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Following the yacht cruise to Alaska.

The way he might watch me as I walk across the room. Or how he lingers in the bedroom to watch me getting undressed. Or picks up the laundry. It is an odd mix of both erotic actions and the routine, average, no-frills moments that can trigger fantasies. But I will not lie. There are times when the naughty, forbidden, never-to-be-acted-upon moments drive an average wifey crazy!

Walking in the mall and feeling the eyes of a stranger tracing the curves of my body can be creepy, yet somehow arousing. Flirtations from men other than hubby can be dangerous, yet appealing. Receiving inappropriate amounts of personal attention from someone I like can be a fire that burns long and deep inside of me, spreading into my bed, steaming up my bathtub, warming the folds of my moist pussy. The leering eye on my cleavage, the double-meaning comment testing my boundaries, the veiled hints of unspeakable desires; these and others alike stir my cravings in ways that only my fantasies can embrace.

At the neighborhood, backyard BBQ, the handsome man from across the street is off limits. But his roaming eyes which not so discreetly curl around the curves of my breasts give me permission to later fan the flames of the fantasy of his hands smearing my breasts with honey and then slowly licking them clean.

At church, the younger man who seems to never miss an opportunity to give me a warm, snug, embrace during the 'meet and greet' time in the service, is low hanging fruit on the tree of temptation that I modestly and openly turn away from with a sense of dignity. But that does not stop my mind from wandering during the sermon, welcoming images of that same young man taking me by the hand and slow dancing with me; his hands sliding down to sensually squeeze my ass as I lean into him so that my breasts firmly greet his muscular chest; our mouths open softly and kiss with a romance-novel passion.

When the single mother of one stops by to visit me, taking a break from her daily walk of pushing the stroller around the block, I can only listen as she shares her pain of rejection regarding hubby's betrayal of her. I also can only listen as she tells me how it turned out for good, sparking her realization that she would rather have a lesbian lover than a cheating husband. Outwardly I listen and affirm. Inwardly, secretly, I fantasize about the brief moments we could share caring for each other, secretly pleasuring each other. I admire her youth, marvel at her honesty, and secretly wonder what her freedom would feel like in my arms.

There are times when my fantasies are tame and hubby-centric. Occasionally, my fantasies of hubby can be wild, delving into images of raw fucking rather than sensual love-making.

There are other times when my fantasies are shocking to me. I wonder how such thoughts could fill my mind. I am mystified at how something so unthinkable in reality could be so arousing in fantasy.

Mostly though, the best fantasies are those which blur the line between my reality and my secret urges. Those are the visions that merge the familiar touch of hubby's hand on my body with the stranger's lusty pawing of my flesh. Maybe syncing up routines of life with naughty opportunities to exploit the trust of others; fucking a stranger while talking to hubby on the phone, cyber-sexing on my laptop with hubby in the room thinking I am FaceBooking, hiding my lesbian lover under the table licking my pussy as I maintain my composure chatting to hubby over dinner.

This is the mind of the average wifey. Our bodies may not be perfect 36-24-36 goddess-like figures. Our lifestyles may be dominated by all things regular and normal. Our stations in life may seem typical. We may appear to be so incremental in our libido that passion is a thousand urges away. But the truth is, our minds are as sharp as the most horny bastard out there. We feel things deeply. There are deep waters of desire flowing within us.

And in those rare moments when we can inspire desire and lusty cravings in others, we ch

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