Our sex life was still phenomenal, but I added a secret, mental ingredient to it, unknown to Louise. Now, during foreplay, I set up a role-play scenario in my mind. I became someone else. I became the man that I most (on that particular day) wanted to see fuck her brains out. Sometimes, I was the guy who always followed her around at church. Sometimes, I became one of the three or four guys who always hit on her at her gym. Sometimes I was one of my gym friends or one of her literary friends. Louise was an aspiring novelist at the time ... she was about to conclude the writing of her first novel, and so she had developed a fairly large set of "literary friends." More than half of them were male, although of those, I suspected the majority was gay. But there were some definitely horny heterosexual guys in Louise's literary set, guys I had met, and into whose eyes I had peered. In two or three of them, the raging horniness for my wife was palpable. They wanted to get into her panties. When she returned she was carrying several usually innocent household implements. My eyes widened fearfully. Sarah smiled playfully and waved her hand over the tray, teasing me as she made her selection. The clothes pegs were the first items to be applied. I arched and cried out as the steel spring made the first wooden peg close tightly on my left nipple, I had never felt a pain like it, sexually. I shuddered, began to sweat, and the dazzling heat of a sensual agony spread through my flesh like a creeping tide."You like that don't you," she said, which wasn't a question, but a statement. Amazingly, I did like it, very much. I whimpered my assent, and as a reward, my other nipple was also clamped in the jaws of a peg. It was excruciatingly, unbearably exquisite. I writhed, and groaned and struggled, utterly unable to change my circumstances, even if I had wanted to. After a few seconds the pain dulled to a sensual glow. It wasn't to last. With vicious little flicks at the pegs, Sarah.
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