Collaborative sex stories let us write the plot together

(Her Secret Fantasy, continued by k.kikkiriccio...)

A few seconds into the walk toward your car, Rachel breaks the silence. “Next time? Oh, I see… so she automatically assumes there will be a next time?”

“Well, I took it as a proposition, a tease, not an assumption,” you say.

“We might not even want a ‘next time’”. She looks at you, and you can’t help but smile big. “Ohhh, you really would, wouldn’t you?”

“Well, of course, I mean, I’d want there to be a next time. But…”

“But what?”

“Well, seriously.” You stop and look into her eyes, grabbing her hands. “Of course I enjoyed myself. And she did too.” After a pause, you add, “and… you did too, you said so.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Hold on, I’m not finished. This was your fantasy. I totally respect that, and if you want it to be a one-time thing, or a gateway toward something else, I’m cool with that. I’m not going to go around assuming you’ll let me have sex with other women just because of this one time. I never expected to have sex with someone else, and if this was just a fun thing for once, then okay. If it’s two months or two years or never, that’s fine. I won’t ever push you.”

“Hmmm, okay,” she says. “I’m not upset, I’m not jealous — I just feel things that I didn’t think I’d feel, like wondering how you’re going to act from now on.”

“I’ll try not to act differently. Not promising, but I’ll try. And I won’t promise to never bring it up again, but I do promise I’ll never push you or make you feel uncomfortable.”

She kisses you. “Thank you. I think that’s all I want to know.” She kisses you again.

As you walk toward the car, hand in hand, she blurts out, “but, I gotta admit… that was pretty hot.” You laugh with her. “And, just so you know, I’m not ruling out a ‘next time’. But maybe that’s just because I’m kind of turned on right now.”

Rachel is pretty flirty on the ride home, but neither of you mention anything about Elania. You want to make sure you are paying attention primarily to your girlfriend, not talking about someone else. When you get home, the flirtiness continues, but it is getting late so the two of you get ready for bed pretty soon, washing your faces, brushing your teeth and flossing, the normal stuff. But not quite in the normal way. You see, when Rachel gets out of her clothes, she doesn’t put anything else on. You just have on your boxers, but she’s completely naked as she walks around and does her thing. This is pretty unusual — she’s not typically modest around you by any stretch, but she usually has something cute on, not nothing. She must be really turned on from the show she got earlier, and it’s turning you on too, giving you a half-boner every few minutes. You don’t know if you’ll be up for whatever it is she’s got in mind, but you’ll certainly give it a go.

“Oh shit,” Rachel says, just as you are just about to jump into bed with her. “I think the roast is still out on the counter thawing.”

You look at each other and she bats her eyelashes at you. You’re not dumb — you get the hint. “I’ll go put it in the fridge,” you say, heading toward the kitchen. You stick the roast in the fridge and head back toward the bedroom, eager to see some more nudity.

But, she’s no longer naked. Not that you mind, as she’s wearing something you haven’t seen her wear in a long time: a sexy lacy white babydoll nightie. The light is off in the room, but the bathroom light is on, giving the bedroom a nice ambiance, as Rachel is sitting on the bed pulling a white lace-topped stocking up her leg. “Oh, that was quick — I almost didn’t get all… ready.”

“Very niiiiice!” you approve of her as she stands up and turns around for you. Her white lacy stockings match the babydoll nightie, which has thin straps and lace cups over her breasts, through which you can make out her nipples if you try (and you do try.) The sheer material below is see-through and hugs her figure, just long enough to cover her white lace bikini panties.

“Over here,” she says, guiding you to stand by the bathroom door, giving you a nice view of her beside the bed as she twirls once more. She gives a few taps to her phone, which is plugged into the little desktop speaker on the nightstand, beside three or four bottles of something. “Since I had to stand there watching you get off earlier… now you have to watch me.”

“Or,” you reply, “since you got to watch me, now I get to watch you.”

“Okay, you can say it that way,” she says as she starts moving her body, dancing to the heavy trance music that begins to fill the room.