Once it has sunk in that they really have won the lottery, Sara can't help wanting to celebrate with her husband in a very intimate way...

Sara pulled Guy into her arms. 'Let's go upstairs!' she whispered. 'I want us to celebrate in our own way - you know how!'

There was an itch that needed scratching, and more than just physical. Sara needed the reassurance of his loving, to assuage the weird feelings that were irritating her inside. She should have been over the moon, one-hundred-per-cent happy. Why on earth wasn't she?

'I don't know if I can manage anything,' Guy warned.

'Don't worry,' Sara grinned. 'I'll do all the work!'

She could feel the hot pulse between her thighs, making her heart race, making her wet. As soon as they got into the bedroom she pulled her husband's T-shirt over his head and ran her hands over his smooth, warm chest. She slipped his belt through the buckle and unzipped his jeans, then crossed her arms in front of her chest and pulled off the T-shirt she'd slipped on that morning. She wore no bra, and her breasts were full and heavy, the ripening nipples firming even more on exposure to the air until they protruded with tingling stiffness.

'Lie down!' she told Guy, once he had taken off his trousers. His pants showed the beginning of an erection, something to work on. She began to knead his packet softly through the loose cotton and he gave a groan in response. Soon she was straddling him. 'Lick my tits, Guy! Make me feel like a million dollars!'

He laughed, rather self-consciously, and she saw a flame of excitement flicker in his dark brown eyes. Poor thing, she thought. He seemed even more overwhelmed than she was. She longed for him to let go of the shock, the fear, the superstitious belief that he didn't deserve it. She wanted him to begin to enjoy the prospect of all that money, all that freedom. Until he did it was impossible for her to fully experience those positive feelings herself.

Slowly his open mouth approached her swaying breasts, fastened on a nipple and began to suck. Sara felt her insides contract with heightened desire and she began to squeeze his cock more purposefully through his cotton boxer shorts. It began to firm up to most satisfactory dimensions, and Guy's mouth suckled harder as his excitement grew. She lifted the waistband of his shorts and the tumid glans thrust itself into her hand, seeking stimulation.

'Oh God, we can do anything we want now!' Sara murmured, the realisation hitting her anew for the umpteenth time.

But then came a wicked murmur in her ear, 'And have anyone we want, too?'

Sara ignored the siren voice, bending down her head to give Guy's now-rampant penis a tonguing. Already the glans was becoming salty with his juice, so she would have to go carefully. It would be a disaster if he came before she could get him inside her. She gave his shaft a last, loving sweep with her tongue then positioned herself so that she could dock his glans in her entrance.

For a while she squeezed him, making the ring of muscle clutch repeatedly at his rock-hard erection, enjoying the rapid fluttering in her vagina that was prelude to the satisfaction of having him fill her up. When she could bear the suspense no longer she began to inch down on him, her vaginal muscles still working rhythmically, milking mutual pleasure from the rigid organ. She wiggled and thrust her hips to wrest every nuance of delight from the contact, the nerves in her clitoris zinging with excitement as she propelled herself closer to orgasm.

Through the blurred haze of her consciousness Sara was thinking, 'Over a fucking million! We're going to be millionaires, for God's sake!' Then her mind began to open up with possibilities, turning their love-making into a fantasy fuck. Except now things were different. She could dream of making love on exotic beaches and in luxurious hotel-rooms all she liked, but whereas only yesterday they would have been wild dreams, now they were wishes that could easily be fulfilled.

Sara pictured a warm, deserted beach with the soothing sound of lapping waves and the distant cries of birds. The sand would be pale and virgin, the vegetation that fringed it lush and shady. The body that lay so welcomingly outstretched would be tanned and muscular, perfectly proportioned. She tried to turn it into Guy's body but somehow the metamorphosis just wouldn't take place. The eager lover with the finely-honed physique and the large, meaty penis was also possessed of a film-star face, and no amount of trying could superimpose her husband's familiar features on that make-believe hunk.

Giving up the struggle with a sigh, Sara sank into the fantasy and let it take her where she wanted to go. For months this had been the pattern on the rare occasions when they made love: she could only come if she pretended that she was making love to a stranger. Of course she felt guilty about it, but she reasoned that it was better to do it that way than not at all. At least Guy got his rocks off too.

The dream lover was crooning softly at her, 'You're so-o-o beautiful, babe!' while he swivelled his pelvis in a sensual horizontal dance, making his thick rod move around like a spoon, stirring the mixture of warm flesh and sticky juices that was her vagina. That million dollar feeling was dawning in her soul, lifting the whole experience onto the plane of the miraculous. The hot throb of her clitoris was driving her now, her sexual excitement almost matching the thrill of winning. Somehow they merged in her psyche, so that she felt as if she were about to gain the whole world. A huge thrill of exhilaration shuddered through her, almost as intense as an orgasm but not quite. The sensation of richness was filling her senses, making her feel so much more alive.

His cock was like a golden finger deep inside, stroking her tenderly while his lips and tongue poured warm honey over her nipples. He was in love with her, this handsome stranger, he'd do anything to please her! Sara pictured sliding off his erection for a few minutes while he licked her pussy, something that Guy would do only rarely and reluctantly. Her imagination transformed his penis into a warm, agile tongue that knew exactly how to make the kind of delicate strokes that nudged her clitoris towards ecstasy.

Sara was on the brink and she wanted to come, badly, but something was holding her back. She felt guilty. The knowledge that Guy had become de-personalised, that he was no longer her desired husband but just a token male, a convenient penis, was making her ashamed. She growled out her frustration and resurrected the image of the anonymous lover. He was entering her from behind now - ah, that was better! - clutching at her swinging breasts from behind while he dived into her with all the might of a pile-driver.

The climax that had been evading her now began to break, like a glorious sunrise, filling her body with the welcome spasms of release. Moaning in bliss, Sara fell forward onto her husband's prostrate body, which in her fantasy became hot sand. His penis twitched inside, needing more stimulation before it could find the satisfaction it craved. But, for the time being, Sara was locked in her own private heaven and could do no more for him.