A Dream Come True - Cover

A Dream Come True

Copyright© 2018 by Curt Bruch

Chapter 1

Erotica Sex Story: Chapter 1 - He had known her since 'forever' and from afar had often fantasized at seeing her being penetrated by a man who was superior to him in every way. He could have never imagined the circumstances that would bring about making his dreams come true.

Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Consensual   Romantic   Heterosexual   Fiction   Cuckold   Slut Wife   Wife Watching   DomSub   Humiliation   Interracial   Masturbation   Voyeurism   Nudism  

I was on vacation (in the Canary Islands, since you ask) when sitting at a beach-side bar I got into conversation with an agreeable guy who, like me, was content to get out of the hot sunshine and just enjoy looking at the sea, sand and the lovely people lazing about whilst we viewed them over the rim of a glass of cold beer. He noted I had my journal with me and soon extracted the information that I was a writer who loved to listen to accounts from strangers and turn them into stories. He took that as an invitation.


I have always considered myself to be a practical, realistic person, one not normally affected by daydreams of gaining the unachievable such as acquiring great riches, being a great sportsman or maybe just being the most popular person in town; things that would be nice to achieve but all sounding as requiring too much effort. However, there had always been a constant nagging thought in my mind of something that might just be possible to bring about and that was to see my beautiful loving wife making love with another man. In fact the dream went further than that; I dreamt of her being the complete hot-wife taking great delight in cuckolding her husband with a well-hung lover while I looked helplessly on.

That was the dream and being a practical, realistic person I dismissed it as such albeit that I admit to having masturbated frequently with visions of her humiliating me filling my mind. If I learned anything from those lonely times it was, ‘never let go of your dreams’.


We first met at junior school and it drove me crazy that because we sat next to each other in class that people looked upon us two, Irene and Oscar, as being childhood sweethearts. I have no idea where that idea came from for as far as I was concerned she was never more than just a school-friend. We parted company when we got to high school age and she went off to some prestigious private girls-only Catholic boarding school overseen by Nuns leaving me to go to the local state school.

Our backgrounds were equally diverse. Although we both lived in the same area she had been bought up within a devout middle-class, well-off family who instilled in her a straight-laced outlook on life. In contrast, my childhood was one spent in a happy-go-lucky household with a family who were not particularly rich who didn’t impose too many restrictions on my upbringing. My schooling was, well how can I put it, quite rudimentary albeit that I was smart enough to get the grades needed to go onto higher education.

We were reunited after we both graduated from our respective schools and fate directed that we both chose to start the next stage of our lives as undergraduates at Valladolid University. We met up during Fresher’s Week and I suppose we were each a little relieved to see a familiar face amongst all the strangers but it was obvious we were still truly opposites. She was a reserved, shy, quiet studious person who certainly wasn’t to share my extra-curricular interests; I was more interested in partying and pursuing the more raucous side of student life rather than the academic and given we were both studying subjects that had no connection our study time was never likely to overlap and that was certainly the case for the three years we were there.

We were really on both sides of the coin of life but there must have been something about me that caught her eye (I certainly had noticed her around the campus) and somehow we started a conversation whenever we passed by in transit from one faculty building to another. It took only a few ‘encounters’ before I became really smitten with her beauty and was looking out for her whenever/wherever throughout the day. For a long while she didn’t reciprocate my unspoken desires or show anything other than a polite interest in me which left me free to pursue my interests in drinking and chasing pussy (other than hers!)

My university years became a bit of a blur with many parties and quite a few girls who were keen to lose their virginity. I didn’t keep score but the encounters I had were often accompanied by thoughts in my fertile mind of it being Irene that I was fucking with my 4 inch dick. What thoughts my companion at the time had I have no idea but no comments were made of them being disappointed with what I later learned was a less-than average size penis. That revelation came when at a particularly drunken evening when a group of us less-inhibited students ended up having a mini-orgy with an equally inebriated bunch of girls and I saw for the first time that there were erect cocks that made mine look like a little boy’s in comparison.

It was also the occasion that the fantasy of seeing Irene being fucked by a big, fat cock took root in my mind and was to become almost an obsession.


We both graduated and armed with our degrees returned back home to find work and begin the lives of being responsible adults with proper jobs. By this time we had got to know each other a lot better and somehow we began properly dating which lent some credence to the theory of opposites having a strong attraction but being the good catholic girl she would never let me go any further with her than heavy petting as she believed that she must keep herself ‘pure’ until after she had been blessed at the altar! Maybe it was the idea of taking her virginity that spurred me on but to my joy (and that of our respective families) it was after a couple of years of us being ‘an item’ that Irene accepted my proposal of marriage. She was fulfilling her dream of becoming a wife and, maybe, a mother; I was taking the first step (I hoped) of having someone who would be sharing and fulfilling my sexual fantasies.

Indeed, my fantasies were fuelled even further when prior to our actual wedding we went away together for a long weekend break to Tunisia. True to her beliefs she would not allow me any to go any further than some naughty mutual masturbation (much to her embarrassment it seemed) but there were two dark-skinned swarthy waiters who served our table who flirted outrageously with her every time we ate and she, bless her, gave back as good as they gave. Whilst there was no way that they would have had any more success than me seeing her react to them in this way their attention and her obvious attraction set in my mind the new idea of seeing her being fucked by black cock. My mind thenceforth worked overtime on that fantasy.

Our wedding was a lavish affair mainly funded by her devoted parents and held in the grand Church of the Holy Angels which provided all the pomp and majesty of the Catholic faith that meant so much to her. My thoughts when I saw her coming up the aisle resplendent in her white wedding gown were less than reverent and all I could see in my fevered mind was beneath the layers of tulle and lace was a fur trimmed pussy that later that day I would be pushing my cock into.

Irene performed her role of the newly wedded wife perfectly. Following the church ceremony we went to a high-class restaurant where a sumptuous banquet had been laid on (by her parents) where we feasted, speeches were made and toasts were proposed. After the meal we danced and socialised before to the knowing looks of many guests we eventually took our leave and with cheers (and a few ribald remarks) following us we left and went to our nearby hotel.

Once in our room Irene finally allowed herself to relax and to shed her inhibitions. With little signs of embarrassment she let me look upon her as she unzipped her dress and allowed it to fall to the floor. If she had looked like a dream when she was fully dressed she now to my eyes looked a vision of loveliness as she stood before me clad in white lacy lingerie and stockings. She reached up and took the pins from her auburn hair which when she tossed her head fell to curl its way down to her shoulders. She looked at me with her dark brown eyes and stepping out of the dress pooled around her feet came over to me and put her arms around my neck and kissed me. I was in heaven; there was no doubt that I was about to realise my dream, my first fantasy, of fucking the virgin Irene.

She took my hand and led me to the bed where she lay down on her back. I pulled off my tie, ripped open my shirt and quickly dropped my pants which allowed my stiff cock to spring free and then I knelt between her spread legs and looked down upon her sweet pussy coyly hidden beneath lace-fringed panties. She made no protest when I pulled them off revealing the fur covered paradise that she had obviously carefully trimmed. I saw the lips of her vagina were puffy and, in my mind, looked damp with anticipation so with no thought of foreplay I leaned forward, positioned myself and thrust into her. She may have grimaced; she may have cried out, I had no recollection; I was totally focussed on pushing my stiff cock into her tight hole. It felt divine and it took me but a few strokes back and forth before I felt my climax beginning to overwhelm me. I had never felt such a blissful orgasm as that which flooded out of me and my joy was made complete when I opened my eyes and felt her arms pull me down to join her in a kiss.

She never did say whether she had actually enjoyed her deflowering; she gave more of an impression that she had just been relieved to have gone through this rite of passage with as little pain as she had been led to believe would be the case.

We settled into married life with great ease and I have to say that at the beginning the sex was great. I was getting my pleasure on a regular basis; she was getting satisfaction from being the good wife who was honouring her husband. However, there were ‘conditions’; she didn’t want to fall pregnant too early as a newlywed and would only allow me to make love to her if she saw that I was wearing a condom. Only then, once she had seen that I had slipped the sheath over my stiff little cock, would she only me anywhere near that delightful fur-trimmed pussy. Indeed, I fondly believed she became almost enthusiastic once I had slipped my latex-covered cock into her and would hold me tight and grind herself against me as I did my best to bury myself deep inside her warmth. If she reached a climax then she was very quiet about it but then again I would always be loudly grunting out my own orgasm so that I wouldn’t have heard her anyway.

Which is not to say that I wasn’t denied having her ‘bareback’ for in keeping with her beliefs that marriage was the only means by which one should have children (and indeed that was what being married was all about) it was when she decided that we should try for a child that all I was given the freedom to fuck her unprotected. How I revelled in those two periods she allowed me to love her so; two periods because after she was certain that I had succeeded in planting my seed we then reverted back to condom use. We have two lovely daughters to remind me of those times.

Having fulfilled her ‘duty’, as she saw it, of producing two perfect children she then began to fret about the possibility of condoms failing and falling pregnant again. (She mentioned reading that they could split but I think she was more concerned that often they seemed to be a bit loose on my less than average sized dick.) To my surprise she suggested that I had a vasectomy so that I could enjoy her once more without the restriction of a condom. I didn’t hesitate and once I had the all-clear and it was confirmed I was shooting ‘blanks’ my sex life went back to being one of unprotected pleasure.

Over the next few years we evolved and matured as a family and a few changes took place which caused a few upsets. Irene’s company began making great changes and encouraged her to work from home so they could save on costs; we converted a spare bedroom into an office. At the same time I had a promotion in my work which required me to occasionally visit my company’s regional sites and to stay in a hotel for the period.

She wasn’t entirely happy with all these new arrangements given she missed the interaction and socialising that she had previously enjoyed in a busy office. For myself, I was secretly pleased with my new position for often when I travelled I was able to ‘indulge’ myself with a casual fling with someone more adventurously-minded than my wife.

However, some things never wavered. For her it was the continued devotion to the church and her faith which meant that every week would see her and the girls go off for what seemed hours to attend to her God; for me it was to harbour and develop the fantasy of seeing her being fucked by another man’s cock.

Each Sunday she would go off and get on her knees, close her eyes and pray for a better world whilst back home I would be laying naked on our bed with my eyes closed and having a glorious wank visualising and praying to see a big fat long cock thrusting in and out of her neatly trimmed cunt.

There could not have been two more opposing outlooks on life!

For a few years we settled into this routine. I was never sure if she was really content with how things were, especially in the sex department, and in the hope of spicing things up I began to allude to my fantasy of seeing her cuckolding me with another man. The first time I mentioned the idea it was rejected out-of-hand; she made it quite plain that I was all she needed and, anyway, there could never be sex without love. However, I persisted with making similar suggestions every time we did make love and whilst she never actually changed her responses I think she got the message that such thoughts were exciting to me and it became part of our routine. Indeed, she even began adding to my fantasies by making teasing remarks and play-acting the part of being a less-inhibited woman.

I had resigned myself to this being as far as my perverted desires would go when two events occurred that would change everything; both significant in their own way. Firstly, Irene decided that her stay-at-home status was not only denying her the amount of running around she enjoyed when she worked at her company’s main office but it also meant that she was unable to use their gym given it was only open during the daytime office hours when she was now stuck at home. She declared that working from home was making her ‘feel fat’ and to counter the increasing kilos she declared she would be joining a local Sports Centre and working-out to shed the weight. (For my part I was never a sporty person and had no problem with my expanding stomach other than when I looked down and realised that I could no longer see my cock!) I was happy for her to go off and leave me alone as it allowed for more ‘me-time’.

The second event was far more catastrophic. A terrorist outrage occurred in Madrid when 4 commuter trains were targeted with bombs which left nearly 200 people dead and hundreds more injured. The civilised world was stunned at such barbarity and, in Spain, the realisation that such things could happen so close to home was a shock to us all but in particular to Irene for she knew someone who had been caught up in the mayhem.

It was after a few days of quiet reflection that she then dropped her own bombshell; she would no longer be going to church and she was dropping her devotion to her catholic faith. She rationalised that, ‘Religion was nonsense. If there was a God, how could such things be allowed to happen?’ was the main thrust of her thinking. Along with the dumping of her religious beliefs went other straight-laced attitudes and I witnessed a new wife emerging from the shelter of her previously closed mind.


Irene diverted her previous passions and devotions into her new religion of going to the gym and it didn’t take long before the results of her exercising became evident. If she was a beauty before, now, to my eyes, she was stunning and inwardly I would cry with delight as I looked upon her whenever we were alone in the bedroom. I could never get enough of feasting my eyes on her toned body, her perfect breasts, her neatly trimmed pussy, her slender neck all topped by a mane of auburn hair tumbling their curls over her shoulders. I didn’t have to tell her how lovely she looked; my cock would show its appreciation and she would take my hand and lead me to our bed.

Whereas previously she would have just gone through the motions of satisfying my obvious desire now she seemed to positively encourage me to fuck her. She enthusiastically pandered to my declared fantasies and I would enter my kind of heaven as she lay beneath me telling me the words I wanted to hear; how it would be nice to have another cock, a cock bigger than mine, pushing into her; how she wished I could last a bit longer; how she ought to find someone else who could satisfy her more than me. It was all play acting of course but then as time went by I began to suspect that maybe there was more going on in her life than I really appreciated.


It was the summer following her new devotions to the gym that she declared that we should begin to visit the nudist beaches that abound along the nearby Mediterranean coast line. It wasn’t something that was seen as being a big deal in Spain unlike other countries where public nudity is regarded as a sin or perversion and I was quite happy to go along with the idea so that we might gain that all-over tan. However, that said, she didn’t always strip off completely and mostly would just be topless whilst I was quite happy to bare all and took some delight in exposing my carefully shaved and trimmed cock and balls.

So it was that we would deposit the girls to have a day with their Grandparents whilst we went off to spend our day lying amongst the dunes. It was the second weekend that we did so that I got an inkling that ‘something’ other than exercise may have been on her gym schedule.

His name was José and as he wandered along the beach in front of where we lay Irene called out. He came over and she introduced me to this dark-skinned fellow telling me he was her personal trainer at the gym and what a coincidence it was to see him here. I wasn’t convinced it was a coincidence and suspected that maybe this meeting had been contrived.

She smiled at him as he shook and squeezed my hand and I couldn’t fail to be impressed by her choice of trainer as he was admittedly a handsome fellow with muscles in all the right places (as a fitness teacher should be) but, most impressive, had a cock which looked to be at least twice the length of mine. He sat down and shared our blanket and over the next hour or so we chatted about nothing and everything. It was a nice time and I could not help notice just how at ease they were with each other as they recounted the regime and the exercises that he put her through at the gym. Clearly some of what he taught her involved being up close and personal and it wasn’t my imagination that when he described some of what they did that his cock appeared to swell adding to its impressive dimensions.

When we got to bed that night I gently quizzed her as to what really went on at the gym and whilst she didn’t out and out admit that she had taken José as a lover she alluded that it was quite possible that maybe, just maybe, there was more going on than just exercising on the cross-trainer and lifting weights! What she did admit to was thinking how nice it would be to have a cock inside her that might touch parts that I was incapable of reaching. She even mentioned our day at the beach and commented on how much bigger other men we saw all looked better proportioned than me. I knew she was really referring to José and I should have been hurt by the suggestion but in truth it was right in line with my thinking and the added sense of humiliation gave me a little buzz.

I think it was that weekend that really started things off. Irene was clearly signalling to me that the previous objections and denials of having sex with someone outside of her precious marriage were crumbling and she must have known from all our whispered conversations in bed over the past few years indicated my compliance if she chose to go down that path. I’m thinking it was the meeting with José on the beach where we crossed the line.

She continued with her strict gym routine always returning home looking flushed but happy and the beach called us most weekends to maintain the suntan. Sometimes the kids would come with us but mostly they preferred to go and stay with Irene’s parents where the big house and garden plus swimming pool was a greater attraction than being with their parents. We had no objection for it gave us the freedom to ‘people watch’ and make comments without having to explain anything to their ever-present eavesdropping should the girls have been with us. And being alone we would contrive to get up away from the beach where we could lay between the dunes and have a little more privacy as we witnessed the parade of naked bodies parading along the seashore.

It was one such weekend when (by arrangement, it seemed to me) that José joined us. He saw Irene’s wave from our vantage point and came up the beach with that impressive black cock of his swinging as he picked his way through the other sun worshipers. Irene moved over to make space on our blanket and he lay on one side of her making her the filling of the sandwich with me on the other side. Conversation was very easy as I was already regarding him as a friend and clearly they had a lot in common to talk about from their times at the gym. (My mind raced overtime at the thoughts of them being together there!) A bottle of wine was shared with our picnic which loosened tongues and inhibitions further and before I knew it Irene had turned the topic to how different men’s ‘equipment’ looked; that she was surprised at the variations in appearance of their penises (she didn’t actually call them that, her upbringing wouldn’t allow her to mouth such naughty words. She referred to the cocks on display as ‘things’!)

Another bottle of wine was opened and I could see that it was having an effect on her for she was obviously becoming more relaxed. She knowingly looked at José and his fat cock which seemed to becoming a little stiffer and thicker as she spoke and then she lay back and reached over to me and stroking my inner thigh asked me if I felt ‘short-changed’. I was shocked that she could be so brazen but didn’t stop her. She saw the reaction of my cock that instantly had began its short journey to becoming erect and smiling she turned back to José to give him the same treatment leaving me with my stubby dick pointing up at the clear blue sky. As she softly stroked his leg she made murmured noises of encouragement as his cock became even harder and longer. I looked around to see if anyone else could see us but no one was looking our way. By the time I turned back she had already transferred her delicate white hand to grasp the now rigid black tool. He gave me a look to gauge my reaction of seeing my wife being so intimate with another man and sensing I had no objection he covered her hand with his and encouraged her to masturbate him. I was enthralled at the sight; this was the stuff of my fantasies being played out before me and I felt blessed as I took my own cock in hand and lazily wanked as I watched her attend to him.

I don’t know how long we laid there enveloped in our pleasures but I broke the spell when with my usual vocal accompaniment I felt my spunk shooting and spurting out giving me the most intense orgasm. Irene looked over at me with half-hooded eyes and smiled to see the result of my ejaculation and the cum pooling on my stomach and chest. She turned back to him and spitting into her fist redoubled her efforts and stroked José harder and faster till he could contain his self-control no more. He lifted himself up on his heels to meet her grasp and impressed us all as his climax overcame him and a fountain of spunk came shooting out of the fat shiny purple bulb of his rigid cock to cover her hand and, significantly, dribble down her fingers to coat her wedding ring. I was breathless with excitement as I witnessed every detail.

It was late afternoon before we could bring ourselves to stir from the comfort of the blanket and warmth of the sun. We gathered our things together and Irene made the suggestion and offered an invite for José to come back to our apartment to have dinner. Her invitation seemed to me to be a bit stilted in the way it was said and I had suspicions that maybe this was something else that they had previously spoken about and arranged. I was even more suspicious when she said something to the effect of, “You know the address and where to find us”. My instant thought was had he already visited when I’d been away on one of my out-of-town business trips; had he been to our flat when I had been at work? My cock gave a twitch as I absorbed the possibility.

He accepted and said he would come by later which would allow us time to prepare and get ourselves ready for visitors and that he would be bring along a bottle of good wine he had been saving for such an occasion; suggestions that confirmed he was a man of good manners and taste.

We went our separate ways and on our drive home I began the gentle probing that might reveal just how much of my suspicions were valid; had he previously visited our flat; had she ‘entertained’ him before? I told her that I really didn’t mind if it were so but she just gave non-committal answers. The smiles that accompanied her responses cemented in my mind that I wasn’t far from the truth.

My questions and comments continued as I, the chef in our household, prepared the meal but she still didn’t properly answer but rather concentrated on getting changed and ready to receive our guest. When she emerged from the bedroom it was as she had dressed to go out to some gala event, she looked stunning. Her yellow dress set off her tanned body and she had done her auburn hair so it was piled high on her pretty head. Some discrete gold jewellery (a delicate chain necklace and matching bracelet I had bought her for our 15th Wedding Anniversary) adorned her slender neck and wrist and on her feet a pair of gold sandals. She came over to me as I attended the stove and giving a twirl asked me how she looked. The waft of expensive perfume completed the picture and I told her she looked lovely.

I answered the doorbell to find José on time and with a bottle of wine and a bunch of flowers in hand. With his hands full he was unable to shake mine but stepping pass me he was able to give a waiting Irene a kiss on the lips. I felt the hairs on my neck raise as I witnessed what I thought to be a little too intimate a gesture for such a casual acquaintance. He handed the flowers to her and the bottle to me with instructions that it should be opened straightaway so that it might ‘breath’. His manner in doing so was a little abrupt as if he was ordering me about. I obviously made no comment but rather did as I was told as the two of them went through to the sitting room.

I made few checks on the dish that I had prepared was not going to spoil as it simmered on the stove and having opened the wine went through to find them side by side on the couch. Without any signs of embarrassment they were recounting the afternoon’s events on the beach and I tried to add to the conversation as I sat opposite. My contributions were mostly ignored and I contented myself with just looking upon the couple who could have been lovers on a first date the way they were reacting to each other. He kept leaning over to quietly whisper something into her ear; she would give a sideways glance to me and giggle something back to him that was unheard by me. I sat bemused and mute on my chair as I absorbed the tableau before me and then it dawned on me that she was actually teasing me; that she was actually playing up to some of the things that I had shared with her of how exciting it would be for me to see her flirting with someone else. My conclusion was made real when she deliberately and slowly uncrossed and crossed her legs and revealed that she wasn’t wearing any panties. Oh my god, I think my heart stopped still at that moment to glimpse her pussy winking at me. She saw that I had noticed and slyly gave me a proper wink and suggested that maybe we ought to go to the table to enjoy the dish I had cooked.

I was in some kind of dream as we ate thinking on what I had witnessed and what might be developing here as it became obvious that she was complying with the acting out her part in the fantasies that I had shared. Their flirty talk continued and then with the meal finished we sat a while to see off the remains of the excellent wine José had contributed. As I drained the last of my glass I felt Irene’s foot gently press against my ankle. I looked at her and she gave me another wink, smiled and slightly cocked her head in José’s direction. I wasn’t too sure what message she was sending but I made a play of letting my napkin slip from my lap so that I had to reach down to retrieve it from the floor. As I ducked my head I glanced under the table and in those few moments saw that she had her hand covering his swollen cock which was straining against the fabric of his trousers. I quickly bought my head up to see her smiling even more broadly as she knew I had seen what she had intended.

Feeling both excited and a little embarrassed I got to my feet and said that I would get the table cleared and tidied up. José took this as a sign that our evening was coming to an end and also stood up (somewhat awkwardly given his erection was quite evident if anyone cared to look; I looked!) He said all the expected things of a departing guest but asked if he could use the bathroom before he left. Irene, quick as a flash said that she would show him where to find it and almost took him by the hand to lead him down the hallway. Again she looked at me and gave me that wink.

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