I hope you don't mind if I share another story with you. I've only just sat down to share this with you and already my wife is looking flushed.
My wife and I have a wonderful relationship, don't get me wrong, we've had our fair share of problems too. But we are both loving, open and honest with each other and have a mutual respect.
I think we've already established that my wife likes the attention of other men. She likes them to look at her. To watch her in the throes of passion. Watch her while she pleases me. As for me, whilst I don't share, so to speak, I do like men to desire what is mine, to feel envious, to know that I'm the only one who gets to touch.
So, here we are, a Saturday morning in August and it's my wife's birthday. I prepared breakfast for her, which we both ate in bed. I have also had to keep my hands to myself, which is killing me. I have a little treat planned for my wife and I know I'm going to benefit from it greatly. So, instead of fucking my wife, I tell her to go and jump in the shower.
I can hear the water running in the bathroom as I rummage in the back of my wardrobe for the gift box I have hidden there. I place it on the bed and call out to my wife, "Honey? I've left something on the bed. I want you to wear it when you come down."
I hear a muffled shout of agreement from the bathroom. I pull on my robe and make my way downstairs.
I'm pottering around the living room when there's a knock on door. I glance at my watch, "Right on time," I think to myself.
Opening the front door, I greet our visitor and invite him in. Showing him into the dining room, I instruct him to set up in front of the French doors. "It's nice and light there," I say. I also know that our neighbour often looks out of his upstairs study window to see if he can spot my wife.
"Sweetheart, where are you?" my wife calls.
"In the dining room. I have a surprise for you," I call back to her.
The door opens and our visitor and myself turn to face it. "Holy Shit!!" I hear whispered from just behind me. My wife has entered the room wearing her gift. It's a black, diaphanous robe. It reaches to mid-thigh and although my wife has it secured tightly, the fact that she is naked underneath has my cock stiffening.
Ok, I admit I didn't leave anything other than the robe for her to wear, but still, it's even more erotic than I imagined. We can see everything through the gauze. Firm, high tits with light brown areolas. And a plump, bare mound.
My wife's eyes widen when she sees us both standing staring at her. "Oh, erm. Hi!" she says, looking at me for an explanation.
"This is Ben. He's a masseuse, and he's here to give us both a massage," I explain. My wife smiles, and if I'm not mistaken, her nipples harden against the soft material.
I volunteer to go first and have my wife sit in the armchair I have placed facing the French doors. I remove my robe, now naked and climb up onto the massage table and lie on my front. Ben covers my arse with a small hand towel and proceeds to massage me.
We make small talk between the three of us and before I know it, I'm ready to turn over onto my back. Ben picks up the corners of the towel on the side where my wife sits and lifts it. Allowing me to turn over, preserving my modesty (me modest?? I know, don't laugh!). Ben starts massaging again and we continue talking.
Now that I can see Ben's face I can see his longing looks at my wife. She is sitting opposite us, legs crossed hiding her pussy but tits visible through the robe. My wife shifts, uncrossing her legs, moving to the other arse cheek and re-crossing her legs. I feel the pressure from Ben's hands increase, as we both strain to catch a glimpse of pussy.
Deciding I don't want some bloke's hardening cock near me, I declare myself done and say it's my wife's turn.
Situating myself in the armchair, robe back in place, I watch my wife remove her robe and climb on the massage table, lying on her stomach. Ben covers her peachy arse with the towel and picks up the massage oil.
I watch as he oils and rubs his hands over my wife's back and arms, before moving down to her feet. My wife's legs are slightly parted and as he massages her feet I know he's looking under the towel. He must be able to see her slit. I wonder if she's getting wet. He puts one foot down before picking up the other. But I notice he put the other foot down in a wider position than before.
"Nicely done," I think to myself. Has he managed to part her pussy lips slightly? Is her clit peeking out? After a few minutes of me watching him I clear my throat. He takes the hint and puts her foot down and starts to massage her legs. I'm enjoying watch her skin glisten with oil.
