ARE YOU UP FOR A GAME?

Sara Reilly, Sean's wife, is extremely attractive (because the novel is a fantasy, this should come as no surprise). This story does not go into length regarding the woman's physical characteristics, which typically focus on her breasts and/or ass. Instead, I advise you to look at images of Laura Cover online if you want to imagine what this ideal woman looks like. I chose her because she appears in her post-Playboy photos to be a really lovely and good lady, the kind of woman who, in her arms, would make all of the world's troubles and woes vanish. However, (spoiler alert!) she appears to be a lady who could have exploited her attractiveness to manipulate and even mercilessly dominate those around her in some of her Playboy photographs. Sara is an excellent employee who works in an office with many people under her direction.

Sean Reilly: I have no real sense of his appearance, but I do know who he is. Being an Alpha male, he may enter a room and everyone will immediately feel his presence. Despite being a quiet man, he doesn't consciously try to sway anyone in his vicinity with his strong aura. He is a romantic at heart and an excellent all-around couples dancer (minor plot spoiler). He works as a general handyman for new homeowners who want their new house to be unique and always delivers. He works on commission.

Others include Sara's friends, Megan, who recently got divorced from her cheating ex-husband and is celebrating by getting a little wild, Claire, who is single and has no intention of giving up her independence, Beth, who is a lesbian and in a good relationship, and Tiffany, a waitress. Helen is also happily married but her sex life is less than exciting.

The narrative begins with Sara driving up to a restaurant on a Sunday morning where she often meets up with her pals for Sunday brunch. Who got some last week and how delicious was it are two issues that frequently come up. When Sara updates everyone on her sex life over the course of a week, her four pals occasionally discover that they are living vicariously through her. (They always want a private room in order to not startle the other restaurant patrons.)

I'm contemplating my conversation with my pals when I enter Monique's while I sit in my car outside. I had been longing to ask Sean something for months, but I had no idea what I was getting myself into when I asked him on Friday night. Since I walked out to my car this morning and discovered the letter on my window, I still don't really know. Sean can make my body ache with need and make my heart sing, but there were times when I felt like I needed more from him. He had been silent after I stated my inquiry for a time, and I became concerned that he was turning away from me because he was surprised that I had posed such a question. I was about to apologize and beg him to forgive me for ever bringing up the matter. He then turned to stare into my heart and eyes, and

Clack, clack

I barely got a small amount of coffee on me.

"Sara, I apologize; I didn't want to startle you."

Heart, please take it easy. Claire, you surprised me, but it's okay. I was just thinking about something. I'll be there in a

"Sara, are you okay?" Is something not right?

The benefit of having friends for a long time is that you get to know each other well; when one of you is upset, the others are aware of it and want to support you. It took all of us to help Megan get through the grief when she learned about that rat bastard Mark, but she did it and is now living a much better life. She occasionally has a great love life; on occasion, she receives more congratulations on her relationships than I do, which is noteworthy.

The drawback of having close friends is that, even when you need their support, it can be challenging to open up. especially if it pertains to something you did and provides personal information that you may not want others to know.

I just need to gather myself, Claire, and I'll be there in a moment.

"All right Sara, I'll be at the door to meet you."

Take many long, deep breaths.

Do I inform them? Do I present the note to them?

I was on autopilot as Claire and I made our way through the restaurant toward our hotel. The food on the tables surrounding me always smells good, but today I hardly noticed them. Tiffany, our server, was waiting outside of our room as we approached her. She was a cute little devil, and I do mean devil, who had just turned 19 years old. Sometimes when we were relating very racy stories, she would "take her time" taking/giving us orders. She occasionally told us some extremely interesting stories! She periodically joined us for our Sunday brunch, and we thought of her as our sixth member. She lost that fun gleam in her eyes as I approached; she could tell I was in danger.

Do you feel okay?

"Yes. No. I'm not sure.

Would you like a drink of wine to help you relax?

Just some orange juice, please, I beg you. She was unaware that I had given up alcohol and that Sean and I had been trying to conceive for the past three months.

Coming up, one OJ.

"Thanks."

When I entered our room, Megan, Helen, and Beth were giggling inaudibly. When they turned to face me, their laughter ceased.

I should practice keeping a poker face.

Beth swiftly stood up and approached me. What is it, Sara?

"Let me take a seat so I can gather myself."

"Sit here," I said.

Breathe slowly and deeply while ignoring the four troubled faces that are staring at you.

They were all hesitant to ask the question, but Helen did. Sara, isn't this not about you and Sean attempting to conceive a kid, is it?

I quickly reassured them although my voice was slightly shaken. "It isn't. Even after failure, I keep trying.

Added silence

Put an end to it. "Friday night began normally. Well, it's typical for us. Had a lovely supper, enjoyed some fantastic music, engaged in a tickle war with Sean, and then engaged in some quality time with Sean. Then, after some time had passed, I asked him a question that I had been dying to ask him.

Completely obedient audience.

I questioned him regarding how he intended to take me.

Completely perplexed audience.

First to regain consciousness, Helen shook her head a little. Take you. "What do you mean. You where, please?

Not anywhere, Simply take me.

At the same time, they all understood. Four jaws hit the ground, and eight eyes grew incredibly large.

You did not! God, oh God! "Sara!" You go, lady! (Megan)

I was asking myself that same question, which Claire posed. Sara asked, "Are you sure you're not talking about some type of rape fantasy?"

Completely stunned audience

"No, no. At least it is not what I requested.

Change to a furious audience.

We'll do something if that son of a bitch hurts you!

"No, no, Meg, not like that. God, we're talking about Sean here. It's when... He remained completely silent for a moment after I asked him that, almost as if he couldn't believe what I had said. I wanted to apologize and promise never to ask him that question again, so please don't remember me asking it because I was afraid.

Did you not?

"I was about to when he looked at me after his eyes refocused. I'm not going to tell you how I would go about taking you, he added as he reached over with his left hand and moved my hair out of the way. I guess I'd prefer to show you."

Perfect harmony among the four voices. God, oh God!

That's very much how I felt, I'd say. trembling laugh When he continued by saying that this was neither the time nor the place for something like this, I stopped seriously panicking. Instead, he advised me that planning and preparation were necessary.

Returning to a completely rapt audience

What did you do after that?

He embraced me in his arms and began to fall asleep after we engaged in some gentle kissing and touching.

"WHAT!" "He just fell asleep after saying something like that!" This is why I appreciate ladies,

"He did, yes. He had a tiny smile on his face as he dozed off.

We all adore Sean, but that fool, Sara!

There is laughter around the table.

Yes, I am aware. It took me a lot longer than he did for me to fall asleep, though.

Claire posed the crucial query once more. Why did you ask him that, Sara?

large, deep breath

"Everyone knows my spouse. Such a powerful alpha man, he is. He exudes such confidence as he moves around the world, and women lust after him as men bow down to him. Although it's almost masked by his peaceful demeanor and laid-back demeanor—four slightly guilty looks—people can't help but notice it. We have a wonderful life together, both personally and sexually, and it is everything I could ever want for. However, I want to feel that strength in him and for him to release it and submit to him.

Four jaws again fell to the ground.

God, I'm not referring to a different relationship, I'm just saying sometimes. I just want to know what it would feel like to be taken by him because we've blended together so wonderfully, effortlessly.

calm table

The ideal moment for Tiffany to arrive. "This is your OJ, Sara. This menu is for everyone.

A busy few seconds.

Okay Sara, what's going on?

Helen stated it for me, so I believe I may have appeared a little ashamed. She questioned her spouse about taking her on Friday night.

Since Tiffany understood the meaning immediately, she may be a little more (open? kinky?) than the rest of us. She merely said "Oh wow!" as her eyes grew incredibly large.

Nothing relieves anxiety like a little laughs.

It's already Sunday am, so that was Friday night. What has occurred since that time?

I carefully opened my handbag and took the note out. This was on my windshield this morning when I tried to get into my car. It's the cause of my slight tardiness and my anxiety.

In order for everyone to see it, I placed it on the table. There were only five easy words written on it in large letters.

Are you up for a game?

This Sunday morning, as I sit on our patio drinking lemonade (Sara is abstaining, so I am too), my wife has departed for a brunch date with her friends. I've just started the first step in a lengthy process to confuse her and leave her wondering what I'm planning and when I'm going to surprise her. The majority of what I'm going to do is already planned, but there are still a few details I need to work out and preparations to be made.

I should clarify. It had been a fantastic Friday night. We had eaten at a nice Indian restaurant, gone to a tiny bar to hear some soft jazz, and then returned home. My sly wife started tickling me as I was removing my coat to place it in the hallway closet. She attacked while I had the pullover jacket, which had no zipper, halfway over my head. I was unable to remove the blasted thing! The only thing I could really do was to keep moving and twist because I couldn't see her and my arms were trapped in the sleeves covering my head. My wife, who calls my big, powerful husband's kryptonite, unfortunately knows exactly where all those points are, and she started playing my ribs like a piano keyboard. Once the jacket was removed, I prepared to give her some of her own back. Sara didn't want to let me accomplish that, so she used dishonest, duplicitous strategies that only a wicked, unscrupulous person would do.

She began kissing me while lowering one hand to cup my groin. I suppose I could have focused on teasing her and getting her to plead for mercy instead of paying attention to what she was doing, but after four years of marriage, she is well aware of my priorities. In regards to Sara, I don't have much willpower. If you could just see how gorgeous she is, you'd understand.

(Occasionally, I have the impression that she possesses superhuman skills. She always knows when I'm planning anything, even if she doesn't know what it is. As a result, I can never really surprise her with anything. I vouch for the fact that I can point to where she is in the city from kilometers away while spinning in a circle. She almost always triumphs in our games of paper, rock, and scissors. She's going to pull a Samantha and Darrin Stevens on me one day and claim to be a witch who has me entirely under her control after casting a love and lust spell on me, I'm sure of it.)

(I would accept it and believe it.)

I tried to take her shirt out of her pants so I could grab her, but she pushed me up against the wall and started rubbing my cock through my blue trousers. My body began to thump in desire as soon as I became aware of a small but crucial issue. My cock was expanding swiftly, but the darn thing was sticking up in my pants at an unpleasant angle! I've read both fictitious and true stories online (my favorite website is litotica.com), but I don't believe I've ever read about a guy experiencing this issue. Is it just me, or does a naughty little god have it out for me? I let out a gentle "ow," and Sara, who was well aware of how my penis was imprisoned, gently pulled back, gave me a mocking "poor baby," unlocked the button at the top of my jeans, and began removing the zipper. Slowly. She was licking her lips, which was aggravating the situation, and looked up at me with her eyelids dropped. To distract myself from the urge that was practically building inside of me, I tried gently beating my head against the wall. After successfully lowering the zipper, she gradually removed my jeans from my hips while removing the most of the constriction from my crotch. She reached in with her right hand, held my cock, and moved it into the open after inserting her left hand inside the briefs' waistband, pulling it away from my body.

I was now firmly leaning against the wall, and the only way I was able to stop myself from falling to the ground was by locking my knees. She began kissing me again, this time more quickly, while delicately petting the top of my penis. Despite the fact that I didn't dislike it at all (obviously), I couldn't stand it for much longer without losing it and ripping her clothing off.

I made a conscious effort to move away from the wall, reached down to cup her ass cheeks, and then raised and pulled her to me. Two can play the tease game, so after carefully positioning her so that her clitoris was rubbed on the head of my cock, I started to gently move my cock up and down. She trembled even while her slacks were still in between us, so she swiftly encircled me with her arms and legs so that I could move her against me more readily. I walked into our bedroom with us. The swaying motion of climbing a steep flight of stairs made it both difficult and fun to manage the stair climb.

As I carried her into the bedroom in this manner, I pressed myself close to her and placed her on the bed as gently as I could.

A few hours later, we were sharing some time together while being touched, caressed, and given tender kisses, and...

HOW DARE YOU? AFTER A BUILD UP LIKE THAT, YOU TWO ARE NOT GOING TO TELL US WHAT YOU DID? YOU DUMB ASSN!

Hold your horses, people. I won't go into detail about that night since, to be honest, it wasn't all that remarkable. A few orgasms for me, four or five for her, during hot, steamy sex. Nothing unusual occurred.

What happened that first Friday night seems like child's play in comparison to the sex in the tale we're telling you.

Honest.

Anyway, returning to what I was saying, we were simply having a good time together. After a while, I began to feel that Sara wasn't quite right; she seemed preoccupied and seemed to be trying to decide on something. She looked me in the eyes, lightly biting her bottom lip, and then...

I'm in love with you, Sean. May I ask you for something?

I would do anything for her, so why would she be afraid to ask? Ask me; you can have it.

I became concerned when she could hardly meet my eyes. How would you approach, say, taking me?

I briefly believed that I had misheard her. Take her? What was her meaning? Did she want to leave Omaha and start over somewhere else, go on an exotic vacation, or what?

Holy cow!

She questioned how I would treat her.

My mind began to work in overdrive. What did she mean when she said she was taking her? She wanted me to grab her, toss her over my shoulder, swing us up to a tree limb (actually, to a tree house), throw her down into a mat, and then just fuck her as hard and as long as I could manage, like Grunt, me Tarzan, you Jane. I was capable of doing that since there were a few occasions during our marriage when she drove me to the point of losing control. Since I've been there and done that, it couldn't be that. Play a role-playing game where I played Brett and she was some sort of Scarlett O'Hara. I would say, "Frankly Scarlett, I don't give a damn," and I would drag her into our bedroom and take her there (Scarlett wanted him to do her). Perhaps, but it didn't seem like it would be something to be afraid to ask for. She might want...

The idea suddenly into my head, awful as it was. Was there a rape fantasy she wanted us to play out? NO! NO WAY! I wouldn't take part in anything involving violence where she was concerned, not even in make-believe. I found it hard to think she would...

Sean, please relax; this is Sara. Even in a dream, she would never want to experience the terrible sensation of being viciously attacked by a woman. If I had ever thought that about her, I would have...

What, abandon her?

Even just the idea of leaving her made me shiver.

If that's the case, why did I have that thought? Was it something I concocted to prevent myself from thinking?

That I wasn't giving her what she wanted or needed, or that it wasn't enough for her?

Was there something missing from our relationship that I wasn't providing for her?

Was she referring to a dom-sub connection of any sort. She is a strong, educated woman who, if I had tried to force her into being obedient to me, she would have thrown me out of the house in an instant. I couldn't imagine she would want to change what we already had. I wanted a wife who expected my respect just as much as I expected hers, and God knows I didn't want that in her. What did she want, then?

Did she only desire the fantasy of me taking her, not the reality of such a relationship? What did I think of that? We had enjoyed a few role-playing activities. Once, when I picked up a lonely woman in a club, she pretended to be a stripper or hooker eager to ply her trade on a hot gambler while we were in Las Vegas. (Even though it required every dollar I had, she was worth it.) How did I feel about imagining a situation in which I was in charge, touching, cuddling, and fucking the woman while possibly constraining her in some way such that she was powerless to resist the passion blazing within her?

My cock started to weaken, but then it started to thicken once more.

I was intrigued by the idea of something like this, but tonight wasn't the right time to investigate it. We had just spent a couple of hours in mutually agreed-upon pleasure, so to do that now would be foolish. It required...

Planning.

Preparation.

She needed to be filled with anticipation, so I had to get her to reflect on what she had started and what I was about to do. There's an ancient saying that the tastiest sauce is made while you're starving.

There is hunger for things than food.

When I returned from my mental monologue, she was staring at me anxiously and possibly feeling a bit queasy. She was almost going to apologize and beg me not to remember that I had overheard her ask what she did. Before she could think that she should feel ashamed for this, I had to stop her. Her soft blond hair on her right side was pushed out of the way by my left hand as I reached over my body, like I had done countless times before, revealing the nape of her neck. Knowing what that meant, she froze. I knelt down, gently caressed her neck with my lips, kissed the part of her that was mine, and said "I love you" in a soft voice. She hugged me tightly after letting out a faint sob. Once she started to unwind, I knew it was time to launch Operation Hunger for Some—no, Operation Shall We Play a Game. I continued, gazing into her tender blue eyes, "I'm not going to tell you how I'd take you. I believe I'd rather show you. I gently cuddled her lovely body for a while before beginning to force myself to sleep.

She could have needed a little longer than I did to fall asleep.

Saturday I gave my plans considerable thought, as well as some of the preparations I would need to make. That evening, we enjoyed spending time together and eating a delicious supper that we both made at home. visited a movie that evening. The message was then placed on her windshield soon before we went to bed. She is presumably displaying it to her pals at the restaurant right now.

Game Night is the following Friday. There are five days left until that. She not knowing what we were going to do or me knowing what we were going to do—who will break first?