My Husband's Gift

My answer came quickly, "No, Yes, in a way, no, no, no. Mark it isn’t a shock to you that I’m married, I didn’t hide my rings, you’ve seen them and touched them. I know you saw me sitting with John, I saw you watching me, as I’m sure you saw me watching you. After our first dance, I left you to talk to him, your eyes never left me. When I came back to you, you didn’t seem to care who he was. You surely have to know I intend to make love to you, as I know your intend was never to cultivate a friendship. You knew I was married, you assumed I was going to cheat on my husband, you most likely think I’m a slut, but none of that was about to stop you. Tell me what possible difference could it make that I’m married to that man?"

Mark’s face broadened into a smile, "How about the obvious one, the one about being shoot by a jealous husband." I couldn’t help but laugh, it was I’m sure a serious concern but the way he said it, I just had to laugh. As I was about to say something he held up his finger. "Diane, I think you need to let me talk. First off, of course I looked at you, I saw you the minute you walked in the door. Every man here looked. Your a very beautiful women, every movement of your body is elegant, yet sensual. You didn’t hide your beauty, your sexuality is on display, he gestured to my dress. When your husband, at the time I had no way of knowing that, left, I decided I wanted you. You responded to me, I did see the rings on your finger, I knew you were married, most of the women hear are married, they just don’t bring their husbands. I’ll be honest, I plead guilty, I figured you were intending to cheat, yes I thought you were a slut, a very beautiful slut, one I fully intended to fuck."

"That was over an hour ago, in that hour I’ve found you to be intelligent, witty, friendly and warm. Your a very captivating women, Diane. Maybe your a beautiful, sensual, intelligent, witty, slut, but would that so bad, Diane. Perhaps some would call me a stud, isn’t it all the same thing, we enjoy sex, we enjoy the company of many partners. What I don’t understand is your here with me, your husband is over there watching us, he’s not reacting, if you were mine, Diane, I’d be reacting. That reaction, more likely then not, would get me throw in jail."

Flattery maybe, a good line maybe, but what ever it was it gave me a feeling of confidence. I liked this man, he sure knew how to push my buttons. I did like his idea about being a slut, he surely didn’t give it a negative connotation. What I was intending to do tonight, and most likely again in the future, most would consider sluty. Even I considered it sluty, Mark was right, there was a double standard, he was a stud, I was a slut. You know something, I don’t give a damn, being a slut is so liberating.

"Mark, that man over there," pointing to my husband, "is the love of my life. I think, I pray, I’m the love of his life also. Tonight things have changed between us, maybe in a way our love has changed. Tonight he has given me a gift, I suppose if I’m blunt, it’s a gift to be a slut. I prefer to think of his gift, as my liberation. That is in some ways a bitter gift, a painful one, but one he can’t now take away, he lost his right to do so the minute he gave it to me. I am not as you seem to think, this wild sexually liberated women, I intend to be, I would love for you to be the one to show me the way. I love how you speak, I loved what you said about me, if it’s not a line. But I don’t see myself in the light of your eyes, I don’t feel beautiful, I don’t feel that I’m this creature all of these men desire. I’d like to feel that way, I’d love to see desire and lust in all of these men. I’d love to watch their disappointment as we leave tonight, hand in hand."

"Mark, show me what is in your eyes, show these men your desire for me, my desire for you. Maybe you know more of what I’m capable of then I myself do. You had a little taste of one of my desire on the dance floor. In the last hour, I’ve reveled more about my true sexual nature to you, then I have to my husband. I’m the canvas, your the artist, paint me as you see me, if I’m truly that slut, show me, show all of them," I said gesturing to the room. "Make your painting sensual, make it deliciously wicked, make it wanton, yes Mark paint me as a wanton women. I want them all to see, but most of all I want," pointing to John, "John to know I’ve accepted his gift. In so many ways it a wonderful gift, but it’s also a very bitter gift, a gift that I’m not sure a husband has a right to give his wife. I want him to feel that bitterness, and want him to know my pain, make him feel my pain. Show him what he has never shown me."

No more words were spoken, only actions. Mark, rain his fingers across my lips, moved his other hand to my thigh, his fingers gentle caressing the inner part. His hand slide to the back of my head as he pulled me to him. His lips hot, as we kissed, his tongue probing. I had no idea what was coming, I was nervous, I can’t say I responded well to his kiss, I didn’t. I have a habit of playing with the buttons of my blouse, in this case my dress, if I’m nervous, instinctively my hand went to the buttons of my dress. As I think back this was a very strange thing for me to have done, maybe a signal. Mark was fast to react to my habit, he nibbled on my ear then whispered "Unbutton it." I hesitated, he whispered, "I’m the artist, do you want me to paint this picture or not." I unbutton it, his hand moved from my leg to my upper chest. Then the next and the next, doing so as he instructed me. As each button allow him more access to my body his hand explored, but never once exposing me.

As my fingers rested on the last button, Mark again whispered, "You wanted lust, you wanted desire, open your eyes Diane, look around you." I hadn’t even realized I’d closed my eyes, when I looked, every man within site had his eyes on me. Their eyes were filled with lust and desire. I was filled with the same lust, same desire. Again Mark whispered "Diane, you want to be wanton, I can’t make you be what you want, only you can do so. You want John to feel you pain, only you can do that. The last button is up to you." It really wasn’t hard, I was already wanton, I wanted to be displayed, I not only unbuttoned that button, I open my dress, and slipped it off my shoulders. I surrendered myself to my new lover and every other man who could see.

I’m sure I wasn’t the first wanton women Mark had been with, he knew what I wanted, he needed no instruction. His hand slide up my leg, as he did I opened them wide, his hand went over my vulva pausing only momentarily before continuing to my breast. He fondled me, he lifted each breast as if measuring their weight, he ran my nipples between his thumb and forefinger. His mouth covered my breasts, as his hand found my wetness, inserting first one finger, then another, my hips thrust against his hand, signally my desire. The trust of his hand exaggerated, my thrust equally so, I didn’t want what he was doing hidden, I wanted it public, I wanted all to see but mostly John. I wished John was next to me hearing the lustful moans coming from deep inside me. I have no concept of time, I don’t know how long he continued, I only know it felt so wonderful. When his hand finally stopped thrusting in and of out my vagina, I was ready to explode, it only took the slightest of touch to my clitoris to bring on my orgasm, I throw my head back as the waves of ecstasy rushed through my body. I had intended to fake an orgasm, thinking it just wouldn’t happen, it happened, I didn’t need to fake anything, if John was watching, he saw me as he’d never seen me before.

When my orgasm finally subsided, I looked around the room, all eyes were on me, not just the men’s, lust filled everyone of them. As I watched some of the men adjust in there seat, pulling at the edges of their pants, I grinned, I’d built more then just lust. I looked to the bar, John was gone, I knew he was on his way home, I couldn’t have given a stronger signal. I wondered if he’d felt bitterness and pain at my complete surrender to another man, surrendering in a way I never had for him. I told Mark it was time to go, and started to button my dress, the look on Mark’s face told me why bother. I had to agree why bother, they needed a finale, I wanted them to see my wetness as it trickled down my legs. I wanted to display all that had been hidden under that table. As I walked out of the club, I’d never felt so high in my life, no drug could have produced the feelings I was feeling. No drug could have been this addictive.

Just before I left the club, I turned and looked back, I was sure I’d be back, there’s a first time for everything, who knows when the last well be. As I walked out the door, I was amazed by what I’d done, by all the men I’d put a show on for. Their lust, their desire, my lust, my desire, then it struck me, all these men, all these men, and I wondered. Then I thought about the path I was about to be lead down, yes I was sure that someday I’d find out about the fantasy I’d just had about men, lots of men. I wondered would John feel some pain when that happened, maybe by then I’d no longer care.

Trust comes fast sometime, I had complete trust that Mark was the right choice. I trusted him in every way, when he opened his car door for me I didn’t hesitate to get in, we could pick my car up tomorrow, maybe the next day. "Your place or mind he asked." I smile, then gave him directions. As I slipped completely out of my dress, intending to give Mark a little show of his own, I thought of John, I felt my love for him. I knew I always would love him, he’d always be part of my life but love changes, mine had. I thought of the precious gift he’d given me, the bitterness nearly abated. But I knew I had a few more desire to fulfill before I was completely liberated. I knew Mark was the right man to take me there, he was the right man to show John what I was capable of. He was the right man to show John the price of his gift, yes John still had a price to pay, gifts are not free they can be expensive.
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That my dear readers is another story, one I’ll tell you about next time.

Perhaps my last few stories lacked the passion of my earlier ones, but that passion was spurred by hate, I’ve lost the hate. I hope you liked this one better, I tried to feel some passion. The emotional dilemma is real, I could want exactly what my husband wanted, me having sex with other men, I’d still feel pain and some bitterness. Given the right situation, the right husband, the right first time lover, one that would end up somewhat long term, I’d need that kind of man, perhaps I could get over that pain and bitterness.

My objection, my writings, have been about men who are obsessed with their wife’s sleeping with other men. An obsession that, taken to an extreme can almost destroy a woman’s life. Sex to most woman is never just sex, I know it can be that way for you men, you separate your emotions, you feel lust, that is all. Our emotions are the very essence of our sexuality, love, passion, lust, happiness, fear they’re all mixed together. It just isn’t so easy for us to have recreational sex, if it was, you would be real shocked if some of us lived our fantasies. You men who want the cuckold life style, want us to throw away our emotions, not to mention some morals, along with a major part of our upbringing, it just isn’t that easy. Even if we can get past all of that, we still need a desire, most of us don’t have the desire to act as you want us to act.

That said, I know some women can enjoy an open life style, they love living with a cuckold, they can fulfill all those nasty little fantasies. I say, way to go girl. I still think when those women look into their husband’s eyes they feel some pain, they surly don’t have the respect they once had for their husbands.