Greendale

I wielded my hedge destroying sword and joined in. "Why don't you draw Jess? You'd have a hard time making her ugly."

Jess blushed and Max laughed loudly. "Oh I could manage, even such a beauty as her."

"Boys! I'm right here!"

I winked at Max. "We're unlikely to have missed the bikini clad beauty in our midst, dear. What do you say; will you let Max have a go drawing you? I'll get you another drink and you can just lay back on the sunbed."

She looked doubtful but Max sealed the deal. "Oh, I'd not want to put her to any trouble."

Jess loved being put to trouble, the more inconvenient the better. "Ok -- I suppose we could make a start and I could give you some pointers afterwards..."

I couldn't quite believe it but there she was, sliding up Max's sunbed and striking a sultry pose. He had quickly pulled out a sketch pad and was drawing long elegant lines to capture her. She looked like a racy postcard picture that you would send back from a holiday resort. Her sun hat sat cocked on her head and her tits threatened a glorious escape. Her bikini bottoms rode high up her ass and with her legs slightly drawn up; she looked vulnerable and exposed, inviting and knowing.

I cut the rest of the hedge with exaggerated care, all too conscious of the fact that most of the blood in my body was in my cock. Max was entranced, drinking in every line and curve of her body as he filled up his page. Jess sat clam, occasionally sipping on the fresh drink I'd brought her, enjoying the sun and the attention. She was a very cheap date and I had no doubt that she was half-cut already, oblivious to her erect nipples and her dripping skin.

It lasted for just over an hour and my cock was a proud oak the whole way through. I'd move to different parts of the hedge, with clippers this time, pretending to work but really just watching her and touching myself through my shorts. She moved slightly ever so often, arching her back and sticking out her chest; stretching a long leg or causing her tits to jiggle by wiping her brow. I could see that Max was rising to the occasion as well -- his sweatpants were starting to show an impressive bulge. I wondered if Jess had seen it?

It was glorious watching her get up and walk across to look at Max's work. She moved with sinuous, careless ease; comfortable wearing clothes around this virtual stranger that she would never have imagined wearing outside yesterday.

She chatted softly to Max for a moment, admiring his work and pointing out a few details, giving advice. He must have made a joke as she burst out laughing and playfully slapped his big forearm.

That was the straw that broke the camel's back. I needed to fuck her, urgently. I poured all my corporate boss man command into my voice to urge her. "Right Jess, we better make a move!"

Max knew the score, and so did Jess. She gave him a sheepish smile and he waved us off, picking up his shears to continue gardening. I watched as Jess crossed over into the house then instantly grabbed her by the waist and reeled her in for a deep and powerful kiss.

The urgency of my lust surprised her and her hand dropped down to my rock hard cock which was poking into her belly through my shorts. We broke the lingering kiss and she pulled my shorts down over my engorged head and I stood naked, a French window and a curious glance away from our neighbour. Jess rubbed her hand up and down the shaft as I unclasped her bikini top, which fell away. I picked her up and thrust her against the wall by the window and planted my mouth on her nipples, as she gasped. My other hand tore away at the Brazilian bottoms and suddenly she was naked as well.

We slid to the floor and she was then on top of me and I was sliding into her, watching as she bounced and bounced on my cock, nearly exposed, a thin wall of glass away from Max snipping away at his dead flowers. She moaned and picked up speed and I responded, furious in my pent up desire.

She came hard and long and stifled a full throated scream. I didn't relent, riding out her clutching, quivering orgasm and switching over to missionary. I felt her spread her legs wide and pull me in deep and I went at her like a mad man on the floor, smashing into her with a possessed vigour that had her a loud grunting, babbling mess before I felt the long delayed churn in my balls.

"I'm going to cum," I grunted.

"On my tits, do it on my tits." This was new -- I always came inside her; she wasn't one for a mess but who was to argue? I delayed in her velvety grip until the last moment and then showered her with cum. It was fascinating watching it arc from my cock onto her waiting body and face. I came so hard I was worried that I broke something. Jess was absolutely covered.

A moment of silence and the guilty understanding that there was simply no way that Max hadn't of heard us at it like rabbits. It was very possible that he had seen us fucking -- neither of us had been particularly wary and if he had moved to the right angle...

Jess burst into giggles. "Well -- that was different!"

I didn't disagree. I helped her up to her feet enjoying the debauched decadence of seeing my cum run down her face and tits as she stood naked before me. I felt a twitch in my cock. Jess, seeing my interest, ran her finger down her chin and across her breast and nipple then put it in her mouth, licking it clean. She'd never done anything like that in her life, I was sure of it. My cock heaved back into action, painful with its blind desire after such a brutal and recent workout. Jess smiled wickedly at it.

She pointed to our downstairs shower-room. "Honey, could you get me a towel so that....shit!" she ducked her head and slid her back up against the wall. I looked in the direction of her horrified gaze and sure enough I could see Max through the little porthole window that we forgot about. He was in his kitchen; it looked like he had just walked in. That he had seen Jess, naked, covered in cum, was an absolute certainty although he was busy pretending he was doing something else.

Jess frantically gestured for me to throw her a towel and I moved over to the shower, picking up the full length beige towel -- and holding it in front of me, inviting her to walk across the exposed ground. She pointed to the window, thinking I misunderstood but then put her hands on her hips as understanding dawned on her. I was treated to another first, Lady Jessica's middle finger. I stood my ground and cocked an eyebrow. A standoff, me: erect again holding the towel, her: naked and covered in cum, not wanting to cross the floor. Then her back straightened and she strode confidently and slowly across the room. I glanced at the window and there he was, surreptitiously present in his house but with a clear view. It seemed an age that walk across the floor. Jess snatched up the towel with a mixture of genuine anger and amusement.

"There is something wrong with you, you massive pervert. We live opposite that man you know; we will see him every day." She glanced down at my cock. "Does that excite you? That our neighbour has seen your wife's tits covered in cum? That he's seen me well fucked?"

It did excite me and this time we fucked in our bed. I wanted to bend her over and fuck her there and then but she prevented it, leading me up the stairs by my cock and forcing me to take it slow. It was animalistic and pure -- the best fuck we had had in years. Her dirty talk spurred my own. "Do you think he is thinking about you now?" No answer but a deep moan. "I bet he is wanking off right now, just thinking about his beautiful neighbour." Deeper moans and a definite increase in pressure and rhythm. "He will be thinking about you like that as you model for him, about your tits covered in cum." She controlled the rhythm and, having cum so hard already, I lasted for a long time and she rode me to several loud, shattering, climaxes before I pumped deep into her with a primal scream. She had hold of my balls at the time, massaging them, squeezing out every last drop as I collapsed in a twitching heap over her shoulder.

"Well," I managed a few minutes of panting later.

"Mmmmm. That was naughty."

"Yes -- but fun. We should..." She'd fallen asleep.

Life got in the way in the following days as I had to dash out of the country for some firefighting and Jessica got roped into organizing a fundraising charity run to rescue the village hall. I got tired and frustrated but solved the issue. As a thank-you the corporate lizard-kings gifted me with an all expenses trip and tickets to the Venetian Masquerade Ball in Kensington, with two nights at the Dorchester, right at the end of summer. I remember grimacing slightly as I was told this in the full knowledge that Lady Jessica would spend fully twice the value of the gift buying the clothes and accessories required to actually attend it.

I was not wrong. An absolutely stunningly expensive dress was purchased. It was red and backless and (apparently) matched the tiny little wallet-breakers that came in a small box from Harrods. The ball wasn't until the end of September but still it held a mystical significance. Our diet changed. Gym equipment was brought down from the attic.

This was interesting to this story of our slide into debauchery in that it is what precipitated the near-obsession that my wife developed about 'tan-lines'; an unconsidered complication of the ludicrously priced back-less dress. Nothing in the world, apparently, was worse than having an unsightly stripe of white flesh across your back when elegantly poncing about in London with, for god sake, a mask on. What this led to was many hours of my wife lying in our garden on her front with her bikini top untied and loose down at her sides to ensure that her tan was even.

She was still modelling for Max, something that added rocket fuel to our sex lives. He took an age to finish the first portrait of her on the sunbed, taking exaggerated care to capture every angle and colour. The results were superb and it was clear that he was a fine artist. They did several more, with Jessica revelling in a range of poses in the garden, always in her bikini, always that mixture of provocative and pure. I always found it fascinating watching them talk and laugh. The man had seen her naked, as exposed as possible. She knew that he was aroused by her and yet there they were, laughing and joking with each other, as relaxed as could be.

A turning point came on the second hottest day of the year. Jessica was sunbathing outside, face down on her towel with her top off, the sun soaking her skin olive. I was watering the plants and caught the faint sound and shadow of Max entering his garden. The mischief stole into me quicker than I could react and suddenly the hose was aimed at Jessica and the water arced in a glorious, dangerous, unrecallable way -- glinting in the sunshine in slow motion and it swirled and shuddered on contact.

She let out a yelp and leapt to her feet with some very un-ladylike language, spotting me and taking two steps forward in fury to exact her terrible revenge. Two steps was as far as she got before she realised two important facts. Firstly, her tits were out -- their firm and rounded glory open to the sky and wind, her nipples already hardening in their freedom, the paleness making the revelation naughtier when contrasted with the tanned, unforbidden flesh. The second fact was that Max was leaning against his fence having just chosen that moment to ask me a question. Her yelp had drawn his eyes which, quite naturally, drifted down and up.

Now my wife is nothing if not composed. She saw all this and understood, in that fraction of a second, that if she flung herself away in embarrassment it would really only add to the mortification and that it was too late in any case: the damage was done. So she decided to own the moment and it was only with the very slightest pause in her stride that she joined us, a wide and confident smile on her face.

"Max was just asking if he could treat us to dinner a week on Friday."

Jess flipped her long hair over her shoulder and cocked an eyebrow at Max. "What's the occasion?"

Max kept his cool, holding her eyes. "Oh, nothing really -- just thought we could all get to know each other better." I bit back a laugh. "And it's been a while since I've eaten anywhere other than my kitchen table."

Jess looked to me, the unmistakable glint of defiance and fury in her flaring green eyes. "I think we are free, aren't we honey?" She knew I'd hate this. Friday nights were date nights and the idea of spending it with a third wheel was usually a nightmare for me. I nodded my agreement. I was surreal, being stood there, talking about such trivial things with my wife practically naked in front of another man. She look magnificent, her back straight, her tits swaying slightly, but without the slightest hint of embarrassment or shame. Why should she? She looked incredible and this was her own house.

I took pity on her and decided to put her out of her misery. "I'm getting a beer - where did you say your sarong was?" I asked, moving into the house.

She shot me a flash of spite, then offered me a butter-wouldn't-melt smile. "Oh, don't worry sweetie; I'm going to work on my tan-lines for a bit longer, you run along."

Well played. I beat my retreat into the house and opened my beer, admiring and wondering at my wife's new courage and exhibitionist streak. She was chatting animatedly to Max now, almost flirty with her body language and tone. This caused my cock to rise in appreciation and I pondered for a moment why this was so hot for me. It was fucked up, clearly, in the normal view of things. Our view of manhood should be one of jealous possessive rage. I should be violent and controlling according to the unwritten rules. But that was insecurity, that was the littleness that comes with being a small man. There was no danger of Jessica leaving me -- our bond was iron. This was just Éros, sexual passion, and it had nothing to do with the complexities of Agápe and Philia that ran through the core of our lives. Our sex lives had always been good -- we were a strong match -- but this...display, this showing off of the goddess that was my wife, it excited me in ways I'd not imagined. It elevated her to deity and object, queen and whore and I loved it. And I think she did as well.

I poured a glass of wine for Jess and headed back outside, only to find the two of them in Max's garden. He was in front of his easel and Jessica was posing for him. This pose I recognised. It was one of Jessica's favourite paintings and one she always taught to her advanced students: The Goddess Hera. It had some Greek name but that wasn't what was important. What was important was that Hera, the goddess of women and marriage, has her hands raised above her head, holding the rippling masses of her raven hair. This is an unabashedly sexy pose. No coy Birth of Venus hiding behind strands nonsense here, this is all about the breasts and by god they looked lovely.

Who suggested it, I wondered? How had it come up? I strolled up to Max who ignored me as he was totally focused on the page in-front of him and the scintillating view my wife was providing. She looked like a softcore porn actress posing for a magazine, not Lady Jessica from uptight close. Her eyes found mine and I saw vindicated triumph. I'd annoyed her and this was her reaction. Fine she was saying you want him to see my tits? He can fucking paint them!

I kept my face straight, not quite ready to signal surrender and watched as Max turned rough lines into a gorgeous form with speed and skill. No one said a word as he worked and it was beyond surreal. Eventually Jess' arms got tired and broke the pose and the spell. Max offered his heartfelt thanks and cheekily suggested that "he could do the rest from memory."

Jess, still feisty, replied that "she could model for him again tomorrow to finish it off."

With that we went our separate ways. I was stunned at the speed of events but turned on beyond belief. So was Jess and her hands were all over me as soon as she was back through the door. She slapped me first, however.

"You sick fuck, he is old enough to be my father!"

I grabbed her and kissed her hard, my hand up to her breast. "That's the best thing that's ever happened to that old man."

She started pumping on my cock with her hand. "It won't be. You want me to show off? Do you?"

I hissed the words. "Yes."

She moaned as I kissed her neck and my fingers found her soaking. "Well I guess I can show off."

It was a good night and another first. Jess came hard and fast and often but when it was my turn she took me in her mouth and drained me; something she had not done before. It was intoxicating, seeing her lips around my cock as I pumped my seed into her; watching her swallow; feeling the swirl of her tongue on the head of my cock.

After that it was out there. We were exhibitionists who enjoyed showing Jess off, there was no point pretending otherwise. We didn't talk about it directly, English people don't do such things, but we did understand it and make alteration for this new kink in our life.

The most startling change came from the fact that Jess simply stopped wearing a bikini top in our garden. I would come back from work and find her pottering around with her gardening gloves on and her tits out to the world, her tan-lines vanishing.

She was often in Max's garden like this, as well. She continued to model for him and was helping him with odd jobs. The normalisation of her nudity was erotic and surreal. She would wonder around his house, comfortable there in just her Brazilian bottoms, while I was at work. Max pretended a coolness to the situation that I doubt he really felt. I'm sure the old bastard was slapping his sausage to the image of Jess at every possible moment alone. I know I was.

It was a week and a half of sharp and dizzying changes and I brought in one more.

It came in the form of Barney Thomas, who, you might remember, was the knuckle-dragging teenager who lived in the village and had drooled over seeing Jessica delivering the Newsletter. Barney played blind-side flanker for the Clifton Cougers. For our American cousins: a blind-side flanker is like a Linebacker but without the imagination or finesse. Barney was gloriously suited to the task of "smash" and was quite useful to the team. Unfortunately he was thick as shit and was struggling badly at school. One subject where he was really struggling was in Design where he was averaging an 'E'. They were going to ban him from playing, which would lead to us losing and I wasn't really in the market for defeat. Thankfully, as my wife was an 'Art and Design' teacher, I thought that I had the perfect solution to this problem.

Barney was reluctant at first. Two eighty minute sessions a week of his free time doing something he hated didn't fill him with joy but I really gave him no choice. Jess loved the idea. She loved helping people and had not taught Design for a while so was looking forward to re-acquainting herself. We cleared out my study and set up the first meeting.

To say that Barney was bowled over would not do it justice. He looked like a cartoon character with his jaw on the floor and his tongue hanging out as Jess introduced herself and shepherded him into our study. The kid was struggling to string a sentence together and Jess, even in a very modest summer dress, was a walking dream to him.

About halfway through their session Jess popped out of the study and into the kitchen to refill a drink while Barney worked on a problem she had set him. We caught each other's eye and burst out laughing. "Looks like you have a new fan."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, well -- he is easily distracted. That's why I'm leaving him to a task for a moment!"