Annette, My Challenging Wife

A short story, dedicated to AnnetteBishop.

I know nothing about her, she may not even exist in reality, but I like the comments she has made about other people's stories.

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My wife is a very attractive woman; that's why I married her after all, but within months of marrying, I realised that our life together would be, how can I put it? - Challenging.

So what is the problem? - Men's desire for my wife.

Every man I have ever met desires Annette, you can see it in their eyes. On first meeting her, they try their hardest to make polite conversation but soon their eyes wander downwards, their conversation becoming stilted as those lust filled eyes flit constantly to her chest or, when she walks away, to admire her legs or plump little butt.

For those men who know her, once I am out of earshot their conversation becomes flirtatious, they make slightly suggestive comments or accidentally brush against her, immediately apologising for their clumsiness when she objects.

Annette you see, is a one man woman. We met when very young, only had sex once married and neither of us has ever wanted anybody else. We are also totally honest with each other, which helps me understand her situation.

That honesty is why I know how men behave around her, she tells me everything, which is why I trust her and always have.

When we were single, she would tell me about men approaching her in clubs, offering to buy her a drink, leering drunkenly at her chest, that part of her body which has grown, along with her personality, over the years.

When she was single, men would make a grab for her small frame in clubs, desperate to be seen dancing with her. After we met, I would often see men dragging her off to dance when my back was turned, clearly revelling in holding her slim busty frame as they dragged her around the dance floor until she managed to fend them off when the song ended.

She would always be excited after a night at those clubs, telling me how she loved dancing, even when a strange man grabbed her and whisked her away, eventually making a habit of dancing with single men whenever we had a night out.

She would always apologise afterward, teasing me by saying how strong the man was, his big arms holding her so tight that she couldn't escape his clutches in the crowd. Eventually she would say, she had to give in, relax and enjoy dancing with him.

She would say that these men only wanted to dance and that she enjoyed getting out on the floor and letting herself go. Some of the clubs had soul sessions and that was where Annette really let her hair down.

I'm a hopeless dancer, my height and frame making me ideal for rugby, but not for dancing, so I eventually let her dance with guys, knowing that she would always come back to me, excited and happy.

After we married and began having regular sex, one thing began to worry me though.

Annette, as I have mentioned, had big breasts. They looked very impressive then, on her tiny frame and were the first thing most men would notice on meeting her. I soon realised that they were also central to her sexual desire, being the trigger for her arousal as well as showing clear evidence of that arousal.

Caressing them would make her breathing heavy, touching the nipples would make her squirm, kissing and sucking them could even trigger an orgasm at times.

But her breasts also vividly betray how aroused she is. The nipples stand rigid, the skin flushes bright red and they seem to swell as she becomes visibly excited.

So that is what worries me - she is still very attractive and is easily aroused.

I clearly remember those nights in the clubs, when men had dragged her away to dance. She always returned with a flushed chest, swelling out of her top, her nipples clearly visible. It seemed that dancing sexually aroused her.

Once I realised this, we discussed it and Annette admitted that she had found it arousing, especially if the man had held her tight to make sure that they stayed together amongst the crowded dancers. She soon realised that being held tight, unable to escape, excited her.

It would appear that the men found it arousing too, presumably as they saw or felt her nipples stiffening. Annette said that she would soon feel the man's penis pressing against her as they got hard from the feeling of her breasts pressing against them in the crush on the dance floor.

Annette admitted to enjoying those feelings, knowing that she was exciting the man, whilst she too got aroused, telling me that she would sometimes deliberately object and struggle when they whisked her away, just enough to make them hold her tighter, but not enough to make them shy away.

As they started to dance, she would put her hands down to their hips, as if to push them away, letting the jostling from other dancers let her hand accidentally slip to their groin to brush past their stiff cock, before quickly taking that hand away and pressing it gently against their shoulder, looking shocked and pushing them away, knowing the effect she was having on them.

Although she did not put it into words, I imagined that the last reaction, pushing their shoulders away, was her final tease before parting company and returning to my protection. A natural reaction would be for the man to tighten the grip on her waist, involuntarily pushing his erection into Annette's groin.

So now I had to come to terms with Annette being a very attractive and easily aroused prick teaser.

You see why our marriage was challenging.

She would tell me that if the man was a good dancer, she would let her eyes close, letting the music and the dance put her into a trance. As they danced she would fantasise of the man holding her tight, forcing her down and having sex on the dance floor. She would dream of writhing around naked with that man, his strong arms holding her tight as the heavy bass of the music throbbed through her body as she struggled to escape the man's grasp until she finally submitted to him, groaning with pleasure as he entered her, the other dancers gathering round and cheering them on as he thrust into her in time with the music.

Annette. My attractive, easily aroused, prick teasing wife, with a fantasy for forced public sex.

What could possibly go wrong?

So now you will understand why I have always found it difficult to be married to Annette. Despite her honesty and assurance that she has no ambition to make those fantasies real, I constantly worry that she will go out for a night, only to come back and tell me how she had given herself to another man. Hypnotised by music or dance, and aroused by a forceful man, she may inevitably submit, writhing around in ecstasy, nipples standing stiff, swollen breasts flushed red with passion.

But, ten years on from our marriage, this has never happened. Annette remains faithful to me, I know that and we remain firmly dedicated to each other, with no secrets between us.

So I was happy when my still beautiful and desirable wife, albeit a now mature and full bodied Annette, even more desirable and beautiful in my eyes, decided to start going to dance classes with her friends.

She knew of my fears and was keen to allay them, assuring me that her friends would keep her safe, that the instructor was female and that her friends told her no men attended.

In addition, she showed me the dance hall's website which, once signed in to a secure web page, had a live stream of the classes.

I couldn't imagine poring over her every move, spying on her, so put her mind at rest and told Annette that I trust her, to go with my blessing and to enjoy herself.

Three weeks later, Annette had increased her subscription and was now going to dance classes three times a week, she enjoyed it so much.

Every night, I would see my wife leave to dance, then return rejuvenated, like an excited teenager, full of fun, with joy in her eyes.

She now lived for those classes and was a better person for it, slimmer, fitter and sexier than ever.

******

We were both getting to that stage of life where our work life threatened to dominate our lives, so we decided to take stock of our situation.

Annette was in a dull office job and I was moving to a position which required more travel, spending days away from home.

It all sounded exotic, spending three days in a Mediterranean resort, but in reality, I spend a day travelling there and another coming back, with three nights stuck in a hotel room on my own. While I was away, Annette would be desperately lonely, with only her dance nights to look forward to.

Annette had excelled at those dance classes and had started helping the instructor with her teaching in return for free sessions. So, when the club that we spent many nights in as teenagers advertised a job teaching dance, she jumped at it, leaving her dull job to take middle aged women for dance sessions, five evenings a week.

One thing worried me though. Annette told me that men had started to come to some of her classes. As her classes started to build in numbers, one woman dragged her husband along to a class. He apparently enjoyed it and told some friends, who also joined their wives. Ten men had now joined, all in the new classes that Annette now ran.

It seemed clear to me, the men found the sight of Annette in a tight dance outfit far preferable to her middle aged mentor, who ran the original classes.

I imagined the men all dancing at the back, leering at my sexy wife, ignoring their own wives wobbling bodies. They would then rush home, strip the sweaty clothes from their wives and lay them down, ravaging their sweaty bodies whilst imagining they were having sex with Annette.

Annette was smart enough to know how men's minds worked, but I promised myself that we would sit down and discuss things when I got home from my latest trip.

Sitting in the bar of a Spanish hotel, finishing a horrendously expensive but dreary burger, I watched people wandering back and forth through the hotel atrium.

Two overweight, middle aged men sat at the bar leering at a group of Spanish business women relaxing over a drink. I found neither of them sexy, all skinny with pulled back hair with pale olive skins from too much time in an office. All women seem uninteresting to me I realised, they couldn't compete with my Annette.

That thought instantly made me feel homesick so, with the bar filling up and getting increasingly noisy, as people filtered in after a long day, looking for refreshment and relaxation, it seemed a good time to finish up and go back to my room. My thoughts drifted to Annette, wishing I was with her and wondering what she was doing right now.

She would be driving to a class I guessed, or setting up the club's small events room for her session, polishing the mirrors, changing into her skimpy dance outfit, setting out her dance mat and arranging some suitable music with the DJ.

The DJ. I'd never thought about him. There would be at least one man at all of her sessions, of course there was, somebody she might end up getting close to. The man who arranged her music set, before moving into the main club to set up his own session later that night could be her temptation.

I recalled Annette saying he was gay, so not to worry but, despite the fact that I trusted Annette, I couldn't trust any man, so remained suspicious. I trusted no man with my wife. Was he really gay?

For peace of mind, I needed to remember the login for the dance hall's live feed and watch her session.

Back in my room, I fumbled around with my laptop, using the work arounds that my friend in IT had told me about, to avoid the company protection and monitoring and then trying to find where I had written down the passwords for the club's web page.

It took me an hour before the feed finally popped up on my screen. There was Annette, at the front of about twenty women, looking fantastic in her new outfit, breasts barely contained in a tight lycra dress.

It was a surprisingly high quality video feed, with several cameras to choose from along with a zoom function which allowed me to expand the view to watch Annette in close up, allowing me to admire my wife and her sweaty breasts, bobbing gently in time with the music, which was loud and full of bass.

The class, all women thankfully, were following Annette's moves, mostly clumsily and out of time with the music's rhythym, especially those at the back, but the front line were all synchronised with Annette as she threw herself into the routine.

I watched and felt proud of her, clearly enjoying herself whilst holding the attention of a room full of women, all clearly having a great time.

My worries abated and I soon got tired of the sight of flabby backsides in tight lycra wobbling around and turned away to turn on the TV.

As usual, fifty seven channels and nothing on, mostly in Spanish.

With the laptop still running and the sound of the music from Annette's session drowning out the TV, I moved across to turn it off, intending to go back down to the bar to resume my people watching, when I suddenly realised that the dancing had stopped.

Some women were screaming and running around, while three men were standing at the door holding guns, their faces hidden beneath balaclavas.

Annette bravely confronted them, but they were not about to be ordered about by a woman. One of the men roughly grabbed her, gripping her arms by her side and dragging her away.

The men were all shouting, the music still blaring, setting the room into total panic, the women being pushed into a corner and made to sit facing the wall.

Annette was the only woman still in view of the camera, still held by one of the men. Zooming in, I could see her struggling and trying to talk to the man, his mouth clearly telling her to "shut the fuck up" as he tucked his gun into his waistband.

Annette had fear in her eyes and I reached for my phone, intending to alert the police. It suddenly occured to me that I had no idea how to call the emergency services from a foreign country and was now panicking as I watched Annette struggle with the man holding her.

The other men were pushing all of the other women out of the room, shouting something back to their friend, who was still firmly holding a struggling Annette. The men and the others could be seen through a glass screen window being tied up alongside a man who I presumed to be the DJ, a small, very effeminate looking guy, the only man amongst all those women, who clearly had no chance against three men with guns.

He was tied face to face to a woman old enough to be his mother, her backside bulging out of the lycra, her breasts pressed hard against his face. I could see one of the men laughing at his predicament as he disappeared from view.

Meanwhile, Annette was still alone, with the man still holding her arms by her side to restrain her, the dance students now tied together and staring at them through the glass.

All the time, music blared out, making it look like the scene from a Tarantino movie, but thankfully minus the blood so far.

Annette had stopped struggling and the man had turned her to face him, his hands tightly holding her arms.

He was staring at her chest, just as most men did, leering at what he saw. I zoomed in further and could see Annette breathing heavily from the struggle.

She writhed against his grip and he pulled her tighter to him, her arms tightly held behind her back, stopping her hands from scratching at his face whilst he spoke into her ear, his hand going down to his waistband and that gun.

Her hands relaxed and she stopped struggling, prompting the man to release his grip and turn her to face the glass before wrapping his hands around her once more. I could only see their back view but it was obvious that he held her breasts in his hands, the look on the women's faces showing horror and disgust at his actions, shouting at him through the glass as the music stopped suddenly.

He dragged her away, steering her toward the mirror at the front of the room, pressing her hard against it to prevent her escaping his clutches. The music started again, a drum and bass track which Annette had always liked, the deep booming filling my ears even through the laptop's tinny speakers.

Annette was now still as I watched the man's hands reflected in the mirror. They were firmly grasping her breasts, the flesh bulging from her top and crushed against the glass.

As he pulled her back toward him I noticed how flushed her chest was and, as he loosened his grip, I could see stiff nipples poking between his fingers.

Annette looked different now. There was no panic in her eyes, instead she looked resigned to her situation, being held hostage whilst this man's friends were presumably searching out any money and valuables to rob.

The man now held her more loosely, as she had stopped struggling, but his hips were pressed firmly against Annette's backside, holding her against the mirror while he shouted something toward his fellow robbers.

Everything seemed calm now, but Annette was still being physically restrained by a muscular man. I guessed what Annette's reaction would be in that situation, once the initial threat faded and wasn't surprised when her hands reached round behind her, pushing his hips away from her.

Was she pushing him away or trying to disarm him?

Another thought occured to me. Was she feeling for his erection, which, along with that gun, would be pressed hard against her?

As her hands moved between them, he spoke into her ear again, his hands massaging her breasts, triggering her head to move back, her sweaty blonde hair smothering his face as he nuzzled her neck before reaching down to remove the gun and drop it to the floor.

It looked like Annette was inexplicably finding the situation arousing and there was nothing I could do to stop it. I realised that and was now transfixed, just as the hostages were, watching helplessly as Annette seemingly submitted to this man's strength and virility.

Another thought occured to me. Was she risking her life by distracting him, only to grab the gun when he was distracted, maybe with his trousers round his ankles?

Annette's breasts were now showing, the man having dragged her dress down at the top, one hand kneading a nipple while the other was pulling her dress up at the bottom, her naked backside coming into view.

I stared in disbelief. She had left the house without underwear, just to do a dance class. What was she thinking and why did she feel the need to dance without any underwear?

Just as I was thinking this through, wondering if she was having an affair with somebody there, I watched his hands move up to grasp her stiff nipples once more, rolling them gently, his foot kicking the gun away.

I looked with dismay at the reflection of Annette's face contorted in a silent scream as one hand moved down between her legs, indicating that he had slipped a finger into her, the silent scream signalling her pleasure.

Annette's hand seemed to be gripping the man's cock through his clothing and her hips were writhing, pushing back and upwards, clearly enjoying the feeling of it rubbing against her, writhing slowly between her butt cheeks, maybe probing at her entrance.

He was clearly enjoying the sensation, pulling her hips back to him with his fingers, thrust deep into Annette's pussy, while gripping one breast so tightly it was blood red.

Annette gave another silent scream as the man's fingers did their work and brought her to orgasm, leading to her collapsing in a heap on the floor, just as the music quietened, then burst out even louder.

He was standing over her, leering at the women watching horrified through the glass at the scene unfolding before them, the man's erect cock coming into view as he dropped his trousers and knelt between Annette's legs, pulling them slowly apart to give him a good view of her neatly trimmed pussy, glistening with her juices, the tuft of dark hair betraying her natural hair colour, whilst he masturbated at the sight.