I watch my husband type at his computer. He doesn’t realize how handsome he is. I imagine his breath on my neck, his cock straining to escape his pants, his love for me. I imagine him, in the middle of a mild disagreement, stopping suddenly and ordering me to be ready to receive his dick. I imagine that I am the woman who can make him happy. I stop eating. Not because I want to, but because the smell of food makes me nauseous. I find myself living on black coffee and red wine, wishing I still smoked. If my husband notices my lack of appetite he doesn’t comment. I decide to write a fantasy and email it to him. I’ve tried it before, but maybe this time it will work. An honest moment when I ask for what I want. This is what I write:When I walk into the house, a dining chair is in the middle of the room with a coil of rope curled up on it. My heart begins to pound and I blush furiously. You tell me to take off all my clothing and put on a dress. After I’ve complied you. I still don't know what they think is so funny about the dogs eating some poor cat."Now I have to say at this point we were all almost hysterically laughing. I looked over at Kat again and she was glaring at me, almost as red as her hair with tears running down her cheeks. She shook her fist at me, but never stopped laughing."Will somebody please tell me what's so funny? I worried about that poor kitty getting eaten by the dogs all night long. I even walked around the house looking for the poor thing. He wasn't in any of the trees and I didn't see any hair in the yard."I got up and went to the front porch. I couldn't help myself. It was either that or try to explain to him and since he was looking at me, I had to get away. I figured I would let someone else explain this one to him. I plopped down on the bench and realized I had forgotten my coffee, but I wasn't about to go back after it. I finally was able to calm down enough so that I was just chuckling when Kat came out, sitting.
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