tagExhibitionist & VoyeurThe Green Fairy Adventure

The Green Fairy Adventure


Let me establish something. I'm a little debauched.

O.K., a lot debauched. And damned lucky.

Fate blessed me with a beautiful, tall, brunette wife, and there's nothing I love more than the idea of showing her off. Her eager smile, cascading hair, full breasts, long legs, round ass all combine to create the quintessential sexual being, and I have always thought it a shame that only one person at a time could enjoy seeing such a perfect example of femininity.

Well, if I'm being completely honest, it's not just the idea of putting her on display for the world to enjoy. Since we first started dating, my fantasy has always been not to only to show her off but to watch her in the throes of pleasure before a captivated audience. A woman with her natural advantages shouldn't be kept under a bushel basket.

But in the five years we've been married, I had resigned myself to the idea that this desire would live only in my imagination. Despite the fact that my beautiful Michelle had limitless sexual energy, she never seemed willing to venture outside of our marriage.

Doubly frustrating was the fact that her imagination was nearly as fervent as my own. We never kept our fantasies secret from each other, and our best sex always happened after a couple of drinks lowered our inhibitions and we shared our ideal scenarios. Sometimes when we talked about them, we never even got as far as actually fucking and ended up both cumming from foreplay alone.

"What would you like to see?" Michelle would purr, pressing her body against me.

"You know," I would reply.

"No, I don't. You need to tell me."

"I want to see a crowd of people surround you. I want to see you lying on the ground, naked, with your legs spread as they press in around you."

"What do they get to see me do?" she would ask, wrapping her soft, hot hand around my hardening cock.

"You start by rubbing your clit, and then you work your fingers inside yourself. First one, then two, then three as you push them deep in your pussy and rub your clit with your other hand."

She would start jerking me faster, increasing the rhythm of her hand sliding up and down my shaft. "What are they doing, the people watching me?" she would ask in my ear, her breath hot, her voice low and sensual.

"They're nude too, and their eyes are glued to you. They're fucking each other, men bending their women forward and thrusting into them from behind as they all watch you fucking yourself."

"Does anyone touch me?"

"Of course. The nearest ones all reach out and grab for whatever they can get - your tits, your ass, one girl even manages to slip a couple of her fingers into your pussy as well."

"Uhnh," she would growl, rubbing and jerking faster.

"Soon, you can't stand it any longer. You arch your back, and you're cumming. Your pussy is tightening on your fingers, the girl's fingers, your nipples are being twisted and sucked, and you cum again and again, your body twitching and your tight pink cunt spasming."

"Unhh, aggh."

She would typically let go of my cock at the climax of the story and rub her clit furiously, letting waves of pleasure wash over her as she shuddered with her own actual orgasm. She'd allow herself a couple of seconds to catch her breath, then turn over and suck my cock into her mouth with the same intensity. Within moments I would let go and shoot my load into her. She would suck greedily at my cock and pump as much of my cum as she could down her throat.

Now, don't mistake me. I know how lucky I am to have a woman who's not only gorgeous but who will also jerk and suck me off to a shared fantasy. But the truth is that it's a little disappointing to have her, once it's all over, dismiss it as "only a story." Once this scenario played itself out a few times, I figured that it was as close as I would get to being able to live my fantasy of displaying my gorgeous wife to an appreciative crowd.

Except that it wasn't. Not once last Halloween happened.

I still don't know at this point if it was fate or only a fortunate confluence of events. It doesn't really matter; what matters is that I finally got the chance I had dreamed of.

We were both about to turn thirty and had been talking about how we missed those late nights partying when we were just out of college. So when we got an unexpected invite to a Halloween party from a friend of one of my colleagues from work, we were eager to go. I didn't know the people hosting the party, but I'd heard around the office that they were well off and had a beautiful home. I'd also learned that their parties were known for getting pretty wild sometimes. That tidbit of knowledge I kept to myself, just on the off chance it might make Michelle balk at going.

It had been a few years since we'd done the costume thing, so we were at something of a loss. Then I had what turned out to be a critical moment of inspiration.

I read in The New York Journal that the famous liquor absinthe had only recently been legalized in the U.S. and that it was again a trendy drink after an almost hundred-year hiatus. The bohemians in Paris in the late 1800's loved their absinthe, and at the time many people believed it had near-hallucinogenic properties. I suppose that's why it was so popular with creative types and lead to some of their more outlandish behavior. It was this notion, combined with the fact that the drink was represented by the image of a sexy green fairy, that ended up providing the impetus for what would turn out to be an unforgettable night for us.

Michelle had originally been a lit major in college before she switched programs, so she was familiar with the legendary green liquor. When I proposed an absinthe theme for our night, she agreed, thinking it would be a little unusual but entirely appropriate. I would pretend to be a writer dressed in Victorian attire, she'd be the Green Fairy, and the absinthe would be a novel hostess gift. It was the perfect package.

Getting hold of a Victorian gentleman's suit wasn't that hard, since theatrical supply companies have tons of period clothing. My wife's costume, however, was another matter.

We searched the costume shops in our area, but while basic fairy costumes are easy to find, Michelle wanted just the right one. Naturally, it had to be green, so that cut out a lot of them. Then, some were far too conservative while others were far too slutty for her tastes. Most men would agree that there's no such thing as "too slutty," but she didn't want to walk into a party looking as though she were there only to turn tricks. I guess I saw her point.

After a couple of weekends of scouring the local shops, we decided to try our luck at one of those seasonal costume superstores. Almost immediately, Michelle found the perfect outfit.

At first I didn't think she'd go for it. It was the requisite color, a deep forest green, but it seemed to be too revealing. The bottom of the dress, which was made of overlapping layers of cloth that resembled leaves, came down two inches below her ass and accentuated her long, shapely legs. The top was strapless. In fact, it acted like a bustier, pushing her soft breasts up and making it seem as though they were displayed on a shelf. The front of the dress only covered about half an inch above her nipples, effectively leaving about 90% of her breasts completely exposed. A multi-sectioned set of diaphanous wings completed the nymphet look.

When she came out of the dressing room and twirled around for me, I was agog. I'd never seen her look sexier, standing there in the middle of the store with her breasts nearly bursting out of her top and her pussy only covered by a narrow fringe of overhanging fabric. I felt like grabbing her, pushing her up against the wall, and fucking her right there.

"Wait a sec," I said. "What about your 'I don't want to look like a hooker' thing?"

"I know, but I feel so luscious wearing it. And," she said, grinning, "I know you're not going to mind, since you're constantly trying to tart me up and show me off."

"Right, no objection here. But why the change of heart?"

"Because it comes with this." She dashed back into the dressing room for a moment and returned wearing an ornamented green mask decorated in delicate twigs that swept upwards and covered the upper part of her face. Unlike those standard eye masks you can pick up for a buck around Halloween, it wasn't just cheap, thin plastic. It was thicker but still a little flexible, and it conformed to her face. When she put it on, it rounded out the costume, making her look like something that could have emerged from a Greek nature myth.

"I figured that since we're not likely to see a lot of people we know and the party's over an hour away from home, why not be a little daring? Just so long as nobody can see who I really am."

She seemed to be drawing bravery from this idea, and I allowed myself to hope that I finally had a chance of realizing my fantasy.


The two weeks to Halloween passed with an agonizing slowness, but the night of the party finally came. Since our host's house was some distance away, we checked into a hotel only about ten minutes' drive from the party. I got ready quickly, then lay back on the bed to watch Michelle primp and put the finishing touches on her look. I noticed that she had allowed herself an extra spray of perfume, was paying more attention than usual to her makeup and lipstick, and had put on a matching dark green thong.

"Gorgeous, that's how you look," I said. "No, wait, that doesn't nearly begin to cover it. Actually, I think that 'absolutely fuckable' is a more apt description."

"Aww, you're so sweet. You really know how to charm a girl," she said, winking at me in the mirror.

"I wouldn't say it if it weren't true," I responded, getting up and hugging her tightly from behind. "You'll be lucky if you make it all the way back here from the party with that dress in once piece, if I have my way about it." I turned her around to kiss her, but she slipped away to the side.

"No! You'll smudge my lipstick," she said as she drew back.

Then a wicked grin spread over her face. She pulled me in close and put her lips to my ear, breathing her words in a hoarse whisper. "Besides...I want to make you wait, make you desperate for me. I want to tease you until you reach your breaking point and grab me and pound me and jam that cock of yours up into me and flood my cunt with your cum."

She pulled back again and held me at arm's length, her deep brown eyes narrowed and seductive. "What do you think of my plan for the evening?" she asked.

I swallowed hard, my throat suddenly dry. I managed to croak out, "It sounds...nice."


The party was underway by the time we pulled into the long driveway and parked on the lawn. We entered and saw that the house was packed. From what I could see from the foyer alone, there had to be well over a hundred people. We were greeted almost instantly by the host's wife Cynthia, a trim attractive blonde in her mid-30's who was dressed in a catsuit complete with whiskers and a tail. Like Michelle, Cynthia was showing off her cleavage, and she gave my wife an appreciative once-over as she welcomed us in.

"Come on in...what the hell did you bring...absinthe? Really?! I'd always meant to try this stuff," she said, ushering us into the great room. She looked at the label, then at Michelle, then nodded. "Oh, cute, I get it. You're the Green Fairy come to life."

Michelle nodded in return, and we allowed Cynthia to steer us to the bar that was set up by the French windows that ran along the side of the room. Our hostess handed the bartender the bottle and gave instructions that only she and her husband and Michelle and I were allowed to have any.

"Let's start things off right," said Cynthia. She grabbed four shot glasses, poured some absinthe into each one, and arranged them in a row on the bar. "Drink!" she commanded.

We did, and the powerful liquor coursed its way down our throats. Cynthia took up the fourth shot, saying, "I've got to go find my husband. He's gonna love this." In a moment she had disappeared.

"O.K.," said Michelle, after watching Cynthia melt into the mass of partygoers, the shot glass held high above her. "I think I like that girl. She's a trip."

I agreed and suggested we have another shot of the absinthe before Cynthia and her husband found their way back to the bar and finished off the rest of the bottle. We downed another round, and then made our way out into the party itself.

We wended our way through the crowd, pushing through knots of congregated guests. The house apparently was only one story but seemed to have an endless series of rooms. After a few minutes of exploring, we found ourselves in a sunken living room that had been turned into a temporary dance floor complete with DJ. The lighting was a little more subdued here than in the rest of the house, and the DJ had set up colored light stanchions that blinked in random patterns and gave the ordinary living room more of a club-like atmosphere.

On our way to the living room, I had noticed that Michelle was getting a lot of attention from the other guests. Being Halloween, there were plenty of attractive women in the usual revealing outfits -- witches, chamber maids, bunnies, and so on. But Michelle's natural sensuality, displayed so effectively by her unique costume and accentuated by what appeared to be an unconscious sashay, seemed to attract a considerable amount of attention.

We barely had time to secure a spot along the living room wall so that we could survey the room when the first man approached us.

He was of average height and dressed in a poor imitation of a cop's uniform. He sidled up to Michelle, scanning her figure with a slightly unfocused gaze.

"Hi, I'm Dylan," he said, looking up just in time to avoid introducing himself only to her breasts.

"Hi, Dylan," said my wife. "I'm Annabelle. This is my husband Allan. Enjoying the party?"

"Yeah, but I'd like it more if you'd dance with me. You mind, Al?" What he lacked in stature and charm he compensated for with plenty of sack.

Michelle looked at me, a devilish smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.

"Go ahead, Annabelle, enjoy yourself," I said, grabbing a handful of her ass and pushing her out towards the dance floor.

She and Dylan began dancing to the bass-heavy music. Surprisingly, Dylan at first kept a little distance between them, but as the song progressed, he slipped his hand behind my wife's back and drew her closer. By the time the song was over, he had reached down to Michelle's ass and was grinding his pelvis into hers. She broke away from him, then leaned in to whisper into his ear. As she drew back, he gave her a quick kiss on the lips and made his way off the dance floor in the opposite direction. Michelle came back and hung on my shoulder, beads of perspiration beginning to form on her chest.

"Did you mind that, hon?"

"What? The dance or the kiss he snuck in at the end?"

"Both. Either. Whichever."

"Nah," I said. "The only thing I mind is the obvious pseudonyms you gave us."

She grabbed hold of me fully and kissed me hard, Frenching me. She stopped long enough to lean in and say, "I want to be somebody else tonight, just for a couple hours."

Her energy and the earnestness with which she said this were as intoxicating as the absinthe.

"Fine by me," I replied as I returned the kiss. "In fact, I think that for these few hours, you are a single woman again."

With this, I took her hand and slipped off her wedding and engagement rings. I then took my own off and put them all in my pocket. "And you know what? I think I need to find the men's room. See you in a bit." She gaped at me for a moment, then I turned and left the room.


I could hardly believe what was happening. My demure wife, who had never allowed me to show her off, had turned with very little warning into something of exhibitionist. Maybe it was the anonymity provided by her mask and our false names, or maybe it was the effects of the absinthe. I didn't really care at that moment. All I knew was that I had finally maneuvered my wife into displaying and celebrating her beautiful body, and I was willing to take risks to make sure I didn't lose the moment.

I headed to the bathroom with deliberate slowness, and there was naturally a line. By the time I returned to the living room-cum-dance floor thirty minutes later, there had been a noticeable change in the atmosphere. There was now a crowd pressing into the room, making the space that had seemed so large before appear much smaller and more intimate. The lights were also a little lower, the bass-heavy music a little deeper.

The party guests, men and women alike, formed a periphery around the dance floor, and I made my way to the edge of it.

There were only a few couples on it now, and all of them were grinding into each other, putting on a sensual show for the onlookers that clustered around. In the center was the main attraction -- Michelle.

In the time that I had been gone, she had gained a new dance partner but lost most of her modesty. Her skirt, which had barely reached mid-thigh to begin with, was now crumpled and pushed up so that it rested just below her ass. Her bustier seemed looser now, and, though her breasts were still technically contained, each thrust of her body upward in time to the music gave the crowd a momentary view of her nipples.

"Jesus, would you look at her!" exclaimed a short devil to my right. "Can I just tell you how much I would love to lay her down and just fuckin' fuck the ever-loving shit out of her?"

"Who wouldn't?" I replied.

"Check this out though," he said. "At least I got her panties!" He held up the green thong I had seen my wife slip on only a few hours earlier. I stared for a moment, then recovered.

"Nice," I said. "How'd you manage to score that?"

"The guy dancing with her now, you see him? Well, the guy before started to feel her up under her skirt, so she pushed off him and pulled down her panties. Then she whipped them around and threw them out to the crowd, like a fucking bridal bouquet. But I caught them!" He was beaming.

"Great souvenir."

"Yeah, yeah. Besides, I don't think she'll need them again tonight, right? That's the fourth guy she's danced with. At some point, one of those motherfuckers is bound to get lucky."

I didn't say anything but simply nodded.

I had realized my dream.

My wife was in the middle of a massive crowd with nothing on but a skimpy dress - no bra, no panties now, nothing. Just her, some rapidly contracting fabric, and scores of fascinated people.

Oh, and the guy grinding into her at the moment.

I turned my attention back to Michelle. The song was coming to an end, and I noticed for the first time that a line of men had formed close to her, jockeying for position, hoping to be the next one she would dance with.

Just before the song was over, a tall man dressed as a pirate made his way to the front of the crowd. He was clothed entirely in black, but his puffy silk shirt was open almost down to his navel, showing off his contrasting light skin and a muscular chest and abdomen. He maneuvered deftly to the front of the line, and when Michelle spun away from her current partner, he stepped forward and propelled her back onto the dance floor.

My wife allowed herself to be directed back into her conspicuous position in the center of the room, and even before she had taken up her spot, her hand had slipped inside of his shirt to rub his torso.

The DJ must have sensed that this new partner had more prowess than the others, since he transitioned from the non-descript house music he had been playing to Nine Inch Nails' raw sex anthem "Closer." Before long, the pirate was grinding into Michelle, running his hands over her body and leaning in close to kiss her from the tops of her breasts up to her throat just below her ears. She matched his rhythm and lolled her head backward, allowing him to ravage her as he liked.

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