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Conclusion to the Paul and Paige story.

She giggles slightly, and I knew she understood. "Do you fantasize about other women?" She asked, all giggles dissipating from the room.

"Well, sure" I said, going for broke now.

She let out a quiet "huh". She then reached over and kissed my lips as she lay down and pulled the cover up.


She had already rolled in the opposite direction, and I could tell I had pissed her off with my honesty. I lay down as well, but threw my arm over her and cuddled her close to me. "I love you." I said, kissing the back of her head.

When the alarm rang the next morning, I groggily smacked it to hit the snooze. Blinking the sleep from eyes as I sat up and looked at Ronnie sleeping soundly next me. Flashes of last night's discussion began to flood my head.

I honestly did not feel bad. I was honest and it's not like I pulled a Beth and dropped a bomb on her that she wasn't expecting. All I did was admit to fantasizing about women; perfectly normal for a man in his thirties, hell perfectly normal for a sixteen year old boy.

I went to the bathroom and began my morning routine with a shower. When I got back to the bedroom, I saw Ronnie sitting there, what I thought, was thinking about the fact I was human and think of other women; but I was soon going to find out that was not even close.

"Did you play with yourself in the shower, just now..." She said, in an oddly joking tone rather than the judgmental one I would have expected from her. "Thinking of all those women you fantasize about?" There it was, I thought.

I toweled off my hair and stared at her as I chucked the towel over my shoulder. "Not just now." I said undoing the towel around my waist and exposing my flaccid cock to her.

I could see her eyes dart down and give a good inspection.

I gave her a quick scolded look as I spoke. "So what, now I'm not supposed to jerk off anymore?"

She flashed a bit of a smirk. "I didn't say that." She got up from the bed and walked over to me grabbing my limp dick. "I'll just have to fantasize too." She snickered as she released my cock and headed out of the room.

I was dazed for a second trying to understand what the hell she meant by that last comment. My wife was not usually the revenge type of person, but that sure sounded like a threat. I quickly picked my towel up off the floor and sped off to follow her, wrapping it as I departed.

I caught up to her in the kitchen as I finished securing my towel. "What did that mean?" I questioned her.

She did not look back at me and merely continued making her coffee. "Exactly what I said" she dipped her spoon in the cup and began to stir the sugary coffee.

I walked over to where she stood at the counter and nudged her chin to look at me. She complied and smiled. "What the hell have you been masturbating to all these years, then?" I asked showing my confusion.

"Nothing, I just do it."

I looked at her speechless. "That's all it takes?"

She nodded and returned to her coffee. I stood there for several seconds contemplating the idea of not needing a thought or fantasy to get off. I myself needed porn. I couldn't even jerk off in the shower as evidentially my imagination was broken.

She grabbed her coffee and took a seat at the table. My eyes followed her as she walked and sat down.

"Is that so hard for you to believe?" She sipped her coffee and seemed to find humor in my epiphany.

I sat at the chair across from her and placed my elbows on the table to prop up my head. "So, you just wiggle your finger around and that's it?"

She giggled. "No." She wrapped both her hands around the cup sitting on the table. "I mean, I have a system to how I do it." Using both hands she picked up the cup and started sipping. "I just never think about anything."

The more I thought about it the more plausible it indeed sounded.

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