Nadia in Prague

"You looked pretty amazing," I confirmed.

It was the first time we had said anything about it since. To my surprise, Nadia had not immediately dressed. Even when Greta and Helmut had left us, she had sat down on the grass again, still naked, her clothes beside her, asking me if I liked her like that, and I had said I had. Then she had just turned the conversation to what we hoped to do that afternoon, and we had made our plans. Half an hour of sitting naked later, Nadia had dressed, and we had left, cycling to the famous bridge, the Charles bridge, and then walking across, taking in the statues that decorate each side.

"But you really didn't mind?" she asked me. "I mean, I am your wife, after all."

"I've been wondering about tomorrow," I admitted. "I mean, technically, we didn't actually agree. Greta just assumed that we were up for it. You, I mean."

"We could just not turn up," Nadia agreed. "I mean we haven't signed anything, have we?"

"If you'd rather not, that's fine," I said. "We can put it down to an amusing interlude. Although,..."

"Although what?" she asked.

"Although I wish I'd thought to take a few photos on my mobile," I grinned.

"You bastard!" she said, breaking into laughter that made people at other tables turn and look.

"Did I look okay, though?" she went on to ask.

"You looked superb," I said. "Seriously, you seemed really confident, and you do have a great figure."

"Can I tell you the truth?"

"Of course."

"I was almost wetting myself while I was walking to the fountain naked,.. I was so scared," she said.

"I could tell," I said. "I mean when you got back. I could feel your heart against my chest. It was beating pretty fast."

"And that was just two minutes walking in the park!" she said. "I don't know how I feel about tomorrow."

"It's whatever you decide," I said. "If you think you might enjoy it,..."

"You really think that?" Nadia reacted. "You think I'd enjoy walking around without my clothes? You really think that I'm that kind of person?"

I gave her a reassuring look.

"I was just remembering the way you stepped onto the fountain surround," I said. "And posed for that photo with the guy."

"That doesn't mean I was enjoying it," she protested. "I was just doing what I thought they wanted."

The waiter came, and broke the conversation, setting down our pizzas, and giving me time to realise that whatever else, Nadia did not like the thought that she had enjoyed flaunting her body at the fountain, although I was still quite sure she had.

We did a bit of slicing, since restaurants never cut right through pizza before they serve it to the guests, and then we started eating. The food was good. Nice, thin crust, with good cheese flavour, and slices of pepperoni adding piquance.

"You know," I said, "it wouldn't matter if you had enjoyed it."

"Yes it would," she said. "I mean, doing it for money is one thing, but enjoying being naked, like that,... that would make me some kind of,... well,... slut."

I looked at her.

"Babe!" I said. "The money really doesn't matter. We've got enough. We budgeted before we left, and we've not been overdoing things."

"So we just won't show tomorrow, then," she said.

"Not if you don't want to," I agreed. "You should call Greta though. Let her know."

"I will," she said.

So that was that, and we carried on eating our pizzas, and talking about what else we would do the next day instead, and where to head to after Prague. Then Nadia's mobile hummed.

She looked at it.

"It's Greta," she said. "She says tomorrow at eleven, and she's given me the names of two streets, to meet her where they cross."

Without asking, she thumbed in a brief reply.

"So you told her then?" I asked.

She nodded.

"That we're not coming?" I checked, just to be sure.

"No," she said. "I said that we'd be there."

I looked at her in surprise, pausing in mid-chew.

"Well, you obviously want me to," she said, defensively. "I mean, I remember how hard you were. You really liked it, didn't you?"

I finished chewing. Thinking time. Honesty, I thought. The best policy. Especially with your wife.

"Yes," I said. "I did. Seeing you like that was a total turn on. But if I remember rightly, you told me it had made you wet as well. And your nipples were like bullets."

Maybe I was louder than I should have been. For a moment, the people at the tables near us all went quiet. Then their conversations started up again.

"You really had to tell the entire restaurant?" Nadia laughed again.

"Were you wet or weren't you?" I said, not quite so loudly.

"Okay," she conceded, now almost whispering. "I was wet. It turned me on."

"So you did enjoy it!" I smiled.

"Okay, so I enjoyed it," she admitted now. "So? What does that make me then."

Well, you said it made you a slut, I thought.

"A very sexy woman," was what I actually said.

"Really?" she asked me.

"Really," I said. "So what made you change your mind?"

"Remembering your hard on," she whispered. "And you saying that you needed to fuck me. I just thought that, if you like me doing that, then I'd do it, just for you."

"That's big of you!" I offered.

She put down her knife and fork a moment, picked up her glass and took a drink, then looked at me with as serious a look as her smile allows her.

"You do realise that it will be online," she said. "It's not just something we do here and then it's gone. There could people who will recognise me."

I nodded.

"Yes," I said. "I know."

"You're not worried about that?" she asked me. "I mean I've thought about it. I don't think my parents are likely to look at online porn, but your brother might, or any of your friends."

"Well if they do, they can't exactly criticise, can they, if that's the kind of site that they're looking at to start with?"

"No, but they'll still see me, if they do."

"True," I said. "But in the end, it's just a bit of fun."

"It's people that we know," she said. "Seeing my everything. I don't know what I'd do if someone said."

"What time did Greta say, again?" I asked her.

"Eleven," Nadia answered me, now looking quite concerned.

**********

We were on the bed before the door had closed. An automatic closure, clicking into place. We were kissing, arms and limbs entwined, still fully dressed. My cock was hard for her. Achingly so. It had needed this since lunchtime in the park.

Shorts get in the way of fucking. They had to go. I pulled Nadia's down, hardly giving her time to open up the steel button or undo the zip. I slid mine off as well. Then lay down between her legs. No foreplay first. No foreplay needed. I had never known her cunt so wet. I still stretched her with my head, of course, but slid in as smoothly as if my piston had been freshly oiled.

I had to scrabble at her top to get it high enough to bare her breasts. Her nipples were erect, as hard as they had been when she had been naked in the park. I played with them, while sliding in and out of her. Then I arched my back and sucked on one. Had there been milk, I would have sucked her dry. Instead, I sucked not just the nipple, but the whole areola, and as much breast as I could manage, gorging on it, filling my mouth with flesh.

Nadia mews. Tiny, little, screamy cries, just like a kitten. When we fuck, that is. Not at other times.. She squirms as well. She does not lie back and think of England. She moves around, so that fucking her means continually shifting how you thrust into her cunt, and always angling so as to pin her down.

She also likes to say things. Things her mother would be appalled to hear. Our bedroom is the one place she can be herself, can think her thoughts out loud, is not repressed, and can be wild and crude.

She does not shout and scream. She whispers. But I can her begging me to fuck her, to fuck her cunt, to ride her, to come inside, or telling me how much she loves my cock, how big it is, how good it feels inside her, how wonderful it is.

This time she whispered that I had made her do it, had made her take of all her clothes, had made her show her cunt to all those people, had let them see her, had let that man just grope her. It was my fault that she had been so wet, that her nipples had been hard. That I could have sent those German guys away, Greta and Helmut, but that instead, I had let them make her do those things.

That tomorrow, she was going to be naked, and everyone would see, and she would let more people touch her, and take photos, and they would see the cunt that I was fucking, and they would want to fuck her too, and my friends would see the video, and we could watch it with them when we were back home, and she would take her clothes off so that they would know for sure that it was her, and see her nipples and her cunt for real.

Only her shuddering orgasm stopped the verbal stream. No more whispering, no mewing either. No little cries and whimpers. Full blown gasps and screams of ecstasy. Legs flailing. Arms thrashing. Bucking beneath me. Ramming her cunt against my groin. Triggering my own release. Spurt after spurt of semen driving through my shaft and head, exquisite as it jetted deep inside the woman I was fucking, the one I loved, the one whose cunt had been so publicly displayed.

Our lovemaking, since it had started, had always been so good. That night it hit a different level. I felt it. Nadia said so too. When lying in my arms, recovering, she whispered.

"I'll show anyone my cunt, wherever, if it means you'll fuck me every night the way you did just then."

**********

Nadia came out first, from the store, where they had used the bathroom, she and Greta having gone inside together. The white dress that she was wearing now was body hugging, sleeveless, the hem at her mid-thigh. Her legs were bare.

Her breasts pushed out against the dress, obviously bare beneath it, although you could not see through to make out the dark shade of her areolas. But her nipple stubs stood proud. Her hair was up, as she now regularly wore it, which with the dress gave her a sophisticated look. A cycle tourist no longer, in the white two or three inch heels, made of white leather, that Greta had provided. Not so high as to be difficult to walk in, but high enough to register as such. She was statuesque. A looker. Bare legs, no bra. In an elegant hotel she might have been the girl-friend to a guest. Or else a call-girl. High class, but still a whore.

Greta followed her out. Dressed exactly as she had been the day before. A gofer for a cameraman, or the director of the film, or both at once, not mutually explusive. Helmut was outside with me, waiting as I was, not saying much, just fiddling with his equipment. His camera equipment, not what was inside his jeans.

"Okay, guys," Greta said, once we were all together in a huddle. "Remember the rules. Thirty minutes. I lead, Nadia follows, Helmut films, and you,..."

She turned to me, and gave me a wide smile.

"You will please stay well back always. Your wife is today our star. Any problem I will handle. It's okay?"

"Okay," I said.

"Nadia," she turned away from me again. "You can hear okay? The earpiece. It is good?"

Nadia nodded.

"Okay, Greta said to all of us. "Let's go."

She and Helmut led the way. I held Nadia's hand. We must have looked a mismatched couple. Nadia dressed for cocktails, or for picking up a business man to earn a buck or two. Myself in standard cycle-touring shorts and teeshirt.

"You look amazing," I said to her.

She gave me a slightly sheepish look, but she smiled.

"Thanks," she said. "I feel so nervous I could almost faint."

"You can still pull out," I said.

"Are you crazy?" she answered. "What would I say to them? Besides, I know you want to see me do this."

The last thing that she said, there was no way I could argue. From waking up that morning, my hard-on had been evident. I would have fucked her one more time before the shoot, but she had turned me down.

"You know how I look after we make love," had been her reasoning. "My lips just get too red. I don't want everyone to see."

She had used her mouth instead. Small consolation. Kneeling between my legs while I lay back, thinking of what was about to happen. Her walking naked, in the Czech tourist city, being filmed, and that film then going online, for guys around the globe to pay to watch.

She had been on all fours above me, her mouth wrapped round my cock. Her delicious breasts swaying beneath her as she sucked, offering me the chance to fondle them. To palm their areolas, and feel the hardness of her nipple stubs. To softly knead the fullness of their flesh. While she tongued me, licked my shaft from base to flange, sucked on the head, looked up at me, and then fucked me with her throat.

I even pictured her as she had been the day that I had met her. Those jeans. That jumper. The coyness. The hesitancy of her smile. Those upper teeth entrancing. Now grazing penile flesh. My cock. I had kissed that mouth so often since, but that first time, I had to probe between her lips because she was unused to opening her mouth to use her tongue, or have one play with hers, but now her mouth was wide around my shaft, her lips against my groin, her breathe held, as she took my cock head deep.

It had been a white roll neck. The jumper she had worn the day that we had met. Long sleeves. The bottom even covering her butt. No flesh in sight, so demure, straight-laced, her parents' daughter, who now fucked and sucked her husband's cock, and would soon walk Prague's streets with every inch of flesh exposed, shy butterfly emerging naked from her chrysalis, exposing her enticing female flesh.

I had emptied myself in her the night before, but in my sleep, my groin had been at work, replenishing the reservoir, so there was no dearth of semen when she made me come. It jetted from my cock into her mouth. After the first spurts, she had drawn back, so that the rest shot onto her chin, and neck, my liquid pearls of lust, coating her pale skin. The semen that I had released into her mouth, she swallowed, looking pleased that she had made me come.

Young cocks never lose desire. That morning I stayed hard, while showering, dressing, getting coffee on the way to meet the Germans, waiting at the store while Nadia changed, and while walking with her to the beginning of the shoot. So when she said I wanted this, I could not deny the truth. My cock was raging. Hard for my wife, for her exposure, for her nakedness walk through city streets, apparently alone.

By then it was eleven thirty. The shopping streets were busy. Locals and tourists, mixed. All ages, teenagers to retired and elderly. No younger children. They would have been at school. Whether Greta had scouted the area before we met, she knew where she was going. We turned a corner, Greta pointing to construction containers of some kind, one on the road, one partly on the pavement, providing partially privacy, where Nadia could undress.

Reviewing the video, it seems incongruous. Something daring, sexual, beginning in a corner formed by heavy duty steel. But my wife did as was expected of her, as the rest of us backed off. Greta had unzipped the back of her figure-hugging dress. Nadia grasped the hem and pulled it up, baring her thighs, her butt, her cunt, her stomach, then her breasts, and drew the whole dress up over her head, and off.

Naked now, she crouched. Another incongruity. A bright green, draw string bag, that Greta must have left for her. She rolled up the dress and stuffed it in the bag. Then went to Greta, giving it to her, relinquishing the only means of covering herself.

No hesitation. No coy turning towards the steel walls of the containers. No arm across her breasts. No hand covering her cunt. Just walking normally, breasts swaying, as they would, as they had done in the park, where her nakedness had been less open, fewer people there, contained by trees, compared to busy shopping streets and swarms of people casually walking by.

**********

Five stars. For one night. The Four Seasons. A pure white room, white painted walls, white carpet, curtains, bedding, with a balcony, the river view outside. Not that we were looking at the view. We were looking into one another's eyes. Saying 'I love you's. Whispering sweet nothings. While I moved my buttocks almost imperceptibly, just enough to feel my cock head moving in the soft wetness of her flesh.

"How was it?" I asked her, still slowly fucking her, whilst fingering her mane of dark brown hair.

"Kind of weird," she said. "I mean, at first I was so nervous. When I saw you guys move away, I knew I had no choice. I had to follow you. There was nowhere I could hide. So I just thought I had to look like this was normal, while my chest was really tight, and I really needed to pee."

"You looked amazing," I told her. "I mean, it was like watching a model walking on a cat-walk. Except you were outside, on the street."

"Models usually wear clothes," she said. "I mean that's the point, isn't it."

"For them," I agreed. "It was more,... like,... you were modelling your body. Which is pretty good, by the way."

"You're not ashamed of me for doing it?" she asked me.

"The opposite," I said. "I guess I'm proud of you, for doing something so daring, and for having the body that can carry it off. You know that people liked you. I didn't see one person looking offended or disapproving or anything."

"I thought of that," she said. "I thought the best way to do it would be to smile at people. To be friendly."

I idly moved my hand to her breast, and strummed her nipple with my thumb.

"That's nice," she said.

"It worked, you smiling," I told her. "You know you have the cutest smile."

She laughed.

"My chipmunk smile! That's what you say it is!"

"Happy, friendly, Chipmunk, with a gorgeous body," I said. "I loved that you posed for all those selfies."

Not just selfies, guys sidling up to Nadia and taking arm's length shots with camera phones reversed. What surprised me was how many couples there had been, where the man would pose with Nadia, arm around her back or shoulders, while the woman would stand back to take the shot, a naked woman standing by her guy. And different ages. Twenty-somethings doing it. Middle-aged couples too.

"The people were so friendly," Nadia said. "And respectful. I think just two guys fondled my butt while they were posing with me."

"I would have," I said. "Your butt is far too tempting."

She tautened her butt muscles when I said that, which pushed her groin against me, and forced my cock a fraction deeper into her.

"You saw the guy in the red jacket?" Nadia said. "Grey hair and beard. Not tall, but big. With his wife, also overweight, with a proper camera, not a phone?"

I thought back. Then pictured him. Standing with Nadia in front of a store window.

"I think so," I said.

"He was one of them," she said. "He was feeling me between my buttocks, and reaching underneath. I mean,... like,... my hole,... and where I was wet."

That made my cock jerk. Another guy, fingering her. Unexpected. And unwanted. But my cock has its own way of reacting to whatever, and always does its own thing, regardless of what is happening in my brain.

"Did you just,...?" Nadia asked me, widening her smile.

"That wasn't me," I said. "That was my cock."

"You mean it likes me saying that?"

"Just remember, I don't care who sees your body, or what they'd like to do to you, but I'm the only guy who gets to fuck you."

"I know," she sighed. "And yours is the only cock I'd ever want."

I eased out of her, all the way, then eased back inside, enjoying the special feeling of her lips parting to my cock head, and her vaginal walls welcoming my shaft. She was an amazing woman, with a delicious body. I did the same again, eased out of her, then back in, deep. Slow, long fucking, savouring every inch of movement as my cock gliding through her cunt. Knives and butter came to mind. Cocks and cunts. One cock, mine. One slick, wet cunt, my wife's.