Setches – Beads & Pearls

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AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is a sketch: an unpolished story. I'm used to writing in a 3rd person omniscient voice but the genre really lends itself to the immediacy and intimacy of 1st person so I'm trying it out here. The first time around, I wrote this bit in present tense – which was fun to write but just a bit too distracting to read. The one bit of editing has been to slow it down into past tense. Beware... it's possible I missed a few edits.

My request for you, dear reader, is that if you bother to read this story at all, take a moment to rate it and leave a comment. Tell me how the first person strikes you, the tone of the narrative, even the ever-controversial loving-wife/slut-wife crossover content.

Thanks,

Wilson

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I'd never been to New Orleans but my wife had when she was younger. Now we were both in our early thirties; older and smarter, but not necessarily wiser. I work in a cubicle for one company and Jessica works as a receptionist for another. She got the front desk of a fairly flashy image conscious group, so she keeps herself in shape. With pouty lips and big boobs, it wouldn't matter if she couldn't remember her own name, she'd be perfect doing what she's doing.

My cubicle toiling had scored a pretty significant bonus and we both had some vacation time, so I thought it would be good to celebrate with the biggest of celebrations: a trip to Mardi Gras. It was either that or a trip to see her parents in Detroit. Yay. I talked up the Big Easy with all the Dixieland jazz, the smooth booze and – I had to be honest – the boob flashing. She rolled her eyes and protested how unfair that was. I told her to get into the spirit of it and that made her think a moment.

"Okay... you wouldn't get upset if I lifted my top?"

I stalled, flashing her a big smile. I admit, I do have a jealous streak but I was also raised on porn: the idea of seeing my wife excite other guys got me cranked up. Trophy thing? Maybe. Maybe it was just breaking through the familiarity that settles on a relationship. Who knows, but we'd certainly had a few fantasies and she'd gotten plenty hot and bothered. She was always reluctant to kick it off, but by the end, she'd come a dozen times playing the slut. I don't think either of us ever thought about extending that into the real world, but hey, you never know. Finally, I gave a smarmy wink and told her: "Jess, you'd look great in beads but better in pearl necklaces."

That got a look.

Two weeks later, we were headed east on a big jet airplane.

After Katrina, Mardi Gras had grown up. Like Vegas, it shed its "fun for the whole family" approach and went for the adult crowd. That much was apparent when we were handed flyers at the arrival gate: NOPD notes about the dos and donts. While they didn't explicitly say they'd be looking the other way, the impression I got was no blood no foul. I'd be seeing a lotta boob this week...

On our very first night, we went bar hopping on Bourbon Street. Luckily, it was a very warm night. She was in a white tennis skirt (very short) and a tight red t-shirt. Under the skirt, if she was on a bar stool, you'd see a lacy white g-string underneath. Wonderfully scandalous. As for me? Who cares. Okay, for what it's worth, I was in shorts and t-shirt.

We raced to the first stop and had one big drink in a charming little pub.

Big

drink. It was enough to get us both started, then we blasted out to sample the town.

She got some catcalls and turned, looking to see how I was handling it. I looked at her like 'what are you waiting for?' and it was all the permission she needed. She flashed her demi-cup covered boobs and actually watched me more than them, which was funny 'cuz I was watching them watch her. In the corner of my eye, I could see the relief in her face as I hollered right along with the crowd. She got her first necklace of the night and we scurried away.

I leaned over, ironically, to have a little discretion. "You should probably lose the bra."

She looked at me a little surprised. After a moment of consideration, she unhooked and pulled the D-cup mouse ears out of her sleeve like Houdini. Then the challenge started: where to put it.

I saw the problem and asked her: "Is it expensive?"

"It was a few years ago but it's falling apart. I really need to get another one."

"Okay, good," I nodded. "Here, I'll take it."

She handed it to me and I yanked it in two before properly disposing of it. That dropped her jaw. I capped the move with a perfectly innocent smile. Not twenty feet down the road, she got more catcalls. She flashed them – and I swear to God, seeing her tits swaying in public gave me instant wood.

Street – Strangers – Wife's Tits – More Strangers...

So different and so hot and so cool.

Wow

. She played to the audience, but still stole a glance at me as she arched her chest.

I gave her a wink and cheered her on. She wasn't so nervous about baring her boobs, but what my reaction was to it. Second batch of necklaces and me showing my enthusiasm (not beating anybody up), and I think she was starting to relax.

When another girl lifted her top, I was going to toss her a necklace. Instead, the girl steps over and bows her head – with her shirt still up. My lucky day. Well, if I'd been flagging since Jessica's first public exposure, this shot me back to life. Her boobs weren't Jessie's, but she was still pretty and they were still sexy boobs. It was my turn this time, keeping peripheral tabs as I gave this girl all my appreciation. I didn't detect any jealousy per se, but I did get just an inkling of my wife's competitive edge. Now

that

would make it fun and just a little bit dangerous.

We settled into another bar, this one a rowdier road-house, and she got several more necklaces before walking out. She got a lotta calls. Great tits, go figure – and her nipples were beacons under her tight t-shirt. I egged her on every time. To me, it was... surprisingly exciting. I've seen her boobs for the better part of a decade, I know their every curve. They're great, but I've been there. Until tonight, I'd never seen her shake them in a crowd. I see everybody else getting excited and it gets me excited all over again. Visual Viagra. Now, out in the street, I was seeing her tits in a whole new light (so to speak). They're fresh again, like I'd never seen 'em before, and she'd gotten me excited. By those nipples, she was pretty excited, too.

We looked around for another bar and headed toward a place that looked jam-packed. On the way, there were hoots and hollers but she had a drink in her hand. She handed it to me and flashed her tits to a balcony full of guys. They showered her with beads. She gave me a kiss but "let" me hold on to her drink. Great.

Actually, it was pretty good. She was in the mood now, flashing half a dozen folk on the way to our third bar. A couple of guys even had cameras and she was all for it, posing with her magnificent tits out and a coy look on her face.

She whispers into my ear: "Check when we get home."

"What?"

"You just know they're all going to wind up on the web."

I give her a nudge. "With your set? Of course – but they're all front-page pictures. You've haven't done anything worthy of the members-only gallery yet."

"Yet?"

"Hey, the night is young."

A couple more drinks, a little Dixieland jazz and she was roaring – actually giving me beads from her collection to give to other girls. That was a blessing and a curse alike. I'd never seen so many tits in person in my life. It was just this steady stream of wonderful jiggling: wide, narrow, big or perky, it was fantastic. The downsides? It was all hands-off and My God, I just wanted to reach out and touch. Second, I was sure that by now, my dick was going to be permanently imprinted with a zipper mark.

Jessica, by now, was just another glorious addition to

The Boobs of the World.

At some point, though, she'd decided to get my attention all over again. On one particular request, she lifted her shirt and –

as she stared at me

– actually brushed her nipples to make them pop out. Necklaces granted, laughs had, admirers stagger off.

I nodded with a big shit-eating grin. "Whoa, fondleage? How are you going to top that one?"

She didn't; at least not right away.

It was getting late and we both decided it was time to hit another bar. We were smart, though: we'd hit the john before we hit the street. On the way out the back entrance, we edged past a thick crowd when she got another request.

By now, I was only watching half her flashes – there's plenty of boob out there. In a dark corner, though, with only so many guys in view (all of whom were just short of bowing before her), she lifted her shirt. I heard gasps (did I mention she's got great tits?).

She made sure to catch my eye on this one. With her shirt lifted, she gave them the obligatory shake – then cupped and hefted her globes with her nipples sliding between her fingers. This got some admiring oohs and aahs (including mine) and that appreciation sparked boob squeezes like she was an exotic dancer. She rolled her nipples between her fingers, then pinched and pulled them for a very appreciative group of guys.

On the way out, she bit her lip. It had to be 1 am, her chest was pressed against me and I felt her nipples through her shirt. Her voice was a bit shaky. "Did I go too far?"

"You're right here."

"You know what I mean."

"For me or for you?"

That one stopped her. She thought about it, then blinked. "For you."

"You didn't go far enough."

She rolled her eyes, almost dismissive my bravado, but she was biting that lip again.

We made it around front and looked for our next place. With all the alcohol, we were ready to coast on the buzz for a while.

As we walked, we took a shortcut past a slightly out-of-the way old house that had its own party going. On the upper front balcony, there were at least a dozen guys – and when they saw Jessica, we heard a chorus of pleas.

She went to hand me her drink. I handed her mine instead and I flashed the group. That got a good round of laughs. While I had the momentum – and she had the drinks – I stepped behind, grabbed her shirt and practically lifted it over her head.

Tag-team flashing.

She was a little surprised at first then I could tell she

really

got into it. Her shoulders relaxed, she leaned over and gave them a burlesque-quality shimmy.

I, of course, couldn't shut up. "Oh, come on! Give 'em a REAL show!"

With the green light, Jessica gave them the full cupping, nipple-rolling floorshow. They went nuts, tossing beads like they were in the primate house.

"There. See? One set of boobs among thousands and you just made their night."

She gave me a big kiss and led us off on our merry way. "You really think I made their night?"

"Yes and no. They'll all have to jack off, but they'll all jack off thinking of you."

"Are you saying I'm a tease?"

"Yes, a terrible tease."

The streets were stumbling drunk by now. It looked like a Girls Gone Wild video – we saw dozen little group gropes in the shadows, strangers welcomed in for a friendly feel. We saw titty taste-tests going on in a couple of the crowds, educating us on where the "slippery nipple" drink got its name. At first glance, I'm guessing most of the guys that got mouthfuls weren't the girl's boyfriends. That mere thought gave me a charge, though with my own dumb luck, I get an invite for an outdoor nip-lick. Then there were the girls that were so good and drunk that they didn't mind taking a taste themselves.

I didn't have any problem with it but honestly, if I walked around with this erection any longer, I was going to have permanent damage. I wanted to throw Jess (or any of about a dozen girls) into the bushes and fuck the daylights out of her. With any luck, I had just enough alcohol in my blood to balance out the hundred tits I'd been teased with. Maybe I could last long enough to share the orgasm – maybe not.

We brushed through some bushes on an obvious path and she stumbled behind me. She burst through staring at me. She had a cocked eyebrow with one of those coy smiles. "Is teasing really so terrible?"

I grabbed my crotch and pointed. She nodded, able to see the outline my now-permanent erection. "Didn't jo momma tell you it ain't nice to tease?"

"Isn't that what Mardi Gras is all about?"

My brain took flashing to its logical ends: one big, giant world-wide orgy. It really was the ends of logic, but hey... "Yes and no."

We stumbled into the next bar. With air travel, alcohol and age, we were winding down. The crowds are getting sloppy and we were getting tired – though my cock had enough strength to drag us both back to the hotel. There was no liquor at this stop, just some bottled water and a little coffee and a little small talk about New Orleans architecture.

I felt a little too grown up as we headed back out.

Retracing our steps, we stumbled across the primate house again – and the same set of guys was still out there with their beads and cameras. After a few affectionate hollers (they recognized us), Jess lifted her shirt. Mid-shake, I stepped over and started fondling her. The guys went bananas. Jessica was feeding on the energy – and she started sucking her thumb like it was a cock (all while I'm groping her for the cameras). There was a moment of silence as flashbulbs went off then they went nuts again. When she started alternating between thumbs – as if sucking two cocks – I was sure their porch was going to break.

A couple of the guys disappeared, I'm sure they were going to invite us in. Jessica was still giving imaginary head as my brain started puzzling out exactly what would happen if we went in. I saw a flash image of Jessica on her knees surrounded by a dozen frat boys, her tits out, face frosted in jizz. And that would be...? Bad? In the same flash, I watched the impromptu taping of "Mardi Gras Bukkake Babes." Yeah, that would be bad. I grabbed Jess's hand and we got lost in the crowd.

We made it a couple of blocks before I dragged her into a dark and mostly-deserted alley. She was giggling as I found a recessed doorway and she didn't shut up until I locked my mouth over hers. Even then, her giggles turned to moans as I lifted her shirt and started fondling her again. I really couldn't stand it. I lifted her shirt right off and dropped it on the ground between us.

She took the hint and knelt on the shirt. I pulled my cock out and she wrapped her lips around it in three seconds flat. I was going to melt in her mouth. It was awesome, absolutely fucking awesome. I felt her warm, wet, velvety tongue and just enough pressure from lips that were born to suck cock. I watched her bob on my shaft for a minute and I knew a hundred guys were fantasizing about trading places with me right that second.

"Stand up, babe."

She looked up, doe-eyed. "I thought you wanted me to wear a pearl necklace!"

"I do. A ton a' pearls. Later. Right now, I want the Grand Prize."

I spun her around, flipped the tennis skirt up and tucked it into her waistband. I pulled her g-string halfway down her thighs and felt for the promised land. She was wet. Been-excited-all-night-long wet. I slipped in and pounded away. We were practically sloshing in that little alcove – and I was just waiting for the door next to us to open. And a thought popped into my head:

she was sloppy seconds wet.

I don't know if she picked up on my vibe, but she egged me on. "My god, you're hard! Are you thinking of little wifey shaking her tits for all those guys?" I grunted something and she recalled what we'd seen not 20 minutes ago. "Did you picture them fondling my tits?"

I felt my cock jump inside her.

"I take that as a 'yes'." She arched her back, her jiggling tits thrusting out. "Would you like to see that?"

I pounded hard. I couldn't answer with words. We did this kind of thing all the time in the bedroom, but there it stayed. Asking out in the night air, in another city, after she'd just flashed the planet? I didn't know if she was playing or not. I know I wasn't.

With her free hand, she steadied herself against the wall. She circled her ass, pushing back into me, then she looked over her shoulder: "Am I your little cumslut?"

I lost it.

I think she was coming too, but the whole world was inside my balls. I tensed, then came so hard I was surprised it didn't squirt out her ears. I exploded a hundred fucks worth of cum into her. She was vocal, her hand on her clit, and I felt her go rigid and shudder around my cock.

I was surprised we came so quick, especially after all the alcohol, but after five hours of foreplay? I was surprised I didn't cream my jeans.

For a moment, I didn't want to leave the shadows. I didn't want her to get dressed, I just wanted to worship her for the goddess she was.

Instead, we zipped and buttoned and headed back into the crowds. Somehow, seeing her boobs in that tight shirt made them seem a little different now. They felt fresh.

One hail for a cab and my dear wife was asleep on my shoulder before we got back to the hotel.