Bucets

I'll try not to repeat too much, but recommend the reader check out my story, "Buckets," (also in Exhibitionist/Voyeur) first, to get the background.

***

Hello again. I'm still David, and Anna's still the wife (5'4", 135#, 34C-30-38, blue with brown). As her 49th approached, she worried the usual worries about getting older, life passing by, and such. I urged her to make a bucket list of things to do. That little exercise helped, and led to a better outlook along with plans to travel and read and learn.

Her initial list had nothing sexual, nothing even vaguely romantic in it, and I, as an admittedly dirty and also aging man, pressed the issue. That led to an agreement that we'd both come up with a follow-on list to reignite the spark between us. Agreeing to share one item at a time off the expanded list, I wanted her to make a conscious effort to be sexy for me for two months, just on the weekends (hey, I'm not the indefatigable sport I used to be). She in turn wanted to, or sort of grudgingly put on the table to go skinny dipping with me sometime.

The following weeks were wonderful - she came through big time on her trying to be sexier, and for my money, it worked like gangbusters - new lingerie appeared, stroking and groping and flirting and kissing like teenagers, with more and better orgasms for us both. And her worries about turning 49 seemed forgotten, or at least overwhelmed. The skinny dip was sort of a bust at first, but turned out great as well. We went to a quarry at night, thought we were alone, swam naked, and went through the preliminaries of lovemaking out on a raft on the water, only to hear applause after she orgasmed. She was embarrassed that we'd been seen, and were still being seen by a younger couple whom we could barely detect in the dark, back on the shoreline. They were standing over our discarded clothes, so there was no way we could escape (yes, the place was fenced as well) without going back there. Teasing us, the guy, Derek (we learned thanks to his girlfriend's admonishing him), offered to even things up, and soon we were all naked and checking each other out as the price of getting out of there.

Turning down Derek's offer to get stoned and party - not quite our thing - we made our way back to our parked car. I thought the whole night had been a disaster, despite my having been turned on by watching Derek's girlfriend in her slim nakedness, and Derek being turned on, obviously and somewhat prodigiously, by watching Anna's embarrassment as well as her gorgeous and naked body. Derek and his girl departed the scene, and we headed back to our car. The big surprise of the night was that it got to Anna, too, and we fucked, vigorously, with her crying out as she came, bent over the warm hood of our car,. All that's in the basic story, so this picks up from there.

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We drove home, mostly in silence, but holding hands, lost in our individual thoughts. I was thrilled that she had found the scene with Derek and his girl to be a turn-on, or at least so it seemed. This is what I'd longed for - a wife who would admit to a sexual side, and then to find it was exciting for her to attend to it, and to be attended to. I didn't know if she had some voyeurism (watching Derek and his bigger-than-mine cock start to swell and surge, there on the beach), or some exhibitionism (being watched by Derek and that one-eyed snake and maybe even the girlfriend), or just some newness of the whole scene compared to our usual much more vanilla sex life. She'd already gone way beyond my hopes in her efforts to be sexy for me, but this night had been proof that something was good for her beyond just doing me a favor! I also wondered just what was going on in that bright and mysterious brain of hers as we drove.

Arriving at home, we entered and without words shed our clothes once more as we walked briskly to the bedroom. Another enthusiastic fuck followed - a rarity for me to get things going more than once in an evening, and a rarity for her to acquiesce - hell, never mind almost demand, a continuation, especially after she'd already come out on the raft and again on the hood. I had a moment of self-doubt when it became clear she was wanting more sex, but she looked so damn good, and she looked so - feral or something - that my cock quickly reassured me that it was up to the challenge, and up it was indeed. We fell asleep and slept deeply - thankfully neither of us needed to be anywhere for the next several days.

I got up first the next morning, cleared through the bathroom regimen, and made coffee. She joined me, still sleepy-eyed and looking tousled and wonderful. I'd pulled on some gym shorts, and she appeared in a short robe - I think neither of us was quite sure how the other felt about the previous evening, in the light of morning.

"Hey, babe," I greeted her, offering her a steaming cup of coffee.

"Hey you, too," she said, and we kissed lightly.

We sipped, each shy to broach what we both knew we needed to discuss. I thought what the hell, at least she's showing no signs - yet - of remorse or recrimination.

"So, want to talk about last night?" I asked, tentatively.

"I'm not sure." She answered. "What's there to talk about - we got my skinny dipping thing out of my system - that's for certain!" she added, and then, thankfully, laughed lightly.

"Yeah, I suppose, although it didn't turn out as I'd expected."

"No," she answered, and seemed to drift off in her thoughts.

"OK, can I be frank?"

She nodded back.

"First off, I thought you were gorgeous, all naked and swimming - but you knew that. And I thought it was great that I got to taste you out on the raft, and that you let yourself go, and came for me, or, I hope, for you!"

She blushed at that, and looked down into her cup. I soldiered on. "And after the surprise of Derek and his girl being there and us having to get back to the beach, I loved that you stood up to them, proud in your beauty, not hiding yourself, and defiant in our being the ones who sort of had the rights to be there. And then, when Derek dropped his clothes, and his girl did, and we stood there, checking each other out, I was proud that he was getting an erection looking at my lady, and of course jealous that he was better endowed than I am, but mostly proud, and turned on partly by showing you off, and partly, I admit, by being naked myself and having his girl checking me out. So it was getting all exhibitionistic and voyeuristic for me, or so I thought, and then when we fucked back at the car, it seemed that it had gotten you hot as well, and I loved that, and I loved you getting off again - not to mention back here when we got back home! So, all in all, I'm busted as a dirty old man, but a dirty old man who's got the greatest female on the planet to go with him on this crazy journey. So there."

She didn't reply. Dang, do I have to pull teeth on this thing? "So, what do you think about it all?"

"I guess I'm still trying to digest it all. I admit, I was turned on by all that, and it's not something I expected. If you'd described that sort of scene and told me I would be turned on by it, I'd have said you were dreaming. I don't know yet if I just had a hormonal alignment, something like circadian or bio rhythms coming together, or if it was something I've denied that was there all along. I just don't know, but it was uncharacteristic, and until I can figure it out, I'm not comfortable with it, I guess."

I probably sighed, but persisted, "Take whatever time you need, Anna. Today's Friday, which is sort of a weekend, I guess, but I wouldn't want you to go through with the weekend deal if you're not ok with it." Recall that she'd pledged to try extra hard to be sexy on weekends for the next two months - and here it seemed that was going down the tubes.

"What week . . . oh, yeah, that first bucket list item of yours. Well, I said I would, so..."

I cut her off: "No, I don't want you to be doing it out of some duty, when you're so conflicted. You take your time. I won't bring it up again, to give you space. If sometime you want to do a restart, then fine. If not, it's not like this is going to break us up or anything."

"OK, well, thanks." And with that, she took her coffee and disappeared into the bedroom. Soon, I heard the shower turn on, and knew she was done talking, much less doing anything for that weekend.

Life went on. Doesn't it always. That weekend was polite but not much more, and the next week was back into our normal routine, and the next weekend came and went without any indication that she wanted a restart of anything but our normal, can I say boring, routine. I was bummed, but kept reminding myself that we had a pretty good life and that my wanting better sex was probably just selfish in the big scheme of things. I also recalled, frequently, that night at the quarry, wondering how to recapture that part of her, knowing it was there, hoping it might return.

It was yet the week after that one when I suggested we go out to a new restaurant. It was about a half hour away, maybe less with good traffic, out in the semi-country, rustic farmhouse, advertised as farm-to-table foodie kind of stuff. Anna had pointed out the rave review of it to me a couple of months before, and we just hadn't gotten to it. She was ok with the idea, so I made reservations for the coming Saturday. Late in the afternoon, I showered and dressed in loafers, slacks, a button-down, and a blazer, figuring I'd likely be overdressed but not noticeably so, and better that than underdressed for sure. I sat down and was watching an old movie on TV I'd seen lots of times, while Anna got ready.

I hardly noticed her return, not expecting anything out of the ordinary, and didn't even look up until she said, "Well, I guess it's about time to leave, don't you think?"

I checked my watch - she was right as usual - and turned to see her standing there in a sundress I'd never seen - pale yellow, spaghetti straps, cut low enough to show some cleavage, buttons down the front, knee-length, and with a full skirt. She looked gorgeous - her hair up, and something of a glow about her. "Wow!" I said.

"I hope that's a good 'wow,'" she answered, and then "Like it?" as she twirled, showing that it had more thin straps criss-crossing along hooks (sort of like hiking boot hooks - if there's a name for them, I don't know it) from where they started at the bottom edge up to being tied in a bow at the top hem, showing about a 6" expanse of skin from there down to where it started, lower on her waist than you'd expect - low as in you'd find yourself looking to see if you could discern cleavage down there as well - and making it obvious to the most casual observer that there was no bra strap, either vertical or horizontal, to be seen. Thank Nature for summer, as well - no way that dress could be worn in the winter outside the house without the threat of hypothermia!

"Definitely a good 'wow'! I take it that's new, or you'd have heard me say it's a favorite already!" I said, getting up and going to give her a hug. I grabbed her ass while I was there, and it felt great, through the single layer of cloth, as I knew it would. "Does this mean . . .?" I ventured.

"I guess yes, it means I'm back to fulfilling that two months on weekends of trying harder to be better for you," she said, a bit shyly, not looking me in the face.

"You're already the best for me - don't ever forget that," I said, and we kissed, gently but as if we'd crossed a divide to get to each other and wanted not to let that go unnoticed.

I can't recall just what I had at the restaurant that evening - I was pretty much taken by her appearance and attitude, being reminded of why I had fallen for her years before and counting my lucky stars for her decision to resume the sexy weekend thing. She settled into the 'role' as well, becoming more and more relaxed, and more and more coquettish during the evening, maybe thanks to our splitting most of a bottle of wine and after she'd started with a Cosmopolitan (a daring move on her part, not being a hard liquor drinker). She was leaning over, letting me gaze at the cleavage, and we were both making subtle and not so subtle remarks about the food (the large T-bone(r) I had, the peach half in her salad, that sort of thing) and anything else that came up in conversation.

The waiter was enjoying her show as well, as he returned to check on us more often than we needed. She'd turn to him as well, and lean forward to hear him describe the next course or whatever, and was stroking the back of my calf with her bare foot simultaneously - letting me in on the joke, turning me on in the offing. He'd pause, his staring down her dress getting almost too obvious. At the end of the meal, he presented the bill and mentioned that the dessert was on the house, as appreciation of our patronage! She'd definitely made her mark on him (and I tipped him well)!

She was a bit tipsy as we left, and I welcomed needing to put my arm around her waist to make sure we navigated the tables exiting. As we got to the darkened parking lot, heading toward our car, I stepped behind her, bent, and ran my hand up the back of her legs, finding that (1) she didn't resist my groping her there, out in public, although no one seemed to be around, and (2) that she was bare-legged - not a surprise, but her legs seemed wonderfully soft and smooth, and (3) that she'd worn a thong - definitely a step out for her! I didn't even know she owned a thong, and there she was, keeping it her secret until I discovered it.

"Another wow for you," I said, stepping back beside her as we kept walking, but keeping my hand on her bare ass cheeks, her skirt raised up for anyone to see.

"Another good wow?" she asked, grinning.

"Oh yes, most definitely, a terrific wow!" I said, as we got to the car. I turned her to me, and, hand still on ass, kissed her deeply, tasting her tongue respond in kind. As we snogged, I heard a chuckle, and turned to see a couple, hand in hand, pass by us, proceeding further in the lot. They had obviously been behind us and we hadn't noticed, and they'd no doubt watched the whole show, seeing her buns exposed by my groping as well. I knew the guy could have cleared his throat or the woman done something likewise, but they had stayed silent and no doubt just enjoyed the show.

"Damn, it seems that every time you decide to expose yourself, there are people watching!" I whispered to Anna, as she was realizing what must have been a show for them. I opened the door and held her hand as she sat into the passenger seat, the skirt riding up, her legs looking great.

She giggled, "The things you make me show! I was fine until you raised my skirt, you know!"

"Now, how the hell am I supposed to drive out of here with a hard on?" I asked as I climbed into the driver's seat, exaggerating the difficulty.

"Well, I could take care of that right here," she said, reaching over and massaging what had started as a semi into a full blown erection. "But I'd rather wait 'til we get home!" And with that, she sat back, laughing a bit, thoroughly pleased with herself, it seemed - and thoroughly pleasing dirty old me, I assure you! Seatbelt fastened, she pulled her dress skirt up well above her knees, and said, "Home, Jeeves, and be quick about it! I don't want to dampen the upholstery!"

I managed not to get a speeding ticket as we made it back to our house, and we were barely inside the bedroom when she said, "Now, hands off - I don't want to get this dress all messed up!"

and I countered, "Well, then, you'll just have to let me watch you take it off!"

"In a minute - you put on some music," she said, and went off to the bathroom. I flipped on the clock radio to a classic, soft jazz station, lowered the volume, turned on enough light to see but to be generally dimly lit in the room, and waited. When she reemerged, I took my turn in there, admonishing her not to start anything without me, including unlacing that dress.

Fluid levels adjusted and teeth rebrushed, I returned. "Now, let me watch," I said, lying down on the bed.

She was still in that tipsy, having fun, being risqué mood, and asked, "OK, this thing loosens from front or back - which do you prefer?"

"Let's start with back," I said, tantalized by those criss-cross ties. She turned her back to me, reached up over her head and down her spine, and pulled the string on the bow as easily as if she could see what she was doing. Then, she turned her head and smiled at me, her body still facing away, and reaching both hands behind her, started to unlace the strings, bit by bit. If I hadn't been smitten by her years ago, I certainly would have been with that move.

The strings unlaced, she let them drop, and I could see the dress loosen, but stay up thanks to the shoulder straps. Sure enough, no bra, and none of those stick-on cups that I could tell. I got up and wrapped her in my arms from behind, then turned her to me, kissing, searching for and finding her tongue willing to duel.

"No, no," she laughed, squirming away from me. I played along, sitting back down on the bed for whatever was next in the show. She started swaying to the music, turning her back to me again, and as she swayed, she nudged the straps off her shoulders and let the dress drop, bit by bit. Loosened as it was, it could have slid right to the floor, but she was holding it up somehow, controlling the drop and hence the exposure. Bit by bit the cleft of her cheeks appeared, and then the dress cleared that, showing me her gorgeous ass keeping time to the soft jazz. There is no denying that there is something hereditary in the sway of a woman's ass - I could imagine cavemen across the eons seeing their women "present" with a sway of their hips, watching the bulbous orbs do their thing. It certainly stirred a deep response in me, and if I hadn't already been on the way to an erection, about a second of that sight would have been sufficient to kickstart that ancient male response.

Finally, the dress reached the carpet, and she kept swaying, her arms now entwined above her head, stretching her body and looking like something out of a Modigliani. I was mesmerized, to say the least. Then, knowing exactly what she was doing, she bent at the waist, straight-legged, and reached down, picking up the dress and holding it to her chest. She sauntered off to hang it up in her closet I supposed. During that brief bend, I was reminded of (1) how un-limber I am - no way I could bend with straight knees like that!, and (2) how gorgeous she was - yeah, I know, yet again - and what a tantalizing view that presented. The lighting prevented my catching much detail, but just for an instant, she was showing me her pressed-together pussy as it came into view, then disappeared again as she stood back up and walked away. I knew, but still relished seeing, that she'd shaved herself clean, and I thought that for sure there was moisture making the view glisten.

I stayed, glued to the edge of the bed, still dressed, and watched for her return. This time, she really did emulate the Venus, left hand over her pussy, right arm crossed over her breasts, holding the left one. She knew good and well that the tease was better at times than the flagrant flash, and she was definitely teasing. I sort of snapped out of it and started to get up, and she said, or as much as commanded, "Now, your turn!"

"Not until you show me yourself," I said, teasing back.

"OK, but you know I'm embarrassed by all this, right?"

"Why in the world would you be embarrassed?" I asked.

"Well, my breasts aren't what they used to be, for one."

"Your breasts are more beautiful today than they've ever been. They're not the breasts of a teenager, or even a twenty-something. They're a woman's breasts, and they have a rhythm, a fluidity that is denied to youth. I see that every time I see you naked, and every time, I'm reminded of how much beautiful you are today than when we met. So there, now drop 'em! "