Angel Lost in the Dar

I don’t know how I did it, but after she had stopped crying I managed to talk her into not only going bar hopping with me that evening but wearing some new clothes that I would buy her in the morning. Dressing in a new and sexier style, I suggested, would do wonders for her self-esteem, and if she could learn to be a little less concerned about her body image, I could be a little more attentive to her needs when it came to making love. At first she was embarrassed at the thought of it, but as the conversation continued she slowly came around to the logic of my proposal, and in the end she agreed. She was my wife, and I certainly didn’t want her to act like a slut, but I did want to watch her showing off a little. I made up my mind that at some point in the evening I would suggest that she take off her panties. If I could just get her to loosen up enough to do that then the whole experiment would be a victory of major proportions. I didn’t expect her to let anyone know she was naked under her dress, but I was hoping that the very act would help soften her resistance to other sexual requests I might have.

I knew her sizes and after driving to the mall I made my first stop at Victoria’s Secret where I purchased some very sexy under things. Next I concentrated my efforts on finding outerwear - a dress, a skirt, a blouse, a shirt - anything that struck my fancy. I tried to pick out items that were a little daring, to be sure, but not so daring that it would turn her off. Definitely no latex rubber dresses, no stiletto heels, no black fishnet stockings, no dress slit all the way up the side, and definitely no micro-micro-MICRO minis, either. I wanted her to be sexy, not sexual. I finally picked out a red skirt that came down almost to the knees, and a black belt to go along with it. For the top I had selected a white shirt made of a translucent material. I had bought black panties and bra, but since the shirt was white I went back to see Victoria again and I quickly bought another matching set in white in case she wasn’t comfortable with the black showing through. I was hoping that she wouldn’t wear the bra, but I knew deep down that it was only a pipe dream.

I had a raging hard on by the time I got home. Just fantasizing about what MIGHT happen was enough to excite me, and I was anxious to see how she looked in the new clothes. As I handed her the packages I said “I hope you like these. I can always return them if you don’t. Why don’t you go to the bedroom and try them on to see if they fit you, OK?”

She actually seemed happier now than she had been the night before. She was radiant, and for the first time in a long while I found my heart was pounding in anticipation of seeing her naked. “I’ll be out in a minute,” she said, her eyes twinkling as she took the package into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Her entire demeanor had changed 180 degrees from what it had been for a long, long time. She was happy and I was happy for her. Why couldn’t it always be this way?

I didn’t have to wait too long, and when the door opened she peeked out and giggled. “I thought you’d like to see me in the panties and bras first,” and then she swung back the door and stood in the doorway and modeled the black ones. The panties were bikini style and had fake knots on the side giving the impression they were tied. They rode low on her stomach and short wisps of pubic hair stuck out from the sides where the satiny material was loose against her legs. As she turned around I saw that the back of it was almost transparent and designed to ride low enough that the crack of her ass protruded above the material. The bra wasn’t exactly what I had envisioned it would be, but I suppose it was sexy enough. It held her breasts up and apart which made them appear larger than they really were, but aside from that it was nothing special.

“If I wear these I suppose I should shave myself,” she said with a wicked grin on her face. “I’m sticking out all over the place.” I watched her ass as it wiggled out of the room and she modestly closed the door again. I was so horny that I could have ripped everything off and fucked her right there on the floor, but the evening awaited and I wanted to keep myself as potent as possible.

When next she returned she was wearing the white panties and bra. I had thought that the black ones looked great on her, but the white ones were fantastic. I hadn’t realize just how sheer the front was, and when she turned around I saw that there was nothing there except a small string of fabric that extended from between her legs to almost the top of her panties before flaring out at the highest possible point to meet the elastic band above. Both cheeks were exposed in their entirety and had I not been able to see the top of string I would have sworn that her entire ass was bare. The front of it was completely transparent and I could visually see the tangled hair that covered her pussy. The white bra top was also transparent. I could see her perky little nipples as they pushed themselves against the flimsy fabric. Unlike the previous bra this one made no attempt at holding anything in place. All it did was cover them and it didn’t really do a good job at that. I loved it.

“So, how do I look in these,” she said as she pirouetted in front of me.

“Fantastic,” I answered. “I wish I had bought these for you a long time ago.”

She blushed suddenly, but composed herself quickly. “Now I’m going to put on the shirt and the skirt. Which underwear did you want me to wear with them, the white ones or the black ones?”

“Why not model them both for me?

She went into the bedroom and when she returned she was still in her bra and panties and was carrying the rest of her clothes over her arm. “There’s no sense in going back and forth between here and the bedroom,” she said. “If it’s OK with you I’ll just do the rest of my changing right here.

“How about no panties and no bra?” I said with a wide grin on my face.

She smiled and said, “OK.” She pulled her panties down and then unhooked the bra and let it fall to the floor. There was nothing there that I hadn’t seen hundreds of times before, but because of her mood, her joy at being naked in front to me, her shamelessness in the wanton way she exhibiting herself to me now, I couldn’t help but be swept up in my passion. I reached out to bring her close, to kiss her lips, to feel her body pressed against mine, my hands free to roam wherever I wanted.

“Oops, no touching now. You can watch, but you can’t touch.”

She put the shirt on first and then the skirt. She had always put on the her clothes from the bottom to the top before, and the mere sight of her standing there buttoning her shirt while her bare cunt was staring me in face made me almost lose control. I wanted so much to just throw her down on the floor and poke it in her. She then turned around and bent over from the waist to pick up the dress that was on the floor, and as she did her buttocks parted and I saw her anus flash itself quickly in front of my eyes only to close a split second later. Dear God, please let her stay this free with her body for the rest of our lives.

“How many buttons should I leave open? One? Two? Three?” She was looking at me in the mirror that hung on the wall, watching both herself and me as she as she played with the buttons on her shirt. “One’s not enough, but three seems a little too much. What do you think, Tom?”

I laughed and said, “Try four.” Two would be a slight improvement from what her normal décolletage would be, but it would be far from daring. Four might be to bold for me to even consider, but three would have suited me just right. She unbuttoned the fourth one and then studied herself again in the mirror. “I think I’ll settle for just two, thank you very much,” and she hurriedly buttoned up the shirt again.

********

It was after seven PM when we left the third bar, and we had each consumed four mixed drinks apiece. The effects of the alcohol was muted somewhat by the free food that was served as part of Happy Hours, but we were both starting to feel little giddy. I couldn’t help but noticed that Helen was becoming much more relaxed and careless with how the clothes fit on her. The third button had come loose somewhere in the middle of the third drink and she either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Once when I returned from a trip to the Men’s room I noticed that the skirt was riding high on her legs and her knees were spread open a little. No one was in a position to see, of course, but her carelessness bode well for the rest of the evening.

As we drove out of the parking lot in search of yet another watering hole, I made a mental note to drive as carefully as I could. Even with the food, I was feeling no pain. I certainly didn’t want to spoil the evening by getting a DUI.

Terry’s Tavern was only four blocks away, and while I certainly wasn’t planning anything, the dark lighting and its normal lack of patrons would make for a perfect spot to get a little frisky. I certainly didn’t want to do anything even remotely as daring as the couple that I had watched before, but I knew that we could do things there that we couldn’t get away with anywhere else. I was scheduling that for our last stop of the night, but night was still a good hour or so away and I wanted Helen to have a few more drinks and be more relaxed and giggly before taking her there. It was as if I was trying to walk a tightrope with drunken stupor on one side and uninhibited disregard of social etiquette on the other. There were lines that I wouldn’t cross, but my fantasies allowed me to cross more than I knew Helen was capable of, and having a fantasy denied was better than having no fantasy at all, wasn’t it? Besides, who knew? Somehow I had managed to turn last night’s argument into this evening’s adventure by pure luck, so who was to say that luck wouldn’t be on my side again?

As we drove down the street and passed Terry’s Tavern I started searching for a nice place to settle in for the next few hours. I wanted to find one within walking distance since I planned on buying us at least another two or three rounds while we there biding our time. I had only been to Terry’s after 8:30 or so, and I wanted to wait until at least then to make our appearance. I was hoping that it would be as perfect as ever and I didn’t want to screw things up by arriving too early only to find it filled with people.

We finally spotted a nice friendly neighborhood lounge two short blocks away and we went in. Unlike Terry’s, this place was brightly lit and filled with customers. We found a booth on the far side of the room, isolating ourselves from the crowd, and as the cocktail waitress came over to our booth and took our order I noticed that the three buttons of Helen’s shirt were still undone and I could see her bare skin all the way to below the bottom of the bra. I certainly didn’t want to say anything to her (I was still wasn’t sure it was accidental) so I did nothing. We both ordered a Margarita, our fourth for the evening, and when the waitress left I asked Helen “How are you holding up? I don’t want you to be completely sober, but I don’t want you to think I’m trying to get you drunk either,”

“Why not? Wasn’t that the plan? I haven’t been drunk for years and it feels good.” She just looked at me with those pixie eyes of hers and added, “I just hope you don’t take advantage of me when we get home.”

“Me? I would never think of taking advantage of you,” I said with an exaggerated leer, then I leaned across the table and whispered in her ear, “but I was hoping you’d take advantage of me.”

“I’m too shy and naïve for that.”

“I’d like to think you pretend shyness. You haven’t been shy today.”

She took another sip of her Margarita and then said, “I’m just pretending not to be shy.”

“Well, you’re doing a pretty good job of it.” My eyes purposely dropped down to her open blouse and when she saw where I was looking she said, “My God! How low long has that been unbuttoned?”

“For about an hour. I first noticed it sometime during out third drink.”

“You should have told me,” she said and she started to button it up.

“Don’t,” I said, “You look fantastic the way you are. Leave it unbuttoned.”

“I can’t do that. People are going to notice and they’d think I was showing off. How many drinks have we had anyway?

“Four,” I answered, “and this one makes fifth.. Were you?”

“Were I what? I mean, WAS I what. God, I’m already slurring my words.”

“Were you trying to show off?”

“No. You know me better than that.”

“Well, I knew the old you, but after our discussion last night and then the way you modeled those clothes this afternoon I thought maybe I was getting to know the new you. Admit it, you were getting all hot and bothered by showing yourself off to me that way.”

“Modeling the clothes was one thing, and sitting here with my bra showing is something else. You’re my husband and I don’t mind showing off for you in the privacy of our home, but out in public it’s different.” She took another drink of her Margarita. For all her protesting I made a mental note that the button was still unbuttoned and the bra was still visible and she was still drinking. I knew how I was feeling, and I drank more often than she did. I could only guess at the degree of her intoxication.

“Well, as long as you’re pretending not to be shy, why don’t you pretend that you don’t know it’s unbuttoned? You weren’t concerned about it when you didn’t know and it certainly didn’t do you any harm. Just leave it the way it is. How many times have you just said to yourself ‘to hell with it, I’m having fun and I don’t give a shit what people think?’ Just let yourself go for a change and have some wicked fun”

It was chancy for me to say what I did. In the first place she didn’t usually care for vulgar language. I don’t remember her ever saying ‘shit’ before, and I was afraid that my comment about wicked fun would make her think twice about what she was doing.

“So seeing me naked this afternoon turned you on, huh?” She was leaning over the table in front of me giving me a closer look down her blouse. She was smiling and running thumb around the rim of her Margarita glass.

.“It definitely turned me on. I felt like making love to you right there on the floor.”

Again I felt I was pushing the envelope. We had done it on the floor before, as well as the backyard and a few memorable times in the open when we went on our yearly vacations, but she never really enjoyed it as much as when we did it in bed. Somehow the bed represented safety to her and any place else seemed dangerous, uncomfortable, or perverted.

“You’ve seen me naked before. Why did my modeling the clothes get you so excited?”

I paused for a moment to search for the perfect answer, and while I was thinking I was studying her. Her thumb was still tracing circles across the rim of her glass, and while her eyes seemed somewhat unfocused, they also seemed to shine with happiness.

When I finally spoke I said, “Have you ever seen a guy you thought was absolutely drop dead handsome, yet you didn’t find him sexy at all? Men feel the same way about women. Some are beautiful, but they aren’t sexy. Others can actually be ugly, but they have a certain something that makes them sexier than hell. You can call it charisma if you want, but I think it’s more than that. I think it’s a reflection of their confidence. Your sexy if you feel sexy, and other people pick up on it.”

“You think I’ve been acting sexy?”

“Sure. Don’t you feel sexy?”

“Yes,” she said as she traced another circle on the rim of her glass, “but I’d rather be beautiful than sexy.”

“You’re beautiful, all right. Being sexy just makes you more so. Come on, you know what I meant.”

She smiled and then said, “I’ve got to confess something. When you were watching me change clothes I…well…you know.” She blushed slightly and added, “I was getting a little excited.”

“Sexually excited? You mean you were getting hot?”

She looked in my eyes and said. “Does that really surprise you? You act as if I never get turned on. Yes, I got hot. If you want the real truth in made me horny.”

It was a shock for me to hear that coming from her. Had I been wrong about her all these years? Was there really a hot-blooded woman underneath the ice queen façade?

It seemed I had stared at her for a very long time before I finally said, “You should have told me.”

“Why? Does it matter all that much whether I’m excited or not?”

“Of course it makes a difference. I want to know that you’re at least having fun.”

“OK, from now on I’ll tell you when I get that way. Will you tell me too?”

“Yes, I promise. In fact, I’m very horny right now.”

She smiled and said. “So am I.” She stopped circling the Margarita glass and then brought her thumb to her mouth and sucked off the salt. She drank the rest of her what was in the glass and then added “Well, while we’re trying to figure this out, how ‘bout another Margarita. If I’m going to be hanging out of my shirt all night I might as I might as well get drunk enough to enjoy it.”

**********

All of a sudden I realized that while she might not fulfill all of my fantasies for the evening, she was at least going to satisfy some of them. She was willing to try, and that thought alone was making me hard again. When the waitress came back to the table I watched Helen’s eyes as I ordered another round. She was looking up at the waitress, trying to tell, I suppose, whether the waitress noticed her exposed bra. To Helen this was a rather daring exposure, but that was only to Helen. The waitress gave no indication that she had noticed anything amiss. After she left I looked in Helen’s eyes and said, “Feels kind of good to be a wicked, doesn’t it?” as I lowered my eyes down to her chest.

“It does, doesn’t it? Now that I’ve sat here for a while I’m getting comfortable with it. I mean, my back IS to the bar so no one can see the front of me except you, and I’m really doing this for you, aren’t I?”

“Yes, for me. But I’d like to think you’re doing it for yourself too,”

“Yes, for me too. Tell me if anyone is coming, Ok?” After saying that she unbuttoned the fourth button and then pulled down her bra and freed her tits.

She leaned against the back of the booth and crossed her arms over her chest. At first I thought she was just covering up out of modesty, but then I noticed that she was pinching each nipple with her thumb and middle finger, pulling them from side to side and from top to top. “I’m not doing anything wrong, am I? It just makes me feel so good to play with them while you’re watching. You like me doing this? Tell me that I’m not doing anything wrong. You WILL tell me if anyone’s coming, won’t you?”

I could tell she was nervous, but she was coming out of her shell in a big way. Helen had never – and I mean NEVER – given any indication that she would ever do something like this. I stared at her bare tits and was unable to speak. Surely it was the alcohol that was making it possible. It went far beyond the most daring thing she had ever done before, and the most puzzling part was that I had not asked her to do it. She was doing it of her own free will.

“No and yes and no,” I sighed, “No, you’re not doing anything wrong, and yes I like you doing this, and no I can’t tell you if anyone’s coming because I’m looking at your tits and not the bar.”

“Are my nipples as hard as they feel?”

“Oh yes,” I whispered back, “They’re rock hard and pointed, and…and…oh so wonderful to look at.”

She rolled her tongue over her lips and in a quiet voice said, “You can touch them if you want. I’d like to feel your hands squeezing them and playing with them. Here, I’ll help you.” Suddenly, without warning, she stood up and leaned forward over the table to make then more accessible to my hands. Her blouse was now pulled completely out of the skirt and it was unbuttoned all the way down. As she leaned forward it opened up and I had a sudden fear that those in the bar could see her. I could feel my blood pressure rising.