She Leads Us Down the Path

We were fucking less than thirty seconds later. As I entered a very wet pussy, she began talking. Usually it was me who initiated the fantasy talk, but today she immediately said, "you know how you talk about me being with another girl?" Of course I knew. It was, as I said, one of our standard discussion topics that never failed to make me cum.

I nodded.

"There was a girl in there," she said. "I could tell she was checking me out." I thought she was probably just toying with me, but I was already getting close to orgasm so I played along.

"Oh yeah? And you'd do her? Another girl?" I thought totally full of it.

"Well," she said, "this is going to be your best chance of ever making that happen. If I dance it could happen."

"Strip you mean." I said it because I wanted it to be clear in her head. "You'd be a stripper, not a dancer. Dancers are on stages in theaters. You'd be a stripper, showing your pussy for money." I guess I wasn't sure what her reaction would be. Her reaction once again showed me she not only was ok with the idea, but loved it. She thrust up towards me and held my cock in a viselike grip with her pussy.

She said, "I want them to see my pussy. I loved showing them my pussy today."

I came. It was too much for me, the realization that she'd shown her pussy to strange men and loved doing it. I'd left her without an orgasm, but that still happened occasionally and was no big deal. She was now toying with my softening cock with her left hand as she played with her pussy with her right. But with my orgasm, as it so often does, reality came rushing back at me. As I caught my breath I said, "you know you can't do this?"

She looked at me as if I'd somehow tricked her and was clearly pissed. She released my dick, got up, quickly dressed, and left the bedroom. As I lay there naked in the afterglow of an intense pleasure I heard the unmistakable sounds of dishes being slammed around in the kitchen. I followed her out. She continued her little display of displeasure while I like an idiot grabbed a book and pretended to read. After about thirty minutes she seemed to reach some boiling over point. She walked past me toward the bedroom door and stopped and said, "you better call your daddy to bail you out." And so saying, she slammed the door shut to punctuate her scorn.

I sat out there and thought she's right. I am a fucking failure for calling my dad for money at this age. The big college graduate, begging for a loan. I would call him though I decided. I was not going to let us move into the world inhabited by people who I wouldn't willingly associate with. I was not going to let other men stare at my wife nude on stage. And the back room, good god, they had their hands all over those girls. No, I was not going to let it happen. My wife was horny. She was worried, but that was not a path we would travel. We were respectable people. Poor right now, but respectable.

She was in there a long time. We'd had a drink or two as we made our way through those clubs and we both must have dosed off. Around eight that night she emerged from the bedroom. She was sorry she'd acted the way she had and we began to talk. She explained that it wasn't just the money, but a desire to try something exciting and something a bit taboo. She confessed that it was really a bit of a thrill, a desire to fulfill an exhibitionistic streak that I guess I didn't really know she'd possessed until that moment. Gradually I began to give in. I understood the desire to live out fantasies, but I still resisted.

I was wavering, but finally I reached what I thought was the right conclusion and said simply, "I want you to go home. Your parents can take care of you until things turn around for me." Her parents always had plenty of money. She was from a different world than I was and I wanted her to go back to that world. "I'll find a good job and we can back together if you want, but you cannot do this. I'd rather lose the girl I fell in love with than see you turn into someone you're not supposed to be." I remember those words distinctly. I remember the pain I felt at the decision that I was committed to, but I had to do the right thing.

She cried. We talked more and finally she said, "OK, we can do whatever you want, but I want something from you. Let me try this for one night. I'll try it one night and if we aren't both totally ok with it, it is done. I'll call my parents, we'll work it out somehow, but tonight I want to try it. "

For a number of reasons, but if I'm honest, and I'm trying to be as honest as possible here, mostly because by now I was horny again, I simply said, "OK, one night, but that's it."

She hugged me and turned to the phone. A shift was supposed to start around six or seven, but it was now nearly nine. A quick conversation with the manager transpired and I could only hear her side of it, but I saw her smiling. "They still want me to come in tonight. They say they are looking forward to me working there."

With this she went to the bedroom to start rummaging through her bikini drawer. I watched her and thought, I must be fucking insane. But I also felt myself getting hard. She had put on three inch heels now and of course they want you to work there, I thought, as I looked at those long legs. She was over six feet tall with those heels. I felt slightly sick to my stomach as I pictured her in heels on that stage. Lust and shame were battling for supremacy as I wondered again if I should stop her.

In short order she was about to head out the door. She gave me a big hug, towering over me in her heels now. Her makeup was normal, she looked like a tall normal girl, but she was about to go display herself nude for other men. Possibly let them touch her.

She kissed me and said, "don't look so serious. This is going to be fun." I looked dubious and so right before she closed the door she said, "I'll talk to that girl if she's still there. " And with that she was gone.

After an hour or so it was clear to me that she had actually stayed there. She had probably been on stage at least once I reasoned and I pictured it in detail. She'd chosen a simple black bikini. I pictured her going on stage in it, the topless with black bikini bottoms, then nude. I masturbated at least twice while she was gone, maybe three times. I remember wanting to cry each time after I came thinking about the huge mistake we were making. Then my lust would rise up again and I'd tell myself I was making a huge drama out of nothing. More accurately I told myself this was only a one-time thing.

She returned only a few hours later, but nothing would ever be the same again.

*

p.s. Many thanks to most of you for the feedback. I read and try to respond to all that I receive. For some reason I can't get this to accept a word file with proper indentation etc. Tired of wrestling with it so apologies for how this reads.