An ordinary pickle jar becomes a cornucopia of forbidden pleasures for a happily married couple.

On the counter in our kitchen sits a jar that holds little slips of paper, some blue, some pink. It looks like an ordinary jar, but to my husband, Fred, and me, it is a special jar. For on the slips of paper are written our sexual fantasies. Once a month a fantasy is withdrawn from the jar and acted out — often with spectacular results.

Fred and I married quite young. We were right out of school and both virgins when we tied the knot. I know it seems unusual in this day and age, but he is the only man I’ve ever had, and I am the only woman he’s ever made love to. We are very much in love with each other, and for most of the first ten years of our marriage, our sex life was quite satisfactory. Then we attended our tenth high-school reunion, and things changed.

Each of us encountered a former love interest who sparked intense curiosity. I was reunited with Jack, the class clown who desperately wanted to go out with me in those days. I dated him a few times but never gave him more than a goodnight kiss. Now I was looking at him in a different light: a funny, handsome man with a beautiful wife. I couldn’t help but wonder what it would have been like to have slept with him.

I noticed that Fred was spending quite a bit of time with Yolanda, his girlfriend before I came along. On the drive home he was a bit distracted, so·I·asked him if he was thinking about his old flame. He shook his head, but I was unconvinced.

When we got home and got into bed, I felt compelled to ask a question that had been nagging at me a long time. “Fred, does it ever bother you that you haven’t slept with any other women besides me?” I knew it would be hard for him to answer, so I went on. “I’ll admit to you, sweetheart,” I said, “that there are times when I wonder what another man would be like, and I know you regret never seducing Yolanda. You were eyeing her and everybody could see it.”

He finally admitted that he was curious about other women, but he steadfastly insisted that he would never cheat on me. I told him that I would never cheat on him, either. As we drifted off to sleep, I came up with a way for us to experience the variety we desired without compromising our marital vows.

Come morning I told Fred my idea, my enthusiasm bubbling over. He couldn’t help but catch my excitement, and I set about making it a reality. I cleaned out a big pickle jar and set it out to dry, then found some gift-wrapping paper-blue for Fred, pink for me. I cut out several note-size pieces and gave the blue pieces to Fred. “Write down any kind of sexual fantasy you’ve ever wanted to have come true,” I told him. “It could be anything. Visiting a prostitute, having sex with a cheerleader, anything. I’ll do the same. Then, one night a month, we’ll draw a fantasy out of the jar, and that will be the one we enact. ”

Fred smiled devilishly, wrote down a couple of them very quickly and dropped them into the jar. “As I think of more, I’ll add to the pile,” he said, laughing.

When it came time to write mine, I went blank. What kinds of thrills was I looking for? It was difficult to get myself in the proper frame of mind. So I went to work (I teach history at the local college) and when I got home at three in the afternoon, I made myself a hot bubble bath and just floated off into my own personal fantasyland. I began to conjure up the images that most turned me on and ended up masturbating right in the tub. But now I had several ideas for the jar.

I scribbled them down, folded them into tiny squares and dropped them in. It was exciting to think of making fantasies come true, but it made me a little nervous at the same time; I would be revealing a part of myself that Fred had never seen. What would be his reaction?

The day of reckoning came soon enough. Fred insisted that because the jar was my idea, I should get my fantasy first. He opened the jar and slowly fished around for a pink piece of paper. Opening it slowly, he read aloud: “I’m the teacher, and you’re my student.” He looked me straight in the eye and grinned.

I must admit that during slow times in class, I often look out over my male students and picture how they would look naked: I think about how big and thick their cocks are and picture their faces between my thighs as they lick my pussy. Of course, nothing will ever come of it. Occasionally a student gets a crush on me and I have to delicately ward him off, but I often masturbate with the image of one of those students in my mind.

Quickly Fred and I worked out the details. It was a Saturday afternoon. I would go to my office at school and wait for him. He would come to me and pretend he was one of my students, and things would progress from there. Everything was going to be spontaneous. I could hardly wait!

I got to my office and sat behind my desk, with my hair pulled back in a bun and my rimless eyeglasses perched on my nose. I started grading papers with a big red pen. I got so deep into my part that when Fred knocked at the door, I had almost forgotten that he was coming.

When I let him in, I almost laughed out loud. He was wearing his letter sweater. In his day, Fred was a big-time jock at school, excelling in football and basketball. He’s a big fellow, six-four and two hundred and thirty pounds or so, and could have had his pick of the school. Instead he went out with me, the so-called “brainiac.” Now here he was, standing before me in his faded sweater, a sheepish expression on his face.

“Please come in, Fred,” I said, trying my best to keep a professional tone.

“Thanks for taking the time to see me, ma’am,” he said, his deep baritone respectfully subdued.

He sat in my guest chair. “Of course, Fred,” I said. “W hat can I do for you?”

“Well,” he said, “you know that I can’t stay on the team unless I maintain a C average. And I’m afraid I dropped below a C after I got a D from you last semester.” I looked at him coolly, but my pussy was beginning to burn. I couldn’t wait to hear what came next.

“If you’ve come to try to change my mind about your grade, I’m afraid you’ve come in vain,” I said.

“But you don’t understand,” he said, acting his part with skill. “Football is my life!”

“You should have thought about that during the school year. You’re certainly capable of passing my class. You just didn’t work hard enough.”

The look on Fred’s face was priceless. From where I sat I could see his erection creating a sizable lump in his pants. “You’re right, and I don’t think you should change my grade just because I ask you to. I was wondering if there was any extra-credit work I could do to bump my grade up.”

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs so that he could see plenty of thigh. “Oh, I could probably think of some ‘extra credit’ you could do for me, Fred,” I said. “Stand up.” He stood up slowly, his large frame towering above me. I regarded his body as though I were seeing it for the first time. “Tum around,” I continued. He began to blush as he turned, knowing that I was staring at his nice buns. “Now I want you to strip.”

Fred shot a look back at me, his face crimson with embarrassment. He was so into the part that he forgot for a moment that I was his wife. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I want you buck naked. You’ve got one minute, or forget the whole thing and your grade stays the way it is.” Fred slowly removed his sweater and shirt, revealing his broad chest, which is covered with downy blond hair. Studying his exquisite physique, I nearly lost my breath. He had used the years wisely and enhanced his powerful figure. Eventually he was down to his underwear. He paused and looked at me, his eyes wide.

“I said ‘naked,’ Fred,” I scolded. Down came his jockeys, and his mighty cock stood tall. I stood and circled him, as though I were appraising a champion racehorse at auction. “You’re quite a specimen, young man,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, his voice snick in his throat.

I cleared my desk of its papers and pens and sat upon it, kicking off my shoes. I hoisted my skirt and pulled down my panties. Fred’s eyes nearly doubled in size. “There’s a new unit in this course. If you get a good grade on it, you might pass my class. On your knees, Fred.”

My husband dropped to his knees in a trance. He lowered his face between my thighs and tentatively applied his tongue to my fleshy folds. He groaned and told me that I tasted good. I merely smiled and touched the back of his head, urging him on. I then closed my eyes and threw my head back, picturing in my mind one of my students feasting on my creaming pussy. Fred had never eaten me better, his tongue skillfully darting in, out and around my pussy. I tightened my legs around his head and squeezed as I came.

“A plus!” I congratulated him, catching my breath and stroking his thick blond hair. “Let me give you a gold star.” I hopped off the desk and had him take my place. His darkly suffused cock stuck straight up out of his lap. I removed my glasses and took the pins out of my hair, shaking it loose so that it fell around my shoulders. I then took off my blouse and bra, revealing my breasts to Fred’s gaze. Bending over, I rubbed my tits on Fred’s huge thighs, my nipples hardening into small pebbles. I then kissed my way up his legs from his knees to the upper-most portion of his thighs, occasionally taking time out to compliment him. “You’re such a beautiful sight, Fred.” I came close to his cock, my mouth only inches away. My hot breath made it dance in anticipation. “Your cock is magnificent. How many girls have you tantalized with this piece of equipment?”

My husband actually blushed and said, “None. I’ve never done this before.”

I loved this touch! Fred and I had deflowered each other some ten years before, and it had not been smooth. Now we had a chance to reenact it with one of us as experienced instructor.

“Well, it’s about time you found out what it feels like,” I said before swooping down on his dick with my tongue while, at the same time, my fingers nimbly caressed his balls. Fred was so into his part that he came only a few minutes into my blowjob.

We had both had powerful orgasms, perhaps the most powerful of our marriage, but as I looked at him sitting on my desk, his unfailing cock still hard, I knew I didn’t want this fantasy to end so quickly. “Get your clothes on,” I told him. “I’m taking you home with me. We’re going to spend the rest of this weekend in a private tutorial. We’ll work you up to a four-point in no time.” And after the marathon lovemaking session that ensued, with me mostly on top pounding down on his unflagging erection, Fred more than earned that A.

Four weekends came and went in the blink of an eye, and one Friday morning at breakfast, Fred reminded me that it was his turn to have a fantasy come true. I smiled and went to get the jar. I had no idea what kind of sexual dreams he had, but I was about to find out.

I unfolded the slip of paper. “You will be my love slave for the entire weekend,” I read aloud. I looked at Fred, who was beaming. Clearly he had been hoping to draw this particular piece of paper.

“When you come home from work this afternoon,” he began, “there will be a set of instructions for you. Follow them to the letter and we will have such a good time that seismologists everywhere will think the epicenter of an earthquake is right in our bedroom.” I simply stared at him, shocked that he had entertained such a fantasy, since I’d thought of it myself privately many times.

I couldn’t concentrate all day. My students must have wondered what was wrong with their teacher. When I got home, I approached the front door tentatively, not entirely sure of what I would find there. The house was empty and eerily quiet. On the dining room table were a few boxes and a simple white envelope on which was written “Laurie” in Fred’s hand. I opened it, my hands quivering, and held my breath as I read it.

“Dear Laurie, the first thing you will do is strip naked and take a long, hot bath. I have left some vanilla-scented soap for you to use, and I want you to make sure you thoroughly clean yourself, as I will be personal] y exploring every inch of you. Then you will shave every bit of hair from your pussy.” Not long after we were married, Fred had asked me to do this and I had laughed at him. I had heard no more on the subject since then. “You will then dress in the clothing in the boxes before you.”

I stopped reading for a moment to examine the contents of the boxes. In a shoe box were a pair of white pumps I had bought years before for a lark and had rarely worn because they were just a bit too dramatic for my taste. Inside pink tissue in the other box was a complete outfit with everything in white: a chemise, silk crotchless panties trimmed with lace, a garter belt, silk stockings and a white leather collar.

I held the lingerie in my hands and tried to reason out Fred’s fantasy. How long had it been since I had worn items like these? At work I wore the tailored, pin-striped look of a “corporate woman.” In my free time I was usually in jeans and a sweatshirt. Fred obviously wanted to see me in a sexy outfit but had been too concerned about hurting my feelings to say so. I held the soft material of the chemise to my face and realized that Fred must have purchased these items with great care, for they were all of the highest quality. I resolved right then to be the best love slave my man could ever want.

I finished reading his instructions. “I will be home at eight o’clock sharp. I expect to find you in the center of the living room on your knees, with your hands folded in your lap and your eyes cast downward. For the rest of the evening, you will obey every one of my commands. You will also not look me in the eye, nor will you address me as anything but ‘Sir.’ See you at eight.”

I put down his note, nearly dizzy with anticipation of what this night would bring. I dreamily followed my husband’s instructions. I took a luxurious bath and then shaved my pussy bald. It was quite a project, actually. I got so turned on doing this that I had to finger myself to orgasm. I didn’t doubt that it would be the first of many I would have that evening. I brushed my hair until it shone like never before, and then I slipped into the lingerie, which made me feel like a new woman.

The clock struck eight and I heard Fred’s car in the driveway. I hurried to my position, but not before taking a quick look at myself in the mirror. I knew that I was going to knock his socks off.

When he entered through the front door, I just had to look up at him, and I discovered that it was he who was knocking my socks off. He was completely in black: A bomber jacket, a turtleneck, jeans and hobnailed boots were his wardrobe. I looked up into his steely blue eyes, and he shook his finger at me. I immediately looked down. Silently he approached me, and then circled my prone form. “Very nice,” he said softly. Then he pulled a chain leash from his jacket and clipped it to my collar. Tugging at the chain, he got me to my feet and led me into the bedroom as if I were a dog.

Unhooking the leash, Fred ordered me to lie down on the bed. I did so, reveling in the exhilarating sensation of surrendering myself completely to this strong, handsome man dressed in black. He then produced four silken cords, which he used to bind my hands and feet to the bedposts. This accomplished, he sat between my legs and examined my pussy.

“Excellent, Laurie. I’ve always wanted to see you with a shaved cunt. You’ve done a fine job.”

“Thank you, sir,” I said meekly. Fred then fingered my pussy with his callous fingers, alternating between lightly tapping my clitoris to shoving practically his whole hand inside me. I was utterly wild, pulling on my bonds as I squirmed on the bed. He abruptly stopped and untied the bow at the side of my panties and pulled them free of me. Moving his face close to my cunt, he blew gently on my inflamed clitoris, nearly sending me through the roof. But before I could come, he stopped again.

Standing before me, he slowly stripped. Once naked, he straddled me and thrust his rock-hard cock into my face. My tongue strained to lap at his hardness. He then grabbed my hair and put his cock in my mouth and fucked my face. I was merely a receptacle for his lust, and I enjoyed every minute of it. Never had I taken his cock deeper down my throat. After a few minutes, he pulled out and soaked my face with his semen. I lapped up as much as of it as I could, but most of it remained on my face.

Fred clambered off the bed and returned his attention to my pussy. I watched in fascination as he took a feather out of his jacket pocket. Slowly he ran it up and down the insides of my thighs, making me shriek with laughter. Then he pulled the chemise up to my armpits and tickled my ribs and breasts with the diabolical plume. When I began to think I couldn’t stand any more, he stopped.

Then he lowered his mouth to my pussy, and this time he didn’t stop short. His expert tongue snaked up inside me and he ate me out like a champion. Still, whenever I neared orgasm, he stopped, practically bringing me to tears four or five times. On the last occasion of this torture, he rose above me, pointing his cock at my cunt as though it were a spear. He then drove it home, lodging himself securely within me in one thrust.

With all his strength, he thrust into me, and after just a few minutes, I felt as though a dam within me had burst. I came so hard I saw stars and cried out. Fred continued his assault Jong enough for me to come again just as powerfully.

Fred stopped and withdrew. He untied me. “Roll over,” he commanded. I obeyed, and he shoved a pillow under my hips to elevate my bottom. When he began lubricating my anus, I knew what was about to happen. This was another thing Fred had wanted years before, but after one unenthusiastic attempt on my part, we had not tried it again.

Fred leaned over and whispered into my ear. “I’ve wanted to fuck your ass for the longest time. I’m going to shove every inch of my cock all the way up your tight asshole. What do you think?”

“I would love it, sir,” I whispered.

I was expecting excruciating pain, but for some reason his cock just popped inside me as though it had always belonged there. And when he began fucking me, I began humping my ass back to meet his thrusts. I buried my face in my pillow, my cries of pleasure muffled as he repeatedly slammed his cock home.

The rest of that weekend, I catered to my husband’s every whim. We both had more orgasms than we could count. Once Monday morning rolled around, everything went back to normal. Fred said that his desire to control me had evaporated for the time being, though he might fill out a similar slip of paper in the near future. Meanwhile, every month has brought new and thrilling surprises for both of us. I’m sure he’ll be very surprised and quite turned-on when he draws the one calling for me to use a strap-on dildo to steal his anal virginity.