As long as he could recall, they’d “confessed” their secrets to one another — and he’d shared his secret sexual fantasies.

My lifelong fantasy object has been my childhood neighbor Shari, an exquisite mix of Caucasian, Malayan and who knows what other bloodlines who lived next door to us. She developed into a true head turner, with dark hair, a beautiful face, big dark eyes set against delicate features, and alabaster skin. She has a lovely figure, and the subtle, graceful swing of her hips when she walks unmistakably signals passion in check awaiting release.

My fantasizing started when Shari was finishing high school and grew through the years, and it has intensified to compel a daily viewing through the windows of my mind. There was always a strong sexual current between us — we would flirt, “confess” our thoughts and feelings about our dates, tell each other of our sexual experiences, etc.

In the past several years, although living more than a thousand miles apart, we remained in constant touch by telephone, and as our “confessions” continued, it seemed only natural for me to tell Shari of my fantasies. She would listen intently and occasionally help along with the scenarios I described in graphic detail (even after I admitted that my wild and passionate partner in these imaginary interludes was her), but she did not reciprocate with her own fantasies. This continued until I finally decided to accept her invitation to spend my vacation with her and her husband.

Shari married an excellent medical doctor, Max, a good-looking light-skinned Spanish hunk. Although she helps run the business side of his medical practice, she has enough time to pursue her own interests, painting and serious photography. She met me at the airport, and one look at her — beautiful, self-assured, and delicious — gave me an instant erection. We hugged and lightly kissed, broke apart, mumbled greetings and then walked to her car.

The silence that pervaded the early part of the drive to Shari and Max’s home, punctuated by glances with smiles when our eyes met, was broken when she touched my hand and started talking about family things. I clasped her hand and did not let it go until we reached our destination — a sprawling, well-designed single-story house with touches of Spanish architecture, equipped with amenities such as swimming pool, sauna and tennis court, all nicely arranged on an isolated, exquisitely landscaped ten-acre lot. The landscaping afforded privacy to the pool and tennis court.

Shari showed me my room to deposit my luggage, then took me on a tour of the house, lingering in her spacious studio, well-equipped for both photography and painting. Since it was late morning, we were alone. Max would not be home until early evening.

Shari challenged me to a set of tennis, which I lost, distracted by her lovely legs and jiggling breasts and hampered by a raging erection. She never let on whether she noticed my discomfort. Sweating from tennis, she proposed a session in the sauna. Her suggestion barely registered because I was only about two feet from her, staring at her nipples through the wet shirt and getting intoxicated with her pheromones.

Shari excused herself and returned in a flash in just a towel wrap. She handed me a towel, and I followed her — clothes off, towel on — into the sauna. We talked more, but I found my eyes and thoughts insistently drifting to her legs. She was sitting with them together — raised, knees bent, feet tucked against her buttocks, which were showing below the towel’s edge. I was facing her — cross-legged, towel covering my crotch.

All Shari had to do was part her legs a little and my vision of heaven would be revealed, but she did not. However, this time she could not possibly miss the tent my erection made with the towel; if she looked, I never noticed. Looking into her large, dark brown eyes or at her legs caused my pulse to race and ensured a continued erection.

Then it was time to shower, in two open stalls side by side next to the sauna. Shari simply took the towel off and stepped in one shower, and there for me to see was the body I had so frequently dreamed about. I used the other shower, also naked, with my raging erection now in full view. After showering, we helped towel each other off, and just before she turned and walked to the kitchen, she gave my penis a gentle pat and broke into a half-smile.

Like Shari, I left my towel behind and followed her totally naked to the kitchen, where she quickly prepared sandwiches for us. We ate in silence, with my erection still in full rage and in full view. She was sitting on a stool facing me, with her legs raised and sufficiently separated for me to see that her clitoris and labia were swollen and that telltale signs of advanced wetness were clearly visible.

We ate the sandwiches gazing at each other’s eyes most of the time. When we finished, Shari took me back to her studio. There she put on some slow dance music, then turned to me, took a long look at my erection and looked in my eyes and said, “Shall we dance?” I pulled her to me, nestled my penis between her legs against her vagina and started the slowest dance of my life. Thus began a pas de deux that went on for ten days.

For ten minutes we hardly moved. We just looked in each other’s eyes, our bodies learning to feel as one, as if bonded by our heat and passion, responsive to every desire or slight movement.

Shari ran her tongue across her lips and whispered, “Your fantasies?”

I thought I knew what she meant (it was only later that I learned the full scope of those words) and began by nibbling kisses on her lips, face, ears, neck, then returning to her lips. I traced the underside of her upper lip with my tongue, then moved again, kissing from one part of her face to another, in no particular order, simply feeling the sweep of the moment. When I returned to her lips, her mouth was open. We kissed passionately, our lips devouring and tongues lashing at each other, as if we were at once drawing life from and breathing life into each other.

As the kissing became more intense and prolonged, our hands moved all over each other — lightly, caressingly, urgently, hungrily. With Shari still standing there, legs slightly apart, I explored every inch of her body with kisses while moving my fingers lightly, barely touching her skin. I covered her body with kisses, lingering on her breasts, nipples, navel, neck, ears and the end of her spine. My fingers, yearning to touch every pore of her skin, moved in contra tempo to my heartbeat. Her body quivered as she ran her fingers through my hair, intermittently emitting guttural sounds of pleasure.

I lowered Shari onto the divan and covered every square millimeter of her body with kisses and light caresses. It was apparently to good effect, as she moved to meet every insinuation of my body, limbs and lips.

Finally, I concentrated on her vagina, her swollen labia and her erect clitoris, alternating between light, gentle movements to furious flicking of the tongue and lip suction. Kissing, drinking, eating, licking, sucking — all these images rolled into the singular experience of giving Shari the pleasure I had so long visualized in my fantasies.

How wet she was! How tangy her cream! And how pleasingly she tingled to every movement of my tongue and lips! On and on I feasted at the entrance of paradise. Shari, as in my fantasy, was in heaven, only now everything was real — the touch, the mewling sounds, the screaming. I was with her in heaven!

Shari became very vocal in expressing her continuous super sexual excitement, which inspired in me even greater resolve to prolong the experience. She seemed to be in a state of erotic bliss, and I was determined to make it last forever.

She held my head firmly in place and ground her hips as my moving lips and flicking tongue were constantly on target. My jaws were getting tired, but I pressed on, with Shari screaming and her body quivering and shuddering. I continued my feast while feeling the glowing heat of her body, sometimes slowing down the action to concentrate on light kisses and tongue motions.

I raised my head to look at Shari’s face. She was in another world, with a glazed look. Then she looked at me and smiled. I saw her heaving breasts, and that started me on a slow journey of kisses from her labia up her stomach, up and down and around her breasts, twirling her nipples with my tongue, to her neck and finally her waiting lips. We kissed gently and lingeringly, as if wishing each contact would last forever.

I had moved my bent legs so one was on each side of Shari’s buttocks. Her legs were split wide, each over my thigh with the knee bent and the foot planted outside my leg. In this position my raging erection was poised at the entrance of my paradise. I felt the wet, swollen labia against the head of my penis and rubbed it lightly against her clitoris. With a little pressure the head was in, and I held it there while we continued kissing ever so gently.

Shari had her hands on my back, and moved them slowly down my spine. When they reached my buttocks, she flattened her palms against my cheeks. She moved them in a caressing motion and positioned her vagina to take in more of my penis head. She was in no hurry to have all of my erection in her, and I was in no rush to sheathe it to the hilt either. Finally, she looked deeply in my eyes and, while opening her mouth, very slowly pulled my buttocks into her thrusting hips until my penis was completely sheathed. She kissed me with that open mouth.

While returning her kiss, I held my hips very still, with my penis still buried to the hilt, enfolded by her velvety folds. I began squeezing my buttocks, making my engorged member rub against her cervix area. In response, Shari held my head and intensified her kisses, which I returned hungrily.

For about ten minutes this is all I did, varying the cadence of the squeezing action while keeping my penis buried as far as our pelvic bones would allow. Through all of it, I felt Shari’s body heat rising as she rose to and reached the first climax of this chain, her vaginal muscles squeezing my penis convulsively. Finally she broke the kiss slowly and whispered “How is reality?”

To which I only smiled. We kissed longingly, then kissed again.

As I began slow, long strokes, I had one obsession: to last as long as any man possibly could. Given my highly excited state, there was only one way to do it — as I approached threshold, I would stop and concentrate on caressing and kissing — her lips, her nipples, her breasts, her ears. The very wet, pulsing folds of her vagina felt utterly heavenly, and wonderful on my penis. The feeling was enhanced by the squeezing action and the heat.

Yes, this can only be heaven. With each stroke I felt heaven, and as one stroke led to another, I stayed in heaven. As we climbed from one plateau to another, I kept shifting leg positions to change angle and depth of penetration, and I continually varied the speed of the stroke. Every time I approached climax, I would stop and Shari would protest but understood that we were rising from one plateau to another. Our bodies were becoming one in purpose and spirit even as I shifted from one position to another.

Occasionally, we would look at ourselves through the wall mirrors in her studio — the glistening penis moving in and out, perspiration building up, the two bodies working against yet with and for each other. Our eyes would meet; then we would smile and kiss, hungrily or tenderly, depending on the moment. Shari rose from one climax to another as we went on and on between pauses and I strove mightily to control my release.

It felt as though Shari was enveloping all of me, cocooned by silk-velvet and covered with glowing heat, flowing cream and delicious heavenly flesh. I was lost in a sea of intensely pleasurable sensations as my hips continued to move to meet hers.

Again she got very vocal about her pleasure releases as we went on and on. Finally she looked into my eyes and, without a word, seemed to say it was time. Taking her cue, I placed her legs over my shoulders and bent my body so we could kiss wetly and wildly as I began my climax run with slow, long, driven-to-the-hilt strokes.

I varied the angle of almost every move as I sought good leverage and maximum penetration. The heat and cream emanated from heaven as she was helplessly and wantonly open to me, compelling me to speed up — and I did, to the limit.

As she screamed and continued to announce her pleasure thusly while milking my penis with her convulsing vaginal muscles, I rushed to my climax like a runaway train. It was so intense, I almost blacked out. Our arms were tight around each other as we kissed on the descent from our peak.

While I recovered my breath, I was amazed to see that my penis was getting hard again! Shari broke into a grin and suggested we move to the bedroom. We disentangled and walked there as fast as our wobbly legs could manage. In the bedroom we copulated with abandon, mixing in a generous amount of oral sex — three solid hours interrupted only by short pauses to catch our breath.

During one of our rests late in the afternoon, Max called to say that he was flying to Chicago and would not be back for ten days. It became ten days of pure heaven when Shari undertook to act out every scenario in my fantasies. She remembered everything I had told her.

Except for trips to the supermarket, we spent the whole time naked, making love all over the house and in choice spots outside it — like the garden and the swimming pool. One moment our coupling was tender; the next moment it was raw animal lust.

The evening of the tenth day found Shari and me in the middle of a languid sex session. She was lovingly fellating my penis to revival. I was so entranced that my eyes were closed, while she was on all fours with her buttocks near the edge of the bed. All of a sudden her vagina was being penetrated from behind! She dropped my penis from her mouth and gasped, then turned quickly to see Max behind her, driving his penis into her. Unbeknownst to us, he had returned from Chicago and showered, and had been watching us for some time.

Shari turned back to my penis and resumed her ministrations. I had opened my eyes to see what happened, and now saw a grinning Max greeting me with a wave of his hand. He increased the tempo of his strokes, and my penis jerked to full attention, causing Shari to gag a little on her downstroke. Thus began a sexual pas de trois that lasted most of the night.

Eventually Shari fell asleep in Max’s arms, and I, not knowing what to make of it all, slipped out quietly and made my way to the guest room. I didn’t think I would fall asleep, but I did, though I didn’t feel terribly rested when I woke up a little before noon.

I was in no hurry to rejoin Shari and Max, not understanding what had happened last night — or the whole ten days, really. All that time I was in heaven with Shari, I’d thought about Max. What would he say about all this? But I was afraid to say anything to Shari.

I had to wonder, did Shari and Max have some sort of “arrangement”? Or was their marriage maybe in trouble? After last night I was still confused, but more inclined to the “arrangement” theory. Looking back, I even began to wonder if the whole thing had been a setup, bringing me here so just what happened would happen. I wondered if Max had even been to Chicago! I even began to think where they might have had cameras and microphones hidden to record the whole thing!

Still, I couldn’t be sure Max was okay with what had gone on between Shari and me these past ten days. Or did he even know? Maybe last night he just got caught up in the passion of the moment. He might still indignantly order me out of his house.

Finally I showered and threw on shorts and a T-shirt and headed for the kitchen, hoping to score a cup of coffee before facing my hosts — only to find them at the butcher-block table, sipping coffee and munching on rolls.

“Ah, sleepyhead,” Shari said. “Pour yourself a cup of coffee and join us.”

As I approached the table, I set my coffee down and held out my hand to Max, saying, “Hi, I’m Jake.” He grinned and shook my hand, saying, “How do you do, Jake? I’m Max.”

Shari burst out laughing. I still didn’t know what kind of arrangement she and Max had, but it was clear that he was okay with whatever he knew about what had happened.

When Shari started talking about my fantasies, I got a little nervous. Sure enough, she went on to say how much fun she had had living out my fantasies. Max seemed okay with this, and the next thing I knew, I was telling them the things I had been imagining before I came downstairs — that they had planned for me to spend those ten days making love to Shari, that Max had never been to Chicago, that they had video-recorded the whole thing.

Shari burst out laughing again. “I wish we’d thought of that! Your imagination is so much better than mine!”

Max chuckled too. “I wish I didn’t go to Chicago. That trip exhausted me.”

“Well, you sure didn’t seem exhausted last night,” Shari said.

Afraid of saying the wrong thing, I said nothing. I just sat there wondering, what happens now? Were we going to continue having three-way sex?

I still don’t know if I could have made it happen, but it didn’t. I had a lovely time the rest of my stay, and felt closer and closer to Shari and Max, but if there was an opening to renew sexual relations, I guess I missed it.

But when they drove me to the airport to catch my flight home, Shari said, “We’ve had such a wonderful time, you have to come back soon!” What did she mean by that? I don’t know for sure, but I can tell you I’ve already booked my flights.