Deepest Darkest

A Brief Scenario From Jonathan Quincy Graves

“Anything?”

“Yes, sure, anything you want. No limits. I trust you, and you know you can trust me.”

Jim and I had been at a barbecue down the block with two other neighbor married couples. And, of course, along with ribs, potato salad and baked beans, there was an ample supply of beer. When Jim has a few, he gets amorous, and sometimes a little silly. This night, when we got home, as we were getting ready for bed, he suggested a new game.

“Beth, why don’t we try something different to liven up our sex lives?”

I didn’t know how to take this comment at first. “Is there something wrong with our sex life? Do I not turn you on anymore?”

I was taking off my blouse as I asked that question and I turned to face him. Jim had taken off his pants, so I could see the answer in the bulge of his briefs. He is definitely a tits man.

“No, I mean yes, I didn’t mean it that way. I just thought it might be fun… for both of us.”

“Okay, what did you have in mind?”

“Well, I thought it might be fun to act out our deepest, darkest, most private fantasies.”

“You realize, I hope, that our deepest and darkest fantasies are usually kept deep and dark for good reason?”

“Well, yes, normally, but we’ve been married for fourteen years now…”

“Fifteen years and, um, eight months,” I corrected.

“Okay, so we’ve been married for fifteen years and eight months now, and I think we can each listen to the other without being judgmental, even when revealing our deepest, darkest. Don’t you?”

“Well, that might depend on what those deep, dark fantasies might be,” I said.  “Say, for example, it was my deep, dark fantasy to be married to a real sissy. One I could dress like a little girl, lock his little cock in a chastity cage, spank his little bare bottom until he cried, take his boi pussy with my biggest strapon, and just generally dominate and humiliate him for the rest of this year? What would you say to that? Would you still want to play this game?”

“The rest of this year? That’s like nine months. It’s only March. And… Wait a minute. You have a big strapon?!”

I noticed his member had not wilted as I described a theoretical deep, dark fantasy I made up on the spot. If anything, it had grown, pushing his briefs out further. Interesting.

“That was a for instance,” I said, “and you did not answer the question. If my deepest darkest were something like that, something that affected you in direct conflict with your pride or self-image. Would you really want to learn something like that about me? That my deepest, darkest kinked in a direction like that? Would your commitment to be nonjudgmental hold up to that kind of pressure? And, more to the point, would you still want to play this game and act out such a fantasy with me?”

“Well… That—what you said—that was a ‘for instance.’ Right? So, yes, why not. It was my suggestion in the first place. But that raises an issue. I was thinking we could each share our own fantasy, and we could act them both out.”

“That could be a problem, depending on what our fantasies were. In the example I gave, we could only satisfy both our fantasies if yours mirrored mine. If yours was to be treated as a sissy, dominated, punished and humiliated. Or, alternatively, we would have to take turns acting out our deepest darkest. In that case, since it was your idea to play this game, I would get to go first. That’s only fair. One proposes, the other chooses. That’s how it’s done.”

“Yeah, I guess,” he said. He sounded a little bewildered now, probably wondering what my deepest, darkest fantasy might actually be, given I came up with such a kinky example. Or, it could just be the beer.

“So,” I said, “do you still think this living-our-fantasies thing is a good idea?”

“Well,” Jim said, “like I said before, I trust you and would not think less of you, no matter what your fantasy might be. So, sure. Let’s do it. Might be fun.”

“Tell you what,” I said, “you’ve had a few beers, and might regret this suggestion tomorrow. So, let’s do this:

• “Let’s think about it for the next few days. Then it won’t be the beer and it won’t be a spur-of-the-moment thing.
• “If we are still interested on Monday, we can each write down our fantasy, seal it in an envelope and put it on the mantel over the fireplace.
• “Either of us can remove our own envelope at any time if we get cold feet, but there must be no peeking into the other person’s envelope.
• “If both envelopes are still up there Friday night, the game is on. We will share our fantasies and discuss the details—who will do what to whom.

“Make sense?”

“Sounds a little elaborate, but sure, why not. Oh boy, I’m hammered and about to fall asleep. Good night, Beth.”

“Good night, Jim.”

~~oo000oo~~

So, Dear Reader, will Jim and Beth go through with this game?  Was Beth’s example a clue to what she would really like? Will Jim even remember this discussion come morning?

Here is a thought exercise for the reader:

1. If you were either Jim or Beth, what would be in your envelope?
2. Would these envelopes—yours and your other’s—still be on the mantel come Friday night?
3. Would this little game lead to a quick appointment in divorce court?

Remember, no peaking.

END

Copyright © 2021 by Jonathan Quincy Graves. All rights reserved.  Please do not repost or use for any commercial purpose without written approval from the author.