Mercy! My sexual fantasy life will never be the same after reading your letter about three married couples who shed all inhibitions while on an island in the Caribbean. I never thought I would read a letter about a man watching his wife suck his friends’ cock while their own wives looked on with wondrous delight. It was such an outrageous scene — these were real people, really doing these far-out erotic things!

How can I describe what a wildfire you kindled within the heart of my mind’s VCR? I was so turned on, I masturbated to a joyful climax even before finishing that letter. Three times that night my erection woke me, demanding that my mind’s VCR replay that scene. The next morning, my hand again hugged my cock as my mind hugged erotic thoughts of those sex-loving couples.

I’m forty-two years old, self-employed and happily married. I am both emotional and passionate. I wept with joy at the time of my first erotic kiss. And in one “afternoon delight,” I so fully gave myself to my wife in sexual intercourse that I swooned with pleasure.

I consider myself committed to monogamy. I love my darling wife so much — but I do let my imagination wander at will through my fantasies. And I must admit that one time, her panties practically took over as a new, demanding lover in my life. I walked into our bedroom one day when she was out, and there they were. Pretty, solid-pink, all-nylon panties topped the neat pile of her underwear, almost making my heart stop.

On a bold impulse, I seized the panties, dashed into the bathroom and locked the door. Jerking down my pants, I wrapped the double-fabric crotch of my wife’s underpants around my penis with my right hand. I covered my left hand with one of the side panels as I moved it up and down the sensitive underside of my erection. Within a few seconds, I realized I was going to ejaculate, so I let the panties dangle close to my body and tickle my balls.

As I stood with urgent desire, both hands whipped my penis to pump out the creamy fluid which shot forth. I cleaned myself and hastily returned the dainty undergarment to its proper place, safe and spotless. I knew that if my lovely wife ever discovered the use her undies had been put to, her face would blush the same shade of pink as the panties! Until just recently, she never knew the ninety second “high” her panties gave me.

The fact that my wife often falls asleep after our lovemaking I consider a tribute to the way I treat her in our passion. I have fond memories of the blissful way she looks in her nude and satiated repose. One time I was on top of her, resting, after we had both enjoyed a gentle climax. After a few minutes, I shifted a little as if to roll off her, but her hands at my rib cage tightened to hold me in place. Well, I can read body language even from a “sleeping beauty,” so I stayed in that position another five minutes until she allowed me to roll over onto my back.

Another time we were in a sweet sixty-nine, and there is a “still shot” in my mental camera-bank showing the fingers of both her hands sheathing the length and circumference of my penis, her lips curled gently around the head as she peacefully drifted off to sleep.

Sixty-nine is a favorite activity for both of us, sometimes as an appetizer, sometimes as the main course, and almost never a planned activity. I remember one time her climax came so suddenly that in her excitement she let my cock slip out of her mouth, which resulted in most of the ejaculate spilling onto the lower half of her face, her neck and her shoulders (we nearly always sixty-nine man on top). As I turned around to see, I was completely smitten when I looked into her pleasure-filled eyes and discovered her cheeks coated with my glaze.

As her eyes focused, she smiled shyly and with a nod indulged a special desire of mine to see her lick the gloss off her face. No words passed between us; none were necessary. Her eyes gave me all the thanks I required. A couple of hours later, however, as she rode beside me in the car, she whispered that my smell still clung to her upper body. This delighted us both.

One last marital intimacy I just have to share before I close. We were in the bedroom, and the love of my life was drying herself after taking a shower I was on my knees, lapping at each breast in turn while stimulating the other one with my hand. We moved toward the bed and I began to progress downward, guided by an old, familiar desire. My lips found their place between her legs, which she parted slightly to allow my tongue better access to her delicious pussy.

Soon her knees gave way and she fell back onto our bed, stretching out full-length. I climbed onto the bed, got between her legs and resumed my feast. By now she was sighing and writhing. I was licking languidly, so she asked me if I was tired. I replied, “Not at all,” and maneuvered myself around until I was straddling her in a sixty-nine position. Now I “muff-dived” upside down as I straightened my body, my feet braced against the wall behind me, and buried my face in her pussy.

As she panted, “More, more, deeper, deeper,” I accommodated her as best I could. Soon I was literally climbing the wall to please her, trying my utmost to go deeper and harder and faster. My head was now at a forty-five-degree angle to the bed, my feet forty-five degrees to the wall, with my legs on either side of her head. My wife could not resist raising her head to suck my cock as her climax neared. My gracious, who would have imagined that lovemaking might require standing on your head?

When my wife got her breath back, she commented, “Wherever did you learn to do that?” I truthfully responded, “I just now thought it up.” Then my honey suggested that if we were ever again going to try such an athletic sixty-nine, we would both certainly have to work out more with weights.

As you can see, I have an active and varied fantasy life. But even better is the real life that I share with my one-and-only.

Typing this letter was almost as difficult as writing the first draft, since my dear wife kept looking over my shoulder as I typed, every once in a while, asking me to stop to make love to her. Isn’t it a hard life sometimes?