I often tell my Dearly Beloved he should take comfort in the fact that all of my sexual fantasies about other men basically feature me and the other man having sex precisely as it proceeds in our conjugal bed, it's just that the fantasy man is not my Splendid King.
He gets a confused look on his face, perhaps as he dithers between feeling hugely victorious or darkly threatened.
"Hey, at least you're still the captain of the ship," I offer.
I always get mad when I have a dream that is sexual in nature, but features my husband instead of, say, that one guy who worked at the car place and whose nametag said James. Shouldn't a person be allowed to screw James in a dream without a lot of brouhaha?
So James, if you're out there, hop on over to my dreamland sometime. Just make sure you know how to swing it like a Goat.