tagLoving WivesA Compromise Ch. 05

A Compromise Ch. 05


I stared at the person in the mirror. I didn't look any different. Something should be different, I thought. This was a sea change in my life. In a single evening I had gone from faithful, one man wife to,… what? What was I expecting? The sky to fall? I don't really know. I just thought that a change so significant might have shown in my eyes or in my face, … something. But there was nothing. Unless you count the lipstick now mostly gone, leaving traces smudged at the corners of my lips where Simon hadn't managed to chew it off.

Those same lips now smiled at me with the thought of dear, sweet Simon, slipping into me. He had been so gentle. I wiped the smile from my face, feeling guilty suddenly; not in making love to Simon, but in my own smirking satisfaction.

I began unbuttoning the black dress and then turned to hang it in the closet. I looked again in the mirror to see if I looked different. But the black lace bra gave no hint of the way he had shoved it up over my breasts in his eagerness for my breasts. Again, the silly smile had to be wiped away. My Panties were missing, though, the first hint of something amiss. I remembered Simon saying something about a souvenir as I slowly rubbed the triangle of hair and felt how matted it remained from out combined juices.

As I slipped first one black stocking and then the other down my legs, I lingered as I shook them straight and wound them into a ball around my hand. The sensual feel of the nylon reminded me of my next task in the plan. David frequently spoke of what I always considered the silly idea of public exhibitionism.

I started the shower and stood waiting for it to be warm. Curiously, I put one foot on the stool and examined my pussy with a small mirror. Smokey little hints of Simon's semen were there, white against the bright pink, as I spread my lips. I don't know what I expected to find. I was still looking for some change that the night might have made on me. I soothed myself a moment. It wasn't exactly sore, but it did feel like something large had just been there.

The shower felt wonderful, cascading down my body, and I bathed my pussy with the large fluffy bath mitt, stroking and soothing its folds in remembrance of the pleasureful usage it had just had. I watched the soap slide off my body, feeling very sensuous now, and then returned to my thoughts of exhibitionism and voyeurism that David seemed so interested in. Why, you might ask, am I going through all these practice sessions or dry runs on his fantasies? Why not simply go along with them as they come up? Ah, but you see, if I did that, I would be acquiescing; taking orders; just being lead. I don't think it is a healthy relationship if one partner just does what the other wants.

No, I have decided that my plan will be to lead, not just amble along. As an equal partner in dreaming up these things, it is my thought that David may satisfy his need. What will happen when he finds me leading and suggesting the next steps in sexual waywardness? I suspect he will be asking me to stop. That is the plan. If he doesn't, at least I will be good at the fantasies.

I turned off the shower and watched my nude body emerge as the steamed mirror slowly cleared. The big fluffy emerald green towel sucked up the water from my skin. As I brushed across my nipples, once again jutting with stimulation, I realized how tender they were. Simon had nibbled them a bit too firmly and they were complaining just a little.

I slipped nude between fresh sheets and lay staring at the ceiling for a long time, a friendly old Frank Sinatra tune soothed me with the words "she dances overhead, … on the ceiling, … near my bed, …" I fell asleep at last thinking, "I have been naughty, but … it is a necessary evil. It has a purpose."

Every girl is taught that "boys should not be permitted to see your panties." That is made clear at an early age. It is fortified by the intense and obvious interest boys have in doing just that. Strange, I always thought, "I mean, it is just your underwear, isn't it?" And we have no problem wearing the skimpiest bikinis at the swimming pool? And as cheerleaders it is highly proper to let everyone see snug little tights under our skirts. Right? Why then does the fascination for glimpses of our underwear continue with men, as near as I can tell, until they die? It's a puzzle?

On the other hand, making sexy and pretty undergarments must be a billion dollar business. I wondered for a moment if it was an even bigger market than automobiles - what a concept! I have to look that up sometime. Anyway, it is largely built around the idea of wearing things that are attractive and therefore to show to other people, so what is the big deal?

Oh, I know, I know. I'm just discussing the curious aspects of it. David is forever suggesting that I give "the boys" a show of my legs, panties, breasts, and so forth. I can understand how that could be a kick for me and the boys, if I were inclined toward that; but why is my husband turned on with the thought of knowing that I am showing myself to someone else? Now that is a question for the ages, in my opinion.

I'm not above feeling a little thrill when an attractive man is rendered slack mouthed and speechless by the sight down the front of my blouse, it is kind of a nice compliment. That is, if he is attractive and reasonably discreet about it. I admit to feeling good about a sidelong glance on a street corner when the wind whips my skirt up to show a little of my thigh. I admit all that. But David is talking about something deliberate, much more than that. So, I have to see what that will feel like on my own, before accepting his challenge. Today I am determined to become a bit more brazen and see what happens.

Maybe I am emboldened and feeling a little sexy after last night with Simon. The memory of his hands, of his cock touching my body so intimately, seems to stay in my mind.

Where to start? Well, one of the fables seems to be that shoe salesmen spend a lot of time dreaming of girls displaying themselves while trying on shoes. That sounds like an easy place to begin. I slipped into white panties and bra a really nice rust colored skirt, full and buttoned down the front. The tailored green blouse, an extra button left open, gave me a fresh, flirty look, I thought. My pantyhose were a warm, rich medium tan with a sheen that would glimmer over my thighs. As an after-thought I added a scarf tied loosely around my neck. I slipped my hands deep into the slash pockets of the skirt and examined the new me in a full-length mirror.

Just for a moment, I thought I saw the word "TRAMP" written across my forehead, but only for a moment.

The first target was a disappointment. Not that he wasn't interested, just the opposite. He was too obvious. And too Oily. I sat before him and he offered the first shoe, smiling as he slipped it onto my foot. I pulled the skirt back out of the way, thus letting several inches of golden, nyloned thigh open for his viewing pleasure as I gazed at the beige pump. From the corner of my eye I could see his eyes dart immediately to the offered flesh.

"No, … I don't think that is quite the color."

"Not a problem, let me show you another that I think might be better!" he said, eagerly bounding to his feet. He never took his eyes off my thighs as I handed the shoe to him. Smiling up at him, I pressed my hand down between my thighs, pressing the full skirt with it. Reluctantly, he backed away and around the corner of the shelves.

He was soon back and kneeling in front of me. I offered my foot and I felt his hand at the back of my leg as he "helped" me into the shoe. Giving an unnecessary little squeeze, he asked: "How's that! Looks beautiful on your foot!"

I could see that his cock was tenting his trousers already. "My god," I thought," this is too easy!"

I crossed him off my list and headed for lunch at Albert's, a popular little bistro with a few tables outside on the sidewalk. So far, I couldn't figure out the thrill that was supposed to come from exhibitionism. I closed my eyes for a moment and pointed my face up to the, luxuriating in the warmth. The book slipped from my lap to the floor with a loud clunk. As I retrieved it, I noticed the table of young executive-looking guys peering at me and exchanging comments under their breath. I crossed my legs, letting the slit of the skirt slip open along my leg. It didn't escape my notice that my legs looked particularly good with the sunlight glinting off the warm silky color of my pantyhose.

Again I closed my eyes and turned my face to the sun. But now, I didn't quite close them tightly. I could watch them while appearing to be completely unaware of their attention. They continued their talk, but each of them kept returning their gaze to my legs. I scratched my knee with long fingernails, toying with my leg. The reaction was immediate. It was as if they were watching from the corner of their eyes and the sensual gesture of my nails, like a caress, drew their eyes like a magnet. They were attractive guys and I found their interest pleasing, complimentary.

I swung my shoe loose, dangling it from my toe. Again they were drawn to my legs. Suddenly there was a noticeable tingle between my legs and my nipples felt crisp. I re-crossed my legs, taking my time, and then hiked my skirt another few inches up my thigh. The one nearest me, slowly and unobtrusively pressed his wrist against where his cock must have been prodding his pants, trying to hide the obvious.

I idly toyed with a button on my blouse, then opened one more button and spread it as if to get a little sun on my cleavage. I stroked between my breasts, as if smoothing it, or wiping away the perspiration from the hot sun. Their attention continued and, looking down at my sandwich, I spread my legs wide and pressed my wide skirt down between them. I have noticed that it makes a full skirt sexy when you do that. Even more sexy that a mini skirt, I believe.

After finishing the sandwich, I again relaxed under the rays of the sun, and watched them through my lashes as I slid my skirt even higher. I glanced down and noticed that the white flash of my panties was clearly open to their admiring stares. Now their full attention was on me, as their mouths hung slack. One licked his lips slowly, concentrating on me, and noticeably slumped in his chair to improve the view up my skirt. His eyes ran along the length of my golden thighs to the apparently mesmerizing sight of my panties.

It was a bit of an education. Reluctantly, they prepared to leave, lingering by the table, their stares still drawn to my body. As the waiter brought their change, they went out of their way to walk past my table on the way out, each in his own way smiling his pleasure toward me. Two of the four found a way to touch me as they passed, pretending an accident.

My panties were actually a little wet with the heady thought of their attentions. I paid my bill and headed home, my experiments as an exhibitionist a partial success.

It was the middle of the afternoon when I got home and Greg was cleaning the pool. Greg is about to enter his second year at college and cleans pools in the area to earn money. He has been around our neighborhood for years and I genuinely like him. I looked out the kitchen window to see his broad back under a bright green t-shirt and tight white shorts outlining his cute ass. A mischievous grin must have escaped me as I went out on the deck.

'Hi, Greggie! How's my handsome hunk?"

"Oh, hi Mrs. Martin, I'm fine, how's my very favorite customer today? And, wow, you look sensational. What's the occasion."

"You don't like the way I usually look?' I pouted as I sat down on the chaise, my skirt taking it's natural open drape once again.

"Oh, nnno, Ma'm, that's not it at all. I just mean you look especially nice in this outfit!"

I crossed my ankles and my legs looked long with the narrowing skirt slit pointing directly up toward my pussy, barely hidden above the top of the opening.

"'Mind if I soak up some rays while you work and slave away?"

"Nice having company!" He continued vacuuming the bottom of the pool, moving around to the other side to reach the rest of it. As he worked his way down, I again pretended to be snoozing, eyes half closed to watch the effect on Greg.

I drew my feet up on the chaise, aware that he could very likely see the pooched outline of my pussy lips under my pantyhose. My pussy was tingling a little as I pressed my thighs together a little tighter. I crossed my leg over and let my foot dangle. Greg moved along until he was opposite me. He stopped progressing along the side and tried not to be obvious as his eyes devoured me, searching for the best angle to see up my skirt.

Greg is such a cute young man, I must say I enjoyed his attentions. It made me feel so feminine, I guess. What did I want, though? Was the thrill of showing off and being appreciated enough of a thrill? I dunno. But he was definitely having an affect on me. My nipples jutted against the silky blouse and I folded my arms under my breasts, pressing them up and out. Poor Greg. I could see that his cock was taut against the leg of his shorts. He looked nice and firm; long and wide.

I heard David's car pull up the drive and the garage door open. But I continued to snooze, dropping one foot to the deck now, so that Greg had a view up my open thighs. After all, this sort of thing was really David's idea, so why stop and rush inside. What do they say? If you got it, flaunt it! The smirk on my face over that thought was so obvious I decided I had better go inside.

I paused and smiled across the cool blue water at Greg, my legs still spread, my skirt open to him. He smiled self-consciously and scurried along the pool brushing vigorously. His cock was almost straight out from his body, struggling to get loose.

"See you, Greg!"

"Uh, yeah, bye, Mrs. Martin. Nice seeing .. I mean, nice talking to you."

David was in his office. He always goes immediately to check his E-mail when he comes in, day or night.

"Hi, how was your trip?" I said brightly, sticking my head into the room. I noticed a blue logo on the screen; I thought it said something like "Literotic" or something. I remember thinking that was an unusual name, but didn't think much further.

"Oh, fine, yeah, fine." He muttered in a distracted tone, then the screen changed and he turned to me.

"Yes, good, how was your week?"

"New dress? Looks good!" He was lucky that he noticed, I can tell you.

I sat on the couch across from his desk and he continued fiddling with the computer, yawning and stretching.We exchanged reviews of the week and I put one foot on the couch, my split skirt opening.

Now, David has seen me in all states of undress, so why should he be turned on by the sight of my panties flashing at him? But, it was clear that he definitely was affected. Just like the guys at the restaurant, he stared up my skirt. He couldn't seem to get his eyes off me.

In no time, he was on me like a slightly crazed wild man. His hands found my thighs, sliding along the sleek nylon. His kiss was aggressive, his tongue immediately thrusting into my mouth as his hand reached the wet crease of my body. I thought that he must surely know something was going on for me to be wet already, but he didn't seem to think of that. He squeezed my pussy, his palm pressed tightly over the bulging mound with it's tangled patch of hair. His finger pressed along the crease of my pussy, searching for my clitoris and then circling it, pressing too hard to be pleasant. He was eager, it seemed.

He pressed harder with his finger and I realized he was going to tear a hole in my pantyhose. I waited pensively as he struggled. Nylon is a very tough fabric, you know. I was getting turned on in spite of myself by all this probing and pressing. David's finger searched up and down to find a weak point on the taut panel protecting my wet and tender pussy.

It was a little like when we were adolescents and he could not unsnap my bra. I always had to stop him before he broke something and then easily unsnap it for him, laying my breasts open to his eager tongue and hands. And now, I found myself helping once again. I ran my fingernail along the seam and finally, after a bit of a struggle of my own, managed to pop a little starter hole for him.

His strong finger found the hole and suddenly, -- I was exposed. He ripped violently, opening a huge, immediate, gaping hole in my pantyhose. The cool air bathed my hot pussy. It is probably as erotic a thing a man ever does to a woman. Tearing a whole in her pantyhose in his eagerness to get at her! It is an extremely erotic feeling when suddenly your skin is open to the air and then, of course, his tongue finds you. Oh my!

David was on the floor in front of me, both hands enlarging the whole as my legs were yanked from one side to the other under his rough struggling. And then his hands pulled my panties aside and I felt his face dive into me, his tongue darting out into the sopping wet secret of my body. His tongue coursed up and down the lips of my pussy and then as he spread my legs wider, he suckled my clitoris, pulling it firmly into his mouth and swirling it.

Feeling completely in control, because of his being wild with the look of me, the scent of me and whatever the hell else it is that drives men crazy about us, I gently guided his head where it could do the most good.

"Look how wet you've made me, darling!" I said, a bit disingenuously.

This stimulated him to an even more savage attack on my soft folds, ending with him raring up on his hind knees - I mean that would be right, wouldn't it? I know men can't really be thought of as having fore and hind legs, but that is what it looks like when a man kneels in front of you intent on thrusting into you. I mean, think about it, I bet you would say the same thing. There they stand, looking like their legs are through the floor and their cock is straight out, like it might be the only thing that keeps them from slipping though the hole in the floor!

Anyway, what I really needed, was him to rip off the panties too, but he just pushed the crotch aside and his cock was suddenly out of his pants and pressed against the vestibule of my sex.

"So, you were all wet thinking about me coming home, eh?"

"mmmmm." I replied coquettishly. His cock head slipped into my warmth just as I mumbled this reply.

"Well, good. I wanted you to be wet and ready! Been thinking about your pussy all the way home."

I decided that was probably not strictly true. It gave me something to wonder about, too. Why was he in such a rush and so ready to slam his big cock into me?

I felt him pressing deep into me now and his hair mingling with mine as the hard bony mounds of our pubis' pummeled each other. Again and again he slipped deep into me. I spread wider for him and felt his body flat against me, his straight cock reaching deeper into me. His cock was hot and the skin velvet-like. I reached between us to feel it sliding in and out. My lips were tucked in slightly and then released on the outstroke. I had to stop use both hands to hang on for dear life as he pounded into me, breaking into a terrific sweat with his exertion.

All that thinking about what had turned him on so quickly, meant that I didn't have an orgasm fast enough. He slumped against me, spent and sweaty and asking if I had come. His exhausted voice let me know there was no hope from him.

I mumbled something short of saying 'yes' and felt his sperm slipping out of my vagina and down around his now flaccid cock.

"What was the name of that website?" I mused aloud.

"Uh, what? Oh, I dunno." he replied.

I knew I had one more task ahead that might affect the plan.

To Be Continued...

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