as instructed. I was getting more excited, because my wife had no idea of what I had planned for her. I made her go to the bathroom, fix her hair and instructed her to put on makeup slightly heavier than she normally wore.

When Missy came out of the bathroom, I almost came. She was as sexy a woman as I had ever seen. Her curly red hair hung to her shoulders. Her makeup gave her just the right amount of the 'slutty' look. Her nipples stood out against a dress that gripped her sexy petite body.

"Alright, Stud," she said in Mae West style. "Ready to rip it off of me?"

I just smiled and said, "Let's go downstairs." She looked puzzled, but complied. Downstairs, I went to the coat closet and got Missy's coat. "We're going out," I informed her.

She looked shocked. "Out? I'm not going out dressed like this." Missy had not even put on the lime mini for several years, claiming she had "outgrown it."

I grinned at her. "How the mighty have fallen. Welching on a bet. I expected more from you."

Missy's attitude faltered, and she said, "Where do you have in mind?"

"Franklin's, of course." Franklin's is the ultimate local meat market. It is a yuppie type place, and both the men and the women who went there had only one thing on their mind. It was our city's most renown pickup place, attended by those who were looking and planned to score. Missy had never been there and had always bitched about the place. "That's the bar where sluts and bimbos hang out."

Missy looked at me. "So that's what you want for your victory. To embarrass me in front of a bunch of guys. To show me off?"

At that point, I was fed up. I looked at my Missy and said, "Missy, I won the game. Either you pay off or you don't. I'm tired of the sass and the bitching. If you're in, then let me know. If you aren't going to pay your bet, let me know. It says a lot about you and your real character, you know. Honorable when it suits you. Frankly, I've been expecting you to back out."

Missy glared at me angrily. She is competitive, and she doesn't like her character questioned. She smiled, "Okay, Honey, you won the bet. Whatever you say. I won't say another word."

I wanted to get the ground rules straightened out. "Let's make sure we understand each other. I have won. You are going to do anything I say, no matter what it is. You will play any role I say. I will have my way with you, and you will do anything I say, without your damn bitching. I don't care what it is. If I tell you to strip and walk down Main Street, you will do it. If I tell you to masturbate in front of Town Hall, you will do it." I paused. "If I tell you to fuck a stranger on the street, you will do it. If I want other people to have their way with you, you will let them. I am in absolute control. You lost. You pay the bet to the winner, if you have the guts. Now, do we have an agreement?"

Missy had clearly been ready to agree until that last part involving 'other people.' She looked at me quizzically and said, "What do you mean 'other people.?"

I laid it on the line. "Missy, when I say other people, I mean any damn body, male or female, living or dead, real or fictional that I may want to involve in my fantasy. It shouldn't matter to you. It's a simple question: do you pay your bet -- fully, as I determine -- or did you lie when we started the game and plan to play only if you won?"

If there is anything Missy hates being called, it is a liar. She responded instantly and angrily. "Fine, now I understand. I pay my bets."

I smiled and said, "Then let's go."

Missy, though, wasn't finished. I can handle any damn thing or any damned body you throw at me. It might be a refreshing change for the better!" That pissed me off. Further resolved, I said, "We'll see."

We were just putting on our coats when the front doorbell rang. I moaned, amazed the God of Bad Timing would ruin this moment for me. Worse, when I went to the door, it was Karen, one of Missy's best friends, with her husband Mike. We often did things as couples, though I couldn't stand Karen. She was a strong feminist type, and we could never seem to agree on anything. I also thought she was a real bitch to her husband. Mike was a good guy, one of those "let's get along" type people who always saw that everyone had a good time.

When we opened the door, Karen got a good look at Missy in her dress and said, "OHHH La La. What's going on here?" Missy looked a little embarrassed and said to Karen, "I'll tell you about it later." I figured she would. Karen and Missy seemed to keep no secrets about each other. I decided then and there to create a situation so humiliating that Missy would not dare relate it to Karen.

I looked at Karen. "Wish we could stay and talk, but we're just getting ready to leave." Ignoring me, Karen barged right in the house. "Where are we going," she cooed.

I tried to be nice. "Wish you could come along, but this is one of those Husband-Wife nights. If we don't leave soon, we'll be late for our dinner reservation."

Karen said, "Alright, you win. Get us a beer for the road and we're on our way. We know when we're not wanted." As usual, she made herself at home and walked into the kitchen to get a beer.

I looked at Mike, but I couldn't make eye contact. His eyes were glued to Missy's chest. Her nipples were the most notable erections in three counties; they were really highlighted by the tight clingy material of her dress. It's one of the favorite sights for any guy. Inspiration struck, and I gave Missy a hug and whispered in her ear: "I want you to flirt with Mike. Find some excuse to hug him. Make him think you're interested. I expect you to kiss him at least once. And you will not refuse any advance he makes." Without waiting for any reply, I looked up and excused myself to help Karen with the beers.

I went to the kitchen and engaged Karen in one of our "chilly but cordial" discussions. Karen seemed surprised by the conversation. Usually we never talked beyond token pleasantries. She kept inquiring about what was going on and why Missy was dressed like "a slutty barfly." I feigned innocence, like I didn't know what she was talking about.

Then, Karen surprised me. She looked at me and said, "You know, Missy's been a real bitch lately. I know she has to me, and I'm pretty certain she has to you. She's been treating me like I'm hired help instead of a friend, and I'm over it. Is your sex life sucking, or what?"

I was nonplused. Karen and I never talked this intimately, and I didn't know how to respond or how much to tell her. I decided that discretion was the better part of valor. "Well, we sure haven't been acting like newlyweds, but what married couple does. I promise I'm working on the problem, though."

Karen smiled. "I hope so...and I hope you know that occasionally, Missy needs someone to control her. Just some friendly advice. If you ever need help in that project, by the way, please give me a call. I assure you I can be of some assistance." Karen winked at me. I wanted to inquire further what she meant, but Karen turned and walked towards the living room. I followed her. Looking at my watch, I saw that Karen and I had been talking for almost twenty minutes. Our longest conversation ever!

We walked back into the living room. Karen stopped abruptly in the doorway. Looking over her shoulder, I saw Missy hugging Mike. It was more than a friendship hug. Mike's right hand was rubbing the top of Missy's ass. His left hand couldn't be seen, but it was somewhere on her front. Karen said loudly, "Now that's what I call a hug."

Mike looked up guiltily and stepped away from Missy. I noticed that his breath was short and Missy's face was flushed a bright red.

"Am I interrupting something?" Karen asked rather strongly. Mike muttered, "Just a friendly hug between friends." Missy looked at Karen and said, "For god's sake, Girlfriend. Can't your best friend hug your husband?" Karen's face relaxed somewhat. "Kind of like one of the hugs that J.P. would like to give you?" she smiled.

We all chuckled. J.P. was a guy at work who was absolutely smitten with Missy. It was sort of a joke. He was a nerdy type, though nice, and he went out of his way to cater to the every need of Missy. Missy was not especially sensitive to his feelings and took every opportunity to flame his advances. She looked at Karen. " I think J.P. wants more than a hug. That's what makes rejecting him so much fun. I'll bet he jacks off every night thinking about me...poor guy." Everybody laughed, and Karen took Mike's arm, gave a queer stare, and they said farewell.

I noticed as Mike left, he gave a backward glance to Missy that was different from any I had seen him give her. I didn't notice her response, though, because the conversation about J. P. had given me a very evil idea. Missy had told me on more than one occasion that J.P. was a jerk, but she liked to give him an occasional flirtatious look and keep him hanging. She absolutely tormented the poor guy. I told Missy to get her coat on while I made one quick phone call. The call took a bit longer than I had anticipated, and when I returned Missy was ready at the door. We got in the car and headed for Franklin's.

On our way to Franklin's, I asked Missy what had happened with Mike. She replied that she had flirted with him a little, asking him how he liked her in the dress. She said she had coyly put her hands behind her back like a schoolgirl and this made her breasts, and the prominent nipples, stick out even more. Mike had surprised her when he said, "It makes me want to touch you." Missy had tried to defuse the remark and said, " Well, let me give you a hug." She had reached out to give him a friendly hug, as she had done so many times before.

This time, Mike had surprised her. As she approached him, he took her two hands and put them behind her back, then held them securely with his left hand. He took his free right hand and slowly moved it towards her breast. Missy said that she did not try to free her hands.

Then Mike cupped his hand over her breast. He squeezed her breast then pulled his hand away. Then he gently scraped his fingernails over the very tip of her nipples, teasing first one and then the other. Of all the nipple maneuvers in the world, this one drives Missy the craziest. Still using his right hand, Mike then tweaked her nipples, again alternately, and it drove Missy crazy.