Their marriage had been a textbook-example. Not a Barbara Cartland textbook, mind you. More like the bad examples from various marriage manuals. A year and a half of joyous love and exciting sex, followed by more than four years of pregnancies, two childbirths, crying babies demanding all their attention and energy, and a sexlife dwindling to almost nothing. At the same time Annie grew from a pretty, slim woman into one-and-a-half not so pretty woman, and Claus chose to carry his spare tyre around his waist.

When more than six years had passed this way, the strain and stress of babies eased a bit, and Annie felt the first tinges of lust return. Her body had reached a state, which a kind friend might call voluptuous, while other people should describe it as fat, sloppy, and ungainly. Not that Claus looked any better. But anything was better than the years of the dried well, and the first time she reached out, on her own initiative, and took his limp cock in her hand, it responded as might be expected. Her body was no marvel to cherish and caress, but in the darkness of their bedroom with his eyes closed, and images in his mind of how she had looked six years ago, it was not too bad. That Annie's eyes were closed, too, he could only classify as 'fair enough'. Soon those images were replaced with a multitude of others, and he would masturbate Glenn Close, suck the nipples of Marilyn Monroe and finally fuck his neighbour's young daughter. Meanwhile Annie would have her nipples licked and sucked by Brad Pitt, she would have a great orgasm on Clint Eastwood's fingers, and finally Paul McCartney fucked her nicely.

Next step was fantasy, of course. Fantasies of lewd acts and burning passion. While Claus played her dripping pussy Annie took off on wild journeys to the Caribbean islands with three magnificent lovers, or she would make herself available at orgies, where men as well as women would service her. This was so exciting that she would stop Claus, in order to make it last. "Wait," she would whisper, "this is so good. I don't want to come yet." At the same time Claus would have dreams of horny zipless fucks with randy women who could not say 'no' to cocks in any hole, or a harem of several slave-girls with no other purpose in life but to satisfy his whims.

Her awakened fantasies made Annie take a realistic view of her own body. Gradually she changed their diet into low-fat, low-calorie vegetables and lean meat. It worked for her. Pound upon pound seemed to melt off her ribs and hips, and one morning while he dressed for work, she noticed that Claus had lost quite a few pounds as well. His trousers looked miserably baggy on him. "Hey, that doesn't look nice. Haven't you got a pair of smaller trousers? I think you have a pair of blue ones in your closet." By this time Annie had advanced to submission-fantasies, and Claus was not that much behind her, even if they had never talked about their fantasies.

One night when Annie was two thirds of the way back to her old self, she had a most violent fantasy. One of the classics: Being caught and used by a bunch of old and fat Chinese monks. She was wonderfully horny, and her cunt gushed the loveliest, slimy juice in big quantities. "Go slow, honey," she whispered and placed a hand on top of his, "it's so good."

"OK," he whispered in answer. He was vaguely aware that she might have horny fantasies like he had himself. "A penny for your thoughts."

She was surprised and shocked. Did he know she had fantasies? No. He couldn't. Maybe? "No, no. I couldn't tell you."

"Why not?"

"You wouldn't like them, and you wouldn't go on diddling me so good."

"Try me. I might become really enthusiastic, you know."