2:45am. It was another late night working in my home office and I had to take a break.  I got up from my computer and walked over to my bookshelf.  Picking up a picture of my wife, I remembered that she tempted me with sex if I got to bed early.  I guess that was her way to get me to work less but I got so caught up in my work, I lost track of time.  And besides, I needed to get this work done.   Each hour I billed was money I needed to provide for my family another month.  Man, I hated being self-employed.

The hours were long, but I was able to make enough money for my family to have what it needed, and a little extra for what they wanted.  But it came with a price, and that price was my happiness.  Gone were the days it satisfied me to endure long hours working just knowing I was providing for my family.  I began to hate my life, and felt a prisoner in it.  I needed a change.  I loved my family and wanted to give them what they needed, but did my personal happiness have to be given up too?  I hadn’t been able to go out socially much in the last few years, and was starting to lose any spec of self-identity I had left.  I wanted my family to be happy, including me.  Was that too much to ask?

I examined the picture.  God, Meghan was beautiful.  She was the only woman I knew that got more attractive after having kids.  That natural beauty she had was rare.  She managed to look hot without even trying and could turn heads just wearing a pair of gym shorts or sweatpants and a t-shirt.   She had always had a nice figure, but didn’t have many curves when she was younger.  But after 2 kids, her hips widened, giving her those feminine curves.  She now had a sexy sway when she walked that had been lacking before.  And with some good fortune, I was able to provide her a new pair of breasts.  They were now about a C cup, full and perky.  Not “pornstar” size but instead they actually looked very natural on her frame.  So now her body had a very nice hourglass shape.  Still being able to be a stay at home mother, even though the kids were in elementary school now, allowed her to spend ample time at the gym.  She always complained she “wasn’t good at anything”.   I secretly begged to differ.  Aside from her being a good wife, mother, and friend, she was really good at taking care of herself.  At 32, she had the body of a woman 10 years her younger.  She stood about 5’7 and weighed about 125lbs.  She had full, wavy long blond hair that ran well past her shoulders.  Her slender shoulders and arms exaggerated her new breasts, and her flat stomach accented her waist line.  No “love handles” or “muffin top there; no way, she wouldn’t have it.  And her hips were curvy and full, yet athletic; and wholly feminine.  Her legs were amazing; long, tanned, and toned.  Even her feet were sexy.  They were, for the lack of a better word, dainty.  They were slim, smooth, and small; almost pixie-like.  Her arches were well defined, and her slim toes lined cascaded across her foot.  I had actually developed a small foot fetish because her feet were so nice.  Meghan’s skin had almost no blemishes, no spider veins or scars that you would typically see in a 32 year old mother of 2.  That’s what free time, a personal trainer, a tanning bed, and dedication to a healthy diet will do for you I guess.  I, on the other hand, had not aged well.

Long hours at work resulted in a poor diet and lack of exercise.  I was easily 30 pounds overweight.  I was shorter than her (which bothered me still even after all of those years), and my skin was pale from the lack of outdoor time.  But, for some reason, Meghan still loved me.  I guess it was because I sacrificed so much for her and the kids.  It was clear to her that I always put her first.  That, and (not to brag) I think I was pretty good in bed and could make her orgasm several times in one session.  I loved to make love to her.  Watching that beautiful creature moving around on top of me or wrapping those legs around me was heavenly.  She had no inhibitions in bed, and loved to get fucked.  It made me so happy to make her cum, and so I strived to make it happen not only every session, but multiple times in a session. 
Turning back to my computer, I saw it was finished processing some files, and I set the picture down and seated myself back in front of it.  It was like a hostage walking back into his cell and clamping the ball and chain back to his ankle.  Pushing on, I wrapped up what I needed to and laid my head down on my desk.  I was exhausted.  I was sad.  I was miserable.  I didn’t want to continue like this anymore.

As I laid there hunched over my desk, I closed my eyes and began pondering my unhappy predicament.  How did things get to this point?  What could I do to change this?  As I searched for answers, my tired mind began wandering.  I began thinking about the picture of my wife on the bookshelf.  She was happy.  She had everything provided for her.  She was beautiful and everyone desired to be around her.  Why did I have to do all the work while she reaped all the rewards?

As my mind raced in this new direction, images of her beauty ran through my mind and I began fantasizing about fucking her.  Falling asleep, the fantasy continued as a dream.  She was wearing a dark pink lycra chemise and strappy black five inch high heel sandals.  It was my favorite outfit for her, and she only wore it on special occasions.  I imagined I was lying on the bed, her straddled on top of me, riding on top of me upright so I could see all of that beautiful body of hers.  Leaning slightly forward on top of me, she braced herself with her hands on my chest, her long blond hair falling over the front of her shoulders.  Eyes locked on mine, she continued rocking her hips methodically, her sexy high heels rubbing slightly against my thighs.  I could feel her coming close to an orgasm. Her breathy panting was always so sexy.  And as she began building up to a climax, her eyes closed and she bit her bottom lip as it usually did, a sign of the joy that what was about to happen.  I could feel her thighs tighten around me as she squeezed her pussy around my cock to maximize her orgasm.  I closed my eyes, taking in the sensations.

Suddenly, I felt my weight change and felt myself sitting up.  Startled, I opened my eyes.  As I opened them, I was looking down at myself and strands of blond hair were in my peripheral vision.   Before I could react, the most erotic feeling radiated through my body and warm waves of pleasure ran through me.  The feeling was incredible.  But as quickly as it happened, it had ended and I awoke. Waking from the dream sweaty and with a huge erection, I remembered everything.  That brief moment of being Meghan, even for those few seconds, captivated me.
At that point, something inside me changed, and things were clear.  My questions were answered.  I had been spending my whole life providing my wife with everything that she needed and wanted.  The sacrifices I made for her benefit were causing me to envy her.  And as things for me got worse, I pampered her even more, mutating that envy into something more demented.  The best way I can describe it is like I was prepping her; giving her all the opportunities and tools to be beautiful and have a fulfilling life.  Why? Because I wanted her life.  I wanted to be Meghan.
The realization made me sick and I spent several minutes disgusted with myself for even thinking that.  As I tried to shake the thought of wanting her life, I realized I still had an erection.  Convincing myself that all I needed to do was go upstairs and wake my wife for quickie and then fall asleep, I would forget about all of this come the morning.
2:45am. It was another late night working in my home office and I had to take a break.  I got up from my computer and walked over to my bookshelf.  Picking up a picture of my wife, I remembered that she tempted me with sex if I got to bed early.  I guess that was her way to get me to work less but I got so caught up in my work, I lost track of time.  And besides, I needed to get this work done.   Each hour I billed was money I needed to provide for my family another month.  Man, I hated being self-employed.
The hours were long, but I was able to make enough money for my family to have what it needed, and a little extra for what they wanted.  But it came with a price, and that price was my happiness.  Gone were the days it satisfied me to endure long hours working just knowing I was providing for my family.  I began to hate my life, and felt a prisoner in it.  I needed a change.  I loved my family and wanted to give them what they needed, but did my personal happiness have to be given up too?  I hadn’t been able to go out socially much in the last few years, and was starting to lose any spec of self-identity I had left.  I wanted my family to be happy, including me.  Was that too much to ask?

I examined the picture.  God, Meghan was beautiful.  She was the only woman I knew that got more attractive after having kids.  That natural beauty she had was rare.  She managed to look hot without even trying and could turn heads just wearing a pair of gym shorts or sweatpants and a t-shirt.   She had always had a nice figure, but didn’t have many curves when she was younger.  But after 2 kids, her hips widened, giving her those feminine curves.  She now had a sexy sway when she walked that had been lacking before.  And with some good fortune, I was able to provide her a new pair of breasts.  They were now about a C cup, full and perky.  Not “pornstar” size but instead they actually looked very natural on her frame.  So now her body had a very nice hourglass shape.  Still being able to be a stay at home mother, even though the kids were in elementary school now, allowed her to spend ample time at the gym.  She always complained she “wasn’t good at anything”.   I secretly begged to differ.  Aside from her being a good wife, mother, and friend, she was really good at taking care of herself.  At 32, she had the body of a woman 10 years her younger.  She stood about 5’7 and weighed about 125lbs.  She had full, wavy long blond hair that ran well past her shoulders.  Her slender shoulders and arms exaggerated her new breasts, and her flat stomach accented her waist line.  No “love handles” or “muffin top there; no way, she wouldn’t have it.  And her hips were curvy and full, yet athletic; and wholly feminine.  Her legs were amazing; long, tanned, and toned.  Even her feet were sexy.  They were, for the lack of a better word, dainty.  They were slim, smooth, and small; almost pixie-like.  Her arches were well defined, and her slim toes lined cascaded across her foot.  I had actually developed a small foot fetish because her feet were so nice.  Meghan’s skin had almost no blemishes, no spider veins or scars that you would typically see in a 32 year old mother of 2.  That’s what free time, a personal trainer, a tanning bed, and dedication to a healthy diet will do for you I guess.  I, on the other hand, had not aged well.
Long hours at work resulted in a poor diet and lack of exercise.  I was easily 30 pounds overweight.  I was shorter than her (which bothered me still even after all of those years), and my skin was pale from the lack of outdoor time.  But, for some reason, Meghan still loved me.  I guess it was because I sacrificed so much for her and the kids.  It was clear to her that I always put her first.  That, and (not to brag) I think I was pretty good in bed and could make her orgasm several times in one session.  I loved to make love to her.  Watching that beautiful creature moving around on top of me or wrapping those legs around me was heavenly.  She had no inhibitions in bed, and loved to get fucked.  It made me so happy to make her cum, and so I strived to make it happen not only every session, but multiple times in a session. 
Turning back to my computer, I saw it was finished processing some files, and I set the picture down and seated myself back in front of it.  It was like a hostage walking back into his cell and clamping the ball and chain back to his ankle.  Pushing on, I wrapped up what I needed to and laid my head down on my desk.  I was exhausted.  I was sad.  I was miserable.  I didn’t want to continue like this anymore.
As I laid there hunched over my desk, I closed my eyes and began pondering my unhappy predicament.  How did things get to this point?  What could I do to change this?  As I searched for answers, my tired mind began wandering.  I began thinking about the picture of my wife on the bookshelf.  She was happy.  She had everything provided for her.  She was beautiful and everyone desired to be around her.  Why did I have to do all the work while she reaped all the rewards?
As my mind raced in this new direction, images of her beauty ran through my mind and I began fantasizing about fucking her.  Falling asleep, the fantasy continued as a dream.  She was wearing a dark pink lycra chemise and strappy black five inch high heel sandals.  It was my favorite outfit for her, and she only wore it on special occasions.  I imagined I was lying on the bed, her straddled on top of me, riding on top of me upright so I could see all of that beautiful body of hers.  Leaning slightly forward on top of me, she braced herself with her hands on my chest, her long blond hair falling over the front of her shoulders.  Eyes locked on mine, she continued rocking her hips methodically, her sexy high heels rubbing slightly against my thighs.  I could feel her coming close to an orgasm. Her breathy panting was always so sexy.  And as she began building up to a climax, her eyes closed and she bit her bottom lip as it usually did, a sign of the joy that what was about to happen.  I could feel her thighs tighten around me as she squeezed her pussy around my cock to maximize her orgasm.  I closed my eyes, taking in the sensations.

Suddenly, I felt my weight change and felt myself sitting up.  Startled, I opened my eyes.  As I opened them, I was looking down at myself and strands of blond hair were in my peripheral vision.   Before I could react, the most erotic feeling radiated through my body and warm waves of pleasure ran through me.  The feeling was incredible.  But as quickly as it happened, it had ended and I awoke. Waking from the dream sweaty and with a huge erection, I remembered everything.  That brief moment of being Meghan, even for those few seconds, captivated me.

At that point, something inside me changed, and things were clear.  My questions were answered.  I had been spending my whole life providing my wife with everything that she needed and wanted.  The sacrifices I made for her benefit were causing me to envy her.  And as things for me got worse, I pampered her even more, mutating that envy into something more demented.  The best way I can describe it is like I was prepping her; giving her all the opportunities and tools to be beautiful and have a fulfilling life.  Why? Because I wanted her life.  I wanted to be Meghan.

The realization made me sick and I spent several minutes disgusted with myself for even thinking that.  As I tried to shake the thought of wanting her life, I realized I still had an erection.  Convincing myself that all I needed to do was go upstairs and wake my wife for quickie and then fall asleep, I would forget about all of this come the morning.